Straighten Out Mom

Did my parents need to be dealt with? After some thought, the answer I came to wasn't a decisive yes or no, but a frustrating maybe.

Rebecca had kissed mom full-on the lips yesterday, but managed to play it off as saying 'I love you' European style. Between me playing along with Rebecca's excuse and dad showing up, mom had let it go, but I'm not sure if that was because she bought the excuse or if she just hadn't wanted to make a scene in front of dad.

Maybe mom would keep ignoring it. Alternatively, she could bring it up in an inopportune time and ruin my planning. It would be better if I took initiative and removed my parents from play, either by dumbing them down in dad's case or by actively recruiting them in mom's case.

My power wasn't unlimited. The man who gave them to me had specified that I could only make one suggestion per day, and the person to who I made the suggestion would take it to heart. The first day, I had made my suggestion to Rebecca to be nice. The second, I had accidentally turned Alice into my devoted redhead assistant.

In both cases, I hadn't realized that I had powers, and so I had been fairly indirect about my power-usage. Both commands had been something that came up in a casual conversation; the first was meant to get my sister to stop picking on me and the latter was meant to feel Alice out before I progressed.

They both got me laid, but that wasn't the original intent. Given how well they worked regardless, it made me curious. How strong would a command be if I was more direct about what I wanted?

I had to wait an unfortunately long time to test it out. Thanks to the one-a-day limitation for my power, I couldn't modify both mom and dad at the same time. Luckily, dad worked an eight-hour evening shift starting at four pm. Once he left, he wouldn't be back until midnight.

Waiting until four had been easy. Waiting until five had been harder, mainly because I kept changing my mind on whether I should wait for Rebecca to go to work as well.

On the one hand, Rebecca had kissed mom on the mouth- tongue, and all- because it would make me happy. I doubted she would object to bringing mom into our relationship more directly.

On the other hand, what I was doing might be fine, but how I was doing it might not be. Rebecca didn't know about my powers, and I didn't want to give her reason to suspect I had them. As far as she knew, she had decided to be nicer to me of her own accord, and it would likely stay that way unless I started using my powers to modify women in front of her. If I did it enough times, she might catch on that something wasn't right.

I spent that last hour, stretching from four to five, second-guessing my decision. I thought about what I'd do- what I'd say- if Rebecca ever caught on to my powers. It would probably be something along the lines of: 'It's not nice to be suspicious of your brother or accuse him without proof.' The word 'nice' seemed to be a trigger to get her to do what I wanted.

It might work, and if it didn't, I would get a new command the next day which I could use to sway her back to my side. The thought of jumping the gun, taking a risk, and getting rewarded with a threesome was tempting.

I didn't act on the temptation, however, and decided to let this opportunity pass me by because a better one was on the horizon. All I had to do was wait.

Dad worked at Malcolm's Real Estate Firm as an agent. He showed prospective buyers different houses and tried to find them one they liked. The firm wanted to ensure that their more experienced agents were available at the busiest times, and dad had been working with them for twenty-two years.

Most clients tended to show up after they were done with work, hence why dad worked the evening shift. A disproportionate number of clients also tended to come on Friday evening, and on Saturday and Sunday because they didn't have work on those days.

Consequently, dad had an irregular work schedule. He still had two days off per week, but they weren't Saturday and Sunday. Instead, he got Monday and Wednesday off.

Mom was a stay-at-home wife who was at home all seven days a week. Rebecca worked but she followed a more standard schedule and had Saturday and Sunday off. I was a full-time student who also had the weekend off. In other words, I had both ladies to myself for eight hours on the weekend.

Today was Thursday. If I took control of mom today and modified dad on Friday, everything would be in place by the time the weekend rolled around. All I had to do was wait.

I was starting to hate the word 'wait.'

I managed it well, for a certain definition of well. By the time five o'clock rolled around, I was rock hard in anticipation; a state not helped by Rebecca choosing to tease me on the way to her Honda. She saw me watching her leave out the window and decide to give me a show, cocking her hips and doing her little dance to drive my mind into the gutter.

