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Teasing Out Hypnosis

Chapter One

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Part One

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Steve leaned against the window of the train carriage, headphones firmly jammed into his ears as he blocked out the rest of the world. The countryside flashed by but he didn't pay much attention to it, rock music ringing through his head, although he wasn't even actually listening to that – not that much, at least. His attention was on his music player, the tiny slip of a device that was jammed into the pocket rattling off tracks that he'd heard over and over again, even though technically only enough to skip over the tracks that had gone beyond simply being earworms.

His grandmother awaited him a train ride away, although it had not been his idea to go. Sighing, he pressed his lips together, staring at the faint gleam of his reflection in the window, heart tight in his chest. It didn't look like him, too pale and his brown hair in need of a trim – just another thing that his grandmother would go on at him about. His mother had blonde hair and his grandmother forever liked to remind him of how different he looked to that side of the family, although it was not his fault. How could it be his fault just how he looked?

Times were not quiet between them and he had been sent there, previously, when his grades had slipped. He hadn't meant to let them slip, usually diligent, but so many things had seemed to get on top of him all at once and the only thing his mother had come to in order to get him back on the straight and narrow (he'd never veered off that track to begin with) had been to send him off with his ridiculously strict grandmother for an advanced pre-college course. It went without saying that his grades had once again stabilised but that was no thanks to his grandmother who picked and nipped at every last bit of his being until Steve wondered if there had been anything left of him at all to finish high-school and move on in life, taking other courses to beef up his resume before college.

Things had changed since he'd last seen his grandmother, in ways that no one else could have ever suspected. It wasn't something that was supposed to be able to happen, something that could be brought from the realm of fiction into reality, though Steve himself could not deny what he'd uncovered. He didn't linger on it too much, instead considering just how much he could push, what he could do with such knowledge, but he simply had not had time to explore the book that he'd found in his grandfather's belongings to the depth that he truly wanted to on his last visit.

A lick of the supernatural and a touch of something that could not be explained by science: a mean feat for a man like him to understand when his very course demanded that he look at things both objectively and pragmatically. That was just why it had been so difficult to consider that controlling the mind of another, particularly that of his grandmother, was at all possible. Yet his anger had gotten the better of him and he'd snarled out the word, a trigger word was what they called it, and his grandmother, cruelty shimmering in her eyes, her twisted scowl contorting her face.

And still...somehow...that had stopped her dead in her tracks. She'd stood there, slack-jawed ever so slightly, and he hadn't known what to do. His grandmother just hadn't seemed to realise what was going on, the world continuing on around her, and it was just as well that he had dug out the word to awaken her again, hardly believing what was going on before his very eyes, before she had been due to drive him back to the train station that time. His heart had hammered and he'd shoved the book into the bottom of his bag right as she returned to her usual snappy self, constantly picking fault in him, regardless of whether or not he actually had done something to deserve that fault.

Truth be told, he didn't deserve it. No one who fell under her wrath did but that was okay. Things would change as he explored just how twisted things could become with his strict grandmother, the world turning a little more in his favour.

Yet his train would pull in soon to the station in the city where his grandmother lived, even though she was not all that far out of the countryside and it was hardly a convenient place in which to live, and things would have to change. He would have to dig and he would have to investigate, slipping his hand into his bag as it sat on his lap, touching the book within with the frayed, curling pages, the one that could be the key to changing it all. Only testing it out would tell, heart turning over in his chest as even his palms sweated.

He would find out just what secrets that book had to spill.

His grandmother, Agatha, would not stand waiting at the station for him, despite there not being any kind of delays on the line that day. No, no, no: she had more important things to do with her time – he should have known that! Stupid boy, idiotic boy. Others saw her harsh language simply as sternness but only Steve could say how they cut him through to the quick of his being, even though he was now an adult and should have well enough have been able to stand up to her in more conventional ways by this time. That did not matter, however, as he sighed and withdrew his phone from his bag, dialling the number that he didn't feel that he should have known by heart.

It rang.

“Yes?"

Her cranky tone wavered down the line as if Agatha had been interrupted in the middle of something very important but Steve could not find it in himself to be annoyed, dulled in a way but alive in others. His fingers tingled and he opened and closed his hands to and from fists reflexively, taking a breath.

“I'm nearly there," he tried, keeping his voice level and plain, just to see what would happen. “Are you busy?"

“Yes, well, son," she snipped, “I am always busy. What do you want?"

It couldn't be that hard for her to work out, considering that she knew that he was coming to stay that day, but Agatha still forced him to go through the rigmarole of asking, even begging, for the help that she had offered in the first place. Gritting his teeth together for some semblance of steadying himself, he exhaled a breath, lungs releasing, pinching the bridge of his nose.

This time...he was going to try not asking. Just another little thing to try, another thing that may or may not tell him what was happening with that book, whether it was real or...disappointingly...not.

Steve shivered. He had to know.

His lips parted, moist with damp breath.

“You should pick me up at the train station."

There was a beat between his words and her reply, although not long enough for his heart to twist in worry. Had he pushed too far? Had he imagined it all? And yet it turned out that, right then and there, he had nothing to worry about.

“Yes, yes, yes, of course, I will," she sighed, although it was strange enough that she was somewhat amenable to coming there in the first place. “It's a long drive for someone like me, boy, you should be more self-sufficient."

