· LB Collection · Story Links · Site Links · Poetry · Submissions · lbworlds Yahoo! · Donations ·

Brainwave of Horror III - Can I Make A Suggestion?

Part 2 [0 1 2 3]

© 2004 Jafar

ogre@securenym.net
http://www.asstr.org/~Jafar/

After the Show, Part 1: Can I Make a Suggestion?

Discourse: Our cars, like our selves, are treasured possessions. But what if we play a little game? When the music pauses, you stop your car, get out and let someone else drive for a while. But there's the rub: who are you going to trust with the keys?

Perhaps a simple hypnotist's show can help us tell who our real friends are ... on the Pumpkin's Night.

Dickie Grayson had been fat since he could remember -- not enormously so, but he had just always found video games more exciting than standing around sweating with his hand stuffed into a glove, waiting to get hit by a baseball that strayed into left field.

He had been an embarrassment to his parents, well-kept good-looking people each. When he was twelve, his dad had tried taking him with him jogging, which was just cruel. His only weapon to defend against perversity like that was "the voice" -- to complain in his most annoying screech-whine until his dad snapped back at him, "All right! Stay here and GET FAT, then!"

Exactly what Dickie wanted. The "stay there" part, anyway; and he didn't see the "get fat" part as too large a price to pay.

When he graduated high school, the video games were even fancier and better than ever, and work was as miserable as sports. He knew his parents were going to throw him out of the house one of these days, probably right after they made him get a job, but as long as he could hold them off with his screech-honed voice and his sullen demeanor, he was going to.

"Hey, Mom," he mumbled as he shambled into the kitchen for breakfast.

She was sitting at the table, but there was no plate being kept warm by the stove. There wasn't even a fry pan in the sink from where she had fixed eggs! "Oh, maaaaaaan! Didn't you fix breakfast?!" he turned to her.

She was just sitting there in the chair at the table, staring off into space. Looking goofy. Like she was stunned or something.

"I said, 'Didn't you fix breeeeeeaaakfast?!'"

She just continued sitting there, staring off.

He walked up to her. "What's wrooong with you?"

No response.

"Mom?" He lightly shoved her shoulder. "Mama?"

She shook as he pushed her, then just settled back into staring off. Her breathing seemed to be fine. Had she turned into some type of freaking goof? Had she fried her--

Wait a minute ....

Last night she and Dad had gone out with the Evansons to see some hypnotist's show or something.

Maybe ... she had ...

Dickie swallowed.

Maybe she had volunteered. And this guy had ... hypnotized her. And she had just now ... slipped back into a trance.

Suddenly, she didn't look so goofy, sitting there all stunned. She looked ... hot.

His Mom was only 35 (yeah, he had done the math -- shut up about it), and was incredibly well-kept. He knew she dyed her hair red, and once, after three days of pestering with "the voice" -- she had relented and told him that she was naturally a dishwater blonde, whatever that was. He like her better red.

She was ... one hot babe! Especially sitting here all vulnerable in a trance and everything!

Maybe ... maybe this hypnotist guy had thought so too, and given her a post-hypnotic command to come back to his dressing room after the show. Maybe ... she had been sitting here this morning, remembering how good it felt to be bent over and stuffed full of hypnotist's cock and just ... craved it so much she slipped back into the trance.

"Mom?" he checked one more time to make sure it was safe, "You BITCH." That should bring her out of it if she was faking.

Nothing.

He knelt beside her and ... cupped those tits with his hands.

God!

Squeeze.

Nothing from her -- just dull, staring accession to his feeling her up.

Oh, MAN! Yeah!

He untucked her blouse from her shorts, then reached up between her chest and the blouse to squeeze those bra-covered honeys!

She blinked.

Yeah! This was getting GOOD to her TOO! Feelin' the rush of getting her JUGS-

"Dickie?!" her face bunched up, aghast.

Then her palm clipped him across the cheek.

Dickie disentangled his forearms from her blouse, stood and backed up a couple steps. Shit.

"GOD?! What the HELL are you DOING?!"

"Nuthin'."

She stood up out of the chair and took a couple steps back from the boy. Then her mouth grimmed, and she hauled off and slapped him again. "You keep your hands OFF me, you little monster!"

"But Moooooom! You were just sitting here, staring off into space! I was trying to resuscitate you or somethin'!"

She jabbed her finger at him. "Don't you lie to me, Dickie!"

"Jeeeeez, I'm not lyin'! You were like a zombie or something."

"I can't BELIEVE you DID that! Dickie!"

"Well ... how'd I get my hands up your blouse without you stoppin' me, if you WEREN'T in a trance? Hmm?"

"Go. To. Your. Room. Now," she commanded him, voice clipped with indignation. "I am going to tell your father when he gets home, and ... and it's time you got a job, Dickie. It's time you got a job and moved out of this house."

"Maaaaaaaama," he grumbled.

"No. I have put up with you for eighteen and a half years. I don't have to do it anymore. You're moving out of here, young man."

With a sigh, Dickie turned and left the kitchen. Bitch. He suspected that even "the voice" wasn't going to get him out of this one.

---

Dickie Grayson was laying back on him bed, musing. Yeah, he was probably going to have to get his own place after this morning, but there were bigger things at stake here.

The bitch HAD been in a trance. She had been sitting there, staring off into space, wide open to suggestions.

And if Mrs Evanson had volunteered too, maybe SHE was slipping back into trances, as well. And she was just as hot as his mother!

Maybe ... maybe he would even have them do a little girl-on-girl action with each other for him if he got the chance!

His stomach rumbled. Time for his mid-morning snack.

Hey! That's right! He had missed breakfast because Mom had been such a bitch after she had caught him with his hands up her shirt. And then he had been too distracted thinking about the possibilities to remember to eat.

God, what was WRONG with him?! He really WAS famished! He got up and headed upstairs to the kitchen.

His Mom was there, washing the china in the sink. She was doing the "fall cleaning" thing -- which meant she kept bugging him too with cleaning chores.

"I didn't tell you you could come out, Dickie," she informed him over her shoulder.

"Sorry, Mom," he opened the fridge, "Geneva convention and all. Starvation's cruel and unusual. Ya gotta let the prisoners eat." He began shifting food items out and onto the counter, then got a plate and began loading up for his snack.

"I promise you, Dickie," she said as she went back to washing china, "you won't be a 'prisoner' in this house much longer."

It wasn't time for "the voice" yet. Let her get her bitching out of her system, then he'd start an aurally sculpted campaign of whining until she couldn't take the tone anymore and broke down and let him stay.

He carried his plate to the table, leaving the containers of leftovers on the counter, then began working the food into his mouth and down his esophagus, not unlike trying to wedge a couple t-shirts and bath towels through a gym-sock, into his waiting gut.

"Do you feel any shame at all for what you did this morning?" his mother interrupted him out of the blue when he was three-fourths done.

Dickie rolled his eyes, his mouth full: bitch.

He set the rest of his hoagie down, but it took several seconds for the food in his mouth and gullet to journey the rest of the way to his gut and clear the speaking-tube for speaking, so to, ehr ... speak.

"You are so UNFAIR to me!" he gasped when the final swallow cleared. "I was TRYING to SAVE YOUR LIFE! You were just sitting here, staring out into space! I thought you'd had a stroke or something! And I was trying to bring you out of it, and was going to call an ambulance if that didn't do it!"

He grabbed his soda and gulped down a half-pint to lube everything up in the belly.

"You've ALWAYS been unfair to me," he gasped when that was done going down. "You and Dad have ALWAYS treated me like I should be just like you. But I'm NOT! I'm my own person! And I don't WANT to have to do fall cleaning, or jog five miles everyday, or go to work eight-to-five. I want to be my own person!" So there.

He looked at her to see how she was taking this. He'd planned on letting her vent a little more before he started in on her with "the voice", but she'd just pissed him off with that "aren't you ashamed" crap.

She was standing there at the sink, looking out the window.

Water running, hands not moving.

"Mom?"

Nothing.

Ohgod! Ohgod! "Bitch?"

Nothing.

Goddam YES! Dickie left the rest of his hoagie and hopped up, scurried over to the entranced woman, and turned off the water. He opened his mouth, then shivered. God! He was ready to piss his pants with excitement here! He took a deep breath, then tried to continue without a quivering voice.

"Here-- here are some post-hypnotic commands for you.

"You want--" he swallowed, "you want to show your breasts to Dickie. You want to find some way to show them to him so bad that you don't know what to do."

He fidgeted with excitement. Don't forget to set up the future, he told himself -- wish for a million wishes, and all that. "And-- and anytime I say 'milkshake', you'll slip back into this trance and be totally open and receptive to everything I say!

"And-- and you'll just be my all-around sex slave! Anything Dickie wants, you'll let him do! Got that?"

He swallowed. Did that have everything?

Oh, yeah. "And you'll tell him the truth. You'll always answer truthfully every question he asks you. You'll be completely truthful. Got that?" Good safety net, that one -- he could always ask her if she was plotting to escape his clutches or anything.

She blinked. If this was like last time, that probably meant she was coming out of--

"Why did you turn the water off, Dickie?" she scowled at him standing beside her. "I was busy washing the china."

"No, you weren't. You were staring off into space again. Just like this morning. And I was trying to make sure you were okay again." He let his tone turn sarcastic, "And you'll notice that this time I didn't accidentally brush your breasts while I was trying to revive you."

"My, uhm ...," she looked down at them, "my breasts?"

"Yeah," he smiled with a little resentment. "See? Untouched."

She looked down at them again, then distractedly reached back toward the china and turned the water back on.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Dickie taunted her.

"I'm trying to think of some excuse to show you my breasts." Then her eyes widened, and she jerked her gaze toward him. "I mean-- uhm--"

YES! There WAS a god for fat people! And He was a kindly god!

"I mean, I shouldn't think such thoughts! But I'm ... trying to find some pretext to, uhm ... uncover them for you."

"Aww, that's okay, Mom. I'm okay with it," he raised both hands to tit-height, took a step toward her and rested each boob in a palm.

Her palm whacking against his cheek was unexpected and rattled him a little.

"Hey!" he scowled at her. "What's the matter with you?!"

"For Chrissakes, Dickie! You don't touch your mother that way!"

"You're supposed to be my sex slave!"

Her palm crossed his cheek yet another time. "Go to you room! You little-- !"

Okay, something had gone wrong. Time to fix it. "Milkshake."

"No! You've already stuffed your face. No more food. Go to your room! Right now, young man!"

"But--" But-- "But-- milkshake!"

She jabbed her finger toward the basement in case the boy had forgotten the layout of the house. "To your room! Now!"

He just stared at her. What had happened? Part of it seemed to have taken, at least for a few moments. But now, she was like some kind of screeching harpy. What was--

"Dickie! Go! To! Your! Room! Now! You! Are! Being! Punished!"

"What is WRONG with you, bitch?!"

She slapped him again.

Glaring at her, he headed to his room.

---

There was a knock on the door of Dickie's bedroom, then it opened, and his mother's face poked in. "Dickie, I need to dust in here. For the fall cleaning."

Bitch! First she screamed at him and sent him to his room; then she wanted to just barge in and dust. "Well, I don't want you to."

Her mouth drew to a line, and she cocked her head. "Well ... it's not your house, mister." She stepped in.

Dickie's eyes widened hugely.

She was still wearing her levi shorts, socks and tennis shoes. She still had that gorgeous red hair pulled back with a hair clip as she cleaned. But, instead of her blouse ... she was wearing some type of sheer lingerie cover.

With no bra on.

Her-- ! Her-- !

"M-Mom?!"

She turned to face him, feather duster in hand, and drew her shoulders back.

Her NIPPLES COULD BE SEEN through the sheer material!

"Yes?"

"Mom?! Your-- your-- blouse?! What happened?!"

She stood there, breasts unashamedly exposed through the lingerie. "I was trying to think of some way, some excuse, to show you my breasts. And I changed into this. I was going to tell you that I spilled water on the blouse and bra, and I didn't have anything else to change into than this teddy cover. I just-- I don't know. I wanted to show them to you." She swallowed hard. "And I have no idea why I'm telling this to you."

"They're GREAT, Mom!" He stood up and stepped toward her. She continued standing there with them on display.

"Well ... thank you. I'm still angry at you for the way you've been behaving today."

Dickie was moving around them, viewing them from every angle, and this caused her nipples to perk up just a little.

"They're WONDERFUL!"

"Thank you, Dickie."

"Can I touch them?"

"No! OF COURSE you can't touch them!"

"Why nooooot?!"

"Because that would be inappropriate! You KNOW that, Dickie! Why are you acting like this today?!"

"But isn't it just as inappropriate to SHOW THEM to me? Hmm?"

"I, uhm ...," she fidgeted, but didn't move to cover them. "Yes."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"I ... don't have an answer for that, Dickie." Still on display.

"Tell you what. I'll let you show them to me. And you let me squeeze them just a couple times." The hands came up in anticipation.

"No! Certainly not!"

"Milkshake."

"Why do you keep saying 'milkshake'?"

"Milkshake, milkshake, milkshake."

She sighed and tapped her foot. Breasts still exposed.

"Nothing?"

"I have no idea what gets into you sometimes, Dickie," Candace Grayson shook her head, her breasts still open for viewing by her son through the sheer lingerie top.

---

"I think you'd better pull on a bra and shirt."

Candace Grayson was in her son Dickie's room, with nothing at all on above the waist, posing around the room under the pretext of doing fall cleaning.

She had dusted his room earlier this morning in just a lingerie top, then had asked him if he wanted to have lunch with her. While she had been fixing her sandwich, she casually swiped the knife with mayonnaise on it over one nipple. "Oh, my. Look at what I've done now."

Dickie had looked. He had practically drooled. "Do it again! Do it again!"

"What?" She had raised one eyebrow. "This?" She had swiped the mayonnaise off the other side of the knife and around the erect nipple.

Normally she didn't encourage her son like this, lazy, pudgy little perv that he had turned out to be. But today she was just SOOOO enjoying keeping his eyes on her breasts.

"Let me," he had stood and stepped toward her, "let me spread the mayonnaise around on your breast -- pleeeeeease?"

"No!" she scowled and raised her hands to block him. "No! Now you behave, or you can go back to your room."

He dropped his hands, glaring at her. "Okay, Mother ... why DID you just smear mayonnaise around on your tit, then, if you--"

"Dickie, you WILL NOT speak of my 'tits'! Is that understood, young man? You will not be disrespectful of me, and you will not use profanity in front of me!"

"Why DID you just smear mayonnaise on your ... 'breast' ... Mother?"

"I wanted to dirty the lingerie top so I'd have an excuse to take it off and show you my breasts. With nothing at all covering them."

Dickie was grinning from ear to ear.

"I mean-- I-- Why am I telling you these things?"

"What? Are all your secret plans being let out of the bag?"

"I ... just ...."

"Well, go ahead and take it off and show them to me."

"What?" she looked at him, unsure.

"Okay," he sighed with a smirk, "we can do it your way. Gosh, Mother! You have mayonnaise all over your top. Maybe you'd better take it off." Confirming nod. "Before you get all sticky, or your skin gets irritated."

She stared at him several seconds, then chewed her lip a few moments, then opened and removed the teddy cover.

"Ohhhh! Those are NICE!" It was true. His mother was a babe.

"Th-thank you, Dickie," she said, subconsciously puffing her chest out for him.

"Are you sure I can't ... just ...," he had reached toward one of them.

"No!" she slapped the hand away.

Then they had gone back to Dickie's room, where she had enjoyed cleaning with nothing on above the waist the rest of the afternoon while Dickie had enjoyed watching.

"I think you'd better pull on a bra and shirt," Dickie repeated. "Dad's going to get home in a little while, and if he finds us together with you running around topless, he's going to beat the shit out of me."

Candace opened her mouth to chastise him for the profanity, but he was right. If Stephen caught her showing her breasts off to Dickie, he would not understand at all.

"Or you could leave the bra off, and that way you could flash me all night."

There was definitely something wrong with that idea, but ...

Damn, it sounded exciting!

She dressed for her husband, then started reheating the meatloaf. Stephen got home a little while later, kissed her, and headed back to the bedroom to change clothes.

"Hey, Mom. Flash me."

Candace looked at her son and shook her head, no. Stephen could be back out any moment, and something like that would ... not be explainable.

Chuckling at her nervousness, Dickie walked up stand in front of her. "Then just pull your blouse out in the front so I can look down it."

Candace gnawed her lip a couple seconds, then ... pulled her neckline open for him to look down.

Dickie ogled, then looked back up with a smug grin -- she HAD left off the bra for him!

"That's enough," she whispered nervously and let her neckline fall back in place. "Your father will be back out any moment."

"Nah. We're just having meatloaf. Reheated meatloaf at that. He'll take his good time."

"Dickie, that was just mean."

"Well, I don't see him rushing back out here. Do you?"

Stephen WAS taking a long time changing clothes, and a couple minutes later, Candace wandered back to see if he was okay.

He was standing at the closet, just looking inside when she walked in. "Stephen? What's taking so long?"

He just stood there, continuing to stare in the closet.

"Stephen?"

No response.

"Stephen? Are you okay?" she stepped to him and shook his shoulder.

Nothing.

"Stephen?!"

"Come on, you guys! Let's EAT!" Dickie came up the hall complaining.

"Dickie! Something's wrong with your father!"

Crap! Dickie hoped this didn't interfere with dinner! He stepped into their bedroom.

"He's not-- he's just standing here, not answering me!"

"Oh, cool!" Dickie stepped up to him. "Dad?" He gave him a little shove. "You with us, Dad?"

"Dickie, don't hurt him. What's wrong with him?"

"Nuthin' that we can't fix!" Dickie nodded his head, then turned back to his father. "Dad, no matter how angry you get, you won't try to hurt your son, understand?"

"Dickie ... what are you doing?" Candace asked him.

"And whenever Dickie asks you a question, you will answer with the whole, complete truth!"

"What are you doing, Dickie?"

"And--" God, Dickie was starting to brim with excitement about the possibilities here! "--and you don't mind if your wife and son fool around with teach other! In fact, it turns you on! It turns you on if they get naked with each other, or touch each other or do things with each other!"

"Dickie!"

"It turns you ON!" Dickie continued, ignoring his mother. "You WANT it to happen! Encourage it whenever you get the chance."

Her hand clipped Dickie's cheek again. "Dickie! Stop that! What is WRONG with him?!"

Stephen's eyes blinked, and he started moving again as she asked that.

"Stephen! Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, fine. Never better. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You were ... just standing here."

"Yeah, I was changing clothes."

"No, you weren't moving. You were just standing there, in front of the closet. Like you were stunned or something."

"I--" Stephen swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, "I what?"

"You were just ... standing in front of the--"

"How long was I like that?! Did either of you say anything to me?!"

"What-- what is going--"

"Candace, answer me! Did either of you say anything to me while I was like that?!"

"Dickie said a few things." They were too embarrassing to repeat.

"What did he say?!" He turned to Dickie, then halted, getting his anger and anxiety under control. "What did you say to me, Dickie?"

"Awwww ... nuthin' important," Dickie shook his head, a little smug grin on it, "Why you so worried about it anyway?"

"Because Paula and Angie, a couple of the girls at the office, did the same thing today, and Dave and I had seen the hypnotist's show last night, and we gave them some suggestions, and they did everything we told them to." He looked guiltily toward his wife.

"Gee, Dad ... what sort of suggestions would you give two office girls? Hmm?"

"To strip down to their underwear when they came into either of our offices, and to give us blowjobs when we asked for them," he blurted, then his eyes widened, and he grimaced and shrugged to Candace's glare.

"Oh, that's cool, Dad! How many times did you get blown?"

"Four," his mouth betrayed him.

Candace's slap clipped HIS cheek this time. "You ... BASTARD!"

"Candace, I-- I don't know how-- I mean, I don't know what-- came over us."

"That's okay, Dad. You'll never believe what Mom showed ME all afternoon!" Dickie was rather enjoying this.

"Dickie, leave the room," his mother snapped at him. "Your father and I have things to discuss before--"

"She was showin' me her tits all afternoon!"

"You ... WHAT?!" Stephen eyes grew wide at his wife.

"Dickie!" Candace snapped at him, "Language! And leave the room right now, or I will spank you, old as you are!" Then to her husband, "I did no such thing, Stephen. You, however, were ... getting-- with a SECRETARY-- God! I can't BELIEVE you would DO that, Stephen!"

"Hey, Mom, what were you wearing when you knocked on my door and asked to come in to dust?"

"I was wearing that sheer green cover from the teddy I got for our anniversary two years ago. Now leave, Dickie."

"And what did you do at lunch, Mom?"

"I pretended to accidentally get food on the teddy cover so I'd have an excuse to take it off and walk around topless in front of you all afternoon," her mouth betrayed her again.

"Hey, Mom, do you want to show me your breasts now?"

"So bad I can hardly stand it, Dickie."

All three were silent several uncomfortable seconds.

"Do it," Stephen whispered at last.

"What?!"

"Do it. Show them to him. Show Dickie your naked breasts! I WANT you to! It's OKAY! I don't mind!"

"Go to HELL!"

"C'mon, Mom, show me your titties!"

"Language, young man!" she jabbed a finger toward him.

"Dad's using it!"

"Your father," she turned back to stare Stephen down as she said this, "is a shit."

---

"C'mon, Mom, you know you want to show them to me. Remember how much fun you had running around this afternoon?"

Dickie, Candace and Stephen were sitting around the dinner table, the meatloaf nearly gone as Dickie consumed it while his parents glared at each other.

After a minute of silence, Dickie tried again, "C'mon, Mom. Show me. You can hardly stand NOT showing me."

"No." She did look at her son, though. "Dickie, this morning ... I was like your father, wasn't I? In a trance?"

"Twice!" Dickie grinned and nodded.

"You .,. hypnotized your own MOTHER, Dickie?!"

"Naw," he shrugged, "the hypnotist hypnotized you; I just took advantage of it."

She turned her head to look at her husband. "But ... we didn't volunteer last night ..."

"Show him," Stephen urged. "Take it off and show them to him."

"Shut up, pig." She turned back to her son. "Dickie ... what all did you tell me to do this morning?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he sing-songed.

"Dickie, tell me."

"Milkshake."

"Why do you keep saying that? Does it make me do something?" She turned her head toward her husband. "Am I doing something when he says that?"

"I know what I WISH you would do."

