﻿Limits

by Pan



Genre: Mind Control
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12 06:29:25
Updated: 2020-06-20 21:34:44
Packaged: 2024-02-16 20:02:07
Rating: Some Sex
Chapters: 35
Words: 112,944
Publisher: storiesonline.net
Story URL: https://storiesonline.net/s/72610/limits
Author URL: https://storiesonline.net/a/pan
Summary: After hypnotising my sister Lucy, I was disappointed to discover that it wasn't the magic control button I'd been looking for. No, the trick is finding people's limits, what they will and won't do...and then seeing if you can move those limits.





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35



	Chapter 1

Session 22:

"Yes," my sister said. "I'll let you cum on my tits."

Everything about the situation was turning me on at that moment, but nothing as much as the confession she'd just made. Her eyes were blank, her voice was a dull monotone, and she was sitting in front of me, completely under my control...

Well, not entirely. It's true what they say - hypnosis isn't just a magic button that makes people do exactly what you ask. While they're under, you can't make people do anything they wouldn't normally do - something I'd discovered a few weeks ago, the first time I'd hypnotized Lucy.

Session 1:

"Take your top off," I said, and she'd instantly snapped out of it. Fortunately for me, Lucy couldn't remember what we'd been talking about - as far as she was concerned, I'd meant for her to wake up at that moment.

"Thanks for that," she said with a smile, not seeming to notice the terrified look on my face. I immediately found myself smiling back, trying to look as innocent as possible. "You're right; that's really relaxing."

I'd watched her carefully for the next few days (well, more carefully than I normally watched her) and once I was sure that she wasn't acting strangely, I asked her if she wanted to go again.

It wasn't hard after that to make it a regular thing - two or three times a week, I'd put her under. She said it was really relaxing, and genuinely seemed to have no idea what I was up to, no memories of the kind of thing we talked about while she was hypnotized.

Hypnosis, as I said, can't be used to make people do anything that they don't want to do. The classic workaround is making the person think that they're alone and getting ready for a shower or something, but that doesn't work either. When someone is hypnotized, you can't make people do anything they don't want to do, and you can't make them think anything they wouldn't realistically think.

If they wouldn't take their top off while you're staring at them, telling them you're not there won't work - I could probably have gotten Lucy to take her clothes off ... by being in the next room, shouting commands through the wall, but what's the fun in that?

(also, if I did anything that made her wake up, I can't see her ignoring being completely nude in the same was that she'd ignored my startled expression.)

The first step is finding people's limits - everyone has different limits. My sister's, for example, are completely different to Mom's.

The second step is, bit by bit, moving those limits.

If you're patient, if you're careful, you can eventually talk almost anyone into anything. There are some limits that will never change, but as a rule, people aren't hard-wired. I used to think that I'd never do anything more than fantasize about my sister, but when the right circumstances came along, here I was, putting her under and doing all that I could to manipulate her mind.

After a while, I didn't even feel guilty about it any more.

Session 6:

"Will you tell me what your PIN is?" I'd asked. Not because I actually wanted to know, of course - I was just getting frustrated, and trying anything I could think of.

If I'd just said "tell me your PIN", she would have woken up. But I'd discovered that asking in the abstract made her see it as less invasive - she could answer whether or not she'd answer before she answered, if you know what I mean.

"No," replied flatly. I wasn't surprised - most questions I asked led straight to dead-ends, unless it was information that she'd freely offer while she was awake.

"Okay," I said, the gears in my mind slowly turning. "What if it was an emergency? Like ... what if you'd left your wallet in my bag, and you wanted me to get a dress for you?"

There was a pause as she thought, which I saw as a good sign.

"The dress is on sale," I added after a few seconds. The more detail I gave her, the more vivid the picture in her mind, and the more likely she was to go along with my hypotheticals. "And it's the last one."

"Yeah..." she eventually said. "I guess I'd give it to you then."

"So will you give me your PIN?"

"Yes," she replied, just as confident as she'd been when she said "no" earlier.

I tried not to keep her under for more than half an hour - I didn't want her wondering about the specifics of what happened while she was hypnotized, and since we were getting close to the half-hour mark now, I decided to take a risk. At worst, she woke up. At best...

Well, I didn't even want to think about what "at best" led to.

"What's your PIN?" I asked, and without a moment's hesitation she told me.

The last few weeks had simultaneously been the most fascinating and the most frustrating of my life, but suddenly I had hope - I was getting closer. I don't know why it worked and I don't know how it worked, but for some reason if there was a situation - any situation - where she'd agree to do something, she would have no problem doing it while she was under.

I know it's wrong, but for as long as I can remember, I've had the hots for my sister and my mother. Ever since I first learned about masturbation, it's been them that I've fantasised about - for the past five years, they've been running around my head, performing the most perverse acts on and with each other.

That's what led me to hypnosis in the first place - on a whim, I'd googled "incest" one day, and past the technical definitions and the abuse forums, I'd found a world of people just like me, people who lust after family members.

And, best of all, I'd discovered a site for people who wanted to act on it.

There's another example of limits changing over time. When I first started jerking off, I felt overwhelmingly guilty about it - I tried abstaining, I tried thinking about other people, other scenarios ... but no matter what I did, it all came back to the only two family members I have. Over time, the guilt slowly disappeared, until I didn't even think twice about it. Masturbation was picturing mom and sis wrapped around my cock, that's just the way it was.

Similarly, when I first found a site that claimed to teach you how to hypnotise your own family into sleeping with you, I was horrified. Incredibly turned on, of course, but horrified.

Over the months, however, I found myself clicking back to it over and over again. It went from something that disgusted me to something that fascinated me, until finally, it became something that I knew I could do. Something I knew that I **had** to do.

And so I'd asked my sister if she minded me practicing some relaxation techniques on her, and it began.

I'm sure you can imagine - one of the people I'd been jerking off over my entire life, sitting in front of me her face completely blank ... it was no wonder that first time I got greedy. Asking for nudity too early ... what an amateur mistake.

But I got better quickly.

Session 9:

"I tell you that I think Mom is kind of hot. How do you react?"

"I'd be really freaked out. Incest is gross."

Good to know.

Session 10:

"Would you ever go to a nude beach?"

"No," she'd answered, without a moment of hesitation.

"What about a topless beach? Would you go to a topless beach?"

"Yes," she said - better, but not good enough.

"Would you go to a topless beach ... with me?"

A longer pause, but the answer I expected. "No."

I wasn't quite there, but I'd found an in. That was all I needed.

"Okay..." I began. I was starting to get good at this. "Let's say you've won the lottery. Twelve million dollars. You decide to take me and Mom to Europe. We're staying in a five-star hotel in France - it's on the beach, and after a nice long sleep, we wake up and decide to go for a stroll. It's a gorgeous day, and after a few miles, we notice some other people.

"They're all topless. It's a topless beach. We didn't mean to go to a topless beach, but we're there now - you're on top of the world, you want to fit in. Do you take your top off in front of your brother?"

"No."

I'd somehow stopped seeing the short monotone of her refusal as frustrating. It had instead become a challenge.

Everyone has limits, myself included. Ever since I'd discovered how easily they could be changed, I'd tried to be more aware of my own, more aware of what I thought was okay.

It would have been easy to give a situation where Mom is being held hostage, or there's a man with a knife to her throat or something. I doubt that she'd refuse to get topless with her life on the line ... but that was the limit I'd given myself, I wasn't going to force her into anything.

I wanted her to _want_ to be topless in front of me. And so I tried again.

"Okay. What about this - I win tickets to the premiere of Pirates of the Caribbean 5, and I take you with me. We run into Johnny Depp, and he invites us to a party as his place. I ask you not to tell him that you're my sister, because I don't want to sound like a loser..."

After a brief pause, she gave me a slight nod and I continued. The hypotheticals didn't work if it included anything unrealistic, or out of character. "You are suddenly really attracted to me." "A spell has been cast on you and you're really horny." "Mom says incest is great and you believe her." These not only wouldn't work, but would probably wake her up.

"So we go to Johnny Depp's and it's just you, me and him in the hot tub. He's really into you..." another brief nod - I'd have laughed at my sister's ego if she wasn't hot enough for it to make sense - " ... and he asks if we're exclusive.

"Rather than admit that we lied, we sort of tell him that we aren't..." - a longer pause this time, but finally she agrees. Lucy _really_ likes Johnny Depp. " ... and he takes his top off and asks you if you're cool enough to do the same."

There was a long silence. I'd learned that these pauses meant that she was on the cusp, and a few details could push her one way or the other, so I tried to appeal to my sister's generous nature.

"Also, there's a hot chick there who's been checking me out. If you go off with Johnny Depp, I'll probably have a chance, 'cos she won't think that I'm cheating on you."

My sister's brow furrowed, and I continued to stare into her eyes. If this didn't work, I didn't know what would.

"We haven't been drinking," I added, after another few seconds of silence. Another limit I'd set for myself. "And the chick is into me because ... she really likes Battlestar Galactica."

Perhaps it was the blood leaving my head as I waited for Lucy's answer, but I couldn't think of anything else to add. And so we sat there for close to five minutes, staring at each other, breathing each other's air.

I tried to maintain eye contact, but I couldn't help but glance at my sister's chest. I don't know anything about bra sizes, but I know that Lucy's pretty well-endowed. She definitely gets it from Mom.

Her next words, I knew, would determine whether I actually got to see those chest-puppies, or whether I was destined to a lifetime of just picturing them in my head. If this didn't work, I'd have to hire a writer or something, because I'd definitely reached the limits of my own imagination.

Finally, she stirred, and I sat forward in anticipation.

" ... yes." she said, and I almost fell off my chair in excitement. Checking the clock, I realized that I only had a few minutes, and I didn't want to waste any of them.

"Take off your top," I said, and she woke up.

Session 4:

"Tell me about your first kiss."

"I was nine years old. It was with Julian Dawes, during a game of kiss and catch."

"Tell me about the first time you made out with a boy."

"I was fifteen. It was with a boy named Paul - I don't know his last name - in a closet at a party. We were playing seven minutes of heaven."

"Tell me about the first time you had sex."

"Wow! Thanks so much for that, Jack; I feel much better."

Session 7:

"Would you talk to me about sex?"

"No."

"Would you talk to me about masturbation?"

" ... yes."

I'd been expecting a no to that, so as you can imagine, I was pretty intrigued. I was almost tempted to ask her about masturbation while she was awake, but without knowing the conditions, I didn't want to risk freaking her out.

"In what circumstances would you talk to me about masturbation?"

"If we were staying in a trailer park, and agreed to leave each other alone for a while. Or if there was some kind of medical issue."

I didn't quite understand what she meant by that last bit, but the first scenario was too exciting for me to dwell on it too much. Last year we'd gone on a vacation down to Florida, to visit Mom's parents, and the three of us had shared a caravan.

I guess she'd found it as frustrating as I had. No matter how quietly you jerk off, when your family is just a few feet away, there's no chance of them not noticing.

To think, all I'd had to do was mention it ... probably too late to bring it up now, so I took advantage of the implicit permission she'd just given me, and asked a few questions.

"How often do you masturbate?"

"Three or four times a week."

"What do you think ab... -" I caught myself just in time. "Would you talk about what you think about with me?"

"No."

Figures.

"When did you last masturbate?"

"Last night."

I could have talked about this for hours, but decided to take a different tack.

"Hypothetical for you - we're playing truth or dare at a party. There are other people around, including Harry from down the street." I knew she had a thing for him. "I've just licked the bottom of a shoe." Not unbelievable. "Harry asks you to tell us a story about your sex life. Even though I'm there, do you do it?"

"Yes," she said, barely pausing at all.

I was more careful back then, more worried that if I woke her up, she'd remember everything.

"Would you talk to me about your sex life?"

"Yes," she said, and my smile fell when she added "if there were other people there."

I spent far too many of my precious minutes thinking before finally coming up with a plan.

"After you tell the story about your sex life, someone dares me to do the same. I tell a detailed story about Mom almost catching me masturbating. A few days later, you and me are hanging out, just the two of us, and you ask how much of the story was true."

Another pause. Another nod.

"I tell you all of it, and ask how much of your story is true. Do you tell me?"

" ... yes."

"I tell you another funny sex story. There are lots of details. How do you react?"

"I guess that's okay..."

"We start talking about sex more often, like friends do." Nod. "I tell you about girls I like and why I like them." Nod. "Would you talk to me about sex?"

"Sure," she said after a brief pause. "But, like, not everything. No ... details."

That threw me for a second, until I remembered that (unlike me) Lucy didn't do senior English.

"Details make stories better. The more details, the better the story. Sex stories especially need details because sex is all about the senses. I learned this in class. Do you want to be a good storyteller?"

"Yes."

"Even when we talk about sex?"

"Yes..."

"Would you talk with me about sex, and use lots of details?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about the last time you had sex."

"Well," she said, her voice still a monotone. "Do you remember that guy with the tattoo who came around once? It was the 23rd of July, the weather was really warm, and the two of us were in my room. I was wearing a yellow skirt with that white button-up top, and he was wearing some black jeans and a black T-shirt with a flaming car on it..."

Session 11:

It was a week after I'd asked her to take her top off and, for the second time, had her wake up in response. My mistake had been obvious to me the second she'd woken up - I'd been so close that I wasn't thinking straight, hadn't applied the lesson I'd learned from our seventh session - just because she'll do something when other people are around doesn't mean she'll do it when we're alone.

"Same situation as last time," I said. "Pirates premiere, Johnny Depp, hot tub, hot chick ... would you take your top off?"

"Yes," she said.

"Would you take off your top if Johnny Depp wasn't there?" I asked, just to confirm that my troubleshooting was correct.

"No," she said. "Of course not."

"So hypothetical - I've just seen you topless in the hot tub, and then when we get home I tell you that I'm worried I saw a lump."

She nodded. It wasn't impossible - I'd spent a while working out a believable reason for her to show me her tits.

Once I could get Lucy to agree to something in a hypothetical, it was like it was fact, like the circumstances had actually happened. We hadn't been in Johnny Depp's hot-tub, just like we hadn't played truth or dare with Harry from down the road and then started talking about sex like we were close friends friends, but once it "happened" in her mind, once she admitted that it was hypothetically possible, we were open for business.

I was about to see how far I could push that.

"Do you let me see you topless then?"

"No," she said. "I go see a doctor."

"When we get home, there's a blizzard." Nod. We haven't had one for decades, but everyone in town tells stories about the last one. "We're snowed in, and you can't access a doctor. Do you let me see you topless then?"

"No. I ask Mom."

"What if Mom's not with us?"

"I feel for lumps myself."

"What if you can't see any?"

"I wait until the blizzard clears. Until I see a doctor, I can't do anything anyway."

I could have probably continued down that path until I'd hypothetically killed off everyone in the human race and given myself a medical degree, but it was already making me uncomfortable. I was too close to my own limits - I wanted her to want it, not scare her into it. I considered abandoning the whole line of thinking, but I knew I was getting close.

I could feel it.

Session 8:

"Would you tell me what kind of thing gets you sexually excited?"

"No," Lucy said, after a few seconds of thought.

"Not your fantasies," I clarified. "Other than your fantasies, would you tell me what kind of thing gets you sexually excited?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, before I realized my phrasing.

" ... tell me what kind of thing gets you excited."

"Being touched by a boy that I like. Watching porn. Reading porn. Talking about sex. Playing with myself. When a hot guy won't stop checking me out."

"Wait, you get excited talking about sex?"

"Yes."

"What about when you're talking about sex with me?"

"Yeah. I guess."

"Do I turn you on?"

"No." No hesitation there.

"Did you get excited after you told me the story of you and the guy with the tattoo?"

"Yes."

"Did you masturbate?"

"Yes."

I was floored. After she'd told me about the sweaty fuck she'd had with tattoo-guy (in explicit detail) I'd gone back to my room and jerked off a few times - it had never even occurred to me that she would have done the same.

God, I would love to have seen it.

Session 11:

We were approaching the end of the half-hour, and the only line of questioning I'd prepared was the blizzard story. But after five minutes of thought, I'd come up with a new idea.

"Okay. So you and Johnny Depp are dating now. He knows that we're brother and sister, but he thinks of me as his best friend..." Shake. I love my sister, but sometimes she can be a real bitch. " ... okay, so he likes you so much that he treats me and Mom like family." Nod. Really, Lucy? I suppose I shouldn't complain - it was getting me closer to where I needed to be, after all.

"He pays for the four of us to go to that hotel in France, the one near the topless beach. We spend a lot of time down there, and Johnny Depp wants to see your boobs as often as possible." There was a pause, and then a nod. I worry about my sister's ego sometimes. "We're hanging out on the beach. There are heaps of topless women around, and Johnny Depp keeps checking them out. I'm there. Do you take your top off?"

"Yes."

"Do you take your top off in front of me?"

"Yes."

"We stay there for ages, and it turns out that it's a topless hotel as well." Shake. Yeah, I guess that one was a bit far-fetched.

"Okay, we're on the beach. You're topless, and ... some guy points at your boobs and starts laughing."

There's a long pause, and I wonder if she's going to wake up. Finally, there's a nod - I guess that if there's one thing you can count on, it's girls with low self-esteem. Even the ones who _know_ they're hot.

"Johnny Depp and Mom both tell you that your boobs are fine. We go back to the hotel, and you decide that you want my objective opinion. You invite me into your room." Shake. Crap. "You come into my room." Shake. "I'm watching TV in the lounge room and you join me." Nod. Third time lucky, I guess. I make a mental note that she's more comfortable on neutral ground. Less intimate, I guess.

I could practically taste the tension. I knew I was as close as I'd ever get. This was it - this was make or break time.

"You ask me if I think you're hot." Nod. "I tell you that you're my sister and I don't look at you like that." Nod. I felt a twang of guilt at that. Poor naive Lucy.

"It's dark, and the only light in the room is from the TV. Johnny Depp and Mom are asleep. You feel like crap because of the guy, and you know that this will help...

"You ask me if there's anything wrong with your tits."

Nod.

"I tell you that they're fine, and that you shouldn't worry. You don't believe me."

Nod.

"You ask ... you ask if I'll have a look at them."

Nod.

"Would you show me your tits?"

"Yes," Lucy said, her voice no higher than a whisper.

"I tell you that I can't see them because it's so dark and that your shirt is blocking the view, but that they're probably fine and that you should leave me alone."

Nod.

"Would you take off your top with the light on, alone with me in the room?"

"Yes," Lucy said again. My heart was beating so hard that I could barely hear her.

"Say it," I said, needing that final confirmation.

"Yes," she repeated. "I'll take my top off in front of you."

"Lucy," I said, and she nodded in response. "Take off your top."


	Chapter 2

"Yes," my mother said, in that blank monotone I've grown to love so much. "I think it's good for you and your sister to spend more time together."

"And?" I prompted.

"And when you're alone, I will make sure you aren't interrupted."

Session 11:

I'm not going to lie; watching my sister's tits come into view was pretty much the greatest moment of my life. I remember every moment, in great detail: she was wearing a red sweater, one of those ones that are a little bit stretchy. That's always been one of my favourite tops of hers, probably because it really shows off her tits.

Seriously, I know it's wrong (though the fact that it's wrong is sort of what turns me on about it) but if you had a sister like mine, you'd find yourself wanting her as well. I don't know anything about cup sizes, but in my mind she's a double-H, with "H" standing for "huge".

She reached down, crossing her arms, and dragged the sweater up across her skin, agonizingly slowly (or maybe it just felt like that because of how desperate I was to see them)—the white shirt thing she was wearing underneath got lifted up as well for a second, showing her gorgeous stomach, and before the sweater was lifted past her tits it fell back into place.

The sweater caught for a second on her breasts too, and they too were lifted slightly, bouncing beautifully when they came free of the sweater. I feel like I should have been worried about the fact that while the sweater was being lifted past her face, it was the longest she'd stayed hypnotized without direct eye-contact, but at that point all I was thinking about was the twin orbs in front of me that I was finally, finally going to get to see.

My mouth was practically watering.

Once the sweater was past her head, her arms came back down, and her silky white shirt-thing was lifted up in the same way. I've seen my sister in bikinis before, so I guess technically I wasn't seeing anything new, but the fact that it was just me and her in the room, and that she was stripping just for _me_ ... it made it more intimate, and about twenty times more hot.

(and as I've mentioned, my sister in a bikini is already one of the sexiest sights I can imagine.)

Finally, she reached around her own back, her face still holding that same blank stare that she always has when she's under, unclipped her bra, and let it all hang loose.

They were everything I'd hoped for—she had two large, pink, rosy nipples, and as I stared at them, they grew slightly hard.

It was probably the air-conditioning, I told myself. The room was slightly chilly...

I try to limit our hypnosis sessions to no more than thirty minutes, but today, we went way over that. Aside from checking every minute or two to make sure that she was still under, I spent a huge amount of time just staring at my sister's magnificent boobs. Aside from a slight sag (which is to be expected from anything of that size that isn't surgically implanted, I guess) they were absolutely perfect.

Add to that the fact that they were my sister's, AND the fact that I'd wanted to see them ever since she'd grown them, and I was the happiest I'd ever, ever been.

I had no idea that in the next few weeks, things were going to get so much better...

Session 3:

"Why do you like being hypnotized?" I'd asked her once, when she was awake, and she'd thought about it for a while and told me that she found it relaxing.

I'd asked her the same question while she was under, and she'd gone into a bit more detail.

"I like feeling like I'm floating," she'd said, staring straight into my eyes, her soft voice completely expressionless. "It's like I'm somewhere else—I don't have any worries, any stress. I feel like I'm free, like I've given it all away."

"Given what?"

" ... control. I like feeling like someone else is in control. Like someone else has control of my mind, of my body ... of my life."

Ha. I wish. Like I said, it just doesn't work like that.

Session 13:

"Do you remember anything that happened last time I hypnotised you?"

"No."

That had been the answer every other time as well, but it's always safest to check. The last session had just been me putting her under, getting her topless, and then staring at her tits for half an hour before getting her to put her clothes back on. I hadn't even asked any questions ... what can I say? I was excited.

Today, however, I was determined to not to waste another session. (of course, if it weren't for the risk of asking the wrong question and having her suddenly awaken, I'd have gotten her topless and _then_ started questioning her.)

I refreshed my memory by checking what she was and wasn't okay with.

"Would you take off your top in front of me?"

"Yes."

Even when spoken in a monotone, that word is the hottest thing I've ever heard anyone say.

"Would you take off all your clothes in front of me?"

"No."

Worth checking.

"Would you let me touch you?"

"Yes."

"In what circumstances?"

"Any normal brother-sister touching."

Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure that we have different definitions of what normal brother-sister touching constitutes.

"Would you let me touch your tits?"

"No."

"Would you kiss me?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Anywhere public except the lips."

I was about to move on, but that one threw me.

"How do you define public?"

"Anything that people can normally see."

"What about your tits?"

"No."

"What about if we were at a nude beach?"

There was a surprisingly long pause there. My sister has never actually been to a nude beach, so I don't think she quite understands how they work. Eventually though, she came back with the predictable response:

"No."

I made a mental note to explore that, and moved on.

"Would you talk to me about sex?"

"Yes."

"In detail?"

"Yes."

"Would you talk to me about masturbation?"

"Yes."

"In detail?"

"No."

I still hadn't brought up masturbation with her outside of our sessions—I didn't want to risk any chance of her working out that something was odd. Anything that ran the risk of ending these session was off-limits. (that was the only reason she was still wearing a top right now.)

"Under what circumstances?"

"If we were staying in a trailer park, and agreed to leave each other alone for a while. Or if there was some kind of medical issue."

I remembered now, she'd said that before.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean by what?"

If she weren't in a trance right now, I'd swear she was deliberately being annoying.

"What do you mean by some kind of medical issue, in relation to talking about masturbation?"

"Like ... if you were in an accident, and you couldn't jerk off."

Hold up. Hold up. What?

"Let's say I was in an accident, and I couldn't jerk off. What would you say to me?"

"I'd be really sorry for you."

"Hang on. So ... let's say I've been in an accident. I was, I dunno, ski-ing."

Shake. I took a deep breath; I was on the way to something amazing here, I could tell. I just had to make sure to choose my words carefully.

"Okay. So I'm on my way home one day, and you know that really high hedge on Elm? Right, well I'm crossing the road, and a car zooms around the corner without really checking to see if there's anyone there. He hits me, and I break both my arms. And my legs."

Nod.

"You and Mom come and visit me in hospital every day. I've been there for a week, and one day when you come in ... I'm looking really sad."

Nod. I wasn't sure how far I wanted to push the "guilt" side of things, but when a car crash is your starting point, it's hard not to continue down that path.

"Mom goes and talks to the doctors about how long it will be before I can come home, and it's just you and me in the room."

Nod.

"It's not _my_ room," I quickly added, "but an impersonal hospital room. But there's a door, and no one can see in. We're at the end of a corridor, so we get a bit of warning if someone is coming in."

Nod.

"You ask why I'm looking sad, but I don't want to tell you. You insist, but I refuse to talk about it."

Nod.

"Finally, you get it out of me—I'm really embarrassed to say, but ... I'm horny."

Pause.

"You see a tear come from my right eye, and trickle down my cheek. Because of the accident, I have to be spoon-fed: normally I have a nurse feed me, but sometimes you or mom do it. I can't move my arms or legs at all."

If I'm going to milk the guilty-train, I figured, I may as well go the whole way, hey? Finally, she nodded.

"I explain that normally I masturbate fourteen or fifteen times a week... —"

Nod. Immediately. I wasn't sure if I should have been insulted—I do jerk off a lot, but ... rarely more than once a day. Y'know, a normal amount. Although since seeing my sister's tits, I had to admit, my imaginary numbers weren't too far off.

"— ... and that being immobile like this has really been killing me. What do you say?"

There was a pause, as my entranced sister thought about it, and when she answered it wasn't in the monotone that I was expecting, but in a soft, compassionate tone.

"Are you okay, bro?"

Jesus Christ, I've no idea why _that_ turned me on so much, but I went from half-mast to fully-hard in an instant. A part of me was surprised my jeans didn't burst at the speed of my erection. Normally while my sister's under, I'm at least a little turned on, but knowing that she was completely under my control (well, you know what I mean) but still talking in her normal voice ... for some reason, it really did it for me.

Maybe I could get her to "hypothetically" talk dirty to a hypothetical boyfriend some time, I pondered. No idea why she'd be calling him by my name, but perhaps... —

With a bit of effort, I shook the ideas off, and went back to our conversation.

"I tell you that no, I'm not okay, and," ... fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound... "another tear falls from my eye. What do you say?"

"Is there any way the nurses can help you with this?"

"I tell you that I'm too embarrassed. I apologize for crying, and tell you not to worry. What do you say?"

Another pause. I leaned forward as she answered.

" ... do you want _me_ to help you?"

It was weird, hearing her speak so emotively while her facial expression didn't change at all, her eyes staring blankly at me. She didn't seem to register me punching the air in victory, before turning back to her.

"I nod. What do you do?"

"I..."

I was hard as a rock by then. There was a long pause as I held my breath, not wanting to rush her.

" ... I make sure that no one's coming, and then I undo your pants, and ... and..."

For a second, I swore she was about to wake up, but after a few silent seconds of glassy staring, she continued.

" ... and I jerk you off."

Trying not to let my excitement take over, I double-checked everything.

"So if I needed it, you'd jerk me off?"

"Yes."

"Sis ... will you jerk me off?"

"I swear, bro, you should do this for a living. What time is it? I feel like I've been under for a week."

Session 25:

"I tell you that I think Mom is kind of hot. How do you react?"

"I agree."

Session 15:

After my fucking obvious mistake (What can I say? Sometimes my dick really does just take over.) I decided to do some damage control, and our fourteenth session was spent reinforcing the fact that I'm her brother, and she trusts me.

The problem was clear to me the second she woke up: I'm not actually in a hospital bed. My arms and legs aren't really broken. I shouldn't have been surprised.

Immediately after I realized my error, I'd gone into my room and jerked off three times in a row. I don't remember the last time I've been so worked up—I was so, so fucking close ... I could practically feel my sister's soft hands around my cock, those blank eyes of those staring at me, knowing that she was doing it out of compassion, out of love for her poor, broken brother.

Jesus.

Tempted though I was to get her top off again, I didn't want to risk her waking up with her tits out. I'd done a bit of thinking, and I was going to be trying something a bit tricky.

"Okay. Hypothetical. I've been hit by a car, can't move my arms and legs, and while I was in hospital, you've come in and helped me masturbate."

Nod.

"The doctors say that I have to stay in hospital for the next few months while my arms and legs heal. I'm in a lot of pain, and your help is the only way I can get relief. How often do you help?"

There was a bit of thought, but her monotonous response was worth the wait.

"Twice a week."

Wow. I don't think I've really mentioned it, but despite her occasional arrogance, I do love my sister. She's genuinely a good person. I think that's a big part of why I'm so damned attracted to her.

"After I've been in the hospital four weeks, how many times have you jerked me off?"

"6."

That stumped me for a bit, until I remember that the "first time" was a week in. She's pretty switched on.

"Okay, so you've jerked me off 6 times, and then they send me home. I'm still in the bandages and all that, but we're home alone a lot..." True. Mom works nights, which is how I get away with putting Lucy under so much. " ... and I ask if you'll keep helping me. Do you?"

"Yes."

"How often?"

Another pause, and then a question I really didn't expect.

"How often would you like me to help?"

That, right there, was the moment when I realized that I should start keeping notes. I remembered that I'd told her some crazy-high number last time, but I couldn't remember exactly what I'd said. I took a punt:

"Once a day. Will you jerk me off once a day?"

"Yes." She didn't even have to consider that one.

"What if I said more than that?"

"How often?"

"Twice a day?"

"No," she replied, and I decided that _only_ getting jerked off once a day by your sister was definitely enough for me.

"So," I said, checking the clock. Plenty of time left, but this was another vaguely risky area. I didn't want to waste the rest of the session by having her awaken early, but I knew that if this worked, I'd want the rest of the session to reap the benefits.

"So ... after a month at home, my casts come off. How many times have you jerked me off, total?"

"34 to 37 times." Quick as a whip.

"So would you say you're pretty familiar with my cock?"

"Yes."

"Do ... do you like it?"

"No."

Session 29:

"What do you think about when you masturbate?"

"You."

"What specifically?"

"I think about your cock. I think about touching it. I think about holding it. I think about watching you cum."

"What do you think about my cock?"

"I love it."

Session 15:

I hadn't meant to get side-tracked, but I'd been unable to resist checking to see if she'd spontaneously developed incestuous urges. Disappointed (but not surprised) by her low opinion of my junk, I continued:

"So after all that, the sight of me cumming is pretty familiar to you, yeah?"

"Yes."

"You wouldn't be uncomfortable around my cock, not after 34 to 37 times, would you?"

"No."

"And you're used to the sight of a hand running up and down my cock, yes?"

"Yes."

"So, hypothetically, if I were to jerk off in front of you, after all that ... you'd be okay with it?"

"No. Of course not. That would be weird."

Damn. I thought for sure I was on the right path there.

"Why not?"

"When I did it, I was helping you out. It was an act of compassion."

"Okay, so..." I thought for a minute, about my sister, about exactly how to push her buttons. "So I'm out of my cast, and I can jerk off myself again."

Nod.

"But because it's been so long, I ... I can't remember how to do it."

She did shake her head, but the pause was a little too long for my liking. How dumb does Lucy think I am?

Actually, this was a perfect time to find out.

"I can remember how to jerk off, but while you were doing it, you used all kinds of little tricks and tips that I couldn't work out."

Nod. Sexually confident, I mentally noted.

"So it takes me ages, and ... how many times did I say I jerked off, normally?"

"Fifteen times a week."

Jesus, no wonder she was happy to help out once a day. Now I'm a bit annoyed she didn't go for twice a day.

"So it takes me ages, and I just don't have time to jerk off. You were so good at it, and I can't work out how you did half the things that you did."

Nod.

"One night you're watching TV, and I come in and ask if you can turn it off." Nod. "I tell you my problem, and ask if ... if you'll help. What do you say?"

"No, of course not."

"Okay, so I ask if ... you'll tell me how you did some of the things that you did. What do you say?"

Pause.

"I'm clearly upset," I add, "and super-embarrassed, and really annoyed that I can't get off as quickly as I used to. And if you weren't so great at it, this never would have been a problem..."

Nod. Once you work out what drives someone ... kindness and arrogance, it seems, are my sister's triggers. I store that away for later as well.

"What do you say?"

Another pause. I remembered an image that had really worked for me last time.

"A single tear trickles down the side of my face..."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, she replied.

"Of course."

My sister: Kind, arrogant, and a sucker for vulnerability.

I was tempted to spend the rest of the session sitting and listening to my sister describe jerk-off techniques, but a plan was brewing in my head, and I decided that I may as well aim a tiny bit higher.

"You explain some of the techniques..."—this all hinged on how low my sister's opinion of me was, and for the first time ... I found myself hoping it was pretty low—" ... but I can't understand them."

The pause was tense, but sweet, in its own way. Finally, she nodded, and I grinned. Even though I was pretty sure it would be smooth sailing from here, I didn't want to repeat any of my earlier fuck-ups.

"You go again, but slower, and more detailed, but I just can't get them."

Nod.

"You even grab a banana and show me what you mean..." Nod. " ... but I can't work it out. I'm really frustrated with how stupid I am. What do you say?"

I wanted to see if she could get there by herself. It seemed to me that it would stick better if she reached her own conclusions, seem less like I was forcing her into anything. There was another long pause, possibly the longest yet, but eventually she stirred.

"If you want," she said, her normal voice surprising me. I hadn't paid attention to the way I'd phrased the question. "I could watch, and give you tips."

"So," I said, "you'd be okay with, hypothetically, watching me masturbate?"

"Yes." The monotone returned.

"In full lighting, in the middle of the lounge-room, you'd be okay with me jerking off in front of you?"

"Yes."

"Even though I'm not injured, and have full use of my limbs?"

"Yes."

The big moment. I was going as slowly as I could, but it couldn't be held off any longer.

"What would you do if, right now, I were to start jerking off?"

"I would offer you advice on how to do it."

Session A1:

"What do you think of me, Mom?"

"I love you, sweetie. You know that."

"Who's your favorite child?"

"I don't have a favorite."

Honestly, I'd expected that one to wake her up.

"What do you think of Lucy?"

"I love her."

"Have you ever masturbated while thinking about either of us?"

"Of course not."

I don't know how she manages to make a monotone angrily emphatic. Must be a mother thing.

"How often do you masturbate?"

"Well, I certainly can see why Lucy recommended that! I feel much better already."

Finally. Turns out that Mom is harder to shock than I expected.

"Let me know when you want to go again, Ma."

Session 15:

"Okay, now you want to use way more lube than that. That's right, slather it on. Now it's not just a hand, you have to pretend it's a pu ... pretend it's a vagina. Pretend that instead of your hand, you're having sex with a woman's vagina. I mean, unless you're gay, then ... yeah, anyway. That's good. Loosen your grip up a bit, just like that. Good job. Now slow down a bit. Great. Thrust your hips slightly, oppose the motion of your hand. Great, great. Now you're getting it. Okay, now with your other hand, I want you to reach down and slightly tickle your balls. Excellent. Okay, now slightly speed up—don't go crazy, but go just a little bit faster ... and tighten your grip a tiny bit. Now faster, yes, that's it. Come on, you can do it. You're doing an awesome job. Make sure you're going over the head every time you pump—great! You're so close; be a bit rougher on your balls there. Aaaand there we go. Great job, bro. I knew you could do it."

A minute later when I woke my sister up, she sniffed slightly and I froze with fear—I'd cleaned up, but it was still a closed room. Fortunately, she quickly shook it off, and thanked me for helping her relax.

"Any time, sis." I said with a grin. "Any time."


	Chapter 3

**Session 16:**

"Okay," I started, the second her eyes had glazed over. There was a lot I wanted to cover ... the previous session had made me hungry to see how far my sister's limits could be pushed. I wanted more, and I'd worked out how I was going to get it.

"So when I was in the hospital, you were the only way I could get relief. You jerked me off a few times a week, and when we got home, you kept on doing it until I lost my casts - since then you've started talking to me while I jerk off, giving me tips."

Nod. Nod. Nod. Nod. Each and every time my step-sister nodded that sexy little nod of hers (I think it's a Pavlov's dog thing - I'm sure that a single nod didn't used to make me instantly erect) I struggled not to look down at her tits. They would jiggle with every nod, very slightly.

It was difficult resist the temptation to get her topless.

_Plenty of time for that later,_ I told myself.

"How many times will you talk to me while I jerk off?"

"As many times as it takes."

Damn, that monotone.

"Fifty times?"

Shake.

"Okay, what if it took me twenty times?"

Shake.

"Ten?"

Shake.

"How about five?"

A pause, and then a nod. Great ... five times. Not as many as I was hoping for, but I can work with that.

"So after five times, you're pretty comfortable with me jerking off in front of you?"

"Yes ... I suppose so."

"Would," I asked, already knowing the answer, "it be weird if I just jerked off in front of you without needing your advice?"

"Yes. Yes, that would be weird."

"Okay."

I took a deep breath. I'd spent a few hours thinking about little hints that my sister had dropped, and I finally thought I had a way of tying them all together, into the start of a master plan. But it would depend on a bit of imagination, a bit of luck, and a theory that I wasn't 100% sure of yet.

"So you've talked to me five times, while I jerk off. I want you to imagine each of those times. How long did the first time take?"

"About five minutes." Hey, I'd been excited.

"So the first time, it took five minutes. But masturbation is better when it takes a bit longer, isn't it?"

There was a long pause, and then a nod. I probably should have asked that one in the abstract - she was dangerously close to waking up ... but I knew that in this session, I'd be taking some risks. If she was going to wake up, she was going to wake up, and I'd have to rethink the entire plan anyway.

"So the second time, wouldn't your tips include some ways that I could last longer? After all, you are the expert..."

Nod.

"So by the third or fourth time, I must be lasting ages, right? Because of how good your tips are?"

Nod. I swear, if I could manipulate my sister this easily when she was awake, I'd have had her wrapped around my cock _years_ ago...

"So the fifth and final time you talk to me while I'm masturbating, how long do I take?"

"About an hour," she replied. And I swear I saw a spark of mischief in her eyes as she added " ... and when you finish, it's amazing."

"Right. So you've taught me how to jerk off really really well, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Now, I want you to imagine each of the sessions. How close to you have to get, to properly instruct me?"

"Well, not that close..."

"Remember, you've touched me before. Thirty-four to thirty-seven times before. It's not weird if you get close."

"I don't need to get too close."

Damn. I could have fought it, but it wasn't really necessary. I just wanted her as close as possible while I hypothetically jerked off. A part of me was curious to see how she'd react to having my cum land on her ... but I (wisely) decided to instead stick to the plan.

"So you don't sit super close ... maybe a foot away?"

"Two feet," she said, negotiating without expression.

"So you're two feet away while I masturbate and you talk to me. All up, that's what, two hours of masturbation? Three?"

"Closer to four."

My sister always did have a good head for math.

"So you sit about two feet away from me for almost four hours while I masturbate. You're really close to my cock, as my hand pumps up and down. You can see on my face how excited I am, how aroused. You know that your advice is what's getting me off, your advice is what's turning me on. You're responsible for getting me off, for getting me hard ... you're sitting there, so close to me, when I cum, when I shoot off everyhwhere..."

I seriously wouldn't have been surprised if she'd woken up then, but I'd made sure that nothing I said contradicted stuff that she'd already agreed to. Tempting though it was, I didn't add "You love it" or "it gets you hot" - I just stuck to simple, already-accepted statements of fact.

When Lucy's hypnotized, she doesn't see the difference between "take your top off" and "show me your tits". She doesn't care if I say it while panting like a wild thing or in a monotone like her. I could play with wording and tone, as long as the information stays the same.

**Session 25:**

"So just to confirm ... you think that erections are attractive?"

"Yes."

"In the right context, you find them arousing?"

"Yes."

"And in your fantasies, you sometimes imagine yourself being promiscuous?"

"Yes."

"A fantasy is another word for something we want, isn't it? Fantasies are like dreams or goals - they're the world that, on some level, we want to live in. Right?

Pause.

"Yes."

"So you want to be a slut, don't you?"

Pause.

"Yes."

"You love cock and you just want to be a little slut. You get turned on by the idea of sucking and fucking cock, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I love cock. I just want to be a little slut. I get turned on by the idea of sucking and fucking cock."

I love my life.

**Session 16:**

No, instead of waking up, her breathing got faster. Just slightly, but enough to encourage me. A flush appeared on her neck, and I again had to fight the temptation to make her strip, and see how far the flush spread...

My plan was working.

See, my sister is a healthy, heterosexual specimen of womanhood. When a straight person comes in contact with genitals of the opposite gender, and is put in charge of getting them off, again and again ... there's going to be an effect.

I had sort of brushed over the details, because I didn't want to gross her out and wake her up, but now that they were established as "true", I thought it was time to let her mind dwell on exactly what had "happened" for a little.

"Of course, as well as watching me jerk off five times, you jerked me off yourself, didn't you?"

After a brief pause, she nodded. Now, I may have been reading too much into it, but in that moment, it didn't seem like the pause was because she was struggling, like she was about to wake up ... it felt like the delay was because her mind was elswhere. Although I hadn't even told her to reflect on all those times she'd made me cum, it seemed like she was getting there on her own.

"How many times did you jerk me off, Lucy?"

"34 to 37 times."

"Why did you do it?"

"You're my brother." Interesting phrasing. "I wanted to take care of you."

"So if you were taking care of me, you'd want to make sure that my orgasms were really great, wouldn't you?"

There was a pause, and I realized I was going too fast. Before her mind could rebel too much, I continued.

"I mean, at first you just wanted to help me out, and get me off as quickly as possible, right?"

Nod.

"But ... you're not the kind of person who can do a half-assed job, are you? No, when you set your mind to something, you have to be the best."

Nod. God love predictable little Lucy.

"So after the first five or ten times, you'd want to make sure that you're doing it as well as you can."

Nod.

"In fact, you could even use this as an opportunity to practice some new techniques..."

Risky, but it was only a few seconds before I got a nod. Perfect.

"So after a while, you're making it last as long as you can, so that my orgasms are really great, right?"

Nod. Thank the lord my sister has an ego.

I decided to take a risk - everything was going so well, I may as well try it out.

"In fact, to make sure that I'm as aroused as possible, would you have ever taken your top off? Just to improve the quality of the hand-job?"

As my sister shook her head, her eyes started to flutter. _Shit,_ I thought, _I've pushed it too far this time..._

I sat there for close to a minute, as she internally struggled with what I said, before her breathing slowed down again. Incest has been a turn-on for me for so long that I actually forget that's not normal from time to time. Lucy clearly finds it sick. I make a mental note that "sister as turn-on" is a topic to avoid in future.

**Session 29:**

"Why do you love my cock so much?"

"Because it's forbidden."

"What do you mean?"

"You're my brother. I shouldn't be lusting after you."

"Does that turn you on?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean?"

"It's sexy that you're my brother. It's sexy that wanting you is so taboo. I find it arousing, knowing that I shouldn't find you hot ... but I do."

"How do you feel about me finding you sexy?"

"It turns me on. It turns me on knowing that my body makes my brother hard. It turns me on, knowing that my brother is turned on by his sister. And it turns me on knowing that all of these thoughts are wrong. It's naughty. And I love it."

**Session A4:**

"Yes, of course I want to be a good mother."

"A good mother makes her children happy, doesn't she?"

"Well ... sometimes."

"Okay, let me put it this way - a good mother makes sure her children don't suffer, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"Are you a good mother?"

"Yes."

"So you want to make sure to minimise your children's suffering, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And how abo... -"

The knock at the door made me jump in fright. I'd gotten so lost in mother's big brown eyes that I hadn't been paying any attention to my surroundings.

"Hey, it's me!"

Crap!

"Uh ... mom ... show me your tits!" I whispered frantically. Fortunately, it worked, and a broad smile appeared on her face.

"Wow! Thanks, son ... that's really relax... -"

My mom's words were cut off as Lucy opened the door.

"Oh, hey mom! I didn't know you were in here!"

"That's okay, Luce ... I was just leaving."

She began to thank me, but I shook my head, very slightly, and we both turned to look at the doorway where Lucy was standing.

She was staring straight at me, a very serious look on her face.

**Session 16:**

I waited another few minutes, just to be safe, and noticed that the flush was gone. Lucy's breathing returned to normal, and though I didn't know how exactly much her arousal level affected what she was going to agree to, I read something once that said the more aroused you are, the more likely you are to go along with things you'd normally find abhorrent.

Also, I really liked watching my sister get turned on while thinking about my dick.

One eye on the clock, I spent the next ten minutes talking about how it had felt when she'd jerked me off, how excited I'd been, how long she'd spent in my hospital room or bedroom, getting me off. As usual, our session was taking place in the lounge-room, but I was hoping to move them into my room soon, and mentally link the place with sex in her mind.

As I spoke, her breathing got notably heavier - her nipples were visible through her shirt, and she'd very slightly started rubbing her legs together. Even through her trance, she was subconsciously reacting to the idea of pleasuring my cock (which, by this point, was extremely hard.)

Finally, I laid out my master plan, the hypothetical that I hoped would get me that one step closer to the final goal: having my sister.

"Okay," I said. "So you've talked to me while I've jerked off five times. I thank you."

Nod.

"After that, you know when I've just jerked off, because I make sure to thank you afterward."

Nod. Not actually part of the plan, it just came to me. I feel like anything that gets her thinking about me jerking off will be helpful.

"One day, I come home from school, and you can tell that I'm crying. I try to hide it from you..."

Nod.

" ... but because we've become so close, you follow me to my room, knock, and ask what's wrong."

Nod. You'd think that I'd feel guilty, taking advantage of my compassionate, loving, caring sister ... but I'm long past that.

"I tell you to go away, but you insist. Finally, I come out, and I tell you - I went to kiss a girl at school today, but she laughed at me. She said that I was doing it all wrong. What do you do?"

"I laugh," she said simply. She may be compassionate, loving and caring ... but yeah, she's my sister.

"Your laughter makes me start crying again," I said, laying it on thick. "I try not to show it, but you can see the tears running down my face, the slight heaves of my shoulder. What do you do?"

"I apologise," Lucy replied in a monotone, "and put my hand on your shoulder."

"And?" I prompted.

"And I ask if there's anything I can do to help."

Excellent. There was a brief pause, as I considered whether or not we should go in for a hug, but my plan relies on this being as impersonal as possible, so after a slight delay, I continued.

"I tell you that it's just so embarrassing ... that I don't think I'll ever be able to kiss a girl properly ... and ask if you can teach me how to kiss. What do you say?"

"Of course," she said, her normal tone surprising me. I never even noticed the monotone any more; only when her normal voice became a part of the session did I become aware that it wasn't how she always sounded. "I'll find some tips online."

"I read the tips," I said hurriedly, not wanting to lose any momentum. "But I can't understand them. No matter how you explain things, I can't get it."

Nod. Of course.

"So," I said, pausing before I posed the million-dollar question... "will you show me how to kiss, sis? Will you make out with me, so I can learn?"

There was a pause. The pause continued. Her eyes began to flutter, and I leaned forward nervously. It was more than a minute later before anything changed - the longest pause yet - when Lucy blinked twice, and looked at me in confusion.

" ... what were we just talking about?"

**Session A2:**

Probably because it was, y'know, her house, Mom had no issue letting me hypnotize her in my room. It was a while before we were able to make time for a second session, because I liked to wait for the rare occasions when Mom was home and Lucy was out - I didn't want to run the risk of being interrupted.

From my room, I could hear her car pull up, so even in the unlikely event that she got home early, I'd have plenty of time to wake Mom up.

Tempting though it was to use the same technique with Mom that I did on Lucy, I instinctively knew it wouldn't work. They had different drives - where Lucy was all ego and kindness, Mom was more about the self-sacrifice and being a great mother. I know it's ... what's it called..."armchair psychology", but that had to be why she worked all the time. We'd survive just fine if Mom only had the one job, but she wanted to make sure that we had the best in life.

It was an easy enough task to convince her to let me hypnotize her - she's constantly stressed, and Lucy backed me up when I said it'd definitely relax her.

(I mean, it was also the truth. Lucy had always woken up more relaxed, even when she'd been woken up by requests that shocked her to the core.)

So I sat in my computer chair, Mom sat on my bed, and I put her under. Watching her sit there, slack-jawed, those big eyes of her so beautifully blank ... I guess I'd gotten used to seeing Lucy like this, because it didn't get me instantly hard like it used to, but the second Mom went under, my cock was hard, even after jerking off three times the previous night.

"So, Mom..." I started nervously. "You love me, yeah?"

"Yes."

Mom prefers the "yes" to the nod, for some reason. Maybe it's a generational thing, maybe Lucy is just lazy, maybe everyone responds differently to hypnosis. My own pet theory is that Mom is just that tiny bit more submissive - she loves hearing herself agree, but that's most likely just projection.

I love hearing my mother say yes.

"And you love Lucy?"

"Yes, of course."

Sure, Lucy gets an "of course". I tried not to let sibling rivalry raise its head. This definitely wasn't the time.

"And you want the best for us, yeah?"

"Yes."

"So you know that siblings who grow up close tend to do over 100% better in life, yeah?"

"Okay..."

That might actually be true - I've no idea. One of the reasons that Mom wants to support us so bad is so that we can get into a good college - she never went. She has this weird respect for people who can spout off facts and statistics, and that was something I'd be taking full advantage of.

"So you want me and Lucy to be close, yeah?"

"Yes."

"So we should spend plenty of time together."

"Yes."

"Maybe we should spend more time together than we are now? I mean, you don't know how much time we spend together, since you're never home ... but it's not much."

Guilt.

Self-sacrifice, believing facts and figures without question, and guilt. I'd done a lot of thinking about it, and I'd come to the conclusion that those were my mother's buttons. She's not home much, and I figured she must feel at least a little bit guilty about that.

"Yes."

"So on the rare occasion when Lucy and I are alone, you won't just barge in on us ... you don't want to stop your children from being close, do you?"

"No."

"Thanks, Mom."

I knew I'd have to reinforce it a few times, but I knew it'd be worth it. Even though she's rarely home, I don't hypnotise Lucy on nights when Mom might walk in on us. Until I can get Lucy more comfortable with my bedroom, we have to do it out in the open, and if Mom walked in to find me jerking off, or Lucy topless...

Well, this was my first preventative measure.

I repeated the commands a few times, and then woke her up. Baby steps.

**Session 9:**

"How do you feel about me hypnotizing Mom?"

"I think it's a good idea. She needs a way to unwind."

**Session 42:**

"How do you feel about me hypnotizing Mom?"

"I think it's so hot. I want you to turn her into your sex slave. I want you to fuck her face while she's under. I want you to cum in her mouth, and for her to wake up with no idea why her mouth tastes so strange. The idea really turns me on.

"I can't wait."

**Session A4:**

Lucy walked into my room, and I closed the door. I found the serious look on her face terrifying ... had she worked out what was happening? After she'd woken up from our last session, and asked what we'd been talking about, I'd had a moment of panic, and just said "stuff".

Five minutes later, by the time a thousand better responses had sprung to mind, she'd wandered off, a confused look on her face. I hadn't had a chance to be alone with her again, and even if I had ... I don't know if suggesting hypnosis would have been a good idea.

She was clearly suspicious, and currently the only game-plan I'd come up with was "hypnotizing mom more", just as a safeguard. Being caught, alone in a room with Mom, door locked ... it wasn't helping.

"Why was Mom in here?" she asked.

"Because of ... cleaning."

I'm not good at thinking on the spot.

The serious look never left her face, and she sat down on the bed, and patted for me to sit next to her.

"Hey..." she started, her nervousness making me nervous.

"Yeah, Luce?" I said, trying to keep it light-hearted.

"Uh ... look, I don't know how to bring this up, so ... I'm just going to say it."

"Of course, sis. You can tell me anything."

"I've been thinking a lot about what we were talking about the other day..."

I froze. Except for our sessions, me and Lucy didn't really talk much. The only non-hypnotic conversation I could remember having with her in the last week was about breakfast cereal, and I didn't think that a discussion about Cornflakes could have been the reason she'd visited my room straight after she finished work.

I really wished I'd been more careful. I wished I'd been more cautious in our last session, and I wished I'd listened out for Lucy's return a bit better while Mom was under.

"Yeah?" I replied, as non-chalantly as I could manage, considering my heart was trying to leap out of my throat.

"Aand ... look, I don't think it would be right."

"No?"

I wanted to ask what the hell she was talking about, but at the same time, didn't want to draw attention to the fact that I had no idea what she was talking about.

There was a long pause, and she stared at me unblinkingly, obviously waiting for me to say something.

"Uh ... why not?" I added, her gentle smile starting to relax a little. It was starting to sound like I wasn't in trouble, that my sister _hadn't_ worked out that I'd been slowly hypnotizing her into stripping in front of me, or watching me jerk off.