But Steve was not really listening to her, instead forming the image in his head of how he wanted to her to be, how he wanted her to look. Instead of his stern, foreboding grandmother in his mind's eye, he saw her on her knees, lips parted for the treat of something that he could not force his mind to make the next step towards in that moment, grinding to a halt. But it was the gleam of saliva in her mouth, the way her tits were perfectly contained, yet still huge and overflowing over the cups, of the lace lingerie that was designed for a woman of much younger years than her... His train of thought derailed, letting her pose there before him, tits on show, fat flesh heaving for his attention.

Some secrets were not held in books. Some were right there before his very eyes, a tenacious delight that he had not, of course, ever allowed himself the presence of mind to indulge in. Who would? He knew it was wrong...and yet, if it was wrong, just why was it then so very right to fantasise about?

“Steve? Steve? Are you there? Have you put the phone down on me? Youth these days!"

He started, juddering back to reality. What had she said while he'd been off in another world?

“Er, yes, grandmother," he said quickly, trying to catch up with himself. “Yes, I'm here, I'm here..."

It didn't matter what was said though – not really. His lips curved up in a smile as she slammed the phone down (of course, she didn't have a mobile phone but a landline with a cord attached still), soon to arrive at the station, even though she would not want to be there to pick him up. With the image of her in his mind, all dressed up in the most tantalising of lingerie, desperation lining the curves of her body, though he really did think that she could put on a few pounds...

Steve swallowed hard. He'd told her to eat more on his leaving last time – a little test that wouldn't come to any hard if it turned out that everything, the inkling of power, was not anything that he'd ever had to begin with. Only time would tell and the dead phone line was best tucked back away in his pocket, the city suburbs and outskirts starting to rise around him, flourishing with life. And it was a kind of life that he was duly set to snatch up for his own – if the opportunity so presented itself to him, of course.

Finding her in the parking lot, however, after disembarking the train, was another task entirely and Steve grumbled under his breath, hair curling into and around his ear where it had gone a little too long. Maybe it did need a cut, maybe he should have thought to get it done earlier. Either way, it was too late for that now as he sought out the silver of her car, a nondescript ride that she said did her well enough after her late husband had passed away. She didn't need the carefully cleaned and primed wheels that his grandfather had cherished so, even though some of the vintage models were still in the garage where she had not yet gotten around to selling them off.

Ah! There she was. He smiled automatically, heart in his mouth, although he did not yet know what he could expect. Good or bad, a plus or a minus... It was all up in the hands of any gods that so happened to be listening and watching at that time, lungs tight with breath that he desperately needed to release and, still, could not.

“Hi!"

He put more energy into his voice than normal so that it did not come out as so much of a grunt, hefting his shoulder bag, a kind of satchel, and suitcase into the trunk. She didn't say anything in reply and he could not help but cringe, twisting away from the supposed judgement even though nothing at all had come to be vocalised. She was angry, he could feel it, the sourness of her seeping through. Her grey hair had been lightly curled in a style that was often deemed fashionable by the older generation but he would have chosen something different for her in his fantasies, the delicious curling of desire flickering up in his chest again.

Maybe it could be his. Maybe not. But it was fun to imagine it anyway.

Clambering into the car, he didn't look at his grandmother for a moment as she leaned back in her seat, barely moving as he settled himself down. The old, leather car seat seemed to conform to the shape of him as if it had been made to fit his body and only that, at least making him smile a little as he, finally, turned to her.

And then his jaw dropped.

He couldn't have put it any better himself, not even the lingerie that she'd been wearing in his fantasy could match up with what he found her in there, for her body was exposed and tantalisingly contained both at the same time. Her tits heaved in a mesh net of a body stocking that barely covered her nipples and yet somehow managed to put them on delectable show too at the same time, heaving with breath as her eyes alighted on him. The stocking came down to the tops of her thighs and over her hips like a swimming costume, although it was most certainly not one that she should have been caught dead wearing out in public. The mesh was interspersed by thicker, perhaps cotton, lines of fabric that showed off the curves of her breasts and the lines down to her hips, the woman that he had dreamed about chubbier than he last remembered her.

No... No, that was so and not so at the same time, her body having filled out while she also was not quite wearing something that was the right size for her. Her breasts were large enough as they were, sagging down under their own weight, but the body stocking was clearly two sizes at the very least too small for her, enhancing the effect that her body was trapped in it, bursting out and drawing the eye. Not that his eye needed to be drawn to her sexy form, however, as he gaped still, opening and closing his mouth crudely like a fish out of water, the beatific smile on his grandmother's face not changing as she, slowly, turned her head to face him.

Time slowed down, letting him take in every last inch of her luxuriously clad body, heaving and whimpering out a moan that he now knew, finally, that he was allowed, everything slotting together and right into place. No more would he face her snide comments and everything that dragged him down into the ground but everything would now lift him up into another, brighter kind of life and living, drama flowing through thick and vibrant in lustful passion.

His heart surged. Mind control was real – very much so! – and it was his to wield!

No young man like Steve could have held back their glee at uncovering something so delightfully seedy, something so powerful, and he was no different as he grinned like a fool, heart thumping so loudly that it seemed that he could hear it and not just feel it.

And then his grandmother 'awoke'.

“Steve!"

Grabbing him with both hands, she drew her grandson in for a kiss, her lips crushing passionately to his, parting them with her own. It took him a moment of freezing to catch up with what was happening but could not stop his body from at least responding in the lust of the moment, kissing her back, her hands running through his hair as Agatha even moaned as if they were long-lost lovers. Anyone watching them, of course, would have thought such but Steve's cheeks burned at the thought of someone looking through the car window and catching them not just kissing but her tits out and wobbling in the outfit that was more and more clearly too small for her... And that thought did not only come in a good way.

