The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Mom! I’m home!”, I announced as I stepped through the doorway, relieved to be back after a long day at school.

“In here, sweetie!”, came the distant reply from somewhere down the hall. Slipping off my shoes, I made my way towards the source of the voice. Turning into the kitchen, I was greeted by a delicious smell of meat and spices. A lone woman—my mother—stood by the counter, carefully sautéing something on the stovetop. She looked up as I entered the room, her face breaking out into the gentlest smile imaginable before walking over with her arms spread. I returned her hug without a second thought.

Mom had always been the touchy-feely type, showering me with hugs and kisses for as long as I could remember. Maybe I was a bit old for it by now, but I did love her a lot, and I knew it was just how she showed affection. So, while it’d be a different matter if we were in public, I didn’t mind indulging her in the privacy of our own home.

“Welcome home, Tommy. How was school?” Mom asked.

My mother’s face was pleasant and kind, with only moderate hints of wrinkles dotting her fair skin. Her wavy, ash blonde hair was quite long, ending at about her waist, and she wore a pink apron over a simple white top and long yellow skirt. She looked all the world like a traditional housewife preparing dinner—because she was, I guess.

“Pretty good. We finally had that chemistry exam, and I think I nailed it.”

“Well, I’m hardly surprised. Science has always been your forte.” Her smile widened. It wasn’t a surprise for me to do well at school, but she still looked so proud every time. “Anyway, could you be a dear and set the table? Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Sure thing. Just let me stash my backpack and I’ll get right on it.” Soon enough, I was arranging plates on the table while Mom was standing back over the stove. We chatted as we went, her asking more about my day and me filling her in on all the details.

My name was Thomas Carter, eighteen years old. I was a senior in high school (my birthday was early though, so I still had most of the year to go). This was our common nightly routine; I’d come home to Mom making dinner and help out however I could. Sometimes I’d actually be in the kitchen with her, while other times all she needed was the table set, like tonight. I was an only child, so I felt like it was my responsibility to chip in; she’s done so much for me in my life already.

Suddenly, we heard the sound of the front door opening from the hallway. Firm, methodical footsteps drew closer and closer, heralding the entrance of a tall, dark-suited figure into the kitchen. “Mm, something smells good,” a husky voice commented.

“Good news, darling! It’s your favorite: beef and broccoli,” Mom responded.

The newcomer adjusted their red tie, set their briefcase down on the floor, and walked towards Mom. “You’re too good for me, Linda.”

With little regard for the active stove, they pulled Mom close and gave her a kiss. Mom didn’t seem to mind—if anything, she blushed and giggled.

I just sighed. These two had been married for twenty years, and still they acted like a pair of lovebirds. It was a little much from time to time, but I saw it as a good thing at the end of the day. I’d rather have overly affectionate parents than parents that hated each other’s guts. A little embarrassment was a small price to pay for a happy family.

“Evening, Thomas. Good day at school? Test go well?”

My parents had disentangled from each other, and I was now drawn into the conversation.

“Yeah, it went great… Mother.”

So, if we’re being particular, there was one way that Mom wasn’t a “traditional” housewife: she was married to another woman.

While “Mom” was distinctly feminine, “Mother” was decidedly more masculine. She kept her dark brown hair in a short bob and was the tallest of our family. Unlike Mom, she preferred pants and other “men’s” clothing, revealing little of her olive skin. Her personality too was brusque and straightforward, but it paired well with Mom’s comparatively mellow demeanor.

Mother was also the sole breadwinner of the family. She was a successful businesswoman, and her job often forced her to work long hours. It was rare that she’d be home in time to eat with Mom and I, so nights like tonight were a rare treat.

“Glad to hear it!” Mother said, patting me on the back. “Here, let me help you with the silverware.” She pitched in to finish setting the table, and before long the three of us were seated, ready to dig in.

We talked and laughed with each other for a solid hour, well after we’d finished eating. Looking between both of my mothers, smiling at me and each other, I felt truly blessed. I’d never had the troubled family life that so many of my friends at school complained about. For as long as I could remember, the three of us had been extremely tight-knit. It’s not that we never had arguments or disagreements but, at the end of the day, we loved and trusted each other wholeheartedly.