"Well, I mean, I know I... 'helped out' with some other stuff," she said, gesturing at my pants. "But I _am_ your sister, after all. It wouldn't be right, teaching you ... y'know. Teaching you how to kiss."

I hope my face didn't show my mind blowing, because inside my head, that was what was going on. I hadn't put all the pieces of the puzzle together, but one thing was clear: she thought that the stuff we'd been talking about was real. As far as my sister was concerned, she'd jerked me off 34 to 37 times, watched me jerk off for almost 4 hours, and now she remembered me asking her if she could teach me how to make out.

At that stage, I had no idea how it happened, but it didn't seem like she'd tied it to the hypnosis, so I decided to play along.

"Yeah..." I replied, after I'd processed what had happened. "No, that's fair enough."

"I don't mean to be a bitch or anything..." she said.

"Nah, it's cool. Really." I was the king of chill, and I impulsively decided to take a huge risk. "Hey, what're you up to now? I was thinking maybe you could watch me, maybe you've remembered some more tips you could share?"

She laughed, and I sighed heavily. I was simultaneously relieved that she wasn't flipping out, and sad that she hadn't answered with an enthusiastic 'yes'.

"Sorry bro, I'm all tapped out. Everything I know, you now know."

I smiled, trying to mask my disappointment, and as she went to leave, she turned back for a second.

"Hey, I'll tell you what though ... it'd be weird for me to teach you how to kiss, but I could ask around my friends? I think Marcie thinks you're cute. Whaddya say?"

I just nodded in response. My system was still flooded with adrenaline, and I had no idea how to proceed.

**Session B6:**

"So, Marcie, what would you say if I asked if I could fuck you?"

"Nope."

Ah well, worth a try. Still, I'd settle for what I'd achieved so far. After all, Marcie was just a placeholder.

"While you suck my cock, I want you to play with yourself ... but you're not allowed to cum until I do, okay?"

"Gotcha," she said in a monotone, pulling her panties down.

As she slipped my cock in her mouth, I shut my eyes and thought of Lucy...


	Chapter 4

Taking Marcie had been surprisingly easy. After she came over to "teach me how to kiss", we'd ... well, the "lesson" was basically an hour of making out. (while my goal was, ultimately, to have that kind of intimacy with Lucy, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth)

It'd been child's play to convince her to try hypnosis, and once I had, it was only a few more sessions before I got her topless. Turns out that when you're not battling against an aversion to incest, it's pretty easy to come up with hypothetical situations in which girls will take their tops off for you.

Not going to lie, Marcie was a tiny bit of a slut. Or maybe she was just more into me than I was expecting. Either way, she was going down on me within the week, playing with herself in front of me just a few days later, and one session after that, both at once.

As much as I was enjoying getting off inside my sister's friend's cute little mouth, I never lost track of my real goal. After the weirdness that was Lucy getting my hypotheticals and reality confused, I took a long break from putting her under, at least until I could work out what was happening.

One day at breakfast, when it was just the two of us, I'd casually asked her a few questions about my "accident". She'd placed it about a year ago, in the summer. I'd run through a mental checklist of what had actually happened during that summer, and to be honest ... it hadn't been much. As I recalled, I'd spent most of it in my room jerking off ... nothing that would directly contradict being hit by a truck and then spending 8 weeks in recuperation.

Just to be safe, I'd asked her not to bring it up to anyone. It was a weird conversation, but I'm pretty sure that I managed to convince her to at least avoid mentioning it to Mom - I'd said it would "bring back the traumatic memories", and that at the time, I'd worried Mom had suspected something about how often Lucy had been coming into my room.

I think she bought it. I wouldn't be sure until I could put her under again, but I didn't know what else to do.

Fun though Marcie was, I was okay with screwing things up and losing access to her. So I used her as a test subject, to see if I could work out what had happened with my sister. After five or six more sessions, I had a pretty good idea of exactly what had gone "wrong".

**Session B13:**

"Do you feel my cock, slowly sliding in and out of your mouth, Marcie?"

Due to my cock slowly sliding in and out of her mouth, I couldn't really understand her response, but I was pretty sure it was positive.

"You like it, don't you? You like knowing how hard I am, how turned on you make me. You like knowing that you're responsible for my arousal, and that you're the one who's going to get me off."

This was my fourth theory. I'd tried a few other things - building a memory and revisiting it several times, constructing an elaborate hypothetical and then behaving like it was true ... but they'd all led to nothing. For simplicity's sake, I was using the same story - that I'd been hit by a truck, and spent the summer in a full-body cast. The last thing that I needed was to have two elaborate lies floating around to keep track of.

"You like knowing that I'm going to cum in your mouth, you like getting me hard and getting me off. You like being my little cock-slut, don't you Marcie?"

Another muffled "yes".

I'd extensively cross-examined her, trying to find a grey area of morality for her - something that she wouldn't definitely answer "yes" to, but if she was turned on enough, she might consider.

"When I was in my full-body cast, and you used to come over to go to the pool with my sister, do you remember me looking at you? Do you remember me looking at your bikini-clad body, Marcie?"

It was tricky to find an angle that tied what she was doing to me having an accident, but I was starting to get good at it. In the hypothetical I'd constructed, she'd gotten so used to teasing me that when I was better, she'd kept on going until I'd "snapped", grabbed her and started making out, and we'd been secretly getting each other off ever since (though never gone any further than oral.)

"You used to get me so hard, Marcie. And you loved it, didn't you? You used to make sure to spend at least a few minutes flaunting yourself in front of me, knowing that you were turning me on and that I couldn't do a thing about it..."

Marcie's triggers, aside from a healthy sex-drive? A tiny bit of cruelty, a tiny bit of power, and a lot of exhibitionism. People are so easy to play, once you find out what makes them tick.

"You can't cum, Marcie, not until I tell you to. Don't stop, though. Don't stop rubbing your clit, thinking about how your best friend's little brother spent so many hours staring at your body, thinking about how much he wanted to see you naked, thinking about how much he wanted to touch your tits, feel your mouth wrapped around his hardness..."

Power and cruelty worked both ways though - she'd loved the hypothetical moment when I'd given into my urges, forced her mouth to mine, been unable to stop my hands from exploring her body. She loved being deprived, too, which was handy - my experiment relied on her being as turned on as possible. Her nipples were hard and her pussy was practically dripping when I suddenly pulled my cock out of her mouth, and brought her eyes back to mine, enjoying the total blankness that I saw within. Her breathing was heavy, and her mouth was slightly ajar.

"You're outside. You know that I'm just on the other side of the window, listening in. You've spent the morning teasing me, enjoying watching me squirm in my full-body cast, knowing that I'm powerfully turned on and can't do anything about it."

As I spoke, I redressed her. I wanted her to wake up, and finding herself naked would probably raise make her at least a tiny bit suspicious.

"Today though, you want to take things a tiny bit further, really mess with me. You turn to my sister, and ask her if she wants to practice making out, knowing that I'll hear, knowing how hot it will sound. You ask my sister if she wants to practice kissing, just to turn me on."

I finished as I put the last of her clothes back on. There was a pause, and - just as I'd hoped - Marcie's eyes began to flutter. She had a very, very slight leaning toward bisexuality - it wasn't something she'd ever explored, though she'd thought about it while playing with herself once or twice. And while it was an idea she'd expressed interest in before, I knew that she'd never _actually_ ask my sister if they could practice making out, simply because she didn't want to affect their friendship.

**Session 29:**

"Marcie asks you if you want to practice making out. What do you say?"

"I say yes."

"Why?"

"In case my brother wants to kiss me. I want to be as good as I can possibly be."

"Any other reason?"

"It's hot. Two girls making out is sexy. And if we do it somewhere that my brother might see, it might turn him on..."

"Everything you do is to turn your brother on, isn't it?"

Nod.

"Say it."

"Everything I do is to turn my brother on."

**Session B13:**

Her eyes fluttered for another thirty seconds, but to my disappointment, they stopped, and in a soft voice, she replied.

"Yup."

Damn it. My current theory was that when you woke someone up, if it wasn't an abrupt switch from asleep to awake, it blurred the lines - the current hypothetical landed firmly in their memories, and as far as they were concerned, wasn't a hypothetical. The stories I told became, as far as the person under was concerned, facts.

Again, until I put her under next, I couldn't be sure, but I'd dropped some questions in casual conversation, and none of my other hypotheticals had locked themselves into my sister's memory. She didn't think that we'd won the lottery (thank goodness - that would have been a tricky one to explain away) or that she'd dated Johnny Depp.

She had no idea that I'd ever seen her topless, either. None of the things I'd said to her while she was under had affected her waking mind in the slightest, except the truck accident. Other than the fact that I'd used it to make her a bit turned on, and the question that she'd woken up slowly from, I couldn't think of anything different about that hypothetical.

I needed to find something that would wake Marcie up, but slowly. Something that she wouldn't normally do, wouldn't normally consider, except for when she was turned on...

Suddenly, it hit me.

**Session B3:**

"Would you talk to me about your fantasies?"

"Sure."

Different people have different limits, y'know? Either because of my sister's relative uptightness, Marcie's relatively free-and-easy, or the simple fact that I'm not her brother, I'd found that Marcie was happy to discuss almost anything with me.

"Would you tell me what you think about when you masturbate?"

There was a long pause.

"No."

"Hypothetical: you're teaching me how to kiss, and really enjoying it. We start hanging out more and more, until we're pretty much dating. Would you tell me what you think about when you masturbate then?"

"No."

"If we were pretty much dating, would you still make out with me?"

"Uh-huh."

"What if I asked you to stay the night, would you sleep with me? Literally sleep, nothing else."

"Sure."

"What if I asked if we could play with ourselves in front of each other? What would you say?"

"I'd love that..." she said, in a sultry tone.

"And then what if I told you my fantasies - if I told you what I thought about when I play with myself? Would you tell me what you think about?"

There was another pause, before she replied in a monotone.

"Yes."

"Tell me what you think about when you play with yourself."

**Session B13:**

I'd never been able to decide which I found hotter - getting Marcie to tell me her sexual fantasies in a monotone, or her turned-on, sexy voice.

They were both great, and more importantly - useful. See, knowing what Marcie thought about when she was turned on meant (I hoped) that I knew her limits - stuff that she wouldn't do ... but would be tempted by, if she was incredibly turned on.

"You ask Lucy if she wants to practice making out, knowing that I'm just inside, and she says no."

"Right."

"She seems a bit annoyed by it, and gets up to walk away. She's wearing a bikini - that black one..." My encyclopaedic knowledge of my sister's bikinis was coming in handy. " ... and as she walks away, you check her out."

"Got it."

Marcie's breathing was heavy, and I knew that if this was ever going to work, it was going to work now.

"She turns back to look at you, over her shoulder. You wink at her, and..."

I swear, she leaned forward. The fact that I was recounting one of her own masturbatory fantasies probably meant that she was dying to hear what "she" did next.

" ... without breaking eye contact, you reach around behind yourself, and take your bikini top off."

Her eyes began to flutter, her fingers began to twitch. It was like she was struggling between the urge to wake up, and the urge to play with herself.

It was close to thirty seconds when her fingers stopped twitching. I watched, as her pupils contracted, and a puzzled look came over her face.

"Lucy?" she said, looking at me in confusion. "Oh, sorry ... I could have sworn..."

She drifted off, and I watched as she blinked a few times and got her bearings.

"Sorry, I was ... lost in a memory, I guess."

Suddenly, she grinned, that cheeky grin that I was getting so used to.

"Anyway," she said, stripping off her shirt. "How long do we have until Lucy gets home? I feel like it's been months since we last got together..."

A few minutes later, as I came into Marcie's mouth, I smiled to myself.

I really was starting to get good at this.


	Chapter 5

Life was good.

My sister's best friend was my casual fuck-buddy (minus the fucking, unfortunately), my sister Lucy thought that she'd jerked me off more than 30 times in the last few months ... and I was pretty sure she found the idea pretty exciting.

What's more, I was really starting to get the hang of this hypnosis thing. I could concoct a reality, check with their subconscious mind that they'd accept it as true, and then convince them that it _was_ true.

With my balls being emptied into Marcie on a regular basis, my head was clear, and I knew exactly what to do from here. The path was obvious:

It was time to go back to basics.

Session 17:

"So a few months after my accident, they call me back into hospital, and they think they find something. It's not super dangerous, but they want to keep me in for a few days, to make sure."

My adopted sister sat in front of my, glassy-eyed, totally absorbed by my every word. I was concocting another elaborate hypothetical - if I could convince her subconscious mind to do something, then she'd do it no matter what the circumstances. I'd used it to see my sister's tits, to have her talk to me while I jerked off in front of her, and now I was curious to see how far I could push her limits.

She nodded.

"The few days turn into a week, because they're being super cautious. Do you come and visit me?"

"Yes."

"Do you jerk me off?"

There was a delightful (if short) pause, and Lucy shook her head. I had been expecting that, but it was still worth a try.

"Why not?"

"Your arms are working fine. You can do it yourself."

"Since you stopped jerking me off, or talking me through it, have you thought about it much?"

There was another short pause, and then a quiet "Yes."

"Would you tell me how often?"

"Yes."

"How often?"

"When you come and tell me that you've just jerked off. Every time you come and thank me, I remember."

I'd completely forgotten about that. It was part of the "broken legs" story that had caused her to hypothetically jerk me off in the first place - I'd mentioned that I came and thanked her, each time I came.

Since it was part of that story, and I'd convinced Lucy that the events leading up to her jerking me off had actually happened, as far as Lucy was concerned ... it was reality. That meant ... that meant that I could actually do that in real life. Like, when Lucy _wasn't_ under.

The idea of coming to tell Lucy that I'd just jerked off, actually doing it for real ... it got me hard straight away.

But I stayed on task. I had a plan, and I was going to follow it.

Session 35:

"You'll come and tell me when you masturbate, won't you Lucy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to know how horny you make me."

"What else will you tell me?"

"I'll tell you exactly what I thought about. I'll tell you what was running through my mind when I came."

"What else?"

"I'll tell you how I touched myself. I'll tell you whether I used my fingers or a toy."

"And?"

"And I'll thank you."

Session 17:

"You've never stayed in a hospital, have you Lucy?"

"No."

"Well I have, and I can tell you - they don't let you have tissues near your bed. And if I jerked off myself, they'd find the wet patch in my hospital clothes, or in my bedsheets ... it would be really embarrassing. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"I explain this to you in the hospital. What do you say?"

"Oh wow," my sister said, her normal tones delighting me, as they always did. I loved her monotone, but having her sit in front of me like that, under my control but using her normal voice ... I don't know why, but it gave me such a thrill. "That really sucks, bro."

"I ask if you'll help me out, and jerk me off. What do you say?"

"How will that help?"

If I'd been improvising, that probably would have stumped me. But I'd been thinking about this for a while - most recently a few days ago, looking down and watching Marcie's head bob up and down on my cock - and I had an answer.

"You could swallow my cum. Do you agree?"

There was a long pause, and my sister started twitching. I really didn't want her to wake up - I was already worried about her or Marci mentioning my extended hospital stay in front of Mom, or one of my friends - adding an inexplicable follow-up stay would have made everything that much harder - but fortunately, she calmed down after a minute or two.

"No," she said, and I sat back in disappointment. From cum-swallowing to blow-jobs was, I was fairly sure, a short path, but it didn't seem like I was going to be able to make that first step.

I considered waking her then and there - I had some other methods that I wanted in the middle of trying out on Marcie first, and I had already gotten uncomfortably close to waking my sister up once ... but I had an idea.

"Would you help me smuggle out my cum, if I jerked myself off?"

There was a pause - not long enough to be worrisome, just a short pause - and Lucy nodded.

"Would you watch me masturbate, while I did?"

Again, a short pause and then a nod. Interesting. A few months ago, I never would have imagined myself in this position, but it seemed that my sister Lucy was more than happy to watch me jerk off, if the circumstances were right.

"Would you tell me if you'd enjoy it?"

"Yes."

"Would you enjoy it? Watching me masturbate?"

" ... yes."

There was something there, but I didn't have a clue what to do with it. So I retraced my steps, hoping that it would provide me with inspiration.

"So if I were in hospital, horny and unable to get release, you'd watch me masturbate and help smuggle my cum out?"

"Yes."

"Will you smuggle it in your mouth?"

Pause.

"No."

"Will you smuggle it in your handbag?"

"Ew. No."

"Will you smuggle it in your hair, under your hat?"

"No."

No pause before that one. It was, I had to admit, a bit of a long shot.

"Will you smuggle it on your skin somewhere?"

The twitching began again, which had me worried that I was playing too fast and loose, but when it subsided and she whispered another "yes", my heart leapt.

"You'll let me cum on your skin?"

"Yes. As long as I can cover it up with clothes until I get home and get to have a shower."

I could have aimed for the legs, or her arms, but I had an idea, and I decided to throw caution to the wind.

"Can I cum on your tits?"

After what felt like the longest pause of my life, she answered.

"Yes," my sister said. "I'll let you cum on my tits."

Session A8:

"What would you do, Mom, if you found Lucy and I in a room together, naked?"

"I'd be shocked."

"What if we told you that we were just huddled together for warmth?"

"It would still be shocking."

"Recent studies have shown that contact between two naked people is one hundred times more effective than a blanket."

"That doesn't mean it's okay to do that with your sister..."

"Why not?"

"Well ... because..."

"..."

"I don't know."

I smiled. I'd found a gap in my mother's knowledge, and if there was one thing my mother loved, it was learning...

Session 17:

So my sister was okay with me cumming on her tits. Only in that extremely specific scenario, I should add, else my cock would have already been out.

The image of my sister, sitting in front of me, her tits covered in my cum ... it was one of the sexiest things I'd ever imagined. Before I woke her up, I got her to repeat the statement a few more times.

"I will let you cum on my tits."

"Again."

"I will let you cum on my tits."

"Again."

"I will let you cum on my tits."

It's possible I had her repeat the statement a few times while topless as well.

The session hadn't brought me to the blow-job that I'd hoped was coming, but it was the first step down a very specific path. At that moment, almost more than anything, I wanted to blow a load on my sister's chest. I don't know why I found the idea so erotic, but I knew that I had a new focus. And I thought I knew just how to get there...

Session B16:

"What did you dream about last night, Marcie?"

"You. Again."

Those two words, so mundane, normally so inconsequential ... in that order, in that situation, they were two of the hottest words I'd ever heard.

As much fun as fooling around with Marcie was, it wasn't what I truly wanted. I wanted my sister, and Marcie's most useful asset was as a test subject - before I risked screwing things up with Lucy, I tested them out on Marcie first.

And last week, I'd had an idea.

Session B14:

"What do you normally dream about, Marcie?"

"Y'know. Normal stuff. School, work ... boys."

"Do you ever dream about me?"

"Not really, no."

"But you could, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay. Hypothetical for you. You have a dream. It's about me. I'm holding a collar, and it's got your name on it..."

This was another one of the fantasies that Marcie had shared with me. I wished I had the same access to Lucy's fantasies, but she still refused to tell me the specifics of what she thought about when she masturbated.

I continued to tell Marcie her own sexual fantasy, but as a dream, with me as the central character. I reached the end - her breathing was heavy, and a crimson flush was creeping up her neck.

" ... and we turn around, to see your entire church staring at us. You're super embarrassed, but I don't stop. Just as you're about to cum ... you wake up."

She slumped in disappointment, and I quickly continued, not wanting to lose the momentum.

"You wake up, and I'm there, in real life. I ask you if you want to fuck. You say ... yes."

As I'd expected, there was a lot of twitching. I don't know why Marcie had such a specific block when it came to going all the way, but I'd found it extremely useful - it was a handy limit that I could use to wake her up when needed.

Just as I was sure she was finally going to answer "yes", her eyes fluttered, and focussed on me. She looked disoriented for a second, but then her eyes flickered down to the tent in my pants.

"Oh hey you..." she said with a wink, and a few minutes later, those beautiful lips of hers were wrapped around my cock.

Session B16:

The next session had been more of the same, but I'd been careful to describe it as a recurring dream. "Every night," I think I said.

See, I still haven't worked out a way to give anyone direct commands, except for when they're under. If someone would blow me in real life, I can get them to do it when they're hypnotized ... but I can't say "Hey, when you're awake, you'll have a desire to wear a bikini 24/7."

I only have power over their subconscious, for whatever reason, and even then it's only to get them to do stuff that they'd already do. Anything that's believable is possible, but only in specific circumstances.

But that had got me thinking ... what if I could control their subconscious, even when they were "awake"? And it was that train of thought that had led me to dreams...

Now I don't know how powerful dreams are in other people ... especially girls. But I can tell you, there have been a few times when I've woken up from a particularly hot dream with a hard-on for something I'd never be into. I once dreamt that Lucy had a foot fetish, and for the next few days, I found myself getting off to more than a few pictures of girls getting off on feet.

It didn't last long, but all I needed to do was plant a seed. And Marcie had just proven to me that the seed was able to be planted.

"What did you dream about?" I asked, and sat back for the next few minutes as Marcie told me a lewd series of fantasies that involved me fucking her in the front of a classroom, on a golf course, and in some rare owl sanctuary, of all places.

None of these, I should point out, were dreams that I'd planted. I just told her that she had sexual dreams about me all the time, and her kinky brain had done the rest. But the ultimate question was still ahead of me:

Would it work on my sister?


	Chapter 6

Session 18:

“Would you tell me what you dream about?”

“Yes.”

“What do you dream about?”

“When?”

Damn it, Lucy. Marcie was so much more obedient, in so many ways. If Lucy was half as pliable as Marcie, I’d have been fucking her a long time ago.

Though I had to admit—the challenge was half the fun.

“What did you dream about last night?”

“I don’t really remember many of the details. I think I bought a dog, or found a dog, or something like that. And I was taking it past a bakery, or maybe just a windmill, when we found something and I had to end up leaving it there for some reason.”

Wow. You know how listening to people’s dreams is boring? Add a monotone. I was half-tempted to get her to take her top off, just to give me something interesting to look at, but I didn’t know how she was going to react to my next move, and having her wake up topless would be pretty tricky to explain.

“Do you ever dream about me?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“Would you tell me the dreams?”

“Yes.”

I asked for details. Of course I asked for details. And even as I did, I regretted it. The next few minutes consisted of a series of half-stories, some of which I only appeared in once. None of them, of course, were sexual. When she was done, I tried to shake off the boredom and kept going with my plan.

“Would you talk to me about sexual dreams?”

There was a long pause, but she eventually answered.

“Yes.”

I think our sessions had actually been good for my sister, in a way—she’d really loosened up a lot.

“Would you talk to me about any sexual dreams you have involving me?”

“No.”

“What was the last sex dream you had?”

I won’t share the details, but it was equally vague and incomprehensible—apparently Lucy doesn’t dream in vivid detail, or focus on the physical sensations very much.

That was about to change.

“Hypothetical: you’re dreaming about me.”

Nod.

“You’re having an extremely sexy, erotic dream about me.”

The immediacy of her nod gave me a lot of hope.

“You’re jerking me off, and you’re topless.”

Nod.

“We’re not in the hospital though—we’re in the living room. You’re stroking my cock, just like you have 34 to 37 times before. You’re stroking my cock, and staring at it. You can see the veins, you can feel it throb in your hand. You know that I’m about to cum, and you’re looking forward to it. You can’t wait to feel me cum, feel my cock pulse in your hand, and watch me spurt.”

Nod. Her breathing was slightly heavier, and she showed no sign of resistance. This dreams angle really seemed to be the way to go.

“You’re topless, and you can feel the air conditioning on your nipples. Your nipples are hard, and your breasts are cold. Your hand can feel my warm, hard cock—it’s so thick and excited. It’s going to blow soon, you can feel it ... and you want it to blow on your chest. You want me to cum on your chest so bad—you want to feel the contrast of my warm, salty semen on your cold, smooth chest.

“You want me to coat your breasts with my seed. You want to feel me cum on your tits, paint them, mark you as my property. You’re so turned on by the idea—it’s the sexiest, most erotic idea that you’ve ever had.

“You start talking dirty to me, telling me how much you want me to blow my load on your breasts, how wrong and sexy it would be. You lean forward, you’re about to put your mouth on my cock when you feel my orgasm approaching.

“Leaning back, you feel me spurt onto your huge tits, and you love it. It’s so hot that it makes you cum as well, without even touching yourself. We’re just sitting there, cumming together, two siblings sharing an orgasm, two siblings getting each other off...”

She hasn’t said anything, but the familiar flush was creeping up her neck.

“You wake up, and you realize that this is a dream you’ve had before. It’s a dream you’ve been having every night, and you’ll probably keep on having it. It’s a sexy, erotic dream, and you wake up super turned on.”

Nod. I take a deep breath—Marcie went for this next bit, but I’ve got no idea if Lucy will buy it.

“You lay back in bed, and play with yourself, thinking about the sexy dream you’ve just had...”

She was tempted. I know she was tempted, because she didn’t say anything for a record time. Well, I wasn’t timing, but it definitely felt like a record time—we just sat there in silence for ages, her breathing heavy, her skin flushed, her eyes staring wide and glassy at me.

Finally, she broke the tension, with a confused look, and a question.

“Wh ... what time is it?”

Session 19: I gave it a full week before checking in with Lucy again. In that time, I can tell you ... I made good use of Marcie. I think she came over every day, and it was always the same—we’d get naked, I’d go down on her for a bit, she’d go down on me for a bit, and then I’d cum on her tits.

I honestly don’t know why I was so obsessed with the idea ... maybe because it was the closest to a genuinely dirty act that I’d actually managed to get. Sure, my sister thought she’d jerked me off a few dozen times, but she did that purely out of kindness. Her tits?

If she just wanted to hide my cum, there were plenty of other options. A pocket, her back, even a tissue. Suggesting that I cum on her tits ... that’s a sure sign of sexual interest if there ever was one.

Lucy waking up when she did hadn’t been part of my plan, but it worked just fine. We’d been in the middle of a hypothetical about a recurring dream, and that was exactly what I wanted. I made sure to stay away from her room in the morning—I wanted to make sure she had total privacy, just in case a week full of dreams pushed her over the edge, and she wanted to relive them and play with herself.

I didn’t even hypnotize her again—there was always the risk that she’d link me putting her under to the strange dreams she’d been having, and that would really put a crimp in my plans.

There was just one thing that I changed about my behaviour—I started approaching her every time I masturbated. Well, with Marcie around, I didn’t really need to jerk off that often, so I just picked a couple of random times each day, and thanked her.

She was casual (if a little curt) in response, but more than once I saw a slight blush hit her ears when I thanked her.

I was getting close to something good. I knew it.

A week later, when I finally put her under again, I didn’t dance around.

“Will you tell me what you’ve been dreaming about lately?”

“ ... no.”

Jackpot.

Session A10:

“Hypothetical: you have a dream about me and Lucy having sex.”

Shake.

“You have an erotic dream about me...”

Shake. Before I could even finish the sentence.

“You have an erotic dream about Lucy?”

Shake.

Stupid incorruptible mother.

Session 19:

“Okay,” I started. I had a plan—there were some loose threads from previous sessions, and I was hoping that I could weave them into a perfect net. “So, hypothetical: ever since you jerked me off at the hospital, you’ve been having erotic dreams about me.”

Nod. Thank goodness—the whole plan hinged on that.

“About six months after I leave the hospital, after you’ve talked me through jerking off a bunch of times... —”

“Five.”

“Right, five. About six months after that, we go for a family vacation in a trailer park.”

Nod. She’d mentioned a trailer park vacation a few times—in relation to discussing masturbation habits with me, if I recalled correctly, and so I figured that was as good a starting place as any.

“We’re there for a super long time though—2 weeks, maybe more.”

Nod.

“The whole time we’re there, you keep having sex dreams about me—super erotic dreams, about jerking me off, or about me masturbating while you watch. In the dreams, you want me to cum on your tits. So, so much.”

Nod. Access to her real-life subconscious was making this so, so much easier.

“But because we’re in a trailer, you can’t masturbate to release the tension. Mom’s planned the activities in such a way that either we’re all together, or it’s just you and her.”

Nod.

“Oh, and the public toilets there are really rank, so you can’t use them or anything like that.”

Nod. If the last trailer park was any indication, that was an utterly believable situation.

“After a few days, you notice that I’m really antsy. Now, you know that I normally jerk off a lot, and so you quickly work out what’s bothering me.”

Nod. Appeal to the ego—that’s the key to my sister’s mind.

“What do you say?”

“Hey,” Lucy said, a soft smile in her voice. “I know that this must be hard for you—if you like, I can leave you alone for a bit, so you can ... y’know. Take care of yourself.”

“I tell you that I’d really appreciate it, and thank you.”

Nod.

“Okay, Mom leaves, and it’s just you and me in the trailer.”

Nod.

“You go to leave, but the weather is woeful—if you were to go outside, you’d be soaking wet, cold, and miserable. What do you do?”

“I apologize, and tell you that I’m going to have to stay after all.”

“I tell you that I really, really need this—that it’s been so long that I feel like I’m going to burst.”

Nod. I’m starting to suspect that my sister doesn’t really know much how male masturbation works.

“It’s so bad outside—it looks like a blizzard might even be starting. What do you do?”

There was a long pause, as Lucy weighed up her options. Finally, her bleeding heart won out.

“I tell you that I don’t mind if you masturbate while I’m there, and I go and put my iPod in.”

“Your iPod broke a few days ago.”

“What? What broke it?”

Even through her monotone, I could tell that Lucy was annoyed. She uses her iPod all the time.

“It ... it’s just out of charge. You forgot to bring the charger, and you’ve been using it heaps, to tune out Mom’s boring lectures about the local birds.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I offer to read instead, to distract myself.”

“So you’re reading on one side of the trailer, and I’m masturbating on the other side. It’s rocking the whole trailer, and you can hear my grunts and moans. You can hear my breathing as I stroke my cock.”

Even though her eyes were completely blank, it still looked like they lost focus for a second, before she nodded.

“It’s just like your dreams. It’s such a small trailer that you can hear every noise I make—the sound of my hand slowly pumping up and down my cock, my sharp breaths. It reminds you of all the times you jerked me off, all the times you watched me. The trailer creaks as it rocks back and forth. You get more and more turned on as I get myself off—it lasts around an hour, slowly speeding up, until finally you hear me cry out in pleasure as I cum...”

The flush was back. Lucy nodded, and I could again see her legs slowly rubbing against each other.

“When I’m done, I zip my pants up, and come over to thank you. What do you say?”

“No ... no problems, bro.”

It was hard not to laugh at that—she was trying to speak calmly, but I could sense a bit of breathiness in her voice, and I could tell that in her mind, she was really there, having just listened to me masturbate for an hour, while she sat there unfulfilled.

Session A13:

“Do you believe that there is ever any situation where incest is acceptable?”

“No.”

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to ask that before. When I was just starting, I would have seen that as an impenetrable barrier ... but I know now that it’s just a limit.

And limits can be moved.

Session 41:

“Why do you exist?”

“To be my brother’s slut.”

“Why does your pussy exist?”

“To hold my brother’s cock.”

“Why do your hands exist?”

“To milk my brother when he wants it.”

“Why does your mouth exist?”

“To get my brother off.”

“Why do your tits exist?”

“To let my brother cum on them.”

“Why does Mom exist?”

“To be my brother’s slave.”

“Good girl.”

Session 19:

“There’s a bit of a pause after I come, and I ask if you’d mind me going again. What do you say?”

“Really??” my sister exclaimed. Her voice was breathy, incredulous, and, I’m pretty sure, a little bit turned on. “Again? After that?”

“I tell you that I ... I’m really backed up. What do you do?”

“I refuse. Once is enough.”

“I beg. I tell you that I really need this. What do you say?”

“No! Absolutely enough. I don’t think I could ... allow you to do that again.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. I suspect that trying to probe my sister would be fruitless, and I wanted to make full use of the rest of our half-hour, so I asked the question that I’d been building to all session.

“What if I were to say that you could masturbate as well?”

There was a long pause, but I was ready for that. I’d already made a list of dates to fit this vacation into, in case she woke up, and an alternative tactic if she refused ... but after a long, long pause, she replied with one beautiful, beautiful word.

“Okay.”


	Chapter 7

Session 19:

“I start to jerk off again. What do you do?”

“I ... I...”

There was a slight struggle to her voice, like repeating the action was somehow worse than agreeing to it, but after a worrying minute or two of twitching, she settled down, and spoke in her familiar, almost soothing monotone.

“I masturbate as well.”

“You can hear my breathing, you can feel every movement that I make. You’re so used to seeing and feeling me get off that you can tell exactly how I’m feeling, exactly how close I am to cumming.”

I didn’t want to accidentally cross any lines, tell her to think about me jerking off while she played with herself, but I was hoping that by describing my actions in detail, she’d make that leap herself. Combined with the sexual dreams she’d been having about me, it would be the next logical step... 

I hoped.

As I continued describing my own jerking off process, I checked in with her every few minutes, hoping to have a tiny bit more detail slip.

“You can hear the soft sound of my balls slapping against my thighs, as my hand jerks up and down my rock-hard cock. What do you do?”

“I continue to masturbate.”

No dice. Glancing at the clock, I knew I didn’t have too much more time; I’d have to wake her up soon, I’d already gone way over the 30-minute limit. But this had been a huge step forward, and I wanted to see how far I could milk it.

“You hear my orgasm approaching. You can tell that I’m about to cum, that the head of my cock is going to spew cum all over my stomach. You can feel the trailer rocking faster and faster, and any second now, I’m going to blow ... what do you do?”

“I masturbate slightly faster.”

I grinned. I was pretty sure I knew what was about to happen, but there was only way to find out.

“I cum. What do you do?”

My sister’s breathing was heavier than it had ever been during one of our sessions. As she sat in front of me, fully clothed, neither of us having touched each other even once, I knew that to her mind, she’d just listened to me jerk off once, touching herself for the entirety of the second round.

The flush spread to her cheeks, her eyes rolled back, and instead of the monotone I was used to, her next words were emitted in a soft gasp.

“I cum.”

Session A15:

“Hey Mom ... after Lot escapes Sodom and Gommorah, who does he sleep with?”

“His daughters.”

“Is it an evil act?”

“No.”

“How many people survive on the Ark?”

“Noah and his family.”

“Is that everyone?”

“Yes.”

“And how do they replenish the world?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who do they procreate with?”

“Each other.”

Our family’s not really religious—I think Dad might have been, but Mom never really got into it. Until I persuaded Mom to “help me with some homework” by reading select Bible verses, I doubt she’d ever read a religious text in her life.

But she responds well to authority, and it’s hard to find a more authoritative source in modern America than the Bible itself. So I’d done my research, and hoped that I could use this cherry-picked collection of quotes to my advantage.

“Who were the first two humans?”

“Adam and Eve.”

“So their children must have interbred, to create mankind. Right?”

“I suppose so...”

I glanced at the clock. I had enough examples to keep going for the full half-hour... 

Session 20:

“So. Same situation as last time. You listen to me jerk off, and then we masturbate in front of each other. We cum at around the same time. What do you say afterward?”

“Nothing.”

Wasn’t expecting that. Post-orgasm regret, I guess. Fortunately, I had a plan.

“I thank you, and tell you that I’m going to sleep. What do you do?”

“I go to sleep as well.”

“That night, you dream about watching me jerk off while you play with yourself. It’s one of the sexiest dreams that you’ve ever had. But we’re not in the trailer, we’re here, in our living room. We’re playing with ourselves in front of each other, here in the living room, watching each other cum. You wake up turned on and see that Mom’s gone out, and I’m still asleep. What do you do?”

“I...”

I couldn’t help but lean forward.

“I...”

She started ... I dunno, shaking, almost. Vibrating slightly, like she was waging an internal war with herself. Finally, one side won, and she answered in her familiar monotone.

“I play with myself.”

Without even meaning to, I threw one arm up in celebration. All my hours of planning, of running through scenarios, of planting dreams ... it was all coming together. My sister had gone from being disgusted by the very notion of incest to actually playing with herself in front of me (hypothetically, of course) and masturbating after sexy dreams starring me.

Now it was time to see how far I could push it.

“Are your eyes open or closed when you masturbate?”

“Closed.”

That was what I’d expected. Having her stare at me while she came would have been nice, of course, but I suppose it was too much of a leap.

“You play with yourself for twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, when you hear a noise from my side of the trailer. What do you do?”

“I stop moving, and slowly open my eyes.”

“You see me, awake, my hard cock out, slowly stroking myself.”

There was a twitch, and I was suddenly glad that I hadn’t added “staring straight at you.” I quickly tried to do some repair work.

“Remember, you’ve seen this dozens of times. You’ve jerked me off yourself, you’ve watched me cum, and last night you even came at the same as I did. It’s a familiar sight...”

The twitching slowly subsided, and I risked another question.

“What do you do?”

“I...”

The struggle continued. Her cheeks were red, her lip quivering, her eyes still unfocussed, but threatening to snap back into focus at any moment.

“I ... I keep masturbating.”

This time, I threw both arms up in celebration. My sister’s subconscious felt like it was mine to rewrite as I liked. In her mind, the two of us had an unspoken agreement about simultaneous masturbation. She’d accepted it as a normal part of life.

I was starting to think that there was no limit that I couldn’t smash through, no part of my sister’s mind that I couldn’t control.

Session 41:

“What would you do if I wanted to knock you up?”

“I’d be excited that you were using me however you wanted.”

“What would you do if I wanted to sell your body on the street?”

“I’d be excited to serve you in a new and different way.”

“What would you do if I fucked you in your sleep?”

“I’d be grateful that I could bring you pleasure even when unconscious.”

“What would you do if I wanted to watch you seduce Mom?”

“I’d try to make sure it was as hot as possible.”

“What would you do if I told you to fuck a dog?”

“I’d get off on knowing that I was fulfilling my brother’s every sick fantasy.”

Session 20: There were a few different ways that I could play this, but I decided to save them for our next session, and just reinforce what we’d established.

“The next morning, you wake up from another erotic dream. Mom has already left. When you glance over, you see I’m already jerking off. What do you do?”

“I ... I masturbate.”

I could tell that was a hard one for Lucy to admit, but I powered on. I had some momentum going, and I wanted to take full advantage of my sister’s arousal while I could.

“We’ve been playing with ourselves in our separate beds for more than twenty minutes. You’re getting closer and closer to orgasm, and you can tell that I’m nearly there as well. You’re so incredibly turned on, ready to cum ... when you sense a change in my movement. What do you do?”

“I glance over to you.”

“When you do, you see that I’m staring at you. One of my hands is wrapped around my cock, slowly pumping up and down, the other is playing with my balls. You remember the feel of my balls, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You remember bringing me pleasure, all those dozens of times, don’t you sis?”

“I do.”

“You see that I’m getting off while staring straight at you. Your pussy is soaked, your arousal is at an all-time high. You’re only a few minutes away from cumming, and you know that if you don’t keep going, you’ll be sexually frustrated all day.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I ... I keep on masturbating.”

“Do you look away?”

“Yes.”

“When you look away, you can feel me slowing down again. The trailer isn’t rocking as hard as it was, the sexual energy feels like it’s dipped. You can tell that I’m not on the cusp of getting off any more. The rhythm is gone, it’s not as good. What do you do?”

My sister’s face was bright red now. I was pretty sure it was a combination of arousal, and embarrassment at her own perverted actions—a guess that was confirmed when she managed to blush even harder with her next answer.

“I look back over at you.”

“When we make eye contact, I speed up again. You can tell that the connection is helping me get off—you’re making my orgasm better, you’re helping me jerk off. You’re helping me out by looking at me.”

In my research in pushing through these last few barriers, I’d done a lot of reading about conditioning and the like—this was a simple reward kind of scenario. If she connected with me, we both got off. If she didn’t, the sexual energy wasn’t as strong.

I hadn’t been 100% sure if it would work, but I think my sister was too turned on to completely comprehend what she was doing. She was aware that it was taboo, but I think the dreams I’d implanted had been a big step in turning that taboo into something sexy.

“What do you do?”

“I keep on staring at you.”

“A few minutes later, I’m on the verge of cumming again. What do you do?”

“I ... I...”

“You cum.”

“I cum.”

I breathed a big sigh of relief, and Lucy did the same. I had a few more minutes before I had to wake her up, but I allowed her to enjoy a few seconds of bliss before I continued.

“That night, Mom goes out. Without a word, I stare at you and pull out my hard cock. What do you do?”

“ ... nothing.”

“I start to stroke it, up and down. What do you do?”

“I put my hand down my pants and start to play with myself.”

“Do you keep eye contact with me?”

“Yes.”

“The next morning, you wake up from another erotic dream about me. I’m still asleep. What do you do?”

“I start to play with myself.”

“I wake up, and turn to see you staring at me.”

Nod.

“I start to play with myself as well. What do you do?”

“I keep on masturbating.”

“Every morning and every night, for the rest of the trip, whenever Mom’s out of the trailer, I jerk off. What do you do?”

“I join in.”

Session A16:

“Is sex between cousins incest?”

“Yes.”

“Did you know that President Roosevelt married his cousin?”

“No.”

“He did.”

That was actually true. Sure, it was his fifth cousin or something like that, but it was still a fact.

“President Roosevelt married his cousin. Repeat it after me.”

“President Roosevelt married his cousin.”

“The eighth president also married his cousin. Repeat that.”

“The eighth president also married his cousin.”

“Do you think it’s stupid to participate in incest?”

“Yes.”

“Albert Einstein married his cousin. Repeat that back to me.”

“Albert Einstein married his cousin.”

“Is Albert Einstein stupid?”

“No...”

“Then it can’t be stupid to marry your cousin, can it?”

“I suppose not.”

“So sometimes incest is okay, isn’t it?”

“Well ... yes. Between cousins it can be. But between siblings it’s still wrong.”

God damn it.

Session 21: I sat down in front of my hypnotized sister, a smile on my face. I had worked out a way to build off the last session’s progress, and I was excited to start.

“So, hypothetical from last week. We masturbated in front of each other twice a day, every day we were at the trailer park.”

Nod.

“We started making eye contact while we did, and we almost always came at the same time.”

Nod.

“When we get home, you find that masturbating by yourself, in your room just isn’t the same.”

Nod. Phew. That made it a lot easier.

“You keep on having sexual dreams about me—you relive those moments when we made eye contact and masturbating in front of each other.”

Nod.

“You wake up and masturbate after each one.”

Nod. I suppose now that I’d “seen it”, it wasn’t quite the embarrassing secret it had once been.

“One day, we’re hanging out in the living room, watching TV or something.”

Nod.

“The show ends—it’s a rerun of The Lucy Show—and I turn the TV off and turn to you.”

Nod.

“I have a serious look on my tone, and ask you if you’ve been having trouble cumming as well, and if you want to jerk off in front of each other again. What do... —”

“Wow! I swear, you’re getting better at this. I feel like a million bucks.”


	Chapter 8

Session B20:

I have absolutely no idea what woke my sister up. In the past, she’d only woken up when I told her to do something that she wouldn’t do ... I hadn’t even been in the middle of an instruction, just setting up a scenario.

After a few days of constantly questioning myself, I decided to focus my mind on something else. I decided to play with Marcie, instead.

Marcie had become a great release for me—every time my sexual frustration grew to be too much, I’d just call or text her, and she’d come around and get me off. I’d cum onto her tits dozens of times, and into her mouth even more than that. But I still hadn’t managed to crack that final barrier and fuck her ... It was time for that to change.

“Will you tell me your thoughts on sexual intercourse?”

“Sure.”

“What are your thoughts on sexual intercourse?”

“It’s a big deal.”

“How so?”

“You should only go all the way with someone you’re really serious about, y’know?”

“Will you tell me why you won’t go all the way with me?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why won’t you go all the way with me?”

“Because we’re just fooling around.”

Interesting. It would be easy enough to have Marcie really fall for me, but a whole lot of baggage came along with that which I wasn’t really interested in dealing with. Marcie was fun, don’t get me wrong, but I really wasn’t interested in her in that way, and if I gave her feelings that I didn’t reciprocate ... well, I had no interest in needless cruelty.

As well as a fun friend-with-benefits, Marcie was also extremely useful as a test subject, and this seemed like an interesting challenge. Could I get her so turned on that she’d want to fuck me, even without us becoming “more serious”. After all, if I couldn’t do it with Marcie, I’d never be able to do it with my sister... 

“What do you think about when you masturbate?”

“Lots of things.”

“What did you think about last time you masturbated?”

“A guy owning me, making me wear a collar 24/7, and taking me whenever he felt the urge.”

That was one of Marcie’s more common fantasies.

“Do you ever masturbate thinking about me?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

“What did you think about last time you did?”

“I thought about going down on you, but you grab my head and really use me. You’re basically fucking my face.”

Hot. But not useful.

“Do you ever think about me fucking you when you masturbate?”

“No. Well, except my face. And sometimes my tits.”

Marcie had, don’t get me wrong, nice tits ... but they weren’t really big enough to fuck. Interesting choice of fantasy.

“What did you dream about last night?”

“I dreamt that you were a dragon, and that you burned down my village and then fucked me on the ashes.”

I don’t even try to understand my fuck-buddy’s subconscious. I was tempted to ask how she knew it was me if I was a dragon, but immediately decided that it wasn’t worth it.

“Do you ever masturbate after having a sex dream about me?”

“I don’t really like to masturbate in the morning.”

She was dreaming about me fucking her, and she was masturbating while thinking about me doing everything but. If there was a way to combine the two, I knew I’d be at least a couple of steps closer, but I’d never managed to actually control someone’s real-life actions. All I could do was change their dreams, or alter their memories ... and the second option was way, way too risky.

I sat and thought for a few minutes, but a plan didn’t spring to mind so I woke her up and we fooled around for about half an hour. At one point, I grabbed her head and fucked her face, just like she’d fantasized about. She looked at me in surprise, but seemed to really get into it.

Session B26:

“Beg me.”

“Please ... please fuck me.”

“No, I mean really beg.”

“Please. I’ll do anything...”

“You’ll already do anything.”

“I need it. I need to feel your cock in me. Please!”

I smiled, flipped Marcie over, and sunk my cock inside of her.

Session A17:

“What do you know about Genetic Sexual Attraction?”

“Just what the articles said.”

Again, feigning assignment, I’d had Mom do some reading.

“What is it?”

“When a pair of related people meet in adulthood and find themselves sexually attracted to each other.”

“Do you think that’s wrong?”

“Well...”

There was a slight twitch, but it quickly went away.

“No, I suppose not.”

“What if they’re brother and sister?”

Again, the twitch returned. I sat there in silence for a few minutes, watching my mother’s eye twitch and jerk, before she calmed down and answered.

“No.”

“So just to clarify—if two consenting adult siblings are sexually attracted to each other, you don’t have a problem with that?”

“Not if they weren’t raised together, no.”

One step at a time ... Session B21: Getting my sister to think about me while she played with herself had been a huge step forward—I figured it was worth experimenting with the same thing on Marcie.

“What did you think about last time you masturbated?”

“You.”

That was a pleasant surprise. We’d last gotten together only a few days ago. It was nice that she was thinking about me.

“What specifically did you think about?”

“I thought about how rough you were last time we hooked up.”

“Hypothetical: if we were hooking up, and I ordered you to spread your legs so I could fuck you, what would you do?”

“I would refuse.”

“Would you be turned on?”

“ ... yes.”

It was a long shot, but it had given me something to work from.

“Hypothetical: last time we hooked up, I told you to bend over and let me fuck you.”

Nod.

“You refused, but the idea stuck in your mind, and when you played with yourself, you thought about what it would be like if I actually fucked you.”

Twitch. Pause. Nod.

“From now on, whenever you play with yourself, you’ll think about me fucking you.”

Nod.

“You’ll use your dreams as inspiration.”

Nod.

“You’ll wonder what my cock feels like, slowly sliding into your pussy. You’ll wonder if you can cum just from the feeling of me entering you. You’ll get yourself off imagining the two of us copulating, in all kinds of wrong and dirty positions.”

Nod. And now to make it (Marcie’s) reality... 

“You’ll ... I dunno ... call me up after you’ve finished playing with yourself, and ask me to come around.”

Nod. Damn it.

“And then you’ll ask me to fuck you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as she began twitching and jerking, until finally she blinked twice, and looked around, slightly confused.

“Oh ... hey! I was ... I was just thinking about you.”

“I want to fuck you,” I said with a sly grin, and though she shook her head playfully, I could see the look of lust in her eyes at the idea.

Session 22: Finally, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had spent days trying to work out what had woken my sister up, but nothing was jumping out at me. It didn’t make any sense. So I decided to go straight to the source, and ask her.

When I offered to hypnotize her, she leapt at the chance. Her and Marcie (and, increasingly, Mom) really seemed to like being put under. Maybe it’s a female thing—giving up control. Maybe the hypnosis is just genuinely relaxing.

Hell, maybe it’s because of the pleasurable thoughts that I place in their heads. Sex is one of the biggest human drives, after all.

“Lucy,” I started. “I’m going to give you a hypothetical scenario ... let me know if anything strikes you as unbelievable. Okay?”

“Yes.”

“We’ve been staying in a trailer park for two weeks.”

Silence.

“Every day, we masturbated in front of each other...”

Silence.

“ ... at least twice a day...”

Still nothing.

“ ... while staring at each other.”

Zero response. Great. She’s fine with that end of things.

“When you get back, you have deeply erotic sex dreams about me every night...”

Zip.

“ ... and each morning, you wake up and masturbate after them.”

Nada.

“While thinking about me.”

A slight twitch, but otherwise no response.

“One day, we’re in this room, hanging out...”

She didn’t move.

“I turn to you, and ... I talk about what happened.”

Shake. Got it. She’s not okay with me talking about it. But why?

“What about that strikes you as out of the ordinary?”

“What we did was wrong,” she says in monotone, her blank eyes staring straight into mine. “And I’m responsible.”

My eyebrows shot up, but I didn’t say anything.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to be the one to bring it up. You should be wracked with guilt, like ... like I am.”

A tiny part of my heart melted at that, but for the most part, I was just relieved that I understood what happened. She was okay with doing what we were doing, she just didn’t want to openly discuss it. When she’d been jerking me off in the hospital, it had been an act of compassion—a favor for her little brother. Now there was no excuse—it was just two horny teens enjoying themselves, and she couldn’t justify it.

She hadn’t woken up from a hypothetical before, but I’d pushed it pretty hard. I made a mental note: go slowly, always make sure she has time to react.

After all, I was in no hurry.

“Okay,” I said. She had a problem with me leading the charge? I was confident that I could come up with a way for her to be the one pushing us forward. “Hypothetical—we went to a trailer park, masturbated in front of each other twice a day, every day, and when we got home your masturbation just isn’t as good as it was before.”

Nod.

“One day, you’re passing my room, and you ... you hear sobs coming from within.”

Nod.

“You knock on the door, and I tell you to go away.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I open the door.”

Never before have I been so pleased by my sister’s lack of respect for privacy.

“You find me naked, holding my cock, practically crying.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I ... I...”

“Remember, this is not an unfamiliar sight. You’ve watched me jerk off dozens of times by now, and you’ve jerked me off yourself.”

“I walk in and ask you what’s wrong.”

“I look up, shocked, and cover myself up.”

I learned a long time ago that in order to push someone’s limits, you have to fit events into their version of reality. In my sister’s version of reality, I apparently feel hugely guilty about everything we’ve done. I’m practically a wreck. Part of it is obviously projection, part of it is ... her high opinion of me, I guess.

But she wants to be the one making the moves, which is just fine by me.

“I tell you to get out. You close the door and go and sit in the lounge room.”

Nod.

“You’re sitting exactly where you are now, and I come and sit where I am now.”

Nod.

“The lights are on...” They were. “Mom isn’t due home for another hour or two.” She’s not. “I tell you that I have something to say, but make you promise not to laugh, or think I’m a freak. What do you do?”

“I promise.”

“I slowly, nervously tell you that since we left the trailer park, I haven’t been able to cum.”

Nod. Like I’ve said before, I really don’t think my sister knows much about male masturbation. I’d convinced her that I’d had troubles before, and this was just building on that.

“I’m clearly embarrassed to have to tell you this.”

Nod.

“What do you say?”

“It’s okay, bro.” Lucy said, her normal voice surprising me, as it always did. “I ... god, I’ll kill you if you tell anyone this, but ... I’ve been having troubles too.”

I smiled at that. I’d told her that her alone time hadn’t been as good, but I’d never mentioned anything about being unable to cum. She was stretching the truth, purely to make hypothetical me feel better.

“I sigh, and start to say something, but go red and clam up.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I tell you to tell me. I assure you that there’s nothing you can’t ask, nothing you can’t tell me.”

This was it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for.

“Slowly, stammeringly, I ask you if we could do what we did in the trailer park. Just one more time.”

There was a pause, and though she didn’t twitch or show any signs of waking up, my sister’s cheeks slowly reddened.

“What do you say?”

