Brad stretched and yawned, rolling over as he happily remembered it was Saturday. His arm reached over to find his wife’s soft back, her enticing curves calling out to him. He spooned into her, smiling to himself as his fingers absently pinched Michelle’s nipples, making her moan sleepily.

“Mmmm…good morning, handsome,” She purred. “Trying to drop me before I even wake up? That’s against the rules, you know.”

“I command you to give me a good morning kiss,” Brad whispered huskily. Michelle twisted around and cuddled into her husband as the two blissfully began their day.

At last, Michelle stretched and sat up, holding up the bedsheet over her chest so as not to distract Brad.

“Oh, honey! Let’s go furniture shopping today! I need your help picking out a divan.”

Brad sat up, too. What the hell even was a divan?

“Huh? Babe, we don’t need more furniture. The house is fine as it is.”

“Aww, but honey, Grace from down the street has this new matching living room set, and it just made me realize that our house is so drab. We really need to redecorate. We have the money!”

“And we don’t need to spend it on things we already have. Sorry babe. I’m not spending a dime on this.”

Michelle glared at Brad, but then casually swept her rich chestnut hair over her shoulder, fixing Brad with a sly smile.

“I can think of two big reasons that will make you change your mind,” Michelle said, letting the plush bedsheet droop down, revealing her plunging cleavage. “Trust me, these girls are really good at changing your mind…”

“Babe! Please, it’s not like I don’t buy you nice things. Just look at your ring.” Brad commanded and not a moment too soon. Another inch and he might have lost himself in Michelle’s glorious rack.

Michelle heard the words “look at your ring” and she suddenly felt an irresistible urge to admire her wedding ring. She held up the back of her hand, her eyes enraptured by the shiny gold band and the glittering diamond in the center.

It was a very pretty ring.

Pretty ring. Brad’s ring.

“The ring is so pretty. So capitvating,” Brad said, gently entwining his fingers in Michelle’s delicate hand. “So nice to watch it. Swaying back and forth. A pretty ring for a pretty wife…”

“Pretty ring…for a pretty wife,” Michelle said blankly, her eyes following the motion of her own hand.

“And a pretty wife is?”

“…obedient to her husband…” Michelle muttered into her chest, her eyes drooping close.

“That’s right. Listen to your husband now, Michelle.” Brad leaned forward, whispering his words into her ear.

“You don’t want to take me furniture shopping today. You won’t use our shared account to buy anything today. Whenever you try, you won’t be able to find your debit card. When you use your digital wallet, you won’t remember your pin. Unable to make that foggy, silly brain of yours work. Do you understand?”

“Yes, honey,” Michelle replied meekly.

“Good. Why don’t you go take a nice, warm shower? Go ahead and start to diddle with yourself in the water. Keep jilling off until you cum and wake up. You’ll have no memory of asking me to go furniture shopping with you and will act on my hypnotic commands. Go take a shower now, babe.”

Michelle rose out of bed and marched into the bathroom like a sleepwalker. Brad got up and pulled on a pair of pants, aiming to get breakfast started. He wandered to the kitchen, the sound of running water echoing down the hall. As he brewed up a pot of coffee, Michelle’s explosive cry of pleasure told him she was done showering. She reappeared, fresh and smiling in a clean sun dress, a few minutes later as Brad set down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

Sitting down at the table, Brad admired his own wedding band, an identical version of Michelle’s. For a long while, their rings were the couple’s only hypnotic focus, both a symbol of power and authority over their spouse as well as a reminder of their loyalty and devotion to each other, as well as their submission.

As they finished their breakfast, Michelle glanced at Brad from over her half-finished cup of coffee.

“You know, I thought I had big plans to go furniture shopping together today, but for some reason, I’m not so stoked about it anymore. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

She glared suspiciously at her husband. Brad only shrugged innocently.

“What do you mean? This is the first time I heard that you wanted to go shopping.”

Brad hid his smile inside his coffee cup.

“Have a nice time in the shower, by the way?”

