Family Hypnotic Eroticism

(I)
I'm just an ordinary college boy, average in height and looks, and my family is just okay. My father is often away on business, and my mother is a typical stay-at-home
mom, virtuous and kind.
The only thing I can boast about is that my mother is definitely outstanding among women in their forties. It's not that my mother looks as youthful and beautiful as a twenty-
year-old girl, but rather that she possesses all the charm of a mature woman.
Putting aside her full and voluptuous body (especially her prominent breasts and buttocks), delicate and fair skin, beautiful and well-defined features, and
long, shiny black hair that reaches past her shoulders, just seeing her gentle and delicate voice, her kind smile, and her elegant and dignified demeanor is enough to make one sigh that the charm of a mature woman is something that a twenty-eight-year-
old girl cannot match.
As for myself, I'm not terrible either. My grades are sometimes good and sometimes bad, I can play basketball, and I'm a bit outgoing, so I've dated a few girls, and
even progressed to home base. But such feelings are rarely lasting. Seeing the girls I dated, I couldn't help but compare them to my mother
, finding fault with them in various ways, and gradually my feelings cooled, leading to nothing.
Then one day, life changed.
It was a typical customer psychology class, a required course for marketing students.
Normally , these classes are spent in a daze, but that day, the teacher inexplicably started talking about other aspects of psychology, somehow
leading to hypnosis.
One student, skeptical, bet the teacher he couldn't be hypnotized and even volunteered to demonstrate. The teacher not only successfully put him to sleep
but even got him to sing a song.
Seeing this, my little brother reacted—not to the ugly frog-like boy, of course, but because at that moment, I thought of my dear
mother. My heart began to stir; thoughts I'd never had before flooded the classroom, almost overwhelming me. Before the class ended, I
hurriedly left and relieved myself several times in the restroom.
That night, in my dream, I saw my mother again and again. Her usually large, bright eyes had lost their sparkle, and she sat slumped in her chair like a puppet, and I was the
one manipulating the puppet strings. I hadn't even... (The sentence is incomplete and ends abruptly.) From then on, I changed my lazy study habits, becoming a regular at the library, voraciously reading about hypnosis and psychology; I also
bought a lot of videotapes; I even pretended to have psychological problems and went to a psychologist's clinic to be hypnotized by a doctor to learn techniques, only to find that the tuition was
too high. Finally, one day, I realized that what I lacked was practice. At that time, summer vacation had just arrived.
Stepping out of the airport terminal, I looked around and immediately spotted my mother in the crowd. She was as beautiful as ever, her charming and delicate face and
mature, alluring figure making her the center of attention wherever she went.
A quick glance revealed at least five or six men secretly observing her, including two foreigners. My mother saw
me then, a bright smile spreading across her face as she waved. I rushed over and gave her a hug.
At first, she stiffened slightly; although we were close, we hadn't been this affectionate since I grew up. But in an instant,
she relaxed, her soft, boneless hands encircling my back, gently pulling me closer.
"You naughty boy, how can you do this to your mother in public?" I could hear a hint of reproach in her voice, but it also held a deep joy; after all, I was
her favorite son.
I tilted my head back slightly, gazing at her beautiful face. Perhaps because she was going to pick me up, Mom had dressed up specially. She had her hair permed into small
waves , which were coiled on either side of her oval face. She also wore a touch of pink lipstick, and a white pearl necklace was wrapped around her neck. Paired with
her black long dress, it made Mom look even more dignified and beautiful.
"Aren't you going to let go? How long are you going to hug Mom?" A blush had crept onto Mom's face. Apparently, quite a few people around were watching us being
so affectionate.
"Let them look, what's wrong with that? I have such a beautiful mother." I retorted, tightening my grip on Mom. This hug pressed
Mom's full, high breasts tightly against my chest. Through the thin fabric, I could feel the amazing elasticity and warmth of Mom's breasts, and my lower body
instantly became incredibly hard.
Mom, however, didn't seem to realize this. She didn't suspect her son was taking advantage of her at all, but she just pushed me away shyly. "How come
you've become so glib since you went away to study?" She finished speaking and gave me a disapproving glare.
My heart skipped a beat; that glare didn't feel like a motherly gesture, but rather like playful banter. But I knew this was just my imagination;
what I wanted, I had to fight for myself.