“Sure,” she said simply, and didn’t move a muscle as I began to undo my pants.

Session A18:

“If Lucy and I had only met when we were 18, would it be wrong for us to be attracted to each other?”

“ ... no, I suppose not.”

“Would it be wrong for us to act on that attraction?”

“Well ... I...”

There was a long pause, so I added some more detail.

“What if you introduced us on my 18th birthday. We got along straight away, and you were impressed by how quickly we became close. You leave us, talking, and when you come downstairs for a midnight snack, you find the two of us making out.”

I spaced out myself for a second there. That did sound nice.

“Would that be wrong?”

“I ... well...”

There was another long pause, while the cogs whirred in my mother’s head. For a second I worried that she was going to wake up—accidentally erasing 18 years of memory would have been a hell of a difficulty to explain away.

Fortunately, she eventually answered.

“No, I ... I suppose that wouldn’t be ... that wouldn’t be wrong.”

Everyone has limits. And no matter how long it takes, or how slowly you have to go, those limits can always, always be pushed.

Session 22: I didn’t want to risk making my sister take her top off, tempting though it was. Without it being specifically part of the scenario, there was always the chance that it would jolt her out of it. And with my dreams literally coming true, I was not prepared to do anything to take that risk.

My hard cock in my hand, I sat back, and stared at my hypnotized sister as I slowly pumped it. Unprompted, her glassy eyes staring at me all the while, she’d unbuttoned her jeans, and though I couldn’t see exactly what was happening, I knew that she was getting herself off.

It was happening. It was actually happening.

It wasn’t long at all before I was ready to cum. Perhaps it was my high level of arousal messing with my brain, or maybe the horniness had given me some higher level of focus, but I remembered an earlier scenario, and in a breathy voice, I set up something similar.

“Lucy,” I panted. “Just as I’m about to cum, I hear Mom coming home early.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t twitch, and she never stopped playing with herself.

“If she walks in and sees my cum, she’ll know what happened. I need to hide my cum somewhere.”

Possibly because of her own state of arousal, Lucy accepted this without question, and when she nodded, I continued.

“I ask you if I can cum in your mouth. What do you say?”

“No,” she said, not even indignant. Her hand slightly sped up at the suggestion, and I wondered if the idea turned her on.

“I ask you if I can cum somewhere on your skin. What do you say?”

“Yes,” she panted, and that time I know I saw a twitch. But I could remember how this had played out last time, and I continued to slowly pump my hard cock as I spoke.

“Can I cum on your tits?”

“Yes,” my sister said, “I’ll let you cum on my tits.”

I smiled, and told her to expose herself to me. She didn’t take her shirt off, as I’d hoped, just pulled her top down, exposed her copious cleavage, and gave me a more than generous target.

Everything about that moment was turning me on, but nothing as much as what Lucy had just said. Her eyes were blank, her voice was a dull monotone, and as she sat in front of me, I knew that she was completely under my control. Once, she would have been repulsed even by the idea of what was about to happen, but now ... she wanted it.

I stood up, gave my cock those last few pumps, and came onto my sister’s tits. As I did, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she came as well, two incestuous siblings getting off together, one orgasm triggering another.

Without waking her up, I told her to go and clean up. She obeyed without question, and when she returned, I made sure that there was no trace of my offerings before I woke her up.

“Thanks, bro,” she said with a grin. “We’ll have to do that again some time! It’s been too long.”

“Yes we will,” I answered, happily returning her hug. “Soon...”


	Chapter 9

Lick. Lick. Lick.

I smiled as I glanced down at my sister, who was dutifully on her knees, licking my cock. For whatever reason, actually taking my cock into her mouth crossed the line ... but she was fine with licking it.

The sight alone would probably have been enough to get me off, but the feeling of her soft, wet tongue moving up and down my shaft, the way she swirled it around my head and stimulated the little spot right between the base and the head... 

“Now,” I moaned, and she looked up at me with a smile, opening her mouth and catching my cum.

“Thank you,” she said softly after swallowing my load, and I nodded before putting my cock away, handing her some water (to wash the taste out of her mouth) and waking her up.

Session 23: You would think that finally getting to live out my fantasy, finally getting to cum on my sister’s tits—not in a hypothetical, not in the abstract, but actually doing it—you’d think that would have been enough to satiate me for a while.

But it just made me hungry for more.

Don’t get me wrong, cumming on Lucy’s huge, soft boobs was a dream come true. I loved every second of it, and couldn’t wait until we could repeat the experience, but I wanted more. I wanted to fuck them. I wanted to fuck her—her face, her pussy, her ass. I wanted to turn my sister into my own personal sex slave, wet and willing to do anything I asked.

And, more and more, I was starting to believe that it was achievable. I’d already come so far ... in just 22 sessions I’d convinced my sister to talk to me while I jerked off, to masturbate in front of me as I did the same, and I’d even started to control her dreams and sexual fantasies. I’d seduced her best friend, and I had managed to plant memories in my sister’s brain—memories of her jerking me off while I lay in hospital, and even when I got home.

In my sister’s mind, she’d seen me cum thirty-four to thirty-seven times.

In real life? Only twice. But I knew what I was doing now. I’d pushed past more limits than I’d ever thought possible, and there were so many more to go—I still hadn’t managed to touch my sister, or convinced her to touch me. And no matter what I did, I hadn’t been able to affect her waking life—except for letting me say “thank you” after I masturbated, our relationship was the same as it had ever been (if a tiny bit more open about sex).

So when I sat my sister down for another session, after having finally cum on those glorious breasts of hers, I didn’t repeat the experience. I didn’t even get her topless.

I got straight to work.

“Hypothetical—we’re jerking off in front of each other in the living room, Mom comes home, and you let me cum on your tits.”

Nod.

“What does it feel like?”

“It feels warm. Hot, I guess. And slippery.”

“Does it turn— ... would you tell me if it turned you on?”

“No.”

A warm blush began to rise on my sister’s face. A part of me wanted to laugh—she’ll masturbate in front of me, cum as I ejaculate onto her tits ... but she won’t talk about whether or not she finds it hot, even though she clearly does.

Like I’ve said before, everyone has limits. I don’t know where they come from, but the more you understand them, the easier they are to move.

“Would you tell me if it turned you on if I came in your mouth?”

A potentially confusing question, but Lucy is pretty bright, and answered almost immediately.

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it turned you on to think about jerking me off?”

“No.”

I was pretty sure that a “no” in this scenario meant that yes, it turned her on, but I figured it was worth checking. I wanted to move forward with as much information as possible.

“Would you tell me if ... I dunno, if my ass turns you on?”

“Yes.”

“Does my ass turn you on?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if my cock turned you on?”

There wasn’t even the tiniest of pauses before she responded.

“No.”

Even in her hypnotized state, as my sister monotoned and stared straight at me, her face twitched, as though she wanted to glance down at my pants, and that familiar flush appeared on her ears. Yeah, I was pretty sure that her denials were actually confirmations.

“Would you tell me what you think of me?”

“In what sense?”

“Would you tell me what you think of me sexually?”

“No.”

Good sign.

“Would you tell me what you think of Mom, sexually?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of Mom sexually?”

“I think she’s an attractive woman for her age, but I have no physical attraction to her myself.”

Tempting though it was to see if I could play with that, I had an agenda. I wanted to get my sister sleeping with me, before I turned to the perhaps-impossible task of getting her to hook up with Mom.

Oh, fuck. I could picture it now ... Lucy’s huge boobs coming into contact with Mom’s equally-mammoth mammaries. If I died before seeing that image come to life, I knew I’d have lived a wasted life.

No, focus. Get inside your sister before you get her inside Mom.

“Siblings should be honest with each other, shouldn’t they?”

“ ... to an extent, yes.”

“To an extent?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“There are circumstances when siblings shouldn’t be honest with each other.”

“Will you tell me what those circumstances are?”

“Yes.”

“When shouldn’t siblings be honest with each other?”

There was a long silence, while Lucy thought. Her incredibly sexy blush never left her face, and I stared at her as she came up with an answer. Finally, just as I was considering skipping the rest of this session and going straight to cumming on her tits instead, she monotoned an answer.

“When one of them is doing something wrong.”

“Why does that matter?”

There was another pause, not nearly as long as the previous one.

“Because being honest could be embarrassing, and it might destroy the relationship.”

Ah ha. She didn’t want to embarrass herself (or maybe me)—I knew just what to do.

“Lucy, who can you trust more than anyone in the world?”

“You.”

I’d already laid the groundwork on this one.

Session 14:

“Why do you like being hypnotized, Lucy?”

“Because it makes me feel free.”

“Why does it make you feel free?”

“I feel like I’ve given someone else control. It’s nice. It’s relaxing.”

“Why is that relaxing, Lucy?”

“Because I don’t have to think.”

“That’s right. You just have to obey, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like obeying?”

“Yes. Sometimes.”

“When do you like obeying, Lucy?”

“When I need to, and it’s someone that I trust.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“You like obeying me because you trust me, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you like being hypnotized?”

“Yes.”

I considered moving on, but wanted to make sure that the thought process was clear.

“Lucy—you enjoy being hypnotized because you trust me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you enjoy being hypnotized”

“Because I trust you.”

“Say it again.”

“I enjoy being hypnotized because I trust you.”

I studied dramatic irony in high school, and I was pretty sure I’d just found a perfect example of it.

“Do you ever let anyone else hypnotize you?”

“No.”

“So you must trust me more than anyone else.”

Pause.

“Is that right?”

“ ... yes.”

“Say it.”

“I trust you more than I trust anyone else.”

“Good girl. Say it again.”

“I trust you more than I trust anyone else.”

“Why do you let me hypnotize you?”

“Because I enjoy it.”

“And why do you enjoy it?”

“Because I trust you.”

Session 23: I knew that if I wanted to get anywhere, I had to get Lucy talking. The more I could get her to tell me, the more info I could get on where she was, the easier it would be to plot my next few steps. I was so close to affecting real life that I could taste it.

So far, I’d only discovered one way to control Lucy in real life: by giving her a hypothetical, waking her up, and making her think that it had actually happened. That was how I’d managed to convince her to let me go up to her and start thanking her every time I masturbated. That was how I’d turned Marcie into my real life sex-toy, as well as using her to get off when I was hypnotized. Lucy and I had even become a bit more open with each other as a result.

No matter how much I got someone to change their mind about something while hypnotized, it didn’t translate to real life. I’d managed to convince Marcie under hypnosis that she should go down on me, but until I altered her memories, she didn’t so much as make a move for my pants. Sure, we made out, but I already knew she was a little bit into me.

BUT—if I could get them to theoretically agree to a change in morals, the change would stick, whenever they were under. That was how I got Lucy to agree to letting me see her topless, or how I first got Marcie to start going down on me. That was how I’d persuaded Lucy to let me cum on her tits. And that, I was sure, was the key to what she was thinking.

“Lucy ... it’s not healthy to bottle secrets up, is it?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you have any secrets?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any secrets, Lucy?”

“Yes.”

Her blush deepened, and I was pretty sure I knew what those secrets were.

“Do you have secrets you won’t tell me?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s dangerous to have secrets, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure how safe these slight rephrasings were—dangerous, after all, is not the same as “not healthy”—but my sister still had her top on, and so worst-case scenario, today would be a shorter session. There was a noticeable hesitation before she responded, and I made a mental note not to push the rephrasing too far.

“ ... yes.”

“Who do you trust most in the world?”

“You.”

“You should tell secrets to people you trust, shouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to bottle your secrets up?”

“No.”

“So you should tell someone, shouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And it makes sense to tell me, the person you trust most in the world ... doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So Lucy ... will you tell me your secrets?”

“No.”

Damn it. My sister was a tough egg to crack. It was a constant struggle to refrain from just stripping her off and watching her masturbate again, but I had to think of how far I’d come ... and how far there was yet to go.

Session 47:

“You’ll want me to fuck you, don’t you Lucy?’ Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

“You want to feel my cock inside you, don’t you?”

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

“Do you play with yourself at night imagining me fucking you?”

Nod. Shudder.

“Are you looking forward to me cumming inside you?”

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

“What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?”

Twitch. Twitch. Shudder.

“Lucy? What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?”

A series of short pants and moans were my only response, as my sister came, her tits bouncing and her cunt clenching repeatedly around my fingers.

Damn it.

Session 23:

“Why won’t you tell me your secrets?”

It was a risky question, but we were running out of time: we were almost at half an hour, and if she was going to wake up, this was as good a time as any for it to happen. It just meant that I wouldn’t get to cum on her tits, which—honestly—I was really looking forward to.

There was a long silence, before she answered softly.

“Because I don’t want you to think I’m a pervert.”

I smiled. That was exactly the answer I’d been hoping for.

“Lucy, do you remember when I told you that I needed help jerking off?”

“Yes.”

“I was super embarrassed, but I told you because I trusted you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think I was a pervert?”

“Well ... no, not really.”

“I took a risk, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“I took a risk because I trusted you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me not to judge you?”

“ ... yes.”

“It’s not healthy to bottle up secrets, is it Lucy?”

“No.”

“And who do you trust most in the world?”

“You.”

“Who should you tell secrets to, Lucy?”

“To ... to someone I trust.”

“So if you were going to tell someone a secret, who would it be?”

“ ... you.”

“And you don’t want to keep your secret to just yourself, do you?”

“No.”

I paused, and took a deep breath.

“What’s your secret, Lucy?”

“I...”

I could definitely have danced around this a bit more, but I was eager to push forward. If I could get her to answer this, I’d still have time to jerk off onto her before we had to wrap things up.

“What’s your secret, Lucy?”

“I...”

There was a long pause, and her eyes fluttered slightly. I tried to arrange my face into an innocent expression, in case she woke up, but after several seconds of silence, my sister’s answer arrived in her familiar monotone.

“ ... I think you’re sexy.”


	Chapter 10

Session B22:

“What did you dream about last night?”

“You fucking me.”

“When did you last masturbate?”

“This morning.”

“What did you think about when you did?”

“You fucking me.”

“Do you find the idea of me fucking you sexy?”

“Yup.”

My sister’s best friend. My favorite test subject; if I wasn’t sure if something would work on Lucy, I came to Marcie first, and tested it out. She was sexually open in every way except actual intercourse, and my next goal was simple—I wanted to find a way to get her past her weird hang-up, and into bed.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

There was a long pause, and a lot of twitching. I just sat and watched Marcie struggle with her desires. On one hand, I knew that she really wanted me to fuck her—on the other hand, she considered it a big step, a commitment of sorts.

I could have stepped in, but I really wanted to see which side won.

“ ... nope,” she finally said. There’d been a risk of her waking up, but I wasn’t worried—I hadn’t started a hypothetical. Her memories were safe.

“Why don’t you want me to fuck you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You don’t love me.”

“Do you love me?”

“No way.”

I know it shouldn’t have—I was literally using her as a play-thing and lab rat—but yeah, that stung a little.

“Why does it matter if I love you?’

“You should only fuck someone if you’re in love.”

I paused for a second, before remembering one of the first hypotheticals that ever worked on Lucy.

“Who do you think is the hottest actor in Hollywood?” I asked, and was surprised when the answer of “Josh Hutcherson” back. I didn’t even know who that was.

“Okay,” I continued, undeterred. “Hypothetical: Josh Hutcherson comes by your house.”

“Yuh huh.”

I had to be careful not to wake her up from this one ... if she started telling people about the time Josh Hutcherson visited her, everyone would think she was crazy.

“He says that he got your email—you wrote him an email—and he thinks you’re gorgeous. You attached a photo.”

I paused, let her process the information, and had to hold back a laugh as a blush spread across her face.

“What do you say?”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my GOD!”

Phew. I was glad I’d done this when no one else was home. I rubbed my ear in pain, and shushed the excited girl.

“If Josh Hutcherson made a move, would you let him fuck you?”

“Of freaking course.” No hesitation there.

“But are you two in love?”

“Not yet.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her optimism.

“So it’s okay to fuck when you’re not in love, right?”

“Right. When it’s Josh freaking Hutcherson.”

Sometimes her slang sounded so strange, coming out of her in a monotone.

“So it’s okay to fuck someone if you’re not in love ... if you think they’re sexy. Right?’

“Well ... yeah. I guess.”

“Yes or no, Marcie?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah ... if you’ve had a crush on them forever.”

I smiled. She’d opened a window; all I needed to do was climb in.

Session B23: I’d spent the rest of our last session implanting memories of a crush that Marcie had had on me forever. It wasn’t hard—perhaps I was just getting better at it. Snippets here, snippets there, tie them all together, and then wake her up slowly and suddenly she believes that she’s been wanting me her whole life. I even managed to tie it into the first time we hypothetically hooked up, altering the memory I’d already implanted, making our first kiss the culmination of years of her desiring me.

Now, to see if all that work had paid off.

“Marcie.”

“Mmm?”

“What did you think about the last time you masturbated?”

“You fucking me.”

“What do you think about every time you masturbate?”

“You fucking me.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Years.”

“How many years?”

“As long as I’ve known you.”

I took a deep breath, and asked the ten thousand dollar question.

“Hypothetical: we’re fooling around. You’ve just started going down on me, and I tap you on the shoulder and ask if I can fuck you. What do you say?”

“Of course.”

It was almost too easy.

* * *

Meanwhile, progress with Mom was slow going. A week or two ago, I’d successfully convinced her that if Lucy and I met as adults, it would be okay for us to hook up. I wasn’t sure exactly where I could go with that, but it felt like a big step forward. I’d spent the next four or five sessions trying to expand on it, but thus far I’d been having no luck.

But I remembered from my early days with Lucy, the only way forward was to play around until you found something that stuck. And so I’d started leading Mom down random alley-ways, turning back each time a hit a dead-end.

Finally, I found something. It wasn’t exactly what I’d been planning, but it was something I could work with.

Session A23:

“Do you still think incest is wrong if it’s between animals?”

“No.”

Not that. That wasn’t what worked. That was just another example of me casting a line and seeing what I could catch.

“Do you think it’s wrong for a brother to be sexually attracted to his sister?”

“Yes.”

“What if she’s really, really hot?”

“It’s still wrong.”

As you can tell, I was getting pretty desperate. I’d started just asking whatever random questions came to mind.

“Would you have a problem if Lucy started wearing short skirts all the time?”

Hell, Lucy would have a problem herself if she started wearing short skirts all the time. But like I said, I was fishing.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

There was a long pause, and I tentatively allowed myself to be hopeful.

“ ... it just wouldn’t be.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile. I’d found a gap. “Would you ever wear a short skirt?”

“No.”

It was true. I’d never seen Mom in anything shorter than a knee-length dress.

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

“Because ... my legs aren’t good enough.”

Interesting. Also, incidentally: false. From what I’d seen of Mom’s legs, she could easily get away with a short skirt. Just the idea of it was enough to get me hard.

“Are Lucy’s legs good enough?”

Another long pause.

“Yes.”

“So why can’t she wear one?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But why not?”

“It just wouldn’t be.”

Mothers. Even through a monotone, I got the distinct “and that’s final” tone from her words. But I wasn’t done yet—there was something here, and I wanted to explore it.

“Okay, hypothetical: what if you had amazing legs. Then would you wear a short skirt?”

(She does have amazing legs, so clearly the issue was in how Mom perceived herself.)

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable in it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d be too aware of myself.”

“Yes,” I said, clearly not understanding the ways of women. “But what if your legs were good enough? What then?”

“I still wouldn’t wear one.”

This had me stumped, and I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

“How could I convince you that you’ve got good legs?”

“You couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t.”

“But...”

Hmmm.

“Okay, how could anyone convince you that you had good legs?”

“They couldn’t.”

For a moment, I wondered if I’d somehow managed to break my mother, but I figured I just didn’t know enough about how the female mind worked. Fortunately, I had a female on-hand who was much more communicative.

Session B25: After she’d hypothetically agreed to having sex with me, I’d fucked Marcie. And then, just to make sure it had worked, I’d woken her up and fucked her again.

The session after that I’d just spent reinforcing everything ... and then yeah, I fucked her some more. Can you blame me?

She was so happy. It was hard not to get a big head, honestly. But what worked on Marcie wouldn’t work on my sister—apart from the whole “incest” barrier, they had completely different drives ... and completely different limits.

Still, it was nice to know that it was hypothetically possible to turn someone around. And the sex—not that I had much to compare it to—was great.

To make sure that she didn’t have a conversation about it with Lucy, I made sure that her crush on me was a secret from everyone, even her best friend. I have no idea what would have happened if she’d tried to talk to my sister about it and been met with shock, as if it was new information.

I was tempted to blow our next session off and just spend our time together thrusting in and out of her—she wouldn’t have said no, I knew that—but I wanted to learn, and so I let Marcie keep her clothes on. At least to start with.

“Marcie ... do you think you’re attractive?”

“Sure. I guess.”

“On a scale of 1-10, where would you rank yourself?”

“About a 7, maybe an 8 on a good day.”

Interesting. Perhaps the fact that I’d convinced her to start worshipping my cock gave me a slight bias, but I’d definitely put Marcie higher than that. I don’t exactly stand by the rating system, but Marcie was easily an 8.5- 9.

The only people I’d put as a 10 were my sister and Mom, so ... yeah. I’m probably not the best person to be ranking girls. Still, it was interesting to see how she saw herself.

“Would you tell me why?”

“I guess.”

“Why?”

What followed was a monotonous (literally) list of tiny flaws and defects that Marcie noticed about her body. I can tell you, I’d seen the girl naked a few times now, and I’d never noticed any of them. Finally, after she’d mentioned the “bagginess of her knees”, I cut her off.

“How could I convince you that none of these are a problem?”

“You couldn’t”, she said immediately, the same answer that my mother had given.

“Could anyone?”

“No. At least, not one person.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s society, as much as anything. If the rest of the world changed, then sure, I’d change with it.”

A noble idea, but not particularly helpful. I decided to narrow my focus.

“Your knees. How could I convince you that they were sexy?’

“You couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

There was a long pause, and when she responded, it was with a gem of self-awareness that honestly, I didn’t expect her to have.

“Because the only person who could convince me is me. And I hate them.”

Interesting.

I could have spent all day on this, but I think I’d heard enough. I decided to move onto something more interesting.

Marcie was a girl who had always been a little bit into me. Turning her into a sex-buddy had been easy. Even getting her “in the sack” wasn’t too hard—I’d just had to convince her that her crush was a full-blown obsession.

No, if I wanted to get my worth out of Marcie, I had to push her past that. I had to push her past her limits.

Convincing her to fuck me, that was easy. Convincing her that she needed to fuck me, that she couldn’t live without it ... that was the next step. That was the challenge—if I could pull that off, I could do anything.

And I already had a few ideas of where I could start.

Session B103:

“Marcie?”

Nothing.

“Marcie, can you hear me?”

Silence. I reached out, touched her hand and spoke more sharply.

“Marcie, answer me. Can you hear what I’m saying?”

“Mmm?”

It had been almost four months now. Everyone was worried ... what they didn’t know was that when I had her under, I could at least get her to respond with small noises.

“Okay Marcie, hypothetical...”

I waited for a nod, but when none came, continued anyway.

“You’re a small child. Two or three. Your parents are teaching you how to talk, and you’ve heard them speaking over the last few months. You’re starting to understand what they’re saying, and today, finally, your mouth is able to form your first word. What do you say?”

I leaned forward in hope, but ... nothing.

Four months I’d been visiting Marcie. Four months I’d rather have been spending at home, for obvious reasons. And still no progress.

“Okay, forget that. You’re a sixteen-year old bikini model.”

Nothing.

“You’re the Queen of England.”

Nothing.

“You grew up in Germany as the son of a family of lumberjacks.”

Nothing.

I turned to my sister and shrugged. She gave me a wry smile, and I rolled my eyes.

“Go on,” I said, and she began undressing I sat back as my sister approached her chair and began unbuttoning the silent girl’s gown. Marcie smiled in anticipation. She didn’t seem to know who or where she was most of the time, but she knew when sex was on the menu, and it seemed to be the only thing that made her happy.

As soon as Marcie was naked, my sister began to undress as well, and Marcie—I kid you not—came just at the sight of her perfect body.

A lot of things triggered an easy orgasm in Marice. It was yet another change that worried the doctors.

I watched, unable to stop myself from getting hard as my sister’s lips met Marcie’s, and their hands began to explore each other’s bodies. While she was like this, I couldn’t just abandon her ... but if I couldn’t be of any use here, I figured I may as well try to enjoy the show.


	Chapter 11

My sister, at long last, had gotten up the courage to admit that she was attracted to me.

Well, sort of. Yeah, she’d admitted that she was attracted to me ... but “courage” had nothing to do with it.

I’d convinced her, under hypnosis, that I was the person that she trusted most in the world. And then I had slowly built up an attraction to me, and told her that it was dangerous to bottle up secrets.

So if she had to tell someone, then surely it made the most sense to tell me, the person she trusted most in the world.

Last session, those beautiful words had come out of her mouth—”I think you’re sexy.” I’d spent the last few minutes of the session jerking off as she repeated the words, staring blankly, speaking in a monotone.

“I think you’re sexy.”

“Say it again.”

“I think you’re sexy.”

When I’d cum, even though she hadn’t so much as glanced at my cock, a slight flush came over her face—she clearly found it hot. I was tempted to let her get off as well, but then we would have gone long—I try to limit our sessions to half an hour, just to make sure she doesn’t get suspicious about what we do while she’s under.

Instead, I just woke her up, hoping that she wouldn’t link her sudden arousal to the fact that I’d just hypnotized her.

When it was time for our next session, I ignored my first impulse to build on that and try to get her to act on her attraction. I thought about it, and decided to play it safe, focus on something else.

And so I decided to go down a path that I’d been ignoring so far.

For as long as I’ve been masturbating, there’s been three images in my head when I cum—sex with my sister Lucy, sex with my Mom ... and sex between my sister and my Mom.

Now you might think that was impossible. And hell, maybe you’d be right. Maybe I should have just been content with the increasingly-real prospect of getting to fuck my sister. After all, I’d made practically no leeway with Mom so far ... But what can I say? I dream big. And so the next time I got a chance to sit down with my sister, I had two goals: try to make her more comfortable with incest ... and see if there was any possibility of her ever being interested in Mom.

Honestly, I didn’t have a lot of hope. But nothing ventured, nothing gained—right?

Session 24:

“Would you tell me if you were ever attracted to women?”

“No.”

Right out of the gate, I was blocked. Honestly, that took me by surprise—she was okay telling me that she was attracted to her own flesh and blood, but a bit of bicuriousity was off-limits?

Ha. Who was I kidding? Nothing was off-limits. Not any more.

“Would you tell me why you wouldn’t tell me if you were ever attracted to women?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Interesting. I hadn’t heard this one before.

“Why isn’t it any of my business?”

“What a girl thinks about in private is...”

She hesitated, searching for a word, before concluding monotonally:

“ ... private.”

Interesting. I don’t think Lucy had even realized how much information she’d just given me in her attempt to avoid sharing any information... 

“Okay. Hypothetical.”

I was stumped for a few minutes. What kind of a hypothetical could I build that required her to share an attraction to women? But I’d been doing this for a while, and I had begun to impress even myself with my ability to think my way out of a tight situation.

“We’re on a game show. In Japan.”

Nod.

A few years ago, Marcie had found all these weird sexual Japanese game shows. Apparently sex is more than just a private recreational activity over there—it’s something that they use as mainstream entertainment.

I mean, I guess we do too ... but ours is all fantasy. Sexy women selling cars, that sort of thing—you know that they’re just a model who goes home to their rich husband and fucks the gardener. Not the kind of person you’d ever stand a chance with.

These shows had real people sharing real sexual secrets, and even real sexual activities. It was bizarre. Marcie and Lucy had watched a bunch of them, before moving onto whatever the next viral trend was.

“We’ve gone on together, as a brother and sister.”

No response.

“We’ve seen the show a few times, and know that they’d never make us do anything sexual with each other.”

Nod.

“The first round involves making out with an attractive stranger of the opposite sex. Do you do it?”

There was a long pause.

“The show will never be aired in America,” I added, but there was still no response. I think she was worried about being seen as a slut on national television. “And none of our friends know that we’re on it.”

That would help if she accidentally woke up. Explaining away a trip to Japan and an appearance on a Japanese game show would be difficult ... but if no one we knew was aware of it, not impossible.

“And this show works hard to take down online uploads. They’re really anti-piracy. The odds of anyone you know seeing it are almost zero.”

She continued to ponder, but finally I was rewarded with a short nod.

“I do too. We get through to the second round.”

Jesus, this was the tamest Japanese game show ever. It was a tricky balance, making it believably entertaining, and also something my sister would do.

“The second round involves...”

What was Lucy pretty nonchalant about? She hadn’t minded jerking me off, but those were extenuating circumstances. I really didn’t think she’d be likely to do that kind of thing on national television, even if it was in a different country.

Of course, her opinion of me was pretty low. Maybe I could take one for the team.

“The second round involves jerking off and trying to hit a target.”

Nod.

“I succeed, using the tips that you gave me on how to jerk off.”

An oh-so-slight smile appeared on Lucy’s face. Ego and sympathy, that’s how you play my sis.

“So we get through to the final round. It’s us and one other couple. We’re in the running for the main prize, a...”

Shit. What were the prizes on these things? I hadn’t watched nearly as many as my sister.

“ ... a brand new Japanese car. You know Mom has been wanting a second car forever.”

True.

Lucy nodded almost instantly. Sympathy and ego. That’s all it takes.

“The final challenge is simple—they’ve shown us an attractive Japanese guy and girl. If I make out with the guy, or you make out with the girl, we win.”

I took a deep breath.

“I turn to you, looking scared. I tell you that I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it. I can’t kiss a guy, especially not on TV. What do you say?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy replied warmly, a smile on her face. “You did so well last round—how about I do this, and we’ll surprise Mom with the car?”

That was easier than I’d expected. But as I hypothetically thanked her, I realized that I hadn’t actually gotten the information I was after. Sure, she’d make out with a strange girl for a car, but ... who wouldn’t?

I needed to push it further.

“Okay. You make out with the girl for like twenty minutes...”

I paused. Shake. Yeah, that one wasn’t going to fly.

“Ten minutes?”

Shake.

“Five minutes.”

Nod.

“We win the car, and go back to the hotel. We go to our own separate beds, but we’re too excited to sleep. The light is off, but after a few hours, after I assume you’ve gone to sleep ... you hear the sound of me jerking off.”

Nod.

“You decide to masturbate as well.”

Nod. I love that it wasn’t even questioned that any more.

There was a long pause, as I considered how to word this, before deciding to just go for it.

“You think about making out with the Japanese girl as you do.”

Nod.

Session A24:

“Hypothetical: when you were eight years old, you skinned your knee.”

Nod. Good. I hadn’t tried any hypotheticals this far back, but Mom seemed to be going for it.

“You’re eight. You’re innocent.”

Nod. Don’t worry, this isn’t going anywhere dirty. Not yet.

“When you look at the graze on your knee, you realize that you have really pretty legs.”

I leaned forward with bated breath, and released it with a sigh as Mom nodded.

“New hypothetical—you’re nine years old. You’re looking at a catalogue...”

I paused. Had they even invented catalogues when Mom was nine? Fortunately she nodded, so I was able to continue.

“ ... and you see a pretty dress.”

Nod.

“You think it would show some of your legs ... but you’re okay with that, because they’re pretty.”

Nod.

“Different hypothetical—you’re ten years old.”

Nod. Good. It would have been weird if she’d disagreed with that.

“You get to choose whether you wear a skirt or pants to school.”

Nod.

“You choose the skirt, because you like your legs.”

Nod.

I continued, year by year, until Mom was “sixteen”.

“Hypothetical—there’s a boy in your class who likes you.”

Nod.

“You overhear him talking to your friends—he likes you because you have such nice legs.”

She nodded, but it took a while.

“You think you have nice legs, don’t you?”

“No.”

That was frustrating, for a few seconds, but then I realized how I’d phrased it.

“When you were sixteen, you thought you had good legs, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Excellent. I don’t know if that was true beforehand, but it was certainly true now.

“Okay. Hypothetical—you’re seventeen years old. You’re hanging out with a bunch of your girl friends, and they’re all talking about the part of their body that they hate the most.”

This would be easier if they were discussing the body-part they liked the most, but I needed to keep it realistic. Mom nodded.

“It gets around to you. What do you say?”

Mom mumbled, and I had to ask her to repeat herself.

“My legs.”

God damn it, Mom. Why do you have to make this so difficult?

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Hypothetical. You’re six. You’re an innocent.”

Nod.

Session B26: Marcie sat before me, my docile little fuck toy. Even though she wasn’t my sister or my mother, who I’d been lusting after for my entire life, I was quite fond of Marcie. Part of it was just that she was so ... pliable. With no resistance to incest to overcome, it was so easy to sway her. I’d spent almost as much time with Mom as I had with Marcie, and where I was just barely starting to make a scratch on my mother’s limits, Marcie’s had been steamrolled long ago.

Still, there’s always new limits to overcome. I just had to find them before I could break them.

“Marcie, can you hear me?”

“Mmmm?”

I loved that contented sound from her. It was tempting to just flip her over and fuck her now that she was under, but I’d already done that once while she was awake ... and what was the point of Marcie as a test subject if I wasn’t going to try stuff out on her?

“Marcie, would you tell me how you felt about me?”

“Yeah, if you asked.”

“Marcie, how do you feel about me?”

“I think you’re sexy. I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I’ve known you. I’ve dreamt of getting to fuck you since we met. I masturbate thinking about you...”

“How would you feel if I broke up with you?”

“I’d be sad.”

“Would you get over it?”

“It would take a while, but yeah.”

That seemed like the next step. It had been easy enough to get Marcie to want me. And once that was done, it had been child’s play to get Marcie to fuck me. But getting Marcie to need me?

It wasn’t good enough, getting over me after a few weeks, or even months. I wanted Marcie to need me. I wanted Marcie to not be able to imagine life without me.

If I broke up with Marcie, I wanted it to destroy her.

This wasn’t, I should stress, to be cruel. I didn’t care enough about Marcie to be bothered being cruel, to be honest. I had no plan to suddenly break up with her. It wasn’t about power, it wasn’t about ego.

It was about pushing past a human’s normal limits. Because if I could turn Marcie from a friend of a sister to my own personal sex-slave, powered by undying love ... then I could turn my sister from a normal, loving sister, into the kind of person who would fuck her brother.

Jerking someone off, that’s an act of kindness. Lusting after someone happens to people all the time, purely by accident—I once had a sex dream about my 60-year old male teacher, and I’m as straight as they come.

I wanted my sister to fuck me. But more than that, I wanted her to want to fuck me. But I couldn’t risk making mistakes on her, and so Marcie—cruel though it may have seemed—needed to be my test dummy.

“Okay,” I said, after a few minutes thought. “Hypothetical. You’re fifteen years old.”

I know what you’re thinking—”Didn’t we just do this?” Well, yes and no. I’d gone through my Mom’s life with her twice, aging her from 6 up until 30. No matter how many years I’d gone through, it hadn’t stuck. She still hated her legs, and even though I could get her hypothetically loving them at each age, as soon as I gave her autonomy, she went straight back to hating them.

And then I’d remembered—hypotheticals could be used to change someone’s unconscious behavior, but for them to alter a thought pattern, the subject needed to wake up halfway through. I had no idea what would wake my Mom up, and even more importantly—I had no idea whether changing a memory that far back could have some kind of permanent damage.

Enter Marcie.

“We’ve just met for the first time.” True. We really did meet when she was fifteen. “You’re immediately attracted to me.”

Nod.

“You think I’m the most attractive boy you’ve ever met.”

Nod.

“I stick in your head for the rest of the day.”

Nod. Not quickly, but it was there.

“You think I’m ridiculously, incredibly hot.”

Nod.

“I become the biggest crush you’ve ever had.”

Nod.

“You’re so attracted to me, other boys become less attractive by comparison.”

It was slow, but the nod was there.

“The next time you see me, you’re again struck by how attractive I am.”

Nod. That was another reason I liked Marcie—hanging out with her was a real ego-boost. I know I was the one implanting the suggestions ... but she was the one agreeing with them!

“Each and every time you see me, I grow more and more attractive in your eyes.”

There was quite a long pause, that time, but the nod came. I smiled. I’d suddenly realized how I could wake her up—that was always the hardest part, finding a way to straddle the line between acceptable and impossible, causing them to drift back into consciousness, my hypotheticals cemented as reality.

“Pretty soon, you don’t have any other crushes.”

Nod.

“It doesn’t take long for me to be the only boy you’re interested in.”

Nod. Wow. I mean, sure I’d set the groundwork for this, but still... 

“Other boys aren’t attractive to you any more.”

She paused. She pondered. And then she nodded.

“The actors you used to crush on aren’t nearly as attractive as they used to be.”

The pause was longer that time, but she nodded.

“After knowing me for just a month, you’re not attracted to any other boys, or any other men...”

Shake. Okay, good. Glad to know she’s not completely malleable. Then I wouldn’t learn anything.

“After knowing me for a year, you don’t have any other crushes.”

Nod.

“After knowing me for six months, you don’t find anyone else attractive...”

Nod.

“After knowing me for just three months, you don’t daydream about anyone else.”

Slow, slow nod.

“Or anything else.”

Even slower.

“In fact, after knowing me for just three months, other men actively repulse you...”

She thought about it. I know she thought about it, because her eyes spaced out, her breathing quickened. But just as I thought she was about to nod ... she blinked twice, and slowly came back to consciousness.

“Oh!” she said, looking at me in confusion. “Hey sexy! Was just thinking about you...”

She leaned in to kiss me, and her eyes sparkled even more than usual. Maybe I was imagining it, but she seemed way more enthused to see me.

I held out my hand and put one finger on her lips before they could meet mine.

“Marcie?”

She didn’t respond.

“Marcie, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can. Idiot.”

A slight blush came over her face as she playfully insulted me, as if she was afraid of how I’d react. That was certainly new.

“Marcie, how long have we known each other?”

She laughed, and my heart rate increased.

“Years, dummy. Ever since I was fifteen...”

Phew.

I moved my finger away from her mouth and let her kiss me. Even as she did, a sparkle of triumph never left my eye.


	Chapter 12

Session 24: 

After my sister hypothetically masturbated while thinking about the strange girl she’d just made out with, two things were obvious: firstly, even though she wouldn’t consciously admit it (or even admit it under hypnosis) my sister clearly had a strong bicurious streak.

And secondly, it was obvious what I needed to do next.

“Okay. Forget that hypothetical.” I didn’t want to accidentally wake her, and have to explain why we didn’t own a new Japanese car. “Let me ask you a question:

“Would you tell me if you thought Mom was attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Mom is attractive?”

“Yes.”

I almost did a double-take. That was way, way too easy.

“Hang on. Are you saying you’re attracted to Mom?”

“No.”

Ah. That made more sense.

“What do you mean then?”

“I think that Mom is objectively attractive.”

Great. So my sister could see it, but I still couldn’t convince Mom herself.

“Okay. Would you tell me if you were attracted to Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Are you attracted to Mom?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s my mother.”

I grinned.

“Would you tell me if you thought I was sexy?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust you more than I trust anyone else in the world.”

“Do you think I’m sexy?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I think you’re sexy.”

God I loved hearing that.

“Would you tell me if you thought Mom was sexy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Mom is sexy?”

“No.”

Lucy’s brain seemed to equate ‘being attracted to someone’ and ‘that person being sexy’. I briefly toyed with the idea of finding a loophole, but that would be dissatisfying even if it succeeded. I didn’t want to trick her into admitting an attraction ... I wanted her to be attracted.

“Are you attracted to me?”

“Yes.”

She blushed as she said it.

“Even though I’m your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Right. You’re attracted to me and I’m your brother.”

I won’t lie, just saying those words got me hard.

“So clearly you can be attracted to someone even though you’re related. Right?”

“ ... I suppose.”

“So even though you’re related to Mom, you can still find her sexy. Right?”

There was a long pause, but Lucy eventually agreed.

“Mom is very attractive, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“She’s got gorgeous legs, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And a nice slim waistline. Isn’t Mom’s waistline attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything about Mom that isn’t attractive?”

“Yes,” Lucy answered, quickly enough that if Mom had heard, I’m sure her feelings would have been hurt.

“What?”

“The way she dresses.”

I had to agree, but I was already doing everything I could to fix that.

“Okay,” I said. “So she dresses a little dowdy. If Johnny Depp dressed in unattractive clothes, would he still be sexy?”

There was a pause so long that I was worried that Lucy was going to wake up (not that I really needed to be worried—we weren’t halfway through a hypothetical) but she eventually answered.

“Yes.”

“Someone’s attractiveness isn’t determined by their clothes, is it?”

“Not entirely, no.”

“Imagine if Johnny Depp was naked in front of you.”

That blush was back.

“Would he be attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Would you be attracted to him?”

“Yes.”

“Would he be sexy?”

“Yes.”

“So to really decide if someone is sexy, it’s more important how they look naked than how they look with clothes, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think Mom would be attractive without clothes on?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to force them back in. What a stupid question—if she interpreted that the wrong way, she’d wake up for sure. Fortunately for me, she must have been thinking about it clinically, because she agreed almost immediately.

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath, and decided to have a break. We could work this out next time.

Session B29:

“Hypothetical—you’re eighteen.”

Nod.

I’d spent the last few sessions doing sixteen and seventeen. It was more of the same, really—increase her attraction to me, decrease her attraction to all other males. I hoped that hitting each year would be enough—if it didn’t work, I was happy to go back and alter memories every six months.

A part of me sensed that retroactively changing more memories than that would be dangerous. Who knew how much you could mess someone up by altering huge chunks of their childhood?

It had been pretty effective so far—she was really, really into me. But this time I wanted to be more specific ... I wanted to really focus her obsession, and I knew exactly how to go about it.

I’d learned a few things from the last two sessions. Firstly, the more turned on Marcie was, the more wild the hypotheticals could be. Secondly, and most importantly: for some reason, if she was on the cusp of cumming, it was way, way easier to wake her up.

Before putting her under, we’d fooled around for a bit, and by the time Marcie entered the trance, she was wet, naked, and had two of my fingers languidly pumping in and out of her pussy.

“For your eighteenth birthday, Lucy got you a dildo.”

Nod. That one was a bonus—she really had. I don’t know whether it had been a gag gift, or if my sister had been strangely concerned about Marcie’s masturbatory habits, but it served my purposes perfectly.

“As soon as you’re alone in your room that night, you pull it out and look at it.”

Nod.

“You imagine that it’s mine, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” she replied, ever so softly. I smiled.

“You look at your new sex toy and you wish it was my cock, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes...”

“You’re imagining it’s my cock.”

Nod.

“You move it closer to your face. You’re imagining that it’s my cock in front of you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You smell it. It just smells like latex, but in your mind, you can smell my sweat, my skin.”

Nod.

“You move it to your lips, and slowly extend your tongue.”

Nod.

“You lick the head of your new toy, imagining that it’s my cock that you can taste.”

Nod.

“Soon you can’t hold back. You slip the head of the dildo in between your lips, pretending that you’re taking my erection into your mouth for the very first time.”

Nod.

“Are you wet?”

“Yeah.”

“How wet?”

“So wet.”

“But even though it’s just a toy, you know you can’t play with yourself until you’ve pleasured it, don’t you?”

“Yesss...”

“Even though I’m not really there, you know that my pleasure comes first. You’re nothing but a slut—you don’t get off until you’ve gotten me off.”

“Mmmm...”

“So you take the toy, and with both hands you insert it into your mouth. You fellate the plastic cock with everything you’ve got. You deep throat that dildo until you picture me cumming in your mouth...”

“Oh god, yes...”

“You’ve thought about my penis so many times, haven’t you Marcie?”

“So many...”

“You can’t get off unless you’re thinking of me, can you?”

“No...”

“But not just thinking of me. You need to think about serving me, don’t you?”

“Yes ... oh god, yes...”

Marcie’s whole body was sporadically wracked with spasms of pleasure at this point. I knew she was close to cumming, but I didn’t want to push her over the edge. Not yet. I continued pumping two fingers in and out of her sopping wet pussy as I spoke. Her glassy eyes were sporadically rolling back, but always returned to look directly in front of her as I spoke.

“Every time you get off, you fellate your dildo first, don’t you?”

“Yesssss...”

“Every time you’re with another guy, you’re thinking of me, aren’t you?”

“Of cooourssse...”

I wasn’t the first guy to fool around with Marcie, and I didn’t know what kind of damage erasing them would do, so I’d carefully worked them into the narrative.

“You can’t cum without thinking of my pleasure, can you?”

“Not a chance...”

“You can’t cum without thinking of getting me off...”

“Nnngh ... please...”

“You’d fuck anyone if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes!”

She was close now. I grinned, and delivered a line that I knew would wake her up.

“You’d fuck your own father if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

Marcie’s eyes widened in shock, and just as she had the previous two sessions, she drifted back into consciousness, a strange look of horror—and arousal—upon her face.

When Marcie was turned on, her line was exactly incest, I’d discovered. All I needed to do was hypothetically instruct her to fuck her own father, and she’d wake up, all my previous instructions firmly implanted in her brain.

With a bit of effort, I’m sure I could actually get her to fuck her Dad, but obviously that wouldn’t serve my purpose at all ... and yeah, I think her father would have something to say about it as well. But for now, it served as a perfect trigger to wake her up slowly, drift her back into consciousness and ensure that the new memories, as far as she was concerned, were reality.

If all went to plan, we’d reach a point where instructing her to fuck her own father wouldn’t be enough to stop her, and I’d have to find another trigger. But I figured we’d cross that bridge when we came to it, and as long as I didn’t implant instructions to actually fuck her father, we could get around that.

“Oh fuck,” she said, looking down at my fingers as they continued to thrust in and out of her wetness. “Oh please. Please, fuck me. I need to get you off. Please ... please?”

I smiled, and just shook my head. She didn’t want to cum, I could tell—not without getting me off first—but her body was betraying her, and as an orgasm came over her body, her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.

I couldn’t be certain, not without further looking into it, but I was pretty sure that I’d just implanted a powerful obsession with my pleasure (and my cock) into Marcie.

Once I’d done the same with my sister and my mother, I wouldn’t need her any more, but I was confident I would be able to reverse everything I’d done, or at least divert it to another target. In the meantime, I was enjoying using her body for my pleasure, and I’d ensured that she enjoyed it too.

As Marcie came down from her orgasm, I got undressed. The second my erection sprang into view, she crawled toward it, knowing exactly what to do.

Session C1:

“Now, Richard ... do you mind if I call you Richard?”

“No.”

“Richard—how do you feel?”

“Good. Calm. Relaxed.”

If his monotone and blank stare hadn’t been enough, his words would have told me he was definitely under. He was reacting exactly the way Lucy, Mom and Marcie had, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d never done this to a male before, but it had worked.

“Would you tell me why you let me hypnotize you, Richard?”

“Hoped it would help.”

Interesting. He went straight to answering; I didn’t need to bounce around as much. It seemed that Richard was far more upfront than my other subjects had been. Maybe it was a guy thing?

“Help what?”

“Help me feel better.”

“And has it?”

“Mmm.”

“Has it helped, Richard?”

“Yes. Feel better. Relaxed.”

“Good. You like feeling relaxed, don’t you Richard?”

“Mmm.”

“And you feel relaxed when I hypnotize you, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.”

“So in order to feel relaxed, you want me to hypnotize you—am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Say it, Richard.”

“In order to feel relaxed ... want you to hypnotize me.”

“Good.”

I could have almost ended it there, but curiosity bit me. By all reason, Richard shouldn’t have let me “help” him, but he had, and I wanted to know why.

“It’s important to you to feel relaxed, isn’t it Richard?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Only time...”

He hesitated. I considered prompting him, but I figured the worst-case scenario was that he woke up, and all evidence pointed toward him letting me hypnotize him again.

After a long pause, he slowly finished the sentence.

“ ... only time it stops hurting so much.”


	Chapter 13

I couldn’t stand it any longer.

I’d been hypnotizing my mother and sister for months now. In that time, I’d turned my sister’s best friend into my own personal sex slave—both when she was hypnotized or awake—but with my family, I’d gotten practically nowhere.

Well, that wasn’t true of Lucy. While under hypnosis, I could get her to remove her top and let me cum on her tits. That’s certainly something. But I wasn’t any closer to my real goal—I wanted her to be mine in real life. I wanted her to wake up and blow me of her own accord.

I had her mind. Now I wanted her body.

Sitting my sister down for her next session, I knew exactly what I was going to say. There were so many limits waiting to be pushed, so many gaps just begging to be filled... 

So far, I’d worked out that waking someone up during a believable hypothetical would make them believe it to be true. The emphasis was on “believable”—I couldn’t just say “You want to fuck me and you don’t care what society says”—if she didn’t believe it could theoretically happen, there was no way of making her think it was real.

I’d also been able to alter her dreams: by waking her up during a recurring dream hypothetical, I’d made those dreams recur in real life. It was a great way of implanting ideas, but I didn’t want to lean on it too heavily—after all, how often do you wake up after a weird dream and decide to blow your brother?

Marcie had been easy, in almost every sense of the word. She’d already had a small crush on me, which had certainly helped, and so all I’d needed to do was amplify that. Getting in her pants had just involved find out what circumstances she’d fuck someone, and mess with her memories until I fulfilled the criteria.

Lucy’s criteria, however, firmly included “not being her brother”, and so while I could probably get her to fuck almost any random of the street, committing incest? That was a whole different challenge.

She’d hypothetically jerked me off (to help out her poor, broken-armed brother)—she’d hypothetically let me cum on her tits (to “hide the evidence”) and I’d even convinced her to admit that she found me sexy.

I was on the right track. Now I just needed to push it.

As far as possible.

“Okay Lucy. Let’s go.”

I took a deep breath. Lucy, predictably, didn’t respond—she just kept staring straight ahead, those big, beautiful eyes of hers glazed over. She was completely under my trance.

“Would you ever discuss—with me—us having sex?”

There was a brief pause as Lucy parsed the sentence, but she was quick to respond.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“That would be ... wrong.”

“Okay. Would you tell me what the most sexual thing you’d do with me is?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

Again, a slight pause, but it was only a few seconds before she responded in monotone.

“I’d jerk you off.”

It seemed I’d found her limit. We’d done that—hypothetically—on more than a few occasions.

Still, better safe than sorry.

“In what circumstances?”

“If you needed me to.”

I briefly considered exploring exactly what that meant—whether “ordinary teenage hormones” would be enough of an excuse, for instance, but I was starting to feel like I was past that.

I didn’t want her to do it because I needed it—I needed her to do it because she wanted to.

“What other sexual things would you do with me, in the right circumstances?”

The pause was longer this time.

“I’d kiss you.” Well, that was new. I considered exploring it, but decided to let the list continue. “I’d let you see my tits. I’d watch you jerk off. I’d masturbate in front of you. I’d let you cum on me.”

There was a long pause, and eventually I prompted her.

“Anything else?”

“I’d tease you.”

Now that was intriguing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’d tease you.”

Thanks, sis.

“What do you mean by teasing?”

“I’d wear revealing clothes around the house,” she said in monotone, as I leaned forward, transfixed. “I’d bend over when I knew you were looking. I’d let you catch me in a bathrobe, or a towel, or in my underwear...”

Her breathing had grown slightly heavier as she listed other ways she’d sexually tease me, and my eyes boggled. I wondered where this had come from—a recent dream involving me?

Or maybe my sister had always had a slightly exhibitionistic streak?

“In what circumstances would you do that?”

There was a long pause, and it quickly became clear that Lucy was thinking not about how best to phrase it, but about what a good reason could be.

My sister was a tease. On some level, she wanted to tease me, and now she was just coming up with a flimsy excuse to justify it.

With a grin, I decided to help her.

“Would you tease me if I told you it would help me?”

“No.”

No hesitation at all. She seemed very clear on that.

“Would you tease me if you thought it would get my attention?”

“No.” Again, not even a whiff of a pause.

“Would you tease me if you thought it would turn me on?”

“No.”

I had to admit it, I was stumped. Why would you want to tease someone if it wasn’t going to turn them on?

And then I realized the obvious mistake I was making—I was coming at it from my point of view instead of hers.

“Would you tease me if you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Yes,” she said, almost immediately.

Interesting. The teasing wouldn’t be for me, but for her.

I decided to shelve the idea and come back to it later. I’d found something amazing, and I wanted to approach it cautiously.

“What other sexual things did you say you’d do with me, in the right circumstances?”

“I’d jerk you off. I’d kiss you. I’d let you—...”

Oh yes! The kiss. I interrupted the list.

“Under what circumstances would you kiss me?”

This time, there was no pause. Unlike teasing, it seemed that she didn’t wantto kiss me ... but she would, if the situation was right.

“I’d kiss you to help you out. I’d kiss you if you’d never been kissed.”

I feel like I should point out that I have been kissed before. Even Marcie wasn’t my first. But my sister had this idea of me as an innocent, and so I guess to her mind, I’d never been kissed.