They couldn't be caught like that, they couldn't be seen, not until he knew what the limits for his control were, what he could do. There were experiments to be done and he groaned into the kiss, running his hands down her body, losing his tentative grasp on reality, what he knew he should have been doing. Her nipples poked through the mesh against his fingers as he squeezed her tits, one more than a single handful all on its own, and he grunted thickly in the back of his throat, cock rising within his pants. It could not be held back or tucked away and he had to keep kissing her, groping and fondling her tits as if it was only the two of them there. If that had been true, oh... The things he would have done to Grandmother Agatha!

Yet he had to break it, the lightest string of saliva connecting their lips for a fraction of a second, a tenacious connection that would soon bring them back together once more. Hot breath tickled his lips and he laughed lightly, giddily, as he slumped back in his seat, shakily raising a hand to point forward.

“Come on..." He said, the words appearing thick and foreign in his mouth as if he had never before spoken them. “Take me home... Agatha."

He didn't need to respect her as his grandmother anymore but could see her as his grandmother while making use of her and her body in other ways. The taste of her lingered in his mouth, although he did not feel the need to talk to her as they made their way home, the streets busy around the train station, which was situated in a more populous place than her actual home was.

Steve should have been more careful and yet that seemed beyond his particular realm of possibility, lust rising in his heart along with something else entirely throbbing between his thighs. Boxer-briefs had clearly been a wise idea that morning but he needed to free his erection, to let his cock out into the world, have something more for the fantasies that he had not dared breathe life into for so very long. He needed her and his hands teased her, pinching and tugging her nipples lightly out from her body, experimenting with her reactions as her soft moans and whimpers filled the car in the very best of ways. A little pinch here and squeeze there and she was all but putty in his hands, soft and malleable, something that he could shape to his will.

How deep did his control go? That was one question among many that he wanted to answer but there was nothing quite like getting to feel her smooth yet softly wrinkled skin under his fingers, the mesh lining her body like a glove. It squeezed in, leaving little indents where it pressed, but she was not going to mind something like that in the slightest as she arched her back, hands on the steering wheel, and groaned, eyes half-closed.

Steve sucked in a breath. He had to be careful, just a little bit more careful, regardless of how his heart pounded for her. They had to get home in one piece for him to truly enjoy her, despite how much he wanted to tease her and grope her, see her flesh turn softly pinker and redder from his less than gentle manipulation, nails scraping her skin...

Oh... It was all too tempting.

Others could not fail to notice that there was something up in that car, something wrong with them, his hands all over a woman that, through the windscreen, did not bear any kind of family resemblance to him. He kissed her at a stoplight, nipping her neck, licking her lips, letting her press her tongue into his mouth all over again. Their jaws dropped (there seemed to be a lot of that happening that particular day) and they gawked at the woman with her tits practically out in the car, even as Steve grunted into her mouth and suckled on her tongue. Their public display of affection was both lewd and in the open whether he thought they were secluded away enough in the car or not, breathing heavily even as he pulled one of her tits out of her clothes (if her attire could even be called that).

With her breast in his hands, he gave it the due attention she deserved, the car pulling off and someone banging on their window with a shout, leaving them in the dust. Steve and Agatha, of course, were above all of that and there was no sense in looking back at those who were so very clearly below them. Their lust was above everything else and they moaned in unison, even though it was her breast that was in his mouth, kissing and suckling on her tit-flesh as if it was the finest thing in the world for him. Steve may not have been completely inexperienced but he was not very experienced, closing his teeth lightly on her nipple and experimenting even then with what made her groan the most loudly.

Other drivers on the road honked but he could not find it in himself to care. Maybe they thought him perverted, maybe they liked what she was wearing, maybe there was more in it altogether. He didn't care what they saw or what they thought of him, only that he had his incredibly hot and sexy grandmother right there with him to please him, to pleasure him, to play out every last kinky fantasy that he had struggled, before, to bring into the glaring light of day.

Now...the world was up for grabs. And he intended to take everything for his own.

Her house was large with an enclosed garden and tall hedges surrounding the perimeter, although it was set back from the city in the suburbs. It was a quieter location and just right for what he had in mind, although he was someone who preferred the hustle of the city under any normal circumstances. The fact that the house was detached too and not a set of apartments like his home was helped a little in the sense that her moans, at least, would be set back and away from the neighbours.

He wouldn't have wanted them to stop his fun, after all.

They spoke about normal things, the weather, the traffic, all things that would have come to her lips with a roll of her eyes and mocking commentary in times past. Now, she was more amenable to him, something about Steve's presence making her want to be good for him, to please him, tucking her breast back into her mesh body stocking with a light giggle that may have been better suited to her younger years. Yet when Steve went to put his luggage in her bedroom with a curious lick of a smirk playing across his lips, her mind could not help but jolt back to at least some semblance of its former self.

“Steve!"

Her eyes widened as she shook her head, hands clasped between her breasts: not quite herself but not quite fully controlled either. Steve smiled minutely. That could be fun to play with.

“You can't sleep in there," she said, a light frown pulling at her lips. “It's my room, Steve, you know..."

But she could not force out the disparaging words that would have so very easily leapt to her lips before, his control wrapping around her like a length of rope that could bind her to him better than any pair of handcuffs ever could. Caught between two opposing manners of being, she whimpered, held there, eyes wide.

He had her.

“I'm going to sleep in your bed with you," Steve said pleasantly, gently, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Don't worry, Agatha. When will dinner be ready?"

