Luna and Feliciana Ch. 06

Chapter 6

"You love being hypnotized by me, don't you, Mom?" Grant looked up at his entranced mother anxiously.

"I love being hypnotized by you..." There wasn't a trace of doubt in Feliciana's mind. That explained how she'd gone under so easily.

She hadn't questioned why Luna was leaving in a huff, her son's sweet sincerity alleviating any worry she may have had. All it took was a brief swing of the necklace in front of her face, and she immediately sank into trance, dropping into the ocean of his control like there was a boulder tied to her foot. Her half-focused eyes obediently tracked the necklace's path, only closing when her whole body went limp as he lowered out of her sightline. He'd graciously fondled her the whole way down.

Her limp body leaned against him, eyes opening at his command. Her glazed and mindless expression spurred him on even further. He was already tenting his jeans.

"Good girl," Grant encouraged her. She'd sat down on his bed immediately, accepting their closeness as not only an unchanging fact but something to be encouraged, even celebrated. She wanted to be as close with him as possible. "You feel pleasure from being hypnotized by me, the same as when I touch you," he stated coercingly.

Any thought she could have had would be vocalized. She simply didn't have the capacity here to linger on an idea; to mull it over. He would hear any and all of it. "...I feel pleasure from being hypnotized by you..."

"Your son brings you so much happiness and pleasure...isn't it so nice that he's doing this for you?" He gloated.

"...yes...it's so nice of him..." She was putty in his hands, and not just mentally.

He squeezed her breast, 'massaging' her thoroughly. "You love how your son touches you."

She melted into his firm gropes. "...I love how my son touches me..."

"You love it when your son massages your breasts."

"...I love it..."

"You love it when your son touches your breasts." A minor distinction, but one that opened the door for more involved touching later, unrelated to massages.

Feliciana didn't pick up on the nuance. "...I love it when my son touches my breasts..."

"When I touch your breasts, you feel warmth and pleasure throughout your whole body."

"...mmm..." She hummed happily, his influence quickly spreading.

He couldn't hide his grin, but she wouldn't have cared either way. "Is there anything wrong with what I'm doing? With how it makes you feel?" He had to check that his programming had firmly stuck in her mind, but he didn't want to ask her if she had a problem with 'incest.' To go out with that word would be a step in the wrong direction: even if he tried to negatively associate what he was doing with it, the word itself would still stick in her subconscious. It was better to completely sidestep it, never mentioning it so she could never come to that conclusion. He had to make sure that was as far afield of her mind as possible, exactly like it was now.

With a happy sigh, she shook her head. "...no, there's nothing wrong...this isn't sexual, it's just a massage..."

"Good girl." He continued fondling her for a moment longer, seeing as they both appreciated it so much. He wasn't going to make progress this way, though, and it was time to insert his influence into other facets of her subconscious. "This is the kind of pleasure you'd dream about, isn't it, Mom?"

Oddly enough, she frowned at his attempt. "...no..."

His brows arched. "Why's that?"

"...I have...bad dreams..."

That was interesting. Perhaps Grant's continued work at reforming his family into his personal sex slaves could have an altruistic component, beyond his own pleasure. "How often do you have good dreams?"

"...about once a month..."

"Well, why's that?"

Feliciana paused for a moment, but she said the reason he suspected soon enough. "...stress..." It was hard working at a school. Being two places at once all the time was draining.

This could have been problematic, but he realized that with the relaxation he was supplying her, her built-up worry would have to have been at least somewhat alleviated. It was time to test the waters. "Lately, haven't you been rather stress-free thanks to me hypnotizing you?" He grabbed her tit to help ease her into it.

He held his breath as she paused, but it wasn't long before she played into his hand. "...yes..." The firmness of her word encouraged him.

"Wouldn't it make sense to dream about something that has had an impact on you?" Soon, he began fondling her breast around, imprinting a soft pattern with his hands.

"...yes..." Her response was more monotone this time. She was falling into a rhythm with his words and hands.

"If I'm easing all this stress from you, I think it's perfectly reasonable to dream about what's causing the absence of that stress instead of what's causing it in the first place."

"...yes..." Her rhythm repeated over, and over.