On the way home, I learned that Dad had gone abroad for a conference and wouldn't be back for over a week.
Back home, Mom started preparing dinner for me and changed into casual clothes. Because of the hot weather in our city, Mom's clothes, though not cheap, were
very thin. She had been busy all day and was slightly sweaty; the clothes clung tightly to her body, outlining her incredibly alluring figure.
I pretended to sit in the living room watching TV, but my eyes kept drifting to Mom, stealing glances at her ample breasts and buttocks, especially the swaying
motion she made as she walked, constantly radiating a fatal temptation. Although I knew Mom was beautiful before, I never imagined she had such a strong allure. My lower body felt so
hot that I immediately wanted to pounce on her.
I kept reminding myself to stay calm—to keep calm for the sake of my dirty plan, for the sake of possessing my mother forever.
Finally, it was dinnertime. My mother's cooking was as delicious as ever, a plentiful and well-balanced meal that gave me a taste of something I couldn't enjoy outside.
But because I was preoccupied, I couldn't focus on enjoying the food. I just answered my mother's questions half-heartedly, constantly thinking
about how to carry out my long-planned scheme.
After a satisfying meal, I said to my mother mysteriously, "Mom, I brought you a gift this time. Wait for me to show it to you."
Then I found a cardboard box in the package.
"Thank you, son, for remembering your mother so well. What is it?"
I took out an exquisite bottle from inside—a small bottle of the new Chanel perfume. I opened the cap and handed it to my mother. "Smell
it, do you like the scent?"
My mother leaned in, her beautiful nostrils twitching slightly. "It smells wonderful, but it's a little different from my previous perfumes."
I chuckled inwardly. This was a specially made perfume for my mother, with added hallucinogenic potion—of course it's different! But my face remained impassive: "This is
the latest model I brought for you, Mom. Look closely, the bottle has the most fashionable design."
I slowly rotated the bottle; the crystal-clear, multifaceted perfume bottle shimmered with different colors under the light, like a glittering starry sky.
"Mom, look closely, each side of the perfume bottle is said to look different in color and luster depending on the angle. The perfume is called Laziquatig
, after a sacred tree in Greek mythology. It's said that each fruit from this tree has a different flavor and
color. This perfume is said to have a different scent every time you smell it." "
As I spoke, I let Mom smell it again, and her eyes began to glaze over and lose focus. But she still responded to what I was saying, continuing to
listen attentively.
I continued, reciting the lines I'd practiced hundreds of times: 'Mom, keep looking at this bottle. See,
don't these different surfaces represent different colors, different moods? If you gaze at each surface, won't you have different feelings?'" "
Mom seems to be gradually losing her judgment. The effects of the hallucinogenic drug, combined with the shifting light, are making her involuntarily obey my words, her
gaze following the slowly rotating perfume bottle.
'Mom, look at this side. Isn't the light red? Red represents anger. You must have many angry things in your life, and you must really want to
resolve them.' And this side is blue. Blue represents monotony. You must have many boring and empty moments at home, and you must sometimes want to
change this boring life. This side is yellow. Yellow looks dirty. As a housewife, you must hate dirty things the most…" I cleverly
replaced each color with something unpleasant.
A look of discomfort slowly appeared on Mom's face. She seemed to want to turn her head away, but she couldn't move and could only continue listening to me.
"Mom, do you want to get rid of these unpleasant colors? You must really want to close your eyes and forget these things. But you can't forget now. Even if you
close your eyes, these colors, these annoying things, will still appear before your eyes." "
Now, your son will teach you a method. Close your eyes and count from ten to one. With each count, exhale, and a color will disappear from your eyes,
representing the worries that trouble you. You will feel incredibly relaxed and comfortable. After you finish counting, there will be no color in your mind,
only the warmest black, and you will enter the deepest, most profound sleep. You will feel no movement, only hear the voice of your beloved son.
Now, begin counting." "
Mom obediently closed her eyes, but her eyelids continued to tremble violently. With each breath she exhaled, the movement of her eyelids
slowed , finally coming to a standstill. Mom seemed to lose all her strength, slumping in the dining chair like the most beautiful
porcelain doll in the house, only now more alive.
My lower body was already swollen and aching. I felt as if I were under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs, vaguely facing this most beautiful dream, gazing at
the woman I loved most, quietly, motionless, at my mercy, at my pampering, at my ravaging.
