A Beautiful Dream
By Rude Boy, rudeboi66@yahoo.com
John experiences unexpected changes when he allows his mother to hypnotize him to stop smoking.


"Oh, jesus, oh jesus, n--" Tracy Nguyen's instincts took hold as a strong hand
clamped over her mouth from behind. She felt the head of an impossibly thick
cock nestle against her already wet pussy lips, lingering menacingly. She
began to thrash, to fight futilely to free herself, but in an instant her
struggles, her thoughts, indeed her whole world, were subsumed by a new
sensation that tore through her body. She collapsed, heaving as she felt the
incredible girth enter her. It felt as though she might literally tear in half
as the entire length was buried inside her. As it began to pump powerfully in
and out of her, Tracy began to moan uncontrollably into the hand that still
held her mouth closed. In spite of herself, her eyes began to roll back in her
head as the huge dick ravaged her, propelling her towards a shuddering climax.
As the waves of pleasure washed over her, she lay heaving, only vaguely
registering the figure that leaned down over her, the lips hovering
millimeters from her ear. There was a pregnant pause as she continued to
tremble, feeling the hot breath against her neck.

"Damn, baby, keep it down," the figure whispered, "I don't want her to hear
anything."

The cock slid free of her gaping cunt and Tracy rolled over, a look of pure
satisfaction washing over her face as she cooed, "Oh John... you know I can't
help myself when this monster's inside me." She reached out, grabbing his
slick, still engorged cock, biting her lip. "God, you're amazing."

"No you are," John Miller said, planting a soft kiss on her lips before
rolling onto his back and pulling her close. "Speaking of amazing," he said,
luxuriating in comfort and post-coital glow, "This bed is amazing." The queen
mattress was a far cry from the small tatami mat on the floor of their seedy
studio apartment back home. In spite of himself, John felt restless -
compelled by an urge he could not resist. He stood, pulled on his sweats and
grabbed a pack of American Spirits from the bedside table. "I'm gonna have a
smoke. You want one?"

"I'm exhausted,babe" she said, snuggling under the covers. As John reached the
door she said softly, "I had a lot of fun tonight. After you spent all that
time preparing me for the worst - your mom was actually really nice."

He flashed a half-smile, but she was already rolling over, clutching the
comforter and fading into sleep. He gently closed the door behind him and
headed for the porch.

John Miller took a long drag on his cigarette. The evening, he had to admit,
had gone better than he expected.

The first meeting between Tracy, his girlfriend of nearly a year, and his
mother had been a source of no small amount of anxiety. Tracy was a a
firebrand, and his mother... well, overbearing would be a charitable way to
describe Karen Miller. Overbearing in her affection. Overbearing in her
perfectionism. Overbearing in her protectiveness of her son. In fact, this was
his first experience introducing his mother to a girlfriend that could be
described as anything but a disaster. In Karen's eyes, no one was good enough
for her son, and her sniping and passive aggression had led to more than a few
awkward meals, and, in one instance, a full-on shouting match. Meeting his
mother had always been the death knell for John's relationships.

This time, however, things felt different. Over a home-cooked meal and a few
glasses of wine, polite conversation had turned to laughter (mostly at John's
expense). It had been pleasant. Fun, even. Now, home for the holidays, with no
work and no drama, John felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. He smiled as
he took another drag, looking forward to the week to come.

"Those things will kill you, Johnny," Karen remarked as she stepped out to
join him on the porch.

He hated when she called him Johnny. "I know, I know," he muttered. "Tracy and
I keep saying we're going to quit..." he trailed off. He nodded towards the
bedroom, "I just put her to sleep."

"You sure did, from what I heard," his mother replied with a smirk.

"Jesus mom..."

"Oh I'm just playing. But I'm serious about the cigarettes. You need to
quit..." she paused for a moment. "You know, we could always do a session."

John rolled his eyes. This was far from the first time she'd made the
suggestion. A few years before, his mother had left a white-collar career in
middle-management to become a hypnotherapist. John thought it was all new-age
hippy bullshit, but he couldn't deny that she'd been successful, quickly
developing a thriving practice and pulling in six figures. Her success should
not have come as a surprise - Karen Miller was a uniquely determined woman,
dedicated to succeeding at whatever she put her mind to. It was a trait John
had not inherited. "I dunno mom, you know I don't really buy into that stuff."

"John," Karen said, fighting back incredulity, "I've had a lot of success with
getting my patients to stop smoking. Why not just give it a shot? You said you
want to quit, so what's the harm?" She flashed a warm smile.

John was too content to bother getting into an argument over this. "Ok, sure,
mom. I'll give it a try."

"Oh, perfect! Put that nasty thing out and let's head into my office."

"What, now?" John queried, checking the time on his phone. "It's 10 o'clock."

"Oh trust me, it's perfect right before bed. It's very relaxing."

John shrugged and nodded. He dropped his cigarette butt in the beer can that
served as a makeshift ashtray and followed her inside.

As they entered her office, Karen took a seat in her fancy office chair and
motioned for John to sit in the oversized leather recliner a few feet away
from her. She was still dressed in her work clothes, a knee-length black skirt
and a high-collared, loose-fitting white blouse. "Ok, honey, I'm going to do
an induction to take you down into trance. Just listen to the sound of my
voice and focus your eyes on this." She reached down, fingering the necklace
pendant that hung over her blouse. It was a small, pearlescent flower.

"What is that?"

"This is an Edelweiss, honey. You probably don't remember, but when you were a
baby I used to sing you to sleep with that song. Edelweiss, small and white,
you look happy to meet me," she cooed. John had no conscious recollection of
the song, but hearing it flooded him with an unexpected wave of joyous
nostalgia. He watched the pendant, admiring the subtle way it refracted the
light as she began to speak in a gentle, lilting voice.

"Now, John, I just want you to let out all of the tension. I want you to
relax. First, give your neck a gentle roll, first to the left..." she paused
briefly as he complied, "and then to the right. Feel the tension release and a
wave of relaxation begin to spread from the top of your head. Next, roll your
shoulders and give your arms a little shake, as you feel that relaxing
sensation begin to spread downward."

