A young man is mind-controlled into becoming a mama’s boy! (Enjoy reading)
***********
Jason Reynolds
Hair still wet from the shower, I stared at the belt draped across my bed. Black and with a silver buckle on the end. I frowned and picked it up. The script on the belt had my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I whirled around and burst out of the door. I barreled down the stairs and charged through the living room.
It was a lazy Saturday morning. Mom and Dad were sitting at the table sipping coffee and lingering over their breakfast. Mom glanced up at me, her curly, brown hair spilling about her face. Her green eyes fixed on me.
“You found your gift,” she said with delight. “Do you like it?”
Dad was staring down at his phone, flicking through social media or something, not paying attention at all.
“No!” I shook the belt at my mother. It swayed in my hand, jangling. “What the heck is this?”
“A belt,” Mom said with amusement. “I saw it yesterday at Target and thought you’d like it.”
“Like it?” I gasped. “I can’t wear this.”
“Sure you can,” Mom said. “You slide it through the loops of those jeans you’re wearing and buckle it up. Easy peasy.”
“I’m not wearing this.” I shook it again. “No fricking way.”
“Your mother bought it for you, so you’ll wear it,” Dad growled in that same voice he used on perps. He was a cop. His eyes lifted to meet mine. He might be balding, but that didn’t change the authority in his eyes. “Do you understand me, Jason?”
“I…” I swallowed. “Fine. Just get my ass kicked at school wearing this thing.” Mama’s Boy. Why for the sake of all that was fucking holy, would she buy me a belt that had Mama’s Boy written on it. Didn’t she get what it was like to be eighteen? Couldn’t she remember what people my age would think?
I was boned.
“You’re being dramatic, Jason,” Mom said, rolling her eyes. “No one’s going to care. Now, are you cleaning your room today?”
“Maybe,” I lied. I had better things to do.
“Go clean your room,” she said and picked up her mug. She sipped her coffee. “And put on that belt. I want to see how handsome you look in it.”
She stared at me with this expectant smile. I groaned. I couldn’t say no to that. Grumbling, I began threading the belt through the loops on my pants. It whisked through one after the other. I pulled it tighter and tighter, the leather rasping as I worked it around. Then I buckled it up tight, the silver falling into place.
A tingle raced over my skin. A prickling of my arms. I blinked at that and shook my head.
“Oh,” Mom groaned in that happy, motherly way. “Don’t you look so handsome? Ooh, Jason, you’re becoming a man.” She stood up and hugged me. I became so aware of her large breasts pressing into my chest through her top. She held me tight. “My baby boy is growing up. But you’ll always be my little boy.”
“Mom,” I groaned in embarrassment at her words, this heat rising in me. Why was I noticing her boobs? I could feel how soft they were. Christ, I don’t think she had a bra on. Her nipples poked hard into my chest through our t-shirts.
“Now go clean your room,” she said.
“Yes, Mom,” I said. I broke from her embrace and turned, hurrying from the kitchen. I had to go clean my room right now. I blinked in shock at how eager I was to obey. I hated cleaning my room. It just got messy again. I didn’t see the point of making my bed and putting away my clothes and straightening everything up.
But now…
Mom wanted me to clean my room. I raced up the stairs to my bedroom, bewildered by all of this. I burst into the disaster that it was. It would take me hours to clean. I could be going out and hanging with Tim, James, Carl, and Eduardo.
I stared at it. Almost overwhelmed by the task at hand. But I had to do my best. I had to put my all into it. I rolled up my metaphorical sleeves–I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt–and went to work. I started in one spot and attacked it.
Like I thought, it was a task that took a few hours. I was working up a sweat as I gathered up dirty and clean clothes. I folded the latter and threw the former into the hamper. I straightened up my stuff. I made my bed. I picked up garbage, far too many Kleenexes that were stuck together, and other items. I opened my window to help air it out.
I even got the vacuum cleaner and ran it through the floor, picking up so much junk.
I stared at my room and looked at how clean it was. Way cleaner than I normally would make it. This was something that would make Mom happy. I was shocked that I wanted to make her happy this much. It’s not like I wanted to make her miserable, I just wanted to do my own shit.
I was eighteen. She didn’t seem to get that.
This dumb belt was an example. Who the fuck would make one that read Mama’s Boy?
The task was done, I headed downstairs. I found my mom in the living room chatting with Mrs. Best. She was the hot, blonde MILF that was best friends with my mom. Mrs. Best was also my friend Tim’s mother. So I had had plenty of time to lust after her while hanging out at his place.