"In this trance, with me, I can help your subconscious out directly."

"...yes..." And over, and over.

"You're going to dream about me hypnotizing you."

"...yes..." So easy.

"You're going to dream about me touching you."

"...yes..." Her soft, malleable mind didn't need to understand the details.

"You're going to dream about me making you happy, and giving you pleasure."

"...yes..." She got so much pleasure from him.

"Tell me that." He intended to snap her out of her rhythm, as to entrain it deep in her mind.

It worked, and her eyes opened a bit as he stirred her from the bliss of unthinking obedience. He wanted her to think, though. To fully accept her commands. He didn't have to wait long. "...I'll dream about my son making me happy...and giving me pleasure..."

He smiled, squeezing her breast nice and tight. "Good girl, Mom. Very good girl."

She moaned under her breath. He strained his jeans even further.

Feliciana was utterly and completely grateful to receive her son's relaxation. She had to deal with a lot of stress in her life, and that manifested itself in her dreams. In one recurring nightmare, she was in the back seat of her car, unable to reach the steering wheel as it swerved all over the highway. The lack of control in that situation terrified her, but here it could only be soothing.

"Good girl, Mom. Very good girl."

She couldn't hide her excitement at how much she had pleased him. That was her duty as a mother: to make her son happy. To make her children happy, more broadly, but her son was incredibly important to her. She knew not to rank them and say that he was _the most_ important to her, but that didn't mean she wasn't thinking it. More grateful hums exited her parted lips as he massaged her breast.

"Where else would you let me touch you, Mom?" He flashed a sly grin.

That was a bit of an odd question, but not one she was ill-equipped to handle. They'd been over this before, after all. "...my shoulder...my arms...my hands...my torso...my legs...my head...my front..."

Grant let her get through the whole list before offering a suggestion. "Since you've said I can touch most of your body, it makes sense to talk about where I _can't_ touch you."

It certainly wasn't an unreasonable idea. Exclude, rather than include. That would help them get closer, since her list would be shorter. "...makes sense..."

"Where would you not let me touch you?" He rubbed his midriff during and after his question.

After some thought, she came up with a quick list. "...my behind...and between my legs..." Those were both too far for her. It seemed very reasonable.

From his face, it was clear he didn't agree. "How come I can't touch your...behind?"

She thought of something after giving her tired mind some time to think. "...it's not where massages are given..."

He pursed his lips. "I know that some are. I suppose you don't want me to give you all the pleasure I can, though..."

No! She didn't want that at all. She shook her head immediately, her tired mind trying to show how much she needed the happiness he brought her. "...I need your pleasure..."

His hand shifted to her skirt, scooting dangerously close to her butt and priming her body already. "You need to be attractive for me," he prodded her.

"...I need to be attractive for you..." She pleaded.

"It's only fair to let me touch your butt."

She couldn't hold out, not with him teasing her so exceptionally. "...it's...it's only fair..." She hadn't been sure of herself when she said it, so she'd barely been able to put up a fight, especially when it felt so good to acquiesce to his demands. Besides, he was massaging her breasts already. Surely this wasn't a big leap. It made sense. She wouldn't regret it.

As soon as he got her permission, he swiftly moved to touch her ass. "It feels so pleasurable, doesn't it, Mom?"

She whimpered in his grasp, unable to deny how good his hands felt as he toyed with her body. "...yes..." His hand couldn't hold the whole of her sizable ass, but it was all-encompassing nonetheless. This was part of why she had wanted to hold out: she didn't want to lose her composure in front of her son. She didn't want him to see her in a sexual context. She was sure to not let that happen.

"You want to be attractive for your son."

"...yes..." Softball. Of course she did. There was absolutely no contradiction between that and her previous thought. She answered at once, with no hesitation.

"Have you been as attractive as you can for him?"

That one spurred some thought, but only for a second before she came to a reasonable conclusion. "...no..."

"There are some things that you _know_ you haven't tried to be more attractive for him."

There certainly were. "...yes...there are..."

"Mhm? What are those things?"

