The next morning, at Sharon's

You wake up the next morning feeling content and refreshed. Warm yellow morning sunlight streams lazily through the bedroom windows, wreathing Sharon’s large bedroom in a comforting amber light.

You look to your side and see Sharon still fast asleep, and you can’t help but smile. She’d latched on to your left arm at some point in the night and hadn’t let go. Her chin is resting on your shoulder. You smile as you reach your right hand over to move a stray lock of black hair out of her face.

“Mrphm…” she shifts slightly, moving her body closer to yours. Her huge tits practically hug your arm, and her body is so warm you can’t imagine ever wanting to leave her comforting embrace.

Last night was a magical experience for you. Hell, the entirety of yesterday had been. You’d had sex with Marissa, Angela, Mom, and Sharon (twice, no, three times!), and gotten a nice blowjob from Tiffany. And on top of that, you’d added Sharon’s cleaning lady Veronica and your waitress Dayna to your “phone book” of women programmed to give you a call whenever they fall into a trance. So that’s seven women you’ve gotten your hooks into. Seven women who’ll fall more and more under your influence every day. Seven women you need to figure out what the hell to do with. Besides having sex with them, obviously, because you very much intend to do that. And that’s not even considering your future “acquisitions.”

How many mothers are you going to spread your influence over? Are Sharon, Mom, and the others enough, or do you want to expand further, get your hooks into the hot moms throughout town and beyond? The more of them you acquire, the more difficult it’ll be to keep your sudden associations with them secret. People will ask questions if they notice you becoming rather popular with the women in town. Then again, if you have influence over enough mothers, especially ones in positions of power, the chances that someone will be able to do anything about it will diminish. Your mind flashes to the vision you’d had of Mom and Sharon and Tiffany and Marissa at the dinner table with you, only Angela, Veronica, and Dayna have joined them. Naked as the day they were born. But there are others standing around you now. Mothers, voluptuous and beautiful and in need of a master to reprogram them to serve you. You want them all, you realize. Each and every one of them deserves to belong to you, even if it’s just to sing your praises as you pass by them on the street. Anything less feels wrong.

You shake yourself free of the vision, pinching yourself. You need to figure out how to connect the women you already have influence over before you do anything like enslaving all the moms in town. As of now, none of them is aware of your “dealings” with the others. Only Dayna knows you’re in a relationship with Sharon, but she knows nothing beyond that.

You furrow your brow as you imagine what will happen when they find out about each other. Glancing at Sharon again and seeing her calm, serene, beautiful sleeping face, you feel a profound urge to protect her; to make sure that she doesn’t get hurt, whether physically or emotionally. You may have only just reunited with her, but it feels like you’ve been together for much longer. She’s far too intelligent for you to get away seeing your other women behind her back. It’s only a matter of time before she gets to know you better and connects the dots. Mom as well.

Your lips tug upwards as you remember the time you’d had with your mother, when you’d found her in your room and she’d given herself to you. The way she’d moaned and cried out your name as you fucked her had felt so utterly right despite its sickening wrongness (or perhaps, because of it), and the knowledge that you would both be outcasts among humanity for what you’d done. You’d felt a shift within yourself and as you looked into her beautiful blue eyes, you’d noticed the same thing occurring within her. It was like you’d both been reborn somehow, and that any act no matter how small would be influenced by what you both had done. Yet you’re still at the very beginning of your relationship.

Compulsively, you reach for your phone which sits on the bedside table. You look at the time. 9:16. You sigh inwardly when you notice the smattering of text messages and the missed phone calls from Mom. In all the excitement you’d forgotten to let her know that you were going to be spending the night at Sharon’s.

You glance at your girlfriend again, drinking in the sight of her naked body. The puffy white covers you’d replaced her original sheets with after you’d gotten them dirty cover her body up to just beneath her breasts. You lean down and plant a kiss on her forehead. She moans softly and tightens her grip around your arm.

Shit. She looks so peaceful and adorable. You don’t want to wake her up.

Slowly, gently, you extricate your arm from her grip. She whimpers and her face scrunches up cutely, but her eyes don’t open. After a minute or two, you’re free from her grip. You quietly get out from under the covers and stand from Sharon’s bed. You stretch your back and sigh as you feel a couple of satisfying cracks.

Your clothes from the night before are sitting on a rocking chair in the corner, neatly folded. You raise your eyebrows. Did Sharon do that while you were asleep or in the bathroom?

You feel a flash of affection for her, and you thank whatever cosmic **** was at work that made her visit the mall at the same time you did.

You slip on your pants, shirt, and socks and leave Sharon’s room. You think about closing the door behind you but decide against it. After all, it’s just the two of you here. You don’t have to worry about privacy or anything. Hell, you could probably have just gone downstairs naked and been fine. You glance down at your clothes and suddenly you notice they feel slightly worn and itchy.

“I should bring some clothes here next time I come over so I have something to change into,” you mutter, making a note to do just that.

After you make your way downstairs, your phone beeps.

You take it out and unlock it. A notification pops up. A new text from Mom. You open it.

<“Are you OK?”>

A nugget of guilt crystalizes in your chest, and you call her.