By the time she left, laughing, I was thoroughly flustered and had yet another reason to be direct. Urged on by my erection, I went for it. "I'm making a harem of beautiful women, and as my mom, you should be in it. You're supposed to love me and put my needs and wants before yours, right?"

My mouth hung open, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say.

I was sure that I had locked the bathroom door- but had I? It was possible that I had forgotten. Or maybe John hadn't realized that I was in the shower and picked the lock.

Not for the first time, I had regretted installing such an easily picked door, but it had made sense when we had installed it.

When Rebecca had been five, she hadn't realized that the shower floor was slippery and hopped in, tripping and breaking her arm in the ensuing fall.

From the other side of the locked door, we could hear her cry, but we couldn't get the door open, and screaming at Rebecca to open the door hadn't been helpful. The key to the bathroom wasn't something we had to use often and we couldn't remember where we put it in the ensuing chaos.

In the end, instead of spending time looking for the key, Edward went for the more direct approach and kicked the door down before driving Rebecca to the hospital.

In the aftermath, we had talked and decided the best way to avoid a repeat was to get a more easily opened door in case of an emergency. In hindsight, it might have been better to get a normal door and keep track of the key.

I blamed our poor decision on having two young kids driving us insane.

In the end, the door we had gotten had a flat lock and could be turned by holding a quarter horizontal, inserting it into the lock, and twisting it.

It had come in handy since then because Rebecca reflexively twisted the lock every time she opened the bathroom door. The habit was useful when she was entering the bathroom because it ensured that the door was always locked. It was less useful when she was exiting the bathroom because if Rebecca was on autopilot, she would lock the door before exiting.

Being able to open the door to the now empty bathroom without looking for the key was convenient enough that we hadn't changed the door after our kids grew up.

It was possible that John picking the door and entering while I was showering was an innocent mistake. Both Edward and Rebecca worked in the morning, so they got dibs on the bathroom in the order they had to leave. Edward went first and then Rebecca. John and I had to wait for them to leave before we got our shot.

While John had been seeing Rebecca off, I had decided to slip in to take my shower before he could, beating him to the punch. He'd have to go last today, which served him right. He used all the hot water yesterday!

It was possible that John hadn't realized that I was inside, though he should have heard the water running. It was possible that he had thought that Rebecca, the person to have used the bathroom before me, had repeated her occasional mistake and locked the door on the way out. It was possible that he had shared my rush, trying to beat me to the bathroom, and hadn't noticed I wasn't in any of the other rooms.

All of these things were possible- but were they likely? On a different day, I would have said yes, but I remembered yesterday. After my daughter had kissed me on the lips and slipped her tongue into my mouth, and after her brother decided to help her cover, I had decided to keep an eye on them.

I had watched how they behaved during dinner, and I noticed things that disturbed me. I noticed how Rebecca kept grazing John's arm with her chest, and I remembered her dropping a dumpling down her shirt. I remembered how she had waited before picking it up and eating it, making sure we- and John in particular- had a good look first. And I remembered the sudden camaraderie that had sprung up between the siblings after borderline hostile interactions for the last half-a-decade.

I prayed I was overthinking things. I prayed that Rebecca's kiss was innocent. I prayed that the kiss had primed my mind to look for things that weren't there. And I prayed that my kids weren't actually engaging in ****.

If they were, I wasn't sure what I would do, but until I had more proof one way or another, I wasn't going to act on it. This was the sort of accusation that could ruin families. I promised myself that I would wait and watch and only go to their father when I was sure that I wasn't imagining things.

And yet there was no denying the hunger and lust that resided in John's hazel eyes as he stared at me. Even worse, I recognized it. It was the same look that had been in his eyes when Rebecca had dropped that dumpling in her shirt.

Ice crept up my spine and a feeling of dread came over me as another piece of evidence presented itself for a theory I didn't want to be true. It froze me solid, and for a few seconds, I gaped at him as he gazed at me.

My free hand hid my womanhood from him but my chest was still exposed. I would have covered it with my right hand, but that hand was still holding the shower-head, sprinkling water across my abs and legs.

And then the second passed and I came back to my senses. Whatever the reason behind this intrusion, John was still here. I needed to get him out before anything else. I could investigate why he had entered once I toweled off and put some clothes on.