Some were surprised to hear that I wasn’t adopted, despite being the son of two women. Mom and Mother were my biological parents, or at least as close to it as possible. Mother’s brother donated his sperm to fertilize one of Mom’s eggs, and Mom had me as a normal pregnancy. Technically speaking, that made Mom my biological mother and Mother my biological aunt—but like I said, it was as close as possible.

It was Saturday. I was camped out in my room. I think Mom was downstairs watching TV. Mother was out of the house; even though it was a weekend, there’d been some kind of work emergency that she had to handle in the office. That kind of thing wasn’t unheard of, but it was thankfully infrequent.

At the moment, I was working on a science experiment. It wasn’t, strictly speaking, a class assignment, but an extracurricular recommended by my school counselor. I was angling for a chemistry scholarship to a local college, and it would seriously improve my chances if I had some real lab and data collection experience to point to—even if it was informal.

It wasn’t anything crazy. I was one of the strongest chem students at my school (which was nothing to scoff at), but at the same time I was only in high school. I could lean on textbooks and the Internet, but I simply lacked the experience and higher education to pursue anything truly interesting. So, that being the case—my experiment revolved around formulating a simple chemical concoction to improve plant health. Riveting.

I’d gone through two trials so far without much success, but I wasn’t especially bothered. Even if things didn’t pan out, failure was its own teacher, and could still show off my ability to formulate and document effective scientific trials.

I’d spent the better part of the morning writing out a new approach to a particular recipe. Satisfied with my progress, I reached for one of my prototype concoctions—and froze. It wasn’t there.

After a moment’s confusion, I remembered that I’d gone downstairs to grab a snack maybe ten minutes ago. I must’ve been holding the prototype and accidentally set it down while I ate. Not thinking much of it, I left my room and made for the kitchen.

Yep, just as suspected, it was sitting in plain view out on the counter. Relieved, I reached out for it—and froze again.

What I’d picked up was a brownish liquid in one of our family’s mugs. At a glance, it was my prototype… but on closer inspection, it wasn’t at all. The color was slightly off and it was housed in a different mug.

I’d bought a collection of actual science beakers a while back, but I’d gone through them so quickly today that I had to dip into regular mugs and glasses from our kitchen to store some of my chemicals. Obviously that would be unacceptable in a formal lab, but for quick experimentation like this, it was fine as long as I thoroughly cleaned everything before and after use.

It was a little lazy of me, admittedly, and now I was already paying the price for cutting corners. Because—this was not my prototype. This was normal tea, Mom’s tea. Which meant…

Trying not to panic, I rushed into the living room. Mom was sitting on the couch as normal, watching some romance movie… with my prototype on the table in front of her.

“Mom!” I exclaimed loudly. “Sorry Mom, that’s uh, that’s not your tea. That’s actually… um, Mom?”

I’d stopped in the middle of my explanation because Mom seemed entirely unresponsive. She didn’t look towards me when I spoke. She didn’t seem to react to my presence whatsoever. She was still sitting up, so she wasn’t unconscious, but in some ways that was even more worrying.

I walked around to stand in front of my mother, blocking her view of the TV. Still nothing. Her expression was slack, with no sign of anything that could be called emotion. Her pupils were so wide that her green eyes appeared almost black. Even now that I’d clearly entered her line of vision, she stared straight through me, as if I wasn’t there at all.

Shit. Shit shit shit. It didn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together. Mom had mistaken my prototype for her tea. She drank a completely untested, half-baked combination of chemicals. Who knows what it could have done? Individually, each of the prototype’s constituents were pretty harmless, but what if in that exact combination it was somehow toxic? Why else would Mom be acting this way?

Now I was starting to panic.

“Mom! Mom!” I grabbed her shoulders and shook her back and forth. I was desperate. I didn’t really expect anything to happen…

“… Hm?”

But, mercifully, the color returned to her face. Her pupils shrunk rapidly, and she started to blink and shake her head. Eventually, she appeared to regain an awareness of her surroundings. “T-Tommy? What… what’s wrong?”