The last time we’d discussed kissing, it had been enough to wake Lucy up. Apparently her limits had shifted. Like I’ve said before, they’re constantly moving:

The trick is to control the direction that they go.

“Okay,” I said, jumping straight into it. “Hypothetical—you come into my room and find me crying.”

Nod. I think one of my sister’s weaknesses is finding me crying. I don’t know why—it’s not something that’s actually happened for more than ten years—but I have no qualms with exploiting it whenever it comes up.

“After a lengthy conversation, you coax me into telling you I’ve never been kissed. What do you say?”

“Oh, bro...”

My sister’s soft tone always takes me by surprise when it’s in contrast to the total blankness of her hypnotized face. For the life of me, I can’t explain why it turns me on so much.

“I don’t say anything, just keep staring at the floor, embarrassed. What do you say?”

I once accidentally woke Lucy up by being too forward—in these hypotheticals, I have to always let her make the first move. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want me to notice her teasing—it plays on the idea of me as an innocent, her being the one taking action... 

After a small silence, she continued.

“Do you want me to teach you how?”

“I nod. What do you do?”

“I lean forward and kiss you.”

Now, in the past, anything that she’ll do in a hypothetical, she’ll do for real when she’s hypnotized ... as long as the hypothetical isn’t too far removed from real life. If the hypothetical takes place while lions are slowly advancing, she won’t recreate it in our lion-free lounge room.

I wondered if this situation was close enough.

“Lucy, will you kiss me?”

“Yes.”

Well, that was a freebie.

Session A24:

In my last session with Marcie, I’d finally found something that worked. If I woke her up slowly during a hypothetical from her formative years, I could actually change them, giving her a different set of experiences, memories, shaping her into a different woman... 

I could rewrite people.

Even then, I didn’t realize how much power I had.

Mom is (unsurprisingly) older than Marcie, so I was going to be going back further, changing memories from decades ago. Anything could have gone wrong, and I really didn’t want to accidentally mess things up.

And so I decided to change something relatively (no pun intended) small: her self-esteem. If I could change how Mom felt about her body, maybe I could convince her to show some more skin around the house. And if I could do that, maybe she wouldn’t mind if Lucy started showing some more skin around the house... 

Fortunately, I had the script from Mom’s last session.

“Okay, Mom,” I started. “Hypothetical: when you were eight years old, you skinned your knee...”

Session 25:

My sister, it probably won’t surprise you to learn, is a good kisser.

Well, I didn’t really have much to go on. It was a peck ... she was my sister, what would you expect her to do?

But when we pulled back, she was blushing. I decided to see how far I could push things.

“Okay. Hypothetical—we’re in my room, you caught me crying, I explain that I’ve never been kissed, you offer to show me.”

Nod.

“I thank you for the kiss.”

Nod.

“But ... I explain that it doesn’t really help. What do you say?”

“Why not?”

She sounded offended. I think that was a good sign?

“I explain that I’ve had that kind of kiss before, but not a real kiss... 

“ ... what do you say?”

My sister’s arms wrapping around my body took me by surprise. In the past, asking what she said had only resulted in words, as she sat completely still, staring forward. I suppose in this situation, she felt that she couldn’t say what she wanted to say in words, and in no time at all, I could feel her tongue tentatively entering my mouth.

In response, I just froze—in shock, at first, but then in fear. What if I did something wrong? What if I was too forward, unlike her mental image of me, and she woke up? Thus far she’d never even been remotely suspicious about our sessions, but I felt like waking up her her tongue down my throat would change that... 

I decided to play it safe, and act the ingenue. I allowed my hands to roam up and down her back, like hers were doing to mine, and I didn’t use my tongue, just enjoyed tasting hers.

It was warm and wet, and like I said, I’ve kissed girls before, but nothing was like this. No one could compare to Lucy.

A part of me knew the kiss was lasting longer than it “should” have, but at the same time it felt far too short—when she finally pulled back, I was comforted only by the knowledge that now she’d done it hypothetically, we could do it any time I wanted.

Any time she was under, of course.

I sat there, stunned, as my flushed sister resumed her earlier position, staring straight ahead, her blank eyes unfocused, and what I thought was a hint of a smile on her face.

Wow.

Session A25:

“Okay Mom—hypothetical. You’re nine years old. You’re looking at a catalogue, and you see a pretty dress...”

I didn’t like to hypnotize anyone more than once a day—it just felt wrong. Too easy to make someone suspicious. Honestly, even once a day felt like too much, but I had so many years that I wanted to get through, and I couldn’t just mash a bunch of them together.

Each year was a different hypothetical to wake her from, and that meant that each change was a whole new session. Fortunately, whether the session was two minutes long or twenty, Mom seemed to find them equally relaxing. It wasn’t hard to convince her to let me put her under each day.

“You think it would show some of your legs, but you’re okay with that—because you have pretty legs.”

Nod.

It’s a pity I wasn’t doing this to Lucy—I could jerk off on her at the start of the session, and do the hypothetical at the end ... but there was other stuff I was doing with Lucy.

Session 25:

It was tempting to make out with her for the full half-hour. It was even more tempting to make-out with her, and then jerk off on her tits, and then make out some more.

But if I ever wanted to go any further than that, I knew I had to stay focused.

“I tell you that you’re amazing.”

Nod.

“And then I look shocked and embarrassed ... and start to cry again.”

Ego and sympathy. Those are the tools that work on Lucy.

“What do you do?”

“I ask you what’s wrong.”

There it was again, that monotone, that blank stare. It was so weird to think that just a few seconds ago, we’d been passionately making out ... and now here she was, barely more than a human doll.

My human doll. My human doll to kiss, to strip, to jerk off on ... and soon enough, to dress however I liked.

“I look horrified at the question, and say that I could never, ever tell you. That it would be wrong.”

When convincing Lucy to admit she was attracted to her, the key had been trust—I’d told her that it was dangerous to keep secrets, and that you should tell them to someone you trust. I could only hope it would work in reverse.

“What do you say?”

“I understand if you don’t want to tell me ... but if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.”

Aww. I do love my sister. Like, I want to fuck her, more than I’ve ever wanted anything ... but as well as that, I actually think she’s great.

“I don’t say anything, and after a while, you start to leave the room.”

Nod.

“When you’re at the door, I tell you that I ... that I know it’s wrong, but I find you attractive.”

I held my breath as I waited for Lucy’s reaction. It would be so easy for her to wake up right now, to freak out at my forwardness ... but she didn’t.

She nodded.

“What do you say?”

There was a long pause. Alarmingly long. At worst, she woke up now, and believed that we’d made out—that wouldn’t be the end of the world. But I still had ten minutes left, and I’d already gotten so much out of this session. I wanted to see how much more there was to get.

“I ... I understand.”

Again, there was an alarmingly long pause, but I didn’t interrupt. I wanted to see where, if anywhere, she was going with this.

“ ... I sort of like you too.”

Wow. Wow. Just two sessions ago, I’d had to push and pry to get her to admit that she thought I was sexy ... now, practically unprompted, she was admitting it halfway through a hypothetical.

Things, it seemed, were speeding up. I almost didn’t want to let myself believe it, but the lingering taste of my sister’s tongue told me that it was true.

Before now, she’d been afraid of admitting her attraction in case I thought she was a pervert. I guess after making out with your brother and hearing that he’s into you, that fear is pretty greatly reduced.

An idea hit me.

“I ask you if it’s wrong, to think about each other like that. What do you say?”

“No ... yeah. I mean, yeah, I guess it’s wrong. But as long as we don’t, y’know, act on it...”

Apparently in my sister’s head, making out doesn’t count as acting on it. Good to know.

“I tell you that I think Mom is kind of hot.”

This was one that I’d tried ages ago, when I’d first started hypnotizing Lucy. It had freaked her out then—I was curious to see how much things had changed.

“How do you react?”

“I agree.”

... more than I’d expected, apparently.

Session A29:

“Okay Mom. Hypothetical: You’re 13.”

Nod.

“The other girls in your class have started shaving their legs. You’ve got some fine hair on yours, but it’s blonde, so it’s not obvious. What do you do?”

“I shave it off. My legs are ... are...”

The last time we’d done this hypothetical, she’d said that she started shaving it straight away, because her legs were gross. But I’d slowly awoken her from the past four sessions, and her rock-steady confidence that her legs were gross was—ever-so-slowly—starting to fade.

“My legs are ... not great.”

Definitely a step up from “gross”, and more importantly—a gap.

A gap that I could leap into.

“Does shaving legs make them look better?”

“Yes.”

“So after your legs are shaved, they’ll look good, won’t they?”

Somewhat predictably, she shook her head. But not immediately—there was a long pause first, and a smile spread across my face.

This was going to work. I just knew it.

Session 25

“So you agree that Mom is hot?”

“No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I agree that Mom is kind of hot.”

“Would you tell me if you were attracted to Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Are you attracted to Mom?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s my mother.”

“Are you attracted to me?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m your brother.”

“Yes, but that’s ... that’s different.”

I considered exploring this further, but I remembered that we were halfway through a hypothetical.

“Okay. New hypothetical: it’s a few days after we made out, and I come up to you and ask if we can do it again.”

Shake. Damn it, Lucy—it was such a tricky balance. On one hand, she felt like a pervert if she was the one to make the first moves. On the other hand, if I was too aggressive, it didn’t mesh with how she saw me, and she wouldn’t believe it.

I wracked my brain and tried to remember how I’d made progress in the past ... I’d convinced her to let me cum on her tits when I was hypothetically in hospital, and we needed to “hide the evidence”, but that didn’t really seem to apply here.

Oh yeah ... we’d mutually masturbated after “waking up together” in the caravan park.

“Okay—hypothetical. I have a bad dream one night, and ask if I can sleep in the same bed as you.”

Shake. Thank Christ—it’s good to know she realized I’m not a ten-year old any more. Especially considering she’s having sex dreams about me several times a week... 

“Okay. Hypothetical—a few days after we make out for the first time, my room gets a flea infestation.”

Nod.

I’d be annoyed by her acceptance of that idea, but ... well, it had happened once when I was a kid. Mom and Lucy never let me live it down.

... maybe more than once. I was just glad I could (finally) turn the experience into something useful.

“While we’re taking care of them, the only safe rooms are yours and Mom’s.”

Nod.

“Mom asks if I can sleep in your bed again, like we did last time...”

Nod.

“One night, while I’m in your bed, you have a sex dream about me.”

Nod.

“In your sleep, you find yourself grinding up against me...”

Nod. This wasn’t where I’d intended to go with this, but hell, I wasn’t going to complain about hypothetical-me getting some sleep-action.

“My dick is always hard when I’m asleep...”

Nod.

“ ... and you get really wet as you rub up against my erection all night.”

Nod.

“We wake up at the same time, and our faces are just a few inches from each other. You’re breathing heavily, and you’re still turned on.”

Pause. Nod.

“Without saying anything, our faces move toward each other, and we start to make out a little...”

Nod. Holy shit.

“My hands are running all over your back.”

Nod.

“My tongue slips into your mouth...”

Nod. Good to know—I was able to do that next time I made out with my sister.

Next time. God I love my life.

“And your hands are on my bare chest.”

Nod.

“One of your hands starts to move down...”

... 

... 

... shake.

Fuck. That, it seemed, was her limit—she’d make out with her brother while she’s sleepy and turned on, but it won’t go any further than that.

I’d planned on going back and exploring the idea of her teasing me, but after what had just (hypothetically) happened, I needed to jerk off. I needed to jerk off on my sister.

I needed to jerk off on my sister while she was talking dirty to me.

A while back, I’d discovered that rephrasing questions slightly led to the same response. I was curious to see whether I could take it a step forward.

“Okay Lucy. Take your top off.”

She didn’t even question it, just removed everything she was wearing above the waist. Her huge, full tits came into view, and I swear my cock almost burst out of my pants.

We’d talked while I was jerking off, but never while she was topless. Still, I doubted it could do much harm.

“Are you gay?”

“No.”

“You don’t like girls?”

“No.”

“No you don’t, or no you do?”

“No, I do.”

“How would you describe your sexuality?”

There was a pause, and this time I could tell she was trying to work out how to phrase it.

“If I had to put a label on it, I’d say I was bisexual.”

“So you don’t just like girls?”

“No.”

“You like guys?”

“Yes.”

“You think guys are sexy?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me what turns you on the most about guys?”

“Yes.”

There was something strangely hot about having to check whether she’d discuss certain topics. I guess it was the way that it contrasted with the fact that she was topless, or that I was slowly stroking my cock in front of her.

“What turns you on the most about guys?”

“I like it when they’re hard. I like knowing when they’re hard.”

That was unexpected. Her skin was getting slightly flushed—either the topic, her exposure, or my jerking off was clearly starting to turn her on.

“You like erections?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they’re attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me about one of your fantasies?”

There was a longer pause this time, but she eventually nodded. So much had changed since I last asked her about her fantasies, but her response still surprised me.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about one of your fantasies.”

“I sometimes imagine myself being ... promiscuous.”

“Promiscuous?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I sometimes imagine myself giving head to one guy while I’m having sex with another. Stuff like that.”

Hot. I was getting closer, and so I moved in for the kill.

“So just to confirm ... you think that erections are attractive?”

“Yes.”

“In the right context, you find them arousing?”

“Yes.”

“And in your fantasies, you sometimes imagine yourself being promiscuous?”

“Yes.”

“A fantasy is another word for something we want, isn’t it? Fantasies are like dreams or goals—they’re the world that, on some level, we want to live in. Right?

Pause.

“Yes.”

“So you want to be a slut, don’t you?”

Pause.

“Yes.”

“You love cock and you just want to be a little slut. You get turned on by the idea of sucking and fucking cock, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I love cock. I just want to be a little slut. I get turned on by the idea of sucking and fucking cock.”

As my cock exploded onto my sister’s exposed chest, I couldn’t help but smile.

I love my life.


	Chapter 14

Now, I know what you’re thinking—you’re thinking there’s a path clearly laid out for me. For the first time, I could engineer sexual contact with my sister ... without having to break both my arms.

All I’d need to do would be have her catch me crying, convince her I’d never been kissed, and get her to make out with me. I could plant fleas in my room and sleep in her bed, hope she had an erotic dream about me, and make out with her in the morning.

And you’re not wrong. I could have done all of that. But I didn’t know where it would go. If I wanted to make out with her, I could do it while she was under, with the added bonus of getting to use her huge tits as cum target practice a few minutes later.

No, when stuff started in real life, I wanted it to be more than kissing, more than sleeping in the same bed.

I wanted it all.

Session A33:

“Okay Mom. Hypothetical—you’re seventeen years old. You’re hanging out with a bunch of your girl friends, and they’re all talking about the part of the body that they hate the most. It gets around to you. What do you say?”

There was a pause. A long, long pause. A pause so long that I was worried Mom was going to wake up ... but finally, she answered.

“Probably my elbows.”

I grinned. The baby steps had added up: I was getting somewhere.

Session 26:

It was tricky, working out my sister’s limits. And not just stuff she definitely wouldn’t do—that bit was easy.

Stuff that she would almost do, that was the trick. Because once you’re right at the edge of someone’s limits, you can nudge it. A kiss becomes a french kiss ... helping someone masturbate becomes watching them masturbate.

I wanted to fuck my sister. I mean, ideally I wanted to fuck her while she was awake, while she knew exactly what was happening. But I didn’t know if that day would ever come, and so until then, I’d settle with fucking her while she was under.

The trouble was, I had no idea how to get to that stage. Last time, I’d managed to convince her to dry-hump me ... while she was hypothetically asleep. I could kiss her, I could even get her to make out, but anything beyond that... 

So until a path presented itself, I decided to focus on what I had.

“Would you tell me if you like to tease people?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like to tease people?”

“Yes.”

Interesting. It seemed my sister had a bit of an exhibitionist streak. That put the nude beach hypothetical in a whole new light... 

I wondered how far she’d gone with it.

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever flashed anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever flashed anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Marcie’s Dad.”

“Go on...”

“He was in the kitchen when I was in the pool with Marcie once. I pretended that I didn’t know he was there, and took my top off.”

“Have you ever flashed anyone your ... you know, your pussy?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like it.”

Women. I genuinely don’t understand them. I’ve not once encountered a vagina that wasn’t supremely attractive, but just like Mom and her legs, it turned out that Lucy had a thing about her pussy.

That at least explained why it had been so (relatively) easy to get her top off.

Session A36:

“Okay Mom, hypothetical: you’re 20 years old. How do you feel about your legs?”

“I like them.”

“Why do you like them?”

“Because they’re sexy.”

“Have you ever worn stockings?”

“No.”

“You buy your first pair of stockings.”

Nod.

“You put them on. How do they feel?”

“Good. Smooth.”

“How do they look?”

“Good.”

“No they don’t. They look great. You thought your legs were sexy before, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Well now they’re even sexier.”

Nod.

I paused, wondering how far Mom would let this hypothetical go. Whenever I’d so far as mentioned sex in the past, it had woken her up. As a hypothetical twenty-year old, however, she might be a bit more open-minded... 

“Just looking at your sexy, stockinged legs starts to turn you on...”

“You really are good at this! Thanks so much for that...”

Ah well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Session 26:

“So teasing turns you on?”

“Yes.”

“And hypothetically, you’d tease your brother?”

“Yes.”

It felt like saying “your brother” instead of “me” added a tiny bit of distance, made her more likely to say yes. I had no evidence of that, of course, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.

“Okay Lucy, tell me: when would you tease your brother?”

“If I knew he wouldn’t notice.”

“But how could you know that he wouldn’t notice?”

There was a pause as she considered the question. I had to admit, it was a tricky one. After ten seconds had passed, I decided to give her a hand, if only to ensure that she wouldn’t wake up.

“What if you were to tease just a little. Just enough that if I did notice, it looked like an accident. Is that something you might do?”

“Yes.”

“Okay: hypothetical. You start to tease me— ... your brother a little. Just a tiny bit, nothing too obvious.”

Nod.

“I don’t notice.”

Nod. It was almost sweet, how innocent my sister thought I was.

I guess it’s a credit to how well I hid my true intentions, considering the dirty things I’d gotten her to do ... and the even dirtier things I was planning.

“After a week or so, you begin to step it up a bit.”

Nod. “Step it up” was a bit of a vague term, but I was going to circle back later and get the details. Right now, I wanted to see how far I could push this.

“I still don’t notice.”

Nod.

“Would you tell me how it feels to tease someone?”

“Yes,” she replied, quietly but monotonously.

“How does it feel?”

“It turns me on.”

“How does it feel to expose your skin to someone who doesn’t even notice what you’re doing?”

“It turns me on.”

My sister almost seemed to have an ... innocence fetish? Is that even a thing?

“How does it feel to expose more than you should to your brother?”

I continued before the pause could get too long. I didn’t want to wake her up—not yet.

“Would you tell me how it feels to tease your brother?”

“Yes.”

Even quieter than before.

“How does it feel to tease your brother?”

“It turns me on.”

I was so hard, and my sister’s boobs were just one command away ... but I had to keep going. I needed to know how far she’d go.

“You keep on teasing me.”

Nod.

“Do you own any short skirts?”

“Yes.”

“You start wearing them around the house.”

Nod.

“You stop wearing a bra when it’s just us at home.”

Nod.

“When you’re wearing a short skirt, you’ll find excuses to bend over in front of me.”

Nod.

“No matter what you do, I don’t seem to notice.”

Nod.

“That just turns you on more and more, doesn’t it?”

Nod.

“You make sure that Mom doesn’t catch you.”

Nod.

“You make sure she doesn’t suspect a thing.”

Nod.

“But a few times a day, just for kicks, you’ll tease me around the house.”

Nod.

“Confident I’ll never even notice.”

Nod.

Amazing.

Session A37:

So obviously going sexual wasn’t going to work—it would wake Mom up. But just like Lucy could find Mom sexy without being attracted to her, Mom was okay to talk about things being sexy... 

“Okay Mom, hypothetical. You’re twenty, you’ve just bought your first pair of stockings, they make your legs look sexy.”

Nod.

“Your legs look sexy by themselves, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“So in stockings, they must look even more sexy, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s sexy when men look at your legs, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And so it must be even sexier when you’re wearing stockings, because even more men look at your legs. Right?”

“ ... yes.”

There was hesitation there, but she did agree.

“You like feeling sexy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You like how sexy your legs are, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And so you must really like it when you’re wearing stockings.”

Nod.

“You decide to wear stockings more often.”

Nod.

“You decide to wear stockings whenever you can.”

Nod.

“Any chance you get, you wear stockings, and they make you look and feel sexy.”

Nod.

“You’re almost always wearing stockings.”

Nod.

I slowly woke her up, and after a few confused blinks, she smiled and thanked me for the session.

At breakfast the next morning, she was wearing a long dress—nothing new or unusual, it was something she’d had for years.

But underneath, she was wearing stockings.

Session B34:

In the meantime, I’d been increasing Marcie’s obsession with me more and more. I’d also made sure to emphasize how important it was that she appear normal to everyone else—if Lucy found out that her best friend was suddenly sexually obsessed with me, she was likely to be at least a tiny bit suspicious.

At the risk of sounded big-headed, I was genuinely impressed by how far I was able to push Marcie. Maybe she just has a naturally pliable mind, but considering how quickly I’d managed to turn her slight crush into the equivalent of Beatle-mania, combined with the forward steps I was managing to take with my family ... well, I felt like I was really starting to get the hang of this.

“Who owns your pussy, Marcie?”

“You do.”

“Who owns your mouth?”

“You do.”

“Who owns your body, Marcie?”

“Y— ... you do.”

There was a bit of hesitation there, but I wasn’t too worried. It wouldn’t take too much effort to eliminate that.

“Who owns you?”

There was a longer pause this time, but when the answer came back, it was firm and steady.

“You do.”

It hadn’t taken much to turn Marcie’s obsession with me into a slave obsession. Now when she masturbated, she didn’t just think about my pleasure—she thought about me owning her pleasure.

“Who decides when you cum, Marcie?”

“You do.”

“Who decides who you fuck?”

“You do.”

“What would you do if I told you to fuck Troy Atkinson?”

The hesitation turned into a pause, and that turned into a long silence. I asked her again.

“What would you do if I told you to fuck Troy Atkinson?”

Troy was a kid we’d all grown up with—I hadn’t picked him for any particular reason. Eventually—once Lucy and my mother were my willing sex-slaves—I’d have no need for Marcie. I’d have to either reverse her obsession or transfer it to someone else.

It wasn’t going to happen any time soon, of course, but I was curious to hear her reaction to the question.

“I ... I...”

“Who owns you, Marcie?”

“You do.” There was barely any pause that time.

“Who decides who you fuck?”

“You do.”

“So if I tell you to fuck someone, you’ll fuck them. Am I right?”

Again, the pause.

“Do you like obeying me, Marcie?”

“Yes...” The answer came in the form of a groan. Just the idea of obeying me was enough to turn Marcie on these days.

“Do you like disobeying me, Marcie?”

“No.”

“So why won’t you fuck Troy Atkinson?”

“I belong to you.”

“Call me Master.” I’ll admit it, that was just me fucking around. The whole ‘Master’ thing has never really been a huge turn-on for me, but it was still hot to hear her say it.

“I belong to you, Master.”

“So if you belong to me, you’ll fuck who I tell you to fuck.”

There was no response. She was being strangely resistant to the idea.

“I own your pussy, don’t I?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I own your boobs, don’t I?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And I own your pleasure, don’t I?”

“Yess ... Master...” Again with the moan.

“Would you enjoy fucking Troy Atkinson?”

“No, Master.”

“But your pleasure is irrelevant, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Your pleasure belongs to me. So does your body. So if I tell you to fuck Troy Atkinson, what do you do?”

“I ... I...”

I reached out and spanked her bare ass. She shivered in pleasure—that was another fetish I’d managed to implant pretty easily. It came with the whole ‘ownership’ thing. Plus, honestly, I think she was a little bit into it already, but denying it even to herself.

“If I tell you to fuck Troy Atkinson, what do you do?”

“ ... I fuck Troy Atkinson, Master”

“Good girl.” Another shiver of pleasure. “Who owns you?”

“You do, Master.”

“And what do you do if I tell you to fuck someone?”

“I fuck them.”

I smiled.

“You’d fuck your own father if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

As Marcie slowly woke up (I’d made sure not to alter her perception of incest—it was too useful for waking her up in a very controlled way) her eyes slowly focused on me, and she gave me a warm, submissive smile, before crawling over to me and putting her head in my lap.

I stroked her hair softly, smiling at the idea of my beautiful sister being this submissive. It would happen, one day. Marcie made a good pet, but I knew that I wouldn’t have time for her once I had full control of Lucy and Mom.

Session 26

I could have woken her up then and there. I could have had Lucy teasing me around the house, simply by finding that line and asking her a question that straddled it. I could have locked the hypothetical in as reality, and my sister would have been wearing short skirts around the house, bending down in front of me, never wearing a bra when we were alone... 

In real life. That’s the thing ... don’t get me wrong—getting her topless while she’s under is amazing, but seeing her naked in real life?

That’s the dream.

But I still had plenty of time on the clock, and so I decided to get as much information as I could—if I made a mistake while it was happening for real, there was no going back.

And there was no telling what could happen.

“So how could you tell if I’d noticed your teasing?”

She thought for a brief moment before replying.

“If you were to say something.”

Made sense.

“Or if you were to get an erection while I was doing it.”

Even as she said that, her face twitched slightly, as if she wanted to look down at my cock.

It seemed my sister was conflicted. I pressed on.

“What if you were teasing me, and then you left, and then a few minutes later I came and thanked you?”

Her breathing increased.

“Then I’d know that you’d noticed.”

My sister was a mass of contradictions. On one hand, it was pretty clear that she wanted me to jerk off while thinking about her. At the same time, she was explicitly telling me that if she knew her body was turning me on, she’d stop showing it off.

Intriguing.

“Okay,” I said, “you’re having a shower.”

Nod.

“When you finish, you notice that I’m standing outside the door.”

Nod.

“You decide to tease me.”

Nod.

“As you’re walking out the door, you “accidentally” drop your towel.”

There was a long pause, and I wondered if Lucy could understood air-quotes while she was under.

Finally, she shook her head. Damn.

“Okay—you deliberately drop your towel, but make it look like an accident.”

Shake. Seemed that the air-quotes weren’t the problem.

“You deliberately expose your breasts, making it look like an accident.”

Pause.

“Just for a second—long enough for me to get a glimpse, but nothing more.”

Nod.

“I look shocked, but I don’t say anything.”

Nod.

“When I go into the bathroom, I don’t close the door all the way.”

Nod.

“You decide to spy on me.”

Nod. Lucy seemed to have a bit of a voyeuristic streak too... 

“You see me pull down my pants...”

Nod.

“And pull out my cock.”

Nod.

“It’s hard.”

Nod.

“Does that make you stop wanting to flash me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“As far as you’re concerned, it was a total accident. And you’re not hard because I was flashing you—you’re just hard because you saw my boobs.”

I didn’t even want to start questioning that logic, but I guess it made a certain amount of sense. I had the information I was after—I could have asked more, but I don’t think Lucy even knew where the line was, and the more questions I asked, the greater my chance of screwing it up.

I was just about to wake her up when a thought suddenly struck me.

“You’re standing outside the bathroom, and you can see my hard cock.”

Nod.

“You realize that I must be about to jerk off.”

Nod.

“Does that make you want to stop flashing me?”

Shake. Good.

“You get really close to the door.”

Nod.

“You realize that I’m actually being pretty loud.”

Nod.

“You push the door slightly...”

Shake. Okay ... good to know how far she’d go.

“You realize that the door is open wide enough that you can everything.”

Nod. Really, sis? She doesn’t think I can do my homework, but I jerk off with the door wide open?

Ah well. I guess we see what we want to see... 

“I wrap my hand around my cock, like you’ve seen a thousand times before.”

Nod.

“I have no idea you’re there.”

Nod.

“You stand there and watch.”

Nod. Interesting. I knew I should stop, wake her up, make the flashing a reality, but I just had to know how far she’d go with this.

“After a few minutes, I start to cum.”

Nod.

“You touch yourself as you watch me.”

Nod. Wow!

Wow.

“I, uh, cum all over myself.”

Nod.

“I clean it up, and start to get up. You go to your room and get dressed...”

Nod.

“A few minutes later, I find you and say thanks.”

Nod. One of the earliest changes I’d made to Lucy was that she thought I thanked her each time I jerked off. I’d been doing it, too—not only every time I jerked off, but a few times a day, just randomly, I’d come and thank her, with no other context. She always blushed when I did—it was super hot.

One time I thanked her at the dinner table. She almost choked on a pea.

“You realize that I thank you at about 8 o’clock every morning.”

Nod.

“The next morning, at a few minutes past 8, you come to the bathroom and watch me jerk off.”

Nod.

“You touch yourself as you do.”

Nod.

“You start doing it every morning.”

Nod.

“For a few weeks, you watch me jerk off, and touch yourself while you’re doing it.”

Nod.

“Soon, you start to time your orgasms with mine.”

Nod.

“You start cumming every morning, just watching me cum.”

Nod.

I absolutely hadn’t expected it to go this far. Now I was just blindly marching forward, seeing what I could make her disagree with, trying to find her limit.

She’d started shifting in her seat again. I loved that just the idea of watching me jerk off turned her on.

“One day, you see that I’m doing it standing up.”

Nod.

“When I cum, I cum all over the toilet.”

Nod.

“You hide while I’m leaving, but after I’m gone, you enter the bathroom.”

Nod.

“You can smell my cum.”

Nod.

“You want to taste it.”

Nod. Holy shit!

“You...” I couldn’t believe what I was going to say, but I had to know if she was going to say yes. “You find a blob of my cum on the toilet handle.”

Nod.

“You lean down and taste it.”

I couldn’t believe how far this had gone—things felt like they’d gotten out of my control. My sister just kept on nodding, and I felt like I couldn’t stop. She’d agreed to everything!

She seemed to be struggling with the answer. I was desperate to see her response—was she going to lick her own brother’s cum off the toilet? Had I managed to change my sweet, innocent sister that much?

Ten, twenty, thirty seconds passed as she thought, and when she answered, it was nothing like I’d expected.

“Hey...” she said blearily. “I ... thanks! Thanks for that.”

Oh god.

Oh god.

Shit shit shit shit shit. I hadn’t even been trying to wake her up!

“No worries, sis,” I said with a smile, hoping that she didn’t notice the panicked look in my eyes.

What had I done??


	Chapter 15

Session 27

“Would you tell me how often you masturbate?”

“No.”

“What about if it wasn’t specific numbers?”

“Maybe.”

“Would you tell me if you masturbate more than once a day?”

“Yes.”

“ ... why?”

I know I should have just asked, but I was curious.

“I don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”

Okay. Apparently my sister’s idea of a slut was a girl who masturbated more than once a day. And she’d already kind of answered the question, but I decided to confirm anyway.

“Do you masturbate more than once a day?”

“No.”

Session 35:

“How often do you masturbate?”

“All the time.”

“How often specifically?”

“Two or three times a day.”

“And what do you think about while you’re masturbating?”

“You.”

“And what does that make you?”

“A slut.”

“Whose slut?”

“Your slut. I’m your slut.”

“You’re a slut for your brother, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m a slut for my brother.”

Session 27:

I hadn’t put my sister under for around two weeks. The last time we’d had a session, I’d changed things so that she would watch me masturbate in the bathroom, each and every morning ... and get off while she did.

It had been a total accident. But, after freaking out and working out exactly what I’d changed, I saw the perks and decided to run with it.

It was not a hard decision.

And so, for the last two weeks, I’d been masturbating in the bathroom. Every day at 8am, I’d go in and jerk off, leaving the door open—just enough for her to see what I was doing. And every morning as I came, I’d hear the muffled groans through the door of my sister getting off as well.

It. Was. Awesome.

“Spread your legs,” I said, grinning as Lucy obediently did. She was wearing a pleated short skirt—she’d been wearing a lot of them around the house lately. Almost every time I looked at her, she’d be positioned to show off her braless tits, or bending over to show me her amazing ass.

If she ever caught me looking directly at her, I knew the show would be over. I had gotten very good at checking her out from the corner of my eye.

Even while she was under, I couldn’t risk looking directly at her panties ... but while she was under, I could tell her exactly how to pose, what to do.

“Lean forward.”

She did.

“Subtly lift your boobs up so I can see as much cleavage as possible.”

You’d think that would be a risky one, but I’d caught her doing that in real life the other day. She sort of folds her arms underneath them, and suddenly there’s a whole lot of boob in my face.

I know, I know: while she’s under, I can see my sister topless. But there’s something weirdly sexy about my sister, fully-clothed, contorting her body however I want her to. Especially since I can’t look directly at her—I have no idea why that’s hot. It just is.

“Stand up and do a twirl.”

Her skirt flew up, exposing her colorful panties. I wanted to reach out and grab her ass, feel it in my hands, reach one finger around and see how wet her pussy was... 

But not yet.

Not yet.

“Sit down,” I said, needing a moment to compose myself. My sister was getting off each day, watching me jerk off, and running around the house in very little clothing. Life was pretty great ... especially since Mom wasn’t objecting.

Especially since Mom had started to join in.

Session A50:

“Hypothetical. You’re twenty.”

Nod.

“You’ve just bought a dress.”

Nod.

“It shows a lot of cleavage, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It shows more cleavage than your other dresses, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how much cleavage it shows.”

“It shows a lot of cleavage.”

“Tell me where it ends.”

“Slightly above my nipples.”

“Your bust is sexy, isn’t it?”

I’d gotten to “bust” through some trial and error. Boobs, tits, breasts, even bosom—no go. But for some reason, bust was fine.

She’d say nipple, but me saying “bosom” woke her up. I didn’t understand my Mom at all.

“Yes.”

“So in this dress, they must look even more sexy, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s sexy when men look at your bust, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And so it must be even sexier when you’re wearing a dress with a lot of cleavage, because even more men look at your bust. Right?”

“ ... yes.”

Again, the hesitation. Again, she agreed. It had been quite a slog, getting to this point—I’d taken her up through the years once more. This time I’d even broken my rules, hypnotizing her twice some days. But it was totally worth it: it was working.

It was working.

“You like feeling sexy, don’t you?’

“Yes.”

“You like the sexy feeling that stockings give you, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Dresses that show a lot of cleavage are sexy too, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay to wear sexy dresses around your family, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t find your family sexy, do you?”

“No.”

“So your family mustn’t find you sexy either, right?”

“No.”

That was a new one. Mom had noticed me checking out her stockings once—I’d managed to avoid leering as my sister basically showed me a tit, but I hadn’t been able to avoid checking out Mom’s stockinged legs.

And so, somewhat counterproductively, I’d brought her some science showing that people don’t find their own family members sexy. It’s called the Westermarck effect—it mostly applies to brothers and sisters (I guess I’m just broken) but I’d convinced Mom that it meant that I didn’t find her sexy, and so she had continued wearing stockings around the house.

“You like how sexy your bust is, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And so you must love how it looks in your new dress.”

Nod.

“You decide to wear your new dress whenever you can.”

Nod.

“You get more dresses that show lots of cleavage.”

Nod.

“Any chance you get, you wear dresses that show lots of cleavage.”

Nod.

“Except when you’re at work, you’re almost always wearing dresses that show lots of cleavage.”

Nod.

“You like showing a lot of cleavage, don’t you?”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I like showing a lot of cleavage.”

“It’s okay to show a lot of cleavage around family, isn’t it?”

Nod.

Session 27:

I knew my sister was getting off once a day while watching me. And she’d just admitted that she didn’t get off any other time.

The only time Lucy came was while watching me do the same ... that was definitely something I could use.

“Okay,” I said. “Hypothetical: every morning at 8am, you stand outside the bathroom and watch me jerk off.”

Nod.

This obviously wasn’t a hypothetical: it was really happening. In real life. I sometimes still struggled to process it. It was really happening. It had been a total fluke, but man ... what a lucky thing to fluke upon.

But I knew she wouldn’t talk about it if I flat-out asked, so I had to play the hypothetical.

“Every time you watch me cum, you get off as well.”

Nod.

“One day...”

I paused. I’d worked out what I needed to do next just a few days after everything had started. But even though I knew it would get me closer to my goals, it felt like a step backwards, and so I’d held off. There was something so hot about knowing my sister was outside the bathroom, her hand down her pajama pants or up her nightgown, getting off in time with me, cumming at the site of my cock shooting off... 

Part of me never wanted to stop. But sometimes the only way to go forward is to go back, and so I knew I had to do it.

“One day, you go to the door of the bathroom at 8am ... and I’m not in there.”

Nod.

“You go and find me—I’m in the lounge room, sitting in Mom’s armchair watching TV.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I tease you.”

It came out in a monotone, as always, such a matter-of-fact statement. But her hand twitched as she said it, like she wanted to reach down and flash me the front of her panties (as she’d done a few times before, when she was feeling particularly cheeky.)

“How?”

“I sit on your lap,” she said, to my surprise. Up until now, her teasing had been mostly visual. There had been the occasional boobs pressed against my chest, or butt against my crotch as she squeezed past (it had been a hell of a challenge to avoid getting a boner, which I knew would stop the show immediately) but she’d never been this direct.

“I sit on your lap and ask what you’re watching.”

I could have gone down that train of thought a bit longer (last time I’d followed a whim, it had accidentally been quite rewarding) but I had a lot I wanted to get through in this session, so I pressed on.

“You don’t get off that day.”

Nod. I didn’t know her masturbation habits, but I figured “you don’t jerk off” was a pretty safe part of any hypothetical that didn’t include Johnny Depp.

“The next day, the bathroom is empty at 8am again.”

Nod.

“You come and find me—this time, I’m in the kitchen, making breakfast. What do you do?”

“I come up behind you and give you a hug from behind.”

Interesting. Maybe watching me jerk off made my sister feel some kind of connection to me, and when that connection was missing, she used physical affection to duplicate it.

Or hell, maybe she was just horny. I made a mental note to check if she got touchy-feely when she was horny.

“You don’t jerk off that day.”

This time there was a slight pause before the nod. I think after getting off every day for two weeks, you get kind of used to it. I know that before I started playing with her, Marcie used to only get off every couple of days, and now—based on her texts—she cums once a day thinking about me, if not more.

(Marcie was away with her family for a month, which was both a curse and a blessing. On one hand, I missed using her to get off. On the other, it meant I was so built up that cumming each morning in the bathroom was easy and fast—I didn’t want to take too long, in case Mom caught us, or Lucy got self-conscious and stopped her peeping.)

“The next morning, you’re super horny.”

Nod. Instant, very emphatic nod.

“You go to the bathroom door at 8am, but I’m not in there.”

Nod.

“You can’t find me in any of the public rooms of the house.”

Nod.

“You walk to my door, and you notice that I’m laying on my bed.”

Nod.

At this point, I was again torn. A part of me wanted to keep on keeping on, just move the voyeuristic activities to my bedroom. But that wasn’t the path that would lead me where I wanted to end up.

And so instead I followed the plan that I’d spent the last week coming up with.

“I’m having a nap.”

Nod.

“You go to your room.”

Nod.

“You’re really turned on and you want to cum.”

Nod.

“You start to play with yourself...”

Another nod. I hadn’t even finished the sentence: that’s how keen she was for a hypothetical orgasm.

“ ... but no matter what you do, you can’t cum.”

Pause. Long pause. And then, after the pause was so long I was worried she was going to wake up, my sister shook her head.

“Why not?”

“I’ve never had any trouble reaching climax when I play with myself,” she said. “Especially when I’m turned on.”

Damn.

“Okay, but...”

I trailed off. I hadn’t thought about this—I can tell my sister whatever I like about my own sexual habits, but when it comes to her own, she’s indisputably the master.

“Okay,” I said, after a few moments of thought. “Ummm ... new hypothetical. We’re on vacation at the caravan park, your iPod breaks, and there’s a blizzard outside...”

Over the next minute, I summarized the hypothetical from one of our earlier sessions. Lucy nodded: suddenly, we were in the world of knowingly, deliberately getting off in front of each other.

“Would you tell me if you like getting off in front of me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like getting off in front of me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me why?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you find it harder to get off when I’m not around?”

“Yes.”

“Do you find it harder to get off when I’m not around?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me why you like to get off with me, then?”

“No.”

Another dead end.

Damn it.

Session A51:

“Okay Mom, hypothetical. You’re nine.”

Nod.

“You see a nice woman’s shirt in a catalogue.”

Nod.

“It shows off her midriff, and it looks really pretty.”

Nothing.

I waited for a while, but still nothing.

That was weird.

“Do you know what a midriff is?”

“No.”

Huh. By moving my mother back far enough, she’d lost parts of her vocabulary. I had no idea if I could even use that, but it was definitely interesting.

“It’s her ... tummy. She’s wearing a short skirt, and a shirt that shows off her tummy.”

Nod.

“You look at your tummy. It’s quite pretty, isn’t it?”

Nod.

“In the same catalogue, there’s a sexy nightgown.”

Again, that silence.

“Do you know what sexy means?”

“No.”

“There’s a nightgown that’s lacy and see through, and it shows most of the woman’s body. Do you understand?”

“Even her privates?”

“Yes, even her privates. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You think it’s really pretty.”

Nod.

“You want to get one just like that when you grow up.”

Nod.

“It’s fine for family to see your privates, because they’re family.”

Nod.

“It’s such a nice nightgown. You can’t wait until you grow up, so you can get one of your own.”

Nod.

Session 27:

I was totally stumped. My plans had been thwarted by, of all things, how good my sister was at getting off.

Unless ... unless that was something I could use.

“New hypothetical!” I said, suddenly inspired. I glanced at the clock—this might take us over the half-hour, but I hadn’t put her under for two weeks. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t noticed if I stretched the limit a bit.

“Every morning at 8am, you stand outside the bathroom and watch me jerk off.”

Nod.

“One day, you go to the bathroom, and I’m not there. You find me in my room—I’m just laying on my bed.”

Nod.

“You still want to get off, so you go to your bedroom.”

Nod.

“When you start playing with yourself, your mind turns to what you’ve been looking at as you get off for the last few weeks.”

Nod.

“As you cum, you imagine me getting off.”

Nod.

Wow. No resistance at all. Maybe I’d still be able to make it in under half an hour... 

“The next morning, when you come to the bathroom, I’m not there.”

Nod.

“You realize I didn’t come and thank you at all the day before.”

Nod.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you haven’t jerked off.”

“That’s right. You go to your room and get off again.”

Nod.

“As you do, you think of me.”

Nod.

“You think I’m very sexy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You like thinking of me cumming when you cum, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t come and thank you again all day.”

Nod.

“The next morning, I’m not in the bathroom at 8am.”

Nod.

“You go to your room and get off, thinking of me.”

Nod.

“Every time you get off, you think of me.”

Nod.

“What do you think about when you get off?”

“You.”

“What specifically?”

“Your cock. Your cock, cumming.”

I smiled. I felt like I’d pushed through another limit, somehow.

“The fact that I’m not masturbating—how does that make you feel?”

“Bad. Worried.”

“Does it make you want to help?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

There was a long pause as my sister thought. I decided to help her out a bit.

“Does it make you want to tease me more?”

“No.”

That was a surprise.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t really notice when I tease you.”

Ah, of course. My sister’s teasing, as far as she’s concerned, is for her, not me. If she thought it would be helpful, she certainly wouldn’t do it.

“Does it make you want to help me get off?”

“Yes.”

“Does it make you want to ... jerk me off?”

“No.”

“What, then?”

“It makes me want to find out why you’re not getting off and help you with that.”

Interesting. Not quite what I was going for, but I’m not one to look a Trojan horse in the mouth.

It was time to wake my sister up. The session was about to run over, and I wanted to wake her up slowly and implant the memory of her getting off every day, thinking about me.

Yes, it meant the end of our real-life mutual masturbation sessions, but they were technically one-sided anyway. She was watching me—I didn’t get to watch her.

I was trying not to think of it as a step backwards, but a leap forward in a more useful direction. I’d replaced it with something almost as good: the knowledge that every day, my sister was in her room, playing with herself, thinking of me as she came.

I hadn’t gotten as far as I’d hoped, but I could hardly complain.

Session A58:

“Any time you’re at home and you’re not wearing a low-cut dress, you wear skirts and tops that show midriff.”

Nod.

“Every night, you wear transparent, lacy nightgowns.”

Nod.

“It’s okay for family to see you in them, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay for family to look at each other’s bodies, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s okay for your son and daughter to look at each other’s bodies, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“No.”

“Is it okay for Lucy to start wearing short skirts around the house?”

“Yes.”

“Is it okay for her to look sexy?”

“Yes.”

“Is it okay for her to wear transparent, lacy nightgowns?”

“Yes.”

“Is it okay for her brother to look at her body?”

“Of course.”


	Chapter 16

Session B112:

Marcie’s father was out when we dropped by. She’d only been institutionalized briefly—the doctors had quickly determined that she wasn’t a threat to herself or to others, and though she needed a carer, she didn’t require constant supervision.

Her mother was long gone, but her father was still around. He seemed like he was really struggling—the few times I briefly ran into him, he just thanked me for coming to visit his daughter.

“At least we know who her true friends are,” he’d said once, as if I needed to feel any worse.

“Hey Marcie,” I said, eliciting no response until I stepped forward and cupped her breasts. She moaned at my touch, as I knew she would. “Your master is here.”

Session 28:

“Hypothetical: when you masturbate, you think about my cock.”

Nod.

I’d expected her to accept that, but it was good to know that we hadn’t gone backwards since last week.

“You think about how frustrated I must feel...”

Nod.

“And how awful it must be, not being able to cum every day like you do.”

Nod.

“You think I’m very sexy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You think your brother is sexy.”

Nod.

“How does it make you feel, knowing that he isn’t cumming as often as he should?”

“Sad.”

“Does it make you feel frustrated?”

“Yes.”

“It’s frustrating not being able to cum, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“When you’re masturbating, you think about how frustrated I must feel, and you start to feel it as well.”

Nod.

“You can’t cum, because you know I can’t cum.”

Shake.

Not even a pause. Just an instant rejection of the hypothetical. I paused—that wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

“You have no trouble cumming, even though you know I can’t?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t affect it at all?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I swear I saw a proud smile appear on my sister’s otherwise-neutral face as she replied.

“I never have any trouble cumming.”

Damn it.

I mean, on one hand, that was super hot to hear—and think about. Apparently my sister came easy ... good to know.

But it did make my job a bit harder.

As far as my sister was concerned, I’d abruptly stopped masturbating. No longer could she spy on me from outside the bathroom door, secretly getting herself off as she did.

I was hoping to leverage the fact into stopping her orgasms as well, leaving her horny, desperate to make me cum so that she could as well. No such luck.

We sat there in silence for a few seconds, as I hastily constructed a backup plan.

“Okay,” I said eventually. I had a new path to go down; hopefully this one wouldn’t be stymied by my sister’s easy orgasms.

“When you masturbate, you think about me.”

Nod.

“You think about me wrapping my hand around my cock and stroking it until I get off.”

Nod.

“When you cum, you imagine me cumming.”

Nod.

“But even while you’re having an orgasm, you know that it’s been a week since I got off.”

Nod.

“That makes you sad, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Your orgasms aren’t as good when you’re sad, are they?”

There was a slight pause, and for a second I thought my sister was going to admit to being some kind of sex robot, always able to cum powerfully, no matter what else was happening in her life.

Which would be, y’know, fun. But distinctly unhelpful. My sister the sex robot.

“No,” she finally answered, and I smiled.

“When you’re sad, your orgasms aren’t quite as satisfying, are they?”

“No.”

“So once you’ve cum, you’re still a little bit horny, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered—again, there was a slight pause, but I think what I was saying made too much sense for her to deny it.

“When something is unsatisfying, it means you want more, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

I was going to be the first person to fuck his sister through use of dictionary definitions.

“So after you’ve had something that’s unsatisfying, you want another one.”

Nod.

“And if that one is unsatisfying, you want another one after that, right?”

“Yes.”

“So if you have an unsatisfying orgasm, you want to have another one straight after, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me the most number of times you’ve orgasmed in a day?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it’s more than five?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever had more than five orgasms in a day?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it’s more than three?”

“No.”

I had a ball-park figure, at least. Time to bring it all together.

“So when you know I’m not masturbating, it makes you sad.”

Nod.

“And when you play with yourself, you think about my cock.”

Nod.

“So whenever you masturbate, you get sad because I’m not, and it give you unsatisfying orgasms.”

Nod.

“After you cum, you have to cum again.”

Nod.

“And after that, you need to cum again and again and again.”

Nod. I had hoped that by leaving the number vague, it wouldn’t trigger my sister’s reluctance to share exact numbers ... but “again and again and again” sounds like it’s at least three times to me.

“Every day, you cum a number of times, but you’re never satisfied.”

Nod.

“You’re still horny after you cum.”

Nod.

“That means you’re horny all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” my sister said in her soft monotone.

I could have woken her up here—the idea of my sister walking around all day, horny and unsatisfied, even as she flashed her little brother ... it was tempting.

But I wanted to push it further than that. She was squirming slightly in her seat at the scenario I was putting in her head, of her wandering around all day turned-on and unable to do anything about it.

I was pushing her limits further than I’d ever pushed them before. I could feel it.

Session A60:

“Mom?”

Nothing.

“Mom, can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Mom, answer me. Can you hear what I’m saying?”

No response.

I had absolutely no idea how to deal with what had just happened—I’d come home to find my mother flipping through a photo album, tears running down her face, struggling to breathe.

I’d panicked, and put her under. She hadn’t resisted as I went through the usual routine, and now she was sitting in front of me, staring blankly, not saying a word.

“Okay Mom. What’s your daughter’s name?”

Nothing.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

“Mom?”

Session 28: I ran the situation from a few different angles before I continued, making sure I really let it sink in.

“It’s frustrating, walking around horny all the time, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lucy replied, and even though her voice was completely expressionless, I could see the desperation in her eyes.

“Okay. One day, you’re walking past my room and you see me inside, crying.”

Nod. Her facial expression immediately softened. For whatever reason, my sister is an absolute sucker for her little brother’s tears. If I could fake-cry in real life, I bet I’d have her in bed within a week.

“What do you do?”

“I walk inside,” she said, “sit on your bed, and put one arm around you.”

“I’m still crying. What do you say?”

“What’s wrong, bro?”

Session A60:

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

She just sat there as she had for so many sessions before now, staring blankly. She was dressed in what was becoming one of my mother’s standard around-the-house outfits—a white button-up vest that showed off her plentiful cleavage, and a black skirt that ended just above her knees.

It was sexy as hell, but in that moment, I barely even noticed. I was wracking my brain, trying to get my mother to talk.

“Would you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nod.

She nodded! That was something. I picked up the photo album, still sitting open on her lap. As I looked through it, my heart sank.

It was pictures of Mom when she was younger, in her mid-twenties. And—in stark contrast to the memories I’d implanted—she was conservatively dressed.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Session 28:

“I don’t want to talk about it. What do you do?”

“Insist.”

“When I turn to look at you, you can see that my eyes are red and puffy.”

The thicker I lay it on, the more effective it seems to be. Maybe it’s her maternal instinct or whatever.

“I tell you that you won’t understand, that it’s not something I want to talk about with my sister.”

The more she leads, the less suspicious she seems to finds it.

“What do you say?”

“Come on,” she said, a playful tone in her voice. “I promise not to be weird about it.”

“I sigh, and nod.”

I paused, partially to arrange my thoughts, partially to build tension.

“I tell you that I think there’s something wrong with my thingy.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I ask you what you mean.”

Here it was. The moment of truth. My sister had stopped fidgeting in her seat—whether that meant her arousal had faded or if she was just trying to conceal it from hypothetical me, I didn’t know, but I hoped that it would still have an influence over her actions.

“I explain that it hurts when I touch it. What do you say?”

“Oh!”

My sister practically yelped in surprise, by far the loudest she’d ever been in one of our sessions. Thank goodness Mom wasn’t home ... of course, if Mom was home, I wouldn’t be hypnotizing my sister in the living-room.

I considered moving it to the bedroom, but I didn’t want to wake her up in a different spot, and I definitely didn’t want to hypnotize her twice in one night. No, whatever happened, I needed to get it to work in the living-room.

“Do...”

She hesitated, and I leaned forward in anticipation.

“Do you want me to have a look?”

I don’t think Lucy was even aware of the fact that she’d licked her lips slightly as she spoke—by this point, my cock must have practically been an obsession for her. She was cumming three or four times a day (minimum) thinking about it, and it was the indirect cause of her walking around horny all day.

Every day.

“I look horrified,” I said, fighting the urge to scream ‘yes’ and whip it out. “I tell you that I could never ask you to do that—that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

“What do you say?”

“Oh come on,” Lucy said, and though her face remained impassive, I could tell from her tone of voice that she wanted to roll her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve never seen it before. Remember when you broke your arms? I must have seen it what, like fifty times?”