John was surprised to find that he actually could feel the sensation moving
through him, and he smiled slightly as he continued focusing on the pendant.
As she continued her instructions and the stress faded from each successive
part of his body, John found his vision narrowing, his eyelids beginning to
flutter. "Now that you are fully relaxed, I want you to focus on your
breathing. Take a deep breath and hold it for three... two... one... and
exhale. And again, deep breath, three... two... one... exhale. Now, just keep
breathing like that, counting down each breath, for the remainder of the
session."

As he counted each breath in his head, John found his eyelids growing
impossibly heavy. As if on cue, he heard his mother's voice, "Your eyes must
be so tired by now. I want you to close them for me." John closed his eyes,
the soft outline of the flower lingering in his mind's eye. and as you
continue breathing, I want you to picture a door, any kind of door. Can you
see it?"

"Yes," John replied drowsily. The outline of a door manifested in the inky
blackness, the barely there silhouette of the flower settling onto it's
surface like a rune.

"On the other side of that door is a place you feel safe, happy and warm. You
don't have to tell me where you are - this is your own, personal happy place.
Imagine that place, and then step through the door."

John reached out in his mind, slowly opening the door and stepping inside. He
found himself on a beach in Tulum, a shockingly vivid recreation of a
wonderful vacation with Tracy a few months before.

"Are you there?"

"Yes," he said, focusing on the memory of warm sand beneath him, the sun
beating down upon him, and the sound of waves lapping gently against the
shore.

"Good. Just let that warmth wash over you as I count you down from ten. When I
get to one, you will be in a deep trance, a highly suggestible state. 10...
feel the warmth envelop you as the world around you begins to melt away. 9...
letting go of all conscious thoughts." As if on cue, the beach began to fade
away. "8... as you drop. 7... deeper and deeper." John felt as though he were
floating in an inky void. "6... listening only to the sound of my voice. 5...
your mind becoming a blank slate. 4... my voice still drawing you down deeper.
3... you drop deeper and deeper. 2... your empty mind open to the power of
suggestion. 1... as you sleep"

John drifted through endless darkness, the distant, dulcet tone of his
mother's voice his only tether to the conscious world. Unable to understand
her words he simply floated, for what felt like eternity. From nowhere came a
sharp sound - a pop, perhaps - cutting through the emptiness and a subtle,
pleasant sensation rippled through him. Everything beyond that was a beautiful
dream.

John woke early the next morning to find himself in bed. Tracy slumbered
peacefully beside him. He didn't remember retiring to his room. He didn't
remember anything but the beautiful beach. But he felt great! As he rose
gingerly from bed, careful not to wake Tracy, he found himself feeling
unusually refreshed. Gauzy light streamed in through the thin curtains. His
whole world seemed to be filtered through a lovely, golden haze.

He made his way to the living room to find his mother already up and deep into
a workout routine on the TV. He thought he'd noticed a difference in her last
night but now it was undeniable. Karen Miller had always been a very pretty
woman, but years in an office job had left her with a slightly pudgy physique
by the time John reached high school. Now, though there was no trace of her
former flab. She was curvaceous to be sure, but she looked lean now, toned in
a way that belied her 45 years.

"Morning, mom," he called across the room.

She paused her video and turned to him. "Good morning honey!"

"Hey, have you lost weight?"

"Aww thanks for noticing. These workout videos have been a godsend."

"Well, keep it up. You look great!" he said with earnest enthusiasm.

"Thanks baby. I have a few minutes of this video left, but if you're hungry
there's cereal in the pantry and a jug of milk in the fridge."

John filled a bowl with Rice Krispies and grabbed the unmarked glass milk jug
from the fridge door. The familiar snaps, crackles and pops filled his ears,
and as he took his first bite the milk tasted so pleasantly sweet. His senses
felt more alive than they'd ever been. John had a feeling this would be a
great day.

Midway through wolfing down his bowl of cereal, Tracy appeared, clad in grey
terry shorts and a midriff-baring shirt that revealed the half-sleeve of
tattoos on her right arm and did little to hide her lack of a bra. John took
her in as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. John and Tracy hadn't seemed
like a natural fit when they'd met at a punk show his friends had dragged him
to. He enjoyed the occasional beer and had smoked more than his share of weed
in his days, but he had always projected a straight-laced image. Tracy, with
her tats and piercings, looked anything but straight-laced. Their chemistry,
however, was immediate and undeniable, and as he marveled as her petite,
perfect figure he felt a flood of endorphins wash over him.

"Morning honey," she said, walking over and planting a peck on his cheek.
"Good morning Miss Miller."

"Hey Tracy," Karen replied without turning around, half-breathless from
exertion. "I'll be done in a few, but there's cereal in the pantry and milk in
the fridge.

"Thanks. I don't really drink dairy though."

"Oh, John mentioned. There's a carton of almond milk, just for you."

John finished his cereal and drained the milk from the bowl as Tracy plopped
down with a bowl of her own. "What do you want to do today?"

"Well, I was hoping you could show me around town. We can see the sights, you
can show me where you used to raise hell in high school."

Karen, finishing up her post-workout stretch, cackled. "A hell-raiser? This
one? The most hell he ever raised was playing Devil with his friends online."

"Diablo, mom. It's called Diablo."

"Oh of course," she replied in a gently mocking tone, "Diablo."

"Well," Tracy cut in, "I'd still like to get out and explore. Miss Miller, can
you join us?"

"Thanks Tracy but I've got a packed schedule today. You kids have fun. We can
meet up for dinner tonight."

John and Tracy spent the day driving around town, seeing John's old
high-school, stopping by the arcade where he whiled away too many afternoons,
and exploring the trails around the creek that cut through the south end of
town. In the evening they met up with Karen at John's favorite Tex-Mex spot,
where John endured plenty of gentle ribbing from the tag-team of his mother
and his girlfriend over a couple of margaritas. After dinner, they said their
goodbyes and John and Tracy headed to meet some of his old friends for a few
beers at a dive bar across town.