“Mom!” I was so happy I could cry. “Are you alright?”

She was seeming more normal by the second, and responded with a confused look on her face. “Y-yes, I’m fine. What’s the matter, sweetie?”

It was as if she had no recollection of the state she’d just been in. “I’m sorry, Mom. That’s not your tea.” And I indicated the mug on the table. “I think you accidentally drank something from my experiment. Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

Her face darkened as I spoke. “I’m fine, Tommy, really. More importantly, young man: how many times do I have to tell you not to use things from the kitchen for your assignments? It was only a matter of time before something like this happened!”

She didn’t seem at all distressed about the fact that she’d just ingested something dangerous. Instead, she’d gone straight to scolding me. Mom was usually the kindest person you’d ever meet, but she wouldn’t hesitate to let me have it if I broke the rules.

“I know… I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” I meant it. This little misunderstanding had scared the shit out of me. I’d never be able to live with myself if something happened to Mom because of my sheer stupidity.

I asked a few more times, but Mom insisted that she felt normal. Her attitude was dismissive, so I was still a little worried, but I eventually retreated to my room with the prototype.

That evening, I was getting ready to go to bed when there was a knock at the door. When I opened up, it was Mom.

“Hi, Tommy. I just wanted to talk about what happened earlier, with my tea.”

“Sure, Mom. What about it?”

We walked together into my room. I sat on the side of the bed, and she sat beside me. “I felt a little bad after you left. I could tell from your face that you’d been really concerned about me, but I just got upset with you.”

Ah. So that’s why she’d come. She wasn’t wrong that it had slightly hurt my feelings, but I’d already moved past it. She was safe, and that was the most important thing. Still, it was very like her to check in on me after the fact like this.

“It’s alright Mom, really,” I assured her. “You were right to get mad. It was totally my fault. I’m just glad it didn’t make you sick or something.”

“That’s very sweet of you, honey.” Seeming satisfied, she smiled and stood up, turning to me with her arms wide. Knowing what that meant, I stood too and hugged her.

“Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Tommy.”

We stayed that way for a moment, both of us happy to reconcile over the small dispute. This was basically the worst it got for us, as far as “arguments” went, and I fully understand how silly that sounds. I really was incredibly lucky.

As we started to separate, Mom’s head shifted. Unsure what was happening, I looked up towards her. (I was short for a man; both my mothers were a bit taller than me.)

Before I could even register the fact that her face was getting unusually close, Mom’s lips were touching my own.

…?

I short-circuited. The situation was so outside my wildest expectations that I had no response for it at all. I stood there in shock as my mother kissed me on the lips, not having the presence of mind to say anything or pull away. Even when her tongue snaked its way into my mouth, I was too dumbfounded to do anything more than vaguely suck on the foreign invader.

The kiss was passionate (from Mom’s side at least), but it couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. She soon stepped back, looking down at me with the same warm, loving eyes I’d seen for the past eighteen years of my life.

“Good night, sweetie.”

“G-good night, Mom.”

And just like that, she was gone. I was alone in my room again.

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

I—but—she—what the hell just happened?

Slowly, I recovered my wits. Everything had been normal. Up to and including the hug, nothing was out of the ordinary. But, for some reason—some unfathomable reason—Mom went and kissed me. Not just a little peck either, something that could maybe be construed as familial. Our tongues made contact.

I was ashamed of my total inability to react in the moment but, in fairness to myself, it had been a lot to take in. My whole life, I’ve been a reclusive nerd. I was a total virgin. I’ve never even held hands with a girl. And now, suddenly, I’d had my first kiss—with my own mother.

Much as I tried not to, I couldn’t help replaying that kiss over and over in my head. I felt my dick stiffen slightly—and was immediately disgusted with myself.

My brain was fried and heart was racing, but I forced myself to sleep, hoping that the whole thing was some waking dream or hallucination. I’d wake up and laugh it off.

Unfortunately, no such luck. When my eyes fluttered open the next morning, I felt even more certain that my encounter with Mom last night had been reality. She’d kissed her own son as she would a lover.