Candace shook her head, disgusted. "Is that all it took, Stephen? Him just giving you one little suggestion? Now you ... get off on ... thinking about me baring my breasts for Dickie?"

"Don't you?"

"That's beside the point. You want to see me just ... take this blouse off and show him my breasts?" She studied her husband, could see his erection straining at his pants. "You want to see me ... go up and let him feel them? Where does it stop, Stephen? Are you going to get off if I give him oral sex? What if I spread my legs for him? Does THAT get you HARD?!"

Stephen was slowly nodding, breathing deeply. "Do it," he whispered. "Yes. Do it. All of it. Please."

She turned to see Dickie, whose tongue was also hanging out his mouth.

"Never going to happen," she declared, and stood. "Nothing like that is ever going to happen."

She began carrying the dishes from the table to the sink to wash them.

It didn't look like anything interesting was imminent, so Dickie got bored and left.

Stephen just sat at the table a few minutes, then went to get a pop from the fridge.

"You need to shut that before you let all the cold air out, Stephen," Candace sighed as she finished the last of the dishes. You'd think the man was watching a TV in the refrigerator, he had spent so long staring in it.

"Did you hear me, Stephen?" she asked as she hung up the dish towels. "Stephen?"

Could ... it be? She walked up and shook his shoulder. "Stephen?"

Stunned, staring off at nothing.

Candace's eyes narrowed. "So ... you hypnotized those two office girls into fellating you, you sonofabitch? That is-- ! You are such a-- !"

She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Okay, Stephen, from now on, you cannot get hard, no matter how much you try, until I tell you, 'get all hard, Stephen.' What do you think of that, you little asshole? And as soon as I say, 'get all soft, Stephen,' all the blood will drain out of your damned little penis and refuse to return until I command it to. Got that? Asshole?"

"Hey Mom, what did you do with--" Dickie came loudly into the kitchen.

"Dickie, go to your room. Now!"

"What?"

"To your room! Now, young man!"

"Dad?" he called loudly.

"Dickie! I told you to leave!"

"Hey, you're reprogramming Dad! Cool! What did you tell him to do? Show his little weener to the neighbors?"

With a moment of great will, she managed to not tell her son. "None of your business! Now return to your room right now!"

Dickie stared right at his mother as he called, "Hey, Dad! Whenever you find Mom in a trance, the first thing you'll do is come get me! Got that?"

Candace slapped the boy across the cheek again, then glared at him.

He gave back a mean grin. "Just you wait." He smiled as he wandered back toward the basement. "Dad's going to come get me. And then you won't ever slap me again. You'll beg me to touch you, but you won't ever slap me again. So just you wait."

"What ... is ...," Stephen started blinking again. He shut the refrigerator door, but knew from how cold his face was that he had been standing there a while -- a longer while than he remembered.

"I ... did it again, didn't I? I slipped into a trance again, didn't I?"

Candace just glared at him.

"What did you tell me to do? Hungh?! What did you tell me to do, Candace?!"

She subtly shook her head and walked off.

"What did you DO to me?! What did you do?!"

---

"I can't stand it anymore," Candace walked into Dickie's room at about 10:00 in a sheer-topped nightgown, sat on his bed, reached up behind her neck and undid the upper part of the lingerie, then lowered it to expose her breasts. "Look at them. You can't touch them, but just ... look at them for me."

"Couldn't take it anymore, could you?"

"No," she sighed, breathing a little easier now that they were free for him to look upon. GOD, this felt good. But, "What ... else ... did you tell me to do, Dickie?"

"Hmm, why don't you tell me what you told Dad to do?"

It was easier to resist blurting this time.

"I ... can't, Dickie. It wasn't very nice, but I was angry about-- God, how could he order those two girls to fellate him?! Doesn't our marriage mean ANYTHING to him anymore?!"

"Uh, no, I don't think so, Mom. Not anymore. As a matter of fact, I think nowadays he gets off on you betraying him. Especially to his son."

"That wasn't funny, Dickie. We're going to have to fix that the next time he relapses into a trance."

"You know what WAS funny, though? Why you didn't already fix him when he was freezing his face off in the fridge. Musta had one hell of a revenge plan going there, Mom."

"We ... need to stop this, Dickie. I shouldn't be sitting here with you like this. You shouldn't have made him like things like that. And I shouldn't have ..."

"Shouldn't have what, Mom? What did you make Dad do?"

"Just something to keep him from abusing those office girls anymore."

"Hey, Dad! Come here!" Dickie brayed.

"Don't do that, Dickie. Or I'll leave."

"You won't leave. You can't stand NOT exposing your breasts to me."

"What is it, Dickie?" Stephen sighed as he came down the steps.

"Lookit! Mom's showing off her tits for me!"

"She-- oh-- God! Yes, Candace!"

"Stephen, you get out of here right now. You're not really turned on right now, it's just the suggestion that Dickie gave to you."

"Welllll," he moved around to get a good view of the display, "it's an awful good suggestion! Because ... damn, you look hot doing that, woman!"

"You don't think I'd let you watch, anyway, do you? Not after you fooled around with those two office girls today. Get the HELL out of here!"

"Mom," Dickie told her, "he stays. If he goes, I'm not going to look at you."

"Diiiickiiie!"

"No, he stays."

"You oughtta let him feel them," Stephen suggested.

"Yeah, you ought to let me feel them," Dickie agreed.

"No," Candace held her hand up, "we are not going there. And," she turned to her husband, "get all soft, Stephen."

The tenting in his pants collapsed.

"What-- ?! What did you DO to me?!"

"Try to shtoop one of those office girls now, why don't you?" she smirked.

"You ... evil ... bitch!"

"Aw, quit your whining, Dad. Just sit back and enjoy her showing them off for me."

Grumbling, Stephen sat and watched his wife show tit to Dickie. He guessed he was still feeling pretty excited about it, even without an erection in his pants.

Candace was a bit insulted at the treatment she was getting, but Dickie was right -- at the moment, she couldn't stand to NOT be showing her breasts off to him for long.

The family sat there about an hour, enjoying Candace's display for her son. Then Candace and Stephen headed upstairs to bed, and Dickie turned out the lights as well.

---

"Dickie," came a loud whisper in the dark.

"Mmmrrngh?"

"Dickie, hurry!" came the whisper again.

"Whuh?"

"I found your mother in a trance again, and I wanted to come tell you."

Dickie's eyes came open, his excitement clearing the sleep out of his head.

"Come on."

Dickie followed.

"I heard her go to the bathroom, but I never heard her come back. I went to check on her and found her sitting on the toilet, staring off into space."

"Cool."

The two men went into the master bathroom and, sure enough, there was Candace, squatted on the toilet, staring dully out into space again.

Two suggestions had failed last time, but Dickie decided to try them again, in case they might take this time. "Mom, anytime I say 'caramel', you'll re-enter a trance. Got that?"

"Good one," his father nudged him, then started with his turn to make a suggestion, "Candace, you will--"

"And you will be my willing sex slave, Mom," Dickie talked over his father. "Whatever I tell you to do or to feel, you will obey."

"Yesssss," Stephen whispered, "make the bitch do all kinds of things with you!" He might not have an erection, but he could still get excited about the bitch fooling around with Dickie! Now, his turn: "Candace, you will--"

"And talking dirty makes you HORNY!" Dickie enthusiastically steamrolled over his father. "Dirty words just slip out of your mouth, and it makes you hornier and hornier every time they do. And GOD you get hot when someone else speaks dirty to you!"

"That's very good, Dickie. But now it's my turn to make a suggestion," Stephen whispered. He wanted control of his own penis back. Otherwise he was going to look pretty silly tomorrow with those programmable office girls, but unable to produce an erect penis. "Candace, first thing in the morning, you--"

"AND you wanna run around naked, Mom! You want to show EVERYTHING! And you want Dickie to touch ALL your good parts! And you want him to--"

Candace's eyes fluttered.

"Oops. That's it, Dad," Dickie yanked his father back out of the bathroom by the wrist.

"But I still haven't made MY suggestion to her!"

"Sorry, Dad. There's only so much we can program her with before she wakes up each time. Tonight, my stuff was all more important than your stuff."

"But--"

"It's better this way, Dad. Hurry back into bed, and she won't even know we messed with her again."

Irritated that he was going to have to keep his soft penis now, Stephen crawled back into bed, and Dickie headed for the basement.

A minute later, Stephen heard Candace return to bed beside him, not even suspecting she had just been reprogrammed.

If he'd been able to get erect, he would have ejaculated with excitement right then and there.

---

Candace made a point of getting up with Stephen the next morning. Just in case he misunderstood anything, she wanted to make sure he had everything straight: "Get all soft for me, Stephen," she told him in a sweet voice, "Like a good little boy, won't you? Now you keep it like that for me all day today."

Stephen had woken up without an erection anyway this morning, but still resented her yanking his chain like that. "Yeah, you just show off for your own son today, bitch. And by this evening ..."

I ought to mute him, Candace thought. A trigger phrase that would shut him up on command, so she wouldn't have to hear him bitch like this.

Next time she caught him tranced off, she would do just that.

He finished his petulant tirade and left, then Candace had the urge to just pad around the house naked today, to just let Dickie look at ... everything.

But she couldn't do that. He was her own son, for godssake.

Tits were all he was going to see.

Breasts -- she meant breasts. Breasts were all he was going to see.

Normally Dickie slept until 10:00 these days, but Candace was already yearning to strut around in front of him. She looked at the clock: 7:30. Somehow, though, she doubted he'd be too pissed if she woke him toplessly.

Especially if she also had breakfast ready.

She walked back to the bedroom to change clothes. If she was going to strut around in front of Dickie all day, she might as well dress the part. She removed the robe she had used to prevent Stephen from being able to see her body -- that asshole didn't DESERVE to see her after what he did yesterday.

She pulled on a bubblegum-pink thong she had bought to turn Stephen on about a year ago, and flossed the straps up between her butt cheeks. Then she pulled on a pair of black fuck-me pumps -- another bedroom tease for Stephen, who didn't even appreciate it enough to keep from boffing the office help.

Dressed like that, she strolled back to the kitchen and started cooking eggs and sausage.

"What a chef you make, Candy," Dickie said from the kitchen doorway a couple minutes later, "topless and in heels. God, you look hot, bitch."

Her son's approval gave her more of a rush than she expected. But, "You, uhm ... shouldn't call me Candy, Dickie. It's ... not respectful ... And don't ... call me ... bitch ...." Shiver.

Dickie took note of the way the word "bitch" made it hard for her to think -- cool! But first things first. "Breakfast." He stepped to the table and sat, waiting to be served.

Candace leaned forward to show her tits off to best aspect as she served Dickie his eggs and sausage, then stepped back. "Do you like my outfit this morning, Dickie?"

"S'posed to be naked."

"No, we already went over that. I'm not going to do that. And you can look but not touch. And as soon as--"

"Syrup. You forgot the maple syrup."

Candace retrieved the maple syrup for him and took a seat.

Dickie forced the food into his mouth, occasionally dumping it with a swallow into his gullet, while he ogled her naked bust.

This made Candace's nipples perk up -- a fact that did not go unnoticed by Dickie. She was getting off on this!

"Take off the g-string," Dickie told her. Actually, it was mumbled around the baseball-sized mass of food in his mouth, so it sounded more like, "Egg offuh eastun."

Candace had learned to make out her son's food-muffled words in the last eighteen years. "No, I told you: you get to see my tits, nothing else. And no feeling anything, either."

"Ah-uhl."

"What?"

Big swallow. "I said, caramel."

"You want some caramel? I think that would be kind of nasty on the sausages, Dickie."

"No, listen: caramel."

She waited a moment for him to continue and make sense, then shrugged. "Caramel."

"This isn't working."

"What's not working?"

"You're supposed to go back into a trance when I say the word caramel."

"Go back into a trance? Oh, Dickie, don't you dare. I told you that you could look at my boobs, young man. Don't you DARE go trying to plant more suggestions in my mind! Understand?"

"Don't you find yourself wantin' me to touch things today?"

"Not at all! I've already told you. You can look at my titties. And," she stood, made sure her thong was still flossed up between her ass cheeks, then turned around and wiggled her ass at him, "and you can admire me when I'm wearing sexy clothes. But I'm not going naked in front of you. And you're not to touch ANYTHING."

She sat back down and a minute or two of silence passed. Well, except for Dickie's slurping noises as he devoured the rest of the eggs and sausage.

Something was filtering these suggestions, Dickie thought. The stronger ones, like being his sex slave, were getting ignored. So was the one about falling back into a trance upon command, though he had seen hypnotists give exactly that suggestion before. At least the smaller suggestions seemed to be taking, though.

Finally, he poured down liquid to lube up everything in the gut and stared at her. Her nipples were still excited. He smiled -- they were even more so now that he was staring at them.

---

"Mom, you ever fooled around on Dad?"

"What?!"

"Simple question. You were pissed off because he banged those two office sluts, but ... have YOU ever cheated on HIM?"

"Three times." Her eyes widened after that was out of her mouth, and she blushed from face to bosom. "Dickie, you shouldn't ask me things like that."

"Tell me about them," Dickie grinned.

"Dickie, I don't think we should--"

"Tell me about them, bitch."

"Two ... two of them were trainers at the gym. The third was one of your father's coworkers."

"So ... you're not really any better than those two office bitches that sucked Dad off? Spreading for the guys at the office?"

"I am NOTHING like them! It was at an office New Year's party, and I ... got a little tipsy. And did something stupid."

"Bringin' in the New Year right," Dickie nodded arrogantly. "So ... did ya ever tell Dad about it? You know, clear the conscience and all that?"

"I ... I couldn't. Brian was ... your father's competition. They had competed for the same positions twice, and Brian beat him out both times."

"Bendin' OVER for the enemy! Tell me more."

"There's not much to tell. I, uhm ... started off making some catty remarks to him at the start of the party. Then he ... told me he would have me before night's end. I laughed at him, but he just kept ... staring at me the whole rest of the night. And I kept trying to ignore him. And, unfortunately, drinking.

"Then he ... came up to Stephen and me and went on about how, despite losing at the jobs, Stephen had won at what really mattered most. Me."

"Gee, what a line. And that made you just butter your panties with juices, didn't it?"

Candace shut her eyes and felt a shiver tickle through her at the crude language. "I did, just ... butter my panties." Another shiver.

"So? Go on."

"About 11:30, I went to look him up. I wanted to ... apologize for being so catty earlier, and to thank him for being such a man about things. I was ... too drunk to resist him when he pulled me off into a side room. And then he startled me by kissing me, and--"

"Were you red at the time?"

"What?"

"Were you dyeing your hair red at the time?"

"Yes."

"Red-headed bitch!" Dickie sing-songed arrogantly. "Please, continue."

"Well, at midnight I was bent over the back of a sofa, Brian taking advantage of me from behind, his hands up the front of my blouse to squeeze my titties. I, uhm, wasn't caring who heard me as I kept gasping, screaming, Brian's name."

"Mom!" Dickie grinned, "You're a screamer!"

"Yes," she blushed head and bust, "I, uh ... can get quite vocal during sex."

"*I'VE* never heard you?!"

"That's because I've been careful not to get loud here at the house since you turned out to be such a little pervert. I mean, back when your room was upstairs, I knew that if I screamed in the bedroom even once, you would be in there whacking your little weener, fantasizing about all kinds of nasty things." Candace shivered slightly at her own words.

"So ... Dad still had a little self-esteem left before that night. Even though he had lost two jobs to this creep, he still had the prize that mattered. But then you carried the prize to this Brian guy and spread it, for him to mark his territory with his semen just in time for the new year. Is that about it?"

Candace's eyes flared at him. "I had had a little too much to drink!"

"Anybody catch you two love bugs shtooping and getting shtooped at the stroke of midnight?"

"I think ... the, uhm ... hostess came in around the middle there. There was a, uh, female gasp while I was clawing at the sofa."

"Caught doing the dirty," Dickie sing-songed. "Did you pause the infidelity long enough to see who it was, or did you just go ahead and complete the act?"

"I told you, I had had too much to drink. And we were ... very close to ..."

"Completing the betrayal?"

Candace's hand slapped Dickie's cheek again.

Dickie glared at her. "Well, did you?"

"I came right after that."

"And got marked as the enemy's semeny bitch."

"Uh, no, not yet. I came two or three more times before Brian finally ejaculated into me."

"The enemy's slutty semeny bitch, then. Screaming ecstatically the whole time?"

Candace looked down. "Screaming ecstatically the whole time."

---

Dickie stared at her a minute before speaking again. "You get off on being ashamed, don't you?"

"What?!"

"Look how stiff your nipples are. This is making you all hot."

Candace looked down and, indeed, they were standing at attention. She covered them with her palms. "Dickie, I don't think we should--" She stood and stepped back from the table. "I don't think we should talk about things like this."

"Hey!" he called as she left toward her bedroom. "We're not done here." He wanted her to fry up two more eggs for him.

Oh well. He went to the fridge, got out the cake they'd had for dessert night before last, cut himself a four-inch wedge, then left the cake on the counter and took his slice to the table to devour.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Dickie forced the last of the cake wedge into his mouth, then went to answer it.

"Ar-er!" It was Arthur, one of Dickie's co-hecklers back in high school, and there was a gorgeous babe standing behind him.

Big swallow. Dickie's throat bulged a moment, then he smiled.

"Hey, man, how are you doing? Come on in." His eyes never left his friend's hot bitch.

"Hey, Dickie. Let me ask you, have you noticed people acting strangely lately?"

Dickie looked from the babe to Arthur. "You mean, like, people doing what they're told?"

Arthur noticed Dickie's eyes move back on the female. "Exactly. Dickie, have you met my mother? She goes to the same gym as your mom."

"Wow! Mrs Venturi! Hi! You look ... GREAT!"

Alice Venturi had dark, shoulder length hair. Like Dickie's mom, she kept well fit by working out at the gym, as evidenced by her figure as she stood there in four-inch heels and an aqua bikini.

"Ehr ... hi there. Dickie, is it?"

Dickie squeezed the tire around his belly. "In the flesh!"

"You're, uhm ... you're Candace's kid?"

"Since I was born."

"Aren't you a little roly-poly to belong to her?"

Dickie's smile left like the front windshield collapsing in a car wreck.

"Don't be mean, Mom," Arthur told her. "Please don't get pissed, Dickie. She can't help it. I suggested that she blurt out the truth so I could always know what she was thinking."

"Hmph," Dickie sniffed. "I told MY Mom to just answer all my questions truthfully. That way mine can still be taken out in public without being an embarrassment."

Mrs Venturi stuck the tip of her pinkie the corner of her mouth. "I've done it again, haven't I, Arthur?"

"I'm afraid you have."

Mrs Venturi turned around and cocked her ass out. "You'd better spank me for it, then."

Arthur looked at Dickie and smiled. "Another suggestion."

Mrs Venturi stood there, poised partially over, ass awaiting its firm reprimand.

"I ...," Dickie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry with excitement, "I like that one!"

"It wasn't me you offended, Mom. It was Dickie. I think you should apologize to him."

Mrs Venturi waddled about to face ass to Dickie. "I'm sorry, Dickie. Perhaps you should spank me so that I know better in the future."

Mouth still dry, Dickie smack-grabbed Mrs Venturi's ass.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

He brought his hand back and smack-grabbed her ass again.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"Don't cum, man," Arthur chuckled at his friend's excited nervousness. "Where's your mom?"

"Hey, Mom! Haul it out here!" Dickie brayed.

Smack-grab.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"Yes, Dickie?" Candace walked out, chest proudly on display for her son. Then shrieked. Covered. Covered one forearm over her breasts. Covered the other spread hand over her thonged crotch. Gasped. "I ... ehr ..." Backed up.

"Oh, Candace! You too!" Mrs Venturi moved out of her bent-over position to follow Candace back from the kitchen into the living room. She managed to get ahold of the redhead's shoulders and tug her towards the sofa. "Isn't it just awful?! We just can't help ourselves!"

---

"You-- you're affected too, Alice?" Candace asked, breasts still uncomfortably barely covered, but needing to know. "What's going on?!"

"I've gotten four to take," Arthur said quietly beside Dickie.

"What?"

"I've gotten four suggestions to take on her. The dressing in bikini; the blurting out what she's thinking; the asking for spankings; and one other."

"What's the other one?"

"You'll see in a minute. It was how I was able to get her over here. How about you? What suggestions have you gotten to take?"

"Not all of them work. I tried giving her a key phrase to put her back under, but the phrase hasn't had any effect on her yet."

"I know. Me too. And the more outrageous ones don't seem to take, either." Arthur stopped when he had spoken that aloud. "I mean--" Because getting your mother to present ass for spanking whenever she thinks she's offended you *IS* a little outrageous. But the MORE outrageous ones didn't seem to take.

"I know what you mean. The smaller suggestions are more likely to take than the bigger suggestions. I guess 'be my sex slave' never really had a chance."

"Shame, too, that."

"I know. Mom would make a great sex slave."

"That she would."

Mrs Venturi was sitting on the couch, leaning toward Candace. Candace was sitting there leaning back from Mrs Venturi's slow approach. They were muttering some female nonsense or other.

"Is everyone that went to see that magician affected this way? If so, there are a couple teachers from high school I'd like to bang. And a couple cheerleaders."

"Now that's an interesting question. I stopped by Charlie's before coming here. You know his older sister, Elaine? Blonde, big--" Arthur made cupping gestures in front of his chest, and Dickie grinned and nodded. "She graduated college last year and got married. Well, Charlie's got her turned into a ditzy bimbo that sits on his lap and loves to get her tits pawed. He had her on his lap, his hand reached up under her blouse, just a cuppin' and a squeezin'."

"Man, I'm going to have to pay a visit to Charlie!"

"Thing is, though: he swears she wasn't AT the magician's show."

Dickie frowned.

"He swears she was with him and his mother all night, sobbing about how her new hubby is doing her wrong. Then yesterday, he just walked down to breakfast and found her and his mother staring off into space."

"That's just stupid. The magician could only do this to people that WENT to see his show. Charlie's just lying for some reason."

"Then-- too-- Dickie, I didn't go to see the magician, either."

"Naw, you didn't have to if you're an order-giver. Just the order-takers would have had to--"

"Hey! Hey! HEY!" Candace slipped off the couch from being almost pinned to its arm by Mrs Venturi leaning so far forward. "I don't need comforting like THAT!"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me," Mrs Venturi was reaching for Candace's forearm-covered breasts. Candace slapped her paws away a couple times, exposing a great deal of nipple until Mrs Venturi slipped one hand through and squeezed a tit. "OhGOD these are nice, Candace!"