My mouth opened to tell him to leave, but then he spoke. "I'm making a harem of beautiful women, and as my mom, you should be in it. You're supposed to love me and put my needs and wants before yours, right?"

For a second, the dread returned, more intense than ever as John as good as told me what I feared was true. "I'm making a harem of beautiful women, and as my mom, you should be in it." Clearly, John didn't mind **** and Rebecca didn't either, judging by the kiss she gave me yesterday. How could I have given birth to such sick freaks?

How could they think that I was going to be okay with this? How could John think I'd join in?

I would have to talk to their father and then we would have to seek professional help for the two of them. There was no other way.

And that was when I processed the next sentence and the guilt hit me. I was an awful mother. What was wrong with me?

A parents first and main job was to look after their kids. To provide their necessities, to make sure that they were safe, and to make sure they were happy. Here I was, failing at one of the most basic tasks. How could I think of turning my son in, knowing how unhappy it would make him? And not just my son, but my daughter as well.

I was failing both of my children, not just one.

Or maybe I wasn't wrong. The very thought made my stomach lurch, but I **** myself to think it through. **** was wrong. There was no arguing about that. From a scientific point, I could talk about the dangers of inbreeding, and from a moral point, I could talk about things like **** of power in the case of parent-child relationships.

I didn't need to win a debate though. For me, it was enough to know that **** was wrong and that entering into an incestuous relationship- or even just turning a blind eye to the one between my son and my daughter- was wrong. I didn't want to do it.

But did that matter?

Part of being a parent was supposed to be about putting the wants and needs of your child above your own, and I had been failing at that for so long. I hadn't thought I was a bad parent, but the more I thought about it, the more examples of my selfishness came to mind and the guilt mounted.

The most recent example was in my hand at the very moment. The warm drizzle of water erupting from the shower-head made me feel cold. Hadn't I made a beeline for the bathroom precisely because I wanted to beat John to the hot water? That was a clear example of me putting my wants before his, though I hadn't thought of it as such at the time. And to make matters worse, I had simultaneously failed to see my daughter off to work so I could steal the hot water.

I really was an awful parent.

I had to make things up to John if I wanted to be able to look myself in the mirror. Otherwise, this guilt would haunt me forever. If my penance required joining John's harem, then that was what I was going to do, no matter how much it made my stomach roll.

I offered my assent and smiled at my son. I hoped he didn't notice how frail the smile was.

Mom wasn't freaking out, which was a clear sign that my command had taken hold. Given how direct this command was, there wasn't much wiggle room for her to disobey me. I was confident that she'd do what I wanted. As to what I wanted...

"You won't believe what Rebecca texted me yesterday," I told mom, handing her my phone. I knew what was on the screen, so I didn't need to look at it. I watched her instead, and I got to enjoy how her eyes widened as she read the message.

Mom didn't know that I had given Rebecca a list of things I wanted her to do and had asked for a sexy pic of mom. As far as she was aware, Rebecca had chosen to send me a wank text featuring her out of the blue. The fact that these were the first two text messages in the thread made it even better.

I also got to enjoy her reaction to the realization of why I had asked her to put on this particular outfit.

Our house had plenty of windows and we had neighbors. If I wanted to keep things hidden, I figured that it would be best if I drew the curtains and got things set up. While I prepared the bedroom for her arrival, I had asked mom to get changed into the same blue bikini she had been wearing in the picture.

She could probably guess where I was going with this, and I didn't hesitate to confirm her suspicions. My hands snaked across her back, slithering across the bare skin and enjoying how she trembled at my touch. My heart pounded faster as I found the knot holding the bikini up and undid it.

"Sorry mom, but your top's gone. The tide carried it out to sea." It might as well have been lost at sea. I wouldn't be giving it back. It would be joining Becky Sock as part of my collection.

It took me off guard when mom decided to play along, "Turn around." Her voice was shaky, not at all filled with the fire of command. It wasn't very convincing, especially with her hazel eyes glancing at me from beneath thick lashes as though to ask, 'Is this alright?'

