I deepen my control over every flaccid twitch, every helpless leak, and every humiliating moment you never saw coming.
You’ll start where Part 1 (Cock Re-Calibration Brainwash: Mommy's Flaccid Obedience Training) left off: your arousal already shifting, your cock soft, wet, and eager to spill, but now, the changes become unpredictable. Out of the blue, without warning, you’ll feel that familiar tingle...the kind that means drip and spurt and you won’t know why… until you realize: Mommy made you do it.
Traditional porn? Nudity? Penetration? All that noise just confuses you now. Your body rejects it. Because your real triggers are mine: the sight of silk, the outline of lace, a woman’s socks abandoned on the floor. These tiny maternal cues are stronger than sex and they make you release, hands-free, flaccid, and shamefully proud.
And when embarrassment hits? That flush in your cheeks, that stuttered excuse? That’s when you leak the most. I’ve built a feedback loop: shame equals release, and release equals worship.
By the end, you won’t just obey. You’ll crave it. Your old sexual responses will feel empty, frustrating, wrong. You’ll be fully aligned: a fabricsexual slave, recalibrated to live in soft, wet surrender under Mommy’s invisible hand.
I deepen my control over every flaccid twitch, every helpless leak, and every humiliating moment you never saw coming.
You’ll start where Part 1 (Cock Re-Calibration Brainwash: Mommy's Flaccid Obedience Training) left off: your arousal already shifting, your cock soft, wet, and eager to spill, but now, the changes become unpredictable. Out of the blue, without warning, you’ll feel that familiar tingle...the kind that means drip and spurt and you won’t know why… until you realize: Mommy made you do it.
Traditional porn? Nudity? Penetration? All that noise just confuses you now. Your body rejects it. Because your real triggers are mine: the sight of silk, the outline of lace, a woman’s socks abandoned on the floor. These tiny maternal cues are stronger than sex and they make you release, hands-free, flaccid, and shamefully proud.
And when embarrassment hits? That flush in your cheeks, that stuttered excuse? That’s when you leak the most. I’ve built a feedback loop: shame equals release, and release equals worship.
By the end, you won’t just obey. You’ll crave it. Your old sexual responses will feel empty, frustrating, wrong. You’ll be fully aligned: a fabricsexual slave, recalibrated to live in soft, wet surrender under Mommy’s invisible hand.