"Tracy's great, man," John's friend Tom said as they each took puffs on their
cigarettes.

John cast a glance inside, to see Tracy laughing with Tom's new wife and a few
other compatriots. "Yeah, man, she is."

"Gotta admit, she's not exactly what I imagined as your type... she looks like
she'd be dynamite in the sack, though." Tom nudged his friend with an elbow to
the ribs.

"What are you, 16?" John shot back with feigned incredulity. "But you're not
wrong. It's wild man, like we were made for each other."

"You better lock that shit down, bro."

"I'm planning on it," John smiled as he dropped his butt and stubbed it out
under his shoe. "C'mon let's head back in."

A few pints and an ill-advised, faintly nervy drive home later, John and Tracy
stumbled in the front door, giggling like teenagers. John put a finger to his
lips as they stepped inside. Tracy responded by sticking out her tongue before
wheeling away towards his room, pulling her shirt off before they'd even
closed the door behind them.

John approached her from behind, kissing her neck, grabbing hold of a small,
pert breast and tweaking her erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
She sighed deeply and turned to face him. John peeled of his own shirt and
Tracy's hand found its way to his zipper, then into his boxers, stroking his
rapidly stiffening shaft. John pounced, playfully tackling her onto the bed as
he unzipped his jeans. He peeled off his pants and pulled down his boxers,
allowing his mammoth, nine-incher to spring forth as Tracy shimmied out of her
panties. As much as they fucked - and they fucked a lot - John had never felt
more desperate for Tracy's touch, to feel the warmth inside of her, than he
did now. As she grabbed his cock, her tiny hand barely able to encircle its
girth, he felt and electric trill run through him. He was greedy, desperate
for her pussy, and as she pulled him towards her and his cockhead slipped
between her already wet lips, he felt overwhelmed by the sensation. He
typically entered her slowly, conscious of his size. She was the first
girlfriend that was able to take him all without a lot of practice. But
tonight, he felt an inescapable compulsion to ram himself deeply, immediately
into her. And he did, thrusting powerfully into her. Suddenly there was a
flash, a vision, perhaps, but one that passed so quickly he could not
comprehend it. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and in its wake...
nothing. The passion that had overwhelmed him only an instant before was gone,
leaving him with a feeling of emptiness. Once, twice, he tried feebly to
thrust into Tracy as he quickly went soft inside of her.

"Baby," she cooed, "what's wrong?"

"I... I don't know," he said, pulling out and rolling off of her dejectedly.
"This has never... I mean..."

"Hey, it's okay," she said, smiling sweetly and stroking his cheek gently. "It
happens. We had a lot to drink tonight."

"But..."

She placed a finger gently on his lips. "Don't worry about it. Let's get some
rest. We can pick this back up tomorrow. G'night babe." She kissed him on the
cheek and rolled over.

John lay there for a few moments, unable to shake the hollow feeling. Upon
hearing Tracy snoring softly beside him, John slinked out of bed and grabbed
his pack of smokes from the table.

He stared blankly from the porch, listening to the gentle chirping of crickets
as his cigarette burning to the butt as it lolled between his lips. "Hey
honey. You have fun with your friends tonight?"

"Oh, hey mom," he mumbled, "Yeah... we had a good time I guess." He glanced at
his watch. Midnight. "What are you still doing up?"

"Just finishing up some work." She nodded towards him, and quizzed, "You gonna
smoke the filter?"

John realized he was basically smoking plastic at this point. "Heh. Guess that
session didn't really work, huh?" he asked with a faint air of disdain.

"It takes more than one session, silly," she said with a gentle laugh. "We
have to implant those suggestions deep down inside. And you have to really
want to accept them." She paused. "Should we try again?"

John shrugged. It seemed like these sessions made his Mom happy. And he
couldn't deny he had slept well after their last session. "Sure mom."

It wasn't until he had settled into the overstuffed recliner across from her
that he took notice of her outfit. It was almost the same as the one she had
worn the night before. Almost, but not quite. The skirt seemed slightly
shorter tonight, the blouse slightly tighter, it's top button undone,
revealing the barest glimpse of flesh. And there, nestled atop the ample
curves of her bosom, lay the pendant.

As his eyes fell upon it, almost on cue, she began to sing. "Edelweiss, small
and white, you look happy to meet me." The song was like a warm blanket,
wrapping around him, lulling him into state of deep comfort as he stared
intently at the little white flower.

"Do you remember how to release your tension, sweetie? How to relax?" she
asked gently. Without instruction, John rolled his neck, stretched his arms
and legs, and settled back into the chair.

"Now, I want you to focus on your breathing, just like I taught you last
night." John obeyed, breathing in, holding it, and breathing out. Soon, his
eyes grew heavy. He allowed them to shut.

"John, I want you to picture a door, the same door from last night. Can you
see it?"

"Yes."

"Step through the door and enter your happy place."

John did as she asked, stepping through, and sensing the door closing tightly
behind him. This time he found himself not on a Mexican beach, but in a
darkened bedroom. The bed looked enormous and inviting, and John could hear
the gentle patter of rain against the window. Desperately tired, craving it's
comfort, John struggled onto the giant bed, nestling under the covers before
he became aware of the feminine figure beside him, already sleeping gently.
She was turned away from him, her face hidden from view, and seemed incredibly
large next to him.

"Are you there?" his mother's voice called from what seemed like another
world.

"Yes," he said, feeling himself pulled towards the warm figure beside him. He
snuggled close, barely able to wrap his arm around her, and luxuriated in her
softness and radiant heat.

"I'm going to count down from ten. 10... falling into darkness. 9... as you
drop." His consciousness fled almost instantly. From a far away place his
mother's gentle voice rose and fell, carrying him along on the sea of
blackness. Suddenly, a familiar sharp pop pierced him, followed by another.
When he heard it a third time it struck like thunder, and a brilliant flash
cut through the darkness that engulfed him. Everything beyond that was a
beautiful dream.

