Institute of Apotheosis Research

The Institute of Apotheosis Research

Mommy Mind Control Spreads 1: Learning About Mommy Incest

Agent Mac Smith

I flicked on my blinker and pulled off the highway into the small college town of York, Nebraska. It was not a place I ever thought to be sent by the Agency. I still couldn't believe what I had been told. Mind control?

It was completely ridiculous, yet they were serious. They even gave me some specialized equipment.

I turned into the parking lot of the low-rent motel across the street from the Walmart. On the outskirts of the town, right off the highway, it was the perfect spot for me to set up my operations. I parked and headed into the manager's office.

A young woman in a tight-fitting tank top was there. A smile spread on my lips. Maybe there were some perks to this job. She had brown ringlets that framed her face. Eighteen or nineteen. Bored on a summer job.

"My, my, look at you," she said with this friendly, Midwest drawl. "Got on a suit. Mmm, let me guess, you're a Federal Agent."

My smile grew. "FBI."

"FBI," she said, savoring my lie. I leaned my elbow on the counter as she appraised me. "Has someone in York been bad?"

"Oh, definitely." That tank top fit her deliciously. "Have you?"

She laughed wickedly, interest in her eye. Oh, yes, there would definitely be some perks on this mission. How a housewife in a small town in the middle of nowhere could have mind control was insane, but a hot, young thing turned on by the mysterious "FBI agent" was something I could understand.

~ ** ~

Jennifer Liberty

"Get out of here, you nasty harlot!" I snarled, chasing the half-naked skank my oldest son had snuck into the house. "Before I welt that ass with my belt!"

"You're mom's a psycho bitch, Mark!" the girl screeched, her blonde hair flying behind as she held her clothes in her hand, wearing only a skimpy thong and a bra that barely covered anything.

"Oh, I am going to welt your ass, slut!" I hissed. "You get that ass back here! I will make it red!"

The whore burst out of the front door. I slammed it shut, so infuriated. I whirled around to find Mark standing at the foot of the stairs in a pair of boxers. My oldest son, twenty, had this insolent grin on his rugged face. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and with black hair and dark eyes that must make all the girls his age week in the knees.

"How many is that now?" I demanded of Mark. "Huh? Did I raise you to be a womanizer who chases every loose skirt that floats by?"

"Chill, Mom," Mark said. "I'm twenty."

"Exactly!" I marched to him. "You're a man now. Supposedly. And you're bringing trailer trash like that slut into your bed. What are you going to do if you get one of them pregnant? Have to fight custody with some flea-bitten, white-trash skank who's going to bleed you dry. And let's not even talk about what filthy diseases are crawling over their bodies."

He snorted. "You're overreacting, Mom. People hook up these days. It's just how it is."

"And how is that going to help you find a wife. You want to start a family with a girl like that."

"Fuck no." He laughed. "Doesn't mean I won't stick it to them when they--"

I slapped him. Hard. He rubbed at his cheek as I glared at him. Where had I gone wrong with Mark? He used to be such a good boy. His younger brother, Eric, was lurking down the hallway. A shy boy of eighteen, his glasses giving him an intelligent and gentle look.

"You don't even say that filth to me, Mark!" I hissed. "Not beneath

my

roof."

"If they're putting out, Mom, I'm going to take it." He shrugged. "I'd be an idiot not to. It's not like I make them want to the--"

I slapped him again, my blood boiling with my anger. "You say another dirty, disgusting word about what you do with those girls, and I will have your father welt your ass!"

"I'm not a kid, Mom." He grinned with such insolence. "Just let the old man try. Hell, he doesn't mind. He saw me bring her in."

Of course, he did. George didn't have a problem with his oldest chasing skirt. Probably was secretly high-fiving Mark. George probably wished he could do it. I'd seen him looking at younger girl's asses. I ground my teeth, struggling to control my anger.

"What about your brother?" I demanded, feeling Eric watching. "You want to land yourself in family court with babies from three different skanks, I can't stop you, but you're being a bad influence on Eric!"

Mark rolled his eyes. "He's a dweeb, Mom. I tried to be a bad influence on him and I failed." He raised his hand to block my next slap. "So you can get that bug out from beneath your skirt, Mom. Your

precious

Eric is would rather read a book than get any pussy."

I would slap him if he wasn't ready for it. "George!" I snarled. "George, do you hear the filth your son is saying to me?"