I couldn’t understand it. Strangest of all, when I shuffled downstairs for breakfast, Mom seemed utterly, painfully normal. She whipped up a stack of pancakes for me and Mother, and conversed with the two of us just as she would any other day. It was enough to almost make me think I had imagined everything.

I couldn’t exactly ask Mom “why did you kiss me?” in front of Mother, so I quickly cleaned my plate and returned to my room. Lost in thought, I retraced everything that happened yesterday. Only one conclusion made sense. Besides the kiss itself, the only thing even mildly unusual about yesterday was Mom drinking my chemical prototype and the weird unresponsive state she ended up in afterward. She came to her senses easily enough… but what if there were lingering effects? What if it had affected her mentally in some way?

Luckily, today was Sunday, so I had the free time to run rigorous tests. Putting my actual extracurricular trials on hold, I decided to extensively investigate the prototype in question. Reluctant to drag Mom any deeper into this, I opted to use myself as a test subject. It was risky, but I had little alternative.

Ultimately, I spent the next several hours experimenting. The results were inarguable, if also completely ridiculous.

What became evident almost immediately was that the prototype triggered a trance-like state upon consumption. I verified this the only way I could—by drinking it myself. The best way to describe the experience was a lapse in consciousness. I’d set a timer and, as soon as I drank the prototype, a few minutes passed in the literal blink of an eye. I had no memory of the missing time whatsoever, and likely wouldn’t have even noticed if I weren’t specifically paying attention to the clock.

By setting up my phone to record myself, I found that over this time I entered a state identical to Mom yesterday: wide pupils, blank stare, the works. The exact length of the trance was dependent on the amount of prototype ingested, but the average was around five minutes, even with a minute dosage. Based on the fact that Mom “woke up” when I shook her, it seemed that excessive external stimuli could break the trance midway through, but this would be difficult to verify on my own.

Figuring out the trance was the easy part. The other half of the equation, pinning down why Mom had kissed me, proved far more difficult. I didn’t feel any different once I came out of the trance, even after triggering it multiple times. At the very least, I didn’t suddenly have an urge to kiss anyone.

What led me in the right direction was the realization that Mom had been alone until I “woke” her up. There were very few things in the living room that could have affected her; really, the only thing was the TV itself. Was there something in the video or audio which triggered a reaction?

After quite a lot of trial and error, I found that I was receptive to verbal commands while in the trance. I recorded myself reciting simple harmless commands, like “pick up a pencil”, and played that audio on loop over the speaker. While in the trance, I obeyed my own voice without exception. It was a little unnerving, watching a clip of myself doing things with no memory of it.

Crucially, commands were not restricted to physical actions. Statements about my mental state were effective in an even more alarming capacity. For example, I recorded myself saying “you love the taste of strawberries”. I’ve always hated strawberries, but lo and behold… I grabbed one from the fridge and now I did love it.

The effect was powerful. The change felt absolute, reaching beyond my sense of taste into my actual thoughts and memories. I knew what I had done to myself, but even then it was difficult to convince my mind that there had once been a time when I somehow disliked strawberries. “What is there to dislike?”, I found myself thinking. If one wasn’t aware of the prototype’s effects beforehand… it wasn’t hard to imagine that they’d never realize something had changed at all.

This was all extremely promising, but I still had to determine what exactly affected Mom. Straining my memory, I found the movie that she’d been watching yesterday. It was some love story about a woman in love with her boss. Scanning through, I eventually landed on a scene that looked somewhat familiar. It was probably what had been on screen when I walked in on her. Most of the dialogue was typical romance fluff, but then…

“If you really love him, just kiss him! It doesn’t matter who he is!”

The lead’s best friend told her that line. Everything fell into place.

I checked the minutes before and after the line to be sure, but there was no other dialogue that could reasonably be interpreted as a “command”. That was the sole saving grace here.

So, based on everything I’ve seen, here’s what happened:

My chemical prototype—a prototype for an entirely unrelated, innocuous experiment—somehow produces a sort of hypnotic state in humans. Mom accidentally drank this prototype, and then coincidentally heard a line from her movie telling her it’s okay to kiss anyone as long as you “love him”. She internalized this statement as truth, which led to her k-kissing me last night. That also explains why she wasn’t acting any differently otherwise; she thought it was just a normal way for a mother to express love for her son.