For the second day in a row, John awoke in bed next to Tracy, fully clothed,
with no memory of how he got there. As he tried to move he felt a slight,
unexpected stickiness in his pants. Oh God. He couldn't remember the last time
he'd had a wet dream, and he wondered for a brief moment what could have
inspired such arousal. He faintly recalled the bedroom, the figure, the
warmth, but he shrugged it off, feeling compelled to clean himself lest Tracy
see. He rose, finding himself feeling hazier than the day before, grabbed
fresh boxers and a pair of shorts from his suitcase, and headed for the
bathroom to clean himself. He tossed his soiled clothes straight into the wash
before heading for the kitchen.

Just as yesterday, his mother was deep into her exercise routine. John didn't
interrupt her. He poured himself a bowl of cereal but found his appetite
lacking. At least the milk tasted good. He glanced out the window as he poked
at his cereal, noticing for the first time the heavy rain falling outside. He
turned his attention back to his mother as she moved to the rhythm of the
beat. He watched intently, admiring the pronounced divots forming in her
impressively muscular thighs as she bobbed from side to side. With each bend,
her hamstrings popped, thick cords of muscle evident through the thin lycra.
He felt an unconscious stirring in his pants as he stared, and with it came a
sudden intense feeling of shame. He shook it off, and stared back out the
window.

Tracy appeared a few moments later, just as Karen was finishing her workout.
"Hey honey," she said cheerily, planting a peck on his cheek. "Looks like our
hike is gonna have to wait, huh?" she asked rhetorically, motioning towards
the window. She headed for the kitchen and called across the room, "I gotta
admit Mrs. M, I wish I had your motivation."

Karen wiped the gentle sheen of sweat from her forehead as she walked over to
meet Tracy in the kitchen. "I spend a lot of time sitting in a chair at work.
Exercise is kind of a release. I can't start a day without it."

John watched as the two women chatted, and, for the first time found himself
noticing the stark difference between them. It wasn't just the substantial
height difference. Tracy, petite in every way, looked almost childlike next to
Karen's full, womanly figure. Her thick thighs and wide hips tapered to a trim
waist which in turn swelled into a proud chest, upon which perched two scoops
of milky white perfec... Jesus, what the fuck.

John shook off the uncomfortable thought. Looking back down, he realized he
had finished all the milk in his bowl, but hardly any of his cereal. It formed
a sad, soggy mound in the bottom of his bowl. He dumped the remnants down the
drain and retired to the bedroom as his mother and girlfriend continued to
chat merrily.

John and Tracy whiled away the day lazily, reading and watching TV. In the
afternoon they laid down to nap, but, while Tracy fell quickly, deeply asleep,
John lay wide awake, the events of the night before still running through his
mind. He tried to close his eyes, feigning sleep for some time, but eventually
he gave up hope. After a few minutes scrolling mindlessly through his phone,
he glanced over and noticed an unfamiliar framed photo on his bedside table.
Had it been there the whole time?

He picked it up, looking closer. In the photo, John and Karen stood on the
beach, framed against white sand and the placid, crystalline sea. It was
somewhere in Florida, John knew. Daytona, maybe. His memories of the trip were
faint at best, but he felt a wave of nostalgia at its sight. He must have been
no older than 7 in the picture, a half-pint in Pokemon swim trunks. But what
really caught John's eye was Karen. She would have been about 30 then. She
beamed at the camera, clad in a cherry-red bikini that revealed the tanned
expanse of her body. Possessed of long legs, broad hips, and a slightly toned
stomach, her youthful figure was betrayed only by the faint, pale outline of
her C-section scar. She was thinner then, less muscular than she was now. But
she was incomparably beautiful. And God, her breasts! Those perfect, light
brown D-Cups strained against her bikini-top, calling to him, demanding his
attention. He reached down. Half-surprised to find himself already at full
mast, he began to stroke himself through his pants, gently first, then faster,
lost in the fantasy of burying his face between his mother's--

"John?" Tracy said groggily, stirring next to him.

Oh fuck, what am I doing? He quickly set the photo down and turned towards the
slowly awakening Tracy.

"Couldn't nap?" She asked as she rose onto her elbows and glanced towards him.

"Nah."

Her eyes suddenly fell upon the elephant in the room. "Are you... hard?" John
looked at her sheepishly, saying nothing. "I think it's almost time for
dinner," she continued. "Your mom mentioned reservations at 6:30. But I'll
take care of that later." She winked as she rose and crossed the room to
rummage through her luggage. By the time she was dressed John was still
rock-hard. Tracy leaped on the bed, nestling her face tantalizingly close to
his crotch, and whispered, "Down, boy." As if on cue, John's cock began to
soften, and together they headed for the living room to meet Karen.

Dinner was good, by all accounts, but John had no appetite. The booze went
down OK though, and a few hours an two bottles of wine later, they sauntered
in the front door. "I've got some work to finish up. You kids have a fun
night," Karen said playfully as she headed for her office. Tracy grabbed
John's hand and practically dragged him to the bedroom.

Her shirt was off almost before she hit the bed, and her bra fell nearly as
fast, revealing her small perky breasts. John dropped his pants, the behemoth
inside them springing free, already fully engorged. He stepped in, wrapping
his lips around one dark nipple and swirling his tongue around it, driving
Tracy wild. She reached down, her hand grazing the head of his cock. Instantly
he went soft.

"John, baby..." Tracy pulled back, and as quickly as he had softened, John was
hard again. Tracy stepped back in, and John attacked her neck, kissing it
hungrily. Again her hand found his throbbing member. Again, he fell limp at
her touch.

"What the fuck?!" she half-shouted, withdrawing her hand. Immediately John's
massive cock returned to full attention. "Why don't we try something
different?" She knelt in front of him, grabbing the back of his legs and
taking his full length in her throat in one motion. As she did, John's member
again deflated, hanging sadly in her mouth.

John gently pushed her away and sat back on the bed, his dick again swelling
as he did. "Tracy, I don't... I don't know..."

She sat beside him. "It's ok. I mean, it's not like you don't want me
anymore... right?"

"Tracy, no, of course I want you. All I want is to be inside you." Even as he
spoke the words, he questioned if he really believed them.