She took a deep breath, remembering as some discomfort arose that this was a space where she could be completely honest. It was relaxing to tell the truth. "...anything...sexual..." Again, she was sure to remain a good mother for him. Nothing sexual.

He smiled back. "Such as?"

That crossed a line for her. Her soft, blissful expression became sterner. "...I don't want to talk about it." End of discussion, in her mind. She didn't want to explicitly discuss sexual acts with her son.

"Remember, Mom, being honest is relaxing. It's not relaxing to keep secrets. If you want to feel as happy and relaxed as you can, you should tell me the truth."

Well...if he said so. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to outline her boundaries. "...I wouldn't...show him my breasts..."

He nodded. "Why not?"

"...it would be wrong...he's my son..." She knew that for sure. Going that far was wrong.

"He's allowed to touch them, though."

"...massage...on clothes..." She clarified.

"But you know that massages are traditionally done with no clothes, correct?" He'd softened his voice. It sounded like silk pouring in her ear, like he was massaging her mind itself.

"...yes...but..." She couldn't come up with the right words.

He tested her on that. "But?"

Even after a pause, the correct thing to say simply didn't come to her mind. All she knew was that she wasn't comfortable being naked in front of her son. Her _mature_ son. "...it wouldn't be right..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your son touching your breasts and your butt is okay."

"...yes...on clothes..."

It seemed as though they were at an impasse. He fondled around her breast for a moment, both of them butting heads as they tried to get what they wanted. Feliciana wanted the relaxation her son had graciously offered her, and Grant obviously wanted to feel her up directly. He realized, though, that his advantage lied not in trying to overpower her, but instead sneakily maneuvering around her defenses until she was eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Would you sit on your son's lap?"

His mother was thrown off by the change in conversation, just as he had planned. "...no..." She didn't seem exceedingly sure.

"Hm? Why not?" He enjoyed toying with her defenses, sure he could make the same progress with Feliciana that he had with his sister. She was certainly more suggestible.

"...I...wouldn't want to..." She sank into his 'massage' as she responded.

In brainstorming how to get his brainwashing through her uncertainty, Grant recalled the three factors which make someone a good hypnotic subject. They'd been a key tenet of his research. The first is 'absorption,' how well the subject can get fully sucked into one activity. Feliciana could certainly get lost in a good book, and he'd used that by cutting off all stimuli but his words, and his hands.

The second is 'imaginative involvement,' typically defined as a tendency to act on instinct while lost in one's imagination. Feliciana had a regular routine, so sprinkling in some repetitive mantras made it that much easier for her to follow along with his commands. He introduced his desires into her instincts, her autopilot. He'd used both of these to his advantage quite well, and that was reflected in how her lips parted with a cute moan while he fondled her.

The third he'd neglected, though. The third is 'fantasy proneness': how well the subject can engage with something other than reality. Perhaps if he tried something like...

"Mom, I want you to imagine how it would feel to sit on my lap." A hypothetical.

"...mm..." She was hesitant at the idea, but he was quick to reassure her.

He softly pawed her breasts, cooing to her gently. "It's okay, Mom...there's nothing wrong with thinking about it, is there?"

That got her more on board. "...there's nothing wrong...with thinking..."

"Imagine I'm sitting on the couch. I look over to you, appreciating how attractive you look."

As he expected, she whimpered a little at his pandering. He continued undeterred.

"I tell you that I want you to sit on my lap, and in this hypothetical scenario, you do. This version of yourself doesn't think there's anything wrong with getting closer. You're facing towards me, that way you can see how I respond."

She nodded slightly, still whimpering at how effectively he massaged her breasts. "...I can see how you respond..."

"When you get situated, I tell you that you look great. You have all my attention since we're so close together."

"...I have all your attention..." She went starry-eyed at the prospect.

"I reach around your arms to massage you. It's incredibly relaxing, like always."

"...like always..."

"We don't even have to move. You can stay perched on my lap without a care in the world, because I'm very pleased with our arrangement, and so are you."

She blushed. "...we're pleased..."

"I tell you you're a good girl for sitting on my lap. Because you _are_ a good girl for doing as I asked."

A shudder went through her. "...I'm...good..." Stating it naturally meant she wouldn't see anything wrong with it. She was merely doing as he asked.

