GILF 2: Complex 

“Shirley,” he blushed as the incredibly buxom older woman walked across the garden and offered her hand. “Shirley Gladstone. I thought you deserved a name to go with these tits.”

She said it with a laugh, and as he stood there speechless in the backyard of the  ShortRent house he was staying in for the week, she brushed the long gray curl of hair back from her face, to fall down her back with her long black hair.

“I didn’t realize there was a renter here this week, or I never would have come out into the yard like this.” This being a black bra with a white pattern that looked something like snowflakes, plain black panties, pink slippers, sunglasses, a transparent, belted  robe that was open enough to show off a lot of her incredible breasts “But you get an eye full, and I get to be flattered by you taking that eyefull in.”

She put her other hand over his as he finally reached up to shake her hand, “What’s your name honey.”

He had been about to introduce himself, blushing and stammering as he was, when her warm, soft hands covered his, and her question caused him to forget what he was about to say, even though it was what she was asking him.

“I uh…”

“Relax honey, it’s okay. You can just relax,” she caressed his hand, ”and stare at my tits for as long as you want. It’s nice to be admired, so it’s nice of you to just stare…”

Her hands were so warm and soft, and her voice was so soothing and gentle, “And relax. Just stare and relax and let go of any of those nerves, any of that tension that’s telling you to be polite. Listen to me instead of that voice in your head, and just relax. You want to stare, and I want you to stare, so you should just keep staring…”

“Just let the warmth you’re feeling in your hand, my warmth, just flow up your arm and into your chest, as you just stare, and relaxed, and relax and breathe, and breathe and stare, and, stare, staring at my tits, only my tits, just my tits, forgetting everything else, feeling the rest of the world fade away as the warmth spreads up and your focus sinks down, all the way down, down between my breasts, down into my tits, seeing only my tits and hearing only my voice now. Only my tits, only my voice.”

He was doing what he was told, and he’d done it so smoothly, so quickly, and so easily that he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He didn’t see the sparkle of satisfaction in her blue eyes, both because they were covered by her sunglasses, but more so, because he was staring at this older woman, this much older woman’s massive tits and deep cleavage as she held his hand and poured her words into his open and welcoming mind.

“And the longer you stare, the less you think, and the less you think, the better you feel, so it just makes sense, to stare more and think less, feeling so good, and so aroused now, so aroused staring at my tits, my huge tits, my massive tits, and my deep cleavage. Staring at my tits and hearing only my voice, hearing only my words, because the longer you stare, the better you feel, and the better you feel, the harder you get, and the harder you get, the harder it gets to think, and thinking is so hard, but staring at my tits is so easy, and that means it’s easy not to think, but it’s hard to think, so I’ll think for you, and you’ll only hear my voice inside your head now, because those thoughts are my words, my words are you thoughts, and since I’m thinking for you, I think you should repeat after me, only your tits, only your voice. Do it now, say it now, okay?”

“Only your tits, only your voice.”

It felt odd to speak, and it felt strange to feel waves of relaxing, sexual pleasure wash through his body, making his cock stand firm in his shorts, while the volume of his own self-awareness kept getting turned down faster and faster the more aroused he became.

“Every time you say those words, you’re going to feel your pleasure double, and the better you feel, the less you think, so at first it will feel really good, but then, because it’s easier to feel than it is to think, and it’s easier to feel pleasure when I’m thinking for you, and I am thinking for you, mostly now, it’s going to be just a matter of time before it feels so good that you’re going to just cum your brains out right here, and when you do, you won’t even notice because your whole world is only my tits and only my voice. What’s your whole world now?”

“Only your tits, only your voice.”

“Oh that’s a good boy, that’s my good boy, and you want to be a good boy for me too, don’t you? You’ve always wanted to be a big boy for my big, soft boobies, because they make you feel like a horny, helpless little boy, and I’m already so much older than you, so much wiser than you, and so much smarter than you, that it really just makes you feel helpless and powerless. And that’s alright, because being a good boy means you are helpless and powerless to resist me, and you can;t resist me, that’s why your whole world is only my tits and only my voice. Now, be a good boy and tell me what your whole world is now, okay?”

“Only your tits, only your voice.”

