The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

On the larger center monitor Debbie ran backwards down the hall towards the bathroom where she had kissed Susan goodnight and given a final cleaning wipe across her just shaved bare pubes with a damp towelette in the previous shot. Then “Stop” was pressed on the control pad built into the pillowy-comfortable captain’s chair’s broad arms, then a mark of “In”. “Out” was already set to when Debbie placed the camera in Billy’s room. “Enter” copied the clip into the timeline at the previous endpoint. This was going to be the longest ever edition of what Angela had come to call “The Stevie and Billy Show.”

The next file started from when the motion-sensitive system was woken at the side door that accessed both halves of the duplex. The always-on-but-only-recording-to-disc-starting-from-a-20-second-preview-buffer-from-before-saved-memory system activated. Less than an hour later by the time code. Billy and Stevie coming home. Trying to be careful and quiet. Still very unsure.

The sound quality in the edit room is awesome, the whole set up was too, almost new, from a just sold TV station that was renovating, which was then upgraded by Derrick to womb-like futuristic and of such a custom quality that afterwards he filed three patents based on technical problems he solved while fine tuning it. He later said setting it up was the most fun he’d had in years, which he then apologized for when he saw Angela’s pout in his direction.

“You got tit. I know you did.”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“Yeah you did. And I bet Lucy Frenched ya too.”

“Well if you’d just been a little less of a pussy, I bet Nancy would have gone around the shack with you too.”

“I just like her as a friend.” Blush.

There’s only one camera in the common mudroom entryway, covering both separate inner doors, which led to each unit. F12 is pressed, this adds the whole file less the buffer up to that point to the master edit. Activated, the file with the hall camera in Billy’s place starts playing, nothing interesting other than both boys heading down the hall to Billy’s bedroom. F11 causes the system to do a basic analysis of the content, and automatically inserts the part where there is motion, dissolving to compact time, losing the parts where there is no motion or sound for more than five seconds or more, and then the next set of files start playing, four in all from different angles showing Billy’s bedroom. Numbers one to four on the keypad control which camera is on the center screen, the system records the switching’s timing and whatever is there is what ends up on the final version, with some tweaking allowed to fix mistakes before finalizing, she’s become so used to doing this that usually it’s not needed. In previous weeks often an hour was enough time to get the fifteen or so interesting minutes she could convince Derrick to look at. He told her that he’d watch each week what she recorded if she threw in a blowjob.

She agreed, with the qualifier, “Unless there is a good reason not to. An emergency for example.”

They sealed the pact in a way that had become second nature for anything important, Derrick raised his ring so they both could hear it’s buzzing, “Derrick will watch every week Angela’s new record of the Godiva Bay folks and she will give him a blowjob. Unless there is a good reason not to.”

On screen the two teens entered Billy’s room.

“Cool, the camera’s here. Good sign, Bro!”

Stevie popped the memory card from Debbie’s camera and plugged it into Billy’s tablet. “What’s important,” Angela thought, “is their reactions. Derrick just saw whatever is on that stick from my angles. Better get a full copy of it too just in case he wants it.”

So the main shot is mostly Stevie and Billy as they watch Debbie and Susan get it on, with an inset frame lower right showing what they are looking at—it takes a while to set up but runs smoothly without needing a lot of switching, as the ladies get off three times each and then recuperate and talk for exactly ten minutes by a kitchen egg timer. Stevie really wanted to go to his own room and beat off—he’s pretty shy about pulling it in front of Billy. When the horny MILFs start getting all kissy and licky again, he says, “Fast forward to the next talk, we can look at the whole thing later. I want to go to bed, but I gotta know how it ends first or I’ll never pass out.”

“Try holding your breath while you yank off. You’ll pass out.”

“That’s stupid. People die from that.”

“Do not.”

“Do.”

The breaks in the two mom’s slurpy moist sex—they both liked their body creams and ointments—to “Talk about the situation” became repetitive. Debbie was pretty much “If I have to do this, might as well enjoy it.” She tried to sell Susan on this by appealing to her practical instincts, emoting with a sob, “There’s no one I trust more teaching Billy about sex than my best friend,” followed by a naked hug. While Susan simply worried about a million details. Both boys watching had raging hard-ons but didn’t admit it to each other. Both wanted the other to go away so they could rub one out. Stevie reached over and fast forwarded it to almost the end, where they watched slack jawed as Susan shaved Debbie’s cunt hair down to smooth pink skin, then oiled it with a little lotion so it gleamed. The open mouth caused Stevie to yawn. Dawn wasn’t that far away.

“OK, everything looks good. Do you have a memory stick I can use? No? OK Do you have the password to the storage Derrick set up for us. ‘2Horny2?” Right I’m uploading it to the cloud, let it run. I’ll download it later and delete the file up there. It’s too big to email.”

Angela smiled, her copy had just finished downloading from Billy’s iPad. She could speed up their internet connection to T3 speed, no big deal to upload a few gigs. Every electronic device that had memory and connected to the house network or Wi-Fi was completely duplicated on Angela’s system.

Stevie rattled on, “A private server. That’s like so the way to go. In 2005. I guess it’s pretty secure. Only us see this, right?”

Billy once again answers this question with a “Well, duh!”

Derrick wasn’t interested in watching his boys jerk off, and there was nothing else of interest the rest of the night, so Angela saved those clips to her own private project’s timeline one after the other, not intercutting between the boys then she played them in a loop.

On the left arm of her “Kirk” chair was a second inset of controls. The first one reclined and heated slightly the chair, the second raised her knees as she spread her pale legs wide, she lifted the simple almost-transparent black shift she favored at night to expose her close trimmed fine-black-haired pussy.

Angela’s petite, with modest but still firm breasts, shoulder length jet black hair shaped to a simple perfection once a week, almost-albino white skin made by combining Norse heritage with life-long night-owl habits. She was a born natural goth, though ten years too old to have ever been seen as trendy. Her face in the right light suggested she may be part fox. A surprisingly cute fox, men always gave her a second look, sometimes with a somewhat startled or awestruck expression—she wasn’t what they expected, always to her satisfaction. She knew that both Susan and Debbie were far more conventionally pretty. She had more character. They were younger too—ten years. She had more experience. And even just sitting and watching, she felt her power, her control and it made her wet, control if not of the world then at least these four lives at 15a and 15b Godiva Bay—and rightly so. Getting to this point had taken a lot of work, but now it was paying off. Angela was having the time of her life.