It didn't call her out on her awful acting. My hands simply went lower, touching her rear and pulling her closer. Her words might not have been very sincere, but as my mouth closed around her nipples, she squealed and there wasn't a trace of falsity in that squeal.

My attack lasted only a second, meant to take her off guard and get her to show some sincerity. Not removing my hands from her ass, I whispered, "Come now, I just want to see your fat titties. It would make me feel good. A good mom would want her son to feel good, wouldn't she? Are you a good mom?"

"Yes." The word slipped out quickly as though by reflex. She looked like she wanted to change her answer, but I didn't give her a chance.

"Are you? I don't think you are. A good mom wouldn't hide her tits, and that's all you've been doing. I don't think you're a good mom, but I think you can be. Why don't you hold them up for me? Let me see."

Her hands obediently cupped under her chest and lifted, raising her pair high until it was horizontal to the ground. And then she paused, unsure of what to do next. Said pause broke when I spoke again. "Nice. I think I'll take a picture."

For the first time since I gave my command, mom showed something resembling resistance. Her hands dropped down to her side, sending her large breasts crashing back down as gravity reasserted itself. While my eyes were fixed on her chest, mom's eyes had fixed on to my phone.

"What?" She winced, "I mean, I thought you wanted to follow the script. Taking pictures of me isn't on the script."

I wondered whether that was the only way she could disagree- or resist- me. By phrasing things in terms of things that I wanted and needed, while really doing what she wanted to do. If it was, I'd be fine. I could easily counter that approach.

"Rebecca spent so much time and effort digging up the photo of you and coming up with a scenario for me to get off to. I want to thank her for taking the time to make it, and I want to thank her by letting her watch it get me off." Both times, I made sure to emphasize the phrase 'I want' to shut down her opposition. And then, to punish her for trying and to discourage future attempts, I tossed in, "You know what? Fuck pictures. I want to send her a video instead."

Mom could only watch helplessly as I propped the phone against her vanity and hit record. "And now you're not showing your nice titties to one of your kids like a bad mom, but both your kids so you're not playing favorites like a good mom. Becca deserves to see them too, doesn't she?"

"She does," mother sounded resigned as she raised her breasts, facing the camera. Her hazel eyes locked on the lens. Louder and more confidently than I expected, she said, "Hello, Rebecca. I hope you enjoy my tits as much as your brother does." And then, perhaps to make up for the fact that Rebecca missed the first half of the show, mom threw in a bonus, bouncing her cups up and down of her own volition, making the jugs dance.

She was focused on her performance to the point where I was able to walk around the edge of the frame and enter the shot without her noticing until I was next to her. To her credit, she didn't squeal this time as my hands wound around her waist and pulled her close so I could get at her breasts again. She did gasp, but other than that she was quiet. Too quiet.

I took a break from my feast to murmur, "I want to hear you mommy. Don't try to keep your moans down," and then I was back at it, going from one tit to another. This time my actions were accompanied by a deluge of squeaks, gasps, and moans driving me onward.

Somewhere during it, my hand had slipped between her legs and started tracing the outline of her pussy through the increasingly damp cloth of her panties. I wondered if the camera was good enough to pick up on mom's arousal.

The answer was probably not. If I wanted to make it clear just how aroused mom was, then I would have to take extra steps. Her moans were a good start, but not nearly enough on their own.

Not missing a beat, I started to gently guide her backward until we had both reached the bed she had shared with dad. The bed that they had bought in senior year of high school after he had knocked mom up with Rebecca and shared since then.

I realized that this would be the first time that mom would be bringing a man other than dad to this bed, and I loved the thought.

Once we were seated on the edge, I took a break from her amazing tits and started to kiss her. She must have realized I wanted her to reciprocate, because she did, kissing me back gently. She never initiated a kiss, but she matched my tempo well. All the while, my hand was nestled between her legs, spreading her wide slowly as I alternated between massaging her inner thigh and dragging my fingers across her crotch.

I pulled away, breathless, an honest smile on my face. "You're finally acting like a good mom should, but a day worth of good parenting doesn't make up for two-decades worth of bad. You agree don't you?"

"I do." This time, mom sounded sincere. Either she genuinely meant it or she had gotten better at acting since we began. She probably meant it.