“That’s it, that’s right, that;s my good boy, such a good boy for my big mature boobs that make you feel so weak and small. Such a good boy for my boobs that have you hypnotized now, hypnotized by my big heavy boobies like a horny little boy now. Totally hypnotized by my tits and my voice, and there’s no escape because you only see my tits, and only hear my voice. Your thoughts are my words, my words come from my voice, and the only words in your head now are only your tits, only your voice. Even as I tell you that I’m a hypnotist, and I’ve hypnotized you with my breasts, and your deep, submissive, subconscious desires that make you so pliable and suggestible when you see large breasts, especially, huge tits like mine, on a dominant, older woman, like me, all of those truths just slip into your subconscious, because I am thinking for you, my words are your thoughts, and the only think you’re thinking is…”

He stood there, eyes glassy and half closed, staring into her deep cleavage, his mind empty of any thoughts past staring at her breasts and listening to her words. He was wholly enthralled, so much so that he couldn’t bring himself to speak, to say the only words he could say, not until she gently whispered, “Answer me, what are you thinking about?”

“Only your tits, only your voice.”

“Good boy, now,” she cradled his head and pulled him to her tits, “cum down, all the way down, cum even deeper into my hypnotic control.”

Powerless.

He wasn’t even aware of the fact he was cumming in his shorts, gushing out an orgasm as this mysterious older woman pushed his face between her huge, heavy, warm, soft breasts, and stroked his head.

‘That’s it, cum it all out for me now, every last thought of your own that’s too hard to think, and every last drop of self-awareness that could turn into resistance. It’s too hard to think, that’s why you were too hard not to cum. Cumming is easy, because it feels good, just like obeying me is easy, because being hypnotized by my big, soft boobies makes you feel so good, so good to cum deeper under my hypnotic control, and any time you might think you’re thinking your own thoughts, you’ll just cum right back down between my boobs, unable to resist, unable to think, totally powerless and hypnotized into obedience, because it’s so natural for you to just obey me, just so natural to be hypnotized by my boobs because of your deep seated desire and need for a powerful dominant, mature, older woman with huge tits to take control.”

She cradled his head to her breasts and held him up as he moaned and whimpered with sexual pleasure, feeling the waves of the orgasm rolling through his body as he finished finishing, his hips bucking against nothing, his body in a waking wet dream.

“That’s right sweetie, my sweet boy, you can’t resist my huge boobies because they make your mind warm and soft, and make you feel weak, and innocent, and powerless and small, and that’s okay. It’s a complex you have, it’s something deep down inside you that all grown up boys like you have, and it’s natural, natural pt be hypnotized by big boobs, natural to be hypnotized by my big boobs especially, because my big boobs are especially hypnotic, and especially big. But everything’s so big when you feel so small, and drained, small, and drained, and weak and floppy, just like your cock, just like your little pee-pee. It’s getting too hard for you to stand up any longer, getting too hard to stand on your own feet, so you better come with me to my place and I’ll take care of you now.”

He followed her, dazed, disoriented, and overwhelmed, but after the very short walk from the garden, through her back door, and into her living room, he was becoming aware of himself again, and aware of the moment he was in.

“Shirley,” that was her name…

She had her back to him.

“Um, Ms. Gladstone? I…”

She turned around and took her sunglasses off, “Only my tits, only my voice. Say it.”

“Only your tits,” awareness faded at the edges, and he was staring at her huge breasts loaded in her bra as everything else faded and blurred. “Only your voice.” Just as her tits became his visual focus, her voice became the only sound, and he stood there.

Then, as she started to sway back and forth ever so gently, he started to sway with her, “That’s right, you can’t help it, you poor, weak baby, it’s a complex that all boys have,and you just have it extra bad for me and my extra big, extra hypnotic breasts. It’s something no man really wants to talk about, but as a skilled hypnotist with entreacing tits, it’s something I’ve always known, and always knew how to use. I can tell you all of this because consciously you’re only thinking about my tits, so consciously you’ll only remember that I have very nice breasts, and that's because my very nice breasts make you feel so good, and so nice, when you’re a nice, good boy who gets hypnotized by my breasts.”

She stopped swaying, and her robe slid off her shoulders, then her bra fell to the ground, and he stared at her full, very full, heavy breasts. 

“And it feels so nice to be my good boy, and it feels so good being a good boy for me.” She started playing with her tits, and he stared, slack jawed, eyes glassy, at the beautiful, hypnotizing sight of her tits spilled between her fingers.

“Now just be my good boy and remember, you only see my breasts and you only hear my voice. You only see my breasts in front of you, my hypnotizing breasts that are putting you deeper and deeper into hypnotized sleep with your eyes open, deep sleep with your eyes open so you can see my breasts, only my breasts, and hear my voice only my voice, without remembering any of the words I speak, words that become your thoughts, as you come closer and closer as you watch my breasts hypnotize you over and over, bringing you closer and closer to cumming again. And you will cum for me again, because the harder it is to think, the harder your cock gets, and the harder it is to think, the easier it is for you to feel, and soon, very soon, you will feel yourself cumming again, because you’re my good boy, your a good boy for my big boobies, and good, sweet, powerless little boy for my big boobies.”