"What's that, dear?" George asked, the coward in the living room pretending to watch TV. "Mark, don't say filthy things to your mother."

"Talk to your son!" I snarled at George. "Tell him not to get a girl pregnant before marriage. It'll ruin his life."

"Yep, son," George said. "You'll miss out on finding a good woman like your mother and having a family. Don't want to miss out on that."

I wanted to go slap my husband. I heard that sarcasm. Probably did wish he'd chased a bunch of tail instead of getting me pregnant. Mark had never realized that he was born six months after our wedding. We lied about how many years we'd been married so he wouldn't know. At least I wasn't some skank. George was the only guy I had been with. My sweetheart. It was just an accident. So we had a child a little early. We were going to get married anyways.

But more and more, George seemed not to care about our boys. Just watching his TV and working.

I was so infuriated. I had to get out of the house. I looked around for an excuse. Then I remembered the casserole dish that I had borrowed from my friend Margaret a month or two ago. I kept meaning to return it, but I had just been so busy lately.

"George, I mean it, talk to your son before he ruins his life knocking up some slut that's had every lowlife in the county in her," I hissed and stomped to the cabinet. "I have to go see Margaret Justice." I found the casserole dish and stormed out.

I marched out of the house. There was nothing but corn fields in every direction. We had bought an old farm house about fifteen minutes outside of York. It was a great place. Remote. Far away from even the little bit of bad influence in York.

Or it used to be. But things were changing. That damned Walmart they built was the start. Drew in a bad crowd. Now skanks were running around with tattoos and piercings, tempting good boys like Mark and Eric into fornication. They would knock one up.

God, if Mark married a slut like that hussy I just chased out... She would cheat on him in no time.

I climbed into my car and started it up. I turned around in the driveway and headed towards the road. We had an acre of land, covered in bushes and my vegetable garden and several fruit trees. I passed the skank slinking to the road.

She flipped me off.

Mark would probably fetch her and take her back upstairs to bang her some more, George wanting to have a go with her, too. He thought once a month wasn't enough sex. It was more than enough for me. He should be lucky I gave him that much.

I drove into York, the cornfields giving way to the quiet homes with white picket fences and green lawns. Pure Americana. It was a college town, York Christian College on the other side, making it the largest community in an hour in any direction. Third largest in the state after Omaha and Lincoln, and given how small York was said something about Nebraska.

I passed the high school when a tingle prickled across my mind. I blinked at that, feeling like my brain had fallen asleep. Those pins and needles you get when you sleep on your side wrong and your hand's all numb when you wake up.

I hoped Eric didn't follow in his brother's steps. My youngest was suck a good boy. Honors student. He was taking advanced courses online. He had a future before him. Mark would end up working a trade like his father. Plumbing was good money, but it was so low. Eric would go to college. Make something of himself. A good Christian school where he could find a good woman and start a family.

He would be happy with a family. But if his brother led him down that dark path...

I should kick Mark out. He was twenty. If he wanted to fuck all the floozies, he could find his own place. Bang them there. I wouldn't help him. If he wanted to be a "playa" as he once called it, he could go play on his own.

My blood was boiling as I stopped at one of the few traffic lights in downtown York. I glanced over to my right and froze. There was a guy fucking a woman on the sidewalk. My jaw dropped at who the woman was. It was Betsy Miller. A wife and mother. The man was pounding her hard while she rocked back and forth to it.

There was something bestial about the young man's face. He couldn't have been more than nineteen. He snarled as he pumped away at her. It was almost like watching animals rut than people fuck. My jaw dropped. What was going on? Was he raping her?

But, no, she was gasping out with such joy. I could see it in her face. She was

enjoying

being screwed by this bestial boy. His muscular body, tanned by the sun, flexed. He had blond hair. I think... that was Rick. Mark knew him.

I swallowed as this heat kindled in between my thighs. I squeezed them tight, waiting for the light to change. "Come on," I growled, my body getting hotter and hotter. "Change! Change!"

"Yes, yes, fuck me, Rick!" moaned Betsy. "Slam that cock into me."

"WOOF! WOOF!" Rick barked like he was a dog as he drilled his cock into her.

Why was this happening on the street? Why was no one stopping this? Why would Betsy Miller cheat on her husband for the entire town to see?

The light changed green. I hit the gas and flew through the intersection. Flashes of Rick bending me over and fucking me like that shot through me. My husband had never taken me like that. Doggy style, he had called it. I wouldn't let him. It was missionary or nothing.