She wavered, wobbling back and forth on black heels that he was only noticing for the first time, too tall for her small, neat feet.

“I..." She shook her head. “But the guest bedroom... It was ready."

“And I will sleep with you."

Nodding, she smiled and settled back into the way of being that seemed more comfortable, like putting on a coat that had warmed to her body already. Where was the sense in opposing him, her Steve, when she only needed to make him happy? Yes, yes, yes... Yes, he was there for her and she was there to make him smile, to make him happy too. She could not and would not have been able to say just where those thoughts had come from but, well, there was only so much that a woman like her, under his influence and however tentative control it was, could do against that.

Maybe, in time, she would see just what had happened to her. But, by that point, Steve would be more than well-equipped to deal with any delicious rebellion that Grandmother Agatha had to dish up.

“When will dinner be ready?"

His eyes bored into her, demanding an answer, and she smiled pleasantly even as the old bite of her true self flared up in her gut.

“You should cook! I picked you up!"

But there was no true anger in her words as furious as they should have been. Agatha had always had a thing against cooking ever since her late husband had expected her to cook for him day in and day out, not seeming to realise what a task it was during his lifetime to please him. It had led to her personality souring, becoming bitter and reclusive, even if Agatha had not realised it for herself. And yet she was about to fall into that all over again as Steve pulled his shoulder blades up as if an invisible string was making him taller right there where he stood.

“You will cook today."

His influence wrapped around her, persuading her psyche that cooking for him was the best thing in the world. Her smile widened.

“Yes, of course, I will."

Although Agatha was not entirely convinced, it would do for the moment, Steve smiling and pressing his lips together, heart tightening in his throat. And yet he was the one in control, steadying its beat, the thrill of ill-gained power teasing through him. She hadn't even noticed that his dick was hard.

“Only wear the clothes that I bought for you too," he added, nodding at a separate bag that he'd brought up to the first-floor landing along with them. “They will be in there for you. Put together a nice outfit."

He wanted to see what she would do in putting something together for herself, at least, which would be interesting enough for him regardless of all the other delectable nuances floating around. The dynamic of their relationship was due to change and Agatha still would not have found it in her controlled self to care that he had bought all of the new clothes (if they could really be called that) with her credit card.

For dinner, Steve sat at the table, his clothes clean and pressed, though he had known that something more comfortable and fitting for the occasion would be waiting there for him. Agatha had always liked to dress him up before like a living doll and it was about time that he had something other than coarse and scratchy fabrics against his skin, revelling in the fact that even his shirt fitted his shoulders perfectly and she couldn't even make a comment about his size or weight – not that there was anything wrong with either, of course. She was just the sort of woman that liked to pick and pick away at a person until there was nothing left of them.

Little flares still rose up from time to time but he was very much in the process of trimming those down, as much fun as it was to see her push back and learn how to draw her down, once again, into debauchery and submissiveness. He was the one in control and, eventually, her mind would come to accept that.

No... Now she was the living doll and he laughed at her as she brought out his dinner, although it was a laugh of delight and not of any mockery that would have come more naturally from her lips. Wearing a micro skirt that was so short that he could easily see her pussy and the curl of hair there (he had not paid that part of her due attention before), the sexy crop top that, aptly, topped it off barely contained her tits, which heaved and rolled as if they were actively trying to burst free. He couldn't have possibly have dressed her better himself!

“Set it down."

He didn't have to tell her what to do then but it felt right to dominate her, to tease and abuse her, to show her who was in charge. A nipple peeked out over the edge of the crop top, teasing him with a flash of what he now claimed as his, and he groaned deep in the back of his throat, whimpering softly as she placed the food down before him, though not without a bump that was a little louder than necessary. Ah... She was still in there then. Not much, confused, but still there.

But he would change that.

He didn't know what he was doing, not exerting his will by any means but seeing just how far she would be willing to go with him. He didn't need to do more, not quite yet, but his fingers tingled in anticipation that all that was, surely, to come, already complacent with the control that he had already demonstrated that he, very clearly, had over her.

And it was only going to get better from there.

“Sit on my lap."

Steve smirked, Agatha obeying as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Her mind did not even register it as something strange in that moment, although it did mean that Steve had to rush to get his trousers unzipped, not bothering with boxers or anything at all like that underneath. He'd already known what he would intend with her and had planned ahead the little he could when the world was twisting and turning around him, changing his perception of life itself into a new one of reality and drama.

His shaft throbbed up hard and ready, flush with blood, a rigid pole that was due her attention. And yet Agatha did not seem to even notice it as she sat down on his lap and, duly, his cock too, taking it inside her even as she moaned.

“Ohhh..."

Pleasure could be hers too for the wiles of the body, of course, were not to be forgotten while lust and passion had their say in all too. It was strange, so very strange, but strange in a good way to be filled again, her pussy closing and rippling around him as if she was trying to draw him deeper. He filled her perfectly as if his cock was made to fit her cunt, though she was not as tight down there as she'd once been. Her sex still stretched and conformed to the shape of him, clenching down and contracting, Steve's eyes rolling if only briefly for the delectable pleasure of being entranced by a woman's pussy all over again.

And not just any woman... His grandmother. That fact in itself could not be ignored as he let her sit there, legs spread and parted around his own, her feet balanced on the smooth wood of the dining room floor, though he would not have chanced to say that they were flat. There'd only been one pair of heels in the bag for her to wear, even though he would duly find more for her collection, the strappy length of them going up past her ankles and leaving her with a four-inch heel that he could not have honestly fathomed how she was able to walk in. Maybe mind control stretched that far too?