She opened a side pocket in the chair delicately lifting out a personal massager that Derrick had turbo-charged—it was hard to say what exactly he did, but it was her favorite object in the entire world, and she masturbated along with the boys on the screen. “Masturbated along with” not “at” or “thinking horny thoughts about” because she fully realized that all three were thinking the same thing, what was going to happen to the “Designated Sluts” in just a few hours. “Designated Sluts” was her nickname for Debbie and Susan, and she had a pretty good idea of what was going to go down, she’d written the script.

They all came pretty quickly, and like the boys she went off to bed. First she set an alarm to wake her once the boys were stirring, she wanted to see it all live. Even if it meant getting up before noon. Sort of like a six-years old’s Christmas Day and a moon-shot rocket launch countdown combined in anticipation for her.

Angela realized she was jealous.

This is about eight years earlier when she and Derrick were still newlyweds.

It wasn’t a familiar emotion.

She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it, so she asked Derrick’s advice.

Even further back in time, only about a month after Angela Patinko and young Derrick began their complex relationship they were lying in post-coital bliss, and Derrick asked her to go into detail about her time in the masters program in Psychology.

“Really? It’s pretty arcane and complicated. My thesis, that is.”

“Goody, I love arcane and complicated. I think I may love you too, but I’m not sure. I’ll let you know. What were you like as a grad student? All serious, wearing a beret in a coffee shop at 4am? Or tied to a study cubicle, back sore from hunched over reading? Surely not a party girl?”

That made Angela laugh, which in turn made Derrick really happy too. He even thought he was getting the hang of this “other people” thing, well at least one person, her. Actually he was pretty sure it was love.

“I was queen of the rats.”

Derrick hadn’t thought twice about pulling Susan aside when he ran into her in the elevator in an office tower where she was repping some empty suites for a commercial client, and he was in a foul mood because he arrived to find his business lunch cancelled without notice and he was hungry. They went into the second largest office suite, a company that had just finished redecorating when it went under, leaving it ‘turnkey ready’ and showroom shiny if somewhat generic, like a display of an office, and with only brusque grunted communication he commanded, “Come with me,", “What are you doing here”, “Show me the furnished suite”, and “Blowjob.” Then he felt better.

He called the penthouse level restaurant which was to have catered the missed lunch, and talking to the manager with a little help from his buzzing ring arranged to have a tray cart with two full lunches and assorted beverages delivered.

He always felt better about Susan or Debbie just after he’d used them. Particularly when he’d been a little rough. He smiled for the first time, “Show me around.”

They ate on the boardroom table, then she neatly cleaned up.

“How’s security on this room? Any way to eavesdrop, what’s above and below”

“The room has no outside hard surface for line-of-site microphones, Above and below are common areas which are monitored 24-7. The special ceiling tile deadens sound better than foam by 60%. There’s a wire mesh built in the walls to interfere with electronic signals. Wi-Fi users have to connect to the room’s router to get a signal.”

“So when I fuck you and make you cum, you can scream as loud as you want and no one else will hear?”

“Yes.”

“Boardroom table part of the included furnishings?” She nods. “How many blonde real estate ladies have been fucked on top of this?”

“One. Maybe. Probably.”

“Birth control?”

“Yes”

“Healthy?”

“Yes”

“Right you are. Lose your panties and climb on top”

It was a big table, she could spread her arms and not touch either side. And not the most comfortable place to fuck, too hard. But there was a thrill for both of them in being naughty in this ghost office, like kids sneaking in after hours. To his credit, at least Derrick always made her orgasm whenever he entered her life. But she’d have to do some cleaning and airing out before she could show this room again. Shit, did they stain the table?

“I’ll take it.”

“Huh?” she asked still a little bleary, having only so far stuffed one but not both tits back in her bra.

“Three years, option for five more. I’ll find something to fill this space.”

“Uh, thank you.” She realizes that she just made over a hundred grand commission the first day this place was on the market—about thousand per month for eight years if they took the option! She was expecting months of work to get a good tenant. She wouldn’t even have to share it this time, her manager hadn’t yet selected a partner for her to work with on the showings.

He digs through a stack of cards in his wallet and pulls one out and writes on the reverse, “L3O5, Call for details.”

“Here, talk to this guy, he’s in charge of that kind of stuff for me. You’ll still have to negotiate. He’ll be fair.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she grabs a paper towel and wipes their juices off the table. Right at the center of what was once a perfectly polished dark wood surface is a slightly lighter stain. She rubs it hard, tries spitting because a cleanser might do more damage, no luck, still there. You could only really see it from certain angles when the light was a certain way, but once you noticed it, it became obvious.

“We’ll replace the table if we can’t get that out,” she offered, shifting to realtor voice.

“No, no, leave it there—It’ll be fun to contemplate during any dull meeting I may get stuck in this room for. I’ll think about your pussy spurting here instead. Then I’ll fuck you in my mind. Later I might even hunt you down and fuck you for real. But I have a 2:15 meeting so there’s only time for one more quick blowjob. I love the way you do it.”

“Gdhank Ghoo,” she said, his sausage already restricting her happy, grateful throat. The first blow job was done with expert technique and a knowledge of what Derrick likes, the second added energetic enthusiasm.

Angela found out when going through the receipts a couple of weeks later for the lunch—she had become Derrick’s calendar keeper years ago when still Mrs. Pantinko, and since their marriage worked closely with his highly paid and highly competent EA most mornings before heading off to sleep the day away, then up for a shared meal late afternoon. Derrick didn’t really have any preferred day/night rhythm, he slept when tired, and often had to be reminded to go to bed when he became over-wound. Keeping Derrick correctly wound was Angela’s mission in life.

