The Pact: A Master PC Tale - Cover

The Pact: A Master PC Tale

Copyright© 2013 by Rainmaker

Chapter 52: Meanwhile...

Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 52: Meanwhile... - A Master PC story, and the trials and errors of responsibility. And a teenage ballet school.

Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   ft/ft   Fa/ft   Ma/mt   Mult   Teenagers   Consensual   Romantic   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Mind Control   Lesbian   BiSexual   Heterosexual   TransGender   Fiction   Celebrity   Slut Wife   Wimp Husband   Incest   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Fisting   Squirting   Lactation  

No one rushed out to meet Andi when she stepped from the cab.

The efficient driver came around and removed her bag from the trunk and she made her way up the walkway. Bump, bump, bump – her bag, loaded down with presents for her family, had become too heavy to do more than bump it up the three steps and across the porch.

The door was unlocked.

“Hey! Mommy’s home!” she called out. Nothing. She sighed; nothing had changed, except that she’d subtly been made 15 years younger and given as somewhat stronger taste for sex in general and women in particular as a result of her island sojourn.

She began ascending the steps towards her bedroom, dragging her bag that seemed to weigh more with each step. By the time she’d reached the top, she’d decided that she’d had enough of the domestic drama. She was done.

Then she flipped the light on in her bedroom and got a screamed, “SURPRISE!” From her husband and three kids. They swarmed her with hugs and Andi’s eyes filled with tears.

“How was the reunion?” her husband asked. Before she could answer, she was peppered with updates.

“Daddy burned dinner.”

“Dad burned breakfast, too.”

“We went to Golden Corral.”

“Daddy said he couldn’t sleep without you next to him.”

“I did not say that!”

“I missed all of you so much!” she said, tearfully, her thoughts of a moment before a million miles away.

“Hey mommy, you look good!”


Melanie Branch, in contrast, had a welcoming committee at the airport. Five sets of eyes could tell right away that something about Mom was new and improved.

“Hey, sweetheart. Great tan,” her husband, Rev. Fisher, said by way of greeting.

“Mama, your boobies look bigger,” one of her eagle-eyed kids said.

“My God, they’re awesome,” her husband said, taking way too long to notice.

“It’s been a long time since the girls defied gravity,” she grinned at her brood. Once in the SUV, she took her favorite spot in the back seat. Her kids quickly pulled off her jacket and colorful top and made quick work of her bra. “One at a time. Make that two.”

Her husband licked his lips as he watched their youngest kids take turns feasting on the seemingly endless supply of milk her swollen boobs provided. He adjusted his mirror and looked closer.

“They are bigger. You got them fixed!” he exclaimed. “And not a single scar! That’s amazing!”

“They go in through the armpit these days,” she rolled her eyes. “I have no intention to let any of you probe under there just to see a scar that’s smaller than a dime.”

Her two teenagers, aged 13 and 15, had been patient long enough. Working in tandem, they pulled their younger siblings off their mother’s tits and latched on with a vigor that Melanie had never seen before. And for good measure, her husband had reached between the bucket seats and found her soaked pussy with his fingertips.

“I love you guys,” she sighed. Thank you, Larry


The flight home to Daytown was jam-packed, but the wall-to-wall cabin full of bodies were calm, quiet and behaved – at my insistence. Everyone kept their clothes on, although I did allow for blowjobs all around once we’d passed the point of no return.

To me, that point was a cause for celebration because Doc allowed us to have our cell phones again. It turned out that the pilot had a stash of TracPhones, and they were passed out, freshly charged. I called my house to check my ancient answering machine and was alarmed to discover I had gotten five messages from Althea in New York, as well as some messages from Los Angeles from a number I did not recognize.

When I called Althea back – I had to stop the proceedings in the executive cabin in order to concentrate – my agent screamed from her pricey New York office. I put my newly acquired cell phone on speaker at exactly the wrong moment.

“LARRY!’ she shouted loudly enough for everyone on the jet to turn their heads and look.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” I said, turning it down as quickly as I could.

“Ohmigod! Oh my God! Larry!” she blubbered.

I was beginning to be seriously concerned about Althea’s health and well-being.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I asked, looking at Doc. He shook his head and shrugged.

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s so goddam right, it’s ridiculous!” she screamed.

“Will you calm the hell down and talk to me like an adult?” I asked sharply.

“Okay,” I heard her take a deep breath and imagined her fanning herself with her free hand.

“Start at the beginning,” I said. “And everybody up here shut up, please.”

“You still on the plane?” she said. “You might get the flight to divert to New York.”

“Not happening,” I said. “We’re at capacity, and we need to get these people home. Again, will you tell me the damn story?”

“Okay. Calm now,” she said, almost convincingly. “I got a phone call two days ago from Mel Walters in California. Turns out he’s a big fan of your Peachy Keen series. A big fan. And so is his brother.”

“Okay,” I said, not quite getting it.

“Larry, do you not get it? Mel Walters’ brother is a fan,” Althea was almost whispering now.

“Althea, I’m sunburned, pussy-whipped and jet-lagged,” I sighed. “Remind me who we’re talking about.”

“Does the phrase ‘The Funnest Place on Earth’ ring a bell?” she said. “You know the name Walters? As in The Magic Walls?”

“That Walters? Wally

Walters? He’s a fan?” I asked, still nowhere near getting it.

“God, master, you’re not playing attention,” Althea shouted. “More. Than. A. Fan. As in, they’re prepared to make you an offer.”

I dropped the phone at that point, and could not find it. But I could hear Althea, and she could still hear me. So the rest of the conversation took place with me on my hands and knees.

“What kind of offer?” I shouted.

“Master, the kind that will make us so fucking rich we don’t ever have to write another book,” she said. “But you’ll want to.”

“Why is that?” I asked numbly. It sounded like the right question to ask.

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