The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Geeze, what the fuck are we gonna do, Stevie?”

“I dunno. I can’t think. This is so freaky. You sure they’re OK?”

Billy looks over at the couch; his mom is at one end, Stevie’s at the other. The party decorations are still up, but the scotch tape holding the “Happy 16th Birthdays” sign is starting to fail, the balloons are deflating and no longer cling to the ceiling, the cake is all eaten, the guests gone home, and the moans of the women mix with the sounds of the dishwasher in the other room.

Stevie’s mom Susan gives a brief deep gasp and cries out with a series of short barks as she orgasms. Her eyes still closed, her blouse has come undone as one of her hands caresses her substantial right breast while her other is thrust down her unbuttoned jeans, her hand cupping but no longer frigging her wet cunt; her breathing slowly returning to normal. Several strands of her long blond hair fall carelessly across her face, she takes her hand out of her pants and tries to brush it away, but the sticky discharge on her fingers pastes it to her cheeks instead. Not noticing the hand returns to her sex, middle finger playfully inserting itself and wiggling around. At the other end of the couch Billy’s mother Debbie has the same vacant look—a thousand-yard stare with no response from either boy when they called her name earlier. She too has been masturbating through her clothing, but unlike Susan hasn’t managed to undo any fasteners or zippers, but wearing a dress with a scoop-necked top, it hadn’t been necessary. Billy glances between her spread legs up her lifted skirt at the tight and very wet panties that improbably remain between her clit and her fingers. He can’t help but get hard. “It’s so wrong,” he thinks, looking closer at the dancing digits which seem to have found her clit beneath the damp-stained cotton.

“Oh! YesYesYesYes! Yessssssssss!,” Debbie cries out.

“Looks to me like they’re having a pretty good time.”

The Smart TV has the flash drive still inserted, the video still on the last frame of their new “father” broadly grinning out at the room, as though he could see everything.

Having caught her breath, Susan slowly starts fondling herself again, calling out for “Derrick” under her breath.

“C’mon to the kitchen. I can’t think here. We need to figure this out, and they’ll be back to normal, soon, I hope. He said an hour and a half. We’ll have to call an ambulance if it doesn’t stop by then.”

“Man, your mom is so juicy. I just gotta say it.”

“Yours too. C’mon.”

The boys sit at the kitchen table; the dishwasher is loud, drowning out the noises from the other room.

“I don’t know if I like the idea of my mom being your fuck-toy. You know, half-brother or not. No offense.”

“I hear you.”

The flash drive had arrived at the end of the party by courier—some special delivery service that would come at a particular time, even ten o’clock on a Saturday night. The guy had insisted that he give it into Debbie’s hands personally which was no trouble really, and when she accepted it, he said a single word to her, which caused her to open her eyes wide and then nod as she signed the tablet accepting delivery. With the drive was two small gift-wrapped presents, each with one if the boys name on a small white card; these she set aside.

It hadn’t been a huge party, about a dozen of Stevie and Billy’s classmates, mostly boys but a few girls from Stevie’s drama class, and with the two moms chaperoning the teens hadn’t stuck around much past cake, with the invitation to the boys to come join them for a real party at the reservoir later if they could slip away. Billy had been talking to a pretty little blonde named Nancy and was sure she’d be there, so hustled to get everything cleaned up as things were winding down, and was disappointed when after the last guest left his mom, Debbie, called them all into the living room to watch a video that had come on the flash drive. Susan was annoyed to be diverted from the cleaning—the party was held at her half the duplex and Debbie never seemed to pitch in when there was work to be done, though she and Billy lived right next to them in the other half of the building. But Debbie was intensely insistent, not even letting Susan stand at the back of the room and putter with cleaning as it was played, she demanded Susan sit on the couch with her and watch with full attention. Stevie sat on the matching recliner, while Billy had his ass on a kitchen chair brought out to the living room for the party.

After some fumbling with inserting the drive into the Smart TV’s USB port, then using the remote control, finding source input, and then apps and the drive were selected. The flash drive contained a single video file. Stevie pressed “Play”.

A man appeared on the screen, middle-aged, a bit bald, or at least thinning on top, glasses, in a suit and tie sitting on a brown leather chair in what looks like a pretty comfortable library. “Hello William. Hello Steven. I’m your father. My name is Derrick.” He then lifts his hand up to the microphone clipped to his lapel, a ring with a dark metal bulge and inset orange and purple stones is on his pointer finger, and as he rubs it with his other pointer it starts to hum. “Hello Debra and Susan. Remember.”

“Mom, wha...?” Stevie asks, but Susan doesn’t answer, she stares straight ahead, slack jawed and unmoving. The boys look over at Debbie, and she’s the same.

“Don’t worry boys, they’re just getting some gaps in their memories filled back in. It’ll take a bit less than an hour and a half, and I have some things I want to tell you two,” the man says. “Everything is good.”

Debbie’s aware that she’s sitting in Susan’s living room, looking at a very familiar face on the screen; it’s that arrogant creep Derrick from University. But that was a long time ago—he looks older and has a pencil thin mustache. She blinks once and dreamlike, her mind drifts back to the end of the last century. The memory is so real she visualized it in detail, but it’s unreal too, like getting lost in a good movie. Then she reaches down and gently cups then squeezes her tits together, making them rub against each other under her top. It feels so good. And she remembers.