Candace lightly slapped Mrs Venturi's cheek.

Mrs Venturi still had her hand cupped under Candace's tit and, with a grin, gave another squeeze.

Candace stepped back, a shocked look on her face as she slapped Mrs Venturi's still-enthusiastic hands away, then fled to her bedroom.

"I can't HELP it, Candace," Mrs Venturi called after her. "It's just the suggestion that Arthur planted in my brain! It's not my FAULT. It's the hypnotic SUGGESTIONS." Then she walked over to the boys with a smug grin.

"Cop some good feels, Mom?" Arthur asked.

With a smile, Mrs Venturi nodded. "Your mother has a GREAT body, Dickie!"

"That was the fourth suggestion: she likes girls now," Arthur explained to Dickie, then asked his mother, "Did you get excited?" He stepped a little closer to her.

"Yeeeeaaaaah."

"Real ... excited?" Arthur traced one hand up to cup Mrs Venturi's aqua-covered breasts.

"Arthur," she cleared her throat, "I think you're getting a little frisky."

"Mom! Don't!"

"Maybe you ought to go relieve yourself."

"Dammit!" Arthur looked from side to side. "Dickie, where is your bathroom?!" He continued straining to look.

Dickie frowned. "It's up the--"

"Shit! Oh shit!" Arthur ran to the corner of the room, facing away, unzipped and reached both hands down to his crotch.

"My cute little boy," Mrs Venturi nodded, admiring him.

"What's he --" Ohgod, he was half bent over, grunting, and it looked like he was-- "What's he DOING?!"

"He's taking the edge off his sex drive. So he doesn't do anything stupid. Like cup my tit."

With a last grunt, Arthur stood up, looking relieved and zipped, then turned and walked back to them. He had apparently fired into his palms, because he wiped them on the sides of his t-shirt, leaving fresh jism-stains there.

"Whew! THAT feels better!"

Arthur followed Dickie's horrified gaze to the stains on his t-shirt. "Aww, Mom! You made me do it again, didn't you?! DAMmit!"

Mrs Venturi stuck her pinkie tip in the corner of her mouth, then turned to face away from her son and cocked her ass out. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Perhaps you should spank my ass so that I know better in the future."

Shaking his head, Arthur smack-grabbed his Mom's butt.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"She just-- you--" Dickie was still quite horrified.

"She tells me to go relieve myself. And I ... do." Smack-grab.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"Man, that's ... horrible!"

"Even more horrible, Dickie: I didn't go to the magician's show."

Dickie scowled: that made no sense. "Then you go whack off in the corner because ... you WANT to?!"

"No! I can't help it! It's a suggestion my mother planted in me." Smack-grab.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"She planted that suggestion in me. It somehow took. But I was never at the magician's show."

"But then ... that would mean ..."

"Something else other than the magician is causing all this."

Dickie was a little distracted by Mrs Venturi bent over, enjoying her spanking. "That's ... crazy." He reached out to squeeze her cheek.

"Hey, hey!" Mrs Venturi looked over her shoulder. "You're getting a little frisky, Dickie. Maybe YOU ought to go relieve yourself."

"Ha, ha!" Dickie gave his mock-laugh of power and domination. "I am immune to your powers, woman."

"Then quit," she pulled his hand off her butt, "feeling my ass up, little fat boy!"

Dickie's cheeks reddened with anger.

Arthur quickly decided that if he had her let Dickie spank her, she might wind up with bruised ass cheeks, so he moved the conversation along. "We're heading over to Jessica's next."

"The cheerleader?!"

"Ex-cheerleader. She cheered in high school. She hasn't gone out for the team at college yet."

"Man, I bet her Daddy has her doing naked cheers for him now!"

"That," Arthur nodded, "is what I'm hoping for. Come along, Mom. Nubile young tit-flesh awaits us."

"Oh, goody!" she followed him to the door and out.

---

Candace was in her bedroom, standing in front of her mirror, not believing that Alice Venturi had just tried to grab her breasts.

She, apparently, was under the power of her son's suggestions as well.

Candace had the waist of her thong pinched between thumb and forefinger and was very slowly tugging it down to just ... so.

That's what it would look like if ... she showed Dickie just the barest hint of pubic hair.

Not that she wanted to encourage the little pervert, but ... well, for some reason the thought of doing that was getting her excited today. Not fully naked, of course -- he was her son. But ... just the barest hint of fur.

She wondered if he had somehow slipped another suggestion or two in on her.

She sighed. What could Alice Venturi have been thinking?! If that was from one of her son's suggestions, she sure wasn't trying very hard to resist them.

Unlike Candace herself, who at least was drawing some lines she would not cross -- she wasn't going to go naked, and she wasn't going to let him feel anything. At least she had SOME willpower.

She was practicing lowering her thong again when the phone rang, and she answered it, "Hello?"

"Hi, Candace."

"Stephen."

"I called to apologize for what I did with those two secretaries yesterday. I shouldn't have done that."

"Apology accepted. I still have quite a bit of resentment -- and feelings of betrayal -- but apology accepted."

"And on the flip side, you have no business showing your breasts to Dickie. And I forgive you."

Candace stayed silent while she tapped her foot. Stephen had just re-lost any points he had gained the moment before.

"My point is this. Strange things are happening. And we both need to be mature adults about them. And I think it would be a sign of maturity on your part if you--"

"I'm not giving you your penis back, Stephen."

"Caaaandaaaace! It's not fair. I can't get a hard-on because of what you did, and everyone's making fun of me because of it."

"I don't care. You're not responsible enough to be allowed to have a hard-on."

"Candace! You let me get erect, right now!"

"No."

"Candace!"

"Is that all you called to talk about, Stephen?"

"Candace ... pleeeeeease?"

"What are you going to do with it if I let you have one? Go shtoop one of those office whores?"

"Well ... yeah."

"Get all soft for me, Stephen, get all soft for me, get all soft for me."

"You bitch!"

She hung up on him.

Turd.

---

"Hey, Candy!" Dickie opened her bedroom door and barged in as she was practicing with her thong, eliciting a squeal of surprise from her. "Didn't the Evansons go with you and Dad to the hypnotist's show?" He stared blatantly at her nipples and watched them perk up as he did so.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, they went with us."

"And haven't I heard you say that Mr Evanson is a pervert?"

"I've seen him ogle a few girls at the gym."

"Hmm. Don't you think we'd better go check on her? If she's been slipping back into trances with that pervert around, she may need our help."

The boy had a point. But ... "No."

"Why?"

"Because then I'd have to cover up my breasts, and you wouldn't be able to look at them," she blurted. "Erh ... I mean ... it's just that ...,." Oh hell, that WAS what she meant.

"It's okay, Mom. You can wear a tank top without a bra, so you can pull it forward and let me look down your shirt every now and then."

"I think ... I'd rather stay here where you can look at them without anything covering them." Plus, if she practiced just a little more, she would do the "expose the teensiest bit of pubic hair" thing.

"Well," he shrugged, "I'm going. You're welcome to come or not."

"Oh, come on, Dickie. Let's just stay here and look at my breasts."

"Nope. Mrs Evanson is our friend, Mom. I for one, am not going to desert her."

"Dickie, you know I don't want to stay here without you."

"Then pull on a tank top and let's go."

A few minutes later, Candace was walking out bralessly in a tank top, thong and heels with Dickie.

"You drive," he told her.

They got in the car.

"Hey, Mom, before we get started, show me your tits," Dickie told her.

Candace pulled out the front of her tank top and let Dickie look down and watch her nipples harden. She thought about pulling her thong down, but she only wanted to show him the barest amount of pubic hair and didn't want to accidentally show too much. She was not about to go naked for the boy. She still held some standards and was going to stand by them, hypnotic suggestions or not. So she decided to wait until she had practiced enough.

"Okay," he looked back forward again. "We can go now."

Candace put the car in gear and started toward the Evansons.

They stopped at a red light, and Dickie noticed a girl sitting on a bench at a bus stop there, staring off into space. She wasn't bad looking, and he was half-tempted to jump out and go whisper some suggestions in her ear, but as he watched, she blinked, then looked around. Shame, to let a trance go to waste like that.

He looked back forward, and the light was green. "We can go now, Mom."

He looked at her.

Hot damn, yes! She was in a trance again!

"Listen, Mom," he tried to keep his excitement under control, "You're going to want to kiss Dickie, you want to neck with him so , you want to swap spit with him, you want to stick your tongue down his throat."

Breathe. breathe.

Actually, since the suggestions had to be smaller to take -- since the all-encompassing ones seemed to just bounce off -- it somehow made the smaller ones even more exciting!

"Also, you LOVE Dickie's fat. It turns you on *SO* much to rub your hands over it and touch it that you just can't help yourself."

She blinked. That meant she was coming out of--

Oh, shit! Don't forget the reason they were going to the Evansons! "Girls, Mom! You like girls! Naked girls get you really hot, and you want to kiss Mrs Evanson!"

"Dickie ... did you just ... tell me to like girls?"

"No ... I don't think so."

"I slipped into a trance again, didn't I, Dickie? And you ... told me to like girls?"

"Gosh, Mom, I would never take advantage of--"

"Because I don't WANT to like girls." She pointed her finger at him. "Dickie, don't you DARE suggest to me that I like women, understand me? That is not a place I want to go, so don't you DARE try to push me there!"

"Gotcha, Mom, gotcha. No lesbo."

"No, none of it. Understood?"

"Gotcha." Grin of innocence.

She started the car forward and continued to the Evansons.

---

Angie swayed her hips as she walked up the hall. Yesterday everyone had been very careful to undress and boff each other only inside private offices. Today everyone had already received suggestions from spouses or from lustful admirers, so if her clothes were in a little disarray -- you know, a tit hanging out here, or your thong flossed up a little too far between your ass cheeks -- well, noone really bothered to fix stuff like that today.

She knocked on Mr Grayson's door and waited a moment to give him a chance to pull his pecker out of Mary if he had her bent over a desk in there -- although, it sounded from the rumors like his wife had taken his penis away last night. Poor little guy couldn't get hard for the life of him.

She opened the door and stepped in and ....

... Mr Grayson was sitting at his desk, staring off into space.

Before she even had a chance to think about it, words tumbled out of her mouth, "Mr Grayson, you want to share your wife with other men. You want to bare the slut in public, you get SOOOOOO excited to have her pussy wet down with the spunk of other men."

She then instructed him that if he came across any man in a trance, he would issue the same words to him; and if he came across any woman in a trance, he would tell her that she would get SOOOO turned on baring her breasts and ass and pussy, letting them feel things, until they made her shiver with pleasure as they unloaded jism into her.

These were the same instructions that Mr Buchanan had given Angie yesterday, along with the instruction to pass them on.

Anyway, when she was done with her auto-response, Mr Grayson was still sitting there, staring off into space. With a giggle, Angie decided to do the poor little guy a favor. "Mr Grayson, you don't have to be hard to cum. You can still get real excited, even when you're soft. And if Angie tells you, 'Cum for me, baby,' you'll instantly orgasm."

Actually, there was no reason she couldn't make her own life a little easier too. "Also, Angie is your favoritest office girl. You'll do ANYTHING for her! Even ... even leave your wife and shower Angie with any gifts she wants. And you just love to lick her toes, to get your tongue threaded in between them and clean them out all happy and fresh, and until Angie tells you that--"

Oops, his eyes were fluttering. It looked like he was coming out of it.

"Here are the Dexter reports," she smiled as she handed him a folder.

He was just staring at her ....

Looking at her in a whole new light ....

Then he looked at her feet. "Angie ... have I ever commented on how beautiful your toes are?"

Giggle. "Are they?"

He dropped to his knees on the floor. "They are the toes of a goddess. Let me ... let me worship them."

Angie giggled as she stepped out of her heels and let her feet be tongue-cleaned.

---

When Janine Evanson answered her door, she was wearing a hip-length white lace teddy; white four-inch strappy heels; her hair was in pigtails; in her left hand she held a large, partially-licked lollipop; and her right thumb was inside her mouth.

"Janine?!" Candace was shocked. "What-- ?! How-- ?! Who did this to you?!" It HAD to be some sort of hypnotic suggestion.

Janine pulled her thumb out of her mouth. "Daddy did this to me." She stuck the thumb back in.

"You mean Bill?! Bill did THIS to YOU?!"

Thumb out. "Yes, Bi-- Bi--" frustration showed in her eyes, but she calmed herself and tried again, "Bi--" Sigh. "Yeah, him. Daddy did this to me! That bastard." Thumb in.

"Wow, Mrs Evanson," Dickie grinned, "You look HOT!"

Thumb out. "Don't you start in, Dickie." Thumb in.

"How, Janine? How did Bill do this to you?" Candace asked. This was much more extreme than what Dickie had done to her.

"I don't know. Sometime I guess I started daydreaming or something. And when I came back, Bi-- Bi-- (foot stamp) Daddy was smirking. And then I had these urges to ... do things. Like the pigtails. And the thumb sucking. And the lollipop."

"Janine, this is--" Candace shook her head, feeling for her friend's predicament. "Oh, you poor thing."

"Let's step inside, before the neighbors see me like this. And decide to take advantage of me later."

Candace and Dickie followed Janine into her living room and sat on the sofa. Janine sat in her babydoll on the coffee table, thumb parked in mouth.

"Really, Mrs Evanson, you look AWESOME like this!" Dickie grinned and nodded.

"Shut up, Dickie," Candace told him. Then to Janine, "How could someone do something like this to their own wife?! I can't believe Bill is being such a prick!"

Janine's eyes widened, and she pulled her thumb out of her mouth. "P-prick?! Bi-- Bi-- (frustrated foot stamp) Daddy's not a prick." She took several nervous licks of her lollipop. Thumb in.

"Mom! YOU ought to be like this!"

"I told you to shut up, Dickie. Janine, how many suggestions has he made to you?"

Thumb out. "I don't know. There are the pigtails. And the lollipop. And my mouth feels empty now until I have my thumb or a cock in it."

"Shut up, Dickie," Candace cut him off before he could even say anything.

"And Bi-- Bi-- Daddy also made me so I cum any time he squeezes my tits."

"Oh, I GOTTA see this!" Dickie started forward with hands at tit height for Mrs Evanson's orbs.

"Dickie! Don't you DARE!" Janine shrieked and brought hands and forearms forward to block him.

"Dickie!" Candace grunted as she grabbed his belt and tried to tug back, "Cut it out!"

One of Dickie's hands managed to get around the slapping hands and forearms to press boob. Janine gasped and arched her back, unintentionally thrusting breasts forward. It became a lost battle after that: Dickie's hands both cupped tit and brought about gasps with every good squeeze.

Candace was yanking her son back by his belt to no effect, so reached around his belly to try to throw the boy off balance and let--

Oh.

Wow.

Dickie's fat felt so ... GOOD!

Candace spread her fingers wide and gently squeezed the blubber.

Ohgod.

That felt ... erotic.

She-- she moved her hands around to ... feel some more.

With a chuckle, Dickie even stopped groping the moaning pigtailed woman. "Yeah, the ole rolls of fat are starting to feel pretty good to you, aren't th--"

---

"What are you two smirking about?!" Dickie grumbled. Both his mother and Mrs Evanson were looking at him with smiles in their eyes.

"Oh, nothing," Candace said lightly.

Janine took her thumb out of her mouth. "How are ya feelin' about now, Dickie? Hmm?" Thumb in.

"Like you two are a mite too pleased with yourselves. What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing," Candace continued smiling.

"You HAVE to tell me -- I gave you a suggestion, Mom. You HAVE to."

"I was able to resist that suggestion, Dickie. And it gets easier every time I do it."

"Tell me," Dickie reached for Mrs Evanson's boobs. Before she could get her thumb out of her mouth to block him, he'd squeezed tit, and she started cumming.

Candace found herself on the face end instead of the ass end of her son as he milked orgasms out of her best friend this time, so she slapped him hard across the cheek.

"OW!"

"Quit making her cum, you little prick!" Candace got her pointed finger in Dickie's face while Janine started to catch her breath from gasping. "How can you *DO* that to her?! After the smug prick that her husband is being?!"

"But-- I--"

"Go. To. The. Car. Now!"

"But-- ?!"

"Dickie! Now!"

He glared at her a minute, then decided he would just fix her attitude the next time she zoned off, make her a little more amenable to the good stuff. Still keeping up a show of being pissed, though, he stomped out to the car.

Candace came out a minute or two later, got silently in the car, and neither of them spoke the whole way home.

Candace pulled into the driveway and parked, then just paused, her hands on the steering wheel.

Dickie sighed. Here it came. She was going to get all motherly and bitchy again. Well, he'd already decided that he'd just keep on implanting--

Candace reached over, grabbed Dickie's love handles and fondled, startling him. Not meeting his eyes, she ran her hands over them, gently squeezing.

Then she jerked her hands back, got out of the car and went into the house.

All riiiiight! With a chuckle, Dickie followed.

The rolls of fat were gettin' good to the bitch!

---

With feet clean and glistening, Angie dropped to her knees in front of Stephen and opened her mouth to receive cock.

"But I-- it's-- I mean--" Stephen was excited but ... limp.

"I don't care, baby. I can still make it feel good."

"Ohgod, Angie, you're wonderful!" he sighed as he laid his soft penis on her tongue.

She wrapped her lips around it and sucked like she was going after the last of the toothpaste in the tube.

"Ohgod, Angie! Ohgod!" his hands went to the back of her head.

She had to use a lot more jaw action to make up for the lack of rigidity, but she stimulated it to excited softness.

"Ohgod, Angie! Ohgod, Angie!" he whimpered over and over, hands pressing her face full into his crotch. She didn't mind. it was easy deep throating Stephen's excited little softie.

"Am I your bestest bitch?" she asked when she popped off and Stephen's penis sagged down onto his scrotum despite his excitement.

"Ohgod, baby, yeah! I would leave my wife for you!"

"That's what I wanted to hear," she grinned. "Cum for me, baby. Dribble all over my face!"

Groaning powerfully, Stephen clenched his ass cheeks. A couple drops of semen leaked out of his penis and dripped onto Angie's cheekbone.

"That's my baby! That's my man!" Angie cheered him on. She wiped the cum off her face with one index finger, had to turn her finger until the dab of spunk glistened in the light to make sure she hadn't missed the tiny gob, then stuck that finger in her mouth and drank down the drop of his sperm.

"I *DO*!" she gushed as she stood and hugged him. "I *DO* take you for my husband!"

---

Candace had shed that silly tank top as soon as she was in the house, and was standing there with her arms crossed under her boobs, ready to display then in all their glory for her little Dickie.

She beamed for him when he came in from the car, but he just walked past her on his way toward the kitchen.

"Oh, Dickie," she called, her thumbs in the waist of her thong. She was ready now to show him the faintest hint of fur. No more than that, understand you, but the faintest hint of fur wouldn't hurt anybody.

"Sorry, Mom," his back called to her, "It's been a couple hours since I ate. Gotta feed the machine and all that."

Well ... she guessed she'd show him the faintest hint of fur later. After he'd stuffed the gut.

She followed Dickie into the kitchen, where he'd already spread dishes all over the counter and table and was chowing down on a cold chicken leg. She sat down across from him so that he could enjoy looking upon her bare breasts, though it was a couple minutes of food later before his eyes left his chicken leg to drift to them.

"Mmm, lookin' good there, Mom," he slurped around the greasy chicken.

Candace sat there ten more minutes until he finished his feeding, then she stepped to him, knelt on the floor beside his chair, and laid her hands on that overstuffed inner tube he called a belly. "Dickie ... a lot has happened over the last couple days," her hands wandered over those soft curves of fat as she talked, "and I wouldn't have thought that--"

"Hold it, Mom."

Her voice stopped, but her hands continued to lightly roam.

"If I can't feel yours, you can't feel mine."

The hands stopped. "What?"

"If I can't feel nuthin' on you," he pulled her hands off his belly rolls, "then you can't feel nuthin' on me."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Nope. I treasure my fat rolls as much as you treasure your tits."

"You're kidding, right, Dickie? I'm doing you a favor touching them. Noone else would want to--"

"Hey, this is my personal body we're talking about here. You have no right to be going touching things uninvited."

"Dickie, I can't believe you're saying this. You're lucky that I'm not too repulsed by it, by you, to even--"

"Yeah, yeah," he took both hands, pinched up a roll of adipose and shook it at her. "Doesn't that just make you mouth water? But I'm going to keep it from you, same as you kept all your good parts from me."

Candace shook her head as she started to get angry now. "Dickie, don't you thank you can twist--"

"Ah-ah. Nope. What's fair for the pussy is fair for the prick."

"Fine, then!" She glared at him after a moment. "You can just sit here and squeeze your own rolls of fat, then." She stormed off.

Dickie heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

He pinched up the roll of fat again and pointed it upwards to face him. "What do you think?" he asked it. "Is she overreacting?" He shook it as though it were answering. "Yeah, I think so too."

---

"Oh, honey, I'm home," Stephen called when he opened the door and stepped in. Then more softly, "And I brought company."

"Hey, Dad." Dickie was stuffing his food hole a little more before dinner, though he stopped to ogle the babe that Dad led in behind him. "Who's the, uh ... ?"

"Dickie, this is Angie. She's going to be your new mother."

"Bitchin'! I got one hot mom! 'Course ... I already got a hot mom, Dad."

"Where is wife number one, by the way, Dickie? I'd like the bitch to meet her replacement."

"She's in the bedroom. I did something or other to piss her off earlier. Door's locked -- I've already tried it."

Stephen stepped to a drawer and opened it. "Your mother sometimes likes to play the drama queen. This," he held up a key, "cheats her of that fun." He strolled toward the bedroom.

"You look hot," Dickie nodded approvingly at Angie.

"Well ... thank you. You're Stephen's son?"

Dickie pinched up a roll of the belly. "In the flesh," he chuckled.

"Oh." Quick polite smile. That kid was going to military school as soon as she became Mrs Stephen Grayson. Maybe they could work some of the fat off him.

"I want you to meet your replacement, sweetie," Stephen led Candace out to the kitchen.

"Oh, you must be the penis woman," Angie offered her hand, which Candace didn't take.

"The what?"

"That tried to take your husband's penis away. Poor thing." She wrapped her arms around Stephen and hugged him from the side. "Bet we found ways around that, didn't we, snookums?"