Sometimes, I would leave him with nothing for pushing so hard for it.

But the way Rick had taken Betsy... That animal passion. The force. How his young and muscular body moved. He was so handsome. Like Mark. I swallowed, my hands sweaty on the steering wheel. I shook my head in pure disgust.

What was happening to the world? How could something that obscene be afflicted upon good and decent folk like myself?

I reached Margaret's house. She was a widow. Her husband, Mitchel, had died a few years ago leaving her to raise her two sons, Davie and Ryan. My Eric and Davie were friends, but Ryan and Mark never got along. Mark was older and didn't want to hang out with a kid that idolized him.

I turned off my engine and grabbed the casserole dish. I tried to put Rick pounding Betsy Miller like she was a bitch in heat out of my mind. Like he was a dog in human flesh. I fought against that heat building in my nethers. If George asked me to have sex, I would say yes. That was how out of sorts I felt.

I marched up to the front door and rang the doorbell. I patted my black hair and smoothed the yellow skirt of my sleeveless sundress. I put on a smile. I was just here to drop off a casserole. I wasn't infuriated with my son and husband.

"Coming," Margaret called.

The door opened and Margaret stood there in a thin robe of purple that was hardly belted. It clung to her curvy figure, her large breasts almost spilling out of it. Her brown hair was tousled like she had just woken up despite it being nearly noon.

"Uh, late night?" I asked her.

"Oh, just a lazy morning with my boys," she said. "But this is a surprise to see you, Jennifer."

"Just returning the casserole dish I borrowed. Sorry for keeping it for so long. Just slipped my mind." I laughed and she nodded.

Taking it, she said, "Come in, come in. Let's have some Tea." She looked over her shoulder. "Ryan, honey, can you get Mrs. Liberty and me some iced tea."

"Sure, Mom," Ryan said. He rose from the couch. I blinked that he was just wearing a tight pair of boxers, his athletic and muscular form exposed. He was nineteen and turning into quite a handsome, young man. He had a chiseled chin and...

Oh, my, he had quite the bulge in his boxers. My body, already aroused by that disgusting sight, let out a titillating tingle that ran through me. I needed to douse myself in a cold shower. This day had me so off-kilter. I didn't know what was wrong with me.

Then Davie appeared. He was wearing just a pair of boxers, too. He was skinnier than his older brother, a cute boy with a round face, his brown hair in serious need of being combed. It was like all three of them had just gotten up.

"Davie, say hi to Mrs. Liberty," Margaret said as we headed to her couch.

"Hi, Mrs. Liberty," Davie said. He, too, had an impressive bulge in his boxers. "Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink?"

"Your brother's getting the iced tea," said Margaret as she sat on the couch. She patted the cushion beside her. "Just come sit next to your mommy."

"Sure, Mom!" he said brightly and sat beside her. I sank on the other side.

She kissed her son on the cheek and put her arm around him. "Isn't he just such a good boy, Jennifer? I'm so proud of him."

Davie had a big grin on his face, happy at his mother's praise.

"You're a lucky mother," I said, my eyes flicking to Ryan as he came back in, holding a glass of iced tea in both hands, a lemon wedge stuck in the rim of each. He had such a strong body and that chiseled chin. He smiled at me, the heat flicking through me.

"Oh, I am very lucky," purred Margaret. "Thank you, Ryan. You're such a good boy."

"Thanks, Mom," he said as he handed his mother the glass first then mine.

I took it and took a quick sip of the cold iced tea. I needed it. Then Ryan sat on the other side of me. I swallowed, so aware of how little clothes he was wearing, and that bulge in his boxers. The fly in the front was parted. I could see...

I looked straight ahead, my cheeks burning. He was... impressive.

"How have you been, Jennifer?" Margaret asked. She took a sip and leaned back, her robe about to fall open and show her sons all that God gave her.

"Oh, fine," I said, wanting to talk to her in private, but how to get the conversation there.

"You're not fine," she said. "Tell me what the problem is."

A tingle ran across my brain. This fuzzy impulse to tell her regardless of her boys being here. "It's my son, Mark. He's just out of control. He won't listen to me any longer. He's going to get into trouble with one of those skanks he's sneaking into his bed. And I'm afraid that Eric will make the same bad mistakes and ruin his life. He's such a good boy. He has a chance to be more than a plumber like his father. And don't get me started on George. I think he wants to be Mark, like he resents that he married me, but he was the one who knocked me up. And he was happy to marry me, or so I thought."

