WESLEY CRUSHER tapped the panels of his workstation in engineering. A 3-dimensional warp field appeared on the display. Wesley tapped away in an attempt to change the configuration for a more efficient matter-antimatter yield, but he just couldn't figure out the correct formula.
What is wrong with me, he thought to himself. He couldn't concentrate. His mind was drifting. From warp fields to... breasts? Why am I thinking about breasts? Beautiful breasts. Bouncing right in front of his face. He could almost reach out and grab them, but whose breasts? His mind's eye looked up and saw... his mother! Why was he thinking about his mother?
"Don't ever stop, Wesley," his mother said to him.
Stop it! What's happening to me!
Frustrated, Wesley switched off the display and slammed his fist into the console.
"Wesley, is something wrong?"
Wesley turned around. It was Commander Data.
"What? No. I just can't get the right configuration for the warp field!" Wesley complained.
"Interesting," Data said. "Warp fields haven't posed a problem to you in the past, and in my recorded history, I don't remember you displaying anger against a computer console before."
"I know. I'm just tired," Wesley said, slumping in his chair.
"Have you not been getting enough sleep?" Data asked.
"That's just it. I've been sleeping a lot lately. I'm not sure what's going on with me."
"Ah, then perhaps a visit with your mother is warranted?"
Wesley nodded. That is what he should do, but something wasn't sitting right with him. Things had been strange between them ever since she caught him masturbating. She acted like it never happened, which was unlike her. He had expected a lecture about how all healthy young men do that, but it never came. And now he was fantasizing about her breasts in engineering. He wanted to discuss it with her, but Counselor Troi said not to, which was also strange. Something wasn't right.
"Data, how can you tell if people are lying to you?"
"Accessing. There are several thousand volumes on detecting a lie, or a con, or falsehoods, or bamboozles —"
"Never mind, Data," Wesley said, walking off. "I think I'll go see my mom, after all."
- - -
"That's it, Wesley. Right there," Beverly Crusher told her son. "Now say 'ahhhh'."
"Ahhhhh," Wesley said, with a tongue depressor in his mouth. Satisfied, Beverly removed the depressor and checked some readings on her tricorder.
"Nothing here," she said. "You're a healthy young man."
"But why am I always so tired?"
"Wesley, you work too hard. It's okay to be tired from time to time. You just need more rest," she told him.
"Are you sure? I feel like I'm sleeping all the time."
"And a little extra sleep never hurt anyone," she assured him. "Tell you what. We'll have dinner tonight and I'll give you a sedative. How does that sound?"
"A sedative? Do you think I need that?" he asked.
"A mild sedative just until you get better."
Wesley nodded.
"Thanks, mom," he said and left.
Perfect, Beverly thought. Now I won't have to be so covert anymore. I can give him the sedative instead of slipping it into his tea. Maybe I should stop? What kind of mother am I? Am I hurting him with all this medication? No. I would never hurt Wesley. I just need to adjust the formula a little. That's all. A slight adjustment and then he'll be fine, and I'll still have his cock.
"See you soon, Wesley," she said.
- - -
"You think your mother is what?" Deanna asked Wesley, who had just arrived for his regular appointment.
"I think she's been giving me sedatives," Wesley repeated. Deanna was very nervous. She suspected this was going on, and it was her plan after all, but how did Wesley find out? And so soon?
"I've been tired lately and I asked her to examine me," he said.
"And what did she discover?"
"Nothing. She said there was nothing wrong with me, but I saw the reading on the tricorder. I have elevated levels of Methohexital, which is a powerful sedative. She didn't mention that."
Dammit, Wesley, Deanna thought. He was too clever. Beverly should have been more careful.
"Wesley, why would your mother want to drug you?" she asked, knowing damn well why. She was probably bouncing up and down on Wesley's massive cock all night. That lucky bitch.
"I think it's because she can't stand to talk to me after the... incident," Wesley said, embarrassed.
Beverly bit her lip trying not to laugh. That was almost the opposite of what she was trying to do. But what to tell Wesley?
"I can't believe that's happening," she said.
"I know it doesn't seem possible, but that's the only explanation I can think of."
Yes. It was the most likely answer. How can she get him to think otherwise? Quickly, Deanna. Think of something.
"Maybe there's a way we can find out for sure," Deanna said. "Have you heard of hypnotism?"
"Yes, but how could that help me?"
"Sometimes your conscious mind and unconscious mind have different memories and experiences. If your mother, or someone, is giving you sedatives, your unconscious mind might be aware. Under hypnosis, I could find out the truth," Deanna told him.
Wesley thought about it. This whole thing was bizarre. Now hypnosis? Left without any real options, Wesley agreed.
- - -
Back in sickbay, Beverly was working on a new formula. I should never have used Methohexital, Beverly thought. It does the job, but it does nothing to help the patient. What was I thinking?