What made her jealous wasn’t that he’d messed around with Susan—nothing new there, he’d been doing that off and on and it was the same to her as when her first husband visited his mistress. What got to her was the fact that he didn’t tell her about it. She had liked to think they told each other everything. Certainly the important stuff. She thought she’d taught him better than to keep secrets that might impact his emotional balance. It impacted her purpose for being.

Angela melted when Derrick got all sheepish, like a bad boy caught masturbating with liver from the ’fridge, “So I should have said, ‘Guess what? I fucked Susan today. And got two blowjobs.’”

“No, but it kinds of feels like you were hiding it. You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“So what are you going to do with all that office space? I guess we could...”

“I’m going to set up a new company there. Those guys who jerked me around for a lunch meeting? I’m going in the same business in the same building. There’s a way to do what they do that’s about 17% more profitable. So I’ll dry up their markets and either drive them into bankruptcy or sweep in like an angel and buy them out after driving down their stock price and then fire those assholes who stiffed me for a “free” lunch. But only after destroying whatever stock options or other golden parachute goodies they may have. The fuckers did it deliberately. A little birdy told me. ACME Detective agency confirmed it. ”

“Or you could talk to their boss.”

“Nah, he’s an asshole too. By the time they figure out what I’ve done it’ll be too late. No matter what it’s going to be profitable. There’s a project folder up on the ‘J:’ drive now, have a look, tell me what you think.

Derrick wasn’t sure why he felt he should, but the next day it seemed like a good time to give Angela some of the apology jewelry he had stashed away on the advice of one of the marriage manuals he read before proposing.

And on their first anniversary he gave her a ring and a photo of Susan and Debbie. When Angela asked what this meant, Derrick said he was gifting her the two twenty-nine year old women.

Thankfully Billy and Stevie slept until almost noon before Angela was woken with their stirring. Stevie checked his desktop computer—a little older, almost four years, but top of the line at the time so still pretty good—one of Debbie’s cast-offs. The movie of the women had completely downloaded and he opened it and skimmed through, stopping to beat off when he found the part where they used the double dildo, Debbie screaming as she came.

He then texted Billy, who was up, telling him to come to his room when he was ready.

He dressed in shorts and an Angry Birds tee-shirt. Billy had to go back through the main floor shared entryway to get to Stevie’s, he passed the two women in Susan’s kitchen, talking about everything but “The Situation”, they didn’t want to do the whole three orgasms first thing which remained in effect, so they were gossiping about people that Billy didn’t know or really care about while mixing up a bunch of batter and heating the griddle. A radio played classic soft rock quietly in the background. He slipped past them without a word and they didn’t notice.

Angela got to the control room in time to watch live Stevie and Billy’s conversation, Derrick would be impressed how the two used logic combined with their natural teen hormone-driven horniness to justify what they had determined to do. In particular Stevie’s pointing out the implications of Debbie moving the camera to the washroom for the shaving of the pussies as tacit approval bordering on anticipation, at least on Debbie’s part.

Stevie printed the contract—two copies, which Billy and he both signed and then shook hands. Then he ran off copies of “Plan Susan” and “Plan Debbie”, handing the first to Billy.

“Any last minute thoughts?”

“Yeah, take it slow or she’ll totally take over. Show her who’s in charge early. You got any thoughts on Susan?”

“Um, just be firm, and she’ll break. Remember how I got that bike like two years ago. OK, let’s go Bro.”

“Bro.” They bump fists.

Together they entered the kitchen. “Hey!”

Susan starts in right away, “It’s not too late to say no.”

Billy has a response ready that he and Stevie had worked out. “Right. You’ve said that now. Again. You—and I mean Debbie too” Stevie nods his agreement, “can say ‘it’s not too late’ a couple more times, but on the third one that’s it, you both head for your bedrooms and we’ll end that argument once and for all. Understood?” The women mumble their assent. “Right, breakfast first, we have some things to say while you cook, and then we’ll listen to what you have to say about this all. Blueberry and bananas pancakes. Rad! Get’m started.”

Susan had a long robe on tied tight at the waist, flat bedroom slippers only visible when she walks. Debbie has a short kimono that barely covers her ass and tan panties fit snugly over her sex giving an occasional camel-toe view to the seated guys as she walks around setting the table..

Billy called for the first two flapjacks done. Bacon on the side, already cooked and kept warm in the oven. Then he adds, “What Stevie says here goes for me too, OK. so I like don’t have to keep saying ‘me too’, Susan. I’m calling you Susan now. If anyone overhears and asks, you can tell them that he’s a man now.”

“Same for Billy, Debbie. Here and now we are like talking with the same voice.”

“Except mine’s dropped,” Billy teases.

Stevie stares at Billy, they’d agreed on a united front and getting in a hoo-haw was absolutely not in the plan.

“Sorry.”

Susan starts the cooking while Debbie pours juice into four glasses, and offers the boys coffee. Neither had really got the habit yet, but sometimes went down to Starbucks with friends for the sweet candy-like favored joe. Billy puts three teaspoon-fulls of sugar in his, and lots of milk.

Stevie starts, glancing at his paper, “We—that is Billy and me—thought a lot about this. First off, it’s going to happen.”

Susan can’t stop herself, “It doesn’t have to. It’s not happened yet.”

Billy looks up at her, it’s to him to deal with Susan. “That counts as “one”. Billy looks over at Stevie who nods, continue. “Like, one of the things we agree on is that even if we say no, we’ll still be able to go for a yes later. And then we’d end up sneaking around, and maybe someone’s feelings would be hurt and it’s way better to be real open about it from the start. We wrote out a bunch of stuff we agree on, and that’s going to be like our constitution. Stevie.” Susan put the finished plate in front of Billy and started in on the second batch.

“Yeah, I’m not going to go over them all now, a lot has to do with just Billy and me, but first—we love you guys, er gals and aren’t going to do anything to hurt you. And we think you’re total babes. You love us too, and aren’t going to hurt us either, and you are going to help us become real men, educated and whatever we need to make it in the world. We—all of us—are going to not tell anyone or in any way let outsiders see what we are doing. That means not taking any wild risks, like Debbie isn’t going to mow the lawn in the nude. I’ll find a hot bikini for her to wear when she does. You’ll warn us when you spot any dangers. And you are going to keep doing what you do now, work-wise, and we promise not to interfere unless there is something we can do to help. We’re mostly going to live like we were, but with adjustments. Thanks, these look yummy.”