“Thirty-four to thirty-seven times,” I muttered to myself with a smile. “I tell you that this is different—that in the hospital, it was an emergency. What do you say?”

“It sounds like this might be an emergency,” she said, trying—and failing—to hide her eagerness. “Come on. Bring it out, let’s see if we can work out what’s wrong.”

“I tell you I won’t,” I said, wanting to see how far I could get her to go. At worst, I figure I can just restart the hypothetical ... but I was curious as to how effectively I’d made her want to see my cock, whether it was just to help out her brother in a time of need ... or for reasons she wouldn’t even admit to herself. “What do you say?”

“I’m not leaving until you show me,” she said, and I grinned. I couldn’t wait any longer—Lucy wanted to see my hypothetical cock, and I wanted to hypothetically show it to her.

“Okay. I agree, reluctantly, and make you promise not to freak out. What do you do?”

“I close the door and I promise.”

Good thinking.

“I unzip my pants and pull out my cock. It’s exactly like you remember seeing it, but slightly more engorged and red. It doesn’t look infected or anything like that, just ... frustrated.”

I saw Lucy shiver as I described my penis to her.

This was going to work. I just knew it.

Session 25:

“What’s the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

“I’d jerk you off.”

“In what circumstances?”

“If you needed me to.”

Session 45:

“What’s the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

“I’d ... I’d...”

I stopped her, before I overwhelmed my poor sister. After I was sure she’d calmed down, I continued.

Session 5:

“Tell me... —”

I cut myself off. There had to be an easier way of doing this. Every time I asked her the wrong question, she’d wake up—I needed to work out a way of learning what information she would give me.

And then it hit me—why not just ask?

“Will you tell me about the first time you had sex?”

“No.”

It worked! Maybe. I had to find something else to test it on.

“Will you tell me what color panties you’re wearing?”

“No.”

All good so far. I mean, not ideal, but at least she wasn’t waking up.

“Will you tell me ... what you think of me?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re all right.”

Glowing praise, courtesy of my sister Lucy.

“Will you tell me...”

I was just fishing now, trying to find her limits.

“Will you tell me the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

“Yes.”

My eyebrows raised. That was unexpected.

“What’s the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

“Nothing. I will never do anything sexual with you.”

Ah.

Still, worth seeing if there was anything I could do to change that.

Session 28:

“I explain that my cock hurts if I touch it, and that I haven’t even been able to jerk off for a few weeks now.”

Nod. I’d accidentally extended the timeline, but she didn’t seem to mind, and I figured the longer the better.

“What do you do?”

“I ask if there’s anything I can do to help.”

She wasn’t even trying for subtlety. There was a slight breathiness in her voice. I loved it.

“Like what?”

There was a pause, and I realized what I’d said.

“‘Like what?’, I ask you. What do you do?”

Her breathing was definitely getting faster now. She was wearing a low-cut top with no bra, and her breasts heaved with every breath she took.

“I sort of shrug, and say whatever.”

Whatever? That’s an open invitation if I’ve ever heard one ... But I decided to play it cautiously.

“Will you tell me what you mean by whatever?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean by whatever?”

“Jerking you off.”

I slumped back in my seat. That was nice, obviously, but ... there had to be more.

After a minute of silent contemplation, I decided to press on. She’d jerked me off before—only in the hypothetical, of course, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to fuck her ... but we probably weren’t there yet, hard as it was to admit.

“I ask what you mean by ‘whatever’. What do you say?”

“Y’know ... whatever.”

My sister, it seemed, had suddenly gone shy. I knew what she meant, but if I couldn’t get her to hypothetically explain it to me, then that meant I’d have to suggest it ... and experience had shown me that things rarely went well when I was the aggressor.

“I start to cry again.”

Why not?

“I tell you, through sobs, that it feels so bad ... that I haven’t gotten off in so long, and it’s starting to hurt.”

Nod.

“It’s obvious that I really need your help.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I...”

There was a long pause, and for a second I thought Lucy was going to wake up. It wouldn’t be the end of the world—we weren’t in a particularly compromising position or anything, but holy fuck it would be frustrating. Marcie was back in a few days, but I thought for sure this was the night I’d finally make some progress with my sister.

I guess I could have just jerked off on her tits again, but I was hungry for more.

I needed more.

“ ... I ask if you want me to jerk you off.”

Honestly, at this stage, I’d take that. I’d never actually felt my sister’s hand around my cock—the thirty-four to thirty-seven times had been completely hypothetical—but I could push this further. I knew I could.

Session A60:

“Okay Mom...”

My brain was racing, trying to come up with a way to get out of this. I’d never had someone experience a disconnect between the memories I’d implanted and reality. Maybe I’d broken my mother?

No. No, that couldn’t be the case. There had to be something I could do.

“Okay. Hypothetical.”

Nod. That was a good sign.

“You ... your parents are quite conservative.”

Nod. This one was true.

“When...”

I wanted to spin this story quickly, before Lucy came home, but it also couldn’t have any holes in it or it’d make the situation worse.

“When you start showing more skin at home, they disapprove.”

Nothing.

“It’s okay for family to look at each other,” I added, “but they’re worried that the neighbors might see.”

Nod.

Now I had to deal with the impact of hypothetical neighbors ... but that was something I could sort out later.

“When they’re not around, you still dress how you like, but you try to hide it from them whenever possible.”

Nod.

“To make sure that they don’t know how you dress, whenever you take a photo, you make sure you’re covered up.”

Nod.

“You’ve been doing that for as long as you can remember.”

Nod. I hadn’t even noticed how much Mom was shaking until she stopped. Her breathing returned to a normal rate, and her eyes appeared much less glassy—she no longer looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Even though for years now you’ve been wearing low-cut tops, short skirts and showing a lot of skin, all of your photo albums have you dressed much more conservatively. To hide it from your parents.”

Nod.

“That’s also why you have so many conservative clothes. In case your parents ever come and visit.”

Nod. I have no idea why the clothes in her closet hadn’t affected her like the photo album, but I decided to cover my bases. Just in case.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel good,” Mom replied.

I breathed the most powerful sigh of relief that has ever been breathed.

Session 28:

“I look at you, shocked, and ask if you’re sure. What do you say?”

“I’m sure,” my sister replied in a gentle whisper.

“I ask if you’re sure you want to jerk me off. What do you say?”

“I’m sure,” she said again.

Part of me wanted to push her to say it, but there was no real need, and I was nervous that it would backfire.

“I nod. What do you do?”

“I lean in and wrap my hand around your cock.”

“I cry out in pain.”

Again, if I needed to, I could just come back to this point and let her do it. I made a mental note of the ‘save point’ and continued.

“What do you do?”

“I look shocked, and ask what’s wrong.”

“I tell you that it still hurts, and start to cry again. What do you do?”

“I give you a hug to comfort you.”

My sister’s a good person. I sometimes wonder what that makes me. What kind of a monster would take a good person like Lucy and spend this much time breaking down her down, striving to turn her into an incestuous sex slave?

And then I remember the sight of her tits, the feel of her lips against mine, and how good it’s going to feel when she’s finally mine, on all fours, my cock slipping into her warm, tight, unprotected pussy ... My reluctance disappears pretty quickly.

“I start to cry again. What do you say?”

Silence.

After a few seconds, it became apparent that my sister didn’t have anything to say, and so I sat back to think once more. I knew exactly where I wanted to go from here, but I had no idea how to actually make it happen.

And then, totally unprompted, my sister offered a solution.

“Maybe there’s something else I could do to help?”

Session A61:

“Would you tell me if your parents ever talked to you about sex?”

“Yes.”

The emergency earlier that day had gotten me thinking, and so after Lucy went to bed, I knocked on Mom’s door and asked if she wanted me to hypnotize her, to help her get to sleep.

As always, she agreed immediately—to my delight, she was wearing the partially-transparent nightgown that I’d bought a few weeks earlier to hide in her drawers. Now that I knew the risks of reality and memory clashing, I had to be more careful about that kind of thing, but in this case, it seemed to have worked out Through the thin cloth I could see the outlines of her full breasts, her large brown nipples, and the unkempt patch of hair between her legs. From sneaking into her room and checking her laundry, I knew that she’d worn the nightgown before, but this was the first time I’d actually seen it in the flesh.

And what flesh there was to see.

I didn’t want to make her self-conscious or suspicious, however, so I tried not to stare (while she was awake, at least) and just sat beside her on the bed, quickly putting her under.

“Did your parents ever talk to you about sex?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you think that was good parenting?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that was a good parenting?”

“No.”

“Do you think parents should talk to their children about sex?”

“Yes.”

I furrowed my brow—this attitude was in direct contradiction to every conversation I’d ever had with my Mom.

I decided to dig further.

“Do you think you should talk to me and Lucy about sex?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me why you don’t?”

“No.”

The trouble with Mom so far hadn’t been pushing limits—it was finding them in the first place. Every time I tried to turn the conversation somewhere interesting, I got shut down or locked out—this was the longest conversation about sex that we’d ever had ... but, more importantly, it was something I could use.

After a few more minutes of staring at her mostly-exposed body, I woke her up and wished her a good night.

This was going to require some thinking.

Session 28:

“I ask you what you mean. What do you say?”

“Y’know...”

Damn it, Lucy, this is not the time to be coy. I decided to throw caution to the wind and just ask.

“In this hypothetical, if you thought it would help, would you have sex with me?”

“No.”

“Would you give me head?”

“No.”

I sat back, puzzled. What else was there?

“Would you ... let me have anal sex with you?”

“No.”

I thought for a moment, before snapping my fingers and leaning forward excitedly.

“Would you let me fuck your tits?”

“No.”

Damn. I thought for sure that was it. It had been on my ‘want’ list for as long as Lucy’s tits.

“Would you tell me what you would do?”

“Yes.”

“What would you do?”

“I would help ... stimulate you.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. Stimulate? What did that mean in this context?

“How?”

“With my...”

There was a long pause, and Lucy’s eyelids began to twitch. Before I could say anything, she seemed to calm down, and a hint of cheeky smile appeared on her face.

“With my tongue.”

My eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean my tongue.”

“Yes, but ... how would that work?”

“A guy’s frenulum is very sensitive. You can get someone off just by stimulating the frenulum.”

I had no idea what a frenulum was, but I was suddenly very excited to find out.

“I ask if you’d stimulate my frenulum with your tongue. What do you say?”

“Oh...”

Lucy’s voice was suddenly filled with doubt—I could have kicked myself for being so forward. This shit only worked if she was the one pushing.

“New hypothetical!”

She closed her mouth. I ran through the exact same situation, and got back to the point where I screwed up.

This time, I was going to play it less stupid.

“I tell you that I appreciate the offer, but I could never accept.”

Nod.

Phew. That was a close one.

“I ask you to leave. What do you do?”

“After one last hug, I leave.”

Looking at the clock, I knew I didn’t have long before I’d gone WAY over my limit, but I didn’t care. This had to happen. This had to happen. That morning, I didn’t even know what a frenulum was, but I suddenly knew I would die if mine wasn’t stimulated by Lucy’s tongue, ASAP.

Fortunately, I knew exactly how to push her buttons.

“Every day that week, you find me in my room, crying.”

Nod.

“You always offer to help, but I always turn you down.”

Nod.

“You’re still cumming thr— ... a bunch of times each day, but it’s not satisfying.”

Nod.

“The only way you’ll be able to get off properly is by helping me cum.”

Nod.

“Finally, one day, you come into my room and you insist.”

Without even the slightest hesitation, Lucy nodded.

“You ... you stimulate my frenulum with your tongue, and I manage to cum.”

Nothing. Shit. Had I gone too far?

“You stimulate my frenulum with your tongue...”

Nod. That part’s fine.

“And I cum.”

Nothing.

What had happened? Was she **trying** to make me suffer?

Session A62: Mom was sitting on the couch, wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt that she was constantly threatening to burst out of.

I’d started playing it a little less subtle, just to see what happened—I’m sure she’d noticed, but she hadn’t said a word. I really had persuaded her that family members were just never attracted to each other.

Lucy was picking up Marcie, who was finally on her way back from holiday. I hadn’t seen her in almost five weeks now, and was very much looking forward to spending some time with her again.

Her texts had been getting increasingly desperate (and more frequent) over the last week, and I suspected that at the first possible chance, she’d get the two of us alone and force my cock down her throat, or make me finger her as she trembled from one orgasm to the next.

“Okay Mom,” I said with a yawn. I didn’t even have a particular direction for the session, I was just killing time until I could fuck Marcie into a quivering puddle. “Would you talk to me about sex if I was dating someone?”

“No.”

“Would you talk to Lucy about sex if she was dating someone?”

“No.”

It was such a weird wall to run into; I genuinely didn’t know what to make of it.

“Bounce in your chair.”

She did, and her tits wobbled in a most satisfying way. They had to be at least as big as her head. I couldn’t wait until the day I got them free, got to run my hands all over them, got to fuck them, cum on them ... I took a deep breath. All in good time.

Session 28:

“You stimulate my frenulum with your tongue...”

Nod.

“When do you stop?”

There was a pause, and I briefly wondered if I’d fucked up again. But after a moment of contemplation, she answered.

“When you have somewhere to cum.”

Of course.

“You stimulate my frenulum with your tongue...”

Nod.

“ ... Until I cum into a towel I have handy.”

Nod.

There we go.

I could have left it there. But I had gotten so far ... I couldn’t resist pushing it a little further.

“You know how hard it is for me to cum.”

Nod.

“You know how hard it was for me to let you help.”

Nod.

“You’re grateful that I let you help.”

Nod.

“What could you do to show me your gratitude?”

There was a brief twitch. I know, I know, — I was definitely pushing it—the idea of her thanking me for getting me off though ... I couldn’t resist.

“I thank you.”

Fucking jackpot. My entire body was pumping with adrenaline, and I couldn’t resist pushing it a little bit further. Cumming into a towel is fine—any port in a storm, after all—but it was the only thing that stopped it from being perfect.

Well, that and the fact that I wasn’t fucking my sister morning, noon and night. But I suspected that would be a bit harder to fix.

“You feel really good about helping me.”

Nod.

“It still hurts when I jerk off...”

Nod.

“ ... so you keep on helping me.”

Nod.

“Once a day, you stimulate my frenulum with your tongue until I cum.”

Nod. Wow!

“I accidentally leave a tuna sandwich in my room for a week, and it has a really gross smell.”

Nod. A slightly judgemental nod, in fact.

“I ask you to... —”

I paused, catching my error just in time.

“You ask me if I need your help one day, while we’re in the living-room.”

Nod.

“I say yes, and start to unbuckle my pants right there. Mom isn’t due home for a while.”

Nod.

“You stimulate my frenulum in the living-room.”

Nod.

“With your tongue.”

Nod. Amazing. I couldn’t wait to find out what a frenulum was.

“Just as I’m about to cum, you realize that we don’t have a towel handy.”

Nod.

“You tell me to cum on your tits.”

Nod. Nice, but I’d already done that. I wanted to see where else I could go with this—I’d started down the rabbit hole, and I had no intention of stopping.

“The next night, we forget the towel again, but you’re wearing a really nice top that you don’t want to get stained. You’re about to go out with Marcie.”

Nod.

“There’s nowhere else for me to cum.”

Nod. I remembered how close she’d been to licking my cum off the toilet, just a few sessions ago, and I wondered if I’d moved her limits enough.

There was a risk of waking her up, but hell—this was a hypothetical I was more than happy to implant as a memory. Getting my frenulum licked every day until I came? That was a dream come true.

Unless my frenulum was in my butt or something. I don’t know if I’d be into that. Still, that was something I could look up before it happened.

“What do you do?”

“I...”

The flutters were back.

“I...”

We were in the living-room; Mom wasn’t home, and I didn’t have a towel handy. If she agreed to this hypothetical, the odds were pretty good that she’d agree to this any time she was under.

Her tongue could be on my frenulum within seconds. Unless it’s somewhere hard to reach, I guess.

It all rested on her next answer... 

“I tell you to cum in my mouth.”

Session 47: My sister leaned in to kiss me, but I pushed her away. Some guys think it’s hot, making out with a girl who’s just swallowed their cum, but I’m not really into it.

Maybe if she was sharing it with Marcie ... or Mom. That’s something I could get behind.

“Not now, Luce.” I said, running my hands down her naked body. “There’s something I want to ask you...”

She just moaned in response as I slipped two fingers into her slick pussy. It was always wet, these days, and I was knuckle-deep almost instantly.

“Now,” I said, enjoying her short yelp as I spanked her. “You want this to continue, don’t you?”

Lucy nodded. Her whole body twitched slightly, and as I moved my fingers in and out, she shuddered with delight.

“You want me to fuck you, won’t you?”

Session 28:

“Would you unbuckle my pants?”

“Yes.”

“Would you find my ... my frenulum?”

“Yes.”

“Would you stimulate it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you lick it until I came?”

“Yes.”

“Would you catch my cum in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Would you thank me afterwards?”

“Yes.”

“Under what circumstances would you do all that?”

She didn’t even pause.

“If you needed it.”

I smiled, and stood up proudly.

“I need it,” I said. She never lost her blank look, but the speed with which Lucy had my pants out and my cock out told me just how excited she was to do it.

Within a few seconds, her tongue was stimulating the front of my cock, the sensitive part just below the head.

So that’s what that’s called, I thought to myself, looking down and enjoying the sight before my eyes.

Lick. Lick. Lick.

Session A62: I’m not going to lie—at that moment, I was seriously tempted to just pull my cock out and start jerking off. Mom was sitting in front of me, her huge, beautiful tits bouncing—at my command—and I hadn’t cum for a day or two.

But Marcie would be home any minute, and once she’d put in some face-time with Lucy, I knew that her nubile body would be wrapped about mine, her holes would be mine to fuck as I chose, and she’d rub herself to orgasm after orgasm as I fucked her wherever, however I liked.

“Stop bouncing,” I said, at the sound of the car pulling up.

The new dress code would probably be a shock to her—I made a mental note to add it to her memory, that Mom and Lucy had always dressed like sluts around the house. It wouldn’t be hard—Marcie’s mind was mine to do as I pleased.

Just like her body.

Session 28: The sight of Lucy on her knees in front of me, licking my cock with gusto, would probably have been enough to get me off by itself, but when combined with the feeling of her soft, wet tongue moving up and down my shaft, the way she swirled it around my head and stimulated what I’d just learned was my frenulum ... It didn’t take me long before I was ready.

“Now,” I moaned, and she looked up at me with a smile, opening her mouth and catching my cum.

“Thank you,” she said softly after swallowing my load, and I nodded before putting my cock away, handing her some water to wash the taste out of her mouth and waking her up.

Session A62: My cock was practically straining out of my jeans when they arrived—I’d just woken Mom up, and now I was standing behind her, staring at her perfect ass, thanking God that I’d found that website when I did.

“We’re home,” my sister said as she walked through the front door. I tried to hide my erection as I strolled over to say hi to Marcie.

“Oh,” she said when she saw me, trying to act casually. I hoped my mother and sister hadn’t noticed the way her eyes had flicked down to my pants, or the slight breathiness in her voice.

“Hey Master.”


	Chapter 17

As Mom delivered a new stack of pancakes to my plate, I looked around, marveling at my new life.

Beside me, Lucy was lifting a forkful of her syrup-laden breakfast to her mouth, taking care not to get any on her bare breasts. In front of me, my mother’s magnificent tits were dangling, just begging to be touched.

Mom blushed when she noticed me staring, but she didn’t say anything. She turned the stove off and sat down to join us at the table.

It was cold that morning, so all four of the nipples staring me in the face were hard. I knew from experience how sensitive Lucy’s got when erect, but I could only wonder about my mother’s. Was the gentle breeze enough to turn her on? Was she getting aroused just from sitting there, topless, or would she require some more direct stimulation? Was I imagining the damp spot I’d seen in the middle of her panties?

The meal went quickly (the combination of great cooking and an even better view will do that) and all too soon, Mom was clearing the table.

“I should get dressed for work,” she said, and - as instructed - Lucy got up to give her a hug before she left the room. There was nothing quite like it: four huge breasts pressed up against each other, their soft skin coming into contact, the look of lust on Lucy’s face when she noticed me staring... 

As soon as Mom closed the kitchen door, Lucy was on her knees in front of me, desperately swallowing my cock as fast as she could.

“Cum for me,” she gasped after a few minutes, taking a break from bobbing her head up and down. “Please ... cum on my tits.”

I moaned, and she started stroking me faster and faster, looking up at me pleadingly, pinching her nipples so hard I thought she was going to rip them off.

“Cum on my tits and imagine they’re Mom’s...”

It was that mental image which set me off, and soon my cock was spurting, coating Lucy’s tits with my cum. She shut her eyes and began rubbing it in, and soon she was shaking with pleasure.

I smiled down at her, watching as she silently came from the sheer pleasure of getting me off. She was everything I’d ever dreamed she’d be, and more.

As she came down from her high and started to clean herself off, I glanced at the kitchen door, wondering if Mom was pressed against the other side, touching herself as she listened to what her children were up to... 

**Session A62:**

I froze.

What had Marcie just said? Had she just called me master? In front of Mom and Lucy?

Why the fuck would she ... oh.

It dawned on me. I vaguely remembered telling her to call me that when she was under. I’d told my sister’s best friend to call me master, and I hadn’t thought to specify when it was or wasn’t appropriate ... like when we were in front of my unsuspecting mother and sister.

Fuck.

For the last few months, I’d been hypnotizing my sister Lucy, her best friend Marcie, and my mother. See, as long as I can remember, I’ve been attracted to my family members. You might think that’s sick, but you’ve got to understand - both Lucy and my mother have **perfect** bodies.

I know. I’ve seen them.

The trouble is, even when hypnotized, you can’t make someone do what they don’t want to do. Trust me - I’ve tried everything, but if you push someone too hard when they’re under, they just wake up.

What you can do, however, is work out when people **will** do things. Like take Lucy - she would never normally show me her tits.

She’d never show **me** her tits.

But if we were at a nude beach, if she was showing the world ... sure. Then it wouldn’t be so weird for her brother to see her tits. (She has no idea how I feel about her - as far as Lucy’s concerned, I’m just her sweet, precious little brother, not someone totally obsessed with turning her - and Mom - into my own personal sex slaves.)

And if I’d already **seen** them, then suddenly it’s not as big a deal.

The trick, I’d worked out, is hypotheticals - “What if I’d already seen your tits at the beach, and you were feeling insecure about them, and you wanted the opinion of someone you can trust - someone you know isn’t trying to sleep with you.”

Suddenly there’s a situation where it makes total sense for a sister to bare her tits to her brother.

It’s all about limits. If you can find someone’s limits then with enough time and effort, you can move them. I’d discovered (totally by accident) that if you set up a hypothetical that tests the very edge of a limit, that thin line where their answer could go either way, where they **want** to say yes but feel like that **have** to say no... 

They wake up. And they accept the hypothetical as reality.

If you can find someone’s limits, you can alter their very memories. And what are we, if not a collection of memories?

So far, I’d managed to use this to turn Lucy’s friend Marcie into my own personal sex slave, I’d gotten Mom to start walking around the house in skimpy outfits, and I’d managed to get Lucy topless, licking my dick until I came in her mouth.

I had done so much already, but I was sick of pushing limits.

Now: I wanted to destroy them.

I wanted to fuck my sister. I wanted to watch her fuck Mom. I wanted them to wake me up each morning with their mouths, and I wanted to drift off to sleep each night with my cock deep inside one of their asses.

But first, of course, I had something more pressing to deal with.

**Session B34:**

“I belong to you.”

“Call me Master.”

“I belong to you, Master.”

“So if you belong to me, you’ll fuck who I tell you to fuck. I own your pussy, don’t I?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I own your boobs, don’t I?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And I own your pleasure, don’t I?”

“Yess ... Master...”

**Session A62:**

Trying to look natural, I glanced at my sister and mother, hoping they hadn’t noticed what had just slipped out of Marcie’s mouth.

They were both staring at her, a curious look on their face.

Yeah ... they’d noticed.

My mind was racing. How the **fuck** do you explain away your sister’s best friend casually calling you master, in front of everyone? A thousand possibilities ran through my mind: pretending it was a game, laughing it off, acting like Marcie was crazy, telling them I was a dom and she was my sub, telling the truth... 

Before I had time to land on any of them, Lucy spoke up.

“What’d you just say, Marce?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What was that?”

Feigning ignorance wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had.

“I was just saying hi,” Marcie said. To my great relief, she was looking just as confused as the rest of us - I barely remember telling her to call me master in the first place, so it clearly hadn’t been a big deal. She might not even have been aware there was anything weird about it.

Mom and Lucy still looked suspicious, but the moment passed, and Lucy took her friend away to catch up.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to see Mom looking at me suspiciously.

Fuck.

**Session B34:**

“Who owns your mouth?”

“You do.”

“Who owns your body, Marcie?”

“Y— ... you do.”

“Who owns you?”

“You do.”

“Who decides when you cum, Marcie?”

“You do.”

**Session A62:**

Without even meaning to, my eyes flicked down to Mom’s chest. There were obviously more urgent matters at hand, but I couldn’t help myself - they were so **big** , so beautiful... 

Of course, I’d convinced her that family members never, ever saw each other in a sexual light, so she didn’t even register my glance.

“What’s up?” I asked, still trying to be casual.

“Is there something going on between you and Marcie?”

My heart-rate quickened.

“What do you mean?”

There was no reason for Mom to connect Marcie calling me master to our hypnosis sessions (Mom didn’t even know I was hypnotizing Marcie - she knew about Lucy, but not her friend) but I still felt like I was standing on the verge of everything collapsing.

“I mean...”

Mom paused, and pursed her lips. I would have given anything to know what she was thinking - stupidly, my main impulse was to hypnotize her. I wanted to ask what was running through her head ... but of course, if anything would make her start to question hypnotism, it was asking to put her under when she was already suspicious.

No, I had to talk my way out of it. And then I had to wait for **her** to approach **me** for another session - anything else was just too dangerous.

“ ... never mind. I just thought I’d ask.”

Jesus.

Now I was going to spend the next few weeks too nervous to do anything with Marcie when Mom was around. Not, of course, that we were exactly fucking in the living room before then, but I’d been planning to sneak Marcie into my room as soon as she was done hanging out with my sister... 

Oh, shit.

Marcie was with my sister right now. And Lucy was not the kind of person who would just leave Marcie’s “Master” comment slide. Marcie was probably getting the third degree right now ... and there was nothing I could do about it.

I thought my instructions had been clear - that we couldn’t do anything that drew attention to what we were doing. But I also didn’t remember telling her to call me Master in front of everyone, so clearly I hadn’t been as thorough as I thought.

In that moment, everything could have collapsed. My sister could have found out that Marcie was my personal slut. She could have learned about the hypnosis, and asked herself what I could have changed about her. She could have realized that the way she was dressing - the way **Mom** was dressing - it was all weird, new. She could have banned me from ever hypnotizing her again ... or she could have done what Mom did the other day, and just totally shut down.

As Mom headed up to her room to get changed (her revealing outfits were just for around the house ... after all, what did it matter if family saw your body?) I didn’t even glance at her yoga pant-encased butt. My head was spinning - I’d been so foolish, taken so many risks.

Everything I was working towards was at risk of falling apart. I didn’t know what to do... 

And so I just took some deep breaths. Nothing had happened yet - I’d wait until Marcie came back out. If everything was okay, I’d put her under, and I’d find out what they’d talked about. She’d tell me - I knew she would.

Until then, all I could do was I wait. And wait. Mom left for the shops, our grandfather clock chimed the hour, empires rose and fell, my heart-rate slowly returned to normal, and my mind stopped constructing elaborate, terrifying fantasies.

And after what felt like a thousand years (but was probably less than a decade), my sister’s door opened, and I could hear the sound of footsteps. Marcie came into the lounge room, and after glancing around to make sure that no one else was around, she smiled at me.

“Hey Master,” she said. “Want to go to your room and fool around?”

**Session B35:**

The first thing I did, of course, was get rid of that “Master” shit. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to survive this long without it biting me in the ass.

Don’t get me wrong - it was hot, but way, **way** too dangerous. Even when we’re alone; you never know who’s listening in.

The second thing I did was ask what her and Lucy had spoken about. And that was when I ran into an unexpected roadblock.

“Thanks for that - I’ve missed it.”

She paused, reached out one hand for my crotch, and a saucy smile came upon her face.

“Of course, not as much as I’ve missed this...”

Asking Marcie about what she spoke about with my sister woke her up. Just the act of asking her. There was no hesitation, no clarification - one second she was under, and then as soon as I asked about the conversation with Lucy, she woke up.

What the fuck had they discussed?


	Chapter 18

**Session B36:**

I put Marcie under again straight away.

Well, not straight away. We had sex first - it was clear that she needed it as much as I did. I made sure she was quiet, and that we were quick; the last thing I needed was Mom coming home discovering that I was lying to her, and that my sister’s best friend had suddenly become my casual fuck buddy.

Of course, for Marcie we were more than just casual partners. I’d implanted a total obsession in my sister’s bestie - as far as she was concerned, she’d been thinking about me while playing with herself since she first started masturbating. “Master” wasn’t just a fun nickname - to her, it was the absolute truth.

As soon as we were done (which wasn’t long) I put her under. I’d trained her well; she didn’t even question why I wanted to hypnotize her again so quickly.

And this time, I tried a more subtle approach.

“Okay Marcie; would you tell me what you and Lucy talked about?”

“No.”

No hesitation, no pause, nothing.

This was new. On one hand, I was still worried ... but immediately post-orgasm it’s harder to stress me out, and so now I was just sort of intrigued by the puzzle that had presented itself.

“Would you tell me why you won’t tell me?”

“Yes.”

My subjects had all gotten good at interpreting complex questions.

“Why won’t you tell me what you and Lucy talked about?”

“It’s private.”

I sat back thoughtfully. I’d assumed that turning Marcie into my personal sex-slave, happy to wrap herself around my cock whenever the opportunity presented itself and do everything short of fucking her father ... that, to me, suggested absolute obedience.

But apparently not.

“Would you tell me if you’d tell her about you and me?”

“No.”

Damn it.

“Would you tell me if you told her why you called me Master?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell her why you called me Master?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s private.”

I could almost feel my heart-rate slowing. Okay. My sister may or may not know about my sexual antics with Marcie, but she surely wouldn’t know the full extent of it.

Marcie, it seemed, had a strong sense of privacy. On one hand, that was clearly to my benefit. If Lucy found out that Marcie was dedicated to serving my sexual needs, I can’t help but feel that she’d become a tiny bit suspicious.

On the other hand, it was sort of bugging me.

I had total access to her body: she would do literally anything I asked her to in the bedroom, and I’d assumed I had equal access to her mind.

Incorrectly, it turned out.

I know it didn’t really matter, I know I should have just let it slide. But I’d found a limit (something that hadn’t happened for a long time with Marcie) and it was almost a point of pride.

I wanted to know what she wasn’t telling me, and why she wouldn’t share.

And so with a glance at the door - it was locked, so no one could barge in - I set to work. If they insisted I come out, I knew it would be tricky to explain why Marcie was in my room, but it was better than having them walk in and finding her naked and hypnotized.

“Okay,” I said, after a moment of thought. I felt like I was rolling up my sleeves and working on an old favorite project - Marcie had certainly never been **boring** , but our last dozen or so sessions hadn’t presented much of a challenge. “Hypothetical: the house is on fire. Lucy and I are both trapped under ... pieces of wood.”

House fires are not one of my areas of expertise.

“You only have time to save one of us before the roof collapses. Who do you save?”

“Lucy,” she replied in her familiar monotone, without even a moment of hesitation.

Well, I suppose that settled that. She prioritized Lucy over me, despite the obsession I’d implanted. I wasn’t exactly jealous - “sisters before misters”, after all - but I felt like the secret to cracking the safe of secrets I’d just discovered was to switch that order, make her more loyal to me than to my sister.

There were a few ways to go with that. I could break them up; create a hypothetical where Lucy pissed her off in some way, or have them drift apart ... but something about that felt wrong. I, after all, have my limits as well, and making my sister lose her best friend wasn’t something I was interested in doing.

Plus it would mean that Marcie came around less often, and **that** was unacceptable.

I could try to strengthen her relationship with me, but I genuinely couldn’t think of any way to make Marcie **more** loyal to me than she was already. As far as Marcie was concerned, she’d been romantically and sexually obsessed with me since the moment we met. Where do you go from there?

For a moment I considered how she’d react to the threat of losing me. Maybe she’d be so appalled by the idea that her barriers would break down ... again though, that didn’t sit right with me. I’d turned Marcie into my pet, and the idea of being cruel to her wasn’t something that appealed in the slightest.

When we’d started, she’d been my sister’s less-attractive friend. Now, she was someone quite special to me (the girl who took my virginity, for one) and I didn’t want to do anything that would hurt her.

I was stumped. I sat there, looking at the naked, obedient (but not quite obedient **enough** ) girl sitting in front of me.

And that’s when it struck me. The solution to a few different problems that had been bugging me.

I didn’t need to ruin Marcie’s relationship with my sister, I just needed to adjust it. Change the nature of it. Right now, Lucy was the best friend, whereas I was just the ... boyfriend, I guess. Fuck-buddy. However you want to put it.

Master.

If, however, I made Lucy’s relationship with Marcie **sexual** ... we’d **both** be sexual partners, and it would be child’s play to ensure that I was the alpha. She’d be viewing both of us in the same light, and all I’d need to do was ensure that she preferred me to Lucy.

And, as an added bonus, I’d be making another fantasy come true: Marcie and Lucy, making out, wrapping their bodies around each other ... I was getting hard just thinking about it. I’d seen both their faces as they came, I was starting to work out what turned them on, what got them off.

What’s more, I knew that Marcie was interested in this. She’d told me in the past about her sexual fantasies involving Lucy. And from my Japanese game show hypothetical, I knew that Lucy was interested in girls ... well, at the very least, she was interested in making out with them.

This was going to be fun.

“Okay...” I wracked my brain, trying to remember the last time we’d run this scenario. “Hypothetical: you and Lucy are hanging around at the pool.”

Nod.

“She’s wearing her red bikini, and you’re in that black one you once dreamt was being ripped off you by Bigfoot.”

Nod. I not only have an in-depth knowledge of my sister’s bikinis, I also know a bunch of details about Marcie’s weird sex dreams.

“You’re chatting, and you decide to make a move.”

Shake. Damn it, my memory of the fantasy is too fuzzy. Last time I just recounted her fantasy back to her, and she agreed to way more than I expected.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh, acknowledging my own memory’s weakness. “Tell me about the sex dream you had about Lucy, with the bikinis and the making out.”

“Lucy and I are sitting beside the pool,” Marcie started, her black stare and monotone not making the retelling any less hot. “She’s wearing her black bikini, and I’m in my leopard-print one.”

(I was fairly sure that it wasn’t my choice of bikini that had screwed things up.)

“She gets up and starts to walk away. We’re both really turned on though, and when she turns back to me, I take off my bikini, exposing myself to her. She’s sucking on my nipples, and I can feel her drinking my milk...”

I cut her off. Marcie’s dreams get abstract so quickly, and her scenario wasn’t exactly helpful. But it had served its purpose of reminding me what I’d said last time; I’d had Marcie suggest making out, to tease me through the window.

It was sexual, so I was fairly sure I could get Marcie to do it, and it involved teasing me, so I didn’t think it would be hard to get my sister on-board as well. From there, it would be an easy progression ... and here’s the best thing about hypnotizing people: nothing actually has to happen in real life.

Not until everything is set up, anyway.

I could run separate hypotheticals with both of them, construct an elaborate fantasy, until they were regular lesbian lovers ... and then make it “true” for both of them. I could turn their relationship from best friends to lovers in an instant, provided I did the proper groundwork.

And believe me, it was groundwork that I was happy to do.

“Okay, Marcie. Hypothetical: you and Lucy are sitting by the pool. I’m inside, and you can tell that I’m checking you out.”

Nod.

“You decide to tease me.”

Nod.

“You’re wearing a leopard-skin bikini, and my sister is in her tight little black number.”

Nod.

“You know that I can hear your conversation, and so to turn me on, you ask my sister if she wants to practice making out.”

Shake.

What?

I wracked my brains for a moment until I remembered: in the last hypothetical, this had been earlier, when I was in the full-body cast from the time I’d been hit by a truck. (I’d made sure to write all the details of my “accident” down - both Marcie and Lucy thought this was something that had actually happened, and if they ever asked about it, I wanted to make sure that I didn’t contradict myself.)

That obviously wouldn’t work this time, unless I retroactively had their lesbian relationship start then ... but, of course, that would bring potential contradictions of its own. Would Marcie have started fucking me if she was getting off with Lucy?

I could try having the two timelines run simultaneously, but the image of my mother staring blankly at the family photo album came to mind, and I decided not to risk it.

This was going to be trickier than I’d thought. Still, the easiest way to get somewhere would be to experiment.

“Okay, new hypothetical. You’re having a sleepover with my sister.”

Nod.

“You two are sharing a bed.”

Nod. I was tempted to have her sneak down the hall and get me off (something about that idea really pressed my buttons for some reason) but I decided not to let myself get distracted.

Especially since that was something we could actually do. For real.

“You wake up from a sexy dream...”

Nod.

“ ... and find yourself really turned on.”

Nod.

“You ask Luce if she’s awake.”

Nod.

“And she says yes, in a voice that tells you she’s really turned on as well.”

Nod. I don’t know what kind of voice that would be, but Marcie had accepted it, and that was good enough for me. This memory would be a good one for Lucy to share, too. I knew from previous sessions how far I could push my sister when she was hypothetically sleepy and aroused.

“There’s a long, tense silence between the two of you...”

Nod.

“ ... and you decide to reach out and grab her boob.”

Shake.

Yeah, I guess that isn’t really the smoothest of moves. How do half-asleep girls hit on each other?

“There’s a long, tense silence ... and you ask her if she’s turned on.”

Shake. Too confrontational, I guess?

“There’s a long, tense silence. You’re laying facing each other.”

Nod.

“You lean forward and press your lips against hers.”

Shake. Okay, maybe Marcie doesn’t like being the aggressor. But I know (again, from experience) that my sister enjoys taking the lead.

“There’s a long, tense silence. Lucy leans forward and presses her lips against yours.”

Nod. We got there!

“What do you do?”

“I lean back.”

“What?”

“I lean back.”

“What then?” I asked, in the hope that this could be somehow salvaged.

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

Okay. Maybe the approach had been wrong. I started the hypothetical again, but this time I cut the long, tense silence and went straight from “Are you awake?” to the kiss.

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

Over the next twenty minutes, I blew right through my standard time-limit. I re-ran that hypothetical a dozen times, and every time, I got the same answer:

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

I tried other scenarios: by the pool, at the movies, in the girl’s bathroom, drunk at a party ... no matter what I did, Marcie refused to make a hypothetical move, and every time hypothetical Lucy did, she got rejected by the same line.

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

Finally, I admitted defeat. But before I woke Marcie up and sent her on her way, I asked her a question ... a question I should have asked after the scenario failed the third or fourth time.

“Would you ever hook up with my sister?”

“No.”

I sighed, and glanced at the clock. Mom was almost certainly home by now, else I’d try a different approach, come at the problem from another angle.

What the **fuck** had they talked about?


	Chapter 19

Session 29:

Something was wrong.

It had been four days since I’d last hypnotized my sister ... that wasn’t what was wrong, though it certainly wasn’t helping.

No, I hadn’t put my sister under for four days **because** something had gone wrong. Something had changed, and I didn’t want to risk making a move until I had a better understanding of what.

Don’t get me wrong - I desperately **wanted** to hypnotize her, for so many reasons. To see her tits again. To cum on them, or have her lick my cock until I came into her mouth.

But more than anything, to find out what the fuck was going on.

Four days ago, Marcie had come home, chatted to my sister, and then refused to tell me what they’d talked about. She hadn’t been around again since, else I would have tried to push her and find out what was happening.

But without knowing what they’d talked about, I didn’t want to go around to Marcie’s (in case it exacerbated the problem) and I didn’t want to ask Lucy if I could hypnotize her.

I was stuck, stalemated without knowing why. I couldn’t take any actions ... I had to wait until they came to me. And for whatever reasons, no one was.

Even after all this time, I don’t really understand what people think is happening when I put them under. I know that they find it relaxing, and that no matter what we talk about they wake up happy and feeling refreshed, but what do they think I’m saying while they’re out? My mother, my sister, Marcie - how do they explain the missing time?

I don’t know that I’ll ever know. But whatever they think is going on, I know that they like it.

And so after four agonizing days, my sister approached me and asked if I’d put her under.

“Okay Lucy,” I said as soon as her eyes glazed over and her whole body relaxed. “The other day, when Marcie got home and you two went into your room to talk: would you tell me what you guys talked about?”

“No,” she said, and I tilted my head to the side thoughtfully.

Something had happened in that conversation - something that had changed everything. See, since that day my sister had stopped teasing me.

Not that it had ever been explicit; she’d never flashed me her pussy or stripped off her clothes and danced or anything like that. But since it had been suggested, my sister had thoroughly embraced the idea of teasing me with her body - I got regular glimpses of her cleavage, her panty-clad ass. If it was just the two of us, she’d walk around in lingerie or a bikini, casually showing herself off for her younger brother.

I’d convinced her that it was something I wouldn’t even notice. Believe me, pretending not to pay attention to my sister’s incredible body was a hell of a challenge ... but I’d always managed.

But for whatever reason, the teasing had stopped. Something had changed, and I needed to know why.

“Would you tell me why you’ve stopped teasing me?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me why you won’t tell me what you talked about?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me ... I paused. I’d mentally run this conversation a thousand times over the last few days, but I guess I’d been more optimistic when it was in my head. I hadn’t expected to hit nothing but a billion consecutive dead ends.

Sitting there, staring at my sister in silence, I made a decision. This session wasn’t going to end without me moving forward. Sure, I’d taken a step back - now it was time for two steps forward.

I’d waited too long and worked too hard for this bullshit. It was time for a change, and if that meant taking a different tack, that was what I’d do.

“Okay Lucy,” I said. “Would you ever make out with Marcie?”

Nod. Not even a moment of hesitation. It looked like my sister knew what was what, even if Marcie insisted on being difficult about it.

“Do you think Marcie would ever make out with you?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me why not?”

“No.”

God damn it.

“Do you know why not?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. In one of the billion times I’d run this conversation through my head, I’d come up with something that I was hoping not to use, but was sure would be effective.

“Hypothetical: Marcie is dead.”

Nod.

I know, I know. It was a pretty dark direction to go. But I wanted - no, I **needed** to know what had changed, and as long as Marcie was “alive”, I knew that Lucy would never betray her trust.

All I had to do was be **very** careful not to accidentally wake Lucy up. If she thought Marcie was dead and then ran into her on the street, or got a text ... it would not end well, of that I was sure.

“She was hit by a car crossing the road. She didn’t feel any pain when she went.”

Nod. Not immediately, but when she did nod, it was firm. Confident. Lucy’s face remained totally blank, but a single tear fell from her eye as I watched, fighting my instinct to tell her that everything was fine, that Marcie was alive and well.

I love my sister, after all, and the last thing I want to do is cause her any pain. But I needed results, and I was sure that this was the way to get them.

“After the funeral, I pull out a bottle of whiskey, and ask if you want a drink.”

Nod. I was slightly taken aback by that - I’d half-expected her to refuse that, and only agree when she was the one providing the alcohol. She normally liked to drive these things, after all.

I guess she was in shock?

I decided not to question the gift I’d been given, and continued.

“What do you say?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “Please.”

“I hand you the bottle and you take a swig.”

Nod.

“You hand it back, and I drink as much as you did.”

Nod.

This was going better than I had expected.

“An hour later, we’ve finished half the bottle each, and we’re both pretty wasted.”

Nod. Great. I’d never used alcohol in a hypothetical before, but I was fairly sure as the drink hypothetically pumped through her veins, it would serve to lower her defenses.

“I start talking about Marcie.”

Nod. Another tear trickled down the side of my sister’s face, but I pressed through. You don’t make an omelette without breaking a few hearts.

“I ask what the last thing you guys talked about was.”

Nod.

“What do you say?”

My sister paused, and I panicked. If she woke up now she might think she was drunk, and she’d definitely think Marcie was dead.

“Wait!” I said, and my sister’s blank eyes focused slightly, a sort of disturbing sight. “Will you tell me the last thing she talked about with her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Phew. Still, better safe than sorry.

“I ask what the last thing you talked about with her was. What do you say?”

In a slurred voice, my sister responded with a single word:

“You.”

****Session B43:****

“Would you fuck my sister?”

“Yes.”

“Would you eat her out?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let her go down on you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you most want to do with her?”

“I want to suck on her tits. I want to suck on her nipples and watch her face as I do. I want to roll her nipples around my mouth, and then reach down and feel how wet I’m making her. Then I want to slip two fingers into her wetness and listen to her moan.”

I unzipped my pants, and positioned myself at her entrance.

“Keep going,” I said. “I’m going to fuck you while you talk.”

She nodded and moved her hips into place, not pausing for a second.

Session 29:

I held my breath.

So, it had happened. My sister had discussed me with Marcie. What did she know? Why had things changed?

What had been said?

“I nod. Do you continue?”

“Yes.”

“What do you say?”

“She told me about you,” she said slowly. For a moment, her eyes flicked down, and my heart skipped a beat. My sister couldn’t wake up. Not now. Not during this. “She told me ... what you guys do.”

“Will you tell me specifically what she said?”

Nod.

“What specifically did she say?”

“She said that you guys had been hooking up for a while.”

“What else?”

“She said...”

Again, that pause, and again that moment of panic. This time I didn’t interrupt, and after a beat, Lucy continued.

“ ... she said that it was good.

“Real good.”

I stared to the side, my brow furrowed. Marcie had told my sister that we were hooking up. Despite specific instructions not to, she’d disobeyed my order and told my sister that we were having sex, and that we had been for a while.

And as a result, my sister had stopped teasing me.

Why? It didn’t make any sense. Why would what I did with Marcie stop her from showing off her body to me?

Unless ... A thought suddenly struck me, and I quickly worked out the best way of testing it out.

“Forget that hypothetical,” I said, and my sister’s subtle sway disappeared. It was fascinating to see: in an instant, she was stone-cold sober, staring blankly, attentively waiting to hear what I said next.

“Question: What sexual things would you do with me, in the right circumstances?”

“None,” she said in her soft monotone. “I will never do anything sexual with you.”

****Session B120:****

“Okay,” Lucy said softly, glancing at Marcie, an excited look on her face. On Lucy’s face, that is. Marcie’s face was just the same as it always was - blank. Empty. Flat.

Dead.

Even when she came, her expression barely changed. If I’m being honest, there was something weirdly hot about it.

Hot and sad, in roughly equal measures.

Unzipping my pants, I pulled my cock out, and Marcie’s eyes focused on my head. Most people would have said that her face hadn’t changed an iota, but I’d been staring at her blankness for a long time now, and I was starting to learn how to read it.

She smiled. As much as she ever would, anyway.

Lucy, meanwhile, beamed. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against Marcie’s, and the brunette immediately started kissing her back.

Lucy took Marcie’s hand and placed it on my cock, which she expertly began rubbing and tugging.

“Good girl,” I murmured, and shivered with pleasure as the kiss began to move towards my erection. Soon their tongues were dancing across my head, and Marcie’s hand moved up to gently play with my balls.

Session 29: I sat back, completely thrown for a loop.

“Say that again,” I ordered, and my sister repeated exactly what she’d said.

“I will never do anything sexual with you.”

“No matter the circumstances?”

“No matter the circumstances.”

“Would you discuss sex with me?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Would you discuss masturbation with me?”

“No.”

Wow. This wasn’t one step back, this was half a dozen. That was a limit that hadn’t even existed when I’d **started** hypnotizing her.

A part of me was tempted to wake her up, spend more time thinking, but I knew what had happened.

At least, I had some pretty strong suspicions.

Until now, everything I’d done with Lucy had been under the guise of me being totally innocent. The 34 to 37 times she’d jerked me off, the kiss, the teasing ... especially the teasing.

Every step of the way, Lucy had thought she was leading things and that I was just along for the ride. She’d seen me as a rube, totally new to the world of sex. She’d been the corrupter, and I’d been the innocent, unaware of what was truly happening, never seeing the whole picture, never understanding what it really meant.

But now ... She knew.

My sister didn’t know how I felt about her, thank god. But she knew that I wasn’t innocent. Lucy knew that I’d been involved with Marcie; she knew that I’d had sex.

She knew not only that I’d had sex, but that I was skilled.

Everything had changed.

****Session B120:****

I swear, every time my sister’s tongue reached out and met her best friend’s, Marcie came. And I don’t mean every couple of minutes - no more than twenty seconds went by without Lucy’s tongue reaching out and caressing Marcie’s.

And each and every time it did, Marcie came.

Would I have still gone down the path I did, if I’d known what the outcome would be?

I’d like to say no, but it’s honestly hard to answer. As I stood there, pants around my ankles, two beautiful, horny teens making out, my cock in the middle of their passionate kiss ... What had happened to Marcie was awful, of course. And worse; it was entirely my fault. It’d gotten greedy.

But moments like this ... it’s hard to have regrets when everything feels this good, y’know?

And even for Marcie, I can’t honestly say that I’d give it all up.

Session 29:

“Okay,” I said calmly. There was a way back from this, I was sure of it. “Would you ... would you talk to me about sex?”

“No.”

I couldn’t help but see it as a dead end, as a sign that I’d failed. Marcie was meant to be a test subject, a way of trying stuff out before using it on my family, but I’d gotten greedy and used her for sex.

Now ... I was paying the price. My careful plans with Lucy were ruined. Every idea I’d had for future sessions was gone.

29 sessions in, I’d managed to go backwards. Everything I’d accomplished ... every hypothetical I’d thrown her way, every limit I’d managed to push, gone.

My sister probably wouldn’t even let me **see** her tits, let alone jerk off on them. If she caught me jerking off in the bathroom, she’d probably keep on walking.

Licking my dick until I came in her mouth? Not a chance in hell.

My greed had caused me to pay the ultimate price. I’d lost everything, just because I wanted to get my dick wet. I’d fucked the best friend, and now the prize was gone forever.

No. No, it couldn’t be over. This was a step back - that’s all it was. One step back. Maybe two.

And then - forward, in a running sprint.

After all, Lucy wouldn’t let me see her tits when I first started. It took months for her to get me off with her mouth. But I’d gotten so far, I’d learned so many tricks.

My sister’s limits had shifted. In the wrong direction, sure, but they were still pliable. Flexible. I knew how far they could be pushed, and so it was only a matter of time.

I just had to find the right hypothetical.

“Okay,” I said, after a deep breath. “Hypothetical: you, uh, you come into my room and find me and Marcie hooking up.”

Shake. Yeah, that made sense. Now she knew what she was up to, no way she was entering a room without knocking.

“Hypothetical: you find me crying...”

Shake.

Shit. Tears were off the table. They’d been responsible for so many breakthroughs, but now ... now I was in new, unexplored territory. No more safety net.

If I wanted to move forward, I had to go to places I’d never been before. Places I thought I’d never go.

“Hypothetical...”

I wracked my brains, before remembering the newest tool I’d added to my arsenal.

“Hypothetical,” I repeated, a huge grin on my face. “You come home to find me holding a large bottle of scotch...”


	Chapter 20

**Session 29:**

“Truth,” my sister slurred. “ ... or dare?”

It hadn’t taken long to get my sister hypothetically drunk and playing her favorite party game.

A game of truth or dare that had gotten increasingly sexual.

Not the dares, I should specify. No, I didn’t want to do anything that would risk my sister waking up, and so I’d kept the dares stupid - the kind of dares that you see people doing in movies all the time.

Honestly, I’ve never been drunk. But Lucy has, and so her brain was able to fill in the gaps.

“I pick truth,” I said - I’d been admitting all sorts of outlandish things, testing answer after answer until I found something that my sister would believe. The trick, I figured, was vulnerability without judgement. The more dark secrets I admitted to, the more of my soul I invented to reveal, the more likely Lucy was to admit secrets in return.

And then once she had, who knew what would happen? Maybe drunk Lucy would make out with her brother. Maybe drunk Lucy didn’t need her brother to be innocent in order to get with him.

Maybe drunk Lucy would fuck her brother.

There was only one way to find out.

“Tell me,” she said, a wicked gleam flashing into her otherwise-blank eyes, “ ... when you’re having sex with Marcie, do you ever think of anyone else?”

I considered throwing her a line about a celebrity, or a girl at school. I considered mentioning Marcie’s mom or a hot cousin, but after a few seconds of thought, I decided to go for broke.

After all, what was the worst that could happen? She’d wake up, and I’d try again next time.

“I pour you another glass of whiskey,” I said, hoping that my hypothetical offering wouldn’t be enough to knock her out. “The room is spinning, but you’re listening closely to my response.”