"Then you won't complain about the punishment I'm going to give you." I had intended to bend her over my lap like Rebecca had written out in her scenario, but that would keep the camera from getting a good look at her ass as it turned red, and I didn't want it to miss that. "Bend over doggy-style, ass facing the camera," is what I say instead.

My earlier punishment worked, and she doesn't complain 'this isn't in the script' again. Silently, she turned around, bending over first and then crawling onto the bed.

From behind, no one would notice if the occasional glimmer of **** shimmered across her face. What they would notice was her fantastic ass, bigger than Rebecca's. They would notice how it protruded out between my grasping fingertips as I massaged it. And they would notice how it jiggled as I slapped it.

It didn't take long for red hand-prints to form on her rear, serving as a make-shift brand. Every slap after it made the red even more prominent, especially as I used the red as a homing beacon for future spanks.

I liked the thought of marking her in this subtle way, and would have continued if her gushing pussy hadn't caught my attention. It was easy to tell even through her panties. The liquid had turned the center of the bright blue panties into a darker navy. When I paused to peel it off her, I was surprised to see her vagina pulsate, as though desperately seeking a cock to clamp down around.

"I knew you liked it! Look at how aroused you are. And here you were pretending you didn't like this." My voice dropped a few octaves, taking on a husky tone, "Don't worry mommy. We'll be doing this whenever dad's not around." A final slap on the ass sent her into a shrieking, messy, orgasm.

I wondered if the strength of it was because of my powers sexually rewarding her for doing what I wanted- playing along with the story and showing off for Rebecca- or if it was because she genuinely liked getting spanked.

Based on my experiences with Rebecca, I suspected it was the former. Whenever I thanked Rebecca for being nice, she had a borderline orgasmic reaction. I could only assume that all women would have a similar reaction to obeying my commands.

"Oh? Cumming without me? That's not something that a good mommy would do. I don't think you're a good mom yet, but I want you to be. You want to be one, don't you?"

The answer was obvious. Even if she didn't, her answer became fixed the minute I said I wanted her to be. "I do."

"Then you promise to try harder to be better from now on?"

"I promise I'll do my best to be a good mom from now on." The words slipped easily from her mouth, and I turned my head further towards her, facing away from the camera now so that it couldn't see my menacing smile.

"Talk is cheap, mommy dearest. Action, on the other hand, is valuable. There are two things you can do to start making amends. First, a good mom wouldn't favor one child over the other. You're having sex with me today, but I want you to take care of Rebecca too. You can fuck her on Saturday."

"That makes sense," mom agreed, still facing forward so I couldn't see her face- couldn't see what she really thought about this. She had collapsed onto her forearms from exhaustion and was waiting for her second wind before moving. "What's the second thing?"

"And second- well, you haven't actually had sex with me yet. I spanked you and you came like a bad mom. The least you can do is pay me back for the orgasm I gave you."

Mom's body stiffened. "Wait. You mean-" her question was cut off by her own shriek as I thrust into her sopping wet quim. I had been rock hard since four pm and it had been nearly two hours since then. Rebecca wouldn't be back for another two hours, and dad wouldn't be back for another six. I had all the time- and all the stamina- in the world, and I had neither reason nor inclination to hold back from railing the buxom woman before me.

That was the day that I learned that I could cum even more frequently than once every fifteen minutes if I was motivated. I had been very motivated.

Notes: I thought I was smarter than I actually was, having put the picture of the mom in a text conversation. Didn't realize how small the pic would be until I had already made it. Here's a zoomed in version of it in case the text version is too small.

If you're wondering, the model's name is Bryci. The original picture had her in a red bikini but Raizuto photoshopped it into becoming blue. Thank you Raizuto!

In other news, this chapter was commissioned by The Wiz for February 2021. He's the only commissioner requesting chapters for this story so expect one a month. If nothing changes, there will be another one in March 2021. If you want a chapter sooner, you can always commission one by joining me at patreon.com/malkuthze

Also, I have a notes document for this story located here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/notes-47264304. Don't worry, this one is free. You don't need to pay to look at it.

That's all for me. See you next month!