While Stevie eats, Billy takes up the talking, “Like, there’s a lot we don’t know. Like taxes. Like insurance. Details. Susan, you handle all those things. I want you to think through what has to change to make it better for Stevie and me, and for all of us if like we end up squishy. We all still gotta do the normal life stuff too.”

Susan takes the opening to say, “I don’t know what problems we’ll face. They could be pretty big, Debbie and I could lose custody and go to jail if things got bad. You know it’s not too late...”

“Two. One more time and that’s it.”

Stevie adds, “We won’t ever let it get that far. And you’re going to help make sure that doesn’t happen. But it wouldn’t hurt to have an escape plan. Figure one out. Next, babies.” Both women turn their full attention to him. “Not going to happen, at least before our next birthday. So we gotta work out birth control. School—it’s pretty obvious that Derrick—and ultimately it come down to making him happy, you guys because you owe him and he makes you—er—do stuff, us because... well just because it seems like a good idea. Anyhoo, he wants us to get good grades. And that means not cheating either, like we can’t get you to write our papers or do our homework, but we can ask you to help us study and explain when we aren’t getting it. Like tutors. So you’ll both have to get to know our subjects and keep us on track, which includes not totally turning into annoying sloths. That also means we are going to be pretty much normal around our friends, and you are going to help with that too. You’re going to help us with girls too, without getting jealous or anything. You know, advice and such. And practice, lots of practice.”

“OK, your turn to talk. Let’s hear it.”

“At last,” Susan thought. She’d been arranging her arguments in her head into a list of six major points, all the while avoiding even implying that it wasn’t too late to reject Derrick’s gift. As she set herself legs apart and cross-armed to speak, opened her mouth and began, “Well...” But Debbie interrupted her.

“You know it’s not too late.”

“DEBBIE!” The annoyed Susan glared and leaned forward, Debbie just shrugged.

“Three—get going.”

Susan stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Debbie smiled at Stevie.

“For that you have to do the dishes and clean the kitchen—later though. See you soon.”

Debbie exited with a flounce and a wicked grin.

Billy turned to Stevie, belched some pancake gas, and said, “Well I guess this is it. You ready?”

Stevie felt his boner pressing up against his pants. “Yeah, I think so.”

Angela hit pause on her viewing timeline, but kept recording. She wanted to have a piss and some breakfast coffee before watching the main event. Derrick was going to love this.

“Queen of the rats? Explain.”

Derrick had brought out all of Angela’s perfumes, lotions and ointments. He was testing them one at a time as she lay there reminiscing propped up with a mound of silk covered pillows at her back. She’d just explained at a level of detail her master’s thesis, a lot of which she hadn’t gone through in her mind for at least fifteen years or so. It seemed so much more important then.

Along with the cosmetics Derrick had brought them both a large glass of what he assumed was an excellent red wine from Mr. Pantinko’s kitchen rack—he didn’t really have a lot of experience with alcohol, but this was nice and Angela had assured him that it was the socially correct thing to do. Besides she was thirsty from all the talking.

While she spoke he opened one jar after another and spread a sample on her pallid naked body, rubbed it in to generate a little heat, and took a long slow sniff. Then he wiped her clean with a damp hand towel sitting in a bowl with a little lemon water. He then placed the sampled fragrance in one of two groups, “Liked” and “Hated”. When done with the jars he moved on to the atomized perfumes, it was harder to totally get rid of each scent, and it didn’t take long for the room to start smelling like a flower wholesale warehouse. His solution was to get right next to her skin with his nose. He tested in different areas, initially on her chest and the nape of her neck, later as those held remaining traces of scent down her belly and into her pubic thatch.

“Lab rats. I had a TA position to help pay for grad school. I looked after the Psyche department’s test animals. And you know how I live, I was the “weird girl down in the basement with the animals at Midnight.” In Salem back when they’d probably accuse me of witchcraft.”

“You are so witchy” Derrick rubbed her tummy with the damp cloth and patted her dry again.

“Yeah, I was working with them as part of the thesis, so it made sense. I liked the little critters. I got interested in their social interactions. I started to see if I could influence it. Just because I could. I went too far. They started behaving abnormally, not just for me but other students noticed in their experiments. Not like they started to do anything too way out, just statistically outside the norm. Fortunately for me the powers that be decided that there was a bad generation or a feed problem, and despite my pleas to study what was happening, they decided to destroy that entire generation of test beasties and start fresh. Though there were rumors that I was part of the problem, they let me keep my job and the wariness that the profs and other students thawed a lot once the new batch were deemed “normal”. I wasn’t happy though, I’d lost a lot of what I’d come to think of as friends—Sparky, Ethel, Phil and Oprah—and worse, my thesis test results were opposite what I’d expected. I was real down, and I’m pretty sure it showed. ’Cause that was when I met Ernie Pantinko for the first time. He came down for a tour of the lab where we kept the animals. But he was really looking in on me. Like he did with you—he’s done it a half dozen times or so, gone in to see brilliant but troubled students and finding ways to help them, sometimes it’s as simple as a schedule change to get rid of a pressure, sometimes it’s doctors and medications. With me, he asked me to go with him to a fancy fundraising benefit in a couple of weeks. For the department. He was so charming and I’d had barely any social life all year, so I said yes. He was so kind and attentive when I went on and on about the troubles of my thesis. He wasn’t just looking for a student to fuck either, he was a real gentleman that night, arranging for classy a formal rental for me to wear—not just a reheated prom dress either.”

Derrick had found three different kinds of lubricant and had spread each in a line drawn across her midriff. He didn’t hate any, but one had a nicer nuttier odor. He coated a finger and started spreading it around her sex, giving a gently oily stroking. “Go on.”