She picks up on the first ring.

“John?” she asks breathlessly. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you rub the back of your neck. “I ended up staying over at Sh – Jared’s.”

She lets out a deep breath, and you can’t help but picture her beautiful face worried and exhausted.

“Okay, good,” she sighs. “That’s what I figured, but when I called and you didn’t answer, I started to get worried.”

A smile comes to your lips. Something warm stirs in your chest.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Mom. If I got into any trouble, I’d have called you first thing. And even if I couldn’t either Jared or Mrs. Thompson would have reached out.”

“I know, honey! I know. It’s just,” she pauses. You hear shuffling, as if she’s moving to a different area of the house. “After what we did yesterday, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I really wish you’d have come home last night.”

Your manhood hardens.

“Oh, is that so? What would you have done with me if I came home?” you tease her.

“So many things,” she mutters. “It’d have been so risky for me to come into your room after your father and sister were asleep, but I’d have done it for you.”

A pleasant tremor runs down your spine. You’re really liking Mom now that your commands have drastically altered her mindset. You still wonder what exactly it was that made her throw herself at you yesterday after rejecting you in the basement. Maybe when she falls into a trance today, you’ll find out.

“I love you, Mom,” you say, and you find yourself meaning it, surprisingly.

“I love you, too. So, when can I expect you back? I was going to make French toast in a bit,” she dangles the invitation in front of you.

You reflexively look upward towards the ceiling. You can’t leave without saying goodbye, and you’re not sure you even want to. But you also want to spend more time with Mom, too. And Marissa. And Tiffany. And the others. Having multiple women vying for your attention was definitely not something you ever imagined being a problem.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

“My boss said I could work from home,” she says.

“Oh,” you reply lamely. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I’ve been doing it more often since Tiffany moved back in with Ronnie. I’m surprised you didn’t notice,” a hint of resignation and disappointment colors her voice, and something unpleasant tightens itself in knots in your chest.

You resist the urge to sigh.

“Sorry. I’ve just… I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, that’s all.”

“It’s fine, I understand,” she murmurs. “Well, let me know when you’re ready to come home. If Sharon or Jared can’t drive you, I can send Tiffany over to pick you up.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know,” you’re not sure what else to say. God, you had sex with her yesterday. You’d kissed her in a way no son should his mother, and she’d loved it. She clearly feels something for you, and you her, but there’s something else between you. Something tangible and real and ugly. Like rotten, termite-infested drywall you could break through if the act itself weren’t so unpleasant. Perhaps you’re both guilty of not wanting to make any real progress in your relationship.

“John,” she starts, and then pauses.

“Yeah, Mom?” you bring the phone closer to your ear, as if it would close the distance between you.

“Never mind. I’ll see you when you get back. Don’t forget to call,” her last sentence carries a bit of her trademark authoritative tinge.

Despite yourself and the awkwardness between you, you grin.

“I won’t. I promise. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too,” she says. You shift slightly. The warmth in her tone is something you’re still struggling to get used to.

She lingers on the call instead of hanging up. For a few seconds, you hear her breathing on the other line. You walk into the kitchen and notice Sharon’s discarded clothes still on the floor. Sunlight streams gently through the kitchen windows. The sky outside is deep blue and nearly cloudless. You hear the distant hum of a propeller airplane flying somewhere above you.

Then the phone clicks and the call goes dead. You stare at your phone for a few moments

Why is it still so hard to talk to her? You wonder. You feel like she’s a complete stranger. Has your relationship really deteriorated to the point where you know almost nothing about each other? Clenching your fist around your phone, you pace around the kitchen before sitting down at the table. Your eyes flick over the stainless-steel stove sandwiched between spotless white marble countertops. You briefly consider making breakfast before deciding against it. You’re not that hungry anyway.

Your phone beeps, and your screen notifies you that you have a new text message. It’s from Mom. You open it.

Instead of text, you’re presented with a selfie of your mother. It looks like she’s sitting on a black office chair in the living room, with the phone positioned above herself. She’s let her auburn hair down, and it cascades in waves past her shoulders. Her plump lips are curved sensuously as her brilliant blue eyes gaze into the camera. You read an invitation in her gaze, as if she’s urging you to come home. Your eyes inevitably drift downward. She’s wearing a black button-down sweater that hugs her upper body. The top buttons are undone, exposing Mom’s expansive cleavage.

As you stare at the image, you can’t help but marvel at how beautiful your mother is. In her forties and grandmother, she still looks hotter and more youthful than women half her age, with an enthusiasm and passion for sex you would never have expected from her. You hadn’t known that she and Dad were on such bad terms, but it makes sense in hindsight; you doubt she would have been so miserable and frustrated all the time if Dad were at least still satisfying her.

Why did she send the picture? To entice you to come home? Somehow you don’t think that’s the case, at least not all of it.

A soft creaking sound draws your eyes to the hallway. Sharon’s standing at the edge of the kitchen wearing nothing but a silk white nightgown parted down the middle, showing off her toned stomach and a good portion of her big white breasts, just barely covering her nipples. She’s not wearing any panties, so her pussy is visible to you. She holds her cellphone in her left hand.