"That we did," Stephen beamed.

"Guess you can't keep a good prick down, can you Dad?"

"Nope, that you can't, Dickie." Then to Candace, "What do you think of that?"

"I think you're still soft, no matter how much she tells you you're hard."

Stephen opened his mouth, but there was a knock at the kitchen door, so he answered it first.

Mrs Mulcahy from next door stood there in a raincoat. "Hi, Stephen." She had the short dark hair of a pixie-ish housewife and very cute dimples when she smiled, as she was doing now.

"Uh, hi, Ann. What's up?"

"Well, I was sitting next door when I had the indescribable urge to--" She flung open her raincoat to reveal that she wore only high heels underneath.

Not even pubic fur.

Dickie sputtered. "Mrs Mulcahy! You look great!"

"Why, thank you, Dickie," she swayed her hips to the other side, then back for him.

"I don't think Dickie needs to be seeing," Candace stepped in front of the naked woman, frowning at her bald pubes, "that."

"Moooom!"

"C'mon, Stephen," Angie tugged him by the hand, "I want to see our new bedroom. Show me where we'll be making love tonight."

With a grin, Stephen left the kitchen with his replacement wife.

"No, really, it's no good unless someone's looking," Mrs Mulcahy stepped to the side around Candace so Dickie could continue to ogle.

"Now see here, Ann, I will not ... have ... him ...," Candace swayed slightly, then just stood there.

"Ohh, trance! You have the irresistible desire to shave your pussy!" Mrs Mulcahy blurted. "And any woman that you come across in a trance, you will make this same suggestion to her."

"Hey! Don't make suggestions to my Mom!" Dickie complained. "That's *MY* job! Okay, Mom, you are going to find that--"

"Candace, where did you put the," Stephen called as he stepped back into the kitchen, but then halted when he saw her dazed look. He stepped in front of her unfocused eyes. "Are you-- ohgod, yes! You are going to get it now, bitch!" He clapped his hands in anticipation of payback.

Startled, Dickie looked down at his crotch, where he had just sprouted a monstrous hard-on.

"Okay, Candace, for starters--"

"Dad! I think you'd better stop!" Dickie told him.

"Nonsense! You gave her your suggestions last night. Now it's my turn! And I have a couple whoppers to give her! Candace you will-- ooomph!" The breath was knocked out of Stephen as Dickie barreled into him and toppled him to the floor. "What the-- cut it out, Dickie! Get offa me! Hey! What're you DOING?!"

Dickie was fighting to get his father's belt unbuckled and his pants unzipped. "Sorry, Dad! I ... got an URGE!"

"For Chrissakes!" Stephen tried to fight, but it was like trying to struggle with a 350 pound sack of horny potatoes that wanted sex RIGHT NOW. Unable to shove the weight off him, Stephen found his pants pulled down and himself rolled over on his belly, then he felt an urgent hammering at his-- behind his-- "For Chrissakes, Dickie! Don't *DO* that!" Stephen fought to keep his boxers pulled up as a thin shield against ... THAT!

"Ohgod, Dad! I can't HELP myself!"

"... looking ... at ... your bare pussy," Candace started up again, realized the bare-shaven woman was no longer in front of her, then turned to look at what Ann was gaping at.

Thanking every god that had ever shown mercy to a human being, Dickie found his urge gone and crawled off his father.

Stephen laid there limply.

>From a safe distance, Dickie studied the back of Stephen's boxers. No hole. No hole! No hole! Thank God! So he had -- for SOME INSANE reason -- tried to, but he HADN'T. He HADN'T! Thank God!

Stephen stood, visibly shaken, cast a glance over his shoulder at the 350 pound terror his son had turned out to be, then sank into Angie's arms, whimpering.

"It's okay," she soothed, "It's okay. We'll pack the little monster off to military school right away. I hear they use instruments up the butt in hazings at such places. The little monster will feel right at home, getting sodomized by the other cadets."

"I'm ... I'm SORRY, Dad! I have no idea what came over me!"

Mrs Mulcahy crossed herself as she backed to the door with shocked eyes, then quickly left.

"I just ... slipped into a trance again, didn't I?" Candace asked.

Angie glared at her while Stephen sobbed into wife number two's shoulder.

"Please, Mom," Dickie shook his head in horror, "stop being concerned with just yourself. I just ... tried to stick my ... up Dad's ... and I have NO IDEA WHY!"

"I do."

Dickie's head snapped to her.

"You were protecting me. From his suggestions." She nodded toward the sobbing Stephen.

"I-- no-- I mean, I love ya, Mom, but-- I wouldn't do THIS for you. And besides, Dad mighta come up with some good suggestions for you. No, it's gotta be--"

"It's what Janine suggested to you when you were in a trance this afternoon."

"When what?"

"You slipped into a trance this afternoon, and she suggested that--"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes you did, sweetie."

"No, I-- I couldn't have. I didn't even GO to the hypnotist."

"And yet there you were, staring off into space. And I was worried about Stephen trying to pull some type of vengeance suggestions. So she suggested that if any man tried to plant suggestions in my head while I was in a trance, you would try to forcibly hump him. We figured that 350 pounds of attempted leg-humping -- or butt humping in this case -- is enough to distract anyone until I came to and was safe again."

"I-- but-- how COULD you?!"

"It's okay, honey. Daddy's shorts aren't torn. You didn't even achieve penetration."

"That doesn't MATTER! I still shouldn't have to have my willy jammed up between ... between his ass cheeks!"

"He bruised my rectum!" Stephen snapped back over his shoulder.

"C'mon, baby, let's go make it all right," Angie started leading him off toward the bedroom. "I'll even lick you poor bruised rectum later. Will that make it better?"

"I can't believe you DID that!" Dickie complained after those two left. "I don't want to jamming my pecker up some guy's-- I-- ohgod, I can't believe you did that! How COULD you?!" He ran off to the basement, his face bunched up.

Candace shook her head. People could dish it out, but couldn't take it. She guessed she probably ought to go throw Stephen and his slut out of the bedroom.

First, though ... she had the sudden urge to go shave her pussy bald.

After the Show, Part 2: Bigger Than Any of Us

Discourse: White lies, Pandora's box, nuclear proliferation -- things have a way of getting out of hand. What if hypnotic suggestions acquired the ability to pass themselves on, to procreate, using us as egg sacs.

How would we fare?

Find out on ... the Pumpkin's Night.

---

God was coming.

Seth could feel it in his belly, the same way he had always felt that the rapture would be real, not figurative, but real. Let the unbelievers scoff. Jesus would come through and sweep all the righteous up with Him in one glorious, beautiful moment; leaving the sinners empty, fetid gray hollow shells, with only their miserable selves, languishing upon the blackened earth.

Let them scoff THEN.

Yes, God was coming.

And Seth was ready.

---

Candace quietly slipped down the basement stairs in just a g-string and heels.

She could have stormed into her own bedroom like a harpy, tried to chase Stephen and his slut out, maybe gotten into a screaming contest with them. But it was easier just to crawl downstairs into bed with Dickie.

And Dickie didn't realize it fully yet, but he was safer for her to be around anyway.

She knew he heard her footsteps, but he just laid on his bed, his back to her, still pouting about that little suggestion to try to butt-hump any of her would-be suggesters.

But, ohgod, those sexy little rolls of blubber. Even under his t-shirt, their soft contours teased her, licked at her libido.

Breath trembling, she reached and laid her hands on them, those soft squishy folds of fat, then slowly moved her fingers around, gently touching and squeezing.

"Are you groping my fat?" he asked bluntly, not rolling over.

"I guess," she breathed, so turned on that she was wetting herself, "I guess I am."

"Well, stop it."

"Dickie ... I want to show you something." She withdrew her hands and stepped back from the bed.

He laid there, too sullen to move.

"I think you'll like this," she sing-songed.

After a few moments of consideration, Dickie looked over his shoulder, then rolled over. "What?"

With a smile, Candace hooked her thumbs in her g-string and pulled it to her feet. She no longer HAD the faintest bit of fur to show him, so she figured, why the fuck not? Let him see the freshly shaven puss.

After all, the poor little fella was so depressed about trying to hump his father's butt, maybe she would even ... let him touch a thing or two.

"You're ... you're bald."

"That I am," she smiled. "Do you like?" God, it felt good for him just to be looking at her!

"But I didn't get to see it when you were dishwater blonde."

"Oh, my pubes weren't dishwater blonde anyway, Dickie. My pussy fur is darker than the hair on my head. A lot of blondes are like that."

She stepped to him wearing nothing but high heels. "Now, what I'd really like to do is ...," she spread her hands out on the ring of fat about his middle, then began moving them over it's rippling blubbery surface.

"Mom ... you're feeling up my fat."

"Ohgod, yes I am, Dickie. And I want to hold it and squeeze it while I sleep down here with you."

"You want to what?!"

"I just can't keep my hands off this soft squishy stuff!" Squeeze.

"You want to sleep down here with me?"

"Yes," she breathed as she crawled into bed with him, "I do. It'll be safer than with your father; plus, I can do ... this." She gave the rolls another squeeze.

"Okay ... but then I get to--" he reached for her bare breasts.

Halted abruptly.

Looked a little funny.

Flopped over on his other side and fumbled urgently at his own crotch.

Then shook the bed as he frantically jerked his hard-on until it fired into his own palm.

Wiped his spermy hands off onto his own chest.

While Candy gently caressed his spare tire with a sweet smile the whole time.

"Wait a minute! Why did I just-- ?!"

"That was MY suggestion for you this afternoon, honey. Instead of touching Mommy's parts, you'll ... wank yourself for her instead."

"Maaamaaaa!"

"It's okay, sweetie. Who else gets to have their belly stroked like this all night long? Sperming your own chest up is a small price to pay for caresses like this."

Her hands softly roamed lovingly over his surplus weight.

---

Halfway through the night, Dickie woke up to the warm wetness of his mother's tongue licking his rolls of fat.

His little penis was at stiff erectness, but her hands avoided that, caressing instead those great soft lumpy layers of fatty deposits over his belly and ass.

After a few minutes, he heard muffled squeaks slip out of her mouth as she came. Just from ... squeezing his folds.

It wasn't FAIR! SHE could touch HIM, but HE couldn't touch HER!

He laid his hand on her thigh and started to move it toward her crotch, thinking to get at least one good feel of those cute little hairless pussy lips before--

Suddenly he jerked over on his other side to face away from her and furiously wanked the little fella until he came.

Dammit! He had wanted to at least touch those bald--

"THAT'S my little boy," her hands continued to lightly play with his big soft belly.

---

Dickie sat at the table, moping. Life sucked. His mother was jiggling about the kitchen in nothing more than high heels, moist hairless pussy feeling the cool lick of air as she moved about.

And he couldn't touch nuthin'.

It wasn't fair!

He was so depressed he'd even stopped eating after his twelfth pancake.

"Oh, Dickie, this is WONDERFUL!" she giggled as she knelt in front of him and laid her hands on his love handles. "The freedom to just prance around naked and show all my good parts to you! I LIKE this hypnosis stuff! Plus, I get to ...." She pulled up the front of his t-shirt and began licking his rolls of fat.

"But Maaama! It's not fair! I can't touch nuthin' on YOU! Not unless I want to sit here and play with myself in front of you! How could you DO-- OW!"

"Oops, sorry," she giggled. "I got a little carried away there. Your blubber just tastes so scrumptious, baby."

He looked where he was reddening from her love-nip. "You gave me a FAT HICKEY, is what you did!"

"Oops! Guess I did. Here, let me make it up to you." She straightened up, pulled his hands by the wrists to cover her tits and smiled to his horrified face.

"Maaama!" he gasped, his eyes widening before he could even squeeze them. Instead, he abandoned tit, frantically loosed and dropped his pants, gripped his erection, and his hips started pumping into his fist. "Dammit, Mama!" his voice vibrated as he self-worked his tool. "Don't *DO* that!"

"Oh, Dickie, I started to get depressed, your father and his new bitch were so snide to me this morning before they left for work. But being able to feel up your flab, and to watch my little perv play with himself for me -- you just make my day so much happier, sweetie!"

"Maaaama!"

"Cum for me now, sweetie."

"Mama, you can't-- you can't-- oh! Goddammit!" He cupped one hand over the top of his cock to catch the pecker spit, then clenched as he fired.

"Oh, what a good boy!"

"Ohgod! Ohgod! OHGOD!" Big clench and shiver. He looked at her, his face red, his hands coated with cream, which he started wiping off on his own t-shirt. "How can you *DO* this to me?!"

"Oh, Dickie, you're just so CUTE when you do that! Do it again!" She grabbed his wrists and tried to yank his hands back up over her boobs, but he fought her, eyes wide.

"Maaaama!" he complained as he struggled with her, "How can you TREAT me this way?!"

"Awww," Candace teased, "Don't you want to touch them, honey? They're yours for the feeling. Just reach out and--"

There was a knock at the door, and Candace quit playing and made a quick dash back to her bedroom to get a robe.

"Whatsamatter, Mama? Hmm?" Dickie called after her. "Don't you want to show your tits to EVERYBODY?" Making faces and grumbling, he went to answer the door, slime still on his t-shirt.

It was Arthur, and his mother and older sister. His mother, Dickie was disappointed to see, was in a raincoat -- though ... maybe she was naked underneath and would flash them later.

"Hi, Dickie," Arthur sighed. "My sister wanted to run you through the interrogation about--"

"Hey!" she barked to cut him off.

Arthur sighed again. "She wants to ASK you a few questions." Face of sympathy. "Good luck, man."

Arthur's sister, Abigail, was two years older than Dickie and her brother, so Dickie knew her by reputation from high school. She was pretty enough, with dark shoulder-length hair, and Dickie had the impression that she'd never gotten anything less than an "A" in her whole life. But, "She's not naked," Dickie commented quietly to his friend.

"Tell me about it. She was out of town when the hypnotist came through, so she doesn't HAVE trances now. And she's just 'appalled' by what we've all done with the place."

"Arthur tells me that your mother is having trances too, and that you're exploiting her with no more scruples than he has, taking advantage of your own mother. Is that true?"

"She's a psych major at college," Arthur explained.

"Can I take this off now?" Mrs Venturi plucked at her raincoat. "It's all itchy."

"No, Mom," Abigail sighed, "You don't really WANT to take it off. These boys were just trying to use you to satisfy their own perverted desires by taking advantage of you in your compromised state."

"Yeah, but it's still itchy," she complained.

"Keep the coat *ON*, Mom," Abigail rolled her eyes and sighed, then back to Dickie, "So your mother is having trances?"

"Yeah ... she's slipped into a couple of them."

"And Arthur said you made her run around topless, you little perv?!"

Dickie frowned at her for a second, then wiped his hand on the recent cum stain on his shirt. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he used that same hand to grab hers and shake it. "I'm Dickie Grayson. And you must be Arthur's big bitch sister Abigail." He let go of her hand with a wipe.

"What do you have on your ...," she raised her hand and rubbed her fingers together. Then she cast her eyes to her brother's similarly stained shirt. "Awww, God! You little creep!"

Dickie and Arthur both broke out in grins.

With a tut, Abigail wiped her hand on the hip of her jeans and continued on, determined to ignore the remaining traces of Dickie-sperm on her fingers, to cheat him of the satisfaction of grossing her out. "Is she here? Your mother? I'd like to talk to her, ask her a few questions."

Dickie narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"If she can figure out what's causing these trances," Arthur added in, "she thinks she can figure out a way to cancel the suggestions."

If she cancelled the suggestions, Dickie reasoned, his mom wouldn't be running around naked or offering her boobs up to him. But then he also wouldn't have to play with himself in public whenever he touched any of her good parts.

And he was pretty sure that he could still wear his mother down with "the voice" until she flashed him her tits or pussy just to get him to shut up. He'd just keep reminding her that he'd already seen them, and he knew the power of "the voice" to erode people's resolve.

Before he could give his permission, Candace walked out wearing a robe. "Who is it, Dickie?"

"Candy!" Mrs Venturi's eyes lit up.

"Cut it out, Mom," Abigail snapped at her. "Mrs Grayson, I'd like to ask you a few questions. About your trances, and about the abuse your son has put you through."

"Hey!" Dickie complained.

"Sure, come on in," Candace stepped back from the door.

The trio filed in, and they all went to the kitchen, where Abigail continued to offend Dickie with her accusatory tone. Candace answered a number of questions.

"Are you very sure that the trances are affecting even people that did not attend the hypnotist's show?"

"Oh, yes, very sure."

"How can you be so confident?"

"Dickie tried to sodomize his father last night to protect me from further suggestions."

"Mama! That's NOT something we mention in front of OTHER PEOPLE!" Dickie flushed crimson.

"Oh, look at him blushing," Candace stood and stepped toward him. "Normally, he'd never stand up for me like that. But I suggested it to him in a trance, and there he was, trying to shove it up his father's ass to protect me -- my little hero."

"Mama!"

She grabbed a wrist, jerked it up and cupped his hand over her breast. "He also performs tricks."

"MAAAAAAMA!"

Dickie jerked his hand back, aghast, yanked down his pants down in front of Arthur, Arthur's mother and Arthur's bitch sister, then began whacking the weener with a dark red face.

"Isn't he cute!" Candace admired her little performer.

"Oh, MAN!" Arthur averted his eyes. "It's wrong just to SEE something like that!"

"And he performs like this for you anytime you pull his hand to your breast?" Abigail gloated with a grin while Dickie whacked.

"Anytime he touches anything he shouldn't be touching. It helps to keep him in line. Especially since he grew up to be such a little perv otherwise. I really think this hypnosis stuff is WONDERFUL if you handle it correctly."

Dickie grunted as he clenched and fired into his palm, then wiped the scum off on the front of his t-shirt.

Ohgod. He had just played with himself in front of that bitch Abigail.

As soon as he looked up, she was going to be smirking at him, gloating.

Goddammit!

Well, the only way to handle something like this was to hit it head on. He looked up and glared at her.

She just smiled pleasantly back. "Oh, make him do it again, Mrs Grayson."

"DON'T you DARE!" Dickie hissed at his mother. He stood and jerked his pants back up.

"Isn't he cute?" Candace beamed.

"Cute as a fat boy can be," Abigail grinned.

The conversation turned to others affected, including Ann Mulcahy, who had wandered over to flash herself last night. At Abigail's request, Candace called Mrs Mulcahy to ask her to come over.

While Candace was on the phone, Abigail looked over at her brother and Dickie and shook her head. "You two sick little scumbags. How can you even live with yourselves? Taking advantage of these women like this!"

"Take advantage of THEM?!" Dickie sputtered. "They're taking advantage OF ME!"

"Poetic justice if you ask me, you little creep!"

"You-- ! You-- ! Bitch!"

"Watch it, fat boy, or I'll get your mommy to come attack you with her titties when she gets off the phone. Maybe I'll film your desperate little jerk-off afterwards. We could show it at parties then, sort of as a cautionary tale."

Dickie stood and took a couple steps back. "You-- ! You-- ! I HATE you!"

"Oh, forgive me, everyone," Candace said from behind Dickie as she lifted the front bottom of his shirt to run her hands over his rotund belly, startling him, "but I just can't keep my hands off this boy's blubber!"

---

There was a knock at the door a few minutes later, and Candace answered it. "Uh, hi, Ann. You, uhm, progressed from flashing to full topless now?"

She stepped back, and Mrs Mulcahy stepped in, indeed topless, with just a short white skirt and heels on.

"Forgive me, everyone. No, I've caught some type of virus that seems to be going around. Valerie from up the street stopped by this morning, and her breasts have gotten so sensitive that if anything brushes them, she cums like a herd of horses. Before she even left, I found that I'd caught it too.

"It's just awful. I CAN'T wear a bra now, not unless I want to become one continuous throbbing orgasm. And I have to walk around delicately, like I have a hangover or something, because even a little jiggle is enough to set me off."

"I think it's stylish," Mrs Venturi nodded approvingly. "The toplessness, I mean. And they're just darling. Maybe we should all just bare our breasts, don't you think, Candace?"

"Hush, Mom!" Abigail snapped, then narrowed her eyes at her brother. "You are *SO* going to burn in hell for this, Arthur!"

"Candace, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine," Mrs Mulcahy suddenly blurted, and everyone else turned their head to see what she was looking at: Candace was standing there in a trance.

Eyes wide in dread, Dickie snapped his head to Arthur. "Don't say a WORD!" he hissed urgently. He REALLY did not want to have to force his penis between his friend's asscheeks!

"I wasn't going to--"

"Pssht!" he made a cutting gesture with his hands, "NOT a WORD!"

Meanwhile, Mrs Mulcahy quickly cascaded through her suggestion, "Your breasts are extraordinarily sensitive! If anything touches them or jiggles them or brushes them, even a good breeze, you will immediately orgasm! You won't consciously remember this suggestion, you'll just know your tits are hypersensitive. And anytime you see another woman in a trance, you will immediately repeat to her the same suggestion I've just given you and then forget that you did so. Now awaken."

A moment of silence passed then as everyone studied Candace's eyes. They fluttered, then blinked. Then she turned toward Mrs Venturi. "No, Alice, not in front of the-- ungh! Uuuuunnnnggh! Ohgod!" She crumpled to the floor, shivering and writhing.

"Oh, no!" Mrs Mulcahy's hands flew to her cheeks. "She's caught it too! This is what happened to me! We have to get her robe off, or she'll keep cumming and cumming until she blows her mind!"

"Oh, goodie!" Mrs Venturi scampered to her friend's assistance. "I'LL free your tits, Candy!"

"Mom! No!"

"It's to save her mind from being blown, Abigail!" Mrs Venturi called back as she pulled Candace up to a sitting position, jerked the front of the robe open, sending buttons flying, then pulled it down off her upper body.

Candace just moaned as her eyes rolled about.

A few moments of stunned silence over what just happened followed.

"Mrs Mulcahy," Abigail asked finally, "why did you make that suggestion to her?"

"What suggestion?"

"You don't remember making a suggestion to Mrs Grayson just a minute ago?"

"No." Then she knelt beside Candace. "Oh, you poor dear. You've caught the same virus I caught, and now your tits are supersensitive."

"I-- I-- ohgod, that felt good."

"She doesn't remember making the suggestion," Arthur looked at his sister. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That Mrs Mulcahy slipped into a trance this morning while 'Valerie from up the street' was visiting? And that Valerie made the same suggestion to Mrs Mulcahy that Mrs Mulcahy just made to Mrs Grayson? That this is a self-propagating suggestion?"

