Some problems are opportunities in disguise

Dread fills you and gnaws at your nerves. You hug your hands to your chest to stop your arms from twitching as Tiffany strides to the door. Not even the pleasant sway of her wide hips or the jiggle of her bubble butt is enough to distract you from the knowledge of your impending doom. You have to stop this, somehow. You’ve only just gotten to this new world and you know you’ve barely even scratched the surface of what you’re capable of here.

“Wait,” the panicked utterance leaves your mouth almost by reflex. Your sister stops and turns to face you again.

“What now?” your sister asks impatiently. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them upward.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you struggle to figure out what to say. Maybe if you annoy her long enough by the time Tiffany actually opens her door, Sharon will have snapped out of her trance. A part of you instinctively cringes at the idea of missing an opportunity to further reprogram the mind of the busty raven-haired MILF, but you calm yourself. Missing a single trance isn’t a big deal. There will always be tomorrow’s hypnotic trance.

“Uh, you remember that time in your senior year when you lost your English homework and you had to do it all over again? I stole it to get back at you for not driving me to school.”

Tiffany blinks. She stares at you like she’s trying to puzzle out why you’d go out and say something like that right now. Finally, she gives a half-hearted huff that contains none of her characteristic anger.

“Huh. I totally forgot about that. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that, you idiot. That was years ago. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t done a lot worse.”

You stare at her like she’s grown three heads. What the fuck? Since when was Tiffany one to let things go, even years later? She’d always been prone to holding grudges, punishing you for even the slightest annoyance weeks, even months after the fact. She’d often get back at you in little ways; a snide comment here or there, but she’d always escalate if you retaliated. Why the hell is she not getting her phone out and whining to mom to try and get you thrown out of the house? Her programmed need for your appreciation might have something to do with it, but you have seen her exercise restraint before. Given, she’d only done so before carrying out her **** against you at some later date, but this doesn’t feel like that. Tiffany might be a good actor, adept at fooling your parents, but you’d grown up with her. You know her. If she’d been angry with you, you’d have noticed. So, the only possible explanation that you can think of is that Tiffany just isn’t as angry, petty, and vindictive as she used to be. She’d matured.

Distracted by your thoughts, you don’t notice Tiffany has turned and headed for the door again until she’s clasped her hand on the amber brass doorknob.

“Uh, w-wait! You don’t know who’s out there, Tiff. What if someone broke into the house and they’re waiting in the hallway? It could be dangerous!” you whisper just loud enough for Tiffany to hear you. She pauses at the door, glancing back to sneer at you.

“As usual, you’re being ridiculous. If someone broke in here to hurt us, do you really think they’d just sit out there in the hallway and knock on my door? You watch too many of those stupid horror movies,” she says, and twists the doorknob.

She opens the door. Light from the hallway spills into the room.

Sharon Thompson is standing there, her face blank and emotionless. Her eyes are glassy and unseeing and her hands are resting at her sides. Excitement fills you momentarily, some instinct compelling you to seize the opportunity in front of you and fill Sharon’s wide-open mind with as many life-altering commands as you can muster. Her eyes flick over to you, recognition dawning in the far-off recesses of her subconscious. It’s too late to hide now, and even if you did, she’d probably just call you or keep looking and either one of those would have looked suspicious. Fortunately, for some reason she doesn’t enter the room or try to address you.

You gulp nervously.

“Mrs. Thompson? Did you need something from us?” Tiffany asks politely, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Sharon is looking directly at you. When Sharon doesn’t respond, Tiffany frowns. She waves her hand in front of her face. “Um, hello? Anyone home?”

Shaking your head, you decide it’s better to start talking than be silent and let your sister draw her own conclusions.

“She’s hypnotized, you ditz. Just look at the way her face is slackened. She must have come up here to ask us something and fallen under after she stopped knocking.”

Tiffany winces, her eyes lowering uncomfortably. You wonder if she’s imagining what she looks like when she’s in a trance.

“Huh,” she grunts. Glancing back at you, she continues, “Shit, now I feel bad for talking to her like that.”

“Guess it’s a good thing she won’t remember a word of it,” you say.

Nodding, Tiffany grabs the door again, and you let yourself hope that she might actually close it and forget about the whole affair until Sharon wakes up. Instead, she wiggles it back and forth like she’s not sure what to do.

“You know,” your sister mutters so quietly it feels like she’s not even really talking to you. “I kind of question people who think there’s an all-knowing benevolent god if he specifically designs women so they fall into a helpless trance every day. I mean, what the fuck is the point of that?”

The point is to give you a daily opportunity to insert your whims and desires into the **** minds of whatever MILF struck your fancy, of course.

“I don’t know, but you should probably close the door so she’s not weirded out or anything when she comes to. I’ve read studies that said women who fall into a trance and wake up to find the environment around them unchanged are much more able to adjust to it.”