Like I said, this was all completely ridiculous—but it was also reality, confirmed by my experiences and experiments.

If we accept this ridiculous conclusion as truth, the next question is: what the hell do I do about it?

“Welcome home, Tommy!” Mom came in for a hug as soon as I stepped into the kitchen.

“H-hey, Mom,” I greeted her awkwardly, but returned the hug. Steeling myself for what was to come, I looked up… and Mom’s lips found mine.

It was Wednesday, a few days since our “first kiss”. Every day since, we’d shared at least one kiss, but usually two or three.

When Mom first approached me for a kiss after I’d pieced together what had happened, I tried to refuse… but she looked so hurt. It was the same expression I’d seen on the rare occasions when I refused her hugs. To her, they were no different. From her perspective, rejecting her kiss was something I’d only do if I was deeply upset.

So, telling myself that it was only until I reversed the prototype’s effects, I allowed her to kiss me as she pleased. Realistically, I came to expect a kiss every time we hugged—which was often.

Our tongues swirling in each other’s mouths, I told myself that this had to stop. We’d been lucky so far, but it was only a matter of time before Mother noticed something. Obviously, that’s on top of the fact that it was unacceptable for Mom to be kissing me in the first place, regardless of whether or not we’d get caught.

The most straightforward solution would be to dose Mom with the prototype again and correct her views on kissing. There just hadn’t been a right time for it yet. I had to go to school every day, and Mother had been around in the evenings. I didn’t want to use the prototype on both my parents unless it became absolutely necessary.

Interrupting my internal monologue, Mom pulled away from me after about fifteen seconds, our longest kiss yet. A part of me—a very small part of me—was disappointed. I hated myself for that.

Making my way to the dinner table, I sat down, trying to ignore the tightness in my crotch. I hated myself for that even more.

Mom was objectively good-looking, even at her age, but I had never looked at her in that way. Our love, while deep, was purely familial; it was the bond between a mother and her child. I didn’t feel any sexual desire for her, nor was I harboring a secret incest fetish.

At the same time, I was a horny young man. Even if she was my mother… I was making out with an attractive older woman daily, after years of being a lonely virgin. It was unavoidable that I would get a little aroused.

“Here’s your dinner, honey.”

“... Looks delicious, Mom.”

Oblivious to the shameful thoughts racing through my head, Mom set down a plate of pasta in front of me. She then placed two drinks (water for me, tea for her) and returned to the kitchen to fetch a plate of her own.

Mother wouldn’t be home until late tonight. At least for the next hour, Mom and I were alone. If I had any chance to fix this, now was the time.

While Mom’s back was turned, ladling spaghetti out of the pot, I reached into my pocket and felt for a small vial. It was a dose of my prototype, enough to trigger a trance. I’d made sure to keep it on my person since Sunday, just in case the right moment would present itself.

Gathering my resolve, I emptied the vial into her tea. I’d already tested that the prototype should be effective when mixed in another liquid… but worst case, we’d just have a normal dinner, and I’d try again another day.

Mere seconds after I’d slipped the vial back into my pocket, Mom returned. I must’ve been staring at her, because she smiled at me as she sat down. She was so unguarded, kind and trusting to her core. I felt a little bad, betraying that trust and spiking her drink, but it was a necessary evil to restore her state of mind.

After a few agonizingly slow bites of pasta, Mom raised her glass to her lips and took a long sip. I waited nervously… I’d never directly seen someone else fall into the trance before.

Five seconds went by. Then ten. Just as I was worried that the dose might have been too low—Mom’s arms slowed and came to rest on the table. Her facial muscles began to relax, and her gaze became fixated on some unknown point in the distance.

It had worked. Mom was back in the trance.

I let out a deep sigh of relief. Now, I could put all this behind us.

“Mom…”

As I looked into her blank eyes, that small, disgusting part of me grew ever so slightly. If this prototype could so easily make Mom kiss me, what else could it do? What else could it make Mom do?