He would see, very soon... But there was no time for that thought to linger as he wrapped his arms around her, almost considering forgetting dinner altogether for he had a more delightful treat in his lap at that very moment. Agatha faced him, head rolling back, the quivering expanse of her vulnerable throat bared and on show as she whimpered, squeezing down on him with both her pussy and her thighs as if she was trying to say something without using her words.

That was okay. His hands slid down her body and she blinked, her mind not understanding why it felt so good. Her pussy wanted to keep him there, slammed up inside her, fully seated, and the thick rod of man-flesh was all that she wanted, her hands trembling up to his shoulders as if in offering. Agatha could not resist the urge to squeeze around him, although her muscles were weaker after the years had taken her youth and vitality from her. It was okay though: she would have plenty of time to get used to taking a man all over again as Steve fucked her during the course of his stay.

Why did that thought pop into her head? Was that right? Was that wrong? She did not know, could not tell, closing her fingers gently, trembling, on his shoulders, lips parted in a soft moan. A breast squeezed itself free, seemingly of its own volition, of her crop top and spilt out, only to be captured by her grandson's mouth as he hungrily sucked her tit between his lips, tonguing her nipple and swirling the wet, flexible appendage around and around.

“Ohhh...."

Yet a moan was no longer good enough for Steve as his stomach grumbled anxiously, craving dinner, and he laughed softly, freeing her tit from his lips. Why couldn't he have his cake and eat it too? Things had changed... His life had changed.

“You shouldn't let my dinner get cold," he said, lifting himself up into a fresh position of dominance, relishing in it. “Feed me... But don't forget about me."

He added a sultry tone to his voice and licked his lips very deliberately in such a way that could have been considered as overdone and contrived in any other circumstances but was perfect for that time. Agatha, shakily, nodded, lips parted, and turned, still pinned down and speared on his cock, to fetch the cutlery from where it was waiting on the table. It glinted innocently but there was nothing innocent about the twist of her cunt on his breeding rod, the fat length of cock-meat demanding her attention even as he said that he wanted something else. Could she get off him? What did he mean? How did she please him?

Strange thoughts... All very strange thoughts that she could not currently spare the time to examine. Better to do what Steve said, yes: that felt good. That felt right. And what trouble could possibly come from something that felt so right?

She didn't have to think when he was there to think for her, rotating on and squeezing his cock as she fed him, twisting back and forth. There was no easy way to do it but Steve was hardly going to complain about that as her light movements forced her cunt to rise and fall on his cock, almost as if she was actively thinking for herself. That was a moment in itself to be enjoyed as he leaned back, letting her feed him as if he was a king, the pastry of the pie that she had cooked soft and flaky, a culinary sensation that he knew, very well, that he would never have otherwise have been treated to.

Yes, she did better under his control, he decided, smiling slightly. She was there for his pleasure now, to what extent he would find out one day, exploring and pushing, breaking down every last one of his limits. As she fed him, his fantasies ran wild, one chasing the anxious tail of the one that came before, each one striving for precedence even as her pussy rippled around him in abject arousal. Regardless of what she was thinking or where her mind was actually at during the highly intimate act, her body could not fail to respond to the thickness of his shaft, teasing up to her inner barrier as she sat down more heavily, responding as only a willing body possibly could.

Mind control could go so far...but Steve had heard that it was not something that anyone could be forced into, forced to do something that went so very against what they were made up of, who they truly were. Hypnotists tried to get people to steal wallets as a test and they didn't – did that mean that his grandmother really wanted him to fuck him too?

He couldn't have possibly have allowed a thought into his mind that was more of an ego boost than that and moaned out his lust as his cock throbbed and twitched within her. Steve didn't need to see his cock to know that he was spilling out more and more pre-cum, slickening the path for his prick even though he was not actively thrusting at that moment. His seed, creamy and thickly viscous in the prelude to the actual event, felt as if it was messily slopping out of her with every twist of her body and Steve caught his breath, languishing in sensation, every moment clawing for his attention above the one that had preceded it.

It was good... Too good, in fact. He had to hold back and yet it was hard to with her pussy squeezing him, pulsing and rippling, trying to claim him. And yet was he not the one that was supposed to claim her, his dear grandmother who had brought him so much good and so much bad in his life? The lines were blurred and he didn't know what he should have been thinking, if anything at all, food passing the barrier of his lips as he struggled even to remember that he was supposed to be chewing and swallowing, throat working to convey sustenance down into his gut.

Yet his guts churned, wanting something more, need rising within him, a heady curl of desire flaring up deep in his heart, that caged soul. It beat and it beat, pounding out a rhythm that was both consistent and erratic in nature, the senses of how he was and was supposed to be changing and shifting around him. It would have been hard enough for him to come to grips with if he'd not been balls-deep in his grandmother at that very moment in time but she made him want to fuck her hard and fast, to thrust and spill his load, not even caring whether or not she was related to him. At times in his life, she most certainly had not acted as if she was.

And yet it was not payback or revenge that he was exacting on her, ignoring the past in the presence of such fantasies brought to life, panting and groaning as he snatched up what breath he could claim for his own. Sweat dampened soft patches under his arms but there was no worry about it being mocked or even seen as Agatha did her work, breath a little quicker and heavier than normal as her needy cunt closed and pulled at him. It was the natural twist and need of her body that brought it to the limelight, her passion rising, throbbing up thick and fast, her pussy trying to massage his length. She was hardly in control of her body and it was just as well that her grandson was there to take charge for her, breasts shivering out of her top as he tugged it down, revealing both of her tits over the silky fabric that, truly, was not needed to contain her tits anyway.

