Your mother gets comfortable

You stare for a few seconds at your mother’s pale face. You trace her smooth, creamy skin down to her expansive cleavage and even further to her wide child-bearing hips. Her subdued blue eyes don’t react to the way you stare at her with a hunger no son should possess for his mother’s supple body.

“Mom?” you say.

“Yes?” she replies, her voice flat.

You look around the first floor again for Tiffany. No sign of her.

You stare at your mom's huge breasts. An idea pops into your head.

"Jump up and down until I say 'stop.'" you say.

Your mother obeys. She hops in place. Her breasts jiggle and sway wildly as she jumps. Up and down. Up and down.

You have a shit-eating grin on your face when you tell her to stop. She settles back into place, staring placidly ahead of herself but appearing to see nothing.

Your mind goes back to conversation you'd had with your mother when she caught you ogling your sister's big breasts and ass. You wonder if you can convince your mother that she never saw you do that.

“You didn’t see me… you didn’t catch me checking out Tiffany.”

She furrows her brow. For a moment you’re worried that she’s waking up, but she continues speaking in the same far-off voice.

“I didn’t… no,” she says.

“You didn’t catch me checking out Tiffany,” he repeat. You try to keep your voice calm.

“I… I didn’t catch you checking out Tiffany,” she says.

“Holy fucking shit,” you say quietly. Apparently you can alter people's memories when they're in a trance.

You bite your lip as a heavy sense of anticipation floods throughout your body.

“I didn’t check you out either,” you say.

“I… But I saw…”

“You didn’t see me check you out earlier.”

Linda blinks.

“I… didn’t see you check me out earlier?” she says in a quiet, uncertain voice.

“Say it again,” you say. Your cock is rock hard, straining the material of your shorts.

“I didn’t see you check me out earlier,” your mom says it louder this time.

“Did you see me checking you out, Mom?” you ask her, staring lecherously at her big breasts.

“No,” she says.

“I couldn’t possibly check you out. It’s not something I would do,” you say.

“Not something you would do?” she asks uncertainly.

“You didn’t see me check you out earlier, right?"

She nods her head.

"It's really not something I'm capable of."

"Not capable," she whispers.

"How would you react if you saw me doing something you know I'm not capable of?"

Her brow furrows, but she doesn't answer.

You sigh. That was a pretty ambivalent statement. You decide to take a different route.

"Would I ever check out your body, Mom?"

She shakes her head. You smile.

"Why not?" You ask.

"You're not capable of checking me out," she replies matter-of-factly.

"So I can look at your body without checking it out?"

She nods.

"Does that mean I'm not doing anything wrong when I look at your body?"

Another nod.

"Even when I look at your breasts or your butt?"

She nods again without hesitation.

You smirk. Free license to ogle your busty MILF of a mother whenever you want? You'll take it.

You pause for a moment, wondering how much time you have left. You curse yourself for not having the foresight to look at the clock on the wall when Linda first fell into a trance.

“Are you happy that I was here when you fell into a trance?” you say.

“No,” she says.

You shrug. “Well, how do you feel about me being here?”

“Comfortable. Safe.”

You can work with that.

“Feeling safe is good, right?”

She nods.

“You want to feel safe,” you say.

“I want to feel safe,” Linda repeats again with no hesitance. You follow the swell of her breasts as they move up and down with her breaths.

“I make you feel safe,” you say.

“You make me feel safe.”

"I make you feel comfortable."

"You make me feel comfortable."

You smirk, enjoying the way she so willingly repeats your words back to you.

“You feel completely safe and comfortable around me.”

“I feel completely safe and comfortable around you.”

“You want to feel safe and comfortable when you’re in a trance, right Mom?” you ask.

She nods her head.

“You want to be around me when you’re hypnotized,” you say.

She blinks.

“I want to be around you when I’m hypnotized,” she says.

“You’ll be completely safe in your trance when I’m around you,” you say.

“Completely safe,” she repeats. It’s difficult to discern any expression from her blank, hypnotized face, but she almost looks relieved.

“You’ll come to me whenever you get hypnotized,” you tell her.

“I’ll come to you whenever I get hypnotized,” she says.

“If you fall into a trance when we’re not within a minute's walking distance you’ll call me on my cellphone,” you say.

“Call you…” she mumbles.

Movement from the second floor draws your eyes upward. It seems Tiffany is finishing up with Ronnie. You’re running out of time.

“If I make you comfortable, that must mean my voice makes you comfortable too, right?”

She licks her lips. Your eyes follow the progress of her wet, hot tongue as it glides across her plump blowjob lips.

She nods her head after a few moments.

“You’ll want to listen to my voice more often. Listen to what I say.”

“Listen to what you say,” she agrees.

"You feel comfortable when you listen to what I say," you say.

"I..." she hesitates.

"My voice makes you comfortable."

"Your voice makes me comfortable," she repeats.

"Listening to what I say makes you comfortable."

She swallows some of the spittle in her mouth.

"Listening to what you say makes me comfortable."

Tiffany's footsteps grow louder as she descends down the wooden staircase from the second floor. You abruptly move away from your mother and manage to sit down at the kitchen table just as your older sister enters the living room, baby in her arms.

She rocks her baby back and forth before settling him gently back in his crib.

An exasperated smile spreads across her face and she shakes her head.

"What am I going to do with you?" She mumbles. She turns away from her son and walks back into the kitchen. Her big breasts jiggle wildly as she moves. You notice two damp spots in her tank top, which conforms around her hard nipples.

"Huh," she grunts. She turns to you and you look away from her breasts. "Is Mom in a trance?"

You nod at her nervously. It's hard for you to be annoyed with her for interrupting you when she's giving you such a good show.