“He asked me out again, and I agreed, as long as it was to go to the Opera. With school and the cost I hadn’t been to one in two years, and he agreed. You know how I get when I go—I figured I’d probably end up fucking him, so I might as well enjoy it to the max. He’s good looking, right, but older. I wasn’t a freshman just off the farm either, and thought of myself as a fully mature and serious adult—though as I get older I doubt that most people ever really become so 100%. There’s an inner six year old, and an inner 17 year old lurking somewhere in the mind of almost all octogenarians. You don’t entirely lose it. Ernie’s really in touch with that six year old when he has a new toy—usually some kind of machine with enhanced precision or a company that needs to be reorganized, or a student to mentor. If they are good looking and he can fuck them too—no, he’s too polite and gentle for that term, if he can show them the joys of physical love—well, bonus. Don’t worry, he’s strictly hetro, it wouldn’t cross his mind to think of you that way—though you certainly are one of his “projects”. But, heh, you kind of turned the tables on him. You took more than he had thought he was going to give. But you have to know he’s happy with the way it’s turned out. He likes having you around. Not as much as I dooooo. Slow down or I won’t be able to talk. Long slow smooth strokes, Are you getting hard again. Not quite. But soon I hope.”

“And he helped me enormously with my final thesis through making a simple observation that I’d overlooked. I hadn’t proved my theory, but I’d been rigorous and kept excellent notes and explored all the variables to the logical conclusions, so what I’d done is prove that the central idea of “enforced unobtrusive distraction” couldn’t be tested using my set of methods, which were derived from a core tenet that hadn’t been challenged in twenty years—and so my well documented failure cast doubt on a more central concept, and Ernie convinced me that was in fact a step forward—a positive result to frame my paper around. In a way that was important, there had been a number of similar attempts that also got nowhere, but I was the first to explain why then show the implications.”

“Writing the actual paper came quickly after that. I had no problem defending it and so when I graduated I had a degree and a lot of experience with a dead-end theory. One that had the cache of cool for a while, now because of my research seemed hopelessly out of date. However, Ernie read through the jargon and bafflegab and pulled out a gem I hadn’t thought important, a technique that I used for one test that might just have an application for national security—spy stuff. I had in part received funding from the Pentagon—it was one of the fountains of cash in those days for any Psych research—and Ernie has contacts in a couple of places there. So he talked them into giving me an extra reward on top of what they put in earlier, they wouldn’t have noticed his find either, so I came out of school if not wealthy at least debt free and footloose. Then he asked me to marry him. That was unexpected and is a story for another day. No hiding it, you’re stiff again. Get to work. Wait! Use that second lube, the gel, and do my ass this time. Wait! I’m on top.”

“Mom is going to be really pissed at you,” Stevie said. “She had a lot to say.”

“Yeah, tough titties. She’ll still say it, just wait.”

“No soft titties, do that again. Aahh. I got an idea that’ll distract her.”

Debbie was on the bathroom rug with her boobs wrapped around his pecker. A little baby oil greased the way as she slid up and down, her hands pressing her tits together and he leaned back on the commode, legs wide, one foot one the floor the other up on the edge of the tub.

“Fuck the rubber duckie; Fuck! This is what makes tubby time so much fucking fun.” Their first shower together was a chance for him to feel her all over including his new favorite, bent over and soapy wet. She scrubbed him everywhere too, and her hand-job had brought him back to semi-stiffness, leading to the mutual towel off and boob-job in progress.

Debbie twisted sideways around his dick head before bobbing down again. “Can I say something?”

“Sure”

“Be careful when you talk like that. I mean you can be as crude as you want around me but if you get in the habit of swearing, you’re going to find yourself doing it without thinking. At times when you’ll wish you hadn’t. Just some advice.”

“Hmm. I can see that. But I gotta learn to curse real well among my buddies too. It’s a social thing. Oooh! Write me out some extra good cusses tonight so I can practice them. Make’m real crude.”

“Yeah, you have a point, hey, what do you want to do? You’re going to blow. Please don’t put your oily dick in my mouth. I’ll wash it off if you want to finish there.” Stevie was breathing faster and had slid lower on the plastic seat.

“N-n-no need. Ever see ‘There’s Something about Mary’?”

The camera had fogged up and the image was blurry, but the audio was clear and crisp. So Angela laughed.

Angela looked at the ring and photo that Derrick gave her as a first Anniversary gift. “What’s this?”

He rested his hands around her shoulders and leaned in to kiss her gently on the lips.

“They’re yours. Well. ours. I still may want one or the other from time to time. But with this ring you can control them. Well anyone really, but only them unless I say it’s OK in advance. I don’t want you to do anything that would harm the boys, but other than that, use them as you want. I’ve got a few cameras in their new place so you can monitor them. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, but you know how I get, dear, and sometimes the best way to set myself back to normal is to use one of them. Not like we make love, but a hard angry fuck. And you’re better at seeing when I’m about to get in that state than I am, and can either deal with it yourself or call one of them in. Sorry dear, but they’re better at turning my mood when I get that way, I just can’t get that angry at you.”

Angela had a strong and emotional memory of her pet lab rats. Of how it felt when they did what she’d manipulated them to do. Of how excited that had made her.

“OK, so... what can I do?”

“Pretty much anything that has minimal impact on the boys lives. Experiment. Play. Have them over for tea. Send them on inappropriate dates. But there’s a catch.”

“What?”

“You’re going to have to monitor them, and the kids too and tell me about it. I’ve been pretty bad about paying attention, and I’ve found myself to be weirdly shy about introducing myself to the boys, I mean now that both the girls are single there’s nothing stopping me but me. But that’s the way it is. The ring is the same as mine, but I’m going to put an enforced command on you that you can only use it on them unless you get my permission.”

“Thank you. I promise not to get jealous.”

“Jealous is OK as long as you tell me and we deal with it. And maybe you’ll figure more about how the ring works. I know it does, just not what exactly is it doing. I know what it does, just not why.”

So about five years ago Angela started messing with Susan and Debbie’s lives. She remembered the great rat genocide and was resolved to start slow and not go overboard. And not to get caught.