Although I was trembling with excitement, my last shred of consciousness told me to protect this hard-won achievement; I couldn't immediately lay a hand on Mom.
" "Mom, can you hear me?" I whispered in Mom's ear.
"Mmm…" Mom answered weakly.
"Who am I?"
"You are my son."
"That's right, I am your son. Aren't you the one who loves me the most?"
"Yes, I love you the most." "
Is my happiness the same as yours?"
"Yes."
"Is my pain the same as yours?"
"Yes."
"Is it possible for you to do whatever I want?"
"Yes."
"That means you can do anything for me?" "
Yes."
"Can I make you do anything?"
"Yes." Mom didn't notice the logical difference and simply answered obediently.
"A master can command a slave to do anything, so I am the master and you are the slave?"
"Yes..." Mom hesitated for a moment before replying.
"Repeat it, I am the master, you are the slave."
"You are the master, I am the slave."
I made Mom repeat this several times, both to deepen her obedience and for my own pleasure. The words of obedience flowing from Mom's red lips and white
teeth excited me even more; I felt like I was about to explode. Even having sex with those schoolgirls had never made me feel this way.
"Then, I am both your son and your master." "
You are both my son and my master." Under hypnosis, Mom could only think in straight lines.
"Your master's pleasure is your greatest pleasure. Obeying all your master's commands will make you feel incredibly relaxed. If you have any thought of rebelling against your master, you
will feel cold and uncomfortable all over." I continued to brainwash Mom, instilling in her the slave worldview I had already drafted. After about an hour of repeated confirmation,
Mom finally subconsciously accepted the fact that I was her master.
Watching Mom slowly turn into my beautiful flesh, I could no longer suppress the hunger in my heart. I reached out to enjoy the real feast, extending my demonic claws towards her ...i=60>The ample breasts I'd long coveted. 　　But no sooner had I touched my mother's chest than she began to tremble slightly in resistance, beads of sweat forming on her face. I hadn't expected her to be so resistant; even under hypnosis, incest was a taboo subject for her, and certain parts of her body were off-limits to her son . 　　Knowing that hypnosis couldn't force people to do things they disliked, I wasn't without a countermeasure.

My mother's resistance was expected; after all, I am her son. Even in her dreams, she wouldn't have a physical relationship with me because she
has no such thoughts or desires.
If it were just about having sex with her, that would be relatively easy. I only need to hint to her that I am not her son, but her husband, and she would
readily agree.
However, this is not the outcome I want. I want to unite with her as her son, to make her willingly my sex slave, my possession. For
the past few months, I have craved this constantly. For this outcome, I am even willing to give up the pleasure that is about to be mine.
I stopped violating my mother, trying to soothe her with the gentlest voice: "Relax, it was just a breeze. Relax, you
can't feel anything."
"Your body belongs to you and your husband, and these two people can touch any part of your body, right?" I continued to guide my mother.
"Yes." Hearing my mother's answer, I couldn't help but feel resentment towards my father.
"Sex is very comfortable and wonderful, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"You often want to enjoy sex, don't you?"
"Yes."
"You can't enjoy sex when your husband isn't here, right?"
"Yes."
"Then you crave sex more than before, don't you?"
"Yes." Mom seemed to think for a moment.
"Have you tried masturbating?"
"Yes." I never expected Mom to have this side to her; it was completely different from the dignified and virtuous mother I remembered.
"Do you masturbate often?"
"Rarely."
"Your husband has been away from you for several days, and today you are especially thirsty, especially craving his comfort. Your body is gradually getting hot and itchy, and
you want someone to touch you." I described every possible scenario of a resentful woman to Mom. I saw her face gradually turn red, and her body seemed to react,
shifting slightly restlessly. I wondered what kind of fantasy she was lost in.
I moved my mother's right hand to the area above her vulva and gently pressed it down through her clothes. My mother let out a soft moan and frowned.
"You're alone in your room now, touching your vulva. You really need your own comfort right now."
My mother's hand began to rub her vulva as if no one else was there. Even through the clothes, she skillfully found her sensitive spot and quickly got into
the mood. The blush on her face spread to her neck, and the moans from her nose grew louder.