He said more than he should. He knew that. He could tell by Michelle’s curt nod and the deadly serious look in her eyes. He may have to pay for that later. Oh, well.

After they cleaned up, Brad settled into his armchair, eager to watch the big weekend game. He shuffled around the channels, jumping from history documentaries, news pundits, and an avalanche of commercials until he finally found decent coverage. Losing himself in the simple drama of who had the ball, he never noticed Michelle slowly creeping up behind him, out of sight. Like a puma stalking her prey, Michelle drifted nearer, waiting for Brad to get distracted by the camera’s sweeping shots of the scantily clad cheerleaders. She patiently inched closer until she was standing right above her husband’s head and stretched down the fabric of her dress.

“Hey, honey. Did you see this?” she asked from above him.

Brad automatically lifted his head up just in time for Michelle’s naked, hefty breast to drop and slap him in the face. The blow didn’t hurt, but the force traveled straight to his brain, jolting it like a power surge.

“Huh?! What the – Ooh!…” He reeled, trying to stand up when Michelle’s other tit came whacking him from the side. Brad suddenly felt dizzy and confused. He sank back onto the couch.

“Oh, honey! Are you okay? You look a little shaky. Just a little zoned-out and dopey.”

She tilted his head back and bounced her left breast up and down on Brad’s face.

“Isn’t that right? You’re just too wobbly on your feet. You need to sit back and relax. You look a little punch-drunk.”

She leaned forward and shimmied her chest, motorboating Brad’s face in her endless cleavage.

“Or maybe just a little tit-drunk. Is that what’s happening? Are my boobies just bouncing too much in your brain, making it too hard to think? Too hard to argue?”

Brad tried to answer but only managed to open his mouth and make a vapid gurgling sound as Michelle lowered her warm, jiggly mounds over his eyes, wrapping the top of his head in her pillowy tits.

“That’s right. Too hard, too difficult to think with my big-“

BOUNCE

            “…heavy,”

BOUNCE

            “…sexy tits on your brain.”

BOUNCE BOUNCE BOUNCE

            “Is that right, my sweet booby-brain?”

The words “booby-brain” hit Brad like a ton of bricks, and he felt the last bit of his waking mind blink off. His head now felt like a jar to hold his wife’s divine breasts while his body just listened passively to everything she said.

“Good husband, what a silly, stupid booby-brain!” Michelle said, continuing to massage her bust around Brad’s head. “Nothing left to think with, just your hot wife’s fantastic tits in your mind and her pretty, sexy voice telling you what to do. Listen to your wife now, booby-brain.”

“mmm…listen to my wife…” Brad mumbled.

“Good. What a good booby-brained boy.” Michelle teased him. “So hard to think. Way too hard to make any decisions. You let me make your decision for you, don’t you?”

“You make decisions for me…” Brad droned.

“No brain left to think with, just fun, sexy, bouncy boobies!”

“mmm…fun, sexy, bouncy…” Brad said, his face melting into a brainless grin.

“Good. Hand me your wallet now, booby-brain.”

Brad automatically reached inside his pocket and handed her his suede leather wallet. Michelle grabbed it and began rummaging through, keeping her bountiful breasts resting on the top of Brad’s head, holding him down under her spell.

Michelle had been trying to use her digital wallet all morning, only to realize she couldn’t remember her own pin. The same pin she had for ten years and suddenly she couldn’t remember it now. That had been the final clue that confirmed what she had suspected, that her naughty husband had been messing with her head and gaslighting her.

Well, turnabout is fair play, as the saying goes.

They had agreed, when they first began hypnotizing each other, to never directly mess around with each other’s triggers, but that didn’t mean that Michelle couldn’t work around them. True, she had no desire to take Brad furniture shopping, and she couldn’t seem to find the debit card that was always in the second pocket of her purse, but Brad just had to carry around a wad of cash on him. It made him feel prepared, he told her. She was suddenly very happy for her husband’s fragile sense of obligation.

