Chapter 27

Obviously, my aim wasn’t to get Mom turned on by sexually transmitted infections. That would be, uh ... unhelpful.

But step one of my plan was to play into her refusal to talk about sex, to twist and amplify it for my own purposes.

Step two? That was a little bit darker.

Session A115:

“What do you know about Marcie?”

“She’s four months younger than your sister. She’s got brown hair, her mother is a nurse, her father is...”

I interrupted. Should have been more specific.

“What do you know about what happened to Marcie recently?”

A hint of sadness hit my mother’s blank eyes (after spending enough time around hypnotized people, you learn to read even the most subtle changes in their expression).

After I’d broken Marcie, I’d tweaked Mom and Lucy’s memories to add a bit of distance. A drifting apart between my sister and her best friend; something to make sure that Lucy wouldn’t be totally crushed when she found out about Marcie’s ... condition.

Fortunately, Lucy was more than a little distracted by our new relationship, and Mom never been too fond of Marcie to begin with.

“I heard she...”

Mom, perhaps being diplomatic, drifted off. I sat patiently as her entranced mind worked on phrasing.

“I heard she had a breakdown.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No.”

Good.

“Hypothetical: You’re talking...”

I trailed off. Who would be telling Mom these details? It couldn’t be me or Lucy, and she wasn’t close with Marcie’s parents at all.

“You’re talking to a gossipy neighbor who heard the police report.”

Nod.

Fortunately, Mom knows as little as I do about police proceedings. Exactly what situation would lead to someone hearing the report being made to the police, I don’t know, but as long as Mom can imagine it ... I don’t have to.

“They tell you that there was a burglary.”

Mom nodded, and I paused. God, this was ... I couldn’t.

Could I?

I took a deep breath.

I’d spent a week setting this up. All the pieces were in place. All I had to do was bite the bullet.

“There was a burglary, and Marcie was home when it happened.”

Session A109:

“You’re sitting on the train.”

Nod.

“There’s a couple across from you, making out.”

Nod.

“It’s two women.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I try not to look.”

I smiled at Mom’s phrasing.

“Even when you’re not looking directly at them, you can still hear the sound of their pleasure. They’re moaning with pleasure, grunting slightly. You can hear the sound of their lips smacking.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I try not to listen.”

“You have a vivid imagination, don’t you?”

“ ... yes.”

“It’s easy to imagine yourself in their place, isn’t it?”

“ ... yes.”

I was surprised that she even answered that one. I had to remember not to ask Mom questions when I was getting into the nitty-gritty details.

“It’s easy to imagine yourself in the woman’s place, being touched, being publicly felt up by another woman.”

Nod.

“It’s easy to imagine yourself exposed in public - everyone’s eyes on you, everyone noticing how turned on you are, how excited you are to be touched.”

Nod.

“It’s easy to picture your lips pressed against a beautiful woman, not caring that society disapproves, not caring about anything but feeding your lust.”

Mom’s cheeks were aflame, but she nodded nonetheless.

“It’s easy to imagine your hands running across her body, feeling how soft her skin is, appreciating her curves.”

Nod.

“Her hands running over your body, touching you, making you pant and moan.”

Nod.

“That night, when you’re alone, you can’t help but touch yourself.”

Nod.

“And when you do, you imagine two things...”

Mom nodded, before I’d even finished the thought.

“ ... making out in public.”

Nod.

“And being with a sexy woman.”

Nod.

Session A115:

“The burglar had a gun. He tied Marcie and her family up.”

Nod.

“And then, he ... he...”

I don’t know why I was hesitating. This was it, I knew it. This was the ticket to everything I’d been building towards, everything I’d been fantasizing about for so long.

I guess on some level, I was scared. What if it didn’t work, and Mom never let me hypnotize her again? What if I’d done something wrong, and whatever had happened to Marcie happened to her as well?

But, on the other hand ... what if it worked?

Session A178:

Mom didn’t say a word as I unzipped my pants. She didn’t say anything as I pulled my erection out.

Her eyes - still blank - widened slightly as I moved my hardness towards her face, but she didn’t move, and she didn’t say a word.

As my cock approached her mouth, her lips parted, and her tongue reached out to taste my head.

Session A112:

“The world is full of vice, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Everywhere you go, everywhere you look, you see sex.”

Nod.

“You try so hard not to look, but it’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s impossible not to observe it all the time. It fills your head, consumes you.”

Nod.

“Whenever you’re alone, whenever you get a chance, you have to get them out of your system. You have to touch yourself, play with yourself, bring yourself to orgasm.”

Nod.

“Again and again, you let the images of sex run through your brain, you let your imagination insert you into sexual situations.”

Nod.

“You’re cumming three, four, five times a day. Whenever you’re alone, you’re thinking about sex. It’s like you’re obsessed, but it’s not your fault.”

Nod.

“You’re a good, moral person. It’s the world that’s filled with sex, and your only way of dealing with it is to let it run through your head while you cum.”

Nod.

“You’re constantly thinking about sex, you’re constantly wet, you’re constantly finding excuses to find time to yourself so you can get off.”

Nod.

“Everything sexual you see becomes fuel for your masturbation sessions. Everything you see, you can picture yourself doing those things. In your mind, you’re a sexual object, but the rest of the world still sees you as a good person, as a good mother.”

Nod.

“If you could, you’d play with yourself right now. Just talking about getting off is enough to make you horny, to get you wet. As soon as you can, you’re going to make an excuse to leave. You’re going to head to your room, shut the door, and you’re going to get off.”

Nod.

“Would you tell me if you own any sex toys?”

“Yes.”

“Do you own any sex toys?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you wished you did?”

“No.”

“What would you do if you found one of Lucy’s?”

“I ... I...”

Mom’s breathing was heavy as she slowly drifted back into consciousness. She was wearing a thin white t-shirt and the pair of cut-off denim shorts that I’d slipped into her drawers. I’d been delighted when they’d become a standard part of her around-the-house lineup.

After all, it was just family. What did it matter who saw her in sexy shorts like that?