Debbie’s mind’s eye sees the first time she saw Derrick, back at the resident’s committee meeting for student housing at the university where she and her husband had a fairly nice apartment in the married student’s residence. It had taken three year on the wait list, and she had already got her BA in journalism while Fred was working on his masters. But for the next two years they had an excellent sixth floor suite in an area where there were perpetual shortages of affordable housing. And here was this teenager who wanted in with no waiting, and not even being married. And the administration was going along with it because he was some kind of high-profile science genius. But there was push back from the student reps who had all waited several years for their scarce digs. So a meeting was called, and Debbie was assigned to cover it for the student newspaper. The headline of her article the next day was “Teenage Science Genius Throws Temper Tantrum”, and the article itself was far less complementary. Derrick had a total meltdown when he was told that he had to wait like everyone else and it’d help if he had a life partner. It was as if no one had ever said “No” to him before. And she mockingly detailed every bit of it in print in the campus wide student paper, her friend Susan, one of the student reps, had it all on tape; Debbie had been given a copy. Everything she wrote was true but slanted to make Derrick look like a spoiled infant.

The day the article came out was the second time she saw Derrick in the flesh. In the quad he walked right up to her. “Debbie. I’m Derrick. I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Please leave. I’ll call campus security.”

“I want to talk to you. You want to listen. Don’t talk until I tell you that you may.”

“Mrffff”

Debbie became aware of this buzzing sound in the distance, how long had it been going on? She looked at Derrick from top to bottom and back again. He seemed to be doing something with his hands, rubbing a ring, which was what was making the strange sound.

“Relax, don’t worry, everything is going to be alright. Believe me. Relax and don’t worry.”

Immediately all the tension went out of her body. Everything was going to be alright. She wasn’t worried at all.

“Let’s go have a look at your precious apartment, lead the way. You can talk now, but only in a calm, conversational tone.”

“What’s going on? Are you going to hurt me?”

“I’m going to tell you some things, and you are going to believe me. I’m not going to hurt you, but you may be a bit sore afterwards.”

“You’re going to rape me.”

“No, not at all. We are going to fuck though, by mutual consent, and probably for most of the afternoon. Do you have any other fixed plans? When will your hubby be home?”

“Never!”

“Hush.” That buzzing again. “Answer the questions.”

“No plans. Head to the newspaper office maybe. And Fred is monitoring an experiment, he won’t be in before his replacement comes at 4am.”

“Lucky us. You a good cook?”

When they reached the residence building’s side entrance, who do you think was exiting, her hands full of books and not watching where she was going? If you guessed Susan take a gold star and sprinkles—that was how Debbie remembered it.

Stevie reads what Billy’d written on the laptop, “PREAMBLE: One score less four years ago, our father brought forth his dick and made two superior bros who were raised with love and affection by two hot MILFs, and having reached an age where their johnsons are bigger than their brains said dad saw fit to give a totally rad gift to his neglected but studly sons of turning said MILFS into their personal fuck-bunnies.

Billy and Stevie being super-smart dudes, grock totally that the suggested option of ignoring the gift and going on as if nothing had happened is like, totally unrealistic, and being a couple of horny teenagers any promises to just ignore the totally fuckable and willing pussy parading around would be bogus. But, like, we love our moms, so we are setting forth some agreements so Billy can boff Susan to the heights of the screamingest mindroastingly intense cums without Stevie totally freaking. And the same for Billy when Stevie’s doing Debbie, his noble rod getting all hot and sticky with her dripping love-juice.

Also, Billy and Stevie have to go to school and get better grades than last year, or they won’t get their next birthday present from Daddy Derrick, which he promises is even more awesome.

Susan and Debbie have other things to do, Susan has to keep doing good at her real estate job and Debbie should keep working on her novel or the other writing jobs that pay the bills, and Billy and Stevie will not mess that up. So we agree not to turn us or them into total fuck slugs, and that we four will have real lives and not just spend all day greasing the pole.

And that either of us guys can call bullshit and the other will not just blow them off.

So this contract which can only be changed by both of us is to get us through the next year, until our 17th birthdays. What is written below is what we cop to.”

When Stevie comes to the end of what was written, he says, “Cool Billy. We should put in something about not letting anyone else know.”

“Yeah, that’s good. What else?”

“Three laws of Robotics”

“They aren’t robots.”

“Yeah but the do no harm and not hurt herself stuff would be good. What else is there to them? Google it.”

The video started with Derrick telling the boys about how he first realized that he was a genius, then moved on to how he came to copulate with and impregnate their mothers. The genius status realization wasn’t just him reading before kindergarten, but happened really not much later. While still in elementary school was given a copy of Steven Hawking’s Brief History of Time and he found that with the help of some science websites he could follow along. Maybe not understanding everything, but that started his love of physics, and his classmates at the most advanced were reading Hardy Boys. But he was small for his age, and not very well socialized. He’d been sent to school where all the kids were older, some by as much as two years, and it didn’t go well. His classmates didn’t know what to make of him and at worst some treated him like a freak. His brightness had certainly been noticed, but his folks weren’t up to paying for a private school, but when he got past elementary there were grants and awards and free tuition offers, and from then on he was a pampered child-genius who’s insights into the physics of micro-acoustics had already paid off in a couple of lucrative patents for engineers who understood how to apply his theories, both of which he was part owner. But he couldn’t access any money they made until he was 21 because of the way the trust was set up to take his fees. In any case he never paid that much attention to money; if he needed it someone would always step up and give it to him. Up until that day he didn’t pay much attention to things like money, or where he lived, or his body; he accepted he needed to do a certain amount of exercise, but never pushed it beyond the minimum.