Her face flushes slightly as you stare at her, and she smirks, her blue eyes twinkling fondly.

“Good morning,” she murmurs. “Sleep well?”

You nod rapidly. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever slept that well before. It might have had something to do with the beautiful woman cuddled up next to me.”

Sharon giggles and walks up to you, placing her phone on the table before settling behind you. Her hands find their way to your shoulders and she begins massaging you, causing you to moan as she eases the tension in your back.

“I had an amazing time, too, though I was a little surprised you weren’t in bed when I woke up,” she says, pausing her massage for a few moments, as if considering something. Her fingers begin working again. “Do you think you’ll want to stay over again in the future?”

You smile. “Of course. I’d love to. Didn’t you offer to give me a copy of your key so I could come and go whenever I wanted?”

Her fingers dig pleasantly into your shoulders, relaxing you. You lean back in the chair and groan.

“That’s right, I did. Thanks for reminding me,” she takes her hands off your shoulders and walks past you, further into the kitchen towards the mudroom. Her nightgown covers her rear only just below her juicy asscheeks, and you watch mesmerized as she walks. She disappears into the laundry room, and you hear the sound of a drawer being opened and something jangling. You hear something thunk and then Sharon walks back into the kitchen, huge breasts swaying beneath her nightgown. The silk garment slides back slightly over her left breast, exposing a hard nipple.

Your girlfriend sidles up next to you and places a keyring on the table in front of you. Two brass keys are attached. You look up at her questioningly. She puts her hands on the table and leans towards you, drawing your eyes to her dangling breasts.

“Those are my spare keys. They’re yours now,” she says. She gives her chest a little shake, causing her breasts to jiggle. “Don’t lose them.”

“I won’t,” you say seriously. “So, I’m guessing one’s for the front door and the other is for the back?”

“You got it,” Sharon replies.

“Thanks. I really appreciate the trust you’re putting in me.” You tuck the keys into your pocket.

She waves you off even as her gaze radiates warmth.

“You’re my boyfriend. At some point I’ve got to start trusting you, right? And I can’t imagine anyone I’d trust more with access to my house right now. Feel free to come over whenever you want, but I would appreciate a call or text so I can get ready for you.”

You chuckle. “Sounds good.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence.

“So,” she breaks it.

“So,” you raise your eyebrows.

“You hungry?”

You shrug. “A little, but you don’t have to make me anything. I wouldn’t want you to be late for work.”

She just smiles.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. My morning appointments rescheduled; that always happens around the holidays. I don’t have to be at my office until one-thirty,” she stares at you expectantly.

You settle back in your seat.

“Fine, I’ll take some breakfast then since you’re so insistent,” you say.

Sorry, Mom.

Sharon grins victoriously.

“Hm,” she sashays over to the refrigerator and opens it. She glances back at you. “You in the mood for an omelet?”

Your stomach growls.

“An omelet sounds good,” you say. “Can I have some orange juice, too?”

“Of course!” the beautiful brunette grins, retrieving a carton from the fridge and placing it on the counter. She opens a cabinet and reaches upward to grab a glass. Her nightgown gets dragged up slightly, revealing Sharon’s bare bubble butt. God, it’s so hard to believe you actually got to fuck her up the ass last night after you’d cum in her pussy.

Suddenly, Sharon’s phone buzzes on the table. The screen lights up with the word, “Jared.” You scowl at her phone. What the hell does that imbecile want? You’re briefly tempted to ignore the call, but of course Sharon looks back at you.

“Can you tell me who’s calling?” she asks.

You consider invoking her trigger to convince her to either ignore her phone or not answer it, but you’re kind of curious about what Jared has to say to her.

You feign discomfort.

“It’s Jared.”

Sharon stops in her tracks and looks at you, uncertainty brimming in her eyes.

“Is it… would you be okay with me answering it? I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize your therapy or make you uncomfortable. If you want, I can take it upstairs,” she says.

You resist the urge to grin. The fact that she’s asking for your permission to talk to her own son is testament to how much you’ve altered her mind. It probably won’t take much to get her to disregard Jared entirely.

“I’m okay with you answering the call here. But keep it on speaker phone. I want to hear what Jared has to say to you. I think it might be beneficial to my therapy.”

She furrows her brow, shifting uncomfortably.

“I… I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

You sigh.

“That’s okay, Sharon. Let me help you with that.”

Her eyes glaze over. Her mouth droops open slightly.

“You’ve decided that you think it’s a good idea to answer Jared’s call and put it on speakerphone. You’ve decided that I should be aware of anything you and Jared say to each other since you’re my girlfriend and you’ve decided you don’t want to keep anything secret from me. You’ve also decided that you’ll hang up on Jared when I… raise my hand.” It’ll be funny to get Sharon to cut off Jared mid-sentence if the opportunity presents itself.

After a few seconds, her eyes regain their usual life.

“Jesus, you’re right. Why didn’t I realize that earlier?” she shakes her head.

She walks up to the table, big breasts swaying and jiggling as she scoops up her phone and answers the call.

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