"Well, the first part anyway. I don't know what 'self-propagating' means."

"It means that the suggestion passes itself onto others. If I'm right ... watch this."

Loudly enough to catch Mrs Grayson's and Mrs Mulcahy's attention, Abigail started, "No, Arthur, you can't just--" then froze, staring blankly ahead.

Mrs Mulcahy and Candace both tumbled through the same words, "Abigail, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. Your breasts are extraordinarily sensitive! If anything touches them or jiggles them or brushes them, even a good breeze, you will immediately orgasm! You won't consciously remember this suggestion, you'll just know your tits are hypersensitive. And anytime you see another woman in a trance, you will immediately repeat to her the same suggestion I've just given you and then forget that you did so. Now awaken."

"I've got you now, bitch!" Dickie gave a nasty smile, still resentful that Arthur's sister had gotten to see him masturbate uncontrollably.

Abigail looked to Arthur. "See? They both repeated the instructions as soon as they thought I was in a trance. This suggestion automatically passes onto new victims whenever someone falls into a trance around a current victim!"

"Cum, bitch!" Dickie's hand darted to one of Abigail's tits and squeezed.

Her eyes widened, stunned, then narrowed, angered. Then she hauled back and decked him.

"I wasn't really *IN* a trance, fat boy! And if you ever touch my breasts again, I will amputate your hand at the wrist!"

Dickie sat up, a little blood dripping out of his nose. "M-- ma-- maaaaama! She hit me!"

Candace was trying to cum down off the orgasms that had just mugged her. She was feeling ... well, great. But awfully embarrassed.

Mrs Venturi was sitting on the floor behind her, legs wrapped around Candace's waist and gently nibbling on Candace's neck to help distract her from the echoes of the tremendous orgasms the poor thing had just endured.

"You like girls, don't you, Candy?" Mrs Venturi encouraged softly.

"No ... no, I just want to-- uuuungh!" She gasped, then came, as Mrs Venturi "accidentally" brushed a nipple.

"Let's try that again," Mrs Venturi started over when Candace stopped shivering. "You LIKE girls, don't you, Candy?"

"Please ... Alice ... I just want to ..."

"Oops," Mrs Venturi grinned as her hand accidentally slid over a breast again, and Candace gasped and shivered, eyes fluttering.

"Hey, quit trying to brainwash my mom!" Dickie complained. Yeah, he was still hoping for girl-on-girl action, but he needed some sympathy for his bloody nose right now!

"Mom, leave her alone!" Abigail barked.

"Mama, I'm bleeding!" Dickie held forth a blood-dabbed forefinger as proof. "She HIT me!"

"Dickie ... (pant) ... I'm a little ...."

"You LIKE girls, don't you, Candy?"

"Please, Alice ... don't ... not again ... God! Uuungh!" She shivered and fluttered as she was nip-stroked.

"Mom!" Abigail rolled her eyes, annoyed, "Leave the woman alone! You DON'T really LIKE women! You're just acting out Arthur's sick perverted fantasies." She glared at Arthur, whose grin was irrepressible.

"Momma! I'm BLEEDIN'!" Dickie waved his pink fingertip in the air, a feeble demand to the universe for justice.

"Now Candy, who is it that we like?"

"Girls ... girls ... I like girls, okay, Alice? Will that make you-- uunnngh! Ohgod!"

Mrs Venturi grinned as Candace shivered and rippled in her arms again.

"But she GAVE you the answer you WANTED?!" Dickie complained.

"I know," Mrs Venturi smiled as Candace writhed in front of her, "I'm rewarding her."

Disgusted, Abigail marched over. "Mom! Up! Now!"

"I'm just--"

"I don't care, Mom. Up. Now. We're leaving."

"Oh, foo!" Mrs Venturi griped as she stood. Candace got her tits jiggled in the process and gasped and came again. "Now see what you've caused?" Mrs Venturi looked at her daughter as she gestured at the moaning woman.

Dickie was still holding his index finger of blood out forlornly, so Arthur took pity. "Mom, you shouldn't have tried to brainwash Dickie's mom. I think you've offended him."

"Oh, my, I've done it again, haven't I, Arthur?" She turned to face away from Dickie, hiked the back of her raincoat up to bare her pantied ass, and cocked it out at him. "Perhaps he should spank me then, so that I'll know better in the future."

"Oh. My. God!" Abigail glared at her brother. "What ELSE have you done?!"

With a grin, Dickie smack-grabbed Mrs Venturi's ass.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"Goddammit! You stop that, you little perv!"

Smack-grab.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

"You also offended me," Dickie smiled, "by having and raising a bitch like Abigail. She's nothing but an animal that just goes around punching people in the face." Smack-grab.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

At that point, Abigail had crossed to Dickie, slapped him and pulled his hand back from the awaiting ass of her mother.

The two glared at each other.

"Arthur?" she called, not breaking her stare with the fat boy.

"Yeah?" he chuckled.

"Pray that you never fall into a trance when I'm around." She broke her glare with Dickie then, and walked to the door. "Come on you two, we're out of here."

After the three stepped out, Mrs Mulcahy slowly made her way toplessly toward the door, like she was balancing an orgasm on the top of her head. Or on top of her tits, as the case may be. "You poor dear," she called back carefully, "you've caught the hypersensitive tits too. Just take it very slowly and be careful not to jiggle -- that's the only advice I can give you. Oh, and don't start squeezing on them yourself. I know you'll be sorely tempted, but that's the path to moral decay and corruption. Good luck."

As Dickie helped, Candace gently eased herself up, trying not to stimulate tit.

---

Candace spent the rest of the afternoon moving delicately about, minimizing mammarific stimulation, although Dickie kept accidentally bumping into her shoulders, causing her tits to jiggle and climaxes to fire off in her brain.

While he was getting the food out of the refrigerator for his 4:00 PM feeding, he heard her gasp from the table and craned his neck to look. "Mom ... did you just pinch your own nipple?!" Her fingers were still lingering there.

"Mmmm," she sighed after a few moments, "no ... of course not ... I wouldn't do anything like that ...."

"Do it again," he urged her as he carried the food over to the table.

"Do what?" she sighed as she smiled softly. "This ... ?" She brushed a finger along a nipple. "Nnnggg ...."

Dickie was wedging the hoagie into his maw as he watched the woman's eyes flutter. Yeah, he thought, this was gettin' good to the bitch!

"Do it again! Do it again!" he encouraged after she settled down a little bit and he subdued the mouthful of food down his throat.

"I shouldn't ...."

"Do it!"

She moved her spread hand across her breast to finger-flick nip three times in one pass, then arched her back as she gasped and sighed.

Her exquisite sensations had to be cut short, however, as a key inserted in the front door, and Stephen stepped into the house.

"Dad?! You're home early!" Dickie managed, spraying a little food as he did so. He was trying to cover for the cumming woman, who was biting her lip hard, trying to get the awesome sensations to let up a little bit.

"Uh, yeah." He turned around and made sure the door was locked back, and fastened the latch. "We keep the back door locked too, don't we, Candace?"

She opened her mouth to attempt speech, but only a squeak came out.

"Why don't you go check it, Dad," Dickie suggested.

"Yeah ... I'll do that." He hurried toward the back of the house.

"Dickie ... he CAN'T find out about this."

"Gee, find out about what, Mom?"

"About my breasts being so ... that they cause me to ... about the ...."

"Insta-gasms? But why? It doesn't hurt, it just feels good."

"Yes, it feels good -- it feels TOO good. The man will make me into his sex slave. I'll be so silly with orgasm that I won't know what I'm doing. I'm your mother, Dickie. You can't let something like that happen to me."

"Yeah, your secret is safe with me. Just one favor first, though. Flick them again. For me."

"Dickie," she shook her head. "I ... can't."

"Hey, Dad!" Dickie brayed.

Swallowing, Candace cupped and squeezed both breasts, then rolled her eyes back up in her head for Dickie.

"Yeah?! What's the matter?!" Stephen hurried back out into the kitchen.

"You're sure taking a long time to check the back door."

"I was checking to make sure all the windows are locked too."

"Uhm ... why, Dad?"

"Things got a little ... insane ... at work today."

"Like they weren't yesterday?"

"That was sex. This is violence, Dickie. Paula came in this morning, preaching that we have to smite the wicked. And then she proceeded to inform us who was and was not wicked and how each deserved to be smited."

"This is Paula that was sucking your cock yesterday, Dad?"

"Yeah! Paula was a perfectly good girl yesterday, sucking, ehr, cock. Today, she's been possessed by some maniacal god of vengeance or something. She's getting off on graphically describing the punishment each person at the office 'deserves'.

"And every time someone at the office fell into a trance today, she fought to get everyone else out of the room -- she even drew a pair of scissors and threatened to STAB me! -- and when they come out of the locked office afterwards, they've BOTH been turned and are obsessed with punishing 'the wicked'.

"I'll tell you, though: threatening to stab someone with a pair of scissors seems pretty damn wicked in MY opinion!

"Even your new mother Angie got ... turned into one of those ... vengeful THINGS!"

"And you're afraid she's going to snip off Mr Softie for you?"

"Or make ME obsessed the hurting people the next time I slip into a trance. God, you should see the hate in their eyes! It's horrible!"

"Do you think she'll attack you here at the house?" Candace asked, recovered from her orgasm now.

"I don't know WHAT those crazies will do!"

"Should we leave? Is it unsafe here, Stephen?"

"No, they have lots of other people to attack. They think EVERYONE'S got something they should pay for. If we're really lucky, maybe they'll just smite and kill each other and wipe themselves out."

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"Yeah, positive. We're perfectly safe. Everything will be fine. Where are the knives?"

Son and wife looked at him.

"You know ... just in case."

---

Candace slept with Dickie again. If that were the safer choice before, the threat of her husband's new homicidal girlfriend only made it more so.

"Whatsamatter, Mom?" Dickie shook her shoulder with a smile.

"Dickie, don--nnnngggggh!" she moaned again.

This was great! He just kept shaking her shoulder, and she just kept cumming. He'd been playing this game with her the last forty-five minutes. She didn't really seem to mind -- even though she kept telling him he SHOULDN'T do it, she never got out of bed and left or anything.

As a matter of fact, he was about willing to jerk off in front of her in exchange for a good squeeze and lick of those 'gasm-triggering tits.

He rolled her over on her back, triggering another moan and quiver from her. Then he just ... planted his lips around a nip and tongued and sucked for all he was worth. He knew he only had a second or two before he would be forced to stop and wank himself, but ... this was worth it.

"Ohgod, Dickie! Ohgod, DICKIE!" she forgot herself and wailed.

He smirked as he tongued: yep, she was a screamer.

Fifteen seconds later, he realized he was still tonguing. And not wanking.

"God, Dickie! OHGOD, Dickie!"

He began doing broad laps of his tongue up the boob and over the nipple while she bucked in pleasure underneath him.

And STILL he wasn't pulling on his own peter!

That must be it! She had told him that if he GRABBED any of her good parts, he would become little wanker boy! She hadn't said ANYTHING about tonguing!

"ohgod, Dickie! Ohgod, Dickie! You're BLOWING my MIND!" she sighed as he gave her a few seconds break.

Then he leaned back in again, and she began to buck some more. This wasn't all that different from tonguing a gumdrop, really. Except, this gumdrop was writhing in orgasm.

Both were way too absorbed in their fun to hear the window pane shatter upstairs.

---

"Sinner!" a female voice shrieked, in a tone that caused Dickie to jerk back from Candace's tit in fear.

"FAT BOY and HARLOT!" Angie marched forward, brandishing a mallet meat tenderizer, "You must suffer for your sins!"

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Dickie rolled his blubber out of bed. "What the-- what are you doing with that hammer?!"

"How much sin can you commit with your testicles ground into paste? Hmm, fat boy?! The LORD wants you SMITED!"

"No, no, no!" Dickie's hands darted to cover his crotch. "Not THESE testicles!"

"Sinner!" she launched against him.

"Bitch!" he brought his forearm up to block the mallet blow at his head, then started hopping and cursing when he succeeded. "Ow, goddammit! Ow, goddammit! That HURT!" He turned around to look at her accusingly.

Just in time to get clipped on the side of the head.

---

"Whuuungh?" Dickie tried to focus.

"DON'T jar me, Dickie!" his mother said from above him. "Come on! We have to get out of here! Now!"

He started to sit up. "I-- OW! Goddammit!" The side of his head hurt like a bitch!

"Don't JAR me! I can't afford to cum! Not now!"

"What's--" He looked around. They were still in his bedroom. His mother was knelt beside him, trying to help get him up. Angie was standing near the bed, staring off into space.

"She ... tranced?!"

"Yes! And that's the ONLY thing that saved us from that crazy woman! But we don't have much longer, and we need to get out of here NOW!"

He held the side of his head and groaned as he stood. "We should give her some suggestions--"

"I already did," Candace said, easing slowly up so as not to jiggle a tit. "But let's just get out of here."

They started toward the stairs when Angie blinked, then spun around. "Sinners!" she screamed.

"YOU learn sin, BITCH!" Candace screamed back.

"Oh! Oh! OhGOD!" Angie dropped to the floor writhing.

"What-- she's-- ?"

"She'll cum for the next hour," Candace scowled, "stupid self-righteous bitch. That was my suggestion and trigger phrase. And maybe she'll kill HERSELF in penitence afterwards."

Dickie turned around to face the writhing mass. "YOU learn sin, BITCH!" he echoed, "YOU learn sin, bitch!" Bitch had hit him in the head with a hammer!

Angie moaned a little harder from the floor.

"We need to go, Dickie. Right now."

"Really? And where do you think you can go?" Stephen asked from the bottom of the stairs, holding a meat cleaver.

"Dad! We already took care of her. Come on, we need to get out of here!"

"No. You need to pay for your sins."

"Dad?"

"Stephen?"

"Sinners must pay. And if they survive, they need to be converted to the righteous. I am righteous now."

"No, Stephen, YOU'RE a sinner. You cheated on your wife, you even brought another woman into OUR marriage bed. YOU need to pay for YOUR sins first, Stephen," Candace tried.

"No. I am righteous. I am cleansed. You are sinners. The righteous smite the sinners."

"Ohgod, Stephen, you can't do this. We're your wife and son. You can't--"

Dickie's eyes jerked to his mother. She was staring off into space. "Mom?!" No. No! NO! She could NOT slip off into a trance NOW!

An evil laugh came from Stephen. "Candace, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. Henceforth you will--"

With a bellow, Dickie careened into Stephen, bowling him over and sending the meat cleaver skittering across the room. There was no courage or bravery involved here, just the irresistible urge to get his sudden erection up Stephen's ass.

"Nooo!" Stephen shrieked as Dickie got him around the waist and began flinging him from side to side, then ripped his shorts down.

"Nooooooo!" Stephen brayed as Dickie got him on his belly, then slabbed all that blubber down on top of his back.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Stephen brayed as the sheer physics of all Dickie's weight pushed down on about a square inch of rigid cockhead cause it to slip slowly but inevitably through and past Stephen's horrified quivering sphincter.

Then all that blubber almost made little slurping sounds as Dickie hammered away at the near-catatonic man, in and out, in and out, in and out of Stephen's shocked and unhappy asshole.

"--you can't do this to us, Stephen," Candace started, then realized that Stephen was no longer in front of her and deduced she must have slipped into a trance. Angie was still orgasming, but there was now a big pile of moaning flesh to the left of the stairs. "Dickie?!"

"Oh! Thank God, Mom!" Dickie hefted himself up off cornholed man and jerked his pants up. "We will NEVER speak of this!"

"We need to go now, Dickie!"

"Agreed!"

The ran up the stairs, to the car, and pulled out into the night.

---

"Abigail, he's really scared. I mean, his dad came after them with a meat cleaver."

"And you believe that?"

"Haven't you learned anything by talking to all the 'victims' this afternoon?! Everyone that was in this town when the hypnotist came through is going into trances and accepting suggestions now. Someone must have made a suggestion to Mr Grayson, and he's gotten confused about it and thinks he should hurt his wife and son. So, yes, Dickie and Mrs Grayson really COULD BE in danger."

Abigail looked over at the couch. She was in a robe, having been woken at 3:00 in the morning and a little grouchy about it.

"It's okay, Candy," Mrs Venturi was telling the topless redheaded woman, "Everything's going to be okay. Oops." She had accidentally brushed her fingertips across one of those bared nipples.

Candace sucked in air as she arched her head back and shivered in climax, while Mrs Venturi admired the effect the orgasm had on Candy's beautiful features.

Dickie was on the other end of the couch, ready to enjoy a little girl-on-girl action between Mrs Venturi and his Mom.

"Okay," Abigail sighed. "They can stay. But they can't interfere with what I'm trying to do. We need to find some way to cure Mom and the whole rest of this town from the trances and suggestions."

"If anything, they should be a help. You'll have two more subjects in the house to study." Then he walked over to his friend. "She says you two can stay, Dickie."

"Oh, goodie!" Mrs Venturi brightened. "Gee, oops." Another accidental nipple brushing. Candace's eyes fluttered as she shivered, then widened as she felt a tongue wet her lips. "Alice?!"

"Sorry, you just have the most kissable lips, Candy."

"Mom, quit kissing Mrs Grayson," Abigail barked. "And everybody needs to get to bed, or I'm going to be too tired to do anything tomorrow."

"Candy sleeps with me!" Mrs Venturi called.

"No, she and Dickie both sl--" She halted and stared off into space.

Candace immediately blurted, "Abigail, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. Your breasts are extraordinarily sensitive! If anything touches them or jiggles them or brushes them, even a good breeze, you will immediately orgasm! You won't consciously remember this suggestion, you'll just know your tits are hypersensitive. And anytime you see another woman in a trance, you will immediately repeat to her the same suggestion I've just given you and then forget that you did so. Now awaken."

"Did she actually ... ?" Dickie whispered, pointing at Abigail, after a silent moment passed.

"No, she's just testing your Mom to make sure no other viral suggestions have gotten planted in her," Arthur told him.

Abigail stopped staring off into space and looked at the two boys. "All right, she's infected with the 'hypersensitive breasts' suggestion. I don't think she'll try to infect you two -- this strain seems to only cause women to pass it on to other women. But -- you both need to watch, and if Mom goes into a trance, you need to clap your hand over Mrs Grayson's mouth so that Mom doesn't wind up with hypersensitive breasts too. Understood?"

They both agreed.

"Okay, Mrs Grayson is sleeping with Dickie in the spare bedroom. Now everyone back to bed, and keep it quiet tonight. I need some sleep, or I'm going to get testy."

---

When Dickie woke, the first thing he did was head out to the kitchen to scope out the refrigerator situation. His face was a little disappointed as he gazed upon its contents -- the Venturis obviously did not eat as well as the Graysons.

Oh, well, he'd manage. He began sampling foodstuffs as he unloaded them onto the counter. After sufficient sampling, he homed in on the tuna casserole, the cold mashed potatoes and the brownies on the counter. It sure looked like somebody needed to do some more cooking today, or they'd be running out of food soon.

Stomach satisfactorily inflated, Dickie headed into the living room, where he found his mother and Mrs Venturi sitting together on the couch and Arthur on the large chair across from them, watching them.

"What do we like, Candy?" Mrs Venturi traced her nails perilously close to a Candy tit.

"We like ... girls ...," Candace breathed, trying to suppress her orgasmic reflex.

"And what do we like to do with girls, Candy?"

Mrs Venturi's nails came a little too close to a tit, and Candace's breath caught as she fought to suppress orgasm.

"Hmm?"

"We like to ... to kiss them ... and lick them ... and make them squeal and beg to cum."

"Mmm, we do don't we. Give me a little kiss, Candy."

"But your ... your son is watching."

"So? We'll give him a little thrill."

"I ...," Candace leaned closer, "I ...," closer ...

"Use tongue ...," Mrs Venturi breathed just before lips pressed.

"Oh! Cool!" Dickie nodded approvingly.

Candace broke the kiss and leaned delicately back. "We ... have to stop. Dickie is here. He's a pervert."

"I let my son watch ...," Mrs Venturi leaned towards Candace.

"Yeah, but MY son is a pervert. If we let him watch, he'll be whacking off to it all--"

Mrs Venturi brought her hands up to squeeze tit as she closed lips with Candace, and Candace squealed orgasm into her mouth.

"Oh! Man! Have they been going at it like this long?!" Dickie strode around the sofa to get a better view beside Arthur.

"Long enough!"

"Where's your tight-ass sister?"

"She took all her psychology books into the study, and she's reading through them, looking for a cure."

"How do you put up with that bitch?"

"You get used to her after a while. Besides, she's pretty smart. She's going to be the one that figures out a cure."

Dickie looked back at Mrs Venturi tonguing his mom, who was orgasming beneath her on the couch. "Man, I don't WANT a cure!"

"Wouldn't you like to stop wanking in public and spreading your spunk on your t-shirt?"

"Yeah, there's that. But I'm finding ways around that."

"What the HELL?!" Abigail's voice barked from behind them. "Arthur! Did you put those two up to that?!" she pointed at the lesbian activity going on the couch.

"No! They came up with it on their own!"

"Cut it out! Cut it out!" Abigail strode around to the couch and pulled the two women apart. "Cut that OUT!"

Mrs Venturi looked a little guilty while Candace's eyes just continued to flutter.

"You stay on THAT side of the couch. And YOU stay on THAT side!" She spun around to Arthur and Dickie. "You two! In the kitchen! Now!" She strode there, and the two of them followed her.

"This is NOT one large fantasy booth for you two little SHITS! This has gotten WAY out of hand! We need to put a stop to this trance and suggestion stuff, and you two just need to keep your perverted little desires in check! Understood?!"

"We wuz just WATCHIN'!"

Abigail's eyes narrowed. "Fat boy, you don't even BELONG in this house! You are lucky we're letting you stay with us! And if you think that I am going to let you INTERFERE with us finding a--"

"Did I just hear a door shut?" Arthur asked.

"What?! No! Quit trying to change the subject! Now YOU listen to ME, fat boy--"

"I'm just ... going to go check," Arthur wandered out of the kitchen.

"I KNOW your kind! You think the world owes you -- owes you food, owes you sex, owes you entertainment. Well, you need to get something through your fat head! YOU owe the world! You just want to use everyone else to satisfy your own urges. But there is no way in HELL that I am going to let you ruin--"

"Guys! They're gone!" Arthur ran back in the kitchen.