So why did the super-smart rich kid freak out? He hadn’t meant to. He knew it was stupid as it was happening. He just couldn’t control himself. His emotional dike, which he’d held in the raging waters of desire and ambition ran up against the flood of teenage hormones, and the dam burst. In public at the worst time. Even when he’d been tormented by the bigger kids in public school he’d never reacted this way, he’d held it in and just worked on getting educated even harder.

And the faculty had been watching him at the meeting. He wasn’t in trouble, in fact an hour later one of the Uni’s biggest non-sports benefactors picked him up in a limo and took him to an apartment building just south of the campus, up to a penthouse that overlooked the city’s downtown with a spectacular view from the balcony. It was going to be his as long as he was at the school—rent free. Later he found out that several projects and the millions of dollars of grants that went with them depended on his participation. Someone had started paying attention. At last, ironically the day after he’d solved the problem of always getting what he wanted from anyone.

“Spelling question. ‘Asshole’. One word? Ass space hole? Hyphen?”

“Google it.”

“This is mom’s laptop and she has safe search on. I don’t know the password... Hey! Don’t look at me like that! It’s a work thing, it’s not like she’s worried I’d do a search on “tits” or anything.”

“Yeah, right. So why do you have the parental lock on your TV too?”

“Do Not!”

“Hah! Gotcha! One word.”

Susan’s memories began with her pushing the bar that opened the east door of the apartment building with her hip, her arms full of books going back to the library. Like Debbie she’d completed her degree the year before and had a husband in grad school. She took a couple of courses, but mostly had a relaxed view of life, she knew once kids came that it’d never be like this again. So she went most days to the library and picked up the seemingly endless books that her man consumed like a starving tiger in a cage stuffed full of overfed guinea pigs.

She heard this low buzzing, and having gathered the books more comfortably, looked up to find Derrick and Debbie right in front of her.

She started to speak. “Hush,” Derrick said softly, and she closed her mouth. She started to dart away. “Hold,” said Derrick more forcefully and she stopped.

“Relax, don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright. How lucky we are to run into you. I want to apologize for my behavior, I was an ass. Forgive me.”

Susan found herself completely and honestly forgiving him. So did Debbie, she knew what they had done was mean, she hadn’t looked at him as a human being and figured out why he had acted as he did, or even asked for his side of the story, just someone she could mock in print. It was wrong, if it hadn’t been put in the paper at the last minute, or the editor was more careful it’d never been run.

“I forgive you. It wasn’t fair what I did either. I’m sorry too.”

“Great. I forgive you too. Let’s the three of us go have some make-up sex. Come on along.” With that he held the door as Debbie entered, Susan, shocked look on her face, books still filling her arms went next, and then they headed to the elevator and the empty apartment that Derrick had been denied.

It was basically furnished, solid but cheap, waiting for the next couple to move in, a bare living room, but the kitchen had a solid yet well used table and chair set, which is where he led the girls. As they sat and listened to him, he explained while rubbing his ring, which buzzed away softly in the background, “OK, now we are all friends, I want you to hear and believe what I have to tell you as to why you are going to fuck my brains out today. First, is “Sue” OK or do you prefer “Susan”?”

“Susan. Sue was my mother.”

“Right, so Susan, Debbie, you know you did me wrong and want to make it up to me. And you know that the University is depending on me being here for at least as long as it takes for me to get my PHD, and could make things very hard for you and your men, not the least of which is getting kicked out of this building. Maybe off all campus housing. That would be really bad, wouldn’t it?” Derrick looked pointedly directly in Susan’s eyes and waited for a response.

“That would be terrible. We might not be able to finish Frank’s degree if we lost our apartment.”

“And I might sue. Do you have a lot of money?”

Both women shake their heads.

“And you both really like to have sex, right. You’re young, healthy and stone cold foxy. You believe a fuck is natural, free, and fun. So what harm is it if you atone for your misdeeds by giving your bodies to me for a few hours, as long as in return I promise not to screw up your lives. Which I obviously can do.” Derrick held up one hand in an oath gesture and put the other one over his heart, “and I promise not to screw up your lives. There. In fact you believe that being at my beck and call’ll be a lot of fun and that you’re getting off for your sins lightly, Don’t worry, you’ll also be getting off in a different way very soon.”

“I behaved badly because I wasn’t getting any, didn’t even know how to approach a woman, but that can be cured by giving my body the action it’s craving that I’ve neglected. And I’ve chosen you two as my helpers, if I can blow out the pipes, so to speak, I can probably get back to my work with a clearer head, so you’ll be doing good for all mankind by helping me finish my grand theory as support staff supporting my staff.”

“So believe this. Agree that it’s a win-win for all of us. Let it excite you. Are your nipples hard? They should be.” Susan, even in her dream state memory feels it as he pinches her tits through her bra, though back on the couch it’s her own hands recreating the scene. “You can signal your consent Debbie by getting naked, here, now. Slowly, make it a real good striptease. And with each piece of clothing you remove, you’re going to find yourself getting hotter and wetter in anticipation of the great fucking to come.” Bzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Susan watches as Debbie stands and takes off her blouse. Despite Derrick’s reassurances, she’s still got a thread of fear at what might happen next. She’s sure it’s her turn and now she wants to do it right, to pay Derrick back for the humiliation he had to endure—probably he will be facing people who read the article all through his time here at the school. She feels bad at the thought, if there was only something she could do. Then he suggests the perfect solution, “Why don’t you crawl under the table and give me a blowjob Susan? Make it as good as you can. You know my dick tastes delicious and you can’t get over how much just touching it with the back of your throat turns you on. Do your best to take it all down.”