To say that I hadn’t whacked off to the busty Mrs. Best would be an understatement. If ever I wanted to have a Mrs. Robinson experience, it was with her. Only Donna, the hot cheerleader with the red hair I had a crush on, graced my masturbatory fantasies more often than Mrs. Best.
And not by much.
The MILF sat on the couch by my mom, the pair looking at each other. They were both wearing sundresses, Mom having changed, and had glasses of iced tea in hand, condensation spilling down the sides. It wasn’t quite summer yet, but it was starting to feel like it.
“I finished cleaning my room, Mom,” I said, standing before her with this strange craving to gain her approval. What had gotten into me? “I’m going to go to Carl’s house. That cool.”
“I heard you vacuuming,” Mom said, this look of joy in her green eyes. She smiled at me, the bodice of her sundress hugging her large breasts tightly. God, she had tits as big as Mrs. Best. How had I never noticed that before?
Heat hardened my cock. That couldn’t be because of my mother. It had to be because of Mrs. Best. She was here. That gorgeous woman always had my blood boiling. She had that plump smile on her lips, her large breasts rising and falling in the tight fit of her sundress.
“I’m so proud of you, honey,” she said, smiling at me. “Thank you for cleaning your room.”
My cheeks warmed. “It’s no biggie, Mom. I just want to make you happy.”
Why the fuck had those words tumbled from my mouth? Why did I feel like I want to do everything she said. What had happened to me. It was like the belt was making me into what it said on the buckle. What a terrifying thought.
“So, can I go to Carl’s?” I asked.
“Oh, would you be a dear and give me a foot massage before you go?” she asked, smiling at me. She took a sip of her iced tea. “They’re still sore from doing all that shopping yesterday.”
“Sure, Mom,” I said to my shock again. I wanted to get out of here. The other guys had been texting me, telling me to get my ass over there. We were supposed to be having a Smash Brothers Tournament right now.
I wanted nothing more than to get out of here, and yet I was smiling and kneeling before my mother. I lifted her foot and peeled off the pink ankle sock she had on. It slid it off her dainty feet. She had small toes.
I held her foot in my hand and started kneading across the sole with my thumbs. I dug them in at the heel. She let out a groan and leaned back. Her brown hair rustling around her face. A look of delight crossed her mature features. Her breasts rose and fell in her top.
“Oh, Lisa, this is amazing,” Mom said. “Ooh, you have got to get Tim to do this for you.”
“I can’t get my son to clean his room,” Mrs. Best said. “I can’t believe Jason did that. And now he’s giving you a foot massage? Tim’s been talking all morning about some stupid tournament they’re doing.”
“Well, my Jason’s a good boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Mom,” I said, staring at her, aching to gain her approval.
She smiled at me.
Joy burst through me, my cock so hard. I worked harder on her massaging her foot. She groaned, closing her eyes. Mrs. Best watched on in envy. I rubbed my thumbs slowly up her foot, my fingers massaging the top. I worked closer and closer to her toes, digging into the ball of her foot. Her toes flexed and relaxed.
Her little sighs were so exciting. I was relaxing with my mother. I was making her feel good. That felt so important to me. I couldn’t stop what I was doing. I had to keep massaging her. Keep relaxing her. She arched her back, the couch creaking.
“Jason,” she groaned.
I loved that I was doing this to her. That I was massaging her and making her feel good.
“The other foot,” she purred, licking her lips. Her breasts jiggled. Her nipples poked hard into the material. “Ooh, you’re making me feel so good. Thank you, Jason.”
“Yeah, he is making you feel good,” purred Mrs. Best. “Wow. What a wonderful son you have, Rita. I am insanely jealous.”
“I’m lucky,” Mom purred. “Mmm, I have such a wonderful son. Yes, yes, he’s just amazing. Ooh, Jason, yes, yes, do my other foot. Mama needs that.”
Mama…
Why did that make my cock so hard? Why was my mom turning me on? And why the fuck was I doing this? I had better things to do. But I was pulling off the right sock. In moments, her dainty foot was exposed.
I grabbed her foot and massaged her. I didn’t even try to rush it. I took my time. I wanted to give my mother the best experience possible. This thrill shot through me as she moaned. I was making her feel good. I wanted to please my mother.
What had this belt done to me?
This wasn’t me? I wasn’t a mama’s boy.
My fingers worked up her foot, my thumbs digging into her sole. She groaned again, her breasts jiggling beneath her sundress. Her legs parted, her skirt around her knees. This strange ache to see up her skirt shot through me.
It should be Mrs. Best I was lusting after. The blonde was a gorgeous woman. The hottest MILF I knew. She could stack up to girls my age in the looks department. And yet here I was lusting after my mother like she was…
Hotter.