He took a breath and felt his body shudder with arousal and felt the heat flowing back down between his legs as he stared, the words good boy feeling like she was pressing a pleasure button in his brain.

“And you’re going to cum for me again, and again, and again, because of the same reason I keep telling you that you’re hypnotized, deeply hypnotized by my big, hypnotic boobs, because as a trained hypnotherapist and mental health professional I can tell you that repetition is the cornerstone of effective hypnosis, but you don’t mind me repeating, you like it, because when I talk, you listen, and when you listen, you’re a good boy, because when I talk, I expect you to listen and do what you’re told, and listening is doing what you’re told, and that makes you a very good, weak, powerless, hypnotized little boy for my big, beautiful, beautifully huge and hypnotic breasts, breasts that active the same complex all grown up little boys like you have, the same complex that makes you so easily hypnotized by my breasts, makes it so easy for my breasts to hypnotically activate and reinforce, until you’re cumming your brains out for me the next time I say…”

It hadn’t taken very long. He was young and vital, his refractory period was low, and Shirely was relentless.

“Good,” he was panting as a bolt of desperate, sexual compliance shot through him, hijacking his mind and body. “Boy.”

He came in his shorts again, or at least that was what it felt like. It was not a physical release, not wholly and fully, but it was enough to make his knees go weak. 

Or weaker.

The phantom climax, with touches of a feeble, squirting, ruined orgasm felt whole and real in his mind, and he was still erect  

“‘That’s it, that’s my good boy. See how weak and powerless your complex makes you when you’re face to boobs with my hypnotizing tits. See how powerless and small you are when a dominant, authoritative, experienced, older woman with huge tits tells you what to do. It’s natural and automatic for you to become instantly and deeply hypnotized by my breasts and boy my voice, that’s why there is only my tits and only my voice. Only my tits and only my voice exist in your conscious mind and in your conscious memory, and the more you accept and obey, forgetting everything consciously that you remember subconsciously, the better it feels to be my…”

He felt the anticipation, the build up for another climax, another orgasm, be it wet, or mental.

“Look at me, look at my breasts, see only my breasts,” the wave passed and he looked up at her from his knees. “Follow my tits. Feel their pull on you, feel your need to suck on them, my weak little boy, feel your need to suck on my big, full boobies, my powerless, grown boy, you can’t resist, you can’t stop it, it’s too deep inside you, feel your mouth  being drawn to them now.”

She started walking backwards, and he crawled after her, the need for forward motion overriding the simple and practical concept of standing and walking, but he didn’t have far to go. She sat down on the couch and traced one finger around her nipple.

“That’s right, follow the finger around and round, more and more hypnotized by my boob, staring at the nipple like it;s the center of a big hypnotizing spiral, pulling you in, pulling you deeper, and you’ll go so much deeper into hypnotized sleep when you suck on my nipple and surrender to your complex.”

He was moving his mouth toward her breast as she gently pulled him in close and let him start to suck.

“Good boy, it’s time to surrender to your complex and accept that you just can’t manage your natural, irresistible, psychosexual complex. Be my good boy and surrender to it. Be my good boy and lose yourself, lose your identity, lose the feeble structures of your ego that can’t resist my hypnotizing breasts.”

He came.

Fully and completely and his mind and body deflated as he did, and she pulled him closer, guiding him onto the couch, then straddling him and holding him down as she put her nipple back in his mouth.

He sucked and whimpered as a wave of ego death radiated from his sexual core to the edges of his personality.

“You can’t resist me, you can’t resist this, and you cannot recover from this change. I am a hypnotherapist, this is what I do, this is how I help my clients like you, my patients like you, my subjects like you. You are my subject, my hypnotized subject, and your conscious mind is lost, seeing only my tits and hearing only my voice. My words, the words that are changing you, are changing you on a subconscious level, a part of your mind, a part of yourself, that you have no control over, but I do. I have control over your subconscious, because it hears, agrees, and obeys everything my hypnotizing tits tell it to. It agrees, because I am right, it obeys, because it does not choose, and that means you agree, and you do not choose.” 

She pulled his face into her cleavage, giving her nipples a rest from his vigorous, compulsive sucking. 