Susan remembers thinking “How thoughtful” as she walked to the library later as Derrick had sent her on her way with enough time to do her chores before Frank finished his last class. Debbie was still with him, last time Susan saw her they had moved down to Debbie’s kitchen and Derrick was using a cucumber, a big fat one, on Debbie in ways that the Green Giant had never intended—thank God for mayonnaise. As it was Monday night, she’d been told to head back down and rejoin them once the football game was on, Frank would be lost as usual in it, this is when she normally went out and visited similar MNF widows in the res so wouldn’t be missed. She’d never made love with another girl before, but a recovering Derrick wanted to see it, so she’d eaten cunt for the first time, sloppy with Derrick’s jizz, so that wasn’t really lesbian was it, if a man was involved somewhere. She’d sure liked it when Debbie returned the favor, she had to admit. Derrick told them they’d love it, so they did.

At the thought of sucking and kissing and nibbling on Debbie’s honey-pit Susan pushed her head back on the sofa cushion and stuck her tongue way out and moved it side to side and started making her lips pucker in and out. Debbie, who’d spent more time with Derrick that day and had more to remember, did the same about five minutes later. It’s too bad the boys were in the kitchen by this point; they’d have found it “totally hot”.

After that day Susan remembered Derrick visiting her or both her and Debbie about once a week. Usually at his apartment, which was far nicer than the one he’d been rejected for, she thought. The Uni should have offered that to him first and none of this would have happened. Cheapskates! Debbie told her that he’d sent for her a few times too. Sex with Derrick was kind of like doing laundry, something that happened regularly that couldn’t be ignored, and Derrick was right, it was often pretty fun, or at least more fun than sorting whites from colors.

Then, almost two months after that fateful day, Susan said to Derrick, “You promised not to fuck up our lives.”

“I did.”

“Well I’m pregnant.”

“Your husband?”

“We use condoms. I didn’t start taking other precautions until after our first day.”

“Shit. I’m going to make this right. I suppose...?”

“I don’t believe in abortion. I guess you could make me...”

“No. Let me think on this. Call Debbie and have her come by.”

Further disturbing news came as Debbie also said that she suspected that she was knocked-up too. But by then Derrick had a plan.

“This is sooner than I intended, but our time together is mostly over. I’ve had some education in the last while about how to be a real human. I hadn’t thought it out when we first met, but you aren’t my only helpers and sex isn’t the only lesson. I’m learning all the things about being a social animal I didn’t even think I didn’t know. I was so buried in my studies that I wasn’t looking at the big picture. I have too much power not to be careful and I really want to not do the wrong thing.”

“Like turning us into your personal masturbation units?” Debbie asks.

“No, you totally deserved it, didn’t you,” he says sternly.

“Yes, we totally deserved it.” was returned by the women in a not fully convincing monotone. Yet Derrick was pleased that he didn’t need his device with these two anymore.

“This is what we are going to do. I’m mostly out of your lives from now on, I may visit you for the occasional tryst to help out with your payback to me, but mostly you’ll go on with your lives however they turn out. I was right, getting regular sex has cleared my mind, and I don’t need it as badly or as often as I did when we first met. So making your payback my physical relief was totally successful. I believe you should feel proud of that.” Which they then did. “I’ll visit your guys, they’ll be convinced that whatever the kids turn out to be, they are theirs. Mostly you’ll think that too, you’ll forget about me when I’m not around, and all that we’ve done. I’ll keep tabs on you and if you or your kids, our kids, ever need something I’ll take care of it, behind the scenes and not part of your day-to-day lives. I’ll put aside a trust for their education too, from your crazy estranged Uncle Al, if anyone asks.”

“Does that mean I’ll forget 69ing with Susan? Forget all our making out? Susy, I’m really going to miss that,” Debbie sobs, taking Susan’s hands in hers, then leaning over to give her a quick kiss.

“Yep, you’ll still be really close friends, and always feel strongly connected to her, but if you want to get squishy when I’m not around, you’ll have to find your way there all on your own.”

Derrick pauses, then claps his hands, “So who’s up for a goodbye three-way! I am! Warm each other up to start while I go clean up the bedroom a bit.”

Debbie thought while Susan’s lips met hers again for the third time in a series of deeply passionate French kisses, “Clean up the bedroom? Maybe there is something to these “real human” lessons.”

Billy looks up from the laptop. “Do you think we should have a spanking clause?”

“Dude. Are you tripping? Natch to a spanking clause! And a spanking the monkey clause.”

Both boys start to giggle.

On the video Derrick talks about what he did for fun when growing up. Hated sports, didn’t make friends easily, he got into building models. His parents seemed so much more relaxed if he didn’t work all the time, and he was becoming acutely aware of not being “normal”. It started with those cheap ones of airplanes or cars, but never one do to things by half measure pretty soon he was designing his own, and when he added the lathe to his “toy” workshop he was making things in wood and metal from his own plans. He liked doing old planes, ones where there was no existing production drawings for, just photos, and build in miniature with the complete inner frame deduced from ancient scraps of information.

Even then he wasn’t totally not working. One day he had an insight—he tells no details on the video—and put the micro-acoustics together with the skills he’d learned as a modeler and fabricator of small exact machines to build a tiny device that makes people absolutely believe him and do what he says. Small enough to be carried around and maybe even worn as a piece of jewelry. Like a ring.