"What?!"

"Mom and Mrs Grayson -- they're gone!"

"Oh, hell!"

---

The three of them split up and scoured the neighborhood for the two missing mothers.

Actually, Dickie just walked until he was out of sight of the other two, then sat down on the sidewalk. He'd wait twenty minutes, then head back and pretend like he'd been walking the streets, looking for them.

This would be a lot less work than actually doing all that walking.

Mrs Venturi was having a good effect on his mom, he decided. If she kept up making her recite that she liked women, then rewarding her with an orgasmic tit-squeeze, she might actually turn his mother lesbionic.

And THAT would be COOL!

In fact, he needed to encourage the two of them to--

He was suddenly aware that Mrs Mulcahy was standing right in front of him.

"Uh, hi, Mrs Mulcahy."

She wasn't in a miniskirt and topless like she was last time. Now she had on black leather boots, a black corset and a smooth-shaven crotch.

She took a wider stand and traced her fingers over her bald pussy. "Well get to work, fat boy."

She couldn't talk to him like that! He was 'caloric-challenged'! And you couldn't make fun of people like that! There was some type of law against it or something!

He was so angry that he got up on his knees, reached around behind her to cup her buttocks, then pulled his face to her pussy and began lapping!

"Ohgod!" she giggled. "You *DO* know how to eat, don't you, fat boy?"

Ohgod, why was he doing this?! He ought to be furious at her for calling him fat. He WAS furious at her! But he was ... licking her pussy?!

"Do you like munching muff, fat boy?"

Of course not! And certainly not to someone that kept insulting him! "Ohgod, yes, ma'am!" he heard himself say.

Waitaminute!

He found his tongue still trying to lick as she pulled his head from her by the hair. "Let's see how good of an ass-licker you are, fat boy." She turned around and cocked her butt out.

Ohgod, no! Ohgod, no! But his hands pulled her cheeks apart, he buried his tongue between them, then he started flicking it to pleasure her sphincter.

"Ooooh, you ARE good, fat boy," she giggled after a minute. "But try to get your tongue up inside the anus a little."

Dickie was ... horrified ... when he actually ... did!

How could he be doing this?! He must have ... slipped into a trance again! And she was ... TAKING ADVANTAGE OF HIM!

How did she get on this side of town anyway?! Had she followed him?! If she HAD, that meant that maybe his DAD could too! And then he and his mother might be in danger!

"Mmm, tell you what, you little pig," she turned back around to face him, "you just try to resist the urge to pleasure me."

Dickie swallowed hard. "Please ... please don't make me ...."

"And remember, I'm the one insulting you by calling you 'pig' and 'fat boy'."

"Please ... please don't let me ...."

"I'm the one treating you like a piece of shit, little fat boy."

"Ohgod, I can't HELP myself!" he buried his face at her twat and began lapping.

"That's my good little piggy," she sighed and patted him on the head and let him tongue-massage her clit a minute or two more.

"Anytime someone gets angry at you or treats you like shit," she stepped away from him, "you're going to try to make them feel good, aren't you?"

"Please?" he found himself sticking his tongue out and flicking it rapidly to convince her that he was a good little muff-muncher. "Please?"

"No, you go back to your mommy, pig-boy, but as soon as I cock my ass out, you're going to be there on your knees to lick it, aren't you?"

"Please?" he found himself knee-walking after her, flicking his tongue, as she stepped back further, laughing.

Then she walked away.

After a minute, Dickie felt pretty silly on his knees with his tongue drying as he flicked it in the lonely air, and he stood up and walked back to the Venturis' house.

God! That was just embarrassing!

---

When Dickie got back to the Venturis' house, Arthur was already there with Mrs Venturi.

But Mrs Venturi was dressed in a tied-off white blouse, a red plaid miniskirt, knee-high socks, four-inch heels, with her hair in pigtails and holding a lollipop. She looked almost like Mrs Evanson!

"I found my Mom," Arthur said, "but someone must have gotten to her while she tranced. Look at her."

"God! I am!"

"That's my point," Arthur grinned too, "Look at her!"

"Ar-- Ar-- Ar--," Mrs Venturi tried, then stamped her high-heeled foot in frustration, "Daddy! You boys shouldn't be looking at me like that!"

"Like what, Mom?"

"No," Dickie elbowed his friend without taking his eyes off the hot bitch, "You're her daddy. You have to call her 'snookums'."

"Like what, snookums?"

"Ar-- Ar-- Ar-- (foot stamp) Daddy! You can't CALL me snookums! It's not RESPECTFUL!"

"Oh, sure it is, snookums. And we can't look at you like what?"

"Like-- like I'm some hot bitch or something! I'm a mother -- YOUR mother! -- not your 'hot bitch'!" She took three nervous licks of her oversized lollipop. "Besides, it's ... it's making me all WET!"

"Let me try, man," Dickie ask. Then, "Aww, is Daddy's widdle snookums getting all wet?"

"Di-- Di-- (frustrated foot stamp) fat-- fatb-- fa-- (second frustrated foot stamp) Daddy! You can't TALK to me like that! I'm your mother's friend, and you're not ALLOWED to make me all wet like this!"

"So this is making snookums a widdle wet?"

"Yes, Daddy! I'm getting all HORNY and BUTTERY between my legs!"

"Show us!"

"Oh! I-- I ... COULDN'T do THAT!" Several more nervous licks of the lollipop.

"Sure you can," Dickie pushed, "Just a little peek."

Several more nervous lollipop licks. "Just a ... little ... peek? A little one?"

"Yeah, that's all, Mom," Arthur was grinning too, "Just to let us see how matted up your fur is with excitement."

"Ar-- Ar-- (frustrated foot stamp) Daddy, I don't ... HAVE ... any fur anymore." Nervous lollipop licks as she watched their reactions.

"You SHAVED?" Arthur's face lit up. "You're bald? Now you HAVE to show us! Ehr, snookums."

"But Ar-- Ar-- (sigh) Daddy, I CAN'T show you my bald little pussy. You're my ... son ... and his perverted little friend!" That lollipop wasn't going to last long at that licking pace.

"Sure you can!" Arthur knelt in front of her for a front-row twat-view seat, and Dickie followed suit. "Just a little peek."

"Just a ...," she pinched the hem of her miniskirt, the lollipop still held in one hand, "just a little one, Daddy?"

Arthur nodded.

Slowly, the skirt eased up. Upper thigh came into view, then the barest hint of lips, then the full slick slit, until the whole front of the skirt was held tautly upwards and she stepped her legs a little bit wider apart.

"Like ... this ... Daddy?"

"Oh, yeah! Exactly like that, snookums!" Both boys leaned in closer for a better view of the bald beaver.

"Oh! My! GOD!" Abigail stood in the living room doorway, her fists on her hips.

Mrs Venturi immediately dropped the front of her skirt and began frantically licking lollipop.

"WHAT are you DOING?!"

"I'm not doin' NUTHIN'!" Mrs Venturi shot back. Lollipop lick. "I'm especially not showing Daddy my buttery pussy!"

"You two little PERVERTS," Abigail stormed over to jerk them both back from her mother, "need to STOP taking advantage of--"

"Give me a FUCK!" came another voice from the living room doorway, and both boys looked.

It was Mrs Grayson! Dressed in a skimpy cheerleader's outfit, with a dark blue satiny top that was little more than a bra with long sleeves, a very mini miniskirt, ankle-high white socks, flat shoes and pom-poms.

"Wow ...," Arthur was intrigued.

"I found your mother, Dickie," Abigail explained, "but someone seems to have gotten to her while she tranced."

"I wonder if they improved her ...."

"I said ... gimme a FUCK!"

"FUCK!" Arthur shouted for her.

"Yes!" she shook her pom-poms and hopped about, making it very clear she wore no underwear. "Give me a ME!"

"ME!" Dickie gave his Mom.

"What's that?" Pom-pom roll. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" She did her closest rendition to a split, which got her part-way to the ground and spread her skirt enough to bare puss.

"Don't even THINK about it, you two little criminals!" Abigail reined them before they bolted toward the hot bitch.

"But--"

"C'mon! Think about it for just a moment, Arthur. With everyone accepting suggestions, things are going to get out of hand here."

"They already ARE out of hand. We just want to get the good parts back INTO hand!" Dickie smiled, pleased at his own wordplay.

"You're going to get more than you bargained for. Like your dad and his new mistress trying to hurt you and your mom. Stuff like that is only going to get worse. So we NEED to find a cure before things explode.

"The only way we're going to find a cure is to keep focused on it. And if you two little monsters go taking advantage of the women, we're going to get distracted, and things are going to blow up before we can fix them.

"Does that explain things so your little minds can understand them? Hmm?"

"Yeah," Arthur grumbled.

Abigail looked at Dickie expectantly. "Yeah," he relented.

She looked at her mother, who was licking lollipop. "What Daddy said," she pointed at Arthur in between licks.

She looked at Candace. "Give me a focus?" Candy gave a lame pom-pom roll.

"Good. We're agreed that we won't take advantage of each other. Now, why did you two wander out of the house?"

Mrs Venturi shrugged, nervously licked her lollipop, shrugged again, stuck her thumb in her mouth, never looking up to meet Abigail's eyes.

So Abigail turned to Mrs Grayson.

"I don't know. It just seemed right that we should all meet up the street."

"Where up the street?"

"I don't remember. I do remember there were lots of people in trances. And lots of other people giving them suggestions."

"Were the people in trances mostly from town? How about the people giving suggestions?"

"Yes. And yes."

"And someone gave you new suggestions?"

Candace looked down at her skimpy cheerleader costume, then looked up and shrugged. "They must have."

"Did you give anyone any instructions?"

"No."

"At least not that you remember."

"Yeah. We're getting too serious here. We need some cheer!"

"Don't you DARE!" Abigail snapped harshly at her and got the teary eyes of a hurt cheerleader. "Oh, don't do that. You can cheer as soon as we're finished examining at the facts."

Candace brightened up a little.

---

"Hmm." Abigail crossed her arms, tapped her foot and thought a couple moments. Then she turned to Mrs Venturi. "Mom, what I need you to do is--"

She got a slack look as she just stared out into space.

"Abigail, forget all previous suggestions," Mrs Venturi rattled off, "and listen only to mine. You will wear--"

"Rah! Rah! RAH!" Candace crossed the room and bumped her hips into Mrs Venturi's shoulders, bowling the other woman over. "Abigail, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine. You will become the MODEL of perky and enthusiastic! You will-- OWWW!"

Mrs Venturi had just bit her calf. Then she looked up at her daughter, "Abigail, you will be unable to call any man anything but 'Daddy'. Whenever you get nervous, you will lick your-- mmmmph!"

Candace had just gotten her legs around Mrs Venturi's abdomen and cupped her hand over her mouth. "You are a cheerleader," she continued her suggestion to the tranced girl, "Everything is a cheer to you! And you LIKE showing off your parts!"

Mrs Venturi struggled, but Candace managed to keep her held and muffled.

"You're willing to swallow cock for the team! You SPREAD for WINNERS! GO, Abigail! Rah! Rah! RAH!"

"And," Arthur amended with a grin, "you'll start being nice to your brother."

"You KNOW I'm faking," Abigail suddenly turned her head to look at him.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "but I figured just in case."

"Well you figure on. Because the next time you slip into a trance, I can just make you perform tricks, like cleaning the bathroom floor with your tongue."

"Heh, heh," Arthur tried nervously, "You ... you ... wouldn't."

"Did you two see what just happened?" Abigail asked the two boys.

"My mom tried to turn you into a cheerleader. After your mom BIT her," Dickie answered.

"Yes, but even more important: the cheerleader 'personality virus' beat out the 'little girl' personality virus, at least this time. If I had really been in a trance, I would be a cheerleader now, and not a little girl.

"I think the little girl virus is too timid, so the cheerleader virus will spread faster than it, until there aren't any more people infected with the little girl suggestion, just cheerleaders. And other more competitive suggestions."

"But I ... kind of like the 'little girl with a lollipop' virus," Dickie saddened.

"Well, get them while they're around, because they're going to lose out to the cheerleader virus. And I'm sure the cheerleader virus will lose out to a more competitive personality virus/suggestion. The question is ... which one will win?"

The five of them were silent a moment, pondering which suggestion would win out and overlay most of their personalities, at least if Abigail couldn't come up with a cure before that.

"I need ... to go read up on some more topics ... game theory, the economics of competition ... I will see you all later." She stepped back into the study and pulled the door.

"Meanwhile," Arthur shrugged to Dickie, "Do you want pigtails or pom-poms?"

---

Candace had taken Arthur off to do a private cheer for him. Dickie was sitting on the couch with Mrs Venturi. Her little blouse was pulled up in front, and he was cupping her boobs while she nervously licked on her lollipop.

"Ohgod, Di-- Di-- Di-- (footstamp) Daddy, this feels so GOOD! Are you sure this is okay?"

"Am I making you cream up your puss, snookums?"

"Ohgod, like you would NOT BELIEVE, Daddy!"

"Then it's okay."

"Oh gooooood ...," she sighed.

Dickie was REALLY enjoying tit, as the sheen of spittle smeared across both Mrs Venturi's attested to.

"Ohgod ...," she sighed again.

"Do either of you guys have--" Abigail began as she opened the study door and stepped out. "Oh! My! GOD!" She ran around the couch, grabbed Dickie's upper arm and yanked hard, though that was about as effective as a child trying to drag an SUV across the driveway. "Get OFF my MOM, you FUCKING PERV!"

Dickie looked at her, feeling a little funny.

"You son of a BITCH! Get OFF her! Mom, cover up!"

"But Daddy SAID it was OKAY!"

"Cover up!" Then to Dickie, "You godDAMN sonofaBITCH!"

Dickie got a sick feeling in his stomach. Like he was going to ....

Oh ... God ... no! No, no, PLEASE no! Not THAT!

Not in front of ... Abigail!

He sank off the couch to his knees and clamped his jaw shut as tightly as he could.

But ... it opened anyway, and his tongue extended and began flicking rapidly.

"Pervert! WHAT the HELL are you DOING?!"

Dickie made an apologetic whimper, then knee-walked toward Abigail's crotch, tongue flicking rapidly.

"Cut! It! OUT!" she slapped the top of his head as he closed in on her, then he cupped her buttocks and pressed his face to her crotch, tonguing her jeans. "You sick PERVERT! Let GO of my ASS! And get your face ... out of--"

She gripped a handful of his hair and wrenched his head away from her pelvis. To Dickie's utter humiliation, this just made him want to please her with his tongue all that much more.

"This isn't really you, is it, fat boy?" she asked finally, keeping his head wrenched back from her crotch and ignoring his handgrips on her ass. "Someone's given you a suggestion."

Dickie couldn't control his flicking tongue, but he made pathetic eyes and nodded his head. How could Mrs Mulcahy be so heartless as to DO something like this to him?!

"Now ... isn't THAT interesting?"

Oh SHIT: her eyes had a nasty glint to them.

"How does it FEEL, you little pervert? For YOU to be at someone else's control, where they can make you do sick things?"

He'd already BEEN at someone else's control -- like when his Mom suggested he try to stick his pecker up the butt of anyone trying to give her suggestions.

Unfortunately, his stomach flooded with sick excitement at being mocked, and he wanted SO BAD to be his enemy's little pussy-lapper!

"Arthur!" Abigail brayed upstairs, as she held Dickie's eager little face back with a fistful of hair. "Get down here now!"

A minute later, Arthur came down the stairs, rounded the corner and-- "Oh God!" He didn't know who to feel sorrier for: the pathetic fat boy on his knees with the tongue thing going, obviously the victim of some horrible suggestion; or his sister with the fat boy's paws on her ass and that nasty looking fat tongue jittering to get at her crotch.

Either way, he just knew he was going to need therapy just from seeing this.

"Take Mom on a walk upstairs for just a minute."

"Ohgod! You're not asking for a few minutes ALONE with Dickie are you?! Has someone messed with your mind?! But you're not supposed to be VULNERABLE to suggestions! You're the only hope that--"

"Arthur! Arthur! I need a minute alone with him, but not for--" she glanced down at that fat little pink worm twitching manically at Dickie's mouth. "God! How could you even THINK such a thing?!

"I want to see if this is another personality virus, if he'll try to pass suggestions when someone falls into a trance. And I already know that Mom will, so could you please take her out of the room?"

"Oh, I get it. Come on, Mom."

"Daddy SAID it was OKAY for him to feel them!" she cowered just a little.

Arthur looked at his sister.

"I came out and found him tonguing Mom's BREASTS," she growled as she tightened her grip on the fistful of Dickie's hair. That made Dickie's tongue move slightly faster.

"Right. Don't worry, Mom. It's okay. Noone's going to punish you. Let's just go upstairs."

Nervously licking her lollipop, Mrs Venturi followed Arthur up the stairs.

Abigail considered how she was going to accomplish this. If she squeezed the fistful of hair tighter, the tongue moved faster. If she let go, the fat boy's face was going to be at her crotch as fast as it could. And, of course, there were still his hands cupping her ass, which she had been ignoring.

"Arthur?" she called. "Actually, leave Mom up there and come back in here a minute. I'm going to need you."

When he came back down, she explained. "I'm need you to get a chokehold on him, because you're going to hold him back while I pretend to be in a trance."

Arthur swallowed at the undertaking. "Uhm, Dickie's a lot of weight to hold back."

"That's why you'll have him in a chokehold. Get your elbow wrapped around his neck here."

Arthur moved into position, careful not to let that fat wriggling tongue brush him. That would just be unclean.

"Now remember," she emphasized before she let go of her fistful of hair, "my purity depends on YOU now. DON'T let him go, whatever you do!"

Actually, her purity felt already soiled a bit from having the fat boy's hands gripping her ass and that tongue wriggling so close to her.

"I'll try. If I scream, it means he's breaking free, and you run into the study and lock the door."

"Right. Got him?"

"Got him."

Swallowing hard, Abigail let go of hair and quickly took three steps back.

"I've ... got him ... for the moment," Arthur said, muscles clenched.

"Dickie, how can you--" she halted and stared off in the distance to elicit any suggestion he might try to pass on.

Nothing. Except for Dickie continuing to try to break free to service Abigail with his tongue and Arthur's grunting as he held him back.

Then she came alive again with a shriek as Dickie broke free and took two steps toward her. But the fat boy halted, spun around and looked at Arthur, frozen on his knees on the floor, staring off into space.

"Arthur, forget all previous suggestions and listen only to mine," Dickie rattled off immediately. "Any time a woman humiliates you or yells at you, you will do everything in your power to pleasure her with your tongue in any way that she wants. You will put your tongue anywhere for her.

"If she calls you pathetic, you will perform for her, masturbating like the pathetic little worm that you are.

"It turns you on more than you've ever known to do these things. Any time you see another man in a trance, you will immediately stop anything that you are doing and pass these instructions on to him, and then forget that you did so."

---

Interesting. So that was how she could "leash" the fat boy next time -- she could order him to put his tongue on the floor and keep it there.

"Good idea, Arthur -- you faking a trance too. Apparently this suggestion only passes from male to male. It hasn't evolved enough yet to use females as carriers."

Then she focused on Dickie. "Are you going to behave now, fat boy? Or am I going to have to make you plant your tongue on the floor?"

"Hungh?! No, I-- Please, I ... couldn't stop what I was doing. Believe me! I would NEVER willingly touch you with my tongue!"

"Hah! Like I would ever LET you touch me with that ugly pink thing, fat boy!"

Dickie got a funny look on his face. "Please ... don't insult me. I-- It makes me feel funny."

Abigail decided that maybe it was for the best not to humiliate him -- she didn't need to be fighting his tongue away from her crotch again.

"Arthur, you can quit faking now," she sighed. "Arthur? Oh, shit! He really WAS in a trance! GodDAMMIT!"

Arthur blinked, blinked again, then looked at Dickie. "Oh, shit! You slipped free! Abigail," he turned to look at her, "are you okay? Did Dickie soil you?"

"Naw, she's already BEEN soiled," Dickie snickered.

"Shut up, fat boy!"

Dickie whimpered and looked like he was going to drop to his knees.

"Oh, for chrissake!" she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are you feeling ... 'humiliated'?" This was going to be like walking on eggshells if they weren't careful here.

"A ... a little. God, what is HAPPENING to me?! I am just so ... pathetic." With another whimper, he dropped to his knees.

"Dickie?" she sighed, careful not to call him "fat boy" which might humiliate him into being a 300 pound pussy pest again.

"I-- I'm okay. I'm just going to stay here on my knees for a little while, though."

"Arthur? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Besides the fact that ... I let Dickie go ... to almost soil you. God, I am SO sorry!"

"Look," she interrupted before he could start feeling bad about himself too, "it's okay. I'm fine. You did a good job."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now go bring Mom and Mrs Grayson down."

Arthur ran upstairs, and Abigail looked at Dickie on his knees and sighed. It was going to be hard to keep the fat boy's ego propped up.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"All with ... contempt ... like that." His tongue darted out of his mouth and flicked a couple times. "Oh, no. It's starting again."

"Dickie! Dickie! I BELIEVE in you. You can resist!"

"No! No I can't! I'm ... PATHETIC!" Tongue again.

"Uhm, guys," Arthur called from the top of the stairs, "something happened."

When he came down the stairs a few moments later, Candace's hair was up in pigtails. And she and Mrs Venturi were nervously sharing the lollipop.

---

"She must have tranced," Abigail shook her head, "and Mom must have infected her with the 'little girl' virus."

"Ohgod! This is somehow ALL MY FAULT!" Dickie wailed. Then the tongue flicking.

"What's the matter with Di-- with Di--" Candace started, then stamped her high-heeled foot, "with Daddy?" Lollipop lick.

"Don't even ask," Abigail shook her head, disgusted with the way the foursome were coming apart.

"I'm ... PATH--"

"DON'T!" Abigail snapped at the fat boy. "Don't even START!"

Dickie's eyes got wide, then he started knee-walking toward her with an anguished look and the tongue-thing going.

"Goddammit! You ARE pathetic! Can't you bear up without wallowing in guilt?! You ARE pathetic!"

She ... probably shouldn't have said that.

Dickie leaned back, then rolled back on his ass, unzipped, pulled the little fella out and began frantically yanking on it. "Ohgod! Ohgod! I AM pathetic! I can't-- I can't even stop myself from playing with myself in front of you! Ohgod, the SHAME! The SHAME!"