Tiffany nods. She starts swaying her body, seemingly unconsciously, drawing your eyes to her big round butt.

“You’re probably right,” she starts closing the door.

“Wait,” another spike of temptation seized you. You gulp, staring at Sharon’s absolutely ravishing body. She’d sucked you off earlier, even eaten popcorn covered in your cum, but she’d never let you have sex with her. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. Your throbbing cock pokes at the material of your pants.

Tiffany glances at you questioningly.

“I gotta use the bathroom,” you say.

Your sister rolls her eyes and opens the door again.

“Fine. Go,” she allows you passage. You gratefully accept, stepping past her into the hallway.

“Pssst.”

Glancing back at your sister, you find her staring at you intently. She leans forward, squeezing her huge milky breasts into her cleavage. Your eyes flick to them immediately, drawing a smirk from her.

“Next time you want to have a little fun when Rick isn’t around, don’t bother knocking. I’ll keep my door unlocked just for you,” she whispers, shutting the door with a low thud and denying you a chance to respond.

You shake your head, attempting to clear your thoughts.

The slow sound of breathing draws your eyes to Sharon again. She’s still hypnotized, apparently, staring ahead at the door. Why didn’t she enter when she saw you like Mom had when you’d opened the door for her two nights ago? Whatever. It probably doesn’t really matter. You still have time with her in a trance and you want to use it as best you can.

Conscious of your proximity to Tiffany’s room, you move behind Sharon, pressing yourself against her back. Your clothed hard cock nudges its way between her two pant-clad asscheeks. Sharon doesn’t react.

“Hey Sharon. Can you hear me?” you whisper into her ear. The dark-haired MILF nods.

You lower your hands to grab handfuls of those juicy asscheeks.

You’d thought long and hard about what sort of commands you’d give Sharon the next time she fell into a trance. While you wanted her to basically be your obedient slut who would do whatever you wanted, the process of getting her there would take some time. You’d have to carefully rearrange her priorities, memories, and emotions in just the right way to prevent any acts of defiance like the one you experienced at the theater. She’d threatened to cut you off from public displays of affection if they in any way endangered her practice. You could make her deprioritize her career, but you’re not sure you want to do that yet. It could change her in some unforeseen way and make her less than the person she is now, and while you don’t necessarily have a problem with that, the changes would undoubtedly be noticed by anyone she knows, and you want to put as much suspicions off yourself as humanly possible.

That was why you’d decided to go along a different track for now. Something that will expand your control over Sharon by many orders of magnitude while minimizing any changes you could make to her personality.

“Do you remember back in the movie theater when you admonished me for talking about the blowjob you gave me?”

Sharon nods. “Yes,” she mutters quietly.

“You threatened to cut off our therapy at least in public, didn’t you?”

The raven-haired MILF lets out a distressed whine.

“I did,” she sounds regretful even through the mind-numbing properties of her trance. “I’m sorry…”

“Are you, though? You did it despite the negative effect it could have on my recovery.”

“I’m so sorry, John,” she repeats softly. Her body trembles slightly. It seems like despite the authoritative front she’d put up for you, threatening to hobble your “recovery” was something that pained her immensely to do. You can use that.

“Your practice is obviously important to you, Sharon. That’s why you threatened me, isn't it?”

Sharon nods again.

“It’d be easier to help with my recovery if you could do it whenever I needed it, regardless of whether or not it jeopardized your practice. Right?”

“Mhm.”

“Say it, but do it quietly.”

“It’d be easier to help you with your recovery if I could do it whenever you needed it, even if it put my career in danger…” she says obediently even as you shove your tentpole further between her fat asscheeks.

“But your career is very important to you. Say it.”

“My career is important to me,” she whispers.

“It’s difficult for you to reconcile your need to help me recover from Jared’s bullying and your need to keep your career intact. If you’re going to help me recover, I’m going to need treatment from you rain, shine, sleet or snow. In public or private. I’m going to need everything you have to offer me. You’re not going to be able to aid in my recovery if you can’t decide between saving me and saving your career, are you?”

“No…”

“You can’t decide between preserving your career and helping me recover.”

She doesn’t respond.

“You’ve never struggled with a more difficult choice before, have you?”

“I haven’t…” she moans.

“You love your career, but you also know that helping me recover is one of the most important things you could possibly do. You don’t just want me to recover, you need me to recover, if only to purge yourself of all the guilt and pain you surely feel every time you think about all the suffering inflicted because you’d given birth to Jared and hadn’t raised him to be a decent human being. Every time you think about the choice, it pains you. You wish you didn’t have to choose, don’t you?”

A nod.

“Say it.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose,” she replies readily.

Your cock twitches between her asscheeks.

Your lips curl into a wicked grin.

“Say it again.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose.”