The boys look at each other with this news, they may not be geniuses like Derrick, behind the teenage ’tude they are pretty smart, and had noticed the ring and the buzz and mostly had noticed the pair of panting and moaning women across the room one or the other of them crying out in glorious orgasm every few minutes.

The annoying part was Derrick only just completed the device the day before the committee meeting, hadn’t tested it enough to be confident it’d work, and in part his disastrous reaction to the rejection was kicking himself for not trying it that day.

Six months earlier, at age 19½ or so adolescence, puberty, and enough hormones for four young billy-goats in a herd of a hundred nannies in heat hit him. It was distracting from the important work he was doing. He’d thought about professional help, but the ads in the back of that newspaper looked distinctively unhealthy or unnaturally cheery. So his plan was go live where there’s lots of fresh-scrubbed young and available female flesh—a married students residence puts pretty much one girl in every suite, many unburdened by kids or classes with mostly absent school-work burdened hubbies running the academic treadmill—and with a place there he’d just use his device when he felt distracted by his dick, then get back to the lab. He honestly felt this plan was ultimately for the good of science. But where he ended up living wasn’t half bad either, he now admits.

Stevie and Billy’s friends had arrived at the place near the reservoir where teens hung out. No one had been able to get any beer, but Dan managed to buy a pack of those port-tipped cigarillos, which were shared around, turning several of the inexperienced smokers an interesting shade of green. Someone said that the boys’ll never get away, their moms were too tight-assed and treated them like little kids. Lucy hoped not, she wanted to give Stevie a special birthday present, but wasn’t quite sure exactly what it would be. Nancy a slightly chubby but very cute blonde, and who Billy had a very visible crush on was flirting with Joey, half the guys in the school were dying to take her out, and she knew it. But she’d decided to maybe do some necking with Billy on his birthday, if he ever showed up. Maybe even let him feel her up. She was very proud of her still-growing full round breasts, and was eager to show them off.

On tape, Derrick explained all about getting Susan and Debbie pregnant, and how the smartest people sometimes made stupid mistakes, he hadn’t even thought about the possibility until it was too late. He mentioned the presents that came with the flash drive, Stevie sees them on the table and he and Billy tear the gift wrapping off to find a large box of condoms each.

Derrick said, “I know I’m not the greatest of fathers, Frank and Fred both really did all the hard work...” a snort comes from the otherwise occupied with shoving-two-fingers-up-her-ass-as-far-as-they-could-go-and-wiggling-them-around Debbie that sounds like an “as if” retort... " But smart people admit when they are on the wrong path, analyze and adjust based on constantly learning on all levels.”

“Let me tell you about Mr. Pantinko—that’s the guy Pantinko Plastics is named after. He was a great guy, the patron of the science department of the university, and was the one who along with his incredibly beautiful much younger wife Angela, she has milk white skin and coal black hair that hangs down past her slender waist—he was in his sixties, she’d maybe hit 30—well they picked me up after the incident at the meeting when I was incredibly upset and calmed me down—face it I’d lost control and was sobbing like a baby in public, maybe the second most humiliating moment of my life. And without being judgmental—ever—Mr. P as I called him took me under his wing, not just then, but we were close until the day he died. He had all the toys full-size at his factory and loved playing with them, as did I. It was like the modeling, but life size. I got another dozen patents out of that, and Mr. P handled all the details, and on review after he passed, he was totally and completely fair to me taking only the standard filing fee and cost of the lawyer and a 10% agents fee, when he could have abused my trust to the tune of millions of dollars, as one of my lawyers pointed out. But Angela and I were even closer.”

“The day after my meltdown which was four days before the shaming newspaper article was printed and five before I started boffing Susan and Debbie, knocking them up, Mr. and Mrs. Pantinko had me over for lunch, and he said something really profound that took a while to sink in. “Take a look at yourself in a mirror every day, what do you see? Do you see a happy functioning human being? Are you forgetting to grease the wheels because that doesn’t seem important? How can you do your best work if you are being blind-sided by your own body? How can you think great thoughts if you don’t know what tigers are lurking in your mind’s jungle?”

“I kind of knew what he was saying. Just because I’d never had an emotional reaction like the day before didn’t mean it couldn’t happen again. I had become acutely aware in the last 24 hours how much I’d missed buried in books and models and thinking about micro-acoustics. I’d come to lunch with a plan, but now felt bad about it. Yet my first reaction was to continue with my scheme, so to pay for my share of what I was going to take I wrote out a quick formula on a napkin and handed it to Mr. P. and said, “Thank you. I understand what you’re saying.”

“He read what I had written and got it at once, “This—well this is amazing. If we do this we can cut our production time by a third for the next generation of glass/plastic hybrid products. It’s a million dollar idea! Is it patented? How much do you want for it?”

“I wasn’t confident that the unusual arrangement I was going to propose would be easily accepted, so I placed my hands on the table and started using my device where the two of them could hear, “I want you to agree to my proposal. I want a couple of days of Angela’s time—you’ll be too busy retooling based on that formula anyway. And I want some more of her attention later, we’ll work it out. Is that acceptable? Mr. Pantinko looked over at Angela and said “Only if it’s OK with her.”

“I turned to her and said, “I need to learn to be a real person. I know I need a teacher. I’m not saying we aren’t going to get physically intimate, you’re just too damn stunning to ignore that, and ignoring my baser needs is part of how I found myself in such a state, but I really want you to think of it as your contribution to my development, just like your husband is paying for my apartment. I want you to do more than teach me how to make love to a beautiful woman, I want you to look at me and fix the things that seem to be broken, to broaden my social skills and make me comfortable outside the lab. Can you do that? Will you do that?”

