A Lewd Day in the Life of the Hypnotized Mom (1)
Side Story: Mom — I'm a housewife. My husband passed away long ago, and I've somehow managed to raise our two kids alone on the inheritance he left behind. It wasn't a massive fortune—just enough to scrape by until the kids became adults. I figured once they grew up and became independent, they'd support me, and my living expenses would be covered. Thankfully, my daughter developed smoothly and got into a top-tier university, so her future looked bright. My son, though... he was a bit worrying. He didn't even graduate from a decent high school, let alone have any useful skills or talents.
I believed our family could only rely on her. For our house to survive, my daughter had to succeed.
—That was how I used to think.
But about a year ago, my son somehow got his hands on this Hypnosis App, and I fell completely under its spell. He chose me as his first guinea pig because I seemed the easiest target—the one least likely to sue if caught. He ran all sorts of experiments on me. I don't remember much of what happened while hypnotized; my mind was too foggy. But that incident flipped my entire life and values upside down.
Now, I couldn't care less about my daughter. Sure, she's family in name only, but I feel nothing for her. Of course, this stems from my son's revenge—he manipulated my emotions because he resented how I favored her. As a result, I can't feel anything more than I would for a cockroach toward my daughter. Even strangers grow close after living together, but in my case, any budding affection for her triggers a brain program that wipes it away. That's the hypnosis I'm under. So right now, I harbor zero love for my daughter.
All my affection is laser-focused on my one son—to the point where even I think it's dangerously intense. Well, he's the greatest being in the world, so no woman could spend 24 hours a day with him and not fall head over heels. The entire world is under his hypnosis, after all. Rebelling against him is impossible.
Recently, my daughter dared to resist her brother and got harshly trained for it. Her despairing face was hilarious, hehe. A sow like her defying her Master? She deserved slaughter, but my son's mercy in forgiving her made me respect him even more deeply.
Yes, I'm just one woman—a mother—who worships her son.
My mornings start early. I wake up at 4 a.m. every day. It might seem too soon, but with a Master to serve, I can't afford to be lazy.
First thing upon waking, I pray.
"Thank you for allowing me to breathe today under my son's grace. As his mother and slave, I vow eternal loyalty and obedience until my dying day."
I finish my prayer and bow toward my son's room. It's the holy site we hypnotized devotees always cherish in our hearts. After paying respects, my chest fills with fulfillment, and any trace of sleepiness vanishes.
Forcing yourself to do hated chores is torture. But working for someone you truly, deeply love? That's an honor.
The Queen of England has maids who turn out to be high nobles. Why would nobles serve as maids? Because serving the Queen is a tremendous glory. I'm serving the god of this world—far greater than any queen. Far from drowsy, I feel superior.
"Haa~♡ My son's scent♡"
After prayers, I clean my son's room. Normally, I'd be careful not to wake him, but he stayed out tonight, so the room's empty. I run the vacuum.
Too noisy at 4 a.m.? Who cares, as long as it doesn't bother my son. Other people don't matter.
"Haa~♡ Just breathing in my son's room-scented air makes me so happy♡"
Others find cleaning a chore, but tidying my son's room is bliss. How joyful to maintain a holy site? It's like tasking an archaeologist: "You get to clean the pyramid—every nook and cranny." Under the guise of cleaning, it's permission to freely explore the pyramid.
My son's room is a treasure trove. His pillowcases, blankets, clothes, bookshelves, desk—all relics imprinted with his essence.
"I love you♡ I'll be loyal forever♡ Mwah mwah♡"
I even kiss the objects, reaffirming my love. Some might call my maternal instinct overkill, but I can't help it—I'm brainwashed to feel infinite love for him. I'd discard my life for my son without hesitation.
"Huu~♡ Stay in this room much longer, and my heart might burst♡"
After two hours of cleaning, I do the laundry. My son's underwear and such in the hamper? Treasures beyond measure.
"Mmm~~♡ Son's paaanties♡ Ah, this one's too fragrant to wash♡ I'll hide it in my room for masturbation sessions♡"
I sneakily embezzle the stinkiest ones. Hehe♡ My little secret from him.
"Hah♡ Hah♡ Just a quick masturbation♡ Plenty of time♡"
I strip naked and slip into my son's discarded T-shirt and pants. Wrapped in his clothes, indescribable ecstasy overwhelms me—I nearly climax from that alone. It feels like being embraced by him.
"Hey, Kim Hea-e!"