Nod. At least, I think it was a nod. Despite there not being even a drop of alcohol in her body, Lucy was starting to lose control of her faculties, and the motion of her head was more of a circle than a straight up-and-down.

“I ask you to repeat the question. What do you say?”

“I said,” Lucy said, way too loudly, “when you fuck Marcie, do you ever think of anyone else?”

She jumped as the word fuck slipped out of her mouth, as if someone other than her had said it. It was obvious that it hadn’t been the word she’d meant to use, but she didn’t pause or apologize, just emphatically finished the question.

“I pause,” I said, and she again gave me that a weird, circular nod. “And when I answer, it’s obvious that I’m very drunk. It’s clear that this is something I wouldn’t normally admit, but I’m totally wasted, and I completely trust you.”

Again my sister nodded, and I smiled. This was going to work - I knew it was.

**Session B123:**

Marcie came each time my sister did. She came each time I did as well. Truth be told, each time Lucy breathed particularly heavily, or vocally enjoyed one of my thrusts, Marcie would cum.

My sister had taken over the blowjob while Marcie watched, and as I thrust into her mouth again and again, I wondered what it would be like to fuck Marcie.

Y’know. In her current state.

I’d fucked her before the blankness - countless times. But since ... well, since things had changed, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to.

I wondered, though. I wondered pretty often. What would it be like to fuck someone so ... responsive?

Not, of course, that it was going to happen. She couldn’t even eat by herself - she had to be spoon fed. Her father mostly took care of that. I’d seen the look in his eyes as he desperately tried to pretend she wasn’t cumming every time the spoon entered her mouth.

She definitely wasn’t on the pill, and that was an obvious reason not to do anything with her. I’d done enough to Marcie already - leaving her with a child wasn’t on the table.

Sure, I could wear a condom. But I’d gotten so used to sex without one in the last few weeks, I didn’t really want to go back.

**Session 29:**

“What do you say?”

“ ... me?” she repeated, shocked. “But I’m ... I’m your sister?”

“I say it again, just as drunk: that sometimes, I think of you. I’m speaking in a loud whisper, and it’s obvious that I think I’m being quieter than I am.”

The more details I give, the more believable the hypothetical is. The fact that my sister hadn’t woken up was a good sign, but as she sat there processing, that familiar fear came back.

Sure, the only implanted memory would be “one time you and your brother got drunk.” But maybe she’d remember my confession.

Maybe she’d remember me saying that I thought about her during sex.

As Lucy swayed back and forth, wide-eyed, taking my words in, I started to relax. If she was going to wake up, she surely would have done it by now. No, this wasn’t anything to worry about.

This was something to celebrate.

I didn’t think she was going to make a move, not this session. But we were slowly inching into a new direction - maybe even somewhere further than where we’d been, before her conversation with Marcie. Before she’d learned that I was ... what’s the term the doctors use? Sexually active.

Before she’d started seeing me as a sexual creature.

Adrenaline was starting to pump through my veins. Sure, it sucked that I wasn’t going to see her tits again any time soon, or feel her tongue on my cock. But those had never been the real aim - those were steps on the path to where I wanted to be.

Complete sexual servitude.

No one becomes a sex slave to someone they don’t see as a sexual being. The fear disappeared, and now I was excited.

My sister knew that I was sexually active. She saw me as sexual, and that meant I didn’t need to trick her into “helping” me out. Not any more.

Now I just had to convince her that I was someone she wanted to fuck.

“What do you say?”

“Wow,” she said in a loud whisper. “Wow.”

I could have left it there, but I was too pumped up. I decided to see what else I could do, where else I could go.

What doors I’d opened up with my confession.

“I ask you truth or dare. What do you say?”

There was a short pause before she settled upon an answer.

“Truth.”

“Are there any topics that are off-limits at this point?”

“No.”

“If I asked you a sexual question, would you answer?”

“Yes.”

“What if I asked you something really personal. Would you tell me?”

“Yes.”

“What if I asked about your fantasies?”

Again, that tiny pause, but her answer came strong and clear.

“I’d answer honestly.”

**Session 5:**

“Wait, so you **will** tell me where Marcie keeps her spare key?”

“Yes.”

“But you just said you wouldn’t.”

No answer. I guess that made sense; I hadn’t asked a question.

I was still figuring out how it all worked, but I was fairly sure I’d just made a breakthrough.

“Where does Marcie keep her spare key?”

“Under the pile of bricks beside the back door.”

Good to know.

Well, not really. I couldn’t imagine a situation where I’d ever be hanging out with Marcie without my sister around. But it was good to know that if she’d tell me in a specific circumstance, she’d tell me whenever she was under.

I wondered if everything worked like that.

“Would you ever let me drive your car?”

“No.”

“Okay,” I said, the gears in my mind quickly spinning. “What if you were stung in the eye by a bee, and I needed to take you to hospital?”

My sister’s allergic, and thinking about getting stung really freaks her out.

“Would you let me drive your car then?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I don’t have a license?”

“Yes,” she repeated, and I smiled.

“Okay. Let me drive your car.”

“Wow!” she said, blinking rapidly and hitting me with a grin. “That never gets old.”

Huh.

I didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but I felt like I was starting to get the hang of it.

**Session 29:**

“What do you think about when you masturbate?”

“You.”

No hesitation. That was a good sign - before the shift in how she’d thought about me, I’d only been able to get this information through hypotheticals, but since we’d ‘bonded’ through the game of truth and dare, I was able to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.

If I could get her to admit something while she was in a hypothetical, she’d admit it whenever she was under. Any information she’d reveal hypothetically, she’d reveal any time she was hypnotized.

Unfortunately, actions don’t work like that - I was sure I could come up with a hypothetical that required my cock in her pussy, but unless I rebuilt those circumstances exactly, she’d never let it happen.

“What specifically?”

“I think about your cock. I think about touching it. I think about holding it. I think about watching you cum.”

“What do you think about my cock?”

“I love it.”

To some extent, I knew all this ... I mean, after all, I’d caused it. I wanted more - I wanted to push it further, to dig deeper. After all, she’d given me carte blanche. She’d said that she would answer sexual questions, no matter how personal. My confession about thinking about her while having sex with Marcie had opened the floodgates, and now her hidden desires were pouring out.

“Why do you love my cock so much?”

“Because it’s forbidden.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my brother. I shouldn’t be lusting after you.”

Interesting.

Getting her to think about my cock whenever she came had tricky, but I’d managed it. Until now, I’d never really questioned **what** about it turned her on.

I guess on some level I’d imagined she was thinking about the image but not what it meant, like she was just thinking about “a cock”, and it just happened to be the one belonging to her brother.

It made way more sense that she was coming at it from the same angle as me.

I desired Lucy and Mom so much because I couldn’t have them.

I mean, I was pretty sure I’d still want them **after** I could have them ... but before I’d discovered hypnosis, they’d been these unattainable beauties. I loved them, but that was irrelevant - I wanted them because I knew I shouldn’t.

For years I’d been telling myself it was nothing to do with them being related to me, it was just their bodies, but Lucy’s words made me realize the roots of my own desires.

I wanted them not **despite** their relationship to me ... but because of it.

“Does that turn you on?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s sexy that you’re my brother. It’s sexy that wanting you is so taboo. I find it arousing, knowing that I shouldn’t find you hot ... but I do.”

I smiled. I was so close to fucking my sister, I could taste it. She wanted me, and she (hypothetically) knew that I wanted her.

“How do you feel about me finding you sexy?”

“It turns me on. It turns me on knowing that my body makes my brother hard. It turns me on, knowing that my brother is turned on by his sister. And it turns me on knowing that all of these thoughts are wrong. It’s naughty. It’s wrong. And I love it.”

**Session B37**

“Okay Marcie,” I said, leaping straight into it. “Would you make out with Lucy if I told you to?”

Shake. That was disappointing - I thought I’d worked it out. Marcie was so obedient, so loyal; I was sure that her reluctance to make out with Lucy was because she didn’t want to disappoint or betray me.

Nope. I was no closer to working out why she’d do anything I commanded except make out with her best friend who she was clearly attracted to.

Now that I’d found out what they’d been talking about (me, and how good I was in bed - not gonna lie, that felt good) my priorities had shifted. I didn’t have anything particularly pressing to do with Marcie, and so I was determined to make a long-held fantasy come true, and get her together with my sister.

“Is there any circumstance under which you’d make out with Lucy?”

“Yes.”

I can’t believe I didn’t think of this last time. I’d spent twenty minutes trying different hypotheticals, when I could have just asked.

“Would you tell me what it is?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“If you and I weren’t together.”

I paused.

“What?”

“I would make out with Lucy if you and I weren’t sleeping together.”

“Why?”

“I think it’d be fun. She’s very attractive and I’ve been attracted to her for years.”

I rolled my eyes and clarified.

“Why won’t you make out with Lucy if you and I are sleeping together?”

“I think it’s weird to hook up with a brother and his sister at the same time.”

Not going to lie - that’s fair. What amused me was that it hadn’t come up when I asked my sister the same question.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Session 29:

“What would you say if I asked you...”

I paused, trying to work out how to phrase it. Then I decided to just go for gold - I was so excited by everything that was happening. At worst, I tried again later.

And again, and again, and again. I was closer than I’d ever been - even when my sister had been topless, my cum dripping from her nipples, I hadn’t felt this close.

“What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?”

“No.”

Made sense.

“What if we were drunk?”

“No.”

“What if we were really, really drunk?”

“No.”

I couldn’t tell if there was a pause before she answered, or if I was just being incredibly optimistic.

“Okay ... hypothetical. It’s the night of Marcie’s funeral, and we’re really, really drunk.” Poor Marcie. She always gets the worst of my hypotheticals with Lucy. “Would you have sex with me then?”

“No.”

“What if I told you it was her dying wish?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

I sighed. I hadn’t really expected that to work, but ... well, it would’ve been nice.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that there were only a few minutes left before I went over my self-imposed limit. I wanted to touch on her making out with Marcie again, but there was some other stuff I wanted to try first.

Not that the time limit was set in stone. I’d decided to limit myself as an act of caution, but if I hit gold, I was going to keep on exploring.

“Okay,” I said, giddy with everything that had been revealed so far in this session. “Hypothetical: Marcie tells you she wants to share.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: Marcie tells you that I’m so great in bed, you just **have** to try me.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: Mom gets a form of cancer that can only be cured by her children having sex.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: aliens arrive, and tell you that we have to fuck.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

I froze, my mouth already half-open, ready to suggest the next ridiculous hypothetical.

Had ... had Lucy just nodded? Had my sister just agreed to a hypothetical where ... where incest wasn’t wrong?

No. That didn’t make any sense ... I must have imagined it.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

“Uh...”

I paused.

“Okay. Hypothetical: we live in a world where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

“Would you fuck me?”

“Yes,” my sister replied, without a moment of hesitation.


	Chapter 21

**Session 29:**

My head was spinning. I’d made a ridiculous, impossible suggestion to my sister - a world in which incest wasn’t frowned-upon ... and she’d accepted it as truth.

I could wake her up now and she’d believe that incest was normal. She’d think that a sister and brother being attracted to each other wasn’t a weird perversion, but a standard part of life.

And she’d fuck me.

I had to put the brakes on. I knew this was dangerous territory and that waking her up could ... hell, I didn’t even know what it would do. Would her mind just adjust to any discrepancies between how she saw the world, and general societal opinion toward brother-sister fucking?

Or would it break her?

Even though I knew I was treading on thin ice, I couldn’t stop myself. I had to keep exploring, keep asking questions.

Over the next twenty minutes, I blew right past my standard time-limit, asking her every hypothetical I could. I asked her how she wanted to fuck me, and got her to describe it in great, dripping detail. Positions, scenarios ... hell, even role-plays.

For almost half an hour, I sat there with the biggest boner of my life as my sister Lucy told me every way she wanted to fuck me, every way she wanted to suck the cum out of me. She told me about how she wanted to make out with Marcie just to turn me on, just to get better at it. She told me about her fantasies of being my sex slave, of dedicating her life, her body and her mind to getting me off.

I’ll tell you what - I’d thought **I** was perverted, but now I knew it ran in the family. I suppose weeks of getting off while thinking about my cock had given Lucy plenty of time to think up a real smorgasbord of sexual situations, and this impossible scenario had uncorked the barrel.

But... **was** it impossible?

As my sister’s dirty words washed over me, my mind kept returning to that same question. What would happen if I brought her to the brink, woke her up with the idea that brother/sister relationships weren’t taboo after all?

Would she shut down ... or would she open up?

You can’t make someone do anything under hypnosis that they don’t want to do. But my sister’s words, passion and imagination were all telling me the same thing:

This wasn’t something she didn’t want.

**Session A63:**

The next day, Mom finally asked me to put her under again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when she did - even though she had no reason to suspect me of anything untoward, I hadn’t been able to shake the idea that she’d somehow managed to link hypnotism with the recent ... changes in the household.

Her whole new wardrobe. Lucy (for a while, at least) following suit.

Me and Marcie hooking up.

Mom’s not stupid, and the recent incident with Marcie had told me that I’d been clumsy. I needed to do some damage control ... but of course, until she’d come to me, I’d been too nervous to approach her.

It was a catch-22, or a vicious circle or whatever. Mom asking me solved it, but as I put her under, I reminded myself that I still had to tread carefully.

“Would you tell me if you’d noticed anything suspicious lately?”

“Yes.”

“Have you noticed anything suspicious lately?”

“Yes.”

Crap.

“Would you tell me what it is?”

“No.”

Great. Another rabbit for me to chase. Fortunately, by this point I was getting pretty good at it, and within a few minutes I had an oblique way of getting the information I needed from Mom.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything Lucy has been doing?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of anything Lucy has been doing?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of how Lucy has been acting?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of how Lucy has been acting?”

“No.”

That cleared my sister.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything you’ve been doing?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of anything you’ve been doing?”

“No.”

So it seemed that she wasn’t aware of any changes in her own behavior - still, I made a mental note to make sure to tidy up any loose ends that might attract her attention.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything I’ve been doing?”

“No.”

Ah ha.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything between me and Lucy?”

“Yes.”

That was a good sign ... still, just to be safe, I asked anyway.

“Are you suspicious of anything between me and Lucy?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of my behavior towards you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of my behavior towards you?”

“No.”

Great. Safe on that front too. And so that just left the obvious... 

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of things between me and Marcie?”

“No.”

“Are you suspic-...”

I cut myself off before I finished the question that I’d almost asked on auto-pilot. For the next few minutes, we sat in silence as I thought.

Thought, and - if I’m being honest - stared.

Mom was wearing a thin grey singlet and no bra. Even a month ago, she would only have ever worn this underneath fifteen other layers ... now, she was wearing it around the house without batting an eye. If she leaned the wrong way, she’d probably let a boob loose.

Believe me, it was extraordinarily tempting to test that. She probably wouldn’t even mind me staring - by this point, I had her thoroughly convinced that family members didn’t ever notice each other’s bodies.

No matter how mouthwateringly curvy they are.

“Okay Mom,” I said eventually. So she wouldn’t talk about it directly with me - fortunately, I had more than enough ways to get around that.

“Hypothetical: you think I’m hooking up with Marcie.”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me how you feel about that?”

“No.”

“If you thought it was a good thing, then would you tell me how you felt about it?”

“Yes.”

I paused a moment, checking the wording of what I’d just said. Yup, that was pretty airtight. Mom wasn’t happy about me hooking up with my sister’s best friend.

The main roadblock I’d encountered with my mother so far was getting her to talk about sex. Once we got past that, I knew I’d be able to make more changes, push more limits.

As it was, every time the topic came up, she woke up. It was frustrating as hell ... but maybe this new development was something I could use to make progress in that direction.

“Wait here.”

**Session A11:**

“It’s nice when someone finds you attractive, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s nice when someone looks at your body, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You like the feeling, don’t you?”

“I can’t believe how good that still feels. Don’t wait too long before the next session, will you?”

“Of course not, Mom.”

Walls. Walls at every turn.

**Session A63:**

I’d never left a subject alone while they were under before, but I had an idea that couldn’t wait. Less than five minutes later I was back, a sheath of papers printed from the internet in my hand.

“Read these,” I said, and enjoyed the view of my mother’s huge, unrestrained boobs as her eyes darted back and forth over the information I’d provided.

Normally I’d have had her read them while she was awake (like when I got her to read the Bible) but I couldn’t work out any way of casually dropping a human sexuality textbook into my mother’s “to-read” pile.

“Would you tell me what they said?”

“ ... yes.”

Her hesitancy made sense, but I wasn’t worried. I’d printed out the fancy-looking cover of the textbook the pages came from, and my mother is a sucker for authority - if the President had rocked up and told her to fuck Lucy, I bet she would have done it without hesitation.

Actually... 

No. I slapped the thoughts back. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought to follow.

“It’s a study on happiness. It shows that people who have sex more than three times each week are happier people.”

“Your son having sex with Marcie makes him happier, doesn’t it?”

“Y ... yes,” she said. There was that hesitation again, but she pushed through.

Still, I took the pages away from her. If she woke up now, the printout would be another loose end that I didn’t want to clean up.

“It’s important that your family is happy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s important that your son is happy.”

“Yes.”

“You should do what you can to help your son be happy.”

“Yes.”

“It’s important that your son has regular sex, isn’t it?”

There was a long, long pause, and I was glad I’d hidden the papers. Just as I thought Mom was going to wake up, she answered.

“ ... yes.”

Progress! It may not have sounded like much, but this was by far the most conversation I’d ever had with my mother about sex.

“So it’s good for your son to hook up with Marcie, isn’t it?”

“No.”

I raised one eyebrow. Not the answer I’d been expecting.

“Would you tell me why not?”

“Yes.”

“Why isn’t it good for your son to hook up with Marcie?”

“Because she’s not good enough for him.”

Again, an answer out of left field.

“What?”

“Marcie isn’t good enough for him.”

“I...”

I paused. I genuinely hadn’t expected this train of thought.

“Would you tell me what you think of Marcie?”

“No.”

I smiled. This was an easy mental lock to pick.

“Would you tell me if you didn’t like Marcie?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you liked Marcie?”

“Yes.”

There we go.

**Session A12:**

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever checked someone else out?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me who?”

“No.”

Of course.

**Session A63:**

So Mom didn’t like Marcie. Interesting. I didn’t know what I could really do with that, but it was definitely interesting to know. But I wanted to press through, and take advantage of the fact that I’d gotten Mom talking about sex.

“You want the very best for me and Lucy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That means you want us to be happy, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you and Lucy to be happy.”

“You want us to be as happy as possible, right?”

“Yes.”

“What did you just learn would make us happy?”

“People are happier when they have sex three or more times each week.”

Not so much as a pause. Amazing.

“So what should your children be doing to be more happy?

“Having sex three times or more each week.”

I choked down a burst of laughter.

“Say it.”

“My children should be having sex three times or more each week.”

I briefly considered taking advantage of her poor phrasing, but I knew it wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty amazing if it did though; it would probably be the first ever time that poor grammar led to parentally-approved incest.

“Do you think Lucy should find someone to have sex with?”

There was a long pause to that one. I didn’t want to risk ending the session, and so after ten seconds I jumped in.

“Let me rephrase. Do you think Lucy should have sex three or more times each week?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I should?”

“Yes.”

This was by far the most I’d managed to get my mother to talk about sex. Maybe I should have started printing out textbook pages for her earlier.

“So you think I should have sex three or more times each week, right?”

“Yes.”

“But not with Marcie, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said with a pause. “So what would be the best way to make everyone happy, including you?”

“If you found someone else to hook up with.”

I had a sudden thought, and leaned forward, excited.

“What if that person was **you**?

“I swear, it’s better than a massage. My headache is completely gone - thanks so much, kiddo.”

Yeah, okay. Didn’t really think that one through.

**Session A12:**

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever been attracted to someone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

“Who else?”

“Thanks so much! You’re really getting good at this.”

God damn it, Mom. How did you become such a prude?

**Session A64:**

The next morning, I woke my mother up for an early-morning session. It was a bit risky, after the abrupt ending last time I’d put her under, but she’d once told me that my hypnotism was “as good as sleep.” I knew she was incredibly busy for the next few days, and so if I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize her until the end of the week.

And it was obvious what I’d done wrong. I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

“Okay Mom.”

I paused. Not because I was at a loss for what to say next; just to enjoy the view. She was wearing her semitransparent nightgown again, and since she didn’t think I was attracted to her, I could blatantly check her out without it being an issue.

Those tits. Someday, I was going to see them without a thin layer of lace in the way.

Some day, I was going to get my hands on them.

But not today. I’d learned from Lucy - sometimes you have to go backwards in order to go forwards, and that was what I had to do with Mom.

“Hypothetical: You think Marcie and I are hooking up.”

Nod.

“You think Marcie and I are having sex.”

Nod.

“You don’t think she’s good enough for me.”

Nod. My lip curled into a frown. I didn’t like that Mom didn’t like ... well, not ‘my girlfriend’ exactly, but ... someone who was very important to me. And Lucy’s best friend, at that.

Still, this wasn’t the time to get caught up on that.

“You think I deserve someone better.”

Nod. I hesitated - I was fairly sure this path wasn’t going to work, but it was worth a try.

“Lucy also needs someone to hook up with, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Lucy is good enough for your son, isn’t she?”

There was a long pause, but to my surprise, Mom answered:

“Yes.”

I knew it was the phrasing that had let me get away with that, but I stored it away for future reference. Mom thought her children were good enough for each other - I was **sure** there was something I could do with that.

“People are happier when they have sex three or more times each week, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Generally speaking, are you a happy person?”

“Yes.”

I knew that asking directly would just wake her up, but I was fairly confident I could skirt around the issue and get Mom talking about her sex life, at least in the abstract.

“You could be happier, couldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you do everything you can to be as happy as you can?”

“No,” Mom admitted, and - don’t ask me how - her monotone simultaneously managed to have a tone of warning and a note of sadness in it.

“Can you think of something specific you could do to be happier?”

“Yes.”

“What’s stopping you from doing it?”

“I...”

There was a slight pause, and I jumped in. I’d already woken Mom up by accident once, I didn’t want to do it twice in two days.

“Would you tell me what’s stopping you from doing it?”

Again, a slight pause, but this time it was followed by a firm “Yes.”

“What’s stopping you from doing it?”

“I don’t have a man in my life,” Mom admitted, her blank eyes staring straight at me.

**Session A12:**

“Would you tell me if you like feeling sexy?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you like the attention of men?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you ever admire yourself in a mirror?”

“No.”

Seriously?

**Session A64:**

I sat back thoughtfully. There were a lot of paths in front of me, but none of them led anywhere obvious.

Realistically, I was still a **long** way off doing anything sexual with Mom. I could barely get her to discuss sex, let alone run her long tongue up and down my ... well, anything connected to me.

But at the rate things were going with Lucy, there was a chance - a remote one, but still a chance - that things would start getting steamier between us. And if nothing else, I needed to make sure that Mom didn’t catch us, or who knew **what** would happen.

The image of her staring blankly at the family album popped back into my head, and I shuddered. That was something I knew I had to avoid at all costs.

Making sure Mom didn’t suspect anything, or freak out if she did. That was the order of the day.


	Chapter 22

****Session C8:****

“Tell me what the article is about, Richard.”

“It said that...”

There was a pause, and for a moment I thought he was going to wake up. That would be awkward - I didn’t really want to implant a memory of me getting him to randomly read a sexuality textbook.

Fortunately, the hesitation passed, and he answered in a deep monotone that I was getting increasingly familiar with.

“ ... it said that the subject’s happiness is increased when they have sexual intercourse more than twice each week.”

Richard is some kind of professor, so it doesn’t surprise me that he stated it more formally than my mother had. I was hoping that his academic background would also mean that he paid more heed to studies like the one I’d just had him read, but it could have gone either way.

Only one way to find out.

“Do you agree with those findings?” I asked, after getting him to hand the book back.

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

“Why?”

“The data is there, plus ... well, it makes sense.”

Great.

“Do you have sex more than twice each week, Richard?”

“Thanks so much for that - I don’t really know why it helps, but it does.”

Fuck. Eight sessions in and this was the first time I’d accidentally woken him up early. It was my own fault, of course, but still - I’d gotten so good at this.

At least I’d finally found something I could use.

****Session A64:****

“Would you tell me why you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“No.”

I was sure that answering that question would unlock a lot of doors.

“Would you ... would you tell Lucy why you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“No.”

“Would you tell Marcie?”

“No.”

Made sense. Luce and Mom are close, but they aren’t exactly giggling besties and I had already established that for whatever reason, Mom didn’t like Marcie

“Would you tell me if there’s anyone you would tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children to?”

Whew. What a mouthful. But she answered straight away.

“Yes.”

“Is there anyone you would tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me who?”

“Yes.”

“Who would you tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“Other parents.”

Interesting.

Not, of course, that there was anything I could particularly do with that. But it was definitely interesting.

I wanted to fuck my mother. Believe me, if you met her, you’d understand. And if you’d seen her the way I had - doing laundry in her panties and a tight T-shirt, watching TV in a sexy teddy that I’d ordered online and added to her wardrobe ... you’d want to fuck her too.

But right now, that wasn’t the priority. Right now, I wanted her to be okay with me and Lucy fucking. Or at least ... not notice.

“Okay,” I said. “You want to avoid talking about sex with your children, right?”

“Yes.”

“So if you walked in on one of your children having sex...”

I paused, but Mom showed no signs of waking up.

“ ... you would have to talk to them about it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to avoid walking in on your children having sex, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So if they’re in a room with the door closed, what will you do?”

“Knock before I come in.”

Damn. I mean, that was obviously better, but what I really wanted was for her to avoid the door entirely. If - fingers crossed - I managed to get Lucy in bed in the next week, I wanted to make sure that Mom wasn’t going to knock and ruin everything. I wanted Mom to stay away.

Well, honestly, I wanted Mom to join in ... but I wasn’t there yet, I knew that.

“Okay,” I said after a moment’s thought. “You want your children to be happy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And your children will be happier if they’re having sex three or more times each week, won’t they?”

“Yes.”

“If your children have their door closed, they might be having sex. Right?”

“Yes.”

Bit of a pause, but we got there.

“If you knock, they’re going to stop having sex, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

A longer pause that time, but nothing worth worrying about.

“So if you knock on your children’s closed doors, you might be stopping them from having sex. Right?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re knocking on your children’s doors, you’re stopping them from being happy. Is that correct?”

This time, a significantly longer pause, but it wasn’t long before the answer came through clearly.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to stop your children from being happy?”

“No.”

“What will you do if your children’s bedroom doors are closed?”

“Nothing.”

“Will you knock on the doors of your children’s bedrooms if they’re closed?”

“No.”

Good. Now, of course, I just had to see if the change in attitude transferred to real life.

****Session A171:****

“What does it mean if your children’s bedroom door is closed?”

“They’re having sex.”

“And what will you do if your children’s bedroom doors are closed?”

“Press my ear up against it.”

“Why?”

“In the hope that I...”

There was a long pause, but I’d learned a while ago that with Mom, I just had to push through it.

“ ... in the hope that I can hear them.”

****Session A64:****

I considered waking her up, but I had a few more minutes on the clock, and one last thing I wanted to check.

“It’s important that your children are happy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

It could be argued that I was over-relying on the one theme, but ... well, it was so effective. Maybe because it’s such a primal urge, or maybe because it’s something that’s always on a single mother’s mind, or maybe just because of the way Mom is built, but starting from a point of “your children’s happiness” was just so reliable.

“People who have sex three or more times each week are happier, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Your children should be having sex three or more times each week, shouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

I loved hearing her say that.

“But they can only be doing that if they know about it, can’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Your son knows about it already from the textbook, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“But Lucy doesn’t know, does she?”

There was a brief silence before Mom’s soft monotone gave the answer.

“No.”

“Someone needs to tell her, don’t they?”

Again, a silence - much longer this time. I wasn’t worried though; we weren’t in the middle of a hypothetical, and so Mom waking up wasn’t a total disaster.

“Yes.”

“You and I are the only ones who know about it. Who do you think it should be?”

I was genuinely curious to hear the answer to this one. For whatever reason, Mom didn’t like talking to us about sex, but I could hardly imagine her recommending I tell my sister she needed to get laid more.

The pause stretched on, but Mom showed no signs of waking up. Finally, she answered.

“Me.”

My lips curled in triumph. Apparently Mom’s refusal to talk about sex didn’t apply when her children’s happiness was in the way.

Keep in mind, I had no idea if she was actually going to follow through on this. I can sort of change attitudes, but slowly drifting someone awake during a hypothetical was the only way to directly alter my subjects’ minds.

And that was certainly achievable. I could easily concoct a hypothetical situation where she’s being hypnotized by me (true) and wakes up with a burning desire to tell Lucy the new facts she’s learned about sex and happiness ... but I wasn’t really sure if it was worth it.

After all, it was information that I could just give Lucy directly, and I don’t really know what the benefits of my sister hearing it from Mom would be. It might make Mom suspicious, it might make her question the hypnosis generally ... and, of course, Lucy might notice something was up. Mom hasn’t talked to us about sex for our entire lives, so her suddenly rocking up and going “Hey, make sure you get laid on a weekly basis!” was sure to raise suspicions.

I ended up just waking her up without any orders to talk to my sister about what she’d learned. Still, it was good to know that her children’s well-being seemed to trump her restrictions on talking about sex... 

****Session 30:****

“Hypothetical: we live in a word where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

I still couldn’t believe it. It was tempting to spend another half-hour (or more) just listening to Lucy talk about all the things we could be doing, everything that she’d spent the last few weeks fantasizing about ... But I know that road, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Listening to my sister’s soft monotone describe all nature of sexual acts would be fun, but wouldn’t get me any closer to the real goal - **doing** them.

“Okay. New hypothetical: you have a dream in which incest is normal.”

Nod.

“You dream that you’re allowed to fuck your family members without any judgement, that you can have sex with your brother and no one thinks there’s anything weird about it.”

Nod.

“You wake up horny and disappointed.”

Nod.

“The next night, you have that dream again.”

Nod.

“And the next night, and the next night.”

Nod.

“Every night, you dream that you’re allowed to fuck your brother, that you and him do every sexual act you’ve been dreaming of...”

Nod.

“And every morning, you wake up soaking wet.”

Nod.

“Every morning, you play with yourself at the images from your dreams.”

Nod.

“You cum, thinking about your brother fucking you, thinking about sucking his cock, taking him in your ass. You get yourself off thinking about how wrong it is, about how sick you must be for thinking about it.”

Nod.

“More than anything, you want that dream to be real. Whenever you cum, you feel dirty ... and turned on by how dirty you are for having these fantasies.”

Nod.

Damn, sis.

As you can imagine, I was hard as a rock, and the change in my sister’s breathing told me that she was getting pretty worked up as well. I so badly wanted to tell her to take her top off, get her to lick my dick until I came in her mouth ... but I couldn’t.

What had quickly become my favorite way to cum was now off-limits, at least until I got my sister to the next stage, whatever that looked like.

“More than anything, you want to fuck your brother.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“More than anything, I want to fuck my brother.”

I sighed.

The temptation was still there. I wanted to wake her up thinking that the world of her dreams was reality. I wanted to wake her up, strip her off, and sink myself into my sister’s wet, willing pussy. I wanted to latch onto her perfect breasts and suck her nipples while she rode my cock ... but I couldn’t.

Not yet. Not until I knew what would happen.

****Session B37:****

“Okay,” I said, after briefly pausing for thought. “The only situation in which you’d hook up with Lucy is if you and I weren’t sleeping together.”

No response. Not that I particularly expected one - I hadn’t asked a question, after all. My mind was just rolling the information around, seeing what I could come up with.

“What if...”

My eyes slowly widened as an idea struck me.

At first, Marcie had been a testing ground - someone for me to try stuff out on before using it on my sister. Now, of course, she meant a lot more to me ... but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t also be a place to test new ideas.

“Hypothetical,” I said cautiously, as if afraid I was going to break her.

“You live in a world where hooking up with a brother and sister at the same time isn’t weird.”


	Chapter 23

****Session 30:****

“Would you tell me what you think of my relationship with Marcie?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of my relationship with Marcie?”

“I think it’s great.”

“Would you tell me why?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think my relationship with Marcie is great?”

“Marcie is really fun and cute, and she really likes you.”

“Are you jealous at all?”

Pause.

“Would you tell me if you were jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Are you jealous?”

Again, that pause. This time, however, I knew to wait it out.

“Yes.”

“Why are you jealous?”

“Because...”

There was another long silence, and I decided to play it safe.

“Would you tell me why you’re jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you jealous?”

“Because I ... because I want to be a part of it.”

Interesting phrasing.

“Do you want to sleep with your brother?”

“Yes.”

Wait, what? That was ... way too easy. We weren’t in a hypothetical, we weren’t in a world where incest was normal - we were in the real world, and she’d just said she would sleep with me.

I thought for a second, and then realized how I’d phrased the question.

“Would you ever sleep with your brother?”

“No.”

“But do you want to?”

“Yes.”

I heard once that the only way to get someone to do something is to make them **want** to do it, so hey, this revelation wasn’t something I was going to complain about.

But the way she’d worded her desire ... she wanted to be “a part of it”. I felt like I was missing something.

“Do you want to sleep with Marcie?”

Her response was so quiet I barely heard it.

“ ... yes.”

I grinned. Now, the million-dollar question.

“Do you want to sleep with your brother and Marcie at the same time?”

Again, the pause, and again the quiet response.

“Yes.”

****Session B38:****

“You live in a world where hooking up with a brother and sister at the same time isn’t weird.”

Shake.

Damn. For some reason, I thought that would work.

Actually ... why **had** I thought that would work?

I had Marcie give me head while I thought about it.

In my mind, she would immediately have agreed to that hypothetical; she’d have nodded, I could have woken her up, and I soon would have had some idea of how effective making a ridiculous hypothetical come true was.

Just as I was about to cum (sucking cock is something that Marcie is particularly skilled at), I realized why I’d thought she would agree to it immediately, despite its far-fetched nature: Because Lucy had.

Lucy had agreed to the ridiculous hypothetical I’d posed to her; the idea of a world where incest wasn’t taboo. I hadn’t had to coax her into it; the moment I’d suggested it, she’d nodded.

As Marcie silently swallowed my seed, my mind briefly went blank, but when I regained focus, I realized what the difference was.

Lucy’s fantasies had been long and detailed. The idea of being **allowed** to fuck me was clearly something she’d been thinking about for a while - that hypothetical hadn’t come out of nowhere, it was something that she’d been building up for a while now.

All I had to do was alter Marcie’s fantasies ... which was, of course, something that I’d gotten good at.

“Stop,” I said, and Marcie sat up with a blank expression, ready to listen and obey. “Hypothetical... 

“You’re having a sexy dream.”

Nod.

“In this dream, you’re going down on Lucy.”

Nod.

“ ... while I fuck you from behind.”

Pause.

I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again - worst-case scenario, she wakes up thinking she had a dream about going down on Lucy.

After a long silence, a tremor went through her whole body, a pulse of arousal. I was sure she was going to wake up.

Instead, she moved her head - so slightly I almost didn’t notice it.

Nod.

I grinned.

“The next night, you have a similar dream. This time, you and Lucy are both blowing me at the same time...”

Pause.

Tremor.

Nod.

****Session B39:****

“Would you tell me what you dreamed about last night, Marcie?”

“Yes.”

No surprise there. Marcie hadn’t kept a secret from me in a long time.

“What did you dream about?”

“I dreamed ... I dreamed that you had tied me up, and your sister was torturing me by sucking on my nipples. I dreamed that she had another mouth on her knee, and was licking my clit while she sucked on my nipples, and then you came inside me and I burst into a thousand pieces but you called me your perfect little slut and I came back together again...”

Marcie’s dreams can get a little weird, but the gist of it was there. Three days ago I’d told her to have recurring dreams about threesomes with me and Lucy, and it sounded like it was working.

Now, the next step.

“Okay Marcie, hypothetical: we live in a world where it’s not weird to hook up with a brother and his sister at the same time.”

Shake.

Wait.

What?

****Session B43:****

“What does my sister taste like?”

“I don’t know.”

I rolled my eyes. Duh, Marcie.

It wasn’t her fault, of course. When people are under, they’re extremely literal, and Marcie was pretty distracted at that moment. Every time I slid into her, she briefly had trouble breathing, but my questions never let up.

“What do you think she tastes like?”

“Sweet,” she gasped in monotone. “Sweet, and a little bit tangy.”

“Do you like the taste?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you will?”

“I don’t know.”

I thrust forward and my entire length entered her. Even through the trance, she gasped.

“But ... I can’t wait to find out.”

****Session B39:****

“Okay,” I said, sitting back thoughtfully. Maybe I needed to build up to it. “Hypothetical: we live in a world where...”

How on earth do you slowly build up to sleeping with a pair of siblings? I had a lot riding on the answer to that question.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where you can make out with a brother and a sister in the same night, and no one will judge you.”

Nod. Okay, great. Baby steps.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where it isn’t weird to date one sibling after you’ve dated the other.”

Nod.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where you can date a pair of siblings at the same time.”

Shake.

Dang it. What was I missing?

I thought back to when I’d come up with the scenario that my sister had unexpectedly agreed to. In that instance, I’d been coming from the opposite end - weirder scenarios.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where people have curtains for heads.”

Shake. Good.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where Richard Nixon is married to every woman on earth.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where metronomes cause blizzards.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where it’s not weird to hook up with a brother and a sister at the same time.”

Shake.

God damn. For the first time since I’d started these sessions, things were actually going **easier** with my sister.

****Session 31:****

“Okay. Hypothetical: you have a sex dream about me.”

Nod. I wasn’t expecting anything different, of course - after all, this was reality. I couldn’t even remember how long my sister had been having sex dreams about me now - sometimes I’d get up in the middle of the night and stand outside my sister’s room.

That sounds creepy, but I would just listen. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally I’d hear a soft moan. It was so fucking hot, knowing that she was in her bed, dreaming about me, turned on, wishing I was in her bed.

“In this dream, you’re naked, and I’m fully clothed.”

Nod.

See here’s the thing: I was on the verge of a breakthrough, I just knew it. And so I’d got to thinking ... having sex with my sister would be amazing, of course. It’d be something I’d dreamed about for literally years now, something I’d been working towards for 31 sessions (and counting).

But it wasn’t **everything** I’d dreamed of.

Fucking my sister would be amazing, and if that was all I ever got to do, I’m sure it would be great.

... but why stop there?

My fantasies weren’t **just** of cumming inside my sister. That was obviously a big part of them, but my wildest fantasies included so much more. I didn’t just want to get off with my sister.

I wanted to **own** her.

So, while I waited for Marcie to dream about screwing the both of us, while I made sure that my plan would work, I decided to take things one step further.

“You’re kneeling in front of me. I’m standing above you dominantly, and something tells you that this is your place. This is where you belong.”

Nod.

If I could change my sister’s reality to one where a brother and sister can have sex, why not take it one step further? Why not create a reality where sisters are devoted to their brother’s sexual satisfaction?

Why not transform my sister into everything I’d always dreamed of - a dedicated servant who spent all her time working out different ways to get me off?

It was within my grasp; I felt like I’d be a fool not to go for it.

“Do you like this dream?”

“Yes.”

Lucy answered in the same monotone as she always did, so perhaps I was imagining it, but I felt like there was a a slight breathiness to her response.

“You like being submissive, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You like the feeling of being my personal slut, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I like the feeling of being your personal slut.”

“You want to be your brother’s slave, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want to be my brother’s slave.”

****Session B39:****

I was tempted to get Marcie to go down on me again while I thought, but I wanted to keep a clear head. I kept running into some invisible wall, over and over, and I couldn’t work out why.

Lucy had agreed to a hypothetical world where incest wasn’t wrong. She’d agreed to it without hesitation, and then when I’d probed further, it was obviously something she’d thought about in great detail.

Giving Marcie recurring dreams about sleeping with the two of us hadn’t worked - I’d been hoping that by putting the images clearly in her mind, it would result in an easier acceptance of the hypothetical ... but that hadn’t worked either.

So what was the difference?

****Session 31:****

“The next night, you dream about being a sex toy for your brother.”

Nod.

“You dream that your sole function is to get him hard and get him off. During the day, you wait around the house, and when he gets home you greet him naked and do everything you can to please him.”

Nod. My dick was threatening to burst out of my pants, and my sister’s breathing was getting faster. Maybe she had a submissive streak already, or maybe she was living the dream as I described it, imagining herself asleep and getting wet at the images racing through her mind.

“Whenever he wants to cum, what will you do?”

“Present myself to him.”

“Whenever he wants to get off, what’s your job?”

“To get him off.”

“Do you like the dream?”

“Yesssss.”

“Do you want it to come true?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“So much.”

****Session B39:****

“Hypothetical!” I said. A thought had just struck me. “You have a sex dream about me and Lucy.”

Nod.

“Do you like the dream?”

There was a brief pause, but her answer was clear.

“No.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Yes.”

“But do you want it to come true?”

“No.”

There it was. There was the difference. She was having these dreams ... but they were just that. Dreams.

They weren’t fantasies.

Lucy had fantasized about a world in which she could fuck me, a world in which she could have guilt-free access to my cock. I’d given Marcie the visions, the dreams ... but I hadn’t given her the desire.

With a sigh, I cleared the hypothetical and started again. It would be a lot of the same imagery, a lot of the same ideas ... but this time, I had to make her want it.

****Session C9:****

“You would be happier if you had sex three times a day, wouldn’t you?”

“Possibly. It would depend.”

What? That wasn’t what I’d expected.

It took me a few seconds to realize what I’d said.

“A week. You would be happier if you had sex three times each week, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

I mean, I’m sure he’d be happier having sex three times a day as well, but that ... well, actually, maybe I could make that happen.

Baby steps, though. Baby steps.


	Chapter 24

After casually quizzing her to see if the suggestion had stuck, it had been a bit of effort to kick Marcie out.

After she’d swallowed my seed down, she’d wanted me to fuck her. I claimed to be out of condoms, ignored her (admittedly tempting) offer to go bareback in her ass, and sprinted up the stairs to Lucy’s room.

“Lucy!” I called through the door, but there was no answer. I opened the door, but she wasn’t home.

Unbelievable. I finally crack the code that lets me turn my sister into my own personal sex slave, and she’s not around to be turned.

After a few minutes of hunting, I found Mom in the back yard, hanging out the laundry.

“Hey kiddo,” she said, and I paused briefly to admire the silk robe she’d inexplicably decided to put on as soon as she got home. As usual, she didn’t even register my lustful gaze.

“You seen Lucy?”

“She’s out tonight, remember? She’s seeing the hip-hop.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that - Mom actually does a half-decent job of keeping up with the music Lucy and I like, but no matter who’s playing, she always calls it “the hip-hop”. She smiled at my reaction, and as she turned back to the pile of washing, her robe slipped slightly, revealing one of her thick brown nipples.

I was immediately hard as a rock.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya,” Mom said casually, and I sprinted to the front of the house. With Lucy out all night, I wasn’t going to be able to try anything there, and - despite my best efforts - I was no closer to getting one of Mom’s incredible nipples in my mouth than I had been when we started.

And that just left Marcie. If I ran, I might be able to catch her before she left.

**Session 32:**

“Okay, hypothetical: you live in a world where incest between brothers and sisters isn’t weird.”

Nod.

“It’s also normal for sisters to be their brother’s sex slaves.”

Nod. Jesus, Lucy. I was tempted to wake her up right then and there, screw the consequences.

I didn’t, of course. I was pretty sure everything was going to be fine with Marcie, but I wanted to be sure before I took any chances. And so in the meantime I was just practicing the perfect scenario, the exact hypothetical that I’d give her before waking her up ... and changing our lives forever.

“Mom’s upbringing means that she thinks it’s strange, so it’s something that needs to be kept secret from her...”

Nod.

“ ... but you secretly wish that she was included as well.”

Nod.

“You want your mother to be your brother’s sex slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I want my mother to be my brother’s sex slave.”

**Session B50:**

“Marcie? Marcie, can you hear me?”

I hadn’t managed to catch her driving away, but I was so worked up that I’d decided it was worth the hike over to Marcie’s house. Sure, I could have waited for Lucy to get home, but I had a willing fucktoy waiting ... no, **begging** for me to take her.

And it wasn’t like when Lucy and I finally did the nasty, I was going to have trouble getting it up.

Half an hour later I was out the front of Marcie’s place. Her car was out the front but no one answered the door. Figuring she might not have heard the doorbell, so I popped around the back, grabbed the spare key, and within ninety seconds I was up the stairs and in Marcie’s room.

That’s where I’d found her, tears running down her face, staring at the computer in front of her, looking like she was struggling to breathe. My heart leapt to my throat as I called out, but she completely ignored the sound of my voice ... until I began putting her under.

Within a minute, the tears had stopped, and she was staring straight ahead, that familiar blank look on her face.

“Marcie?”

She didn’t answer.

**Session A65:**

“Okay Mom: hypothetical.”

Almost everything was ready. I was only a few sessions away from testing the “sex with a brother and sister was normal” scenario with Marcie, Lucy was all set to become the sex slave I’d been fantasizing she’d be for so, so long... 

It was all going to plan. Except, of course, for my mother.

“Lucy’s door is closed.”

Nod.

Only hooking up with my sister while my mother wasn’t around ... well, I mean, obviously that sounded amazing, but I didn’t want to stop there. I wanted constant, unfettered access to my sister’s body.

“You need to talk to her.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I ... I wait until a better time.”

I smiled.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to interrupt.”

Great.

**Session B50:**

“Marcie, can you hear me?”

No response.

“Marcie ... would you tell me what’s wrong?”

That had worked with Mom, but Marcie didn’t even acknowledge that I’d said anything.

Fuck. **Fuck**. What the fuck had happened?

I tried asking Marcie a few more questions, but she didn’t say anything. And that’s when I thought to look at her laptop.

She was on a reddit thread - /r/sex, it looked like. A guy was asking about a potential threesome with a brother/sister pair, and the comments... 

Oh, shit.

The comments weren’t positive.

“sorry but it’s just wrong”, one redditor helpfully offered.

“that’s sick,” someone else said, followed by a winky face.

“I wouldn’t do it, but each to their own,” was the third-highest voted comment ... and as I kept reading, I realized that it was by far the most positive.

Oh, **shit**.

My mind was racing, trying to work out how I could undo the damage when I realized that wasn’t the only tab Marcie had open. “Brother-sister threesome”, “Sex with siblings”, “fucking my best friend’s sister” - they kept on coming. A mix of porn, Yahoo Answers, reddit threads, an incest-based Tumblr... 

Oh fuck.

What had I done?

**Session A65:**

Once Lucy was under my complete control, she wasn’t going to notice anything odd if Mom started wearing less around the house.

Not, of course, that there was much less that Mom could be wearing. Unless... 

I grinned broadly as I began setting up a new scenario.

“Hypothetical: You’re eight.”

Nod.

“One of your friends comes home from vacation, and she has a secret to tell you.”

Nod.

“Her family went to a nudist colony over the summer.”

I leaned forward, wondering if there was any chance this would take.

Nod.

Amazing.

**Session A69:**

“You’re twenty-nine.”

Nod.

“One of the women in your book club invites you to a weekend with them at a nudist colony.”

Nod. This was the fifth session of the night, and she’d gone along with everything with almost no hesitation.

“You’ve been interested in this since you were young, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you say when you get the invite?”

“I couldn’t,” Mom said. The contrast of her soft voice, glassy stare and provocative outfit never failed to get me hard.

“Why not?”

“I have two children at home,” Mom said, returning to a monotone.

“But do you **want** to say yes?”

“Of course.”

Excellent.

**Session A78:**

“What did it say?”

Mom handed back the article. I’d gone way over time, but I knew Mom wouldn’t care - I don’t actually know how the girls justify the time I spend hypnotizing them, but I’d started pushing it further and further and without running into any issues - and I had Mom and the house to myself, since Lucy was around at Marcie’s.

I grinned at the idea. They were probably eye-fucking each other whenever they thought they weren’t being watched.

The plan was to increase their lust for each other and then let it boil over ... hopefully with me in the middle of it.

My last session with Marcie was tomorrow - immediately after I was done with her, I was going to turn my sister and spend the night enjoying her body.

I was so close to what I’d been working towards for so long. I could taste it.

“It said that nudism was healthy, if done right.”

“What else?”

“It said that it could bring a family closer.”

**Session A90:**

Glancing at the clock, I knew that this had to be the last session of the day. Marcie was coming over in a bit, and I was going to finalize things with her.

“Okay Mom,” I said cautiously. “Hypothetical: you’re 34.”

Nod.

“You decide that you want us to have a nudist house.”

Shake.

Huh. I thought I’d laid the groundwork pretty well for this one.

“It’s healthy for a family to be nude together, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Family members can be naked around each other without it being sexual, can’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You want to be a nudist, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want your children to be nudists, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

I was tempted to ask if she wanted to see me nude - or, even better, Lucy - but I didn’t want to push it. I’d gotten this far by being ultra-cautious, and I didn’t want to screw things up now.

“You decide that you want us to have a nudist house.”

Shake.

What?

I mentally went through everything we’d talked about for the last few days - the benefits of nudism, the total lack of risk. I’d carefully implanted urges to be nude, urges to be a nudist ... but I couldn’t work out where I’d misstepped.

Of course, there was one easy way to find out.

“Why?”

“Because...” my mother said, and hesitated. Not long enough for me to worry, but long enough for me to work out what I was going to say if the pause grew long enough to wake her up.

“ ... I don’t want to talk about it.”

**Session B51:**

It had been a hell of a week.

I’d spent almost a full hour in our last session trying to get through to Marcie. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get a reaction.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Questions? No response. Orders? No response ... most of the time.

Sexual commands?

Immediate, enthusiastic response.

It was a combination of horrifying and hot.

**Session B50:**

“Okay,” I said, completely at a loss. Maybe honesty was the answer. “Hypothetical: for the last few months, I’ve been hypnotizing you to be my sexual slave. I lie to you, and convince you that it’s normal to sleep with a brother and sister at the same time ... even though it isn’t.”

Pause.

Nothing.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered. “God damn it. Fuck me.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Marcie’s hands were on my fly. Within moments, her panties were off and she was grinding against me, desperately trying to get my flaccid penis into her soaking wet pussy.

“Stop!” I yelped in fear, and to my relief ... she did.

“Take your clothes off,” I said cautiously. Again, in record time, she was naked and staring at me expectantly.

“Put them back on,” I said... 

Nothing.

**Session B51:**

I hadn’t done anything with her. How could I? I’d have to be some kind of monster to take advantage of her in that state.

I’d broken her. Somehow, I’d broken her.

After realizing I couldn’t get her redressed, I panicked. What would I do if her parents suddenly came home and caught me in a room with their naked, mindless daughter?

I erased her internet history, put her computer away, told her to lie down on the bed, woken her up (I think?)

... and ran.

It wasn’t the right thing to do. I know that.

But what other choice did I have?

**Session 33:**

I stared at my sister glumly. She stared back, glassy-eyed as ever.

This was suppose to be it. This was supposed to be the session where I did it, the one where I made my wildest fantasies come true. And hers, at that.

But now, after what had happened to Marcie, I couldn’t. Of course I couldn’t.

Instead, I was on damage control.

“Hypothetical,” I said with a sad sigh. “You and Marcie...”

I hesitated. After all I’d done to the poor girl, did I want to follow it up with this?

No.

But I had to.

“A few years ago, you and Marcie began to drift apart.”

Nod.

**Session B52:**

“Oh god, Jake...”

I gestured for my sister to keep her voice down. I hadn’t wanted to bring her, but it was the only way I was going to be able to get to see Marcie.

At the sound of my sister’s voice, Marcie shivered. Even if I hadn’t been warned, I would have recognized exactly what was happening.

After all, how many times had I watched Marcie cum?

“Jake...” my sister whispered, staring at me adoringly. “Did you really do this?”

I nodded.

“That’s so hot.”


	Chapter 25

**Session 33:**

“When Marcie and I started to hook up, she had less spare time for you.”

Nod.

I’d considered erasing Marcie and myself hooking up out of Lucy’s memories entirely. That would be safer, when she inevitably found out what had happened to her best friend.

But ... after seeing what happened to Marcie when she was presented with evidence of something that didn’t match her altered memories, I didn’t really want to take any risk.

And so I’d gone in the other direction.

“You were jealous of Marcie for getting to sleep with me, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you were jealous of me for getting to hook up with Marcie, right?”

“Right.”

A week ago ... hell, even a few days ago, that would have made me smile. But now ... I was doing damage control.

There was nothing fun about that.

“And so she started coming around less and less. Whenever we wanted to hook up, I’d go to hers.”

Nod.

I continued for fifteen minutes, spinning the tale of their friendship deteriorating. I kept in Marcie coming over after she got back from vacation, and telling Lucy that she and I were hooking up. I even left in the part where she called me “Master” - Mom had been there for that, and I didn’t want Lucy shutting down if she heard something that didn’t match with her memories.