I shook my head. It was revolting that I even had the thought. The events that led to our kiss were an accident, nothing more than a series of mistakes and coincidences. There was no one to really blame. However, it would be truly unforgivable to allow this state of affairs to continue, now that it was within my power to stop.

In defiance of my noble intentions… my erection was growing. I could feel my rationality slipping as my arousal mounted. This was dangerous. I had to put Mom back to normal before I did something I’d regret.

“Mom…” I said again. She, of course, did not respond. Honing my willpower, I continued. “You—”

The next morning.

Mother had already left for work by the time I woke up. That was typical of weekdays.

I was in the bathroom in my pajamas, brushing my teeth and trying not to think about the events of the past day. Just as I’d finished rinsing, Mom’s voice broke the silence from the other side of the door.

“Tommy?” It sounded like she wanted to say something, but didn’t want to walk in on me if I was on the toilet.

“Yeah? You can come in, Mom.”

The door knob turned and Mom walked in. She had a towel wrapped around her torso, but didn’t appear to be wearing any actual clothing. While it wasn’t common, sometimes I saw Mom dressed like this just before she was about to shower. We were family, after all, and we’d always been pretty comfortable around each other. However, the next words out of her mouth wrecked the illusion of a potentially “normal” morning.

“Hi, sweetie. I was wondering if you wanted to shower with me?”

I stopped. Even knowing the question was coming, it brought with it a fresh wave of self-loathing.

I was weak. I’d had the opportunity to fix things, and I did worse than nothing.

“If the two of us are alone in the house when you go to shower, you’ll invite me to join you.”

That’s what I’d told Mom in her trance yesterday. At the last minute, I let my libido lead me by the nose. I was an awful, awful son.

“S-sure, Mom.”

Even so, my eyes lingered on her exposed skin. I didn’t have the self-control to say no. My guilt deepened when Mom smiled kindly, as she always did… before removing her towel.

Unlike Mother, who favored conservative attire, Mom preferred feminine outfits which exposed a tasteful amount of skin, like tops with moderate cleavage. Still, I hadn’t seen her actual naked body since I was too young to remember. She looked… good. You wouldn’t mistake her for a young woman, but her mature body hadn’t lost its femininity. She had a thin figure with pleasantly wide hips and relatively smooth skin, which would have been attractive enough, but her standout physical feature was undoubtedly her breasts. Even clothed, Mom was an unmistakably busty woman, and now it was clear that she was even larger than I’d realized.

Dammit… why couldn’t Mom have been a little uglier? Aged a little less gracefully? Her body hit all the right buttons to turn me on, and I hated it.

Blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, Mom casually walked to the shower, the tiny movements sending even tinier ripples throughout her nude form.

“Aren’t you coming in, honey?”, she asked, turning back to face me. I was still in my pajamas and hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Yeah, sorry… R-right behind you, Mom.”

Part of me screamed at myself, trying to argue that it wasn’t too late to turn back… but that voice grew smaller and smaller as I stripped down and stepped into the shower with Mom.

She had already turned on the water, and we faced each other as it rained down onto our naked bodies. My eyes took in all the little droplets streaming down her face and collecting around her breasts. This shower was only a stall, not a full tub, so there wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver. We weren’t currently touching, but if I took only a step forward, my face would make contact with her chest.

My heart was pounding. What was I doing? I should leave. I should—

“Would you soap up my body for me, Tommy?” Mom interrupted my panic, holding out a bottle of her body wash.

I didn’t have the presence of mind to refuse. Nodding without a word, I slowly took the bottle and filled my hands with perhaps a little too much body wash. Mom watched with the same level of interest as if I was helping her cook. I hadn’t explicitly told her to have me clean her, but since she considered it normal to shower with her adult son, her brain must have suitably altered surrounding knowledge to accommodate this change.

I reached my sudsy hands out towards Mom, who was looking at me expectantly. There was so much of her body that seemed off limits… and in a split-second decision, I placed my hands on her shoulders. I moved down her arms, cleaned her hands, then her back, t-then her belly, her calves…

“Sweetie? I think you’re missing a few spots.” I’d been hoping she wouldn’t notice. “Make sure to get my thighs and chest, too.” From her perspective, it was an innocent enough request, but from mine… part of me had still been scared to cross that line.