Susan and Debbie always thought they had the worst luck with men, not only did all their dates seemed to turn out to be weirdos and freaks, but none of them ever called back, even after nights of screaming sex or back-alley blowjobs. Four-ways where there were three no-calls and no-flowers the next day. Some days they’d go to the mall to pick up some summer clothes and find themselves at Victoria’s Secret maxing out their credit cards instead and not know why.

Angela and Derrick went to this weird “Sex Circus” thing when on vacation in San Francisco, an R-rated burlesque performance. Afterwards with his permission she contacted the star performers, a freakishly hung midget named Mike and a lean athletic double-jointed female dancer who had an exaggerated labia and who squirted buckets when she orgasmed who took the stage name “Cumpump.” The offer of plane tickets, a four star hotel, and a couple thousand dollars, and with Angela’s select use of the buzzing ring, they agreed to a mission, they were told Susan’s brand new “turn on” trigger and sent east to fuck her brains out. She’d have the false memory of having met Mike before, but it was up to them to use the trigger and their own charm to get her on her back. So when Debbie took the kids on a trip to see her family out on a farm in the next state, Susan had the entire Independence Day weekend balanced on the short person’s long dick—he even managed with a lot of lube to get it up her bum, or tied up in Cumpumps human knots soaked in orgasmic fluid, male and female. She ached for weeks after, and Derrick loved hearing all about it, but was disappointed that they hadn’t arranged for cameras.

Debbie had a bout of writer’s block, hadn’t worked in a month and was turning down assignments. Angela “invited” her over—this was fairly rare, usually she contacted the women by phone with instructions. After listening to Debbie grouse about not being able to start anything, Angela used the ring to suggest a part-time job and handed her a catalog from one of those home sales party type places. But instead of Tupperware, it was for boudoir products. These parties had become quite popular for extra-special bridal showers, and in a few cases divorce parties. Angela told Debbie to memorize the catalog, her first party was that weekend. And she’d make sure that Susan went with her as an assistant.

The two knocked on the suburban door and were surprised to have Angela let them in. “Come in, I was just explaining to these nice ladies how this all works and passing out order forms—be sure to collect them later.” The young women in the room were mostly from a bridal party and in their early 20’s, plus a few older family friends the bride considered ‘hip’ enough to go to this slightly naughty affair. Well, Angela had erased all thought of ‘slightly’. The women all had a bit of a glazed stare as they sat quietly. Angela snapped her fingers on the way out the door, and it was like a room full of mannequins come to life.

Debbie introduced herself, but only referred to Susan as her silent assistant. She then plopped the sample case on the end table and Susan put down a matching suitcase behind a folding screen which had been set up in a corner of the living room, opened it and got undressed.

There was a rote script the company provided, introductions, compliments to the bride/divorcee/mother-in-law as appropriate, and a “Ready to start? Everybody got a drink?” and the first item was introduced, a reliable shocker of a sheer black merry widow-style nightie with matching panties and gartered fishnet stockings on three-inch heels, all of which Susan was wearing as she stepped from behind the screen to gasps and amused comments from the audience of women. Susan did a model’s walk across the carpet, turned and stood before the dozen or so ladies, who were arranged in two rows on a couch and chairs brought in from around the house. A large woman of the older generation made a really crude comment which set the room giggling and Susan silently blushing. Debbie made her sales pitch and sent Susan back for the next item.

One of the women watching had been to one of these before—she’d helped arrange today, and really didn’t notice that things were going off script until they got to the sex toys. Usually they are shown but not demonstrated. Not so today. Dildos, butt plugs, vibrators of all kind went into Susan, fuzzy handcuffs, spankers and pinchers and various ointments and lubricants were demonstrated. The bride was invited up to stroke the wide-open butt-plugged and restrained Susan with a Hitachi style personal massager until she screamed in orgasm into her ball gag. It was the only time the other women heard he voice all evening. The worse part of it for Debbie is that Susan was getting off and all she was getting was hotter. At the end of the night when the women were writing out their orders Debbie offered head from Susan for any purchase over a hundred dollars. Free for the hostess and the bride, of course. Normally this group of women would have been shocked by what had gone on, but Angela prepared them. So of course many took her up on the offer, one matron adding a whip made of real licorice to her order to get over the threshold. Yet as a company rep Debbie didn’t even get a turn, Angela had told her.

The next day she was back at Angela’s, “So is this your new career? Giving up the writing?”

“No not at all. I made Susan drive home so I could masturbate in the back seat, she wouldn’t even speak to me, she was so mad at me for getting her into this.”

“Well, I’ve booked you for another party next Friday, if you start writing again it’ll be the last one for a while. Look on the plus side you made a couple of thousand bucks.”

Debbie sat down the next day and banged out ten pages on an assignment she had been procrastinating on for months. The next day she wrote the first draft of a short story. Writer’s block busted.

After that Friday Angela only sent the two off on the “Slutterware” circuit on special occasion, Angela arranged one for a school friend who was getting married for the third time, and a Sorority grad week event which opened some sweet young things eyes, and one out at a country club for a bunch of jaded trophy-wife friends of hers—Angela stayed for that one—and such like.

Susan later ran into one or two of the women from the parties, thankfully though they remembered the events with a blush and an oath to themselves to cut way back on the cocktails, and had a strong desire to get laid at the soonest next reasonable opportunity whenever they saw Susan or Debbie around town, yet they were fuzzy on who exactly the sales lady and her assistant were.

“Really?” Susan asked when he took the housecoat from her hands and told her to instead get dressed in what she was wearing when he entered her bedroom a couple of hours ago. But these stockings are all dirty with your goo. And my panties are all wet with my cum and maybe a little pee. See?” She picked them off the floor and they slorshed.

Billy nodded, “Ok, you can get new panties.”

Susan takes out a pair of simple white cotton underthings from her chest of drawers.

“We can save a lot of time if you only bring out your hottest stuff. What ya got?”

Finally they settled on a thin thong that just covered her mound and narrowed to a string that wedged itself almost immediately between her bum cheeks. The hem of her nightie was so high that if he’d chosen the split-crotch pair she’d be flashing beaver every time she moved, she realized with a blush.