"That's all I want too, baby." Tracy leaned back, slipping off her pants and
spreading her legs for him, inviting him to take her. Unsteadily, John shimmed
out of the last of his clothes and mounted her, but as his cockhead brushed
against her slightly slick lips, it happened again. Tracy looked up at him,
tears welling in her eyes. She pushed him aside and rolled away, facing the
wall and sobbing gently. John had never seen her cry before and the sight
devastated him. He rolled towards her, wrapping her in his arms, but she
squirmed away. "Get off. Just get off of me."

John pulled back, finding himself near tears as well. "I'm sorry, Tracy." At a
loss for what to do, he dressed, struggling to tuck his once again raging
hard-on into his pants, and left her in the room, crying herself to sleep.

It was still early, barely 10pm, and John decided to take a walk. He wandered
through the neighborhood, the friction in his pants with each step a reminder
of his shame. He made his way out to the main drag, nearly a mile away, ducked
into the first dive bar he found, and ordered a whiskey. He nursed his drink
but found no solace in it, replaying the events of the night in his head. He
had wanted her - it wasn't a lie - and his incessant physiological response to
her touch left him feeling confused and humiliated. He ordered another drink,
drained it quickly, paid his tab and made his way slowly home.

By the time he found himself back on his mother's porch, it was more than an
hour since he had left, and still his cock had not relented. He needed
something else to focus on, and was surprised to realize this was the first
time tonight he had even thought about smoking. He fished the pack from his
pocket and lit up a smoke. The first drag, usually so instantly satisfying,
brought him none of the usual pleasure; the second and third tasted positively
disgusting. As he stubbed out the cigarette, he heard a familiar voice behind
him.

"Maybe these sessions are working after all," Karen cooed.

"Oh hey mom. Yeah, sure..." he trailed off, not even bothering to look back at
her.

"Is everything ok, hon?"

"It's... fine."

"Do you want to talk, sweetie?"

"No, I'm just... frustrated." He felt his anger rising at her insistent
questions.

"I can tell." There was a pregnant pause. "Well, if you don't want to talk, do
you want to do another session?"

John snapped. "No mom, I don't want to do another of your dumbass sessions. I
just want to be left alone, dammit."

"John Miller! You will NOT speak to me that way!" John found himself
unexpectedly shaken by the immediacy and intensity of her anger. Despite
himself, he felt a deep well of uncontrollable sadness rise up within him.

"Mom," he blubbered, "I... I don't know what to do."

She softened immediately, and wrapped her arms around him tightly. John
returned her hug, holding her tightly and burying his face against her neck.
He was conscious of his raging hard-on, trapped tightly between them, but he
didn't care in the moment, thankful for the solace of her embrace. "You're so
wound up, sweetie. I know you think the sessions are a bunch of mumbo jumbo,
but don't they make you feel good? Don't you want to just relax?" He nodded
against her, wordlessly.

"Come on honey, let's go to my office." She led him inside and seated him in
the soft recliner. "You just rest here. Mommy will get you a nice, warm glass
of milk. Doesn't that sound nice?" John nodded. Nothing could have sounded
nicer. She reappeared a few moments later, handing him a steaming mug. He
raised it to his lips, instantly soothed at the first, luscious sip. As Karen
nestled into her chair opposite him, John gulped down the rest of the mug,
feeling its euphoric warmth spreading through every inch of his body.

"Did that milk taste good, dear?" she said, a hint of glee in her voice. He
nodded. "I knew it would. You're just so pent up, aren't you?" He was vaguely
aware of her gaze dropping to the obvious bulge in his pants, but he felt no
shame. Without direction, his eyes had already found their focus. Impossibly,
her blouse seemed even tighter than the prior night, and with another button
undone, mountains of milky flesh peeked above the fabric, traced by the top
lace of a black bra. Dangling between them hung the pendant, calling to him.
Edelweiss...

John stretched mightily, settling back into the chair and feeling the stress
of the day melt away. He breathed deeply, and his eyes fluttered closed.

"Can you see the door, Johnny?"

'Yes, mommy," he said reflexively. He didn't know where the word had come
from. He hadn't called her mommy in 15 years.

"Good. Just relax. Relax and step through the door."

John did as instructed, feeling himself go fully limp - almost fully limp - as
he found himself swaddled in a heavy blanket. He was powerless, devoid of
agency, as he felt himself lifted up. Behind him he sensed the door closing,
slamming shut. His eyes fell upon a bright pink saucer, nearly as big as his
face. A perfect nipple, perched atop it. Compelled, he reached out with his
lips, unconsciously suckling at it. From the far recesses of his mind he heard
a voice. "10... falling deeper. 9... your conscious thoughts slipping away.
8... as you drop..."

He drifted in a black void. The low rumble of thunder permeated what remained
of his conscious mind, but there was no lightning, no crash, no... release. He
drifted, and a solitary word, almost a command, invaded his consciousness.
SLEEP. Everything after that was a beautiful dream.

John awoke the next morning exactly where he had been the night before - the
recliner in his mother's office. He was still hard as a rock. The gentle haze
of the previous days had been replaced by a dense fog. He struggled to sit up,
to make his way to the living room, where his mother was deep into her
workout. He was incredibly hungry, and immediately went to the fridge, finding
the last of the bottle of milk in the door, the only thing that could possibly
sate him. He raised it to his lips, drinking deeply as he watched his mother
bounce hypnotically in front of him. Her ass was perfectly tight, and he could
see her lips through the thin lycra of her bodysuit as she bent forward. Over
and over she bobbed before him, her pussy straining at the fabric with each
bend, demanding his attention. John knew he should be embarrassed, but he felt
nothing so much as desire as he watched her. Her movements commanded his
attention. He finished the last of the bottle, drops of milk dripping from his
chin to his shirt as he stared intently at his mother's gyrations.

"Hey honey!" He startled at the sound of Tracy's voice, as she appeared behind
him. She whispered in his ear, "Where were you last night?"

"I... ummm... slept on the couch." Tracy eyed him with evident suspicion as
she poured herself a bowl of cereal. "Hey mom," he shouted across the room,
"is there anymore milk?"