“Again, and feel yourself meaning it even more.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose,” she repeats again, her voice noticeably more firm than before.

“It’s painful, isn’t it? Making choices like that?”

“It’s painful,” she nods again.

“It’s miserable. It’s hard. It’s painful.”

“Miserable…” she whimpers.

“You wish you didn’t have to make hard decisions like that one.”

“I wish I didn’t have to make hard decisions…”

“What if I told you I knew of a way you didn’t have to make the choice between helping me and keeping your career?”

She shivers, but doesn’t respond.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

Hesitantly, she shakes her head.

You smile, wondering exactly how painful that admission had been for her to make.

“It’s understandable. After all, you are feeling a lot of pain and misery because you can’t decide whether to help me or your career. But you wish you didn’t have to choose.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose.”

“You wish you didn’t have to choose. You wish you didn’t have to make tough choices.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose. I wish I didn’t have to make tough choices,” she repeats you without your prompting, her voice taking on an eerily **** cadence. It’s like she’s trying to manifest her desires into reality.

“What if someone made those choices for you?” you whisper into her ear.

She goes silent and completely still, like an animal in the woods upon hearing a twig snap in the distance.

“You say you wish you didn’t have to make tough choices, and you don’t. Someone could make them for you. It’d save you so much pain and agony and misery. To put the burden of my recovery and your career on someone else. Think back to our time at the theater. Wouldn’t it have been a lot easier if you hadn’t had to worry about protecting your career while your lips were wrapped around my cock? You could have just focused on helping me recover. The gnawing thoughts of you possibly being discovered and losing your practice would have been completely absent from your mind, because the choice would already have been made by someone else. You would just have to go with the flow, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d go with the flow,” she whispers. She moves, then, grinding her ass upon your thick penis.

You stare at her with wide eyes. This is the first time any of the MILFs you’d met had actually moved of their own accord under hypnosis. Now that you think about it, shouldn’t Sharon’s trance have ended already? With the time she’d spent coming up to Tiffany’s room, knocking and waiting for you to come out and command her, at least half of her five minute trance time should already have passed. You’ve spent at least five minutes commanding her outside Tiffany’s door.

“Sharon?”

No response.

“Can you hear me, Sharon?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

You shake your head. Maybe the five minute trance time isn’t exact? Perhaps it varies slightly from person to person? You do think your time spent with Tiffany in a trance was pretty short. Or perhaps there’s some other effect at play here. Regardless, you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Now, where were you?

Ah, yes.

“Let’s assume that someone else made your decisions for you. In that case you wouldn’t have to make any tough choices, would you?”

She nods.

“You wish you didn’t have to choose.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose,” she parrots your words readily. They must be deeply etched into her psyche now.

“Why do you wish you didn’t have to choose?”

She’s silent for a few seconds. You’re about to rephrase your question when she finally responds.

“Because no matter what I choose, the results are painful.”

You nod.

“If you have to make a decision and both choices offer painful results, that must mean making choices is in and of itself painful. Isn’t that right, Sharon?”

She doesn’t respond. You ground your cock up and down between her pliant buttcheeks.

“You wish you didn’t have to choose.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose.”

“You wish you didn’t have to choose because making choices leads to painful results.”

She swallows audibly.

“Making choices leads to painful results,” she moans.

Your devious smile would probably have set off every alarm bell in her head if she were awake and facing you.

“Say it again, and feel the potential pain and anguish that comes with making choices.”

She whimpers.

“Making choices leads to painful results.”

“If making choices leads to painful results, that must mean not making choices would be less likely to cause you pain.”

You didn’t phrase it as a question, but she nods nonetheless, accepting your logic.

“But you can’t go through life standing still. You have to act and react to the things around you. You have to make choices, but those choices will always cause you pain. You can’t escape it. But you wish you could.”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose,” she replies pensively.

“What if I told you that you didn’t have to choose? Would you believe me?”

“No. I have to make choices,” she almost whines.

“Do you want to believe me?”

After a moment of silence, she nods. Bingo.

“You want to believe you don’t have to make choices. Say it, and feel all the potential pain of all your choices melt away for a single fleeting moment.”

“I want to believe you when you say I don’t have to choose,” she says with some finality.

“Did you know you’re in a hypnotic trance right now, Sharon?”

She shakes her head.

“No, but I suspected…”

“I have a unique ability that lets me speak directly to your subconscious mind. Your conscious mind will never be aware of it, and you don’t want it to be. Your conscious mind is what is preventing you from believing that you don’t have to choose. You need to let go of that, Sharon. Let go, and I can trigger your subconscious mind to take away your conscious mind’s ability to make decisions in certain situations. You’d never have to make a choice again if you didn’t want to. Imagine all of that pain and anguish and suffering melting away as you live a life free from choice. Free from pain. Is that something you would wish for?”