I had never imagined that I would see my mother masturbating in front of me, let alone that her expression of arousal was so captivating. Her delicate eyebrows
were slightly furrowed and relaxed, as if expressing her inner turmoil and joy; beads of sweat appeared on the tip of her fine nose, whether from the heat or from passion, I couldn't tell; her small mouth was slightly open, emitting a
wet, hot sigh that was utterly alluring. Her thin white t-shirt was already soaked with sweat, revealing glimpses of her ivory-like skin, especially the large patch of snow-white skin
exposed , which hinted at the allure of her breasts. Her rounded yet shapely abdomen was the result of her long-term maintenance and exercise.
Unfortunately, she was wearing a pair of lounge shorts instead of the long dress she had worn that morning, so she wasn't wearing stockings. Her bare legs were certainly plump and attractive,
but they didn't have the same mature and mysterious feel as when she wore stockings.
Gradually, a faint dampness appeared on the front of her lounge shorts near her vulva. Her body writhed more violently, and the frequency of her finger movements increased.
I saw her toes begin to straighten, as if she was about to reach orgasm. I quickly grabbed her rapidly waving right hand to stop her movements.
Then, in as authoritative a voice as possible, I commanded, "Stop! You can't move your fingers."
Although her brows furrowed, showing extreme reluctance, she still managed to stop. But because of my previous strong hints, she obediently stopped. However,
the soft moans between her lips and tongue and the lingering flush clearly told me about my mother's unsatisfied desire.
"Remember this feeling. From now on, you won't be able to reach orgasm through masturbation. At most, you'll get this feeling. You'll always crave masturbation, but
you'll pause before each orgasm; then the next time you masturbate, you'll get closer, but without my command, you can't reach orgasm." I gave my mother
this cruel command; I wanted to conquer her with her own desires.
"When I say 'Open Sesame' to you in a moment, you'll wake up and forget everything that just happened. You'll only remember that we were
talking and that you liked my gift. You won't have any doubts about the strangeness in your body; it's all just because it's too hot. But every time you hear me say '
Slave Mom,' you'll return to your current state. I'm both your son and your master, and you must obey my commands."
"Understood," my mother replied obediently.
"Now, Open Sesame." "
Mom's tightly closed eyes snapped open, her usual radiance returning. Although the effects of the hallucinogenic drug hadn't completely worn off, Mom's consciousness had returned to
normal.
'Thank you, son, Mom really likes this perfume.' Mom automatically resumed the conversation from before the hypnosis.
'You're welcome, I knew Mom would like it.' I tried my best to give Mom my most innocent smile, but I was already looking forward to the show that night.
After half an evening of chatting, it was time to say goodnight.
'Goodnight.' Mom escorted me to my bedroom door like she was seeing a child off, ordering me to go to sleep.
'Goodnight, slave mom.'" "Despite being mentally prepared, I almost let my mother, who suddenly went limp, fall to the ground.
I first held her comfortably in my arms, then softly gave her a series of commands: I am invisible; Mom won't see me in the room,
nor will she be curious about anything unusual.
Then, after making her forget everything except the commands, I regained my senses.
Mom had already said goodnight and turned to go back to her room. To test the effectiveness of my commands, I deliberately hurried after her, trying to block her way, but to my surprise ..."i=59>Mom completely ignored me, even walking around me. It seems the command didn't make her unable to see me, but rather subconsciously excluded all images associated with me. 　　Hypnosis is truly amazing. 　　I followed Mom into her bedroom. As soon as she closed the door, she eagerly began removing her t-shirt and pajamas. Although Mom had mentally forgotten about masturbation, her body couldn't resist the pursuit of pleasure. What a lewd mother of mine, I couldn't help but think.

Soon, my thoughts were drawn to my mother's half-naked appearance. She was wearing black lace lingerie; the bra and panties were a matching set. The demi-
cup bra accentuated her breasts, making them appear almost spill out—fair, plump, and beautiful. Based on my experience, she was probably a D-cup. Her thin panties were even more alluring,
barely covering her large, smooth buttocks. A few stray hairs peeked out from her pubic area, likely from
masturbation . The panties seemed slightly damp, clinging tightly to her private parts, clearly showing the shape of her labia.