“And of course you don’t choose, because you’re powerless in the face of your complex, you’re powerless when your face is smooshed right up into your complex. All you can do is collapse the false structures of self you’ve built. All you can do is surrender the ideas you use to define yourself, and recognize that at your core, at the very center of what you are, you’re just a weak little gown boy,, someone who thinks he’s a man, but who is really just a slave to his desires, a slave to his complex, a slave to my hypnotizing tits, and all huge tits. Now be a good boy, and feel the truth of those words, and stand up.”

He quivered as she crossed his psychosexual wires with those two simple words, and once again ignited his arousal… not that it had ever disengaged.

“That’s right, stand up, now strip naked, and then sit on the couch.”

He obeyed as though the motions were his idea in the first place, and they may as well have been.

It wasn’t always this easy, but Shirley had been practicing, and more so, she had been developing profiles for identifying the most potentially vulnerable subjects. This one, his anime didn;t matter, not really, was as by the  numbers as they came, and he was easy to put into this position. She ran the short term rental, and the connections Brookridge had made it easy to move new patients into position to be converted.

Before her stay at the institution Shirley Gladstone did her best to live a life of compassion, care, and help. Her understanding of hypnosis as a target tool for certain kinds of healing was second to none. She understood how to change her modality, her approach, and her energy, to reach her clients, and how to, when needed, to leverage parts of herself to bridge the gaps and make meaningful, healing connections.

Now, now she was still trying to heal her patients, but the women at Brookridge had changed her mind about what needed changing and healing.

She slid down on this one’s cock, her pussy, warm, slick, and ready, “Only my tits, only my voice.”

She gasped out the words as she rolled her hips and ground herself onto him.

Shirley knew she was just one woman, just one person, and the best way she could help her patients was to break them down, to break them sexually, to unlock their deepest capacity for change. The women at Brookeridge would put this one back together again in a way she couldn’t. They would work as a team to heal him, remake him, and reprogram his inner self to be whole and healed, well heeled and on his knees in service to them.

That wasn’t her job.

No, her job was to reveal their innermost problems to them, to show them the thing they were denying about themselves.

Up and down she rode him, telling him over and over again all of the things she’d been saying. Telling him over and over again that he was succumbing to the psychological pressure of his complex. Telling him over and over again, that his mind was breaking down, that he was hollowed out by his complex, and that he was powerless to stop what was happening.

Eventually, the last piece of his psychic resolve snapped, and she saw it in his eyes.

“Good boy.”

When she felt the gush of cum inside her, she whispered in his ear that she would take him somewhere where he could get help.

The ones that went to the Brookridge Mental Institution voluntarily had different profiles, they took more work, and more time. They brought in money and training opportunities. 

The ones she and others like her ‘recruited’, were different. They were pawns and drones, they were a case of volume and opportunity, and as close to free money as it got.

But to Shirley, they were simply lost little boys who needed their egos stripped away, and the inner selves reprogrammed.

Those thoughts came to her as she stood up off of her latest subject, and as she looked down at him, another name, another face she wouldn’t remember, she felt something inside her start to give.

People were people.

This young man was a person, a real person, a distinct person with his own history, his own story. He wasn’t an archetype, or a…

Shirely felt her hands move to her nipples and she started to pinch them then fondler her breasts. Her hands moved on their own and her own arousal was re-ignited. She looked down at him, and didn’t see a person anymore, not an individual, no, she saw someone only she could help make whole.

His cock was limp and over-sensitive, but it didn;t matter, she took him in her mouth to taste herself on him, and to clean it off. Up and down her head bobbed, but he was too spent to get hard again.

It didn’t matter, grown up little boys like him would always get hard again when they got to suck on her big, hypnotizing tits. They were all subconsciously programmed by tits, and that deep, honest, nurturing programming was in conflict with who they thought they were supposed to be.

That was their real complex, the identities and structures they built for themselves.

What Shirley did, what she re-connected them to was just what they were supposed to be.

After a little bit of time stroking his cock and sucking it, going back and forth from one to the other, his eyes opened and she saw him trying to speak, trying to ask her to stop, or trying to assert some sense of identity and self. It was all the same, they were all the same, she’d seen it all before.

“Only your tits,” he mumbled the words as she moved between his legs and slid his cock between her breasts. “Only your voice.”

“Good boy.”

He seized in an ecstatic shudder, his breath, voice and body racked with euphoria, but he was wholly empty and broken. He slumped back down, and she kept tit fucking him and repeating everything to him to make sure he would go where he needed to go, and become what he needed to be.

She kept repeating these things to him over and over again until her own mind was quiet, until there was only her tits, and only her voice.