“I wish I didn’t have to choose…” she nods.

“From now on, whenever I and only I say the words ‘let me help you with that’, you will stop thinking and listen as I tell you exactly what choice you should make at any given moment. Whatever choice I make for you will sound completely rational to you and you will carry it out wholeheartedly and without a second thought. The pain you’d normally feel when making decisions will melt away, replaced by a calm certitude. Do you understand?”

You’re taking a great risk attempting to implant a post-hypnotic trigger. After all, you have no idea if that’s even possible with the type of hypnosis that MILFs in this world experience, but you’ll never know if you don’t try and the rewards promise to be beyond imagining.

“…I understand…” she whispers the words so quietly you almost don’t hear them.

You want to laugh, but you’re still trying to be quiet since the only thing separating you and Sharon from Tiffany is a wooden door. Thankfully at some point she’s apparently decided to play some music. Hopefully that’s gone a long way towards preventing her from realizing you’ve been talking to a hypnotized Sharon.

“Turn around and face me,” you command, backing up slightly so you’re no longer touching her.

She obeys immediately, turning to face you. Her beautiful sapphire eyes are still deliciously blank.

Then she blinks.

Life immediately returns to her gaze, and she frowns.

“John?” she gives you a strange look before turning around to look at Tiffany’s door.

“This is pretty strange. I remember facing Tiffany’s door, but now suddenly I’m facing you?”

She shakes her head.

“God, I must be losing it.”

You simply smile.

“Let me help you with that, Sharon.”

Her face slackens. Her eyes stare at you intensely, as if waiting for something. Her mouth droops open slightly and a dollop of saliva accumulates at the edge of her lips.

“Don’t worry about what just happened, Sharon. Just realize that there’s nothing unusual about anything that’s gone on here. Now knock on Tiffany’s door and when she answers, ask her if she’s seen me. When she tells you I’ve gone to the bathroom, go meet me there. It’s two doors down the hallway to your left.”

You hadn’t given her a trigger to close out whatever choice you made for her. That might be a significant oversight you’ll have to correct in the future. You don’t have anything else to say, so you remain silent for a few more seconds, hoping that Sharon’s subconscious mind will take the hint and start thoughtlessly carrying out your commands.

Your patience is soon rewarded when Sharon blinks again. She smiles serenely, like she’s just spent a full day at the most relaxing spa on the planet.

Without a word to you, she spins around and knocks again on Tiffany’s door.

You move down the hallway and enter the bathroom. The floor is marked with black and white square tiles. The white squares are larger, but the black ones are arranged on a tilted axis, looking more akin to diamond shapes. Bright afternoon sunlight streams into the room through a half-open window which gives you a decent view of your backyard. It’s mostly grass for the first ten yards or so before giving way to a thicket of maples, oaks, and one or two evergreens.

You hear Tiffany’s door creak open. Loud early-2010s pop music spills out into the hallway.

You hear two feminine voices mutter at each other, but they’re not loud enough for you to grasp exactly what they’re saying, though you’re pretty sure you know exactly how the conversation is going to go.

Moments later, the two women exchange their final words and Tiffany closes her bedroom door. Her music which had once echoed through the hallway was reduced to a repeating muffled hum which coursed through the walls.

Sharon’s shoes clack against the wooden-floored hallway and within seconds she’s looking at you through the bathroom doorframe. Your eyes fall to her large breasts, confined in that offending blouse of hers.

She blinks.

“Hi,” she greets you. “You told me to come here after Tiffany said you were here. So, did you need something from me?”

Your cock is at full mast, so aroused are you by what you’d done to poor Sharon’s wide-open mind. You have a much greater measure of control over her now, a means by which you can trigger absolute, unthinking obedience in her. The fact that you’d done this to the mother of your most hated high school bully is incredibly satisfying. You’re looking forward to the time when he comes back from college. By then, you’ll have enough devoted MILF servants that you won’t have to worry too much about altering any of their personalities and lifestyles. You’ll still want to avoid scrutiny from men and women who don’t have children, but there are enough mothers at every level of society that you could theoretically exert dominance over your entire town. When Jared gets back from school, he will be walking into your domain. A place where you’re in complete control.

You smile and beckon Jared’s voluptuous mother into the bathroom. She obeys, and at your direction she closes the door behind her.

She glances meaningfully between your legs and lets out a soft sigh.

“I see. So you want me to take care of you again, already? God, you’re insatiable,” she walks up to and puts a hand on your groin, quickly grasping your shaft. “What the hell am I going to do with you?”

Her lips twitch upward slightly, even as her authoritative, intelligent eyes promise that there are limits to what she’ll do for you. Thankfully, you no longer need her permission for anything anymore.

“I know when you said we couldn’t have sex, it must have been really tough for you to make that choice. Let me help you with that, Sharon.”

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