Oh, she needed it, that much was true... Agatha didn't need to deny just how good a cock, his cock, felt driven up inside her. Maybe she had never been allowed to feel that before, let alone think it, her sex life convoluted and twisted in the worst of ways. It was good and bad though not in equal measures and the memory of it slipped through her fingers like water, something that she could not cling onto as the time whispered away. She moaned softly, head falling back, her pussy rippling and twitching around that delectable shaft, feeling the size of it even though she had not yet put her hand on it.

Did she want that? It was a strange thought to have, the desire to take another cock in her hand, an intrusive thought bursting through to the forefront of her mind. It could not be quite possible that her pussy was engaged in swallowing down Steve's dick but some part of her too wanted to feel her lips around his head, whether it was slick or dry, taking his shaft into her mouth rather than her cunt. Some who knew her well would have said that there was not any difference between the two but Agatha knew and there was so much more she could actively do with her tongue than her pussy, suckling and teasing...

She could not help but drift, swept up and away on a pulsating, driving cloud of lust and passion. Everything came to a head without her form or consent as she whimpered and let him kiss her neck, the cock driven up into her pussy reminiscent of the fucks she had before, if only this time she could voice her desire for him. Her moans rose and rose, rocking and grinding on him, barely able to continue on with her task of delivering him dinner – but she had to! There was no choice or option in it for her as her cunt clenched, muscles tightening, head spinning, wanting every last little thing her grandson had to give her and more too.

Always more... More. How could it possibly be any kind of crime to want that more, to hunger for it as need clawed at her throat, cutting off breath. No, she'd always had that need up deep inside of her but had never been permitted to release it before – until Steve, that was. And just look at all he had done for her already, giving her wonderful clothes, things that she'd never even have thought to ever buy for herself, and even getting his cock up in her. Was that not something that a true lover would do with such fervently ardent passion to pave the way?

She didn't know and neither did Agatha have to know as the lines between her dreams and the stringent thrum of reality blurred, twisting and turning with her caught up in the web in the midst. It was not clear, had never been clear, just what thoughts were hers to claim and what had come from another source but Steve's mind control, of course, was clunky at best at that point. Maybe at some time in the future, he would operate his manner of hypnosis with at least a little more finesse but, until then, she would wonder and push, rebellion rising and quaffing itself, curiosity intertwined with concern for her own sense of self. Whatever that was.

Steve groaned, cock twitch. No longer did it even feel like his own dick, disembodied from his body and mind and yet, even then, in the best of ways. Every sensation was heightened, driven to a sharp point of desire, as he thrust, hips lifting from his chair, although he had already forgotten that he had instructed her to feed him. Although his stomach still growled for that particular kind of attention, it was another hunger that his grandmother was now due to satisfy, his hands clutching hers and pinning them down against her hips, a snarl ripping itself crudely and coarsely from his lips.

“Ffffuck!"

Agatha stiffened, yet did not move away from him.

“Steve! Oh... Language..."

A little of her old self in there but not enough to slap him, hand connecting smartly with his cheek, and show him just what she really thought about him. No, no, no: she would never have usually allowed him to speak like that to her but the status quo had twisted beyond all recognition and Steve laughed shortly, no amusement in the sound.

“What?" He prodded the bear, eyes dancing. “Have something to say?"

As the tension of the moment rose and rose, drawn as taut as an archer's bowstring, he laughed and challenged her to stand up against him but it was as if there was a step missing for her along the way, drawing his grandmother up short, jaws comically agape. Chewing, she opened and closed her mouth, eyes so widely strained that one could have been forgiven for wondering if they were about to pop out of her very head in such a cartoony fashion.

“I... Uh... Ohhh... Oh, Steve."

Her words came warm with passion and he snatched up her lips in his own, taking advantage of their position face to face to kiss her deeply. And it was only then that he allowed the pleasure of orgasm to rise up through him like the unfurling of a whip, striking out lustfully as his cock spurted, the tightness in his nuts only registering a beat after it had happened. Ah, he was quick off the draw but it was alright when he was with Agatha, for she didn't have the words left in her mental vocabulary to mock him about it anymore. It just wasn't the done thing for her anymore and that was fine, just fine, his seed flowing into her, a dribble and a spurt that he didn't care to catalogue.

There was nothing for her to pick at. His heart surged. She couldn't say anything. Not even that he wasn't doing enough or that he wasn't doing something that was, in all honesty, perfectly fine right and he relished in that, ploughing her full as she squeaked and bounced on his lap. In that moment, she may as well have just been a sex doll unto which he could unleash his lust, though a warm, living one that he could moan into the mouth of while her tongue hungrily tangled with his, wet and wanton and all kinds of wild.

She kissed him back as fiercely as he kissed her, taking her cues from him, her grandson in the lead. That was all that was needed, yes, and she flushed hotly, red patches colouring her cheeks as if they had been touched with the makeup brush of a younger woman. He was so young and hot and virile and she wanted to put her hands on him so badly that her fingers trembled, itching towards him with the need of one who had not had such liberty in so many years. Not even her own body had been prey to such impulses and desires but she had, somehow, found satisfaction with her solitude and lack of sexual drive – yet how could it be that her very own grandson had too managed to awaken it in her, show her exactly what she'd been missing the whole time?