"She fell into one right after you left to feed Ronnie," you say.

She gazes at your mother with open curiosity. Your eyes find her wet breasts again.

"I can't this is what I look like when I'm hypnotized," she says. "She looks so..."

"Calm?" You finish for her.

She quirks a red eyebrow.

"I was gonna say 'creepy and lifeless', but calm sounds much better," she says.

"Hm, what sounds much better?" Your mother says suddenly. You glance back at her to find that her face is no longer blank and relatively emotionless. Her bright blue eyes glimmer dangerously. "And who were you calling 'creepy and lifeless'?"

"N-no one!" Tiffany stammers.

You're all interrupted by the sound of the front door opening with a low squeak.

"Jack, you really ought to put some WD-40 on those hinges!” A tall man with dirty blonde hair says as he enters the household, carrying a bottle of wine in each hand by the tips of his fingers.

“It’s in the garage,” your father grumbles as he enters right behind his son in law. “No one’s stopping you from using it.”

“Good to see you, Rick!” your mother moves to take the wine bottles from Tiffany’s husband.

“Hi Linda,” Rick smiles easily and lets your mom take the wine bottles. Tiffany approaches Rick next.

Your sister and Rick embrace and share a chaste kiss. You ignore the jealousy that gnaws at your insides. Tiffany would be yours. It’s only a matter of time.

“How’s Ronnie?” Rick asks.

Tiffany smiles. “He’s good. He got a little hungry earlier but he seems tired enough to sleep for a while.”

“Hi Rick, hi Dad,” you wave a hand at the men who’ve just gotten home. Rick glances over at you and gives you a half-hearted smile, as if you’re a guest who's overstayed his welcome and he’s too polite to ask you to leave.

Your father frowns at you and shucks off his shoes.

“Why don’t you set the table?” he says, but it comes out as more of an order than a question.

You shrug at him and rise, collecting plates, napkins, glasses, and silverware and distributing them throughout the table.

Mom announces shortly after that the pasta and sauce are complete and within moments you’re all sitting down for dinner. Everything is perfectly normal, except…

“Mom, why did you sit down next to John today? Isn’t that seat usually empty?” Tiffany gets out before she shoves a forkful of pasta in her mouth. A pinch of marinara sauce ends up on her cheek and you follow her tongue as it snakes out between her lips to dab at the sauce.

“Hm, I’m not really sure,” your mother says from right next to you. The seat that is normally over a foot away from yours is practically attached to your chair, now. Your mother’s arms and legs periodically touch yours as she eats. You were about to call her out on it at one point during the dinner, but then she’d smiled at you warmly, as if merely being near you made her feel good. It certainly made you feel good once you realized that her position afforded you the opportunity to surreptitiously glance down at your mother’s breasts. Her v-neck sweater does little to hide her generous cleavage at this angle and it’s almost mesmerizing how her breasts jiggle and sway as she moves.

“One thing’s for sure, this chair is a lot more comfortable than my usual seat,” she says. “I think I’ll be sitting next to John from now on.”

You glance over at her. She can’t really mean that. All of the chairs at the table are identical; made out of the same wood finish as the table. Unless… unless when you told your hypnotized mother that you made her comfortable that she somehow adopted that into her subconscious to such a degree that it became her truth. Your dick twitches.

Your father grunts from the head of the table, glancing at the seat immediately to his left which is now empty.

“That’s cool, Mom,” you say, unable to hide the smirk on your face. “You should do whatever makes you comfortable.”

Your mother smiles brightly at you and leans over to kiss your cheek. Your right arm gets pushed between her big breasts.

“You’re such a sweet boy,” she says, withdrawing a little to concentrate on her meal.

It’s only then that you notice that everyone at the table is giving the two of you odd looks. You raise your eyebrows at them and take a generous sip of your wine.

Dinner is a quiet affair for the rest of the evening. You rise before everyone else to collect all the dishes, as usual. You place them in the sink and start to scrub one of them when a pair of smooth pale arms wrap around your waist.

“Uh… Mom, what are you doing?” you glance to the side at your mother. She has a contented smile on her face as she looks up at you from her hug. Her huge tits are squished outwards against the side of your chest.

“I don’t really know,” she says. “I just... I can’t believe I never realized how much I like being around you. Can I… can I just stay here for a while, with you?”

“S-sure,” you say. You stare at her breasts and then her face. She isn’t showing any reaction to you checking her out so obviously.

“Wow,” you whisper to yourself. The usual monotony of cleaning dishes is absent and before long there’s nothing left in the sink to clean.

Your mother disentangles herself from you reluctantly and glances over into the living room, where the rest of the family has gathered to watch television.

“Are you going to watch a movie with us, John?” your mother asks.

You bite your lip. You can well imagine the likelihood of your mother using you as a plush pillow throughout the duration of the movie thanks to her post-hypnotic suggestions, but you don’t want to weird out the rest of your family any more than you already have. Even now Tiffany and your father are glancing at the two of you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Nah, I think I’m gonna turn in early,” you say.

Your mother frowns in disappointment.

“Okay,” she says. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” you tell her. You quickly make your way upstairs as the sound of a disk being inserted into the family Blu-ray player reaches your ears.

You enter your room much happier and more satisfied than you left it.

A series of knocks rouses you from your slumber.

“What the hell…” you grumble as you sluggishly disentangle yourself from the warm softness of your sheets.

You glance over at your clock. 3:27 am.

You make your way over to your door.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“It’s Mom,” a feminine voice says from the other side of the door.

Your eyebrows shoot up.

“What’s up?” you say, trying to ignore the way your hardening cock stretches the material of your underwear.

“I’m hypnotized,” the voice answers. “Can I come in?”