"I see," Margaret said. "You know, Ryan was dating this complete whore."

"She was a cheating slut who deserves to be fucked like a bitch in heat," Ryan said with such anger. "I loved her, but she was just a dirty slut."

Margaret nodded. "You see, it's a mother's job to pick her son's girlfriends. To choose the good girls that will make them happy."

I shuddered, the fuzziness returning to my mind. The prickles seemed to... make all of Margaret's words make sense. "Of course, that's such a good idea. There are some great girls at our church, but because they're not harlots who put out, he won't touch them."

"If we let our sons choose, they'll pick the easy girls and get into trouble," Margaret said. "But now my boys have girlfriends that won't cheat on them. I vetted them. Right, boys."

"Annie's amazing," Ryan said. "I always thought she was a little plain, but Mom showed me she was perfect for me."

"Me and Kimmie are so happy," Davie said. "Thanks to Mom, we're dating now, and I've never been happier. All thanks to Mom taking control of it."

"Wow," I said. "That's so impressive."

"Isn't it," said Margaret. She stood up. "It's important to find girls that will let your sons still love you. You don't want them to get in the way of that special relationship. You used to have it with Mark, right? And you don't want to lose it with Eric."

"Yeah," I said then blinked as Margaret opened her robe.

I gasped as her naked figure appeared. Her large breasts swayed. She let it slide off as she stood before Ryan. "But when you find those girls, they will want you to still have that connection with them. Mmm, and Mommy needs to have that connection with her boys right now."

"What are you doing?" I gasped as she pulled her son's cock out of his boxers. Ryan's dick thrust out big and thick. She stroked her son then straddled him, her big breasts swaying. "Margaret! That's disgusting. He's your son!"

"There's nothing wrong with a mother having sex with her son," Margaret said.

My mind prickled, almost burned with that thought. It pressed down into my brain like a thousand hot needles. My vision blurred for a moment. I gasped for air, seeing Davie standing before me and shoving off his boxers. His cock appeared. He picked up a bottle from the coffee table.

It was lube. He rubbed it on his dick as Margaret impaled her cunt down Ryan's cock. She sank to the hilt on him. I shuddered, blinking in shock at the sight of her devouring her son's cock. She groaned, a big smile spreading on her lips.

"Oh, yes, yes, that's what every mother needs," Margaret moaned, "her son's big dick in her pussy. Right, Jennifer."

My mind prickled again as I said, "Yeah... You're right. My son..." Mark flashed through my mind. That muscular hunk. So young and virile. Like that animal Rick fucking Betsy Miller. My pussy clenched. "You're right, Margaret."

"Mmm, now you just watch my boys love me," purred the naughty mother, more tingles dancing over my mind. "Your pussy getting nice and wet. See how a mother takes control of her boys. She does it by loving them. By being the one they desire most. They love their girlfriends, but who do they love the most?"

"We love you, Mommy," Davie said, his impressive cock now lubed. He wasn't as big as his older brother, but he still made me wonder how big my good boy's cock was. Eric filled my mind with his gentle face and those intelligent eyes behind his glasses.

I could just make love to him. Have him on me, staring down at me as he pumped away at me. He could never ruin his life by making love to me. And then with Mark, I would kneel like Betsy. Let him fuck me with that virile passion. He wouldn't need those skanks who put out if I had just loved him.

"God, it's all so clear," I groaned. "How I had I missed it?"

"Mmm, you just needed someone special to point it out," Margaret purred as she slid her pussy up her son's big cock. "You needed someone chosen to ascend. It's all so clear. I can make the world so much better because... I am a goddess."

My mind blazed with pain. I grabbed my head, shaking it. That was so wrong, she couldn't be a goddess. There was only one God. And... and... she was riding her son's cock beside me. Working her pussy up and down his dick as her other son pressed his lubed cock at his mother's rump.

I shuddered, watching as his cock vanished into his mother's butt-crack. She slammed down Ryan's cock, taking all of her nineteen-year-old's dick into her pussy. She shuddered as her youngest must have found her asshole.

Anal...

I had slapped George the one time he wanted it, but if it was one of my son's...

"Oh, Davie, yes, yes, slide into Mommy's asshole with that wonderful cock," Margaret cooed with such whorish passion. Her big breasts jiggled before Ryan's face.