It was not done yet even as his orgasm trailed off and his cock softened, their lips pressed together, his kiss sloppy and rough. Again, it failed to matter in the grand scheme of all that served to develop between them, Steve finally releasing her hands from his iron-grip as she whimpered, shivering and staring at him as if he was the best thing in the world, complete adoration shining through her blue eyes.

“Oh..." She whispered, clutching her hands to her breasts. “Oh, Steve..."

“No."

He kissed her, sealing away her words, his softening cock slipping free of her pussy, though it would soon find a purpose there once more. His hands took their time in wandering her body, feeling her curves, finally taking in, with a little more time and closeness, just how chubby she'd gotten since he'd last left. If he had not known about the mind control and all that he could now do, however rudimentary his skills were, he would have considered it indeed a delightful coincidence. It was not that he'd spent a considerable amount of time lingering over pornography or the like where more voluptuous, curvy women were the centre of attention but he did like to look at women in the street that were thicker and more delicious for it. Just what was the point in lusting for someone, after all, if they weren't enough for his hands to handle? He was slim enough as he was that he didn't want someone as sharp and angular as him, even though he didn't have any desire either to change how his body was naturally.

Maybe he should try to hypnotise himself to make himself gain weight and muscle, becoming the true stud of them all?

He laughed at the thought, brushing it aside. Oh no, that was not for him. He would be as he was and, well, his control made his grandmother look at him as if he really was a stud anyway, so just what was he touching on worrying about how he looked? She thought he was a god and that was more than good enough for him!

His cock hardened again, slowly, as he explored her body, there being no rush in anything he had to do. He could take his time, lust after her, long for her, tease her, take her nipples in his teeth. It was good too that she had gained weight as it made her breasts more wantonly heavy and more slutty than ever, rolling, heaving mounds of womanly flesh that he drooled over, almost literally. Steve, however, was not quite that crude, even though sucking them into his mouth, one after the other, and toying with her nipples was quickly becoming his favourite game of the moment.

Agatha shivered, head spinning. Wasn't she supposed to be doing something? Hadn't Steve asked her...asked her to... Oh, the thought was gone and she leaned into his touch, blushing. It was strange, so very strange, and she could not think of another time in her life at all that she'd ever before had her tits sucked, though the sensation was oddly erotic. Her breath caught, tightening in her throat, heart thudding, the fragile skin of her chest tender to the touch as her pulse leapt through. His hands were perfect, more perfect than she could have imagined, and Agatha didn't know whether to lean into him one way or the other, caught between conflicting desires.

And, still, there was his cock throbbing up thick and full, her hand reverently closing around it as she sat on his legs, his seed drooling from her pussy. She had not yet climaxed but that thought no longer seemed to be of any importance in her head as her sense of stability in reality tilted and swayed, like looking into a mirror at one of those circus or carnival attractions that her husband, so very many years ago back when they'd been courting, had taken her to. It came with a strange perception that her world had become distorted and yet permanently so, her feet no longer seeming stable under her, shoulders rolling back as she gasped lightly.

Things were strange... And yet his cock felt too good in her hand to pass up, mind reeling from broken reality. No... No, she would not think, not then. She didn't have to think, not really, as long as she thought of Steve, his shaft, how much she wanted to get her mouth around his cock. It was not to be at that time, however, as his hands lifted her up, seating her back down on his cock, which was still slick from her arousal and the mess of his previous orgasm.

So studly... She swooned in his arms, letting him grope and tease her tits as much as he pleased. Oh, he could do anything to her, anything at all, and all she wanted was to please him. He was the one for her, the only man she could ever imagine taking her pleasure with, and he nipped her neck, teeth snagging skin in the best way. She had not even known that it was possible for her heart to pound so violently in a good way, leaping and dancing and sending her forth into the span of a new life and sexuality.

Her sexuality... Well, her sexuality was Steve and Steve alone. And that was all she needed it to be.

His cock throbbed with her and, ignorant to what was going on in her mind, he groaned and ploughed into her cunt, driving in hard and fast, passion rising and rising. There was no holding back even though he lasted longer the second time than he had the first, cock throbbing and pulsing, deliberating on sending his cream out into the tightness that was her cunt. But it was Agatha indeed who decided that for him as she cried out her climax, clinging to him like the lover he truly wanted her to be, her hands on him, his shoulders, his waist, his hips. His dinner was forgotten as the miniskirt rode up even further than before, clearly exposing the curl of hair at her crotch, pussy-lips strained around his throbbing shaft.

She took every drop like a professional whore but the clean-up was not for him to undertake, sitting back with a smirk and his hands behind his head while she cleaned him up with her tongue and set about tidying. Her meal had been forgotten but the tantalisingly brief taste of his cum and her juices lingering in her mouth and on her lips was all that Agatha needed as she murmured her pleasure, bouncing step by step, light on her feet even in those heels. She looked her best and was her best with Steve, thus nothing else mattered.

Going to bed was another endeavour but one that Steve had prepared for, instructing her on just what she was to wear. There was no note in his mind as to what he wanted to push her into, only expanding on what they had already done and enjoyed together, and Steve was not quick-thinking enough to know that the possibilities in mind control were, truly, endless. He lay in her bed, smelling softly of floral fragrances that he would duly have to replace at some point, and smirked, the half-smile perpetually tugging at his lips as if it had been born there. It was a nice bedroom, if simple, and he would enjoy debasing it, uncovering what secrets it hid even if they would ultimately only ever be used for his own pleasure. That was, after all, just what was most important now too.

