Your bedroom

You blink and stare straight ahead.

Your bedroom stares back. The carpeted floor feels soft under your feet. You glance at the rest of your bedroom, taking in the bed itself and your computer that sits on a desk on the other side of the room.

You’re home, safe and sound in your room. Had you imagined visiting Charles? Would MILFs randomly fall into a hypnotic trance right in front of your eyes?

“John, dinner’s almost ready!” a feminine voice calls from the first floor of your house.

“Mom?” you say quietly. You walk over to the closed door of your room and open it, stepping out into the second floor hallway. You make your way over to the stairs and descend them until you reach the first floor.

The smell of fresh tomato sauce reaches your nostrils. Your stomach growls.

The light in the kitchen is on, so you make your way across the wooden floor until you stand in the doorway and behold your mother.

Linda Doe stands facing away from you as she stirs a pot of sauce on top of the kitchen stove. Her hair is a light brown with just a hint of auburn, cascading downward in waves to her shoulders. She’s wearing a light gray sweater that does little to hide her ample bust, the sides of which you can see from behind her. Her jeans are tight, hugging her matronly hips and digging slightly into the crack of her juicy bubble butt.

“Nice of you to finally come down, Sleeping Beauty,” another feminine voice draws your eyes to the kitchen table. Your older sister Tiffany smirks at you, her light green eyes staring at you. Her hair is much redder than your mother’s, tied in a cute ponytail at the back of her head. Your family had always said that the hair skipped a generation, but you don’t know if you believe it.

“Miss me, Tiff?” you snark back at her.

“In your dreams, weirdo,” your sister crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her large breasts upwards. You catch a glimpse of a wedding band around her finger, reminding of the unfortunate truth that your hot older sister has made the most serious of commitments to another man. She raises a glass of water from the table to her lips and takes a sip. You follow the bulge of her throat as she swallows.

“Be nice, you two,” your mother says. She turns to face the two of you, a stern look on her face. A slight quirk of her lips betrays her amusement at her children’s antics, however, and you smile at her.

“Hey Mom,” you say.

“Hi sweetie,” she smiles widely at you now, showing perfectly white teeth. Her pretty blue eyes gaze at you warmly as they always have, but you can detect a brittleness there, as if she’s disappointed to see you.

It doesn’t make her any less gorgeous in your eyes, however.

You know you shouldn’t be attracted to your own mother, but right now you can’t help but imagine her plump smiling lips wrapped around your cock as you sit down on the living room couch. You suppose that makes you messed up and twisted, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

“So what’s for dinner?” you make your way over the kitchen table. “And where’s Dad?”

“Mom’s making pasta. And Dad went out with Rick to get wine. How can you not know that?” Tiffany frowns at you and shakes her head. “I swear you’re such a shut-in at times. Why don’t you go out and make some friends?”

You shrug at her, ignoring the gnawing in your chest. “I’ve got plenty of friends, Tiff.”

“Ugh, your stupid video game buddies aren’t real friends,” she says. She sighs dramatically and sits back in her chair. The movement causes her breasts to jiggle in her tight tank top.

“Tiffany has a point, John. She’s three years older than you and has already started a family with her husband,” your mother points out. “Would it really be so bad for you to get a job so you can go out and meet a nice girl?”

“What, so you can have more grandkids?” you ask bitterly.

Linda shrugs, as if it never occurred to her to deny it.

“You have to admit that little Ronnie is adorable,” she says. She smiles again. “Even though the circumstances of his conception were less than ideal, Rick stepped up and took responsibility like a real man should. He’s built himself a good career to help support his family. If only my son could be that resourceful.”

She gives you a pointed look.

A surge of resentment wells up in your chest. You have a feeling that Linda would be much happier if she’d gotten Tiffany's husband Rick as a son instead of you. Hell, she practically treats him like royalty already and she’s only known him for about a year or so.

You shake your head at the thought, but also at the notion that your smoking hot mother who’s in her early forties and has body ten years younger is in fact a grandmother. Tiffany had gotten knocked up by some guy she knew in college and instead of running away like most would, he had actually married her and was now raising your one year-old nephew with her.

Tiffany takes another sip of her water.

“Rick’s been great. It was rough for a while, but you and Dad helped out so much,” Tiffany shares a smile with Linda. “Really, the daily trances have been the most difficult part of all of this to get used to.”

Wait, what?

“Oh, they’re not so bad, Tiffany,” Linda waves a hand dismissively. “You get used to them after a while. It’s not so different from taking a nap at the end of the day, and everyone is so understanding about it.”

“But it’s so weird!” Tiffany raises her hand up. “Like, yesterday I was at the dinner table with Rick and a couple of my friends from school when everything just fell out of focus. I didn’t know until a few minutes later that I’d fallen into a trance. My friends were looking at me strangely for the rest of the night. It was so embarrassing!”

Linda merely shakes her head and walks up to Tiffany, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Now now, dear. Everyone knows that all mothers fall into a trance at least once a day. Your friends must have just been coming to terms with that, that’s all. It was exactly like that after I first had you,” your mother says.