Karen looked up from her video with an exaggerated pout. "Sorry hon, that was
the last of it. I'll, umm, refill it today." John's frustration reached a
breaking point. He threw the bottle down on the counter and left the room in a
huff. He slammed the bedroom door behind him and threw himself down on the
bed, beating the mattress with his balled fist. Rolling over, his eyes fell
upon the picture on the bedside table. He wouldn't have believe he could be
any harder, but the sight of his mother's tits in that bikini made him feel as
if his cock would tear through his pants. He grabbed the picture, and, peeking
out the door to make sure the coast was clear, hurried into the bathroom.

The loud sound of knocking rustled John from his stupor. He was seated on the
closed toilet, staring intently at the photograph, robotically stroking his
cock which was still engorged and nearly raw, a mix of bright red and deep
purple. "John, I need to get in there. It's been 30 minutes."

"Give me just a minute babe, I just..." he looked up frantically as he
realized that he hadn't bothered to lock the door behind him.

"Are you taking a shit?"

"No, I..."

"Then I'm coming in," Tracy shouted as she swung the door open, causing John
to drop the picture in surprise. Glass shattered as the frame hit the ground.
"Sorry baby, I..." Tracy stopped in her tracks as she looked first at John,
cock in hand, then at the photograph. "Oh my god..." A look of horror spread
across her face and tears welled in her eyes. "You fucking pervert," she
screamed as she wheeled away, leaving the door hanging open.

John leaped to his feet and he yelped in pain as he stepped on a piece of
broken glass. Wincing as he struggled to pull on his pants, he limped after
her, trailing blood behind him. Tracy was already in her car by the time John
made it out the front door and he banged on her window. "Tracy, wait..."

"Fuck you, you fucking pathetic freak," she screamed through the window.
"We're done."

"But what about your stuff?" John whimpered, clinging to anything that might
give her enough pause to let him explain.

"Put it in the mail," she shouted as she hit the gas and peeled away, leaving
her pitiful, hobbled boyfriend in her wake. John stood in shock for a moment
as he watched her speed away. Quickly, he realized he still needed to clean up
the evidence of his shame before his mother discovered it. Thankfully she was
nowhere to be seen as he slipped back into the house. He set about cleaning up
the glass and the trail of blood, picking the shards from his foot and
bandaging his wound. He tossed the photo in a drawer in the vanity and, for
the first time that day looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was wild and
disheveled, his face dotted with stubble. He looked crazed. He felt crazed.
Utterly unable to escape the constant throbbing in his pants and the gnawing
hunger inside him.

He went to his room and fell onto the bed. He was exhausted, but there was no
hope of sleep. He simply lay there, his mind awash in a barely coherent swirl
of racing thoughts, lust, and rage. He didn't know how long he'd been there
when he heard it: a sweet singsong voice calling to him. COME HERE, JOHNNY.
The voice was gentle but commanding. He felt himself inexorably drawn towards
it, rising from the bed and following it's lilting tone into a room he knew
all too well.

Karen was seated in her office chair, and as John entered the room he felt
overwhelmed by her presence and the emotion of the day. "Mommy, I..." he began
to blubber, "Tracy, she..." His eyes fell to his mother's chest. Her blouse
was unbuttoned to the midway point, letting her proud breasts hang nearly
free, bound only by a lacy black bra. And there, between them, hung the
pendant. His eyes locked onto it, and the weight of the world began to fall
away.

"SIT." The word pierced him, and he did, nearly falling back into the
recliner. "RELAX." She spoke calmly, but there was an insistence to the
command that he could not possibly resist. He felt his body, with one notable
exception, go slack. His eyes remained trained on the pendant as she
continued. "Are you relaxed, honey?"

"Yes, mommy."

"Good." There was a long pause. "Tracy called me..." Johnny felt his muscles
tense with fear and shame. "RELAX." she insisted, and he obeyed as she
continued. "I think she wanted to embarrass you, but there's nothing to be
ashamed of dear. You're just a boy..."

"But, I'm a man," Johnny protested meekly.

"YOU'RE JUST A BOY," she repeated, "and these sorts of urges are perfectly
natural. And sometimes urges are just sooooooo intense, aren't they?" She was
staring intently at the tent in his pants, making no effort to hide it.

"Yes, mommy," he said blankly.

"Do you want mommy to help you release all of your stress?"

"Yes, mommy," he repeated. "Please?"

"Mommy can make it all better. But you have to do exactly as mommy says. Can
you do that, sweetie?"

"Yes, mommy. Anything."

"GOOD BOY." An electric sensation coursed through him at the sound of her
praise. "Right now, all you have to do is DROP." Johnny's eyes were closed by
the time the word left her lips, and he found himself not floating, but
falling through the familiar black void. Below him the door appeared, the
Edelweiss inscribed prominently upon it, an island floating in the sea of
darkness. He fell faster, accelerating towards it, until at last he fell
through it. It slammed closed, and he was certain he could hear it locking
shut behind him. On the other side there was nothing. Everything after that
was a beautiful dream.

A dream in which he simply kept falling, deeper and faster. Occasionally, in
the distance, thunder rumbled, but still he fell, spinning and spiraling
through nothingness, on and on, lost in the dream forev...

WAKE UP. Johnny woke with a start. The inky blackness of his dream clung to
the edges of his consciousness, clouding his thoughts, threatening to overtake
him. He was in the same recliner, but as he looked down he realized he was
stripped to his boxers. He realized that he had wireless headphones in his
ears, but no sound escaped them. The room was dark. He stumbled into the hall,
realizing as he did that the cut on his foot seemed miraculously healed. He
winced at the pain of his erect cock straining against the thin fabric with
each step. The whole house was dark. "Mom..." he tried to resist, but he found
himself compelled to finish the word. "...my?"

"I'm in here, baby." He followed the dulcet tone of her voice, deeper into the
house. Into her bedroom.