He smirked; his plan had worked out exactly as he'd hoped. "Now, Mom, would you like to sit on my lap?"

She nodded without a second thought. "...yes...I want to sit on your lap..."

"Go ahead and do that, Mom."

Sure enough, she slowly rose from the bed, away from her son's touch. She lingered there for a moment, lost in the warmth of trance, before turning around to face Grant. Her cheeks flushed as he stared at her breasts all the while. Finally, she sat on her son's lap, which necessitated that their faces be as close together as possible. Her legs went to the side of his, inadvertently setting her crotch against his. He could see the excitement in her eyes as he pulled her close with one hand and groped her with the other. Her skirt was silky and soft.

He grinned, lowering his voice to a whisper as she brought her arms around his back. "This feels great, doesn't it?"

It obviously did. "...feels great..."

"You're going to ask me to sit on my lap in the future, right, Mom?"

She clammed up at that, her face returning to a more neutral expression instead of the blissed-out ecstasy she'd kept with. This threw him off, pausing in his gropes for a moment. If it wasn't fully entrained into her, why had she been so in favor of it?

A gentle whine from her caused him to chuckle and reconnect his hands with her tits. "Why won't you ask to sit on my lap?"

She blushed a little. "...it would be embarrassing...you might say no..."

Well, then. That was an interesting angle. He was tempted to come out and say, 'I won't, you don't need to worry about that,' but he was all too aware that reassurance can ring hollow when someone's insecure. He had experience from when he was younger, from when he'd asked Feliciana if he was creepy for fantasizing about girls his age. She'd told him he wasn't, that it was normal, but he'd had a hard time believing her compliments. Especially because he had been fantasizing about her and Luna. He'd have to try something else.

"How about if I simply bring you on my lap? I wouldn't ask."

Her eyes lit up at that. "...that would be good..."

Another opportunity revealed. "How is that so different from asking you to?" He squeezed her tit in his hand, a skittish whimper exiting her lips.

"...I don't...have a choice there..."

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you prefer not having a choice?"

Her hesitance proved he wasn't exactly right, but at least she answered him this time. "...no...I don't want to worry...about what you'll say...I don't want you to think less of me..."

That wasn't something she had to trouble herself with, and he reassured her of that. "You don't have to worry. You only need to relax, with me."

She did, immediately. She let out with grateful sighs as they lingered together for a moment, Grant continuing to find new, increasingly sensitive parts of her breasts.

After some time, he offered a new compromise. "What if, the next time we're together, I tell you to sit on my lap. That way, you'll know that it's what I want. You don't have to be worried that I'll say no, or that I'll think you're asking for something weird. You only need to relax."

"...relax..." Her eyes lit up at the idea.

"You only need to concern yourself with feeling good. With feecaling pleasure."

"...pleasure..." She sank into his greedy hands more and more with each sentence.

"Sounds perfect, doesn't it, Mom?"

"...perfect..."

"You feel great when I tell you to do something, since you don't have to worry about what I'll say if you ask me."

"...I feel great..."

He slyly grinned. Soon, she'd be doing much more than sitting on his lap, and he'd be doing much more than commanding her to do so. Things were heating up perfectly. Time for the next step.

"Would you show me your breasts?"

"...no..." She was his mother, after all. Even if their relationship had become more intimate, and even if she felt pleasure from his gaze, and even if she would happily go into trance whenever he wanted, she wasn't going to do that. She wasn't going to do something sexual.

Especially not if it sounded that appealing.

She'd lose her poise, Feliciana reasoned. That wouldn't do in front of her son. All she had to do was voice that with what little of her mind could still think.

"Do you want your son to see your breasts?"

Well, no...right? She didn't want to do that? That sounded right. It would probably feel good, getting all of her son's attention, and love, but...no. She didn't. "...no..." Her tone still rose at the end, though. She was unable to hide her pensiveness.

Grant looked into her eyes, squeezing her bust in his hand. "It would get him to look at you, wouldn't it?"

It would, there was no denying that, but it wasn't worth the tradeoff. "...yes...but it would be sexual..." She was getting a bit worked up about this.