“That’ll do. For now. Good thing we’re going shopping later.”

Angela worked carefully—she set up experiments and varied the conditions. She saw how far she could go—pretty far it seemed. Derrick had mentioned that after a while he didn’t need the ring with them. Through a series of tests and a rented MRI scanner—having an advance degree and a lot of money and a ring that persuades gave Angela some hard data as to what was going on in their brains when following orders, including ones they resisted hard. Also when they complied. And when they were having all kinds of sex, the operator technician helped out with that one, though didn’t remember afterwards and appreciated the bonus when his fee was paid.

Her most interesting discovery is that repeated use of the ring combined with the voice triggered a part of the hippocampus to “fill in” the buzzing sound if the voice was one that could be associated with it. The bond to voice grew each time the voice is heard. The implications were enormous, Angela and Derrick had used the ring on each other more than either had on the two women.

“I trust you and love you and I only want you to take as “ringed-in” whatever we’ve said in the past and will say in the future with the ring actually buzzing. Otherwise no extra push, just normal human interaction,” he said. Ne nodded at her.

Angela repeated this without hesitation. Then they fucked.

Angela wanted to see at what point the hippocampus started switching the internal buzzing on. She went to Derrick with her plan. And she had a long formed grand plan that now had a regression testing reason that Derrick would accept.

He was shocked, but liked her idea more after he thought about it and fucked her again.

“Really? So how are you going to make sure it doesn’t hurt the boys? I forbid you to do that, and I’ll buzz that in to you right now.”

“OK. I promise, though they may get a bit of a shock. And it’ll keep them from blowing up like you did. And I think it’ll be really fun. I promise you’ll be happy. The boys will be really happy. Please!”

Derrick didn’t pay child support for his sons, instead he had Angela make sure that Susan always had some paying real estate activity and Debbie commercial writing clients. And Susan earned a good income the next few years with Derrick directly and through his syndicate as an active client for commercial properties, he always seemed to be buying or selling something. It wasn’t much work. Meetings often ended with the two of them humping with her bent over a desk or table, skirt hiked and panties off. And then she’d go to see Angela, where she’d listen on headphones Billy’s voice to the right while the ring buzzed in the left can. But first Angela built a psycho-dam where Billy’s voice would not cause the added buzzing in her brain until Derrick gave the cue word, “Remember”.

Conditioning Debbie was easier, Angela’d just tell Derrick that he needed to unwind in his special way, then call Debbie to come over, and then Angela would tell Derrick to work it all out, and then send Debbie down to her. Derrick often simply said, “Yes dear” when told to go fuck Debbie’s brains out. With Debbie Angela changed two variables, she used Stevie’s voice, and she switched the earpiece with the buzz from left to right.

Careful simple tests were done at first. Later more complex scenarios were tested, like that time in Las Vegas three years before the Birthday party. It was summer, and the kids were off at camp for a month. Derrick was negotiating a complex deal with his “frienemy” Baron Hogshaugh, a fellow self-made inventor industrialist. Most of the items had been agreed to, but it was coming down to a pissing contest over small details. Derrick was getting anxious when he should be cool, and knew it.

Angela called the women and had them ensconced in Derrick’s suite 24 hours later double-teaming his dick.

The next day Angela called one of Derrick’s electronic companies, who spent the next three weeks upgrading the surveillance system in Susan’s duplex, while Angela tried her most difficult and frankly dangerous tinkering with the two women—adding a whole second personality that could be turned on and off at will. On command Susan would become Brandi and Debbie would change to Krystal. Two complete ever-horny stupid bimbos. Totally in love with Derrick, joyfully dripping sex bombs. “Not that much different,” Derrick observed. Angela agreed, but she pointed out that the differences would help with the plan against Hogshaugh, which was to look unconcerned about the piddling details of their deal, and for Derrick to be seen on a bit of an extend bender with a couple of real sluts, and not interested in hurrying through a final signing. So that Hogshaugh felt like he was being kept waiting. Thus Derrick spent a few nights in the casino with Brandi and Krystal draped over him, and them sunbathing in the background for the video call to change a meeting time—Hogshaugh’s assistant Fanshaw’s eyes popped out when Brandi walked into the videoconference frame “accidently” wearing just a collar with a ribbon down the front to a small white bottom that just covered her pussy, with another ribbon running through her bum cheeks up to the back of the collar.

The whole time behind the scenes Derrick’s anxiety about the deal going through sent him into a frenzy of distraction fucking. He hadn’t been so horny since he first took the girls. His frustration over the delays was taken out on his penis, often to the point that he was breathless, he hadn’t exercised as much in years, he relied on a vigorous life to keep himself trim, and middle-aged sedentary aided by often spending all day working at a computer had added pounds.

Hogshaugh broke. He first made feelers to see if he could put any pressure on Derrick by hinting that Angela might be told of the cavorting, but was dismayed to find that she was paying for the companionship—or at least that was how it looked. So Hogshaugh gave in to the final niggling terms—it had become more an ego contest than business deal by then and Hogshaugh was ready to move on and more than a little jealous—his wife would kill him if he tried to do anything more public than slip away for a discreet and completely quiet rendezvous with one of his mistresses.

There was another surprise in store for Hogshaugh and Fanshaw at the meeting to sign, Fanshaw took one last shot at improving the deal for his boss and started asking complicated questions about technical details. So Derrick called in his “assistant”, another personality Angela had imposed on Susan, “Sally the sexy secretary”, Not as deeply ingrained as Brandi, and no time to match up a Debbie version either, but when she didn’t have her heels above her ears or acting as slutty eye candy Susan had been cramming on all the minutia of the negotiations and knew them better than Derrick did. She entered in spikey stiletto heels, micro split black dress, low cut chemise with a push up bra that exposed her ample tits when she leaned over to read from documents on the table and answered every question precisely and accurately with a breathy Marilyn Monroe flirtatious inflection while twirling distractingly a pen with a feather tail atop her boobs. Hogshaugh and Fanshaw were stunned, in particular at the nipple slip during the discussion of amortization.