“By using the device I guaranteed the result I wanted, but still I waited with my breath held in while she processed it all, thinking through the details. She asked, “You’re not taking me from David here, indicating Mr. P.” “No” I replied. “Intensely for the next two days before the lab is ready, then maybe once a week or so for an evening. You can pick the time on most occasions.”

“Then yes. On a trial basis. One month,” she said.”

“Mr. P was squirming in his seat, and I asked what was wrong. Like a six year old asking permission to leave the dinner table, he requested to be allowed to go to his factory right away and start retooling. Then he departed, leaving me an Angela alone.”

“The real love of his life is that factory, you know. You obviously didn’t have to give him that...formula? Thank you for that, but it feels like you put a price on me,” She said to me, “Do you want to explain why I’m agreeing with this? And what “this” is?” and I replied, “Formula, yes. Not a price but a mark of respect, I like your husband and he was good to me when I needed it the most. If it works—I haven’t tested it yet, it’s just a good possibility, but it may be worth about what my other patents are, a half-million a year. Maybe less, maybe more. It’s still a bargain to purchase a few hours of your time, you are worth so much more.” I moved in closer to her, “You’re agreeing because you see I need this. And because it’s obvious that you are a very skilled lover. You’re what, wife number two...", “Three or four, depending on how you count remarries.", she said. I went on, “Let me tell you how I see it. As a beautiful young bride of a rich old man, a very good rich old man, who knows that he could find and marry, or even just keep as mistresses many fine women of beauty, brains, personality, innocent lambs to jaded flowers depending on his mood, but he is no longer a teenager, and for his aging years, he’s what late ‘60s”, “67”, “Anyway he chose you. Why? Well I know you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. But my experiences with women in general are limited. But Mr. Pantinko has to see much more than beauty in you, I sense it. I know I need someone to help me with this, and you are the perfect candidate. But I really do want to make love to you. I’m so full of sperm I’m bursting. Will you please fuck me?”

“Yes,” she said.”

“Then we stood there and looked at each other, neither moving. “Well?” she said. I awkwardly moved towards her and tentatively kissed her on the lips. “Don’t take this wrong,” she said, “But you’re a virgin, aren’t you?” I had to admit to it. “Do you masturbate much?” I told her that I’d tried it, but if all I could think of in the lab was sex, and all I could think of when trying to get myself off was micro-acoustic physics. She laughed like I had said something clever. It was wonderful.”

“She looked at me with a critical eye, “When was your last bath or shower?” “This morning.” “Do you use any of those stinky aftershaves or body washes?” “Every lab I’ve been in bans those. So never got the habit.”

“Why don’t we start with me making suggestions and then when you have an idea what you want to do, take over,” she proposed and I agreed. ”Come over here and undress me. Look closely at each piece of clothing as you remove it. Closely means 4 to 6 inches. Be slow and gentle.”

“That was the start of my time with Angela. I guess she’d made up her mind that being my mentor and fuck buddy was worth doing, because she never mentioned the “Trial Basis” again. It really wasn’t all about sex, sometimes I’d be her escort to plays and the symphony, and particularly to the opera, Mr. P hated opera but she loved it, and she could rightly fit in with her obligation to stuff some culture me. She always came out of those shows real happy, even if the cast had just all been bleeding to death and singing really loudly just minutes before. It was like she was high—we tried pot once but didn’t like it—but high from the music. Whenever we returned to my place afterwards, she had us both stripped and fucking by the time I’d finished keying in the security code. Totally turned on by Turendot. Wagner warrants wetness. Violently violated by Verdi. Carmen caused the creaming of Angela’s cunt.”

“Later, years later, she told me that Mr. P and her had a fairly in-depth contract of an open marriage, he had at least one long term mistress that predated their union, and that he’d actually asked Angela to take me under her wing, so to speak. What I wanted was a much larger scope than Mr. P’s original request, which he’d hinted at in that advice to me where he mentioned the mirror; what he said to her was “Anj, make a man of him.” But I think I received many times more out of it by using my device that day than the simple fuck that Mr. P and Angela had decided on before I was to lunch with them. Mr. P was never jealous, he’d say, “I know who my wife’s lover is, no sneaking around, I like him, and trust him to always send her home satisfied. Who could ask for more?” Then he’d cackle and say with a wink, “I bet you’re not the only boy-toy with the opera ladies.”

“The operas and our other ‘culture dates’ were later though. I’d just spent my first glorious two days with Angela, and was heading in to check on the final installation of some equipment, the lab would open the next week, when I saw the student paper on a rack, and picked it up to read as I walked across the quad. And there was that article, no picture, but suddenly I felt like every student out there was staring and some even pointing at me and saying “That’s the guy. In the paper. The big baby!” I had to get out of there; I scurried back to my apartment and started shaking. Somewhere along the line this turned to anger. The last two days had been special, the best of my life, I had a total teenage crush on Angela—well a year too late to be teenage, but I was emotionally immature—and the fact that we had spent two days periodically being extremely intimate, and this just spoiled everything. I also realized that this mood swing was similar to how I felt at the meeting, so instead of going out and shooting the place up or making a big public scene—again—I’d force myself to sit and think until the mood passed. What I thought about was revenge, but against who? The committee? The administration? The newspaper? The reporter, she has to have been the girl at the back of the room taking notes that day. Pretty. Debbie something, I couldn’t bear even having the article in my apartment, I’d burned the paper in the incinerator. It was so cruel. And by the next day after a sleepless night of wild plans, I decided that simple was best. I wanted a backup if Angela didn’t work out, and someone to fuck whenever I wanted, I saw Debbie as the latter. Having Susan join us that day was just dumb luck. They were my fuck-buddies until I found out I made a big mistake when they were both proven to be very fertile women. You boys are the result of our very first fuck, me and your moms.”