But now she’d told me to do it. With no other choice, I quickly grazed her thighs and b-butt. I stayed as far from her crotch as I could; I don’t think I could handle that yet, and thankfully Mom didn’t comment. That just left the chest…

Unlike the thighs, it was impossible to do this halfway. Her boobs were her chest. With a gulp, half-closing my eyes, I reached out towards my mother. My hands met pleasantly soft mounds, which I reflexively squeezed multiple times.

Before today, I had never even seen boobs in real life—and now, I was feeling up an impressive set. My horniness, which until now had abated slightly from the novelty and embarrassment of the situation, roared back with force. The fact that this was Mom, or even an entire woman, started to slip from my mind.

All that I perceived was the feeling of these boobs, squishing and squashing so wonderfully in my grip. My fingers sank into their soft flesh, relishing every moment of warmth and comfort. They popped back into shape as soon as I released, filling the palm of my hand with their size and weight. My hands shifted towards their perfect pink nipples, gingerly tracing the areola. I was in heaven.

“I think they’re clean enough, Tommy. Thank you.” I looked up at the source of the voice, and saw the smiling face of my mother. Remembering where I was, I pulled back, flustered.

“S-s-sorry, Mom!” I nearly slipped on the floor as I stepped away from her, my voice cracking for good measure.

I had no idea how long I’d been playing with her boobs, but Mom didn’t actually seem upset, so it must not have been as long as I’d feared. Phew. “No need to apologize, Tommy. In fact, I—oh my.” She began to reassure me, but cut herself off, her gaze drawn to something below me.

Well, more precisely, it was drawn to a lower part of me. I had a raging boner, courtesy of “cleaning” my naked mother.

“Tommy, you…” For the first time since we stepped into the shower together, Mom looked uncomfortable. Deeply uncomfortable. Her arms shifted to cover her chest, as her eyes filled up with emotions I’d hardly ever seen in her before: anxiety, suspicion and even faint disgust.

It felt so painful to have her to look at me that way. I froze, unsure what to do, so Mom acted instead. Not meeting my gaze, she turned her head and said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. Maybe this was a bad idea. You finish showering and I’ll go get dressed.” Her tone was polite, but her body language was… distressed.

“Mom, wait—I…” The words caught in my throat as she took one step out of the shower. If I didn’t do something now, I’ll probably have permanently wrecked our relationship. I didn’t want that. The thought made me sick. So, with no other choice…

“L-Lights out.”

As soon as the stammered words left my lips, Mom froze. All the tension and emotion in her body drained away in an instant. Still with one foot outside the shower, she stared straight ahead with a vacant, unseeing expression. She looked basically the same as she had after ingesting the prototype; it was as if she was back in that trance.

“Mom… come back inside the shower.” She wordlessly obeyed and stood perfectly straight in front of me, making no effort to hide her body at all. It was as if she was a doll, with no consciousness of her own. In spite of myself, my eyes were drawn to her boobs, and I felt my erection—which had been starting to subside after the whole situation—revive in full.

I can’t believe it. It actually worked.

When I used my prototype on Mom last night, I wasn’t completely stupid about it. I at least had the mental wherewithal to recognize that something like this might happen if I showered with her. There was also the chance that she’d internalized some other problematic line of dialogue from that movie the other day, something I wasn’t aware of.

To be safe, I told her to return to a trance state whenever she heard me say “lights out”. It wasn’t exactly the same as the prototype trance—this was merely her subconscious mimicking the prototype’s effect, rather than the genuine article. However, the end result was the same. Theoretically, Mom should obey any command I give her, even if I tell her to think or act a certain way.

I… I could just tell her to ignore my erections. I should just tell her to ignore my erections. That’s it. Then we’d go back to showering. Well… I really should put her completely back to normal, and pretend like none of this ever happened. But my eyes returned to her body. She was so beautiful. It just wasn’t fair. How was I supposed to resist this?

Scarcely believing the words tumbling out of my mouth, I spoke. “Mom, uh… there’s nothing wrong with me getting an erection from touching you or looking at you. It’s normal for a young man with an active sex drive.” I cleared my throat. Am I really going to do this?