Hogshaugh realized he’d been tweaked by Derrick, who was grinning broadly, but couldn’t quite see where or how. He had tried to learn about the women surrounding Derrick, but the private detective had failed to find out much, and now the largely naked sex bunny who had been draped over Derrick’s arm for the last month was making a fine point on asset transfer—well it was distracting to say the least. But they all were enjoying the performance, and Derrick had provided them all with some excellent scotch and cigars for the final meeting, so it would have been petulant for Hogshaugh to complain or stop the performance, and Fanshaw wouldn’t have without his boss’s nod.

A few months later Hogshaugh and Derrick met at the Manhattan Racquet Club for a game of squash and boasting. Both were pleased with the balance sheets they’d seen, and Hogshaugh tried to get the dirt directly. But Derrick smiled and said nothing.

As a consequence of the prolonged exposure to the women, Derrick lost all interest in them after Vegas, Angela had to nag a bit to look at her taped weekly peeks into their lives, and when he did, he was more interested in the technology of her control room than the doings of the girls and his sons. That was all right with her, she wanted his attention, and given the glut of fucking in Vegas it was difficult enough to get him to put any ‘solid’ attention on his middle-aged dick, which was still feeling a little over-used. “Aida” was on at the Met next month and she wanted him ready for it.

So from about two years before the ‘go’ date he pretty much left Angela alone in arranging the boy’s surprise birthday presents, to the point where she had even written the script he read when they recorded his introduction to the boys, which was to be played after the party.

“You know the $20 you gave me?”

Debbie looked up from her K-Cup Coffee and nodded across the Formica table at Stevie, who took a sip of the hot chocolate he’d brewed first.

“Billy should have one from Susan too. Dinner is on us. Dinner being Pizza from Augustus’ delivered.”

Billy and Susan entered, “Hey Bro!” he called and high-fived Stevie. “Best fucking birthday present eeeeevuuuur.”

Stevie looked deep into Debbie’s eyes, “Yeah,” and she blushed. Then he made a hand gesture for her to stand up and go by Susan, which she meekly did.

Billy sat where she’d been. Seeing the cups Susan asks if he wants a coffee or chocolate k-cup too?

“Sure. Chocolate. Get something for yourself if you want it.”

Stevie leant towards Billy and they started speaking in hushed voices that the women couldn’t hear. When Debbie started to talk to Susan Stevie asked her to be quiet.

So the women stood there awkwardly looking at each other and their sons Susan couldn’t help but notice that Debbie had a cowlick from her bangs. She’d seen that Cameron Diaz movie and knew exactly what it meant and it made her wet, Debbie with the stinky drying cum-stiffened horn in her long red hair. No mistaking it, Debbie noticed there was also a dried sticky white smear on Susan’s stockings. She could almost taste it. And Susan was very aware of the streak of Billy’s dried spunk that hardened on her cheek like a beauty mark. And she wondered where else on Debbie there was cum—had Stevie cum in her? In her ass maybe? She had talked about it last night. Asking about it. It had to be checked, if.... if... if the boys let her, please. Please.

Stevie once again speaks for both, “We’re pretty beat. Gonna have naps. Debbie and mom, anything you want to do together, or not is OK. Alternate turns on who decides next. We’ll call the ’Za at 6. Clean up and dress slutty for dinner.” With that he stood up and left, pinching Debbie’s ass on the way past.

Billy had become distracted by a spam text on his phone, but barked in laughter when he looked saw that Susan had already stuffed Debbie’s cum-hardened cowlick into her mouth and was sucking on her hair like Maggie on “The Simpsons”.

“Wow!” he thought, “That blooge order. That was like way mega most strong. Whoa!". He stood and said, “Later—fresh and slutty at six, right?”

Susan gave him a thumbs up, dipped it in table butter, and then shoved it up into squealing Debbie’s fundament.

Billy wanted to stay and watch, but his eyes weren’t focusing as he stumbled up and towards a happy but spent rest-up.

Angela yawned, opened her “to do” list and made a note to call in the Designated Sluts for some fine tuning based on the exaggerated strength of their reactions to the boys attempt to condition a trigger—Derrick will like that they tried—saved it, shut down the monitors, and headed off for her own nap with a side of self-abuse, then an idea struck her and she turned around and fired up the new 3D printing workstation. It was Derrick’s latest toy and she knew just what she wanted to do with it.

She started by cuing the video files from the kitchen to the point where Susan’s eyes widened as Debbie’s thumb entered her ass, the transition between sleepy-eyed sexual contentment as she rehydrated Stevie’s goo off the cowlick, sucking all the flavor like it was a Tootsie-pop, and shock at the unexpected but not unwelcome digital intrusion up her bum. All six files that captured the kitchen action shifted to this moment on separate monitors. Angela adjusted the master shot to the sharpest frame, and then went one by one on all the others, scrubbing back and forth in time to find the best frame or the clearest view. The low shot from under the sink where Susan’s ass was most exposed, the shot from above the stove that clearly shows Susan pressing down on Debbie’s back so that she’s bent over slightly making it easier for the shorter woman to stuff the spunky hair in her maw. From the floor where Debbie’s hanging tits are swinging most exaggeratedly from Susan’s push down, from the breadbox on the counter of Debbie’s face, grinning slyly while steadying herself on a chair.

Once all are marked, Angela started a program that will build a virtual model of the scene using the video footage and location information sensors built-in the fixtures and furniture of the room. Angela then used lasso and magic wand tools to select the two women and the chairs Debbie grips, and presses ‘Process’. It’ll still take a couple of hours to compile to the level of detail needed, the program will have to meld the information from the various angles—as the time isn’t absolutely the same on all files there probably will be some later small adjustments to be made, some artifacts to clean up, but when it’s ready Angela plans on 3D printing a one fifth scale statuette of the scene to give to Derrick to celebrate this day.

Confident that everything is running, progress bars galore on all the processes, Angela finally tore herself away from the screens and went to her own kitchen for some mid-afternoon tea and crumpets and this morning’s crossword.