Johnny couldn't recall the last time he had been in his mother's room. Karen
was seated on the edge of her bed, clad in a white, silk robe. "Mommy..." he
stammered, "I need to borrow your car. I need to go after Tracy. Maybe I can
still--"

"Tracy?" she laughed. "Baby, she's moved out. She's moved on."

"B...but she just left this morning."

"This morning?" she chuckled. "Johnny, you haven't seen Tracy in four weeks."

The words hit him like a ton of bricks. "Four weeks? But she just left."

"Oh no, honey," a wicked smile crossed Karen's lips, "you've been here with
mommy for a month."

"But my job. Our apartment."

"You quit your job baby. And I paid you out of your lease."

"How... why..."

"Why?" she cackled. "Because, you showed me you couldn't be trusted with your
life. With the life I gave you. So I took it back."

Johnny suddenly felt as alert and alive as he'd ever felt in his life, as the
encroaching darkness receded. Rage swelled inside of him. "What have you
done?" he shouted as he stepped towards her. "What did you--"

Karen's fingers peeled back the edges of her robe, revealing the edges of her
enormous, pillowy breasts, and between them... Johnny's eyes homed instantly,
instinctively to the pendant. "RELAX." Johnny's muscles went weak, and he fell
to the floor, kneeling before his mother as the darkness rushed back,
threatening to envelop him.

"GOOD BOY." A euphoric jolt rippled through Johnny as he knelt, powerless
before her. "You like it when I call you a GOOD BOY, don't you?" Johnny
nodded, smiling slightly at the praise in spite of himself. She reached out
and stroked his cheek gently. "Of course you do. Because you certainly
wouldn't want to be a BAD BOY." Whatever pleasure Johnny had felt left him in
a rush, replaced by a sadness so intense it seemed as if his heart was being
torn from his chest.

"When you were young, I thought you had so much potential. You were so gifted.
But as I watched you meander through your life, wasting it on whores and
dead-end jobs, I realized that you couldn't be trusted to make the right
decisions." Johnny wanted to respond, but he felt incapable of moving his
lips, of doing anything except staring at the golden flower nestled in her
cleavage. "Imagine if you had gotten that dirty slut pregnant. I did. Best
case, I would have had to foot the bill for an abortion. And if you kept it?
You'd spend another 25 years mooching off of me, living off of me. And I
decided that if you're going to live off of me, it's going to be on my terms.
So I took it."

"Took what?" he blurted, his voice cracking.

"You don't remember having this conversation last night? Or the night before?"
She laughed heartily as she clocked the confusion in his eyes. "Don't worry
honey, soon you'll settle into your new reality. The reality that I took your
life. I took control." She ran her hand to the back of his head, stroking his
hair. "That I reached deep inside that pretty little head of yours, grabbed
hold of your mind," she continued, as he felt her fingers pinch at the base of
his skull, "and I plucked it from your head."

She pulled her hand away and extended it in front of him. Johnny's eyes
dropped to it. "Now I've got it in the palm of my hand. But a mind is a
fragile thing. It's like an egg. It needs to be cradled and coddled and
treated so gently, because even the tiniest crack could mean disaster. And if
you make mommy mad... if you're a BAD BOY..." He shuddered in sadness and
terror as her fingers closed into a loose fist. "...then mommy might not be so
gentle. She just break your mind, and watch every thought you've ever had just
leak out into a little puddle. And then no one would ever be able to scoop it
all back up, to put you back together again." Her fist snapped shut and Johnny
reeled, his thoughts spiraling away, leaving only a torrent of horror and
despair. He began to shake, tears welling in his eyes until he was wracked by
uncontrollable sobs.

"But you won't make mommy mad, will you? Because you understand that mommy
owns you. And all you want is to be a GOOD BOY." Instantly his fear was washed
away in a tidal wave of bliss.

"Yes mommy, yes. I want to be a good boy."

"I know you do, honey. You know, I was mostly wrong about you being
exceptional. You weren't an exceptional student. Not an exceptional athlete.
But you are exceptional in one way." She extended a long leg and stroked his
tumescent member with her foot through the thin fabric. Reaching down, she
undid the soft belt at her waist and pulled off her robe, letting it fall to
the bed beneath her. Her breasts hung free, mountains of soft white flesh
punctuated by large, pink areola and perky nipples. "Tell me, baby, have you
ever wanted anything more than you want mommy's breasts?"

He spoke the only words he could muster. "No, mommy."

"Show mommy how much you want her tits." He reached down, freeing his aching
cock from his boxers and letting its full nine inches spring forth. It was a
deep, almost sickening purple. Robotically, he began to stroke his cock as he
stared at her breasts. It was painful to the touch, but he persisted.
Steadily, he quickened his pace, aroused beyond belief, desperate to cum. For
minutes on end he masturbated, but found himself no closer to release.

"What's the matter, baby? Can't cum?"

"N-no, mommy."

"Of course you can't," she laughed. "I took that from you, along with
everything else. And I gave you something in return. Those first few beautiful
tastes, those rapturous dopamine hits. And that's all it took for you to
become addicted to mommy. Addicted to mommy's breasts, mommy's pussy, mommy's
milk." She pinched her nipple, drawing forth a single sweet, creamy droplet.
Unconsciously Johnny's tongue fell from his mouth. He was desperate for a
taste. "You just want more, and you'll do anything to get it. Addicted to the
pleasure I can give you. Addicted to mommy's control." He was shaking now,
nearly crying. He knew she was right. He'd never wanted anything more than to
please her, to touch her, to taste her, to feel the bliss she could bring him.
And he knew he would do anything for her.

She saw it in his eyes - the loss of agency, of hope. "I control what you do.
I control when you eat. And I control when you come. All it takes is a SNAP of
my fingers." The word tore through him, awakening a desire like he had never
known. She raised her right hand, place her index finger and her thumb
together and began to rub them softly against each other. The sound of her
fingers brushing gently was barely audible, but it felt as though he could
hear nothing else. He kept stroking himself, harder and faster, his arousal
building towards crescendo, taking him to the very edge of ecstasy. His whole
body trembled, rippled with pleasure, filling him with desperation until--

She stopped. "Not yet, baby. You have to earn it." She spread her legs,
revealing the gaping maw of her neatly trimmed cunt. It glistened in the
dimmed light. Stepping off the bed, she squatted above him, her pussy lips
brushing gently against the head of his cock. "You want to be inside of me,
don't you baby. You want to feel mommy's perfect pussy swallowing you whole."