I pressed my hand to the full-length mirror in the bathroom and addressed my reflection—fantasizing it was my son, with me in his clothes.
"You, acting like a bitch in heat for your own son?"
I do this sometimes when he's away.
"Without me, you're a pathetic sow who can't do anything. A perverted bitch jerking off to her son's underwear. Who'd take in a freak like you? Only me."
I mouth the words I crave from him.
"From now on, live as a sow absolutely obedient only to me. Don't even glance at other men. I'll keep you forever—"
"What're you doing, Mom?"
"Kyaaah!!!"
No way. My daughter caught my private hobby.
It's early, but Jiwon stood there rubbing her eyes in front of the bathroom.
"Y-you're up already?"
"Your vacuum was so loud, it woke me. Yawwn~"
Oh, right. I didn't think of that. My daughter never even enters my mind. No interest.
Jiwon smirked mischievously, like she was teasing me.
"Anyway, Mom, why're you wearing bro's clothes? Did he allow it?"
"...It's none of your business!"
"It is~ As bro's slave, I have a duty to protect him. Gotta stop some pervert stealing his clothes~"
"You...!"
For a split second, I thought, Should I kill her? Cockroaches hiding in the walls? Fine. But caught in plain sight? You stomp them.
"Pfft. Why so serious? You know it's embarrassing, right?"
"...Wanna die?"
"Kek. Pot calling the kettle black, huh? Hilarious. Guess I'll call bro and tattle."
"I'll kill you, you bitch!!"
I have to kill her. This wretched girl must die. Nothing else filled my head.
A scolding from Master or killing my daughter? Obviously the latter. I can't bear his hatred even a little.
"I'll kill you!! Kill you!!!"
"This old hag, strangling me?! Where do you get off?!"
"Hmph! The Hypnosis App remodeled my body to early-20s prime! We're the same age physically, you slut!"
"Calling your daughter a slut?!"
"You're my daughter—so what!! Family to me is just one Master!"
"Same here, you unfit-mom pervert!! Without bro, you'd be gone long ago!"
"Dieee!!"
"You die!!"
From dawn, we clawed at each other's throats, spewing genuine hatred. It's shocking, really. I birthed Jiwon, rushed her to the hospital for every scrape when she was little—raised her devotedly. Growing Jiwon was my life's hope.
But now...
"You slut! Pig bitch! Horny-dog little sister in heat for bro!!"
I truly hate this woman. She seems like a devil trying to come between me and my precious son.
"You're the rag in heat for your son!! I woke early, was gonna jerk to bro's underwear, but had to watch your gross solo act—think of my side!"
"So you were gonna masturbate to Hoyoung's underwear too! No different from me!"
Jiwon feels no motherly love for me either. There's a reason for this. Long ago, we mother and daughter were thick as thieves—not mother-daughter, but friends sharing everything, traveling together. Meanwhile, we neglected my son. In a family of three, we two went out alone, isolating him. His revenge? We now adore him obsessively, but brainwashed never to love each other again—no more teaming up.
So now, even if Jiwon died, I wouldn't blink.
Problem is, she's on the track team—physically superior to me.
"Die!"
"Aaaak!!"
I took her kick and tumbled to the floor. It hurt.
"You fucking bitch, trying to kill me after your own fuckup?! Die! Die! Die!"
"Aaaaaah!!"
Jiwon kicked her own mom mercilessly—again and again. I endured thinking of my son, but realized she wouldn't care if I died. If I died, no more seeing him. That terrified me.
"Jiwon, please stop!"
"Stop?! You tried to kill me! Your eyes were serious!"
"But I'm still your mom!"
"So what, slut."
No use. Obviously—she wouldn't listen either if roles reversed.
"Time to settle the hierarchy for good so you never crawl back. Bro's number one in this house—obvious. Now, who's number two?"
No. I refuse submission to anyone but my son. But I can't win physically. As I pondered...
Our savior descended.
"Hey~ sows~ I'm home."
"Master's back!"
"Ah, bro!!"
We dropped the fight and sprinted to the entrance. No matter what—bathing, studying, masturbating—when son returns, greet at the door. House rule.
"Welcome home, my son."
"Welcome home, bro."
In the narrow entryway, we knelt and bowed deeply. He's superior; polite greetings are natural.
"Why're you out so late? Both of you, punishment."
"Sorry, my son!"
"Sorry, bro!"
The fang-baring fighters vanished. Only two obedient slaves remained, crushed under Hoyoung's feet—voiceless in submission.