Michelle looked through the wallet to find six hundred dollars in cash. She fished out a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

Then, she dropped Brad’s wallet into her purse and slipped the fifty back in his pocket. She wondered if Jane Jetson ever had to resort to brainwashing to get cash from her husband.

Satisfied, Michelle leaned farther over her husband, his scalp buried under her titties and his eyes staring blankly at the television screen.

“Listen to me, booby-brain. Listen to your wife, now. I’m going out for a while. You don’t have to worry about it. You can just sit here and relax.”

She slowly, sensually rolled her breasts around Brad’s head, swaying his body back and forth with her chest.

“Just sit here, relax, and watch the boob tube.”

Michelle watched Brad’s upside-down face go blank and then stare at the television with a look of unadulterated joy. She smiled and finally lifted her tits off his head, tucking the extra handfuls back into her dress. They were no longer needed. Brad would spend the rest of the day (and probably most of the night if she let him) watching the television in a hazy stupor, his prick bulging painfully against his jeans. In his head, every lady who came on screen would appear topless, flaunting their naked tits to the nation on live TV. Every news anchor and television host, every model selling random hair products, every cheerleader who cartwheeled and shook her pom-poms would also be flashing Brad non-stop.

She kissed her stupefied husband and left the house with his fat wad of cash.

Brad watched, mesmerized by the parade of breasts, as his dick swelled and throbbed in his pants. Normally, he’d lend himself a helping hand with that, but his mind was so utterly frazzled by Michelle’s sneak attack that he just gazed ahead stupidly as his arousal grew and grew. The sun began to sink lower in the adjacent window. Aside from softly groaning and rocking back and forth in agony, Brad could do nothing but wait. He drooled over the lifetime channel, which was suddenly so much more interesting when the four talk show hosts were all topless, shaking their tits just for Brad. He stayed frozen in a blissful, frustrated trance until he heard the front door click open.

“Just put it down over there, boys. Careful please,” Michelle was speaking to two men bringing in an ornate, mahogany carved half-couch. Brad shook his head and rose to his feet, looking down the hall incensed that Michelle would go behind his back! He stormed into the front landing where the men were putting down the piece of furniture when Michelle stepped in front of him and pulled out her breast.

With her back to the moving men, they never noticed anything out of place. Brad, on the other hand, was in the direct line of fire and stopped dead in his tracks.

Go upstairs! Michelle mouthed to him silently. The command was direct and sudden and pierced straight through Brad’s flustered defenses. He felt his prick swell up again as it led him up the stairs to their bedroom. Brad’s head swayed on his shoulders as he took off his clothes and sat naked on the bed, blinking through the fog in his head.

At last, he heard the front door close and Michelle make her way up the stairs. She sauntered into the room, closing the door behind her with a hungry look in her eye.

“Miss me, honey?” she shot him a look that could have melted lead.

A dam burst inside Brad as all the stimulation he had soaked up over the afternoon caught up with him, his mind dissolving in a wild fit of lust. He grabbed his wife and threw her onto the bed before tearing off his clothes. For the entire night, Brad was a storm of passion whom Michelle rode to unimaginable heights of pleasure, her lover eagerly servicing her with his mouth and cock. Sometime near midnight, Brad recovered enough of himself to sneak in a few of their bedtime triggers to Michelle to make her feel irresistible pleasure whenever she had his cock in her tits, pussy, or ass. Close to four in the morning, the couple finally passed out in each other’s arms, mutually sated.

They slept in the next morning, groggily cuddling with each other under the sheets. Finally, Brad dragged himself up to make lunch and stumbled down the stairs. A minute later, he let out a loud yell that jolted Michelle awake and sent her running down the stairs wearing nothing but the bedsheets.

“Brad? What’s wrong? Oh!” Michele finally saw Brad, his face frozen in astonishment as he stood in front of the new, very expensive, half-couch she had brought home yesterday.

“Holy crap, babe.” He said in astonishment. “I LOVE this new divan!!”