As I admired the sight and let my mind wander to my mother's body, she answered my questions with her actions. She unhooked her bra, and her full breasts
sprang out, like two giant white doves fluttering and swaying in the air. They were indeed a D-cup, slightly sagging but noticeably elastic
. Her areolas were deep red, like two tempting ripe grapes, ready to be picked and tasted. Then, her panties came off, which made me even more excited.
My mother 's pubic hair wasn't thick, so I could see the shape of her vulva. Her vulva was pink, obviously because she didn't have much sex. It was still
glistening with moisture, and when I looked closer, it was even slightly pulsating, incredibly tempting. This scene made my little brother almost explode, almost ejaculating
onto my pants.
What happened next made me even more excited. As soon as my mother took off her clothes, she lay down on the bed and, like a woman who had been deprived for a long time, put her fingers into her vulva,
gently kneading it. Soon, her clitoris peeked out, and my mother, as if she had found a treasure, swirled her fingers around it. Meanwhile, my mother's other hand was not to be
outdone, playing with her breasts, rubbing and twisting them until her nipples were as thick as her little finger.
I didn't expect my mother to be so methodical in everything she did, and her masturbation was also very skillful. Watching her, my blood was boiling, and I couldn't help but take out my penis. I stood
less than a meter away from my mother, watching her lewd show, and began to masturbate.
I watched as Mom gradually got into the mood, using her fingers like dildos to thrust in and out of her vagina. She increased the number of fingers from one to two ,
and the speed of her thrusts increased, each time producing a loud smacking sound as she released white, foamy vaginal fluid. Her hands also increased the pressure on her breasts, kneading them into various erotic
shapes. Mom made moaning sounds, tinged with a hint of crying, perhaps trying to hide her pleasure from me
. She kept her voice low, suppressing the waves of pleasure.
However, almost an hour passed, and despite the increasing flow of vaginal fluid, she still hadn't reached orgasm.
Although she didn't understand why, she was tormented, her face a mixture of pain and pleasure. In pursuit of greater pleasure, Mom tried
raising her buttocks and thrusting her fingers in and out from behind.
This was a boon for me; Mom's plump buttocks swayed repeatedly in front of me, her engorged vagina glistening with blood, even her most private anus was exposed
, opening and closing with each thrust.
Seeing this lewd scene, I could no longer restrain myself. I grabbed the water glass from my mother's bedside and ejaculated all my semen into it. Fortunately, my mother was already
lost in the boundless sea of desire and didn't notice anything amiss.
After resting for a while, I saw that my mother was exhausted but still unable to reach her climax. I felt that the first stimulation was enough, so I called out
the command "Slave Mom" to my mother. My mother immediately fell into a hypnotic state, but her fingers remained on her vulva and breasts.
I commanded my mother to fall into a deep sleep and not wake up until the next morning, and I also gave her a few interesting little instructions.
The next morning, I stood in front of my mother's room and heard low but intense breathing coming from inside. I knew that my mother was continuing the game from last night, futilely trying
to reach orgasm. However, orgasm is greatly related to psychology. If there is a certain psychological barrier, no matter how strong the physical stimulation is, it is impossible to accumulate enough energy
to break through it.
The dam I built in my mother's heart firmly blocked her pleasure, leaving her needs unmet and gradually succumbing to a sea of desire,
until I guided this surging sea of desire to break through the barriers between us.
Of course, during this time, I wouldn't give up the opportunity to be close to my mother; after all the time I'd endured, I had to give her something in return.
I knocked on my mother's door, pretending not to hear the moans inside, "Mom, are you up?"
I only heard hurried and flustered voices from inside; clearly, my mother hadn't expected me to be up so early, much less that I would wake her, and she was busy getting ready.
When the door opened, my mother appeared before me, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion. My mother had changed into a white silk nightgown, her snow-white, smooth
arms and most of her beautiful legs exposed. The blush on her face hadn't faded, and her usually bright and intelligent eyes were filled with a hazy mist, as if
telling about her unfulfilled desires, radiating the endless heat of a mature woman. Even more alluring was that Mom wasn't wearing a bra; her still-erect nipples were clearly visible,
like two beautiful roses in bloom. A large puddle of moisture clung to her pubic area, and her dark, curly hair peeked through her clothes. I
held my breath for a moment. Although I had seen Mom naked the night before, I wasn't used to gazing upon such a sight. My little brother immediately stood erect.
Mom had never... (The sentence is incomplete and ends abruptly.)

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