He didn't think as she stepped into the bedroom, dressed in the best lingerie that he had bought with her credit card. It was a baby doll of sorts with a black cross of lace over her chest that swept up over her shoulders and left a teardrop between her tits as if the fabric was designed to act as a bra. Of course, it was nowhere near as supportive as she would have needed it to be and her huge, curvy tits hung down heavily under their own weight, nipples poking darkly out against the fabric.

From there, a shimmering fall of black veiled her stomach and pussy, although it was so sheer that it didn't leave anything at all to the imagination, showing off the curves of her legs too in a thicker way than the miniskirt earlier had done. A pair of lace panties in a like, sheer shade completed the ensemble, drawing his cock to a rise as he lay there, naked from head to toe, head laid back against the pillows as if he had slept there for many years instead of never before.

Steve licked his lips with a low groan. In every way, she was perfect.

“Come here," he murmured, not thinking to raise his voice despite her age, her hearing not what it had once been. “Lie down."

Agatha smiled and floated through the room lightly, barefoot for once, her bed beckoning her. Only now it was far better than it had been, welcoming her into the arms of a man – oh, such a man! Steve was a man who could hold her tight and she slipped into the bed without a thought for what doing so meant for her, toes curling against the fresh, soft sheets.

“Yes," she breathed, eyes alight. “Yes, Steve... Oh..."

But she did not have the chance or the words to vocalise what she wanted from him, which was okay too. She had Steve and he was there, Steve in her bed, in her arms. One thought nipped at the heels of the other and she groaned lightly, resisting the unusual urge to rub her head, confusion ringing through like the chime of a bell. Things didn't make sense but something in the back of her mind told her that it wasn't important to understand, as long as things felt good, as long as they felt well in themselves to her.

“I'm going to lie on top of you," he whispered huskily, stoking the fire of his own need as much as hers. “And you're going to sleep with my cock inside you tonight."

Whether it tantalised him more than her was by the by as Agatha gasped and he rolled on top of her, the only light to guide them the softness of the small bedside lamp, set beside the bed. It had a soft, orange shade clasping the bulb, which at least cast them into rather flattering illumination, his body shifting over hers, the heaving rounds of her breasts only mildly restrained, or so it seemed. His shaft raised to her attention and she could not resist clasping him in her hands too, groping for his cock, remembering already just how his cum had tasted in her mouth. He had not yet permitted her to shower either – truly, the thought of such a thing was not even on her mind – and her pussy leaked his seed from earlier, a creamy reminder of all that had changed with her so very loving grandson.

He kissed her lightly, tenderly, testing out a new nuance of their relationship, exploring as much as he was learning. His cock sank into her pussy as if it was finding its way home once again, so very easily that it took him a juddering moment before he realised just where his cock was sealed away. And yet Agatha's cunt welcomed him in as easily as it had done the first time, her moan fluttering against her lips, softly sensual in the tingling pleasure of a moment that he could not have honestly said that he had ever before experienced for himself.

It was slow and it did not need to be any quicker, sensual and charming, their bodies coming together less like grandmother and grandson but that of two lovers who had known each other for many years already. The bedroom there – that could be his too! Did he not see that, the bond he had brought to fresh, flaring life with Agatha? One could be as confused as the other as he charmed her with the lust and passion of his body, hips working, driving into her with long, overpowering strokes that would have made her swoon faintly if she'd been standing or perhaps even sitting. Such was the power of her grandson and everything Steve had learned in such a short time, his sexual experiences ramping up tenfold and more again still.

Steve yawned but he did not yet want to stop as he put his head on her breasts, letting orgasm flood him, glutes tensing, spending himself inside her – but that was only for the first time that night. One orgasm did not become everything he had to offer and the soft heat of her pussy secluding his rod away like a glove was more than he could bear.

He could not, of course, grow hard again straight away but he awoke sometime later, the lamp still illuminating the bedroom, to his grandmother rocking and grinding lightly against him, her moans gently caressing the air. Agatha was not too loud as if she had no desire to wake him but Steve could not help but be aroused by her shifting moan, climaxing on his cock as her wetness trickled down from her pussy, tingling over his nuts. It made him want to thrust into her, however gently, his face squashed down into her lace-covered tits as he groaned quietly, so very quietly.

His tongue and lips would not resist the lure of her breasts, of course, and Steve tongued them as he ground into her, letting the passion of the movement dictate just how long or hard he thrust. There were more times to be had between them and he was not a man so inclined to rush things, slipping in and out of sweet unconsciousness as the night ticked on, their bodies coming together in kinkily carnal bliss. In and out, the massaging pulse of her pussy in climax was more than enough to get him off, drifting between dreamland and reality, loving both equally.

Sensation and sleep, oh that sifting temptress of the night, were all that were required for the tantalising nature of her pussy to claim him over and over again, although such pleasure was returned to Steve each and every time. It was not for him, of course, to take and not give anything back, grunting deeply as he filled his grandmother's pussy, the older woman hardly sleeping through the night at all but not caring one bit either way. She had what she needed, who she craved, and her arms around her grandson were all that was required as she ran them down his back again and again, luxuriating in the feel of him pressed up against her. Her panties pulled to the side around his cock and she moaned, the lace soaked through, though there just had not seemed to be any time to remove them earlier when Steve had wanted her so badly.

Softly, softly: the night took them. Yet Steve had one thing left to say in his final moment of wakefulness, smiling and kissing her lips, hair a tousled mess. Holding her face, he blinked sleepily, on the edge of the abyss once more, although it was one that he would return from in the morning, his hard shaft still locked in where it belonged.

“Our fun is only just about to begin."

Only the days that followed would show the truth of those words.