"Oh god, yes mommy. P-please."

She lowered herself quickly, taking the full length of his incredible cock
easily inside her. She was so warm, so wet as his dick plumbed the depths of
her cunt. He raised his arms to grab her hips, desperate to pull himself ever
deeper inside her. "NO HANDS," she insisted. His arms, feeling suddenly like
they weighed a thousand pounds and fell loosely at his side. "Just sit still.
Mommy will do all the work." She began to rock against him, steadily
increasing her pace. She rose, sliding fully up his shaft, gyrating teasingly
around the tip of his cock for a few agonizing second before slamming her hips
back down. Again and again she impaled herself upon him, watching with glee as
his eyes began to roll back in his head. "Mommy's pussy is just so DEEP, isn't
it baby."

"Godddd, yes!" He exclaimed. It felt like she might swallow him whole, just
suck every inch of him up inside her. There was nothing he had ever wanted
more. Her pussy gripped his dick so tightly he felt like it might be crushed.
Pain and pleasure roiled inside him, as she bucked harder, reveling in the
desperation in his voice, grinding him, driving him to the precipice of
ecstasy. He teetered, willing himself towards the edge, to hurl himself into
an abyss of sheer pleasure. "Mommy," he whimpered, his whole body shaking,
"I'm going to cum."

She laughed as she continued to hump against him, slathering his shaft in her
juices. "No you aren't, baby. Not until mommy gives you the trigger." She was
wild now, a being of pure sexual energy, fucking him ravenously. "You'll be
sooooooo close you won't even be able stand it, but without mommy's say so
you'll never be able to cum. He could feel the walls of her vagina beginning
to quiver against him as she continued to pump furiously, gliding up and down
his quivering cock. She leaned in close, digging her fingers into his back and
whispering in his ear as she rode him. "Never never never never..." her voice
began to crack as she neared her own climax, "nnever nnnever n...ever EVER."
She erupted, wrapping him tightly in her arms and legs, ensuring he felt every
last spasm of her own pleasure as she gushed atop his cock.

When at last her spasms subsided, she pushed him back and stood. Johnny was
near tears as his dick slipped from the velvety grip of her pussy, his need,
his unquenchable hunger ratcheted to unimaginable heights. He was, barely
human anymore, a being of pure lust, enslaved by his desire. Desire for her.
Desire to cum. "Please, mommy," he begged, "I have to cum. I neeeeddddd it."

She sat herself back down on the bed and spread her legs wide. "Then lick me,
Johnny. Lick mommy to show her how much you want it." He leaned his head
forward, his tongue jutting from his mouth and licking at the already slick
lips of her pussy. She tasted like the sweetest honey. As Johnny began to lap
slowly at her labia, Karen raised her legs over his shoulders, draping her
calves on his back. He licked and sucked at her hungrily, her taste and her
scent overwhelming his senses.

As he pleasured her, she closed her thighs around his head, drawing him tight
to her hungry cunt. He continued to lick, working his way up to her pronounced
clit and drawing his tongue over it in languid circles. Her thighs tightened
further around him as he felt the waves of her first orgasm ripple through
her. She laid back on the bed as pleasure wracked her, but still her thighs
constricted around him. His survival instincts kicked in and he raised his
hands to her thighs, trying desperately to pull them away. They did not budge
an inch. She was not yet sated and she tightened her grip further, demanding
satisfaction. Her pussy was his whole world now, and he licked and lapped and
sucked furiously as the pressure of her strong thighs increased to an
unbearable level, a brutal display of power and lust. His vision began to
cloud from pain and lack of oxygen. If he didn't satisfy her soon, he knew,
she might smother him. Or worse. He closed his lips around her clit and began
to hum. As the vibrations propelled her once again towards ecstasy, her thighs
tightened further still, with such strength that he felt his head might
explode. He felt the violent convulsions overtake both of them, her whole body
shuddering as her legs shook him like a ragdoll. He felt the first gush coat
his face before his whole world went dark.

Johnny awoke in a heap on the ground. He could not have been out more than a
few moments. Karen was rising to her seat, her body still rippling slightly.
He rose to his knees, finding himself unable to do more. His head hung low,
and he found himself staring directly at his swollen cock.

"Oh baby, that was so good. You were such a GOOOOOOD BOY. Are you ready for
your reward.?" Johnny didn't speak, didn't move. "I'll count you down. Five...
feel the pleasure building inside of you. Four... growing so powerful now."
Johnny began to convulse slightly at the sound of each number. "Three... you
want it so badly. Two... almost there, right at the edge." He began to shake
wildly. "Three... just kidding. Two... ready to explode. One." SNAP! Johnny
erupted, his whole body overcome with orgiastic pleasure as he took his own
load full force to his face. He fell backwards, spasming, luxuriating in the
greatest orgasm of his life.

Karen watched her son writhing on the ground, staring intently as his weeks of
tension released. When at last he stopped, she smiled down at him. "That
looked exhausting. You must be so hungry, baby." A low moan was the only
reply. Karen squeezed her breast, pinched her nipple, drawing forth a small
white bead that dangled, beckoning Johnny. "Come to mommy."

He crawled to the bed, using every ounce of his strength to pull himself up
until he was laying in her lap. Gently she cradled his head, pulling him to
her waiting breast. Instinct took hold, and he latched to her, suckling,
feeling the sweet milk stream down his throat and fill him with unimaginable
warmth. Karen's free hand found its way to his cock, and at the barest touch
it sprung back to life. He barely felt the ache, so focused on his meal. She
stroked his hair as he suckled hungrily. "You've earned your rest, baby. You
have a whole life ahead of you, serving mommy's every whim. For now, just
SLEEP." Johnny's eyes fell shut. Everything after that was a beautiful dream.