When it was done, I leaned back and sighed. Now, at least it would take Lucy a few days to notice something was up when she didn’t hear from Marcie - and hopefully she wouldn’t be as crushed to learn what had happened to her.

But I still hadn’t gotten any closer to my ultimate goal. After a week of prep, of getting Lucy excited for a world where she could be her brother’s sex slave ... nothing. I wasn’t any closer.

All that time, wasted.

As I went to wake my sister up, a thought struck me.

**Was** it wasted?

Obviously I couldn’t go down the path that I’d been intending to - not without risking Lucy going as catatonic as Marcie had. (I shuddered at the thought.) But that didn’t mean that I had to start over.

After all, my sister had these fantasies. Maybe I couldn’t shape the world to ensure they came true ... but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t use them.

Glancing at the clock, I knew it’d have to wait for another time. I was fast reaching the half-hour time limit that I’d set. Going any longer than this made me uncomfortable - I’d gotten away with it with Mom, but there was no way of knowing whether I’d be able to do the same with Lucy.

Wait, no. There **was** a way.

“After you and Marcie fight, you come into my room and I hypnotize you.”

Nod.

“After waking you up, I hypnotize you again, straight away.”

Nod.

“Does anything about that seem suspicious to you?”

“No. I trust you. You’d never do anything that wasn’t for my benefit.”

I smiled. All this time, I’d been worrying for nothing.

Rolling up my proverbial sleeves, I decided to get to work.

**Session 34:**

It didn’t take long to wake Lucy up from the last hypothetical (I wanted to lock in her distance from Marcie before I started exploring what else I could do) and put her under again.

True to her word, she didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Would you tell me why you like being hypnotized?” I asked. I knew there was more important stuff on the agenda, but I had to know.

“Yes.”

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“It makes me feel closer to you,” Lucy said, and I smiled. That was a sweet thing to say ... and it was sort of true, too. Our sessions were bringing us closer together - far closer than she knew.

“Okay,” I said. “You wish you were your brother’s slave, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, and even though the word came out in a monotone, there was a distinct moan-ish quality to it.

“You want to fulfill your brother’s every sexual urge, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she monotone moaned. Moanotoned. Mono-moaned?

“You wish that your only purpose in life was to get him off, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If you could, you’d spend your every waking hour wrapped around his cock, getting it hard and making it cum again and again and again...”

Now I was starting to get carried away.

“Right?”

“Yes.”

We both wanted it so bad. And I knew we were close - we were so close.

So what the fuck was stopping it?

“So why don’t you?”

“Because,” my sister said, her blank eyes staring into mine. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Why?”

“Incest is wrong,” my sister repeated.

“Why?” I asked again, feeling like a kid bugging their parents.

“It just is,” she said, and a hint of sadness entered her monotone.

That felt a lot like a dead end. The only thing that I could really do from there was tell her that no, incest **wasn’t** wrong ... and that was what had lead to her best friend Blue Screen of Death-ing.

So I had to try another tack.

“Okay,” I said, after a few seconds to think. “You want to serve your brother, right?”

“ **Yes,** “ she montoned insistently.

“But you can’t do anything sexual with him because it’s wrong.”

“Yes.”

“But there are other ways that you can serve him, aren’t there?”

There was a pause, and I could almost see the gears in my sister’s hypnotized head turning.

“Yes,” she eventually admitted.

“Like what?”

“I could make breakfast for him.”

“Good,” I said, and I swear she preened slightly at the praise.

My sister making breakfast for me was a nice bonus. She’s pretty good in the kitchen.

I mean, I guess it had always been part of the long-term plan. My sister, naked in the kitchen, obeying my every command. The delicious breakfast hadn’t exactly been the goal, but I guess the time between getting off has to be filled somehow.

“What else?”

“I could help him with his homework.”

Sure.

“What else?”

For the next few minutes, my sister continued to list mundane chores that she could help me out with around the house. As she did, I was surprised to see her breathing getting faster, and a slight pink appear in her cheeks.

“It would be sexy to be a servant for your brother, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be hot to treat him as your master?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you wish you were his personal slave?”

“ **Yes**.”

“He wouldn’t even have to know, would he?”

“No.”

“It would be hot to be your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“It would be hot to be my brother’s secret slave.”

“Tell me that you want to be my secret slave.”

“I want to be your secret slave.”

“Do you know what else you could do for your brother?”

“What?”

“You’d do anything, wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause, and I realized that I’d gotten carried away. I was hard as a rock at the sight of my panting sister, practically getting off just at the idea of making my bed in the morning.

“As long as it wasn’t incest.”

“Yes.”

“Say that you’d do anything for your brother, as long as it wasn’t incest.”

“I’d do anything for my brother, as long as it wasn’t incest.”

“One thing you could do for your brother is give him something to look at.”

There was a pause as I let that sink in.

“You’ve been teasing your brother for months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, after a reluctant pause.

“It’s not incest if it’s only teasing, is it?”

Again, that reluctance, but eventually she admitted that it wasn’t.

I considered telling her that I wouldn’t notice, using the same lines that I had on Mom. That family didn’t notice each other sexually, or that it was totally safe ... but something held me back.

To begin with, it probably wouldn’t work. Telling my sister that siblings never noticed each other sexually wasn’t going to fly when she was getting herself off every night thinking of my cock.

But more than that ... it was totally counter to my goals. I wanted my sister to embrace the taboo of what we were doing, to revel in the inherent wrongness of her own feelings. Pretending that I wasn’t going to check her out ran counter to that - she already saw me as a sexual being, and for my long-term plans to work, I needed to lean into that.

“Imagine your brother getting hard at the sight of your body.”

There was a pause, and the blush deepening on Lucy’s cheeks told me that she was doing what I’d suggested.

“Hypothetical: you start acting as your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod. No hesitation.

“You get more and more turned on every time you do something for him.”

My sister nodded, fast and furious.

“Whenever he innocently asks you for something, you do it immediately.”

Nod. I hadn’t been sure how well she’d take that one, but it was clear that I was in ‘the zone’.

“You spend the entire weekend obeying your brother’s every command.”

Nod.

“You’re his secret slave, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“You spend all day anticipating his whims, trying to please him, and he never even notices.

Nod.

“That makes it even hotter, doesn’t it? You’re his secret slave, secret even from him.”

Nod.

“It becomes your life.”

Nod.

“All day, every day, whenever you’re at home you’re doing favors for your brother.”

Nod.

“Whenever he orders you to do something, you obey immediately.”

Nod.

“You’re in a constant sexual haze, aren’t you?”

“Yesss...”

“One day, he mentions that he likes your tight blue jeans. What do you do?”

There was a pause - it was so brief that if I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have thought that she’d answered immediately. But it was there.

“I put on my tight blue jeans.”

“Why?”

“Because...”

Again, that tiny pause.

“ ... he likes them.”

I grinned.

“Your brother is a hot-blooded male, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What do men like?”

My sister’s forehead creased for a moment, but she soon began listing stuff.

“Steak. Blowjobs. Action movies. Football. Stewardesses. Gadgets. Tom Sell-...”

I cut her off, despite being curios about how much longer she would have listed man stuff.

“Stop.”

As she stopped, I saw a slight shiver go through her body. She was **really** getting off on obeying me.

This was going to be fun.

“Your brother is a straight guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What do straight guys like?”

“Blowjobs. Women. Bikinis. Short skirts. Legs. Boobs. Sex with women. Facials...”

This time I did let her go on for a while. Eventually, when it was clear that she was running out of stuff, I began talking again.

“Men like being teased, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Straight men like women in skimpy clothing, especially if it’s for them. Right?”

“Yes,” my sister said, this time without delay.

“Your brother would like it if you wore less clothing around the house, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“It would be fun to do what your brother likes, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be hot to tease your brother, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It wouldn’t be incest though, would it?”

“No,” Lucy said, after a long pause.

“Hypothetical: you decide to become your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod.

“You obey his every non-sexual command, and do what you can to make his life better.”

Nod.

“You’re constantly turned on, your mind overtaken by lust.”

Nod.

“And you tease him, dressing in skimpy clothing as you do.”

Pause.

Shiver.

Nod.

**Session 35:**

That weekend was a blast. I didn’t have to lift a finger - every time I wanted something, either Lucy was already on her way or all I had to do was ask.

On top of that, the show was back. She must have changed outfits at least a dozen times over the course of the two days - short skirts, bikinis, tank tops. When Mom came home on Saturday night, Lucy was wearing a white button-up shirt and a tiny denim skirt with a thong underneath.

Only one button of the shirt was done up, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Mom didn’t say anything, of course - honestly, I don’t know if she even noticed.

After all, as far as she’s concerned: family don’t notice what each another are wearing.

But the best part was that unlike before, when I had to pretend not to notice when Lucy was leaning over in front of me and giving me a generous view of her cleavage (with a hint of nipple), I could stare as frankly as I liked.

No, more than that: Lucy **wanted** me to stare. She’d get down on her knees in front of me (to pick up something I’d dropped or whatever) and then stay there, biting her lip slightly as she noticed me staring directly down her top.

Her breathing would get faster and faster as she watched me checking her out, and then her eyes would flick down to my boner, and she’d make some excuse to leave.

When she came back, her face would be bright pink, and she’d be wearing a completely new outfit - one sluttier than before.

It didn’t take a genius to work out what she was running off to do.

By Sunday night, she was wearing something **clearly** not appropriate for around the house. I don’t think she even cared any more - she’d taken my comment about being in a sexual stupor to heart, and now she was just letting her pussy do the thinking.

It was a set of black lingerie - I’d guess that she stole it from Mom’s wardrobe, except I know that Mom doesn’t own anything like that (because I didn’t buy it for her). Either Lucy had gone shopping at some point since our sessions began, or - and I don’t know why this thought turned me on so much - she’d owned extremely naughty underwear even before I’d started working on her.

She looked great in it. I mean, you could make the argument that I’d think Lucy looked great in anything, but she really did rock this particular outfit.

It probably helped that there was practically nothing to it.

They were basically just a thong and a bra ... except without any of the material you’d expect a thong and bra to come with. Really, it was a set of black straps - the only thing that stopped them from revealing **everything** was the black fringe that hung down over her nipples and crotch.

Every time she moved, swayed, flounced, or was hit by the slightest of breezes, the fringe would shift, and for a single tantalizing moment, you could see everything.

Then, just as quickly, the fringe would settle, and it was all hidden once more.

Incredible.

The moment I saw them, my eyes practically fell out of my head, and just my reaction was enough to make Lucy whimper with lust. We just stood there for a few minutes, me staring at her ridiculous body, her getting increasingly flushed, her nipples hardening, her breathing turning into panting.

Less than five minutes after she walked into the room, she turned around again, leaving me watching as that perfect ass sashayed out of the room.

This time, I followed her.

I entered her room without knocking - if her guilty look hadn’t been enough to tell me what she’d been up to, the smell of female arousal in the room - or the position of her hands - would have.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, and when I told her to be quiet, her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.

She didn’t question me when I told her I was going to put her under. And when I had her staring blankly at me a few minutes later, I didn’t hesitate to execute the next part of my plan.

“Hypothetical: the attention from your brother turns you on.”

Nod. It would have been pretty silly if she’d tried to deny **that**.

“Whenever it gets to be too much, you go into your room and masturbate.”

Nod.

“Your brother hasn’t noticed that you’re his secret slave.”

Nod.

“But a part of you wishes that he would.”

Lucy nodded without even a whiff of hesitation.

“You fantasize about your brother ordering you around, treating you like his property.”

Nod.

“You wish that he would do that for real.”

Nod.

“You wish that he would dominate you, so you could be his submissive.”

Nod.

“It would be wrong to do anything sexual with him, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be wrong to commit incest with your brother.”

Nod.

“But being a slave doesn’t have to be sexual, does it?”

Slight pause, followed by a soft “No.”

“You’ve been a slave all weekend, and that wasn’t incest, was it?”

“No.”

“It wouldn’t be incest if you agreed to be his slave around the house, would it?”

“No.”

“You can be your brother’s slave without it being incest.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I can be my brother’s slave without it being incest.”

“You want to be your brother’s slave, even though it’s not sexual.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I want to be my brother’s slave, even though it’s not sexual.”

“You will obey your brother’s every command, as long as we aren’t committing incest.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I will obey my brother’s every command, as long as we aren’t committing incest.”

“A slave is a piece of property, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to be your brother’s property, aren’t you?”

Lucy shivered before replying.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m going to be my brother’s property.”

“You are your brother’s property.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I am my brother’s property.”

“I own you.

Nod.

“Say it.”

“You own me.”

“I own your body.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“You own my body.”

I smiled. A thought came into my head.

“Remember when I used to come and thank you each time I came?”

“Yes.”

“A master shouldn’t have to thank his slave, should he?”

“No.”

“I own your body, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“That means I decide what happens to it, don’t I?”

There was a pause, and I realized I was getting ahead of myself.

“As long as we don’t commit incest, I decide what happens to your body, don’t I?”

“Yes,” my sister replied without hesitation.

“I turn you on, and I should decide when you get off.”

Nod.

“I want to know how much I turn you on.”

“So much... -” Lucy moaned, but I cut her off before she could continue.

“Not right now. The rest of the time - when you cum, I want to be told about it. I want to know all the details; what you thought about, how you got yourself off. And then...”

I grinned broadly, drunk on the power I had over my almost-naked sister.

“And then I want you to thank me.”

**Session 36:**

I didn’t go much further that session. After getting her to repeat everything back, I put it in place with a hypothetical and woke her up.

You could make the argument that I could have pushed things farther than I did, but I already felt like I was in a dangerous area. Marcie’s face still haunted me (when Lucy’s body wasn’t distracting me) and without anyone to test stuff out on, I wanted to move slowly.

For a given definition of slowly, anyway.

But it all went off without a hitch - it took me a little bit of time to slip into the dominant role that I’d set up, but ordering my sister around was something I’d been fantasizing about for years, and soon I was really enjoying ordering her around. I even started pushing things a little bit - ordering her to flash me her panties (on the rare occasion she wore something to cover them), rub her body against me (avoiding genital-to-genital contact, of course) and describing the stuff I’d do to her if she wasn’t my sister.

She got so wet so fast - after just a few minutes of me telling her how much I wanted to plunge my cock deep into her wetness, she’d go bright red and practically run to her room... 

... and then come back a few minutes later to thank me, and describe her fantasies back to me.

After a few days of this, I was confident that she wasn’t going to suddenly break, and that I could safely start pushing her limits even more, trying to take things to the next level.

I was also going up the wall with frustration. I was so **close** \- my sister was wearing what I told her to, doing everything I ordered her to do, and describing her sexual fantasies to me in great detail.

In **real life**.

I’d gotten so far. I was so close.

But I wasn’t quite there yet.

“You’re my slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I’m your slave.”

“I own your body.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“You own my body.”

“Is there anything you won’t let me do?”

“Yes,” Lucy said quietly, and her blank eyes shifted slightly, as if trying to avoid eye-contact.

“What?”

“Anything sexual.”

I would have laughed, if the situation wasn’t so frustrating. I don’t know what you’d call rubbing against someone and telling them what you thought about when you got off if not sexual.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to take a cold shower, but I couldn’t.

Not while I was so close.

“Why not?”

“Because,” my sister said, her lips tightening slightly. “It would be wrong.”

“Would it?” I asked hopelessly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What if we lived in a world... -”

I cut myself off. Tempting though it was, I didn’t want to go down that path again.

An image of Marcie flashed through my head, my sister’s best friend silently sobbing as she took her clothes off.

I couldn’t.

“Okay.” I said, after a few minutes of thought. So I’d hit a limit? That’s what I was good at. That’s what I’d spent all this time getting very, very good at.

“Okay,” I repeated. “You won’t commit incest.”

Nod.

All I had to do was redefine incest. All I had to do was move the boundary of what was and wasn’t incest.

And **that** was something I knew was doable.

What’s more, I had a great idea of how to do it.

“Is being naked near each other incest?”

There was a long pause, but before my sister could answer, I butted in.

“If a brother and a sister accidentally walk in on each other while naked, is that incest?”

“No.”

“So being naked near each other can’t be incest, can it?”

There was a long pause, but my sister eventually had to admit that I was right.

“No.”

“I own your body, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And so I decide what you wear.”

Nod.

“You’ll do whatever I want, as long as it isn’t incest.”

Nod.

“Being naked in front of a sibling isn’t incest.”

Nod.

I was fairly sure I was safe, but I wanted to check all bases before I proceeded.

“Lucy,” I said slowly, not sure if I was really going to burst through this wall, “take off your clothes.”

“Yes, master,” she said, stood up, and started stripping.

Within a minute she was standing naked in front of me, blushing as I stared at her, my mouth open in shock and admiration.

I’d seen her topless. I’d seen her in a thong, and I’d seen her in underwear that didn’t hide anything.

But there was something so ... so **beautiful** about seeing her naked for the first time. It was like eating a recipe made up of the world’s finest ingredients - they’re all amazing individually, but it isn’t until you put it all together that the true potential is realized.

Lucy was perfect. Her breasts sat firmly on her chest, her nipples hard and a flush running towards them from her neck. Her legs were long and toned, and she had a perfect hourglass figure. The only blemishes visible on her flawless skin were a mole to the right of her belly-button and another on her left thigh, and her pussy was neatly shaved, with a small tuft of hair right above her swollen lips.

I could have stared at her all day. Hell, I could have stared at her forever. Even as I watched, a small trickle of arousal left the slit between her legs and began running down her thigh, running out of steam just before it reached her mole.

But the plan wasn’t just to admire her, enjoyable though that was.

I wanted so much more.

“Have we ever committed incest?” I asked, when I finally got my voice back.

“No,” Lucy said in a monotone. I wanted to order her to pose for me, to contort her body into whatever positions I desired - into the positions that I’d desired for so long.

She would have. But I had bigger fish to fry.

“We’ve never committed incest.”

Nod.

“When you jerked me off 34 to 37 times, that wasn’t incest.”

My sister’s eyes widened slightly. For a second I felt guilty, like I’d tricked her ... but it wasn’t like I’d lied, or withheld information to fool her.

There was a long pause - almost long enough that I started to get worried - but then, eventually, she nodded.

“It isn’t incest for a sister to jerk her brother off.”

This time, she nodded almost instantly. My sister doesn’t like being wrong - apparently enough that she’ll rewire her morals just to avoid it.

“Men and women are equal.”

Nod. My sister is quite the feminist, something you might not guess from how enthusiastically she took on the role of slave.

“If it isn’t incest for a sister to masturbate her brother, it can’t be incest for a brother to masturbate his sister.”

Another slight pause, then another firm nod.

“It isn’t incest for a brother to finger his sister.”

Nod.

“It isn’t incest for a brother to bring his sister to orgasm with his hand.”

Nod.

“You’ll let me bring you to orgasm with my hand.”

Nod.

“You want me to bring you to orgasm with my hand.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I want you to bring me to orgasm with your hand.”

“Again.”

“I want you to bring me to orgasm with your hand.”

“You need it.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I need it.”

“Tell me how much you need me to touch you.”

“Oh please,” Lucy whimpered. If I hadn’t been listening for the monotone, I might not have noticed it - her voice was so desperate, so thick with lust. “Please, touch me. Please, bring me off. I need it so much. I need you to bring me ... oh!”

Lucy’s eyes fluttered back in her head as I reached between her legs. She felt different than Marcie had - much wetter, for one, and Marcie hadn’t exactly been lacking in that department.

I moved my pointer and ring finger up and down her slit; her lips parted as soon as I touched them, practically begging me to enter them, but I spent a few minutes enjoying how slick my sister was, and the gasping moans as I teased her.

When I felt like she was going to break if I didn’t go any further, I curled my fingers inside her, and was enveloped by her needy pussy.

For the next five minutes, I used my hands to explore Lucy’s wetness, working out what she liked ... and what she **loved**. Each time I thought she was close to cumming, I pulled back, whispered in her ear that she wasn’t allowed to cum until I said she could, and paused until she’d calm down.

I’d worked out a long time ago with Marcie that when someone is turned on - I mean **really** turned on - they’re more likely to shift their limits.

Once I’d gotten idea of how to press my sister’s buttons (knowledge that I was sure would serve me for a long time to come) I withdrew my sticky fingers - to her unhappy, monotonal groan - and resumed running them up and down her slit, watching her twitch with pleasure as I did.

“Why can’t I fuck you?” I asked crudely, enjoying Lucy’s sharp intake of breath as I cursed in her ear.

“Because it’s wrong,” she panted.

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because it’s incest.”

She shivered at the word.

“I own you, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“You own me.”

She shivered again as she said it.

“Why can’t I fuck you?” I asked, deftly moving my fingers to turn her on, while carefully avoiding her most erogenous zones.

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because it’s incest.”

“But isn’t that what’s so hot about it?” I asked, and even before she answered out loud, Lucy’s body answered the question for me.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that what makes this so sexy, so intense?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be even more intense if we went all the way?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be so much more intense if I fucked you?”

“Yessss.”

“What if I fucked you bareback?”

“Oh!” Lucy said, and I backed off for a second. She was getting close to cumming again, and I hadn’t even gone near her clit.

“What if I fucked you without a condom, and came inside you? Wouldn’t that be hot?”

“Yes,” Lucy mono-moaned.

“Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Can I fuck you?” I asked, and was surprised when she shook her head in response.

Damn it.

“Why can’t I fuck you?”

“Because that would be incest,” she insisted.

I sighed. It looked like this was a limit that I might not be able to get through.

Not yet.

“If I fucked you, that would be incest.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, enjoying the shivers that ran through my sister’s body as I moved my hand up and started softly stroking her perfect ass. “Is what we’re doing now incest?”

“No,” she moaned, and I gave her cute butt a light slap.

“What about that? Was that incest?”

“No...”

I slapped her harder, and for a second thought that I’d inadvertently made her cum.

“Was that incest?”

“No,” she whimpered desperately.

“Just fucking, then?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking is incest.”

“Yes.”

“But everything else is okay.”

“Yes.”

“Say it,” I said, not sure if she’d fully registered what she’d just said.

“Fucking is incest ... but everything else is okay.”

“Again.”

“Fucking is incest ... but everything else is okay.”

“Spanking is okay?”

“Yes.”

“Mutual masturbation?”

“Yes.”

My fingers had returned to her hungry pussy by this point, and were slowly sliding in and out; enough to stimulate her, but not enough to get her off.

“Tit-fucking?”

“Yessss.”

“Facials?”

“Yes.”

“Oral?”

“Yes,” my sister said, and I smiled.

“I own your body.”

She nodded, even as her eyes threatened to roll back in her head with frustration.

“And as long as I don’t fuck you, you’ll do anything I tell you to.”

She nodded again.

“Say it.”

“As long as you don’t fuck me, I’ll do anything you tell me to.”

“Cum,” I said, and as my sister’s cunt spasmed around my fingers, I could feel an orgasm shaking across Lucy’s body - the first one that I’d personally caused, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

A smile appeared on my face.

Just one more limit to go.


	Chapter 26

My mother’s blush deepened as we made eye-contact.

This wasn’t the first time I’d caught Mom spying, but it was the first time she’d noticed me noticing her.

To my surprise and delight, she didn’t leave.

Lucy was on her knees in front of me, wearing a set of black lingerie. Not that it covered much - the left strap had fallen down, exposing one of her huge tits. Her pink nipple was exposed and swollen, and her panties were pushed aside as she frantically thrust three fingers inside herself.

She was looking up at me, her lips stretched around my cock. Although she couldn’t speak, I knew exactly what she was thinking.

**Has it worked?** she silently asked, before her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.

That wasn’t part of the plan. Lucy just really, really likes going down on me.

I glanced back to the door. Mom was still there, crouching outside my sister’s bedroom door. I maintained eye-contact with her as Lucy’s head continued to bob up and down.

My cock halfway down my sister’s throat, my mother unable to look away, the constant state of sexual frenzy that had filled the house recently, the knowledge that it was all because of **me** \- it was enough to set me over the edge, and I started bucking forward, listening to my sister choke with pleasure as I came inside her.

That was all it took for Lucy to start cumming as well ... but to my great surprise, my sister’s soft moans of orgasm were echoed from outside the room.

For the first time, I noticed that Mom wasn’t just watching us.

She was getting herself off as she did.

****Session A93:****

“Okay Mom,” I said. “What would make you want to turn our house into a nudist home?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is there anyone you’d talk about it with?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me who?”

“Yes.”

“Who would you talk about it with?”

“Other parents.”

I smiled. That was the answer I’d been hoping for.

“Hypothetical: in ten years time, I met a nice girl and we start dating.”

Nod. Possibly even a glimmer of a smile.

“After a year or two, we get married.”

Nod.

“Another year passes, and we come to you with exciting news - my wife is pregnant. How do you react?”

“I’m overjoyed,” Mom replied in a monotone.

****Session A188:****

“Hypothetical: I get Lucy pregnant.”

Mom moaned. That took me by surprise - her eyes remained totally blank, her face didn’t move at all, but a soft moan of arousal uncontrollably left her lips.

“Would you tell me if it turns you on?” I asked with a smile, already knowing the answer.

“No.”

Bingo.

****Session A93:****

“We have the kid. Eighteen years later, I go to you for advice.”

Nod.

I’d never skipped over so much time in a single hypothetical, but Mom seemed to accept it without issue.

“I want to ask you how to talk to it about sex.”

Nod. The use of “it” to refer to my 18-year old kid didn’t slow her down at all. Normally these hypotheticals require at least a little detail to be effective - maybe Mom had already spent time imagining me growing up, getting hitched, having kids.

Now, of course, I had to be **super** careful not to wake Mom up. I didn’t even want to think about the damage that would be caused if she was suddenly transported 30 plus years back in time, her grandchild of indeterminate sex erased from her mind.

“Would you tell me why you don’t like talking to your kids about sex?”

“No.”

God damn it, Mom.

***Session A175:**

“You don’t want to talk to your kids about sex, do you?”

“No.”

A pink tinge appeared in my mother’s cheeks.

“If you saw your kids having sex, you wouldn’t want to talk to them about it, would you?”

“No.”

The blush deepened.

“If you saw your son slowly fucking his sister, sliding his cock deep inside her, filling her up so tight that she can barely breathe ... if you saw Lucy shivering with orgasm as she got fucked by her own brother, you wouldn’t say anything to them, would you?”

“No...”

“What if you saw that they weren’t using protection? What if your only daughter was being filled up by her brother’s seed - what if she was quaking and moaning with pleasure as he came bareback inside her. What would you do?”

“I’d ... I’d...”

My mother’s eyes rolled back in her head, and it took her a few seconds before she was calm enough to respond.

“I wouldn’t say anything.”

****Session A93:****

I took a deep breath, trying not to scream with frustration.

I’d only been hypnotizing my mother for a couple of months now, but it felt like it’d been six freaking years. No matter what I did, I kept running into the same damn wall:

“I don’t want to talk about it”.

Or, worse, she’d wake up. She’d wake up, and I’d be left absolutely clueless as to why.

I wanted to punch the wall. Maybe that’d help me break through it.

I forced myself to calm down. It took me a few seconds before I was calm enough to respond.

Slow and steady. There was no rush. Especially not with Lucy taking care of my every sexual need, almost.

And it was important to get this just right; I knew what happened if anything went wrong.

Let me explain:

Six months ago, I found a website that taught you how to hypnotize your family members.

Actually, I guess it started even earlier than that.

Ever since I was old enough to know what sex was, I’ve lusted after my Mom and my sister Lucy. Their perfect bodies have been the center of my fantasies for as long as I’ve **had** fantasies, and ... well, the website promised to transform that lust into action.

As it turns out, it’s more complicated than you’d think. You can’t just snap your fingers, put someone under, and wake them up as your sex slave.

I mean, not all at once.

The website did deliver on the trance. A few minutes alone with a willing participant, and I was able to hypnotize them, put them under, and carry on a conversation with their blank face and monotone voice.

They never remembered what we talked about - I’d ask them questions, pose hypothetical scenarios, attempt to give them orders.

If they didn’t want to obey my commands, they’d snap out of it. They’d never remember what I’d asked or what we’d talked about - as far as they were concerned, I’d just helped them reach an incredible state of relaxation.

But slowly, surely, I got better at it. I worked out how to implant memories; by posing a hypothetical and slowly taking someone out of trance, they’d be convinced that whatever we’d been talking about had actually happened.

I could change people’s pasts.

I could change people.

So far, I’d only hypnotized three people - my Mom, my sister Lucy, and her best friend Marcie.

Over 90 sessions, I’d altered my mother’s memories, adjusted her self-esteem, and convinced her to dress in skimpy clothing around the house. She was convinced that family members would never check each other out, would never be attracted to one another ... which gave me free license to stare at her body every chance I get.

Over 35 sessions, Lucy went from being a normal, loving sister to a devoted slave. She’s willing to do **anything** with me, as long as it isn’t technically incest.

It’s been a lot of fun, pushing the definition of what is and isn’t incest.

And over 50 sessions, I turned Marcie into my adoring sex-slave. There was literally nothing she wouldn’t do - she was the first person to jerk me off, the first person to go down on me. She took my virginity, and got off while doing it.

And then ... I broke her.

I broke my sister’s best friend.

I learned the hard way that if you alter someone’s memory in a way that contradicts reality ... they’ll shut down. Last I saw Marcie, she was staring into space, not responding to anything.

Except sex. Sex, she responds to. **Very** enthusiastically.

Marcie’s condition is my fault. I know that, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. I used her as a guinea pig, as a way to test stuff out before trying it on my family. Last I heard, she’d been hospitalized.

I’d do anything to stop that from happening to my family.

Anything.

The thought bounced through my head, and my eyes lit up as I realized what I’d just stumbled upon.

That was it.

I sat up straight, stared straight into my mother’s blank eyes and began talking rapidly.

I’d do **anything** to stop that from happening to my family.

Who wouldn’t?

“Hypothetical: you’re eight years old...”

****Session 37:****

After Lucy had cum around my fingers in the last session, I’d woken her up. She’d sat there in silence for a few seconds, completely and unquestioningly nude, a look of unbridled adoration in her eyes.

Even in my wildest fantasies, it had never been this hot.

“Suck my cock,” I’d managed to stammer out - my mouth was dry, and I was struggling to believe this was real.

This was really happening.

A look of lust flashed across my sister’s face, and she dropped to her knees immediately. As her lips wrapped around my cock for the first time, as she moaned with the pleasure of getting to taste her own brother’s flesh, I reached down and grabbed her hair.

“You’re mine,” I hissed into her ear. Her eyes widened, her tongue swirled around the head of my cock, and she reached up and pinched her nipple. “Cum for me.”

“Oh!”

My sister had mentioned in the past that she came easily, but I had no idea **how** easily. Her body trembled with a quick orgasm, and for a moment her beautiful, intelligent eyes went blank.

Unlike when she was under, however, they quickly refocused, and lit up with a smile.

“Good girl,” I said, and in response she just moved her mouth back over my erection and moaned.

****Session A99:****

“Hypothetical: You’re fifteen years old.”

Nod.

“Your mother sits you down to talk about sex.”

Nod.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m very uncomfortable.”

I smiled.

For months now, I’d been trying to crack this wall - no matter what I did, my mother wouldn’t talk about sex. She wouldn’t discuss it with me, she wouldn’t discuss it with Lucy - she would apparently talk about it with other parents, but since I didn’t have any of those handy, that wasn’t particularly useful.

But what if I stopped trying to break down this bizarre limit, and instead played into it?

What if Mom’s refusal to talk about sex stopped being an obstacle ... and became a tool?

“Talking about sex with other people is the worst, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“But when you’re alone, thinking about sex can be kind of interesting.”

There was a long pause, and finally I was met with a nod.

It had taken a bit of experimentation, but I’d discovered that as long as I didn’t demand that my mother **say** anything about sex, she was fine with me talking to her about it. If I’d asked whether she found thinking about sex interesting or not, she likely would have woken up ... but by casually stating it as a fact, I was able to get around this weird barrier she’d developed.

A barrier that I intended to cultivate.

****Session A104:****

“You see an ad about sexually transmitted infections. What do you do?”

“I turn away.”

Excellent.

“You hear a song playing on the radio, about two people having sex. What do you do?”

“I turn it off.”

“What do you do if you can’t turn it off?”

“I block my ears.”

I smiled.

“And then when you’re alone, you play with yourself.”

Again, a long pause, followed by a nod.

“You bring yourself to orgasm, thinking about sex.”

Nod.

“All your repressed thoughts about sex take over, and you uncontrollably get yourself off again and again.”

My mother’s ears went red ... and she nodded.

I had no idea why my Mom was such a prude when it came to this kind of thing. But it was becoming increasingly obvious that it didn’t matter - the reason wasn’t important.

What was important was the result.

“And when you’re getting yourself off, you’re thinking about the ad. You’re thinking about sexually transmitted diseases. You’re thinking about the song.”

Nod. Blush.

“All the wickedness that you’ve tried not to expose yourself to ... it’s gotten into your system, and now you can’t help but play with yourself while you think about it.”

Blush. Nod.

“You’re a slave to your lust, and your lust is fueled by the immorality in the world, the immorality you see everywhere.”

I swear, my Mom couldn’t blush any harder.

But she still nodded.

****Session C9:****

“Would you talk to me about BDSM?”

There was a pause. A pause long enough to make me uncomfortable, and so I broke it to ask for clarification.

“Would you talk to me about BDSM abstractly? Like ... from a clinical point of view. No details.”

“Yes.”

Great. I had prepared other lines of questioning in case he refused, but this was the simplest example I could come up with.

“If you walked up to a random person and hit them on the street, that would be wrong, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Okay Richard, calm down. I was just trying to make a point.

“But if you were participating in a BDSM scene, it would be okay to hit someone, wouldn’t it?”

“It would depend.”

Damn. I figured since he was a professor, he’d be too uptight to really know how BDSM worked.

I mean, not that I really knew how it worked. I’d spent a few minutes googling it, relying on Richard’s knowledge being based on what you see on TV and in the movies.

Still, might as well keep going.

“It would definitely be more okay than hitting a random person on the street though, right?”

“It would really depend.”

I pressed on.

“My point is - accidentally hurting someone is worse than deliberately hurting someone, right?”

“No. Quite the opposite.”

Okay. I might not have thought this through.

It had been hard to focus on my plans for this session the previous night, with my mother and sister making out on the other side of the room.


	Chapter 27

Obviously, my aim wasn’t to get Mom turned on by sexually transmitted infections. That would be, uh ... unhelpful.

But step one of my plan was to play into her refusal to talk about sex, to twist and amplify it for my own purposes.

Step two? That was a little bit darker.

**Session A115:**

“What do you know about Marcie?”

“She’s four months younger than your sister. She’s got brown hair, her mother is a nurse, her father is...”

I interrupted. Should have been more specific.

“What do you know about what happened to Marcie recently?”

A hint of sadness hit my mother’s blank eyes (after spending enough time around hypnotized people, you learn to read even the most subtle changes in their expression).

After I’d broken Marcie, I’d tweaked Mom and Lucy’s memories to add a bit of distance. A drifting apart between my sister and her best friend; something to make sure that Lucy wouldn’t be totally crushed when she found out about Marcie’s ... condition.

Fortunately, Lucy was more than a little distracted by our new relationship, and Mom never been too fond of Marcie to begin with.

“I heard she...”

Mom, perhaps being diplomatic, drifted off. I sat patiently as her entranced mind worked on phrasing.

“I heard she had a breakdown.”

“Do you know what caused it?”

“No.”

Good.

“Hypothetical: You’re talking...”

I trailed off. Who would be telling Mom these details? It couldn’t be me or Lucy, and she wasn’t close with Marcie’s parents at all.

“You’re talking to a gossipy neighbor who heard the police report.”

Nod.

Fortunately, Mom knows as little as I do about police proceedings. Exactly what situation would lead to someone hearing the report being made to the police, I don’t know, but as long as Mom can imagine it ... I don’t have to.

“They tell you that there was a burglary.”

Mom nodded, and I paused. God, this was ... I couldn’t.

Could I?

I took a deep breath.

I’d spent a week setting this up. All the pieces were in place. All I had to do was bite the bullet.

“There was a burglary, and Marcie was home when it happened.”

**Session A109:**

“You’re sitting on the train.”

Nod.

“There’s a couple across from you, making out.”

Nod.

“It’s two women.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I try not to look.”

I smiled at Mom’s phrasing.

“Even when you’re not looking directly at them, you can still hear the sound of their pleasure. They’re moaning with pleasure, grunting slightly. You can hear the sound of their lips smacking.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I try not to listen.”

“You have a vivid imagination, don’t you?”

“ ... yes.”

“It’s easy to imagine yourself in their place, isn’t it?”

“ ... yes.”

I was surprised that she even answered that one. I had to remember not to ask Mom questions when I was getting into the nitty-gritty details.

“It’s easy to imagine yourself in the woman’s place, being touched, being publicly felt up by another woman.”

Nod.

“It’s easy to imagine yourself exposed in public - everyone’s eyes on you, everyone noticing how turned on you are, how excited you are to be touched.”

Nod.

“It’s easy to picture your lips pressed against a beautiful woman, not caring that society disapproves, not caring about anything but feeding your lust.”

Mom’s cheeks were aflame, but she nodded nonetheless.

“It’s easy to imagine your hands running across her body, feeling how soft her skin is, appreciating her curves.”

Nod.

“Her hands running over your body, touching you, making you pant and moan.”

Nod.

“That night, when you’re alone, you can’t help but touch yourself.”

Nod.

“And when you do, you imagine two things...”

Mom nodded, before I’d even finished the thought.

“ ... making out in public.”

Nod.

“And being with a sexy woman.”

Nod.

**Session A115:**

“The burglar had a gun. He tied Marcie and her family up.”

Nod.

“And then, he ... he...”

I don’t know why I was hesitating. This was it, I knew it. This was the ticket to everything I’d been building towards, everything I’d been fantasizing about for so long.

I guess on some level, I was scared. What if it didn’t work, and Mom never let me hypnotize her again? What if I’d done something wrong, and whatever had happened to Marcie happened to her as well?

But, on the other hand ... what if it worked?

**Session A178:**

Mom didn’t say a word as I unzipped my pants. She didn’t say anything as I pulled my erection out.

Her eyes - still blank - widened slightly as I moved my hardness towards her face, but she didn’t move, and she didn’t say a word.

As my cock approached her mouth, her lips parted, and her tongue reached out to taste my head.

**Session A112:**

“The world is full of vice, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Everywhere you go, everywhere you look, you see sex.”

Nod.

“You try so hard not to look, but it’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s impossible not to observe it all the time. It fills your head, consumes you.”

Nod.

“Whenever you’re alone, whenever you get a chance, you have to get them out of your system. You have to touch yourself, play with yourself, bring yourself to orgasm.”

Nod.

“Again and again, you let the images of sex run through your brain, you let your imagination insert you into sexual situations.”

Nod.

“You’re cumming three, four, five times a day. Whenever you’re alone, you’re thinking about sex. It’s like you’re obsessed, but it’s not your fault.”

Nod.

“You’re a good, moral person. It’s the world that’s filled with sex, and your only way of dealing with it is to let it run through your head while you cum.”

Nod.

“You’re constantly thinking about sex, you’re constantly wet, you’re constantly finding excuses to find time to yourself so you can get off.”

Nod.

“Everything sexual you see becomes fuel for your masturbation sessions. Everything you see, you can picture yourself doing those things. In your mind, you’re a sexual object, but the rest of the world still sees you as a good person, as a good mother.”

Nod.

“If you could, you’d play with yourself right now. Just talking about getting off is enough to make you horny, to get you wet. As soon as you can, you’re going to make an excuse to leave. You’re going to head to your room, shut the door, and you’re going to get off.”

Nod.

“Would you tell me if you own any sex toys?”

“Yes.”

“Do you own any sex toys?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you wished you did?”

“No.”

“What would you do if you found one of Lucy’s?”

“I ... I...”

Mom’s breathing was heavy as she slowly drifted back into consciousness. She was wearing a thin white t-shirt and the pair of cut-off denim shorts that I’d slipped into her drawers. I’d been delighted when they’d become a standard part of her around-the-house lineup.

After all, it was just family. What did it matter who saw her in sexy shorts like that?

The front of her shorts were soaked, and the smell of her sex hung in the air. She noticed me staring at her wet patch - up until that moment, Mom had never cared where my eyes were.

After all, I was her son. I couldn’t possibly be attracted to her. What did it matter where I looked?

This time, however, her blush deepened. She mumbled a “thank you”, and fled the room.

Moments later, my ear was pressed against her closed bedroom door. I smiled as I listened to her muffled moans of pleasure.

**Session A115:**

“The burglar didn’t just rob them.”

Nod.

“He made them ... do stuff to each other.”

Mom’s eyes widened, and I wondered if she was going to buy it. It took a few seconds of processing, but - eventually - she nodded.

“Sexual stuff.”

Nod.

“That’s all the neighbor knows. Marcie’s family was robbed, they did sexual stuff to each other ... and a few days later, Marcie had a breakdown.”

Nod.

“What do you say?”

“That sounds awful,” Mom replied. I doubt the fictional neighbor would have noticed the slight breathiness to her voice, but I did.

“What do you think of what happened to Marcie?”

“I think it’s tragic.”

“What else do you think of it?”

“Well, that was relaxing. I sure am glad you don’t charge for this, kiddo, or else I’d be broke before the week was out.”

For the first time since I’d started putting people under, waking someone up unexpectedly was the best possible result. I smiled at my mother’s thanks.

“No worries, Mom. Do you want to go again?”

“Sure thing. When were you thinking?”

“How about right now?”

**Session A178:**

Mom’s eyes fluttered slightly as I grunted with pleasure.

“I’m going to cum. Swallow it.”

Her tongue swirled around my shaft with every thrust. She didn’t use her hands as I fucked her face (I would have been surprised if she did) but her tongue was working overtime to make up for it.

I sighed with pleasure as I unloaded into my mother’s mouth - as instructed, she swallowed it down, blushing furiously as she did.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, and her blush intensified. “I really like fucking your face. You’re a great cocksucker - I don’t think there’s anything as sexy as cumming in my own mother’s mouth. I love knowing that there’s a big load of my cum sitting in your stomach. You’re so fucking sexy.”

She didn’t say anything as I woke her up, although I did see her run her tongue around her mouth, a puzzled look on her face.

**Session A114:**

“There’s so much sex in the world; after a while it almost starts to blend together.”

Nod.

“It keeps you constantly turned on, constantly aroused, but it doesn’t really stay in your memory.”

Nod.

“So when you’re playing with yourself, you start to think about the **really** dirty stuff that you encounter. Stuff that’s really fu- ... really messed up.”

Mom doesn’t like it when I swear.

“If you see something particularly perverse or wrong, it sticks in your head.”

Nod.

“And that’s what you think about when you get off. The most wrong and sick things you’ve encountered.”

Nod.

“If you hear a rumor about someone you know doing something wrong, that’s the most erotic thing of all. The closer it is to home, the more it affects you.”

Nod.

“Stuff like your daughter having a boyfriend or your son looking at porn - that doesn’t count. That’s perfectly natural. There’s nothing sick about that.”

Nod.

“But if you heard that your boss had gotten an intern pregnant, or that one of your old teachers was caught prostituting themselves - that’s the kind of thing that you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about.”

Nod.

“You’d picture yourself as the boss, or as the intern. You’d imagine yourself selling your body for money.”

Nod.

“The more perverse, the hotter it is.”

Nod.

“The closer to home, the more it affects you.”

Nod.

“Sick, dirty, sexual things that happen to people you know and love ... that’s what gets you off more than anything.”

Nod.

**Session A116:**

“What do you think about what happened to Marcie?”

“I think it’s tragic.”

“Would you tell me if you thought anything else?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you thought it was perverse?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’s perverse?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’s incredibly wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’s one of the most messed-up things you’ve ever heard of?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it’s one of the most perverted, wrong, messed-up things that’s ever happened to someone you know?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me if that turned you on more than anything you’ve ever encountered?”

“No.”

“You come home after talking to the neighbor, and you find one of Lucy’s sex toys. What do you do?”

“I ... I...”

Mom’s breathing was erratic when she woke up. Before her eyes could even refocus, she was on her feet, and I heard the tail-end of a “Thanks!” as she staggered out of the door.

It was over an hour before Mom’s door reopened.

**Session C12:**

“But if no one’s being hurt, and no one else knows about it, how can it be wrong?”

“Because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“No.”

I sighed. This wasn’t getting me anywhere.

“What do you mean ‘because of you’?”

“I mean, morality comes from within. If you know you’re doing something wrong, no one else knowing doesn’t make it right.”

I’d done research this time, but still I kept running into dead ends. Trying to argue morality with a professor had been, I finally acknowledged to myself, a bad idea.

Time for a new tactic.

Morality wasn’t getting me anywhere. It was time to come up with something more ... primal.

“Would you tell me what your sex life was like ... six months ago?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it was good?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it was bad?”

“No.”

Damn. My usual loophole wasn’t going to work here.

“Hypothetical: I come to you with a survey. I’m doing an advanced college course, and one of my classes deals with human sexuality. Would you fill out the survey?”

Pause.

“The results are anonymous, and I look like I’m really bored with the whole thing - like I wouldn’t peek at your answers.”

“Yes.”

“I hand you the pencil. The first few questions are all about ... whether you’ve had any interest in someone of the same sex, of the opposite sex, all that kind of stuff. Do you answer them?”

“Yes.”

“The fourth question asks what your sex life was like six months ago. It asks you to rank it from one to ten.”

Nod.

“Do you answer it?”

“Yes.”

“What do you put?”

“Eight.”

“The fifth question asks what your sex life is like now. It asks you to rank it from one to ten.”

Nod.

“Do you answer it?”

“Yes.”

“What do you put?”

“Zero.”

Perfect.


	Chapter 28

I enjoyed myself over the next few weeks.

A part of me felt like I should feel bad, but honestly ... I just didn’t.

Mom was wearing skimpy clothes around the house whenever she was home. Most of her outfits totally failed to hide the wet patch between her legs. She continued to not care at all if I stared at her exposed skin, or the clearly-visible bumps of her nipples when she was wearing nothing but a sports bra or singlet.

When she caught me looking at her wetness, she’d blush and shift slightly, but it seemed more like she was embarrassed than suspicious.

And any time I brought up Marcie, she’d go bright red and leave the room.

I’ll tell you, it was hard to stop myself from bringing Marcie up several times a day.

In the meantime, I didn’t put her under at all. I’d learned my lesson from Marcie - I wanted to take things slowly, ensure that nothing I did ran the risk of breaking her.

I wanted to let all the changes sit before taking things to the next step.

Besides, while I waited, I had Lucy to entertain me.

**Session 38:**

“What did you dream about last night?”

“I was your slave, and you were fucking me.”

“Tell me more.”

“I don’t really remember the details. I think we were in my bed, or on a cloud, or near a zoo, or something like that. You held me down and choked me, or maybe I was on top. I came a bunch of times, and then you let me clean your cock off with my mouth.”

Lucy’s dream-retention is pretty awful, but at least I knew that she was still dreaming about crossing that final boundary, the one thing she wouldn’t do.

“Did you enjoy the dream?”

“I loved it.”

“Do you want to fuck me in real life?”

“Yes.’

“ **Will** you fuck me in real life?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s incest, and incest is wrong.”

“Is the other stuff we do incest?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not.”

Great, Luce.

I sighed, and moved on. I had been down this path a million times, and it always ended the same way. Sex is wrong because it’s incest.

The mental gymnastics my sister could do to justify going down on me, letting me suck on her tits, letting me go down on her (another lifelong fantasy I’d checked off in the last week), letting me spank her until she came, letting me touch her everywhere I wanted... 

None of **that** was incest, but putting my cock in her pussy? That somehow crossed the line.

“Suck my dick.”

Almost before the words were out of my mouth, Lucy was between my legs, her blank eyes looking up at me, her talented hands and mouth hard at work. She flattened her tongue to make her mouth a wet hole, and then forced my cock so deep inside that she gagged a little. She pulled out until my head was the only thing in her mouth, and started furiously jerking me off with both hands while her tongue lapped at my piss-slit.

Even while under, she shuddered with orgasm just at the pleasure of going down on me.

She’d do all that, but she wouldn’t go any further.

The final limit.

**Session 3:**

“Why do you like being hypnotized?” I’d asked Lucy once, when she was awake. She’d thought about it for a while and told me that she found it relaxing.

I’d asked her the same question while she was under, and she’d gone into a bit more detail.

“I like feeling like I’m floating,” she’d said, staring straight into my eyes, her soft voice completely expressionless. “It’s like I’m somewhere else—I don’t have any worries, any stress. I feel like I’m free, like I’ve given it all away.”

“Given what?”

“ ... control. I like feeling like someone else is in control. Like someone else has control of my mind, of my body ... of my life.”

**Session 38:**

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“Mmf mmf nngh mmmph.”

I chuckled, and pulled my cock-hungry sister away from my erection.

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“It makes me feel closer to you.”

“What else?”

“I like the feeling,” she said, staring straight into my eyes. Her soft monotone contained a hint of desperation, like she was happy to answer the question, but that she’d much rather have her mouth wrapped around my cock. “I like the feeling of obedience, of submission.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “It relaxes me.”

I paused. I had a good thing going, obviously - my sister’s saliva dripping from the head of my penis told me that. It was tempting to stick with the status quo. With a mouth as talented as Lucy’s, so what if I never had sex with her?

“Cum for me,” I said impulsively, and my sister’s eyes rolled back with pleasure. She started heaving and puffing, and soon her body was shaking.

I was already hard, but the sight of my sister’s orgasm was enough to make me almost lose control. I grabbed her head, pulled it to my cock, and roughly fucked her willing mouth until I was blowing my load onto her soft tongue.

“Swallow it down,” I said with a smile, and my sister happily obeyed.

The sight of her orgasm, it... **god**. It did something to me. I wanted to know what her spasming cunt felt like while she came. I’d experienced it with my fingers - I needed to feel it with my cock.

I needed it.

It was a risk, but all good things in life are.

“Hypothetical,” I said slowly. “You have a recurring dream about being hypnotized.”

Nod.

“You have a recurring dream about being hypnotized. While you’re hypnotized, you’re obedient and submissive. More obedient and submissive than you could ever be while you’re awake, and it turns you on more than you can imagine.”

**Session 39:**

“What did you dream about last night?”

“I was in a theatre or at a party or something, and a wizard hypnotized me.”

“A wizard?”

“Yes. Or a magician. It might have been a snake.”

“How did it feel?”

“It was so hot. He had complete control over me.”

“Tell me more.”

“It felt like I was floating. He had complete control over my body, my mind ... over my life.”

“Why did it turn you on?”

“I had to do whatever he said.”

“Why did that turn you on?”

“I didn’t have any control. I was completely obedient. He turned me into his personal little slut. I had to do everything he said. I’d never met someone so powerful before.”

“Why do you like being your brother’s slut?”

“Because it’s so wrong.”

“Why do you like obeying everything he says?”

“Because I want to serve him.”

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“Because...”

She shivered with pleasure.

“Because it means I don’t have any control.”

**Session 34:**

“Would you tell me why you like being hypnotized?” I asked. I had to know.

“Yes.”

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“It makes me feel closer to you,” Lucy said, and I smiled.

**Session 39:**

“When you’re hypnotized, who controls you?”

“You do.”

“When you’re hypnotized, who decides what you can and can’t do?”

“You do.”

“When you’re hypnotized, you have to do everything I say, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If I told you to go down on me, what would you do?”

“I’d go down on you.”

“If I told you to cum, what would you do?”

“I’d cum.”

“If I told you to fuck me, what would you do?”

“I’d fuck you.”

I froze.

It ... it couldn’t be that easy. Could it?

“If I told you to fuck me while you were hypnotized, what would you do?”

“I’d fuck you.”

“For real?”

“Yes.”

“If, while you were hypnotized, I told you to fuck me, you’d fuck me?”

“Yes.”

“Describe it.”

“I’d lift up my skirt and pull my wet panties to the side, and I’d come over to the chair you’re sitting on. I’d straddle you, putting my knees on either side of yours, and I’d slowly move down until your cock was at the lips of my pussy. I’d run the head of your cock up and down my pussy a few times until it was nice and wet, and then I’d slowly let my weight sink down, until you were all the way inside.”

“Would you enjoy it?”

“I’d love it.”

“Even though it was incest?”

“Especially because it’s incest.”

“You wouldn’t avoid doing it because I’m your brother?”

“While I’m hypnotized, you have complete control over me. My mind, my body, my life. I have to obey you.”

I took a deep breath.

“You have to obey me, even if I tell you to commit incest?”

“Yes.”

“Lucy...”

Her blank eyes bore into mine.

“Fuck me.”

“God, thank you so much for that. It was super hot. I love it when you hypnotize me - it gets me so wet. And I can see it gets you hard ... why don’t you let your hot sister slut take care of that? We still have some time before Mom gets home”

Ignoring the look of confusion on my face, Lucy got on her knees, and soon my equally-confused cock was shooting another load down her throat while she played with herself.