“I’ve been watching you two for your entire lives, but I kept my promise to Susan and Debbie, and let you grow up with full-time dads, well at least until Debbie’s hubbie Fred left for that student he’d been “mentoring” and when Susan’s Frank died—Stevie, he really was a good guy and your real dad in a lot of ways, never forget it—I bought the duplex you now live in and went to see Susan again—I’ve visited them a few times over the years for old times’ sake, thought they don’t remember—well they’ll remember everything now, that’s what they will doing for about the next 45 minutes or so...” On screen Derrick glances at his watch. “After we had a great strenuous fuck, wore me out—she hadn’t been with another guy since Frank passed and was a tigress in the sack, horny but too shy by nature to find a lover and lonely too—I suggested to Susan she buy this place at a real discount—just a dollar, and invite Debbie to share the other unit. While she didn’t remember me the next day, she did as I suggested, and you two got to be neighbors and best buddies. I’m proud of you; you are so much less crazy than I was at your age. So I have a very special gift for you. I visited Susan and Debbie a while back and gave them some new instructions.”

“Having Angela was the smartest thing I’ve ever done. When Mr. P died five years ago I asked her—and I used no compulsion at all—if she’d marry me, and she said yes. I think that was the happiest day of my life and always will be even if I win the Nobel prize, which I have a real shot at once I publish my unified theory, still polishing, almost complete, two more years to publishing. Cross fingers.”

“Stevie, from now on Debbie will happily, without complaining or griping, and with enthusiasm follow any orders you give her. And Billy, same goes for you and Susan. Ask them for twenty bucks they’ll give it to you. Ask for a blowjob, and they’ll do that too. Don’t hurt them and if you go too far, well I’ll be monitoring and you could lose this ability. But like I had Angela and to some extent Susan and Debbie, I think it’s time for you to be given man-toys.”

“Whoa,” Stevie says.

“I have something even better in mind for your 17th and 18th birthdays. But you need to get your grades up at school with no cheating if you want them. That means self-discipline.”

“Of course you can ignore your ability to command these MILFs, and go on with your lives as normal, just ask them to forget my orders. I won’t be insulted because you reject my gifts; it’s up to you to figure it out. Just don’t do anything you can’t undo right away. In any case, flesh of my flesh, my sons, you are in my heart, and we’ll meet someday, I promise. You have about 40 minutes to figure out what you are going to say to those women. I honestly think I made them better—less arrogant and kinder—by fucking the hell out of them and even by knocking them up, though I don’t recommend you do that—for now. Up to you though. Think it through, I wish I had, though I have no regrets about you two—I’ve been careful since and you are my only kids. Angela can’t.” Derrick pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues, “I have a few other things to tell you about these ladies...”

Shortly after that the video ended and Stevie and Billy went to talk in the kitchen, where Stevie has the idea to work out what they want to do on paper, so they start writing out a contract between them about how to deal with what will happen. Then they throw it all out and start again. And they are half way through the third version when Susan and Debbie, completely disheveled cautiously walk into the kitchen.

Susan quietly says, “Boys?” She’s still unbuttoned across her top, but has pulled her blouse together and tucked its bottom into the waist of her dress to hold it in place. Her hair, usually rigidly permed in blonde curls is scattered randomly across her head. Debbie’s less dressed, she has one breast hanging free and has lost her skirt, but still has her panties on and stray red pubic hairs creep out from under the edges, a damp stain visible across the lower part. Both smell strongly of sweat, female arousal and release.

“We need to talk about this,” she continues.

Billy says, “Susan. I’m going to call you Susan now, ok”

She shakes a bit and says, “OK.”

“Susan, go upstairs and have a shower, get clean and make yourself pretty. Put on your sexiest lingerie and wait in your bedroom. Have a light nap if you feel tired. Be a good girl, I’d like you to do that for me.”

At first she shows a bit of a worried face, but then it relaxes into a big smile, “OK.” and she leaves the room.

Billy looks over at Stevie, who says, “Debbie I want you to know that Stevie and I love you both and won’t hurt you in any way. But we are teenage boys and we know what will happen if we just try to go on as normal. So we need to find a new normal. Why don’t you bring in that camera you were using earlier for the party pictures? It does movies too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Stevie and I are going to record a short video. You know how to play it back in the camera too?”

“Yes”

“Radical!”

Susan was too nervous to nap, she’d fixed herself up as sexy as she could, showered and redone her make-up, waiting for the boy next door to come and have his way with her, at least that is what she assumed. Damn Derrick and his games, hadn’t she paid enough for humiliating him? The answer immediately flowed back from the depths of her mind, “No not enough. Do what I command. Relax and enjoy it.” and she smiled to herself, her muscles released their tension, and she started wondering how big a prick he son’s best friend had. He was cute, she’d been thinking about him lately, teasing him with flashes of her breasts and butt, taking any opportunity to feel his muscles, brushing herself against him when they passed in the hall. She didn’t know that Derrick had told her to do this when he set up this birthday several months ago, but she was aware that Billy was red hot for her, which turned her on despite him almost being a second son. And she felt obligated because she had led him on.