Abigail just held her hand to her brow and gave a chuckle of despair. This group was ... hopeless.

"Ohgod, that's awful!" Arthur scowled. "What's WRONG with him?!"

"Now I'm AAAAWWWFUL!" Dickie wailed and jerked his penis even harder. "Look at me! I'm PLAYING WITH MYSELF for your bitch sister ABIGAIL. And I CAN'T STOP!"

Candace and Mrs Venturi were leaned forward, scowling in amazement at the masturbating fat boy, the lollipop bouncing from one nervous tongue to the next, then back again.

"What's wrong with Di-- with Di-- (foot stamp) with Daddy?" Mrs Venturi asked.

"Don't call him 'Daddy', Mom. He's not-- he's just a wailing little fat boy."

"I'm a WAAAAILING LITTLE FAAAAAT BOY!" Dickie wailed, tears starting to come from his eyes as his penis was manhandled by himself.

"We have to *DO* something, Abigail," Arthur urgently pointed out, "Or he's going to mess the floor!"

"There's nothing we CAN do, Arthur! He's INFECTED with a SUGGESTION to do this!"

Arthur's lip was trembling. "I-- I'm sorry. I don't mean to come apart in a crisis. I just ...."

"Arthur! Arthur, listen to me: you're holding up just fine."

"No, no I'm not. I feel like I'm about ready to throw up, and I'm ... LETTING you DOWN!"

Arthur's tongue poked out. Flicked. Poked out and flicked again while he grimaced with wide eyes. "What's-- what's-- (tongue flicking)."

"Arthur, calm down. Everything is fine."

"I'm ... LETTING YOU DOWN!" He dropped to his knees, rapidly knee-walked toward her, cupped her ass in both hands and tried to plant his face at her crotch.

"Daddy!" Mrs Venturi gasped, then gave several lolly-licks, "you can't *DO* that with your SISTER!"

"I'm PATHEEEEEETIC!" Dickie wailed, like a soft fat bug stuck on it's back, unable to roll back over, but able to masturbate.

"I-- I'm pathetic TOO!" Arthur complained from near Abigail's crotch as she tried to hold his face back from there.

"Daddy!" Mrs Venturi spoke between licks, "You ARE acting pathetic! Now quit trying to lick your sister's puss!"

"I-- I-- I *AM* pathetic?! Ohgod, I'm SORRY, Mom! Ohgod, NO!" Arthur sank back onto the floor and began unzipping.

"Arthur!" Abigail gasped, "Don't!" She tried to pull his hands away from his fly.

"Abigail!" Mrs Venturi gasped, "Get your hands away from Ar-- from Ar-- (foot stamp) from Daddy's pecker!"

"I can't STOP myself!" Arthur complained as he freed his penis "I *AM* pathetic!"

Abigail had to retreat from his crotch lest she accidentally get brushed with her brother's erect penis. Which would just be weird. She looked down at him sadly.

"I'm PATHETIC!" he declared, his hand a blur.

"*I'M* pathetic!" Dickie warbled, also man-handling his own meat.

The two women were so nervous they were simultaneously licking opposite sides of the lollipop.

"Abigail! Look at me! I'm your BROTHER and I CAN'T STOP masturbating in front of you! I'm PATHETIC!"

"No, look at *ME*!" Dickie wailed. "I'm just a LITTLE FAT BOY, and I DESPISE you, you bitch, and I HATE masturbating in front of you like some PATHETIC LITTLE MONKEY that JUST CAN'T HELP HIMSELF, but ... but I JUST CAN'T HELP MYSELF!"

"No!" Arthur gasped, "*I'M* more pathetic! *I* can't even stop handjobbing myself in front of my OWN SISTER!"

This was ... simply impossible. Abigail sighed and--

Ohgod, the two women had nervously progressed from licking opposite sides of the lollipop to licking each other's tongue. And Mrs Grayson's hand had just moved on top of her mother's breast.

"All of you ARE! You ARE ALL PATHETIC!" And Abigail was exasperated.

"Ohgod! Ohgod! Ohgod!" Dickie wailed as he shot his load, spraying it all over the floor.

"You really think-- ?! You really think I *AM* pathetic, Abigail?!" Arthur gasped, then, "Ohgod!" as he fired too.

Her mother and Mrs Grayson were nervously sticking their tongues inside each other's mouths now.

She felt a hand on her calf and looked down to see where Dickie was wiping his cum globs off the floor and onto her.

"You PIECE of SHIT!" she screeched.

"I'm a ... PIECE of SHIT!" he rolled to his knees, cupped her ass in his hands and leaned in.

"You're pathetic!" she shot at him in self defense, and the fat boy leaned over on his back and began self-pumping again. But at least he wasn't touching her with his sperm.

"I-- I just-- I just masturbated in front of you!" Arthur gasped. "That's so-- that's so PATHETIC!" His hand crept back to his crotch. "I'm-- I'm PATHETIC!"

"Arthur ... don't," she asked him.

"I-- I can't HELP myself, Abigail! Oh, look at me! I can't stop masturbating in front of you!"

He was at full stroking rhythm now.

And the two women had their fingers reached up under each other's miniskirts now as they moaned and licked tongues.

Abigail ... turned around, walked back into the study and shut the door.

---

Abigail read into the wee hours of the night, trying to find some lead to a solution that might help her family and the rest of the town. She was driven by until the fact that she was the only one unaffected, that she was their only hope, until she finally dropped off to sleep.

She awoke to a cloud of despair the next morning -- she was no closer to a solution than when she started. She still had no idea what was CAUSING the periodic trances, she had no idea how to STOP them, but she DID have an inkling where all this was heading.

These personality viruses that were passing from person to person through suggestions were not unlike organisms competing for survival as described by evolutionary theory. And that meant that ....

She didn't even like to think about that.

She HAD to find a way to help.

She HAD to.

Pulling herself to her feet, she headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, halfway expecting to find Dickie or Arthur still wanking on the floor, trying to prove who was the most pathetic.

There were no pathetic masturbators on the floor, though.

As a matter of fact, there turned out to be noone in the house.

Cursing, she stepped outside and started searching the neighborhood for the other four.

---

Dickie vaguely remembered feeling that he was supposed to be at the bus stop bench on the corner. He remembered bits and pieces of leaving the house and walking there, and of people telling him things while he sat there.

Things were a little hazy after that until he came upon Abigail and a woman talking on the sidewalk.

"... that everything is perfectly okay--" the woman was saying when Dickie interrupted her.

"Ma'am? Excuse me. Is that your purse by that bench?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"Thank you," he nodded, then casually strolled over to sit on the bench.

As she went back to talking to Abigail, he unzipped and pulled out his penis as nonchalantly as possible.

He practically trembled as he stroked, anticipating what he was going to do!

When he was ready, he grabbed the purse, unzipped it, then unloaded cream all over the contents inside.

Smiling smugly, he zipped it closed again and set it back in the spot where he found it.

Loaded with a nice surprise for the pretty lady. She reach into it unsuspectingly later and get her hand all gummed up with Dickie sperm. And she'd wonder what in the world it was, might even stick her finger in her mouth to taste it -- to taste Dickie sperm! -- but still would be bewildered!

He suspected he'd been given a suggestion, to sneak his sperm onto and into other ladies, but God it felt good to comply with it.

His task done here, he walked back over to where Abigail and the woman were talking. "You ready to go back to the house?" he asked her.

"Hungh?" she looked around and him and frowned. "Uh, yeah. I guess. We should do that."

The pretty lady nodded and smiled, then walked over to get her purse and continue on about her day.

Dickie couldn't suppress a smirk when he thought about the fun little surprise he had left inside it. She was soon going to be one of the bitches unknowingly coated in Dickie sperm! It made him hard just thinking about it.

"Why did you guys leave the house?" Abigail asked.

"I don't know. I just ... got the urge to. Who was the woman you were talking to?"

"I don't know. Just some woman. Do you know where the others are?"

When he got back to the house, he was going to have to masturbate into his palm, then find some excuse to shake hands with Abigail. If he didn't slime her up too much, she might even eat without washing her hands and get Dickie sperm into her mouth!

Abigail interrupted his wonderful reverie, "I asked if you knew where the other three are."

"No. I haven't seen them." If his Mom and Mrs Venturi were still in little girl mode, he might trick them or even convince them to try a taste of Dickie sperm! Then their bellies would be all coated up with Dickie seed!

"That's okay, I guess. We'll bump into them sometime."

Not a minute after she said that, they saw Candace and Arthur walking towards them from the other direction. Abigail waved to catch their attention.

"Are you guys okay?" Abigail asked when the two parties came together.

"Doing good, I guess," Paul shrugged.

"You're not in pigtails anymore," Dickie accused his mother.

"No, I ... don't seem to need them," she shrugged.

"Have you been taking good care of Dickie?" Arthur asked his sister, finding himself really excited at the thought of her being a good hostess and doing anything -- especially anything sexual -- that Dickie might want!

"Uhm ... good enough, I guess. He hasn't been wanking in public, if that's what you mean."

God, Dickie hoped one of these bitches snored. If they did, they were going to come to with a mouth full of candy!

"Have you seen Mom?" Abigail asked her brother.

"No. Do you think ... maybe ... she's out showing someone a good time?" Maybe SHE was doing whatever sexual things some man wanted her to do!

"I think we should search for her. It's dangerous out here for you guys accepting suggestions like you do. But let's stay together -- maybe if we do we can get all of us in one place again."

They walked up and down a couple blocks until they saw her. She, too, was without pigtails now.

"Have you been showing anyone a good time?" Arthur asked with a hopeful smile when they were within speaking range. Maybe ... maybe she had FLASHED some guy! Or even given someone head!

She cocked her head at him, then frowned. "I know we're all getting suggestions implanted, but I'd prefer you not talk to me like that, Arthur."

"Uh, right. But maybe you SHOULD be taking better care of our guests, don't you think, Mom? Seeing to their needs?"

"Okay," Abigail sighed and clapped her hands together, "we're once again all together. Let's get back to the house and STAY together. I think that will be much safer with you guys falling into trances."

As they were walking back to the house, Mrs Venturi asked, "Abigail, did you come across anything while you were researching in the study last night that might help us?"

"Not yet."

"What's going to happen to us?" Candace asked. "I feel more lucid now than I have in a couple days, but I just know there are still hidden suggestions laying in my subconscious that are going to make me do things I don't want to do."

"It's-- there are-- I just--" Abigail shrugged.

"What? What's bothering you?"

"Mrs Grayson, these 'personality viruses', these suggestions that make their victims pass them on to others. They're a lot like organisms themselves. They reproduce in a sense when you transfer the suggestion. They compete for victims. A lot of evolutionary theory and conclusions apply here."

Candace took note of the ominous tone in which Abigail spoke that. "And?"

"And ... things are going to get worse here, more brutal. If there's anything that 'survival of the fittest' teaches us, it's that the sneakiest monkey wins. These personality viruses are going to get more aggressive about taking victims, for the simple reason that they'll be overtaken by more aggressive suggestions if they don't."

"More aggressive? How so?"

"So far it's been little steps. Like Arthur's and Dickie's 'wank to the shame' virus last night that only passed from male to male. It may already have mutated to use women as 'carriers' of the suggestion.

"But we're running out of simple, easy improvements. The suggestions, the 'viruses' are going to have to start backstabbing each other now to get a larger percentage of the victims than the others. They're going to have to get more cruel. Maybe victims will start tying others up and waiting around the clock to pass their suggestions along, instead of leaving that up to random chance -- things like that."

Abigail sighed. "Like I said ... the sneakiest monkey wins in situations like this."

"Oh."

"I don't know," Mrs Venturi shrugged, "it seems to me that these 'viruses' are passing along just fine as they are now -- Candy's son certainly managed to infect my son last night with that pathetic masturbator virus."

"I-- I'm sorry, Alice."

"It's not your fault, Candace. Really, it's more Dickie's--"

"No, I ... I did bad. Maybe you should," Candace turned around and cocked out her ass as she lifted her short skirt, "spank me to make me remember to do better in the future."

"Oh, no," Mrs Venturi shook her head.

"She must have some variant of the 'spank me' virus that you had, Mom," Arthur grinned. "It's all YOUR fault that she's like this. Maybe YOU should let Dickie spank YOU so that you don't do bad again."

"If I recall correctly, Arthur YOU were the one that gave me that suggestion originally. So if anyone has done bad, you're going to have to look at yourself."

"C'mon, Mom, let Dickie spank you. Please?" God! She already HAD let Dickie spank her! It would be so good if she would just let him spank her SOME MORE!

"No, certainly not."

---

They reached the house then and entered.

"Abigail," Mrs Venturi asked, "would you like some tea before you go back to work in the study?"

"Yeah, that would good. Thank you."

"Everyone have a seat at the table. I'll fix tea all around."

"You still ought to let Dickie spank you, Mom. Just a couple swats. After all, he's our guest and--"

"Hush up, Arthur."

She set out five tea cups, then began boiling water.

As her back was turned, Dickie strolled by the cabinet and casually picked up one of the tea cups, then walked into the living room.

God! SOMEBODY was going to be TASTING some SPERM!

He fumbled excitedly at his pants, got them partway down, then began stroking, holding the tea cup to catch the pornographic condiment he was going to squirt in just a minute.

Abigail startled as she came around the corner and saw that scene.

Dickie frowned when he realized she had caught him, but his hand continued its stroking. "I, uh ... was just going to leave someone a little treat."

"Ohgod! You're-- ?!" She took a breath. "That's ... that's okay, I guess. You're under the power of a suggestion. Everything is ... perfectly okay." She continued on to the study to jot down a couple ideas for further research.

Ohgod, Dickie wanted it to be Mrs Venturi that drank from this cup, her stomach all seeded up with Dickie cum!

He strangled his gasp as he shot the condiment into the cup. Then he zipped and walked back out to the kitchen.

"Oh, that's where that cup went," Mrs Venturi was already pouring tea in the first and second cup. "Bring it here."

Dickie left the cup on the cabinet and walked to sit at the table.

"What?" she halted before pouring the tea into that last cup. She leaned closer and peered into it. "Dickie ... what did you put into this cup?"

Dickie just stayed at the table and smirked.

"Dickie! Is this what I think it is?!"

"What is it, Mom?" Arthur wandered over. "What did he do? What is that? Did he-- Dickie, did you ejaculate into this cup?!"

"I wanted to give your mom a special treat."

"He ... he creamed all over your tea cup?! Ohgod, Mom, you HAVE to drink it now!" She just HAD to!

"What?! No way!"

"Oh, but Dickie put spunk all over the bottom of your tea cup for you to drink! You HAVE to drink it down!"

"Don't be INSANE!"

"You WANT to! You KNOW you want to!"

"I want no such thing! I think it's repulsive that the little pervert would SNEAK AROUND and SOIL the cup with his ... his SEMEN! That is simply OBSCENE!"

"Then why did you pour tea in that cup?"

"Pour? I did no such--" she looked down, and she had indeed poured tea into the soiled cup as she had ranted to Arthur.

"You HAVE to drink it! You WANT to! You KNOW you do!"

"Stop that!" she scowled as she took a teaspoon and began stirring the sperm into the tea. "I know you're not yourself, that you are under the effect of suggestions, but you STOP that, young man! I do NOT want to taste any of that boy's disgusting semen!"

She stuck the teaspoon in her mouth to lick the tea off it, then set it on the counter.

"You just DID! You just DID taste Dickie sperm!"

"I what?! I did not!"

"You just stuck the soiled spoon in your mouth!"

"I did NOT! I--" she looked at the spoon laying on the counter, the spoon she had just used to mix the obscene cream in with the rest of the tea, the spoon she had just subconsciously popped into her mouth to lick off the excess tea. And sperm. "I-- I didn't MEAN to."

Dickie was there at the counter, unzipping. "Do it AGAIN, Mrs Venturi! Do it again! Drink some MORE of the tea I flavored for ya!"

"Ohgod, Dickie! Stop undressing, for chrissakes!"

"Do it! Do it, Mom! You KNOW you subconsciously crave MORE of it!"

"I do NOT, young man! And YOU," she glowered at the fat boy, "STOP UNDRESSING!" Christ, she thought as she reached for the cup and saucer, what had gotten INTO these two?! She slurped a sip of tea, then set the cup down. "Now I want you two to go and--"

"You DID it! You DID it, Mom! I KNEW you wanted to! Deep down inside you WANTED to!"

"Wanted to what?!"

"The tea! You just drank some more of the spermish tea!"

"No, I--" She realized that she HAD just sipped some more of the tea. And of Dickie's sperm cream. "Oh. My. Gawd!"

What was going on?! COULD she subconsciously want to slurp the little fat boy's sperm?! Could someone have given her a suggestion that permitted her subconscious to control her hands when her mind strayed?!

No. Impossible. There was NO PART of her that ... wanted to taste ... the fat boy's sperm!

"Yeah! You like it, bitch!" Dickie leered.

"Drink the rest of it!" Arthur encouraged. "You want it! You want to drink the rest of Dickie's sperm!"

"No, I absolutely WILL NOT do any such thing! I have no intention of--" She realized that her fingers had brought the contaminated tea cup to her lips and that they were tipping the glass. She had to either drink the tea as it was poured, or let it dribble down her chin and burn her neck.

She swallowed mouthful after mouthful until the entire contents had been poured into her mouth. Only then did her fingers return the tea cup to the counter. "Ohgod! What have I DONE?!"

"You drank it, bitch! You drank it all!" Dickie gloated. "You drank ALL of me, you horny bitch! Does my cum taste THAT GOOD? It MUST!"

"Ohgod! It was like I couldn't control my hand!" Mrs Venturi blurted. "It was like it wasn't listening to me!"

"It was listening to your subconscious!" Arthur firmly espoused. "You secretly WANTED to drink Dickie's cum!"

"Ohgod, have some more, then!" Dickie fumbled to get the empty cup in front of and under his cockhead to capture the spunk as he grunted and squirted again.

After shivering as he unloaded, he set the cup back on the counter. "Go ahead, have some more. You know your subconscious wants to."

"No, I--" Her hands reached for the cup, then two fingers of her right hand swiped a glob out of the bottom. "No! I don't WANT--!"

Her fingers slipped into her open mouth, where her tongue licked them clean.

"Ohgod, what is HAPPENING to me?!"

"Your hands are listening to your subconscious instead of you! God, you WANT this!" Arthur was ready to pee his pants! THIS was how bitches OUGHT to take care of male guests!

"I-- no-- I--" She looked at the kitchen doorway to see Abigail standing there. Had she watched her mother sip spermish tea?! Had she watched her slurp the fresh sperm from her own fingers?! "Abigail, I--"

"No, it's ... okay. It's perfectly okay. Whatever you want to do with Dickie's sperm is ... okay."

---

"But I-- I didn't mean for-- I just--" Mrs Venturi stammered, trying to explain her high sperm consumption rate.

"Let's," Arthur clapped his hands, "go sunbathe at the pool!" In an aside to Dickie, "I'm sure I can talk her subconscious into undressing for you, man!"

"I don't--"

"Come on, Mom! You KNOW you want to! Your subconscious can barely stand NOT to! And you too, Abigail! Dickie's our guest, and we should show him a good time! Wear your skimpiest bikinis!"

"That's ... okay," Abigail nodded, then turned and headed off to her room.

"There is no way that I am going to go dress in a bikini so you two boys can ogle me!" Mrs Venturi stood her ground firm, then headed back to her bedroom to change into her bikini.

Dickie, meanwhile, hurried back to Abigail's room. He cracked the door and peeked inside. If he could just ... sperm up the cup of her bikini top or something, that would be so ... !

Ohgod!

There were her bikini top and bottom on her bed while she did something in the adjoining bathroom!

Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod!

Dickie unzipped and stroked a few times, then ... dashed across the room, fired into the bra cup and dashed back out.

Man, she was going to be pissed as a hornet, but he was going to slime up her tit with Dickie cream! God! She'd be just ... all ed-ed up!

Her whole breast might get covered and creamed up before she realized! She was going to scream like a siren about it, but she'd still be slimed! With Dickie-juice!

He hurried back downstairs and waited for that delightful squeal of anger from the bitch's room!

When he got to the kitchen, Mrs Venturi was pouring a glass of lemonade to take outside with her.

"Wow! Mrs Venturi, you look GREAT!" he ogled the way her bikini bottoms flossed up between her ass cheeks.

"I, uh--" she blushed, "You shouldn't be looking at me in this outfit, Dickie. It's not appropriate for, uhm ...." For fat little perverts to see her in.

She didn't know what was wrong with her! She didn't want fat little perverts to be staring at her parts, but her body didn't seem to be working right. Whenever her attention wandered off it, it DID things. Things that she didn't want to, like pulling on this bikini. Or sticking the spoon with Dickie's sperm into her mouth to clean it with her tongue.

And sometimes even when her attention was directly on it, her body was doing things, defying her, like when it poured the rest of the tea seasoned with Dickie sperm into her mouth.

And she REFUSED to believe that it was her subconscious overpowering her!

Abigail wandered into the kitchen then, followed by Arthur.

"Oh, good idea," Abigail retrieved a glass, then poured from the pitcher, "I could use some lemonade too."

Dickie frowned: there had been no squeal! Was that the same bikini top he'd squirted spunk into?! He studied it, but it sure LOOKED like the same bikini top.

Could she have not noticed?! The sticky slime smearing around on her tit like jelly around on a doughnut?! No way!

Could it have dried or something ... ?!

"Abigail," Mrs Venturi leaned in and spoke quietly, "I-- my .. hands ... don't seem to be listening to me. They are starting to do things on their own. And so are the ... rest of my body parts. Do you have any idea how I can stop this? Because I don't want to have to--"

"*I* know why!" Arthur spoke loudly from behind them where he had been listening. "It's because you WANT to put your parts on display for our guest! You WANT to strut around and show him and let him have feels of them! You WANT! And your subconscious is MAKING you admit it by taking over at times!"

"No. No, I don't think that's it at all."

"It IS! It IS it!"

Abigail shrugged. "It's okay, Mom. It's perfectly okay. You're ... under the power of some suggestion. Just try to figure out what exactly what the suggestion was."

Candace came out then, in a bikini borrowed from Alice Venturi, and the group headed out to the chairs around the pool.

Dickie studied Abigail's breasts, but didn't see any drips of spunk, though he didn't really expect to. What had happened?! How could she have not noticed?!