You can’t help but gape at the two of them. They couldn’t be messing with you, could they? Their stories are too similar to what you had asked for from Charles. You take a deep breath. This is real. This is really happening.

“See, even John thinks I’m a freak!” Tiffany gestures angrily at you.

Your mother follows her gesture and frowns at you.

“N-no, I don’t think you’re weird at all, Tiff. It’s just… you’re a mom now. I don’t think I’ve really come to terms with how amazing that is until now,” you say, barely able to contain your excitement. You’ve wanted your mother and your hot older sister for a long, long time, and now it turns out you might just get your wish.

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Linda walks up to you and gives you a short hug, squeezing her massive breasts against your chest. You wrap your arms around her awkwardly, forcing yourself to stop your hands from drifting down below to her tantalizing hips.

“Do you really mean that, John?” Tiffany asks. Her eyes are a little watery, as if she’s on the verge of tears.

You manage a weak nod at her and she smiles at you.

“Thank you,” she says. You almost gape at her. You’ve lived with your sister for a long time and you can count the number of times she’s thanked you on one hand.

“You don’t have to look so shocked, you dick,” Tiffany glares at you and suddenly things are back to normal.

Linda disentangles herself from you and you nearly wince at the absence of her big breasts mashed up against you. She glares up at you along with your sister, but you find it hard to take them seriously since they’re both stacked and achingly beautiful.

You gulp nervously and say, “So… how often do you usually get your trances? Can you predict them at all? Should I try to be near you when they happen in case you need help?”

“That’s a little personal, isn’t it?” Tiffany glances at your mother.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal,” Linda contradicts her daughter. She places a hand under her chin contemplatively, her arm sinking into the valley between her tits as she does so. “Your brother should know these things in case he needs to look out for us when it happens. Lord knows I made sure your father knew everything he needed to know when I first started getting my trances.”

That seems to mollify Tiffany. She nods and sighs. She leans forward and you have to **** yourself not to stare at her cleavage.

“I can’t really figure out when the trances are going to happen. I know I get them at least once a day, but sometimes it seems like they happen four or five times a day,” she shakes her head. “Those are the worst.”

“You’ll get better at dealing with them as you get older,” Linda says.

“I hope so,” Tiffany says.

A baby’s cries begin to filter throughout the household. You look into the living room and sure enough a small crib has been placed near one of the couches.

Tiffany sighs.

“Oh come on, Ronnie. I just fed you,” she rubs her eyes and stands up from the table. “Well, duty calls.”

Your sister walks to the living room, her milk-engorged breasts swaying and jiggling as she walks. Your eyes fall to her delectable rear as she passes you. Her curvy butt strains the confines of her tight black shorts.

Tiffany has always been well-developed, but it seems that becoming a mother has made her body curvier; more voluptuous. You continue to stare at her as she bends over the crib.

“Ahem,” your mother clears her throat.

You turn to look at her to find her staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” you say.

“Do you think it’s appropriate for you to look at your sister that way?” she says in a low voice.

“I-I wasn’t-”

She narrows her eyes at you and you know you’ve been caught.

“And don’t think I haven’t caught you sneaking glances at me since you came downstairs,” she gives you a disappointed look. “Really, John? Your own mother?”

You give a defeated sigh.

“It won’t happen again,” you mumble, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“It had better not, or we’ll have to have a long discussion with your father about us allowing you to stay in our house,” she says sternly. She crosses her arms across her chest and this time you don’t steal a glance at her massive mammaries as they are pushed upward, exposing her pale cleavage. “I’ve been patient with you since you graduated high school. I waited for any sign that you were willing to move on with your life and start a career. I put up with the videogames and the constant sleeping in, and your unwillingness to go out and make friends. I think that was a mistake.”

“Sorry,” you say, feeling equal parts ashamed and angry.

Your mother gives you another disappointed look before her face suddenly goes slack. Her mouth droops open slightly as she stares ahead, breathing slowly and blinking occasionally. Her hands fall lifelessly to her sides.

“Mom?” you say, beginning to grow concerned.

“Yes?” she replies. Her voice is blank, devoid of its usual life. Her normally vivid blue eyes have become glassy, as if whatever vital spark of humanity that usually lay beyond has been snuffed out.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just in another trance. It should pass within a few minutes.”

Your cock twitches.

“No way…” you breathe. You bite your lip as you collect yourself. You glance into the living room to find an empty crib and no sign of Tiffany and her baby. Maybe she’s gone upstairs.

You look back your mother, your eyes trailing down her voluptuous mature body. You want reach your hands out to squeeze her huge tits, but you don’t want to risk somehow waking her prematurely, if it’s possible.

“So… you’re hypnotized right now?”

“I’m hypnotized,” your mother replies. Something about her reply causes your manhood to harden.

“Mom, is it possible for someone to give you any post-hypnotic suggestions while you’re in a trance?”

She shakes her head in the negative, but her expression doesn’t change.

“No. That's silly,” she says.

You nod, and check the living room again for Tiffany. The room is empty. You turn back to your mother. She’s standing stock-still.

Your heart races. Can you do it? Can you really give your mother post-hypnotic suggestions to be acted upon when she leaves her trance? Will you?