Soon the door opened and instead of Billy was Debbie, also freshly scrubbed and wearing a silky satin housecoat that was so thin her nipples pushed outlines through it. She was carrying a camera, a tripod and a kitchen timer.

“What?” Susan asked, and Debbie said that there was a movie that Stevie and Billy wanted them to watch. She set the tripod and timer by the bed, and sat down, indicating to Susan to sit beside her, thighs touching where the bed sunk under their broad mature asses, as she started playing the movie on the camera’s LCD display, the image small and the sound tinny, but both women could clearly see Stevie and Billy in the kitchen, just as Debbie had recorded them half an hour ago.

“Hi Debbie, Hi Mom,” Stevie started, with Billy greeting the women the same way. “Big changes, huh. We know you really want to talk to us about them, and really we do want to hear what you have to say. We’ll all meet for a late breakfast tomorrow and hash it all out.”

“I want pancakes,” Billy interjects.

Stevie continues, “Billy and I are going to go meet our friends for a bit, we may be out late but that’s OK.” Billy repeats this in case they need to command the women separately. “In the meantime, Derrick says that Debbie has always been really bi and hot for Susan, who’s not so bi but is a bit lonely for physical contact. So Debbie has been frustrated, but doesn’t quite know why for the last few years. And Susan has been itching for a lover, but they’ve never actually done it without Derrick telling them to, though they’ve come close. So tonight you have for yourselves, Debbie is going to call the shots and you are going to do all the things you used to do to each other when you were with Derrick. According to him, you’ll find your old double headed dildo in the top drawer, along with a bunch of newer toys to try out. Debbie is going to set up the camera on the tripod, set the focus correctly and compose a nice shot that captures all the action in an 2 hour-long movie. Once you have had three orgasms each, you can talk about “the situation” for ten minutes, use the timer, and then you need to have three more orgasms to get each additional ten minutes, but you can do that as many times as you like. Other than that you can’t talk about it, except for a little bit right at the start after the camera is running. See you tomorrow. Have fun!” and a final command, “Put the camera in my room when you’re done and forget about it.”

Derrick, who’d wired the house with sound and video before he sold it to Susan was watching the whole night from party to his video to the guys in the kitchen while their moms writhe in orgasm after orgasm in the other room, right up to now, and he’s so very proud of how mature his sons have been, taking their time figuring out what to do and not ignoring their own social set at the expense of a morally questionable but very available fuck.

Debbie screws the camera on to the tripod, and places it near the bed, up a few feet, and takes her time positioning lights and getting the framing right—she’d done a photography course as part of her journalism degree, and was fussy. She presses record as Susan starts to say something, but that is lost when Debbie takes the sides of Susan’s face in her hands and guides her lips closer, then touching Debbie’s slightly open mouth wetly with hers, her tongue tracing the outline where their flesh meets. When they break, Debbie says, “I love fucking you. I think I’m going to love fucking your son. I bet Derrick made it that way because I don’t feel guilty at all. Not a bit, in fact it makes me hot just thinking about it... Do your best for my Billy, will you?”

Susan didn’t really know what to think, she knew it was all wrong and had been appalled when she fully understood what Derrick intended. But Derrick was always right. And that worried her, though her hands had reached out to untie Debbie’s sash to find her gloriously naked tits nipple-stiff and as large and smooth as she remembered them, and Susan became aware that her own pussy had started to moisten nicely.

Debbie rattled on, “Do you think Stevie will like kissing me? I like to kiss almost as much as fucking. Is he a virgin? Does he have a nice pecker? Maybe he’s kinky, do you think he’ll do my ass the first time we get together? Is he ticklish? We should shave our pussies bare. Tonight. Later. The boys said I’m calling the shots and I want you to shave me and I’m going to shave you. No argument, baldie.”

Susan shrugged and ‘got on with it’; She’d learned long ago it was no use fighting Derrick’s plans, still Debbie’s prattling had brought up many disturbing thoughts, things she was trying not to think about. She purred, “Shut up and put your mouth somewhere useful. Down here. Yes that’s the spot. Mmmmmm. Oh Yes! There! Again! More tongue. Get those fingers in there...”

When the boys watched the video the next morning, what they happily learned was that neither woman seemed upset at all, in fact Debbie seemed to be looking forward to doing all sorts of things with Stevie and had all kinds of interesting suggestions, which Billy also made note of to try as well, his mother had a seriously dirty mind, Susan would never have had those thoughts, or at least said them aloud. Billy thought that there was something mysteriously classy about the more reserved Susan, she was super-sexy and super-sophisticated, he remembered that she looked particularly hot in her Real Estate Lady uniform, red jacket, above the knee skirt and stockings and shoes with just enough heel to push her butt out when she walked and he really wanted to do her when she was dressed like that and bent over an office desk, she was classy even when his mom was shoving some kind of vibrator in and out of her twat and she was screaming as she came once, twice, three times in a row. She turned him on like nothing else. If Stevie was going to put it to his mom, then bydadgum he was owed Susan. It was only fair! Billy knew with a nervous certainty right then that “it” was going to happen. They weren’t going to chicken out today like they did the night before.

What sealed the deal is that Debbie moved the camera into the bathroom to capture the beneath the belly barbering. “She hadn’t been told to do it, but knew we would like it,” Stevie observed. “Cool.”

Then the movie ended.

“Whoa Dude! That was intense. Sure am hankering for those there pancakes,” Billy said, hooking his thumbs under imaginary overall straps like that Farmer Joe on TV, “Yup, a-hankering”.