“In fact, g-good mothers make sure that their sons aren’t sexually frustrated. So, if… if you notice that I have an erection, the natural thing to do is relieve me with a b-blowjob.” Before I could second-guess myself or truly question what the hell I was saying, I quickly muttered the keywords to lift the trance. “Lights on.”

The reaction was immediate. Comprehension and thought returned to Mom’s eyes just as abruptly as they had disappeared, and her gaze fell back down to my crotch. Unsure if anything I’d done had actually worked, I braced myself for a replay of the scene that had just transpired.

However, Mom didn’t even look awkward. Instead, she took in the state of my penis and simply sighed, with an air of “what am I going to do with you?”. Placing her hands on her hips, she smirked at me with a knowing expression. “Oh, Tommy… if you were getting aroused, you should have said something! The last thing I want is for my baby to be uncomfortable.”

Before I had a chance to respond, Mom had crouched down in front of me, putting herself at eye level with my erection. The shower water rained down around her, making her look particularly sexy.

“Mom, I…”

“It’s okay, dear. It’s perfectly natural for a boy your age. Just relax and let your mother handle everything.”

I nodded, only half-hearing what she was saying, and Mom interpreted my nod as approval. Her face inched closer to my crotch, her lips mere millimeters from my manhood. There was no embarrassment in her eyes, no hesitation in her movements. As if she’d done it a million times before, Mom took my dick into her mouth.

In that moment, it didn’t matter that she was my mother. She was just a gorgeous woman, giving me a blowjob in the shower. And it felt good. It felt so good. Her mouth was warm and moist, and she worked her tongue masterfully, circling my tip with just the right amount of force. This couldn’t have been the first time she’d sucked dick; her technique was simply too impressive. Maybe she’d had boyfriends before she married Mother?

Regardless, she was skilled—too skilled for a pathetic virgin like me. I came within seconds, all across her face. Luckily, the shower made that easy to clean up.

Mom and I showering together became a near-daily occurrence—as did her blowjobs. She never voiced any discomfort about fellating her own son; she was a good mother and that was just what good mothers did.

Everytime, once the post-nut clarity set in, I swore to myself that it wouldn’t happen again. Everytime, like clockwork, my dick was in Mom’s mouth the next morning.

Nearly a month passed like this. Temperatures started to drop as winter approached.

“Mm… mmgh…”

Small sounds of sloshing saliva were drowned out by the patter of the shower around us. My soapy hands slithered across Mom’s body, thoroughly “cleaning” her back and boobs. Our lips overlapped at the same time, enjoying a passionate kiss.

Looking at us, any stranger would assume we were a couple making out in the shower. Some might raise an eyebrow at the age gap, but they’d ultimately write it off as a cougar and her young lover.

Only one person could see us as a normal mother and son: Mom herself. In her mind, our kisses were still no different than hugs, just as my hands on her body was simply me helping her wash. All of this was no more than some showertime familial affection.

Of course, I perceived it very differently, and it wasn’t long before a familiar stiffness was pressing against Mom’s leg. Mom must have felt it too, because she broke off our kiss to look at my penis.

“Honestly, Tommy. Every time?” Her tone was jovial, poking fun rather than actually angry. This had become second-nature to both of us.

Moments later, Mom was knelt before me, devotedly attending to my erection. Her eyes were closed as she aggressively licked and sucked my penis. With all the practice, I was starting to last several minutes, but she never once complained.

Watching her head bob up and down my dick, I felt equal parts shame and lust… although the latter was growing in recent days. Was this relationship with Mom really so bad? Society at large would certainly disapprove, but no one was getting hurt exactly. In fact, Mom seemed to enjoy spending more time with me—oral sex notwithstanding.

I closed my eyes too, letting myself savor the pleasure—when a knock echoed through the bathroom.

“Linda? Are you in there?”, came the voice from the other side of the door.

My eyes shot open, as did Mom’s.

Fuck. I’d gotten too complacent. She wasn’t supposed to be home. Why was she home?

It was Mother—with an unlocked door the only thing between her and the sight of her wife sucking off their son.