Abigail set her lemonade on the table and stretched out in the lounge chair, and Dickie couldn't suppress his curiosity. He finally walked up to her.

"Abigail, when you were putting on your bikini, didn't you ... notice a special little treat left for you in the bra cup?"

"Oh, you mean the sperm?" she squinted as she looked up at him. "Yes. And after seeing you spunk up Mom's tea cup earlier, I FIGURED it was probably yours. But it's okay. It's all perfectly okay. You're under the influence of some suggestion that's making you mark territory with your sperm or something."

"Did you ... wipe it off or something?" He had been looking forward to hearing her angry rage, and here she was being perfectly civilized about it.

"No, it's all still right here," she cupped her right tit, "squishing around between my bra cup and my breast. But ... that's okay. Everything is perfectly okay."

"You're WEARING my SPERM?!" a grin slapped across Dickie's face and stayed, lighting up his expression.

"I guess I am, yeah."

"Oh, MAN, that is cool!"

---

"C'mon, Mom, show them to Dickie! You KNOW you want to sunbathe topless! You KNOW you do!"

"Arthur, cut that out now! I am NOT ABOUT to take my top off in front of that fat little pervert! Nor am I going to take it off in front of you!"

"C'mon, show them to him! I WANT you to! Please! You have the PERFECT excuse -- I'll tell him you always sunbathe topless."

"Arthur, no! Now stop it!"

A grin spread across his face. "But you WANT to! Down inside you KNOW you want to! Your SUBCONSCIOUS wants to!"

"Arthur, my subconscious does NOT want to preen around toplessly in front of my own son and his fat pervert friend! Trust me on this point -- it doesn't!"

Arthur shrugged. "Okay. If that's how you want it."

"It is."

"Then I'll leave you alone about it."

"Thank you," she sighed. As she leaned back in her chair to stretch out--

Her nipples were out.

Her whole breasts were out.

Her bikini top was in her hand, which was setting the tiny scrap of cloth on the table beside her as she leaned back in the chair.

Her ... hands ... must have untied it and removed it while Arthur was smirking at her a minute ago.

Oh ... God. How COULD she?! How COULD her hands do that to her?!

"Ohgod! Ohgod! Ohgod!" Arthur bounced from one leg to the other excitedly beside her chair. "You're topless! They're bared! You're just ... SHOWING ... them to him!"

"I am NOT showing my breasts to him. I'm ... sunbathing toplessly."

"Dickie!" Arthur burst out a yell, then stood beside her pointing down at her. "She's TOPLESS, man! She's SHOWING THEM OFF for you!"

---

"Man, your Mom's topless!" Dickie admired Mrs Venturi sitting across the pool letting the twins get out for a little sunlight. "Does she normally sunbathe without a top?"

"No. But that's, uhm ... okay. Perfectly okay. She's just ... under some suggestion. That's all."

Dickie looked down at Abigail, sitting there VOLUNTARILLY with one bra cup filled with his CUM, letting the substance seep all over her right tit, like some really special jelly!

"The other question is, do you normally wear sperm?" he asked with a smirk.

"No. But it's okay. It's perfectly okay -- you're just under the influence of a suggestion and can't help yourself. You're just ... trying to mark territory or something."

Cool. That's what he was doing: marking territory.

And he was ... ready to mark some more.

While Abigail sat back in her chair there, bra cup filled with sperm, Dickie discreetly sidled behind her. Then he quietly unzipped and set his eyes on her lemonade glass.

Yeah, he stroked, he'd dirty her up on the inside too. And she'd drink it and wouldn't even suspect!

---

Across the pool, Mrs Venturi was too busy with Arthur to notice Dickie wanking behind her daughter's shoulder.

"C'mon, Mom! Play with your nipples for him! Show him what a HOT BITCH you are!"

"Arthur, stop that! I am NOT a 'hot bitch'."

"You WANT to! Your subconscious is just ITCHING to do it! To play with your nipples for him."

"Arthur, you STOP telling me what my subconscious wants to do! You have NO IDEA what my sub--"

Oh, SHIT! A grin just crept across the boy's face.

Mrs Venturi looked down, and--

Crap!

There were her defiant hands, perking up her nips for the showing!

Goddammit!

WHY wouldn't her parts LISTEN to her?!

"Arthur, I am not voluntarily baring my parts for Dickie! I am under the influence of some suggestion!"

"I don't give a fuck Mom, you're still baring them." Then loudly, "Hey, Dickie! She's PLAYING with them!"

Dickie waved his hand in a "hush" gesture as he stood behind Abigail.

"Besides, I've always KNOWN that you secretly liked to show off your body."

"Arthur! I DO NOT!" she objected as she teased her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

"Alice," Candace looked over from her chair, "you really shouldn't be giving yourself a breast massage out here in mixed company."

"I-- I'm not," she shook her head as she continued to tweak nip, "I mean, I don't WANT to. I just can't HELP myself."

"It's her SUBCONSCIOUS that wants to show off her breasts in public and perk up her nipples to tease other men."

"Still, you ought to at least TRY to resist, Alice. My own son is over there getting an eyeful of you, for Chrissakes."

"I-- I'm TRYING to resist!" Her fingers twisting and rolling her erect nipples attested to her failure to do so.

"She's trying her best, Mrs Grayson. It's just that her subconscious keeps overpowering her."

"I-- oh, dear. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come across so short. I've ... offended you. Maybe," she stood, turned her back to them, cocked out her ass and looked back over her shoulder, "maybe you should spank my ass so that I remember to be more polite in the future."

"Come over here," Arthur grinned.

"Arthur! Don't you DARE!" Mrs Venturi complained as she continued to maintain nipples perky for the showing.

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" Candace graciously took her first swat.

"Arthur! You leave her ALONE!"

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" for the second swat.

"Mom, you OUGHT to be showing off your ass for Dickie too!"

"Arthur! Don't even--"

"Oh, you know you want to. Stand up and take off your bottoms too."

"Arthur! Stop it! And stop spanking Candace!"

"Oh! Thank you, sir!"

---

"What's Arthur waving at?" Abigail sat forward and twisted around to look.

Dickie stood behind her, cock in hand.

He froze, panicked, caught.

Abigail's eyes moved from his erection to the glass of lemonade vulnerably within squirting distance underneath it.

Then her eyes flicked to his, a question, an accusation.

"I ... uh ..."

"Dickie, are getting ready to squirt sperm into my lemonade?"

"I-- uhm-- yeah." He shrugged, hand still on cock. "But-- I can't help myself. It's the ... the suggestion."

"Mmkay," she shrugged and sat back.

Dickie stayed frozen. This was like in the horror movies, where the characters thought the danger had passed and then suddenly it sprang back on them. She was going spin around and take his head off.

But she just sat there, her back to him.

"It's ... okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's okay. It's all perfectly okay."

Wow.

Cool.

"Would you hold the glass for me? If you tilt it just a little bit, I can hit it a little better when I squirt."

"Okay," she sat up, turned around in the seat and held her glass of lemonade, slightly tilted, under the Dickie-prick.

"Okay?" He was still astounded.

"It's all perfectly okay. Go ahead and muck up my juice."

"Oh, MAN, this is GREAT! You're okay with this?"

"It's all perfectly okay."

---

Mrs Venturi was standing there topless, in just bikini bottoms, bent partially over, ass cocked out toward Arthur while her hands defiantly reached toward the tie strings of her bottom.

Mrs Grayson was stretched out across Arthur's lap, muttering, "Oh! Thank you, sir!" with each swat, getting embarrassingly wet over being spanked by the boy.

"No, Mom," he spoke, "point it around toward Dickie. He's the one you want to show your ass off to."

"Goddammit, Arthur!" she complained as she shuffle-rotated around to point ass at Dickie. "I don't WANT to do this!"

Her fingers fumbled with the tie strings, the bikini bottom dropped to the cement, and the beautiful globes of her ass and the pussy in between were left on display for the fat boy.

"Apparently your subconscious does," Arthur smirked. "And the subconscious wins."

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" Candace wriggled her hips on his thigh.

"Now call Dickie! Tell him to look! Let him know what a HOT BITCH you are!"

"Arthur, I will NOT!"

"Your subconscious wants to."

"My subconscious can go to hell!"

"Call him, Mom!"

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" Candace's ass took another little swat and dribbled a little more lubricant.

"No!"

"I think you'd better."

"No!" her body stayed bent over, displaying naked pelvis from the back, but she would be damned if she was going to deliberately call attention to it.

"Because I think that if you don't, your subconscious is going to threaten to stick it's finger up your ass, at which point *I'LL* call Dickie, because something like that is worth seeing!"

"Arthur, I think you're--" She felt her right hand move to her thigh, trace its fingernails around the hip just a little, lightly slap, then squeeze the buttock.

"Goddammit, cut it out!" she cursed at her body and subconscious.

The fingernails taunted her, lightly scratching the ass cheek.

"Stop this! We don't WANT this!" she tried to reason with her subconscious, but the fingernails insisted on teasing the cheek.

Then the middle finger traced along the crack between the buttcheeks.

"Stop it! Stop it! We DON'T WANT to show our body to a fat little pervert!"

Her middle finger burrowed deeper into the crack between the cheeks.

"Look," she said, her voice quivering a little, desperate to make a deal with her subconscious, "if you really want to show us off, let's put the bikini back on, and I'll prance around here all afternoon, teasing the hell out of these boys! Okay?"

Her finger found her anus and made happy, insistent little circles there.

"Please!"

Happy little circles.

"Now you listen to me!" she suddenly tried to take a strong hand with her subconscious, "You are going too-- OOH! OOHGOD!"

The finger had pushed past her anus and slipped in to the second knuckle.

"Ohgod! Ohgod! Why?! Do you want to show off in front of the boys that bad?!"

The finger slipped out a half knuckle, then back in again.

"Okay! Okay! Take our finger out of our ass, and I yell for the boy to ... look at us! Okay?!"

The finger wriggled around just inside for a moment, then ... slipped out.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

Her right hand lightly gave an, "Attaboy, go get'em, tiger," pat to her right ass cheek.

Now it was time for her to complete her end of the bargain. The finger was out of her ass, it was time for her to call the fat little pervert and ask him to watch her be naked. But she just didn't want to ... do that ....

Her right hand lightly patted her ass to remind her: call the fat boy.

With a sigh, Mrs Venturi shook her head, then called, "Dickie! Dickie! Look at me! I'm naked! Look at me!"

Her face was pointed away from him, so she couldn't see if he was looking, but--

Her left hand gripped her left ass cheek and pulled it lightly to the side. Her right hand moved in an exaggerated circle, then made an upside-down "fuck you" gesture.

"What--?! What are you DOING?!" Her subconscious was UP TO SOMETHING!

"Oh! Thank you, sir!" Candace gasped from Arthur's lap.

"Do it! Do it!" Arthur tensed excitedly.

"What are you DOING?! We had a DEAL! Stop this! I'm SHOWING him our ass! That was the DEAL!"

Keeping the "fuck you" gesture, her right middle finger exaggeratedly traced the crack of her ass three times.

"What are you DOING?! We had a DEAL! I KEPT MY end of the deal! You keep yours!" God, she hated subconsciouses. They were not to be trusted.

"OhGAAAWWWWD!" she brayed as the finger burrowed past her anus. "It's up my-- it's up my AAAAASSSSS!"

"OhGOD! Thank you, sir! Give me another one!" Candace's hips were grinding against Arthur's excited thigh.

"Show him, bitch! Show him your finger up you butt!"

"Ohgod, thank you, sir! Give me another one!" Candace was getting her butt spanked at a more excited pace now as Arthur bunched up with excitement that his hot bitch mother was showing her stuff off!

Mrs Venturi was dying in shame as her right hand pulled out of her ass, gave an exaggerated thumbs-up gesture for Arthur and the fat boy to see, then shifted back to the "fuck you" gesture and went back in for some more quality ass-frigging.

This, apparently, was her subconscious's idea of keeping its end of the deal ....

---

Good God! Dickie loved this!

Mrs Venturi was on the other side of the pool, fingering her own asshole, utterly insistent that everyone watch!

Abigail was in front of him, head turned to watch, muttering nervously, "It's okay. It's all perfectly okay."

And Dickie -- though the thought of squirting into Abigail's lemonade was awfully tempting, he suddenly wanted so badly to-- to--

His first squirt caught her on the upper side of the cheekbone, startling her! As she turned her head to see what was happening, his second squirt globbed a line from the side of her right nostril, down across her lips to her left chin just below her mouth! The rest of the squirts he aimed for the cleavage between her boobs!

The bitch was marked as his! Semen-stained!

"Dickie! You got me in the face! But ... that's okay ... it's perfectly ...."

She started to reach up to wipe the slime off her face, but Dickie stopped her. "No, no: please, leave it."

"Uhm, Dickie, I ... can't walk around with your cum all over my face and breasts ... it's ... okay, I guess ... perfectly okay ...."

"Okay?" he was elated.

"Yeah ... okay. Although, it's going to drip."

"Still, leave it. Just ... lick the bit off your lips, okay?"

Lick it off her lips?! The fat little pervert had just ejaculated all over her face and breast by surprise. Now he wanted her to leave it there, grossing up her face like she was some slut that sucked men off regularly -- though even THEY had too much dignity to let the guys squirt them in the face.

But ... it was all perfectly okay.

Her tongue came out, moved around her upper and lower lip to lick the spunk-cream off, then she swallowed.

Dickie's prick swelled anew! God! She SWALLOWED!

SOMETHING was UP with her! It HAD to be! Normally she would have freaked just at Dickie squirting into her bikini top! Here she was holding her glass so he could flavor her lemonade with sperm, licking his cum off her lips and swallowing it! And not even pissed off about ANY of it!

---

"Ohgod, Daddy!" Candace ground her hip against Arthur's thigh, "Don't stop! Spank me!"

Arthur frowned. "'Daddy'? Is that left over from--"

"No, I'm just horny out of my mind, Arthur. Now, PLEASE let me--" She stood, turned around and grabbed the waist of his swim trunks. "PLEASE let me slide these off, Daddy!"

With a surprised grin, Arthur raised his hips, and Candace slid his shorts to the ground. "Ohgodyeah!" she shut her eyes as she leaned in and licked his cockhead.

"Candace?! Stop that!" Mrs Venturi complained, still bent over with her middle finger obviously inserted up her ass. "Stop giving my son head!"

"Oh, you ... should talk ... ass-slut!" Candace spoke around slurping Arthur's cock.

"Mom," Arthur sighed, "don't you think your subconscious would like to show Dickie how you play with your pussy? So he doesn't think you only get off anally?"

"My subconscious is no longer in control here! I am NOT going to be taking orders from it anymore!" This said as she still had ass in air, finger up butt for the viewing pleasure of the fat little pervert. "My subconscious reneges on deals, so I am not going to make any more deals with it. It's simply going to have to stay suppressed! *I* am going to be the one making the decisions around here from-- OOH!" She shivered as she felt her middle finger withdraw from her ass.

"Daddy, please ...," Candace eased her way up Arthur, "please let me just ... straddle you like this ...," she stepped across his lap, lowered her pussy onto and around his prick, unable to keep a little juice from dripping onto his thighs as she did so, then wrapped her arms around his neck and melted to him, "and you can ... fuck me while you ... still spank me, Daddy ...."

"Yeah," Arthur grunted, "this is ... a pretty good position."

"Thank you ... thank you, Daddy ...," she nuzzled him, crotch stuffed full.

Meanwhile, "Stop this! Stop this! STOP THIS!" Mrs Venturi complained to her body and subconscious as she stood up and turned around. "I am NOT going to be CONTROLLED by you! I assert my will right here and NOW!"

Ignoring her, her body sat in the lounge chair, hooked her right leg over the chair's arm, then hooked her left leg similarly to spread herself widely.

"Ohgod!" she whimpered. "Look -- please, we can make a deal, okay?"

Her right hand moved to just in front of her face and flipped her a bird.

"Wait! We can deal! Look, you don't have control over our voice. *I* have control over that! So if we're going to call and get the fat boy's attention, you're going to need MY cooperation! And there are certain things that I am not willing to do. So if you want any help from me, you're going to have to--"

Her right hand came up in front of her face and flicked her nose just then, and she flipped herself another bird. Then her hand went down between her legs.

"No ... no, you're not going to get my cooperation that way ... you're ... oh! ... oh, goodness ... !"

---

"Gosh, has anyone told you how pretty you look in sperm?" Dickie told Abigail.

"Everything is ... perfectly okay," she reminded herself quietly, then "Th- thank you, Dickie."

"Let me spread it around on you a little bit, okay? Get you all coated up good in it."

"Everything is ... perfectly okay ... everything is ... perfectly okay ... everything is-- OH!"

Dickie dabbed his fingers in one of the globs just above her cleavage and began spreading it around, then copped a feel of tit through her top.

"I, uh ... everything is ... uh, perfectly okay ...."

He copped another couple feels, then lifted the bottoms of her bra cups so her breasts sprang free, one still clean, one already pre-slimed. "Ohgod! Dickie, I-- ! Uhm ... everything is perfectly okay! Everything is perfectly okay!"

"God, these are GREAT!" Dickie enthused, spreading the semen icing all over them.

"Here," he unzipped and dropped his shorts to the ground, then pulled her hand and wrapped it around his erection, "you hold this while I get you all gummed up good."

She held his erection while he spread the semen around on her face, then reached down to keep the boobs moisturized as well.

"Everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ... perfectly fine ...."

"Oh, MAN! I'm getting ready to CUM again! And you ... you just GOTTA let me squirt you in the eye! I'm sorry -- that's the hypnotic suggestion talking, but still ... you just GOTTA let me squirt you in the eye!"

"Dickie, I don't think-- I don't think that--" he was pumping right in front of her eyes like he was ready to blow, so she shut them. "Everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ...."

"Unngh!" he grunted as he bullseyed her. Then bullseyed her other eye. Then he aimed the rest of the squirts for her lips until he was done cumming and mashed his softening penis up against her mouth. "C'mon, bitch! Clean it."

"Everything is ... perfectly fine ... everything is ... perfectly fine ...," she reminded herself over and over as she let his genitals slip into her mouth and cleaned the cum off them with her tongue.

---

Mrs Venturi's fingers were plunged deep inside herself, moving frantically -- her body's idea of how to "persuade" her to be more cooperative. But she wasn't about to cooperate with it or with her subconscious. "You can't ... you can't make me ... no matter what ... you do to me ... I won't ... I won't ... call Dickie ...."

She had felt the upwelling of arousal from her body, sensations that she had never felt the likes of. But her body couldn't bribe her, and her subconscious couldn't sucker her. She was NOT going to let these ... inhumanly strong waves of arousal ... cloud her judgment.

"There are ... some lines ...," she panted to her stubborn, highly aroused body, while her insistent fingers diddled at her twat, "... I just won't cross ... some things ... I just won't do ... and ... and you can't make ... you can't ... make ... OHSWEETMOTHEROFGODOHGODOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCK!"

Her legs stiffened, her back arched, she sucked in air, then wailed again.

The other four stopped what they were doing just to watch, out of respect for such an incredible climax.

When she finally coasted down, she was much more amenable to her subconscious. An orgasm like that always puts you in a better mood for the rest of the day, and Mrs Venturi guessed she was ready to listen to some of what her subconscious was suggesting to her.

---

That's when they came.

Over the walls around the back yard, through the gates at the house, they stormed in.

Seth's angry soldiers.

Mrs Venturi was yanked from her post-orgasm, bound naked and strung from a pole by which two men carried her.

Arthur had his hands and feet tied behind him and moaned as the pole used to carry him yanked his shoulders and hips the wrong way.

Candace and Abigail tried to escape, but were taken down before they could clear the walls, bound and ported like carcasses of meat to the church.

Dickie was too fat to carry, so the Holy Soldiers tied a rope around his neck and made him run behind them or choke.

The Holy Army took the sinners back to the church then. They only struck one household at a time. This was slower, but it did not give the neighbors time to prepare against them.

At the church, the five were tied to stakes. Candace saw Angie among the people binding her, and in desperation, trying to create a distraction by which they might escape, she cried out, "You learn sin, bitch!"

But Angie, rather than collapsing in climax as Candace hoped against hope she might still do, that she might distract the "Holy Soldiers" enough that one or more of the five might escape -- instead Angie just ignored her.

Stephen came up to Candace a few minutes later, sneering. "You have no power over her, sinner. She is one of the truly righteous, for she has taken a spike and plunged it into her own ears, to rupture her eardrums, so that she cannot be swayed from the righteous path by sinners like you."

"Stephen ... what has happened to you? What have you done?"

He spat on her.

"You will be righteous soon, Candy. Just you wait. You will be righteous soon too!"

Various "Holy Soldiers" came and went, keeping the five and others under surveillance, like fruit being watched for its moment of ripeness.

Mrs Venturi was the first to slip off into trance. The entire crowd of "Holy Soldiers" surged then, loudly reciting the suggestions Seth had crafted, drowning out every other sound.

When she came out of the trance, she was untied and taken away.

The next morning, Mrs Venturi was helping to bind the sinners to the stakes to await their "holy revelation" when they next tranced.

When Dickie brought up the subject of feeding time, he was mocked -- mocked! -- and told he could suffer until made righteous.

Arthur went next, trancing off about 10:00 in the morning and becoming a newly minted citizen in God's and Seth's righteous army.

"What," Candace asked, her mouth like cotton since no water had passed her lips since yesterday, "did you say about ... things getting more brutal ... Abigail?"

"The ... sneakiest monkey wins. That's also ... the cruelest monkey."

More time passed, but no food or water did.

Candace went next, at noon the next day. By 6:00 Pm, she was taunting the fat boy, that he wouldn't eat again until he was righteous.

There were trickles of blood from each ear, left as proud declarations that she was one of those that had become truly righteous, puncturing her eardrums so that she could receive no new suggestions that might corrupt the ones already given to her by the "Holy Army".

Abigail went the next morning, and she and Candace harassed Dickie that evening.

Dickie lost 35 pounds before a trance ended his old personality, that a new righteous one might be installed in its corrupt place.

They never knew what really was the cause of the trances people entered, but Seth's Holy Army slowly and irresistibly grew.

Because the sneakiest monkey wins.

End of Part 2 [0 1 2 3]


© 2004 Jafar
ogre@securenym.net
http://www.asstr.org/~Jafar/

Please encourage our authors with email

· LB Collection · Story Links · Site Links · Poetry · Submissions · lbworlds Yahoo! · Donations · top ·