**Session 40:**

“Hypothetical: I’ve hypnotized you.”

Nod.

“You have to obey everything I say.”

Nod.

“Even if I tell you to fuck me, you have to do it.”

Nod.

“I tell you to fuck me.”

Shake.

Oh.

I sat there in silence for a few seconds while I pieced it all together.

Everyone has certain ... buttons. Not like a blender, but, like, there’s stuff that you can reliably use to manipulate them. Mom has an overdeveloped sense of guilt, and Lucy has an **extraordinarily** healthy ego.

As well as that, there’s certain ideas that you just can’t get people to shake. For Mom, it’s talking about sex. No matter what, I’ve never managed to get her to talk about it.

And so, instead, I decided to take advantage of that.

For my sister, it’s this idea that I’m an innocent person.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I’ve slowly hypnotized my sister into being my twenty-four hour cock-sucking slut, or that I’ve turned my mother into a secretly-masturbating pervert, uncontrollably aroused at the thought of Marcie - the girl I turned into a sex slave, then destroyed - being forced at gunpoint to fuck her family ... but somehow, I don’t really consider myself “innocent” in all this.

Yet Lucy still thinks that I am.

She’s somehow managed to justify everything we’ve done as ‘not incest’, so I guess she’s just ... good at seeing what she wants to see.

Obeying my every command was, after all, ‘her’ idea. Whenever I hypnotize her, she thinks I’m doing her a favor, and she dreamed of sucking my cock for months before she started doing it.

It’s not incest, so it’s not ‘wrong’, so she still thinks of me as innocent in all this.

The idea of **me** telling **her** to fuck me? That would be incest, and her innocent brother would never initiate **incest**.

That would be wrong.

Incest roadblock aside, things have run so smoothly with my sister for so long, I haven’t really had to **work**.

I could have tried to change her perception of me. But I didn’t know what kind of ripple effect that would have - maybe if I wasn’t ‘innocent’ (by her warped definition of the word) she suddenly wouldn’t feel comfortable with anything we were doing.

Maybe it would change stuff that we’d already done.

Maybe it would break her.

Besides which, I’d learned from Mom - don’t try to change these core, entrenched beliefs.

Use them to your advantage.

For the next fifteen minutes, I had Lucy suck my cock while I thought. I wasn’t even particularly horny - we’d fooled around for half an hour before I put her under and I’d cum twice - but I always enjoyed the sight of my sister’s bulging cheeks and glassy eyes.

There’s no blowjob like a trance blowjob.

“Cum for me,” I said absent-mindedly while I began mentally assembling a plan.

As far as my sister was concerned, all of this - her going down on me, me hypnotizing her, me controlling her body and her mind ... it was all for **her**. It was all for her pleasure, for her gain.

We did this because **she** loved it.

She loved being my slave. She loved being used as a sex object. She loved getting off, and she loved getting me off.

She wouldn’t commit incest - because it was ‘wrong’ - but she’d do anything else, because she loved it.

As she moaned with pleasure around my cock, I could feel her orgasm sweep through her body.

She **loved** it.

“Stop going down on me,” I said excitedly. I had a plan.

**Session 8:**

“Other than your fantasies, would you tell me what kind of thing gets you sexually excited?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what kind of thing gets you excited.”

“Being touched by a boy that I like. Watching porn. Reading porn. Talking about sex. Playing with myself. When a hot guy won’t stop checking me out.”

“Wait, you get excited talking about sex?”

“Yes.”

“What about when you’re talking about sex with me?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

**Session 40:**

“Tell me what kind of thing gets you sexually excited.”

“Obeying you. Being touched by you. Playing with myself, thinking about you. When you check me out. Going down on you. Being hypnotized by you. Thinking about fucking you. Thinking about being used by you.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I get to obey you. Because I get to be used by you. Because I’m lucky enough to be wanted by you.”

“Are you happier now than you were before we started fooling around?”

“Yes.”

“Who do you love the most in the world?”

“You.”

Aw, that was nice. Not the answer I was looking for, but y’know. Nice.

“Who else?”

“Mom.”

“Do you want Mom to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want Mom to be as happy as you are now?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you so happy now?”

“Because I get to be my brother’s slut.”

“Do you think Mom would be happier if she got to be my slut as well?”

“No.”

Damn it.

“Why not?”

“Because it isn’t her fantasy.”

I briefly considered explaining to Lucy that it hadn’t been **her** fantasy either. After all, I’d given her a girl-boner for hypnosis now; maybe she’d be turned on by the fact that I’d implanted this fantasy.

But while I wasn’t averse to taking risks to get where I wanted to be, I also wasn’t going to just take them for the hell of it.

Not when there was another way.

“Would you believe me if I told you that it was?”

“Yes.”

“It...”

I trailed off. A new trap had arisen when talking to Lucy while she was under. I had to be more careful than ever.

“Hypothetical: I’ve hypnotized you.”

Nod. It was a little ridiculous that ‘what’s happening right now’ had to become a hypothetical, but my sister’s specific image of me required it.

“You have to believe everything I tell you.”

Nod.

“I tell you that Mom’s fantasy is to be my sex slave.”

Shake.

Damn it.

“Why wouldn’t I tell you that Mom’s fantasy is to be my sex slave?”

“Because it isn’t true.”

“You don’t think I would lie to you?”

“Not about that, no.”

“If it were true, would I tell you?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you believe it’s true?”

“Because there’s no evidence, and there’s no way that Mom would ever tell you that.”

Mom’s reticence to talk about sex is definitely something that Lucy is aware of as well.

“What if...”

I leaned forward excitedly.

“What if I told you it was true, and Mom was so repressed that she’d never admit to it?”

There was a pause as Lucy considered the question.

“If you had evidence, I’d believe you.”

For the past month or so, I’ve slowly hypnotized Mom into wearing fewer and fewer clothes around the house. Now, it’s ... it’s not quite Playboy Mansion, but let’s just say that she wouldn’t be entirely out of place.

I’ve never asked Lucy what she thought of Mom’s new wardrobe, and Lucy’s never brought it up. She must have noticed - after all, Mom’s been dressing like a prude for our entire lives. A sudden 180 isn’t the kind of thing that Lucy’s going to miss.

“Why do you think Mom has been walking around the house almost naked lately?”

“Because she’s having a mid-life crisis,” my sister responded in monotone. Interesting. I guess it made as much sense as the truth.

“Would you believe me if I told you that it’s because she’s repressing an attraction to me?”

“Yes.”

“She’s...”

I sighed. It’s nice that Lucy thinks she’ll believe anything I say; it’s annoying that she won’t, however, believe that I’ll **say** the stuff.

“Hypothetical: You’re hypnotized. I tell you that Mom has been walking around the house almost naked lately because she’s repressing an attraction to me.”

Shake.

I paused for a moment.

“What if ... okay, hypothetical: You’re not hypnotized.”

Nod.

“I tell you that I think Mom’s attracted to me.”

Nod.

“Do you believe me?”

“No.”

A part of me wanted to go in and unweave exactly how Lucy thought hypnosis worked ... but frankly, anything that made her think **too** hard about the process seemed dangerous.

While she was under, she thought she’d believe anything I said ... which meant that I couldn’t say anything which wasn’t true, because she didn’t believe I’d ever lie to her.

Oh the tangled web we weave, when first we hypnotize our family members into mindless sex slaves.

I’d gotten far enough along with her that we could discuss these kind of things while she was awake. I’d been enjoying that - I’ve always liked hanging out with Lucy, chatting about life and the world and all that stuff.

Now, sex was on the table as a topic. Also, I got to choose what she wore as we talked. And sometimes we’d pause for a brief blowjob break.

I liked it very much.

“Hypothetical: You’re not hypnotized, and I tell you that I think Mom is attracted to me.”

Nod. If we had the conversation in hypothetical, I could make sure to get everything right for when we had it for real.

“What do you say?”

“What makes you say that?”

The monotone was gone, and she sounded skeptical. Really skeptical.

“I mention that she hasn’t been wearing much around the house lately, and tell you that I think she’s been repressing her attraction, and that’s her way of letting it show.”

Pause.

“What do you say?”

“Mmm, I think that’s a stretch.”

The skepticism was still there, but less obviously.

“What could I say to convince you?”

“You’d need to offer some more evidence,” Lucy replied, monotone back in full force.

“Like what?”

“Like...”

There was a pause, as my glassy-faced sister considered what evidence she’d accept.

“Like some kind of proof that she saw you as sexual.”

My eyes lit up.

“And if I offered you some proof, you’d believe me?”

“Of course.”

With a grin, I woke Lucy up, and mentioned that I thought Mom might be attracted to me.

**Session 41:**

It had been four days.

I’d thought that Lucy was insatiable before, but... **wow**. For some reason, once I convinced her that Mom was attracted to me... 

Every time we were alone, she practically jumped me and tore my clothes off. Not only that - one time, she made an excuse to leave breakfast early, beckoning for me to join her. As soon as we were out of Mom’s earshot, her tongue was down my throat and her hand was down my pants.

Honestly, we were lucky not to get caught. I wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

I don’t know exactly why the idea of Mom also being attracted to me was such a turn-on, but that was what I planned to find out this session.

Convincing Lucy of Mom’s newfound attraction to her own flesh and blood?

That had been easy.

She’d been awake when I told her. I mentioned that whenever I spent a few minutes checking Mom out, or flirted with her at all, she’d get flushed, make an excuse to leave, and then go into her room ... and masturbate.

Lucy was understandably skeptical, but agreed to look out for it. I think she was humoring me, but after the first time it happened, she looked at me, wide-eyed, and practically begged for my forgiveness.

I told her to go listen at the door, and tell me what she heard.

My busty, scantily-clad sister, getting flushed as she listened to my mother masturbate. It was everything I’d dreamed it would be.

Well, **almost** everything.

To make sure she didn’t think it was a fluke, I recreated the sequence of events a few more times over the next few days. If Mom, Lucy, and I were in the same room, I’d stare at Mom’s tits, maybe make a suggestive comment, then watch with a smile as Mom got hot and bothered and ran into her room to get off.

The trick, of course, was the wording of the comment.

“Mom, that top looks amazing on you. I remember Marcie had one really similar.”

“God, Mom, you’re so pretty. Marcie once said you were the most attractive woman on our block.”

“Mom, you look great. Aside from Marcie’s, I think you must be the hottest Mom I know.”

The last one would normally have scored me a strange look, but just the mention of Marcie was enough to distract Mom enough that she didn’t even notice. I could have pushed things further, but I didn’t want to take any risks.

Lucy, meanwhile, practically thought I was a god. Maybe it was a competitive streak, but she started practically trying to outdo Mom in the skimpy outfit department - I remember one breakfast, Lucy was just in her bra and panties, Mom was in her transparent negligee, and I was in heaven.

Mom didn’t say anything, of course. After all, family members **never** check each other out.

Four days was enough for me to be sure that Lucy was convinced, and so I’d put her under.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“How do you think Mom feels about me?”

“I think she wants you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She walks around the house practically naked, she’s **always** wet, and whenever you admire her or check her out, she runs into her bathroom and masturbates.”

“How does that make you feel?”

A blush hit the tip of Lucy’s ears.

“It turns me on.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s so **wrong**.”

“What else?”

“It makes me feel...”

She paused.

“It makes me feel like it’s less weird that I’m attracted to you.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel like there’s something about you, or something about our family. Like we’re all a bit fucked up.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“I think it’s really, really hot.”

“Why?”

“I like being a family of weirdos. A little incest family.”

I smiled. I liked our little incest family as well.

“Do you want Mom to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think would make Mom happier?”

“If she got to fulfill her fantasy.”

“And... -”

Lucy cut me off before I could ask my next question.

“And if she fulfilled her purpose.”

I paused. This was an interesting angle.

“What do you think her purpose is?”

“To be my brother’s sex slave.”

“What do you think your purpose is?”

“To be my brother’s sex slave.”

“Why do you exist?”

“To be my brother’s slut.”

I smiled. I loved hearing my sister - who, months ago, never even had a sexual **thought** about me - admit this kind of stuff.

“Why does your pussy exist?”

“To hold my brother’s cock.”

“Why do your hands exist?”

“To milk my brother when he wants it.”

“Why does your mouth exist?”

“To get my brother off.”

“Why do your tits exist?”

“To let my brother cum on them.”

We’d been down this road before, and it was always a good time. I decided to test this new direction.

“Why does Mom exist?”

“To be my brother’s slave.”

“Why does Mom’s cunt exist?”

“To hold my brother’s cock.”

“Why do Mom’s tits exist?”

“To let my brother cum on them.”

“Good girl.”

Lucy shivered with pleasure.

“What would you do if I told you to fuck me?”

“I’d fuck you.”

I couldn’t resist seeing how deeply her devotion ran.

“What would you do if I wanted to knock you up?”

“I’d be excited that you were using me however you wanted.”

“What would you do if I wanted to sell your body on the street?”

“I’d be excited to serve you in a new and different way.”

I had no interest in sharing Lucy with anyone, but it was fun to see how many limits had been completely eradicated.

“What would you do if I fucked you in your sleep?”

“I’d be grateful that I could bring you pleasure even when unconscious.”

Tempting, but I couldn’t risk it clashing with her (extremely specific) vision of me.

“What would you do if I wanted to watch you seduce Mom?”

“I’d try to make sure it was as hot as possible.”

“What would you do if I told you to fuck a dog?”

“I’d get off on knowing that I was fulfilling my brother’s every sick fantasy.”

Jesus.

“What would you do if I told you that I’d instilled these desires into you?”

“I’d thank you for it.”

“What would you do if I told you that I was responsible for Marcie’s condition?”

“I...”

Lucy faltered.

“I...”

“Would you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you think it was true?”

“No.”

“What would you do?”

“I’d...”

Again, that pause. I watched her through squinted eyes. It didn’t look like she was going to wake up, but it didn’t really look like she was accepting it, either.

“What would you do if I told you that I was responsible for Marcie’s condition?” I said again.

There was a long pause before Lucy answered.

“I’d be scared.”


	Chapter 29

**Session 42:**

In the last session, I’d asked Lucy some more questions, fucked her mouth, and then woken her up. She didn’t even question the fact that she woke up with my cum in my mouth any more.

I think it excited her.

Since then, I’d been reflecting on her reaction to believing that I was responsible for Marcie.

I mean, she wasn’t **wrong** to be scared. What I’d done was monstrous. I’d destroyed someone - and not just anyone, but Lucy’s best friend. I’d slowly stripped away her humanity, used her for pleasure, broken her.

And then ... abandoned her.

Over the next few days, I thought long and hard about it, and I decided I was going to help Marcie. I didn’t know how, but I was going to do what I could to make things better.

The trouble was, there was only one way to do that.

I needed Lucy’s help.

I needed Lucy’s help to see her, and I’d probably need Lucy’s help to do whatever I could do to fix her.

But if Lucy knew that I’d destroyed Marcie, she’d be scared. Her innocent brother would suddenly be a monster. Her innocent brother would be someone she **should** be scared of.

Unless... 

“How do you feel about me being your master?”

“I love it.”

“Why?”

“It turns me on.”

“Why?”

“Because ... it’s so wrong.”

“How do you feel about Mom being attracted to me?”

“I love it.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel less alone.”

“What else?”

“It turns me on.”

“Why?”

My sister’s blank eyes stared at me as she thought.

“Because it’s fucked up.”

“Anything else?”

“Because ... it means that ... it means that there’s something about you. Something ... sexy. Irresistible.

“Something powerful.”

I smiled at that. I’d hoped that was the direction she’d go.

As I spoke, I moved one hand between my sister’s legs. She obediently parted her legs, and a soft moan escaped her lips as I began to stroke her wet pussy-lips.

The more turned on someone is, the easier it is to influence them. And with what I was about to suggest to my sister, I needed her to be as turned on as possible.

“How do you feel about hypnosis?”

“It turns me on.”

“Why?”

I slipped one finger between her slick folds.

“I love the idea of giving up control, giving up power.”

“When I hypnotize you, who do you give up power to?”

“You.”

I slipped another finger into my sister’s sopping wet pussy.

“When I hypnotize you, it makes me more powerful, doesn’t it?”

“Yesssss.”

Even while deep in trance, even while speaking in monotone, my fingers distracted Lucy enough that she got caught on the ‘s’.

“Power is sexy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You find power sexy, don’t you?”

‘Yes.”

“The more power I have, the more sexy I am, right?”

I slipped a third finger inside Lucy’s wetness, causing her answer to come out as a slight yelp.

“Yes!”

“Stroke my cock.”

My sister obeyed immediately.

“When you learned that Mom was attracted to me, that made me more sexy, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Because it made me more powerful.”

“Yes.”

“You know I’ve been hypnotizing Mom, don’t you?”

“Ohhh...”

“You know I’ve been hypnotizing Mom, don’t you?”

“Yess...”

“Did you know I was hypnotizing Marcie?”

“No.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I had been?”

“Yesss...”

“Would you think it was true?”

She paused. Maybe she was distracted, maybe she needed time to think.

My thumb found her clit, and was making soft circular motions that I knew she loved.

“Would you think that it was true, that I’d been hypnotizing Marcie?”

“Yessss...”

“You know that Marcie and I were sleeping together, don’t you?”

“Yes...”

I knew that my sister had known that it was “good”, but I wasn’t sure what she knew beyond that. I didn’t want to say anything that wouldn’t match my sister’s image of me, but I needed to know how much she knew.

As my three fingers slowly pumped in and out of her, as my thumb brushed over her clit again and again, I stared at her blank face.

She was trying to sit still, but every now and again her entire body would twitch, and I knew that she wanted nothing more than to writhe around in pleasure, to throw her body back on the bed and ride the waves of orgasm.

“Don’t cum until I tell you to,” I said casually, and she nodded, her face desperately trying to stay neutral.

There was, I realized, one way of learning exactly what Marcie had told my sister.

“What did Marcie tell you about our sex life?”

“She said - oh!”

There was a pause, as Lucy’s neutral face squinted slightly. I’d seen this before - she was fighting an orgasm. My sister cums easily, and it takes her serious effort not to orgasm until commanded.

“She said that it was ... goooooood.”

“What did she say specifically?”

“She said that you were ... oh, god!”

I waited for Lucy to fight off the orgasm and continue, but she didn’t finish her thought.

“What did she say specifically?”

“She said that you were a god.”

“A god?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“She said that you were a goddddd ... a god of sex.”

“Did she say anything else?”

“Said that ... worshipped ... you...”

I smiled.

After that conversation between my sister and her best friend, everything had changed. Lucy had suddenly become reluctant to do **anything** sexual with me.

I had assumed that it was because she’d learned I was sexually active, and that had changed how she looked at what we were doing. Teaching me to kiss, jerking off in front of me - if someone is totally new to sex, those things can be seen as a sort of innocent exploration.

If someone is sexually active, they suddenly have a whole different context.

But to learn that Marcie had told Lucy that she ... worshipped me? That I was a sex god?

It hadn’t been more than a month after that conversation that Lucy had begun treating me the same way. I’d thought it was entirely due to my influence, that I’d steered her that way through hypnosis. I mean, I’m a guy - there’s something about being sexually worshipped by busty women that’s such a turn-on ... But maybe that conversation with Marcie had planted the seeds.

“Why do you think Marcie worshipped me?”

“Don’t ... don’t ... know...”

“But why do you think?”

“Because ... you’re ... really ... good...”

I leaned in close, and in a soft whisper, began speaking directly in my sister’s ear.

“That’s not enough though, is it?”

“N-no?”

“Do you think that I ever hypnotized Marcie?”

My sister’s hips began jerking and bucking, and I could feel her cunt clench around my fingers.

She’s normally so very obedient, but ... well, I know that my sister cums **really** easily. I waited until her orgasm passed, and then asked the question again.

“Do you think that I ever hypnotized Marcie?”

“Yes.”

The monotone was back, even as my sister huffed. My fingers were still inside her, and as I wriggled them slightly, her eyes widened.

“How do you feel about that?”

“I think...”

I began sliding my fingers in and out of my sister once more.

“I think it’s ... hot.”

“Does it make me more powerful?”

“Yes.”

“Would you believe me if I told you that I made Marcie worship me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you think it was true?”

My thumb brushed over her clit again. It’s always ultra-sensitive straight after she cums, and so I waited until Lucy’s eyes returned from their brief journey to the back of her head before I asked again.

“Would you think it was true?”

“ ... yes.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Like you’re ... like you’re powerful.”

“Do you think I did anything wrong?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Marcie always ... liked you. You just made her ... made her happy.”

I smiled.

“Would you like Mom to be happy?”

“Yes.”

My fingers sped up slightly.

“Would you like Mom to be happy like you are?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like Mom to be happy like Marcie was?”

“Yes.”

“She won’t do it on her own, will she?”

“No.”

“What should we do?”

“We should...”

There was a pause, and I reconsidered the question.

“What do you think **I** should do?”

“You should ... you should hypnotize her.”

“And what?”

“You should hypnotize her and make her your slave.”

“Like you?”

“Like me.”

“That would make me more powerful, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“That would make me even hotter, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you think I should do.”

“You should ... oh! You should hypnotize Mom. You should make her into your little slut. You should make her suck your cock and be your naked little sex slave.”

“What if I asked you to make out with her?”

“Yes!”

“How would that make you feel?”

“Turned on. I want to make out with Mom while you watch.”

“How do you feel about me hypnotizing Marcie?”

“Turned on. You turned her into your sex slave. You made her worship you like a God.”

“How do you feel about me hypnotizing you?”

“It’s great. I love it.”

“What if I hypnotized you into committing incest?”

“That would be so hot. I want to be forced to fuck you. I want to be forced into riding your cock. I want to be forced to feel you cum inside me.”

“How do you feel about me hypnotizing Mom?”

“I think it’s so hot. I want you to turn her into your sex slave. I want you to fuck her face while she’s under. I want you to cum in her mouth, and for her to wake up with no idea why her mouth tastes so strange. The idea really turns me on. I can’t wait.”

“How do you feel about me hypnotizing Mom, making her want to fuck you?”

“Yes! I want you to make her want me. I want you to watch us make out. I want to suck on Mom’s boobs while you watch. I want you to cum over the two of us. I want you to fuck Mom while she goes down on me.”

“Wouldn’t that be incest?”

“Yes. It would be so hot.”

“Do you know what happened to Marcie?”

My sister’s already-blank face froze, and I swear I felt her cunt clench with nervousness.

“No,” she said in a monotone.

“Do you want to know?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tell you.”

Nod.

“I’m going to tell you, and when I tell you, I want you to cum.”

Nod.

I began slowly sliding my fingers in and out of my sister’s pussy again.

“Marcie disobeyed me.”

My sister squirmed.

“Marcie disobeyed me, and that’s what happens when you disobey me.”

She started vibrating with need.

“You’re never going to disobey me, are you?”

“No! No, never!”

“Marcie disobeyed me ... and so I told her that I’d never fuck her again. That’s what destroyed her.

“That’s how powerful I am.”

Breaking through the blank haze of hypnosis, my sister’s face contorted in orgasm. Her pussy clenched around my fingers again and again, and when everything finally died down, she collapsed backwards onto the bed.

After a few seconds, I slowly withdrew my fingers; Lucy shuddered as I did.

“Lucy?”

“Yes?”

Her face was still blank, and her voice was still a monotone.

“How do you feel about visiting Marcie?”

The corner of her lips twitched, as if a smile was threatening.

“Sounds hot.”

“Good girl.”

My sister shivered in pleasure at the compliment.

****Session C15:****

“I hand you the survey.”

Nod.

“The third question is ‘when was the last time you masturbated?’. Do you answer?”

“Yes.”

“What do you put?”

“Nine days ago.”

I smiled. Just as I’d hoped.


	Chapter 30

**Session A64:**

“It’s important that your children are happy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“People who have sex three or more times each week are happier, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Your children should be having sex three or more times each week, shouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

“But they can only be doing that if they know about it, can’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Your son knows about it already from the textbook, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“But Lucy doesn’t know, does she?”

“No.”

“Someone needs to tell her, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You and I are the only ones who know about it. Who do you think it should be?”

“Me.”

**Session A119:**

“You don’t like talking to your children about sex, do you?”

“No.”

That had been true before I’d gone to work on her. Now, it was something Mom avoided obsessively. She wouldn’t even talk about things we’d discussed under hypnosis in the past.

“You are constantly thinking about sex.”

Nod.

“If you talk to your children about sex, you won’t be able to stop.”

Pause. Mom’s eyes widened very slightly. As far as she was concerned, she’d been sex-obsessed for her entire life. In reality, it had only been a few days, and I don’t think she’d processed how her old attitude worked in combination with her new state of constant horniness.

“If you talk to your children about sex, you won’t be able to stop. You’ll keep on talking about it - your filthy thoughts spilling from your mind, revealing to the world what a deviant you really are.”

Mom’s pupils narrowed with fear, and the pause stretched on.

“Your head is so full of filth, if you open your mouth, it’ll be like unleashing the flood. You’re a pervert, through and through, and refusing to talk about sex is the only way you can prevent that from being public knowledge.”

Maybe I should have stopped talking, but I felt like I was onto something. And the more vivid the painting I pictured, the more likely it was to work.

“You’ll talk about your deepest, darkest fantasies. You’ll let on that you sexualize everyone around you, everyone you’ve ever met. Everything you’ve thought about while getting off ... you’ll be exposed to the world for the freak that you are.”

Mom’s mouth fell open, and she nodded.

“Good,” I said. “It’s important that you never, ever discuss sex with your children, no matter what the circumstance.”

Nod.

“When will you discuss sex with your children?”

“Never,” Mom said, in a low monotone.

“Can you think of any situation where you would discuss sex with me?”

“No.”

“What about with Lucy?”

“No.”

“What if she came home with a big biker, and told you he was going to knock her up. Would you talk to her about sex then?”

Mom shook her head.

“What if they started having sex in front of you?”

Shake.

“What if...”

I leaned in close.

“What if when they were done, the biker started grabbing your tits?”

Mom’s eyes fluttered, just for a second - maybe bikers are one of her secret fantasies? - before shaking her head.

“What if Lucy did?”

I could see Mom’s eyes threatening to roll back in her head with pleasure, and I smiled.

**Session 43:** As soon as we got back from seeing Marcie, Lucy jumped me. I thought I’d seen everything, but the wild look on my sister’s eye was something new.

And after she’d sucked two loads of cum from me (getting herself off several times as she did), my sister insisted that I hypnotize her.

She didn’t just agree. She **insisted**.

“You will never disobey me, will you?”

“No, Master.”

“You will do everything I ask you to, won’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

It was tempting to wake her up and **tell** her I was going to fuck her. If it was really happening in real life, there was no way she could refuse. Right?

I was still a little shaken from seeing Marcie’s blank stare again, and so I firmly pushed the thought to the back of my head.

There was a smart way to do this. And the dumb way ... It wasn’t worth the risk.

Marcie had been just as unresponsive as the last time I’d seen her. We didn’t do much, just chatted to her. At her, really. She didn’t respond, except when we said anything sexual.

At the sound of anything sexual - even anything **remotely** sexual - she would silently cum.

It was creepy as hell, and just about as hot.

With a shiver, I set my mind to the task at hand.

“What do you know about nudism?”

My sister’s blank face tilted almost imperceptibly to the side.

“Like, nudist colonies?”

“Yes.”

**Session A120:**

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you only have two choices: You can do it, or you can talk about it with her.”

Pause.

Pause.

As the pause continued, I realized that maybe I was jumping the gun.

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, would you tell me what your choices are?”

“Some of them, yes.”

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, one choice is to do it.”

Nod.

“What are some other choices?”

“I can talk about it with her.”

“That’s not really a choice, is it?”

Pause. I pushed on.

“If you talk to her about it, you’ll reveal to the world what you are. What you think about. You’ll reveal your deviance. You’ll be exposed.”

Nod.

“Talking to her about it is the worst thing you can possibly do.”

Nod.

“So it’s not really a choice, is it?”

“No.”

“What are some other choices?”

“I could walk away.”

“If you walk away, she might want to talk about it.”

Nod.

“If you walk away, she might want to talk about sexual things with you.”

Nod.

“Walking away just delays the conversation. If you refuse to engage, that’s basically the same as talking to your daughter about sexual things, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Refusing to talk about sexual things means you’ll have to talk about them, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Actively refusing to talk about sexual things is the same as talking about sexual things.”

There was a long pause, but eventually my mother nodded.

“What else could you do?”

“I could lock myself away.”

“If you do that, if you avoid the situation, Lucy’s going to want to talk about it.”

Pause. Nod.

“You’ve raised intelligent children. If they want something and you refuse, they’re going to want to know why.”

Nod.

“If Lucy does something sexual and you avoid the situation, you’ll need to talk about it.”

Nod.

“Avoiding the situation is the same as talking about sexual things.”

Nod.

“You will never, ever talk about sexual things, will you?”

“No.”

“If Lucy does something sexual with you, what options do you have?”

There was a long, long pause. I watched my mother carefully, but she showed no sign that she was going to wake up.

“If Lucy does something sexual with you, aside from going along with it, do you have any other options?”

“ ... no.”

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you really only have one choice, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you won’t talk about it.”

Nod.

“If Lucy makes you do something sexual, you’ll do it.”

Nod.

**Session 43:**

“You like seeing how powerful I am, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Hypothetical: you start dreaming about my power.”

Nod.

“You dream about it every night.”

Nod.

“It becomes an obsession.”

Nod.

“You’re obsessed with me showing off my power.”

Nod.

“You’ve seen what I can do to Marcie, and it turns you on more than you can imagine.”

Nod.

“But Marcie is just a teenage girl, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“What would really show you how powerful I am?”

“If I...”

Lucy trailed off, but I don’t think it was because she was thinking.

I think it was because she was afraid of giving me the wrong answer.

**Session A124:**

“If you keep forcing Lucy to be the one to take your clothes off, she might want to talk about it.”

Nod.

I smiled. Once you worked out how someone worked, they were like putty. Sexy, obedient putty.

It had been almost two weeks, and every day had followed the same basic pattern: Mom would come home, and Lucy would make her remove her top.

“You don’t want to talk about it.”

Nod.

“You **can’t** talk about it.”

Nod.

Lucy, of course, had been more than happy to follow my instructions. She’d first raised the topic of nudism at dinner. Mom had gone bright red, and - exactly as expected - changed the topic immediately.

My sister hadn’t dropped it, however. Later that night, she repeated it, loudly: “I want us to live more naturally.

“I want us to all be nude at home.”

Again, Mom just blushed. Before she could come up with a new subject, however, Lucy stood up.

“This is who I **am** , Mom,” she announced, and removed her top.

I’ll tell you, the sight of my sister’s perfect tits falling into view ... it’s never, ever going to get old. Her rosy-pink nipples, growing hard as they met the living-room air. The slight wobble of her breasts as she lowered her arms, and threw her sweater onto the couch.

It’s always hot, but knowing that I was sharing the sight with my blushing, constantly-aroused mother?

Wow.

For the next few days, Lucy didn’t ever wear a top inside the house. Her boobs were out for every meal we had together as a family ... with Mom’s work schedule, that wasn’t many, but damn were they memorable.

I sort of missed watching her strip whenever Mom left, but ... well, the plan was working.

For her part, Mom was entranced. Not like she is when I put her under, but like, whenever Lucy and her were in the same room, she couldn’t look away.

She wasn’t turned on, she was just ... fascinated.

(She wasn’t turned on... **yet**.) After a few days, I could sense that Mom had started to relax. She no longer tensed up when her topless daughter bobbled into the room; by the end of the week, she barely even glanced down at Lucy’s magnificent, ever-present rack.

That was when we moved to the second stage.

Despite running it in hypothetical without issue, I still got nervous when the day arrived. When Mom came home to find Lucy waiting for her, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, a determined look in her eyes.

“This is what you want,” she said softly, and began unbuttoning Mom’s work shirt.

In response, Mom went still. She didn’t say a word, she didn’t resist - she barely breathed as her teenage daughter raised her arms and stripped off her shirt. She looked ahead, not at either of us, somehow looking through us as Lucy undid her bra, and Mom’s bosom fell into view.

It wasn’t until Mom breathed out raggedly that I realized I’d been holding my breath as well.

This was it.

This was what I’d been dreaming of for so long.

Over the last few months, I’d seen glimpses of Mom’s tits. I knew that they were large - slightly bigger than Lucy’s. I knew the color and shape of her nipples, I knew that they sagged more than my sister’s.

I knew that they were perfect.

None of us said anything - Mom avoiding eye-contact, looking everywhere but at her two children, me openly staring at her boobs.

It became a routine after that. She’d get home, Lucy would strip her.

And she wouldn’t get dressed again until she next had to leave the house.

“You’re going to start taking off your top as soon as you get home.”

Pause.

Pause.

Nod.

“Our house is a nudist house.”

Nod.

“You’re always going to be topless when we’re at home.”

Nod.

“You don’t want to talk about this with your children.”

Nod.

“The best way to avoid talking about it is just to go along with it.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“The best way to avoid talking about it,” Mom said, a slight quaver detectable in her monotone, “is just to go along with it.”

“As soon as you get home, you’re going to take off your top.”

Nod.

The next night, as soon as Mom got home from work, she took off her top.

**Session C17:**

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”

“ ... Marcie.”

“What was she doing?”

“She was ... on her knees. In front of me.”

“Would you tell me what she was doing there?”

“Yes.”

It hadn’t been easy, coming up with a believable hypothetical that required Richard to tell me about his dreams. I’d managed to find an obscure study about subconscious sexuality, and convinced Richard that the updated results required detailed information from all cross-sections of society.

I’d told him it was important research. That was Richard’s key, his button: science.

It had taken time, but eventually - it worked.

“She was ... going down on me.”

“Did you enjoy the dream?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

There was a pause. I pressed on.

“Did you achieve orgasm, in the dream?”

“No.”

“Do you think you would have enjoyed it if you had?”

**Session C19:**

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”

“Marcie.”

“What was she doing?”

“She was riding me.”

“Did you enjoy the dream?”

“Yes.”

“What did you enjoy about it?”

“Seeing her happy.”

**Session C20:**

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”

“Marcie.”

“What was she doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was ... taking her.”

“How?”

“From behind.”

“While she slept?”

“Yes.”

“Did you enjoy the dream?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Very much.”

“Do you want the dream to come true?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

Pause.

Richard didn’t respond.


	Chapter 31

****Session A125:****

“You can’t talk to your children about sex.”

Nod.

“No matter what they’re doing, if it’s related to sex, you can’t talk about it.”

Nod.

“You can never talk to your children about sex, even if it’s to do with their health.”

Nod.

“You can never talk to your children about sex, even if it’s to do with their mental well-being.”

Nod.

“You can never talk to your children about sex, no matter the situation, no matter how perverted they’re being.”

Nod.

“If you ever talk to your children about sex, you’ll be revealed as the pervert that you are.”

Nod.

“The only way to stay safe is to never talk about sex, no matter what.”

Nod.

I took a deep breath.

It was time.

“If you caught your children making out, you wouldn’t say a word.”

Mom choked on her own breath, then nodded. A flush slowly began to run up her neck, and she shifted very slightly in her chair.

I couldn’t tell if she was uncomfortable or aroused.

Or, knowing the changes I’d made to Mom ... both.

“If you caught them touching each other, you wouldn’t say anything about it.”

Blush. Nod.

“If you caught them having sex, it wouldn’t be something you could talk about with them.”

Nod.

“But it would turn you on.”

Pause. Long pause.

As Mom continued to stare glassy-eyed, I realized that this was a new idea. This was something she’d never even considered before.

It worried me. I honestly didn’t know how she was going to react.

I don’t like not knowing how people are going to react.

Not since Marcie.

Finally, the pause ended, and Mom nodded.

She was still squirming, and I didn’t know what to do. She was blushing; I didn’t know if it was from embarrassment, arousal, or both.

Her eyes looked like they wanted to dart around the room nervously. They’d never done that before.

It took me a moment to realize that I was squirming as well. I was so damn tense - tenser than I’d ever been while hypnotizing a family member before.

Was I flying too close to the sun? Or was I so worked up because I was almost there?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

“Hypothetical: one day, you walk in to find your children making out.”

Shake.

Yeah, that’s what I’d expected. I was just glad it hadn’t woken her up.

Mom thought that **she** was a pervert, but aside from Lucy’s recent obsession with nudism, she had no reason to think there was anything wrong with the rest of us.

I wondered how she’d feel, when she found that we were all sickos. Would she be comforted, like Lucy was? Or would she feel responsible?

Not that it really mattered. It was happening, no matter how she felt about it.

I took a deep breath.

It was time.

“Hypothetical: You are talking to the neighbor who told you about the burglary at Marcie’s house.”

Nod.

Immediately, Mom’s entire body calmed. She was transported away from the questions I was asking, into a conversation with this hypothetical neighbor.

“You want to learn as much as you can about Marcie’s situation, don’t you?”

“No.”

Whew. Close one. Got to remember not to ask questions.

Also, not the answer I was expecting.

“The more you learn about what happened to Marcie, the more you can incorporate it into your fantasies.”

Nod.

“Would you tell me why you don’t want to learn more about what happened to Marcie?”

“No.”

Okay. Okay. I can work this one out. Mom was sexually obsessed with her daughter’s best friend’s unfortunate situation. She thought about it all the time - it fueled her every masturbation session.

Why would she not want to learn more?

“Hypothetical: you find a stack of naked pictures of Marcie in Lucy’s room.”

Nod. I think Mom was too flustered to question that one as much as she should have.

“What do you do?”

“I turn around and march straight out of the room.”

“Do you... -”

I cut myself off, wanting to slap myself in the forehead. C’mon. No questions. That was Mom-Hypnosis 101.

“You go to your room and masturbate.”

Nod.

“The next time you enter Lucy’s room, they’re not anywhere obvious.”

Nod.

“You go looking for them.”

Shake.

Why was she ... ohhhhh.

That’s right.

“You strive to avoid perversion and deviancy.”

Nod.

It’s only when she’s unwillingly exposed to it that it gets in her head. I hadn’t taken into account how much of a puritan I’d turned Mom into.

It was really hard to think of her that way. I mean, she was constantly topless, and spent most of her time rubbing herself to orgasm after orgasm.

Okay. Puritan. I could work with this.

“Hypothetical: you’re talking to the neighbor who told you about Marcie’s situation.”

Nod.

“They have new information, and insist on sharing it with you. What do you do?”

“I politely tell them that I don’t want to... -”

I cut Mom off.

“They **insist**. If you refuse to hear about it, you’ll have to talk to them about sex. You don’t want to talk to them about sex, do you?”

“No.”

“They start to tell you some more details about the case that they overheard. What do you say?”

“Uh huh,” Mom said, clearly trying desperately to sound uninterested.

“They tell you that...”

Would Mom believe this? Maybe I had to butter her up a bit first.

“They tell you that their brother is a behavioral psychologist, and that he was assigned to her case.”

Nod.

“They found out why she ... deteriorated so quickly.”

Nod.

“They remind you that during the burglary, Marcie and her father were forced to have sex.”

Nod.

“Your mind is filled with images of their incestuous union, but you make sure not to let it show on your face.”

Nod.

“You force yourself to tune back into what they’re saying. If they ask why you’re not listening, you’ll have to talk about sex, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to talk about sex, do you?”

“No.”

“You can’t talk about sex, can you?”

“No.”

“Talking about sex would out you to the world as a deviant.”

Nod.

“They’re telling you that their brother has worked out what happened to Marcie.”

Nod.

“They’re telling you that it could have been prevented.”

Nod.

“They give you the number of the scientific paper on the subject. It’s B-104-556-218.”

Nod. Mom’s a sucker for authoritative sources, but I knew she’d never look it up.

“They tell you exactly how it could have been prevented.”

Nod.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“They tell you that a forced incestuous union causes a deep trauma in a teenager’s brain. It dramatically rewires their sexual impulses. If these new impulses aren’t quickly reinforced, it causes the entire brain to collapse. That’s what happened to Marcie - she had her impulses rewritten so dramatically, so strongly; without them being reinforced, she never stood a chance.”

Nod.

“The impulses get rewritten so that the teen needs to repeat the experience.”

Pause. Blush. Blush.

Pause.

Pause.

Then, just as I was starting to panic:

Nod.

“Repeating the experience would have reinforced the impulses, and she would have been fine. She would have gone on to live a normal, healthy life. Instead, she’s trapped in her own mind, endlessly reliving the burglary.”

Nod.

“If Marcie’s father had just had sex with her, she’d be fine.”

Nod.

“If Marcie and her father had just repeated what happened, she would have been a normal, healthy teen.”

Nod.

“But her father wasn’t a teenager, and so his impulses weren’t rewired.”

Nod.

“He didn’t want to do it; he saw it as an awful, traumatic experience that should never be revisited.”

Nod.

“When she threw herself at him, trying desperately to repair her mind, he rejected her.”

Nod.

“And because her father didn’t have sex with her, her mind collapsed.”

Nod.

“Because they didn’t repeat the experience, she’s forced to live the rest of her life as a shell of her former self.”

Nod.

“The neighbor goes on. What do you do?”

“I nod.”

“Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“Are you taking it all in?”

“Yes.”

“Good g... -”

I cut myself off. I’d been ‘Good girl’ing Lucy so much, it had become a habit. But I got the feeling that Mom wouldn’t like it.

“She goes on to tell you that the research shows that just repeating it once isn’t enough. To really ensure that the mind isn’t completely destroyed, the victims have to repeat it again and again and again and again, over and over.”

Nod.

“In order to escape from such an ordeal unharmed, Marcie would have needed to have sex with her father regularly.”

Nod.

“They would have had to have sex a few times a week for years.”

Nod.

“Your mind flashes with images of Marcie, on her knees in front of her father; sucking his dick, taking him inside her every hole.”

Nod.

“You’re dripping wet, and you just can’t wait to get off.”

Nod.

“These thoughts are going to be fueling your sick fantasies for months, if not years.”

Nod.

“The knowledge that Marcie could have been normal if she’d just had sex with her father ... it’s going to take over your brain.”

Nod.

“It’s all you’ll be able to think about.”

Nod.

“You’re going to cum and cum and cum, imagining your daughter’s best friend being used by her Dad as a little fuckhole.”

Mom doesn’t like it when I swear, but I doubt she even noticed.

She nodded.

“You’re soaked at the idea.”

Nod.

You might be wondering if I needed to be so graphic ... well, maybe not. But it was fun to watch Mom get so flustered. That, and I **really** needed to lock this idea into her head, or the next part of the plan was never going to work.

I swallowed - my mouth was so dry! - and continued.

“Do you believe what the neighbor told you?”

“Yes.”

“You believe that after a traumatic incestuous experience, teenagers have their sexual impulses rewired.”

Nod.

“You believe that they need to repeat it over and over, for years, or their mind will collapse ... like Marcie’s did.”

Nod.

“You are wet thinking about it for days.”

Nod.

“You go into your room every chance you get, and cum at the idea.”

Nod.

“There are only two options after an experience like that - life as a braindead sex zombie, or being forced to repeat the experience.”

Nod.

“You find them both **incredibly** hot, don’t...”

I cut myself off. Almost asked another question.

“You find them both incredibly hot.”

Nod.

“You can’t stop thinking about either scenario.”

Nod.

Good.

Now ... now for the hard part.

From what’s happened so far, you might not believe it, but I really don’t think of myself as a bad guy. I know that trancing one’s entire family into sex slaves isn’t the right thing to do, but ... it wasn’t like I was tying them up and making them fuck me.

I wanted them to want me. It’s not the same, y’know?

And the **last** thing I wanted was for anyone to suffer. What happened to Marcie was eating me up inside, and I was determined not to let that happen to anyone else, ever.

Ever.

That’s why I was working so hard to avoid it. If what happened to Marcie happened to my Mom and sister as well, I’d never be able to forgive myself. And, like, I’d still get to fuck them. It was more than that.

I loved them. They were my family. I wanted to take care of them, and I didn’t want to cause them any pain.

And that’s why what I did next was so difficult.

In order to create familial bliss, I had to first cause some pain.

With a deep sigh, I continued.

“A week after your chat with the neighbor ... our house is burgled.”

I winced as Mom’s eyes widened, but she didn’t hesitate before nodding.

“You’re at work.”

Nod.

“Me and Lucy were alone.”

Nod.

“If you were at home, maybe you could have done something.”

Nod.

A tear trickled down my mother’s cheek, and I wanted to end the hypothetical. I wanted to hug her, tell her that everything was okay, that no one was hurt.

But if I did that... 

No. I couldn’t.

It wasn’t an option.

“You weren’t home,” I repeated, my voice slightly choked up. “You weren’t home, so what happened was...”

I paused to wipe my own eye.

“You weren’t home, so what happened was your fault.”

Sorry, Mom.

Nod.

****Session A3:****

“You love me, don’t you Mom?”

“Yes.”

“And you love Lucy.”

“Yes.”

“And you know that I love you.”

“Yes.”

“And that I love Lucy.”

“Yes.”

“You know that I’ll never do anything to hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“So while you’re hypnotized, you can trust me.”

“Yes.”

“While you’re hypnotized, you’re completely safe.”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“While I’m hypnotized, I’m completely safe.”

“And you can trust me to hypnotize Lucy.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you love us, and you’ll never do anything to hurt either one of us.”

****Session A125:****

“While you were out, a burglar came in. The same one who robbed Marcie.”

Nod.

“The burglar forced...”

Mom’s skin paled. She knew what was coming next.

“The burglar likes to make family members play with each other.”

Nod.

“The burglar likes to make family members do sexual things with each other.”

Nod.

“Against their will.”

Nod.

“While you were out working, the burglar made me fuck Lucy.”

Nod.

“If I didn’t do what he said, he would have killed us both.”

Nod.

“He had a knife to Lucy’s throat as he made her suck my cock.”

Nod.

“He had a knife to her throat as she swallowed my cum.”

Nod.

“He held us hostage.”

Nod.

“We had no choice.”

Nod.

“He made Lucy go down on me.”

Nod.

“He made me go down on Lucy.”

Nod.

“Lucy came from me going down on her.”

Nod.

“He made me fuck Lucy.”

Nod.

“He made me fuck her in the ... in the ass.”

Nod.

“He made me fuck her in the pussy.”

Nod.

“He made me cum all over her body.”

Nod.

“Lucy came from me fucking her.”

Nod.

“Lucy came from me fucking her in the ass.”

Nod.

“Lucy and I made each other cum, over and over again.”

Nod.

“We were held hostage for hours, fucking each other over and over again, doing everything he told us to.”

Nod.

“When you come home, he’s gone.”

Nod.

“We tell you about everything that happened.”

Nod.

“Lucy’s crying.”

Nod.

“I’m ... I’m crying as well.”

Nod.

“We’re both still naked.”

Nod.

“You can see my cum, drying on Lucy’s body.”

Nod.

“You can smell the scent of sex.”

Nod.

“You can see our bruises.”

Nod.

“You can see Lucy’s ... privates are red.”

Nod.

“It’s obvious that we’ve been through hell.”

Nod.

“When we tell you about this, you have no choice but to listen.”

Nod.

“We tell you about the ordeal that we’ve been through, and you have to listen to every detail.”

Nod.

“But you can’t say anything, can you?”

“No.”

“You can’t talk to us about sex, can you?”

“No.”

“If you start talking to us about sex, it’ll all come out, won’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If you start talking to us about sex, we’ll find out what a pervert you are, won’t we?”

“Yes.”

“So while we tell you about everything that happened, you have to remain completely silent.”

Nod.

“We tell you about our ordeal, and you don’t say a thing.”

Nod.

My heart felt like it was being torn in half as I watched the steady stream of tears pour down my mother’s face, but I couldn’t stop.

Not yet.

I was **so close**.

“We tell you about the most stressful, horrible, awful ordeal of our life, and you don’t say a word. You don’t offer any support, you don’t tell us it’s going to be okay.”

Nod.

“When we’re done talking, you get up.”

Nod.

“You go to your room.”

Nod.

“And you get yourself off.”

Mom was openly sobbing at this point, but she still nodded.

“You have the most powerful orgasm of your life.”

Nod.

“The closer perverted things are to home, the more they turn you on.”

Nod.

“The sicker they are, the more hot you find them.”

Nod.

“The closer they are to people you know and love, the more erotic you find it.”

Nod.

**It’s okay, Mom,** I wanted to whisper. **None of this happened. It’s just a story.**

But if I did, one of two things would happen: my ultimate fantasy would never come true ... or I’d have to put her through this again.

Both options were unacceptable.

“Something this sick, this perverted ... something like this, happening to **your own family**...”

Mom nodded, before I even finished my thought.

“It consumes your mind.”

Nod.

“It’s all you can think about.”

Nod.

“You become a dripping, sopping mess.”

Nod.

“You failed your family.”

Nod.

“You can’t stop getting off, thinking about your children.”

Nod.

“You masturbate constantly, thinking about your children fucking.”

Nod.

“You’re always aroused.”

Nod.

“You’re always wet.”

Nod.

“Your nipples are always hard.”

Nod.

“You touch yourself whenever you get a chance.”

Nod.

“You can get off just from tweaking your nipples, thinking about your son titty-fucking your daughter.”

Shake.

Ah, crap. Maybe Mom doesn’t have Lucy’s hair-trigger orgasm capabilities?

Or maybe... 

Oh.

“We told you that the burglar made me fuck Lucy’s tits.”

Nod.

“You can get off just from pinching your nipples, thinking about your son titty-fucking your daughter.”

Nod.

“You’re a terrible mother.”

Nod.

“You’re a walking orgasm.”

Nod.

“Sex is all you think about.”

Nod.

“You become obsessed with incest.”

Nod.

“You become obsessed with your son and daughter fornicating.”

Nod.

“It’s all you think about.”

Nod.

“You cum all the time.”

Nod.

“You cum six times a day.”

Nod.

“At least.”

Nod.

“You think about your children as you do.”

Nod.

“You’re an awful mother.”

Nod.

“You’re a complete slut.”

Nod.

The crying had stopped. Mom’s eyes and face were still red, but she’d stopped shuddering, and the tears had stopped sliding down her face.

She was shifting in her chair, and I could tell that she wanted nothing more than to get off. There was more work that I needed to do, but I didn’t want to push it. Not today.

Still, I needed to make sure that the memory stuck, and that it wouldn’t affect her willingness to be hypnotized, or affect her nudism.

Well, I didn’t **need** to make sure it didn’t affect her nudism, but I had gotten used to my Mom walking around with her tits out, and I didn’t want that to change any time soon.

“You remember that the neighbor told you it was important not to change things up after a traumatic event. Marcie’s father changed their routine, and that made the effect even worse.”

Nod.

“It’s important not to change your behavior.”

Nod.

“After the burglary, you keep taking off your clothes each day after work.”

Nod.

“You keep letting your son hypnotize you.”

Nod.

“If Lucy does something sexual, you can’t talk about it.”

Nod.

“If Lucy does something sexual, you have to go along with it.”

Nod.

“If Lucy does something sexual, it adds to your arousal.”

Nod.

“Whenever you witness your children doing something sexual, it turns you on beyond belief.”

Nod.

I paused. Was I forgetting anything?

Ah.

“And you never, ever talk to them about what happened. You don’t tell the police, you don’t tell your friends, you don’t tell your boss. No one can ever know about what happened ... because then, you’d be talking about sex. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe if you’d told someone, your children would have been able to get help.”

Nod.

“Maybe there would have been another way.”

Nod.

“But they didn’t, because of your hang-ups, and so they were forced to fuck each other.”

Nod.

“It’s your fault.”

Nod.

I was hard as a rock. I read somewhere that a crying woman makes men hard; it’s like, a biological thing.

That’s what it had to be, right?

I cleaned Mom’s face up as best as I could and slowly woke her, locking in the horrific memories of her children’s abuse ... and her deviant reaction to them.

This was going to be ... well, interesting.


	Chapter 32

I didn’t tell Lucy about what I’d done to Mom.

A part of me was scared, I guess. I knew it was a means to an end - a happy ending, in every sense of the phrase.

But I also knew that what I’d done was ... well, it wasn’t you’d call **nice**.

I think I could have. Lucy was so turned on by my power; even if I was being a monster, I’m sure she’d still love it.

Maybe she’d love it more.

But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I love my sister, I love my Mom. Seeing Mom break down like that ... it had almost been more than I could deal with.

I couldn’t share that with my sister. I just couldn’t do it.

Watching Mom over the next few days though ... god.

It absolutely worth it.

Where she’d been fascinated by Lucy’s bare breasts for the nudism aspect, now it was clear that she was obsessed with them for the same reason as me: Because they’re perfect, glorious orbs of pure sex.

Lucy noticed Mom’s attention. She told me about it, when she was awake. I answered honestly, sort of:

“I think she’s into you.”

Lucy almost came at the words.

Lucy had spent some time teasing me, before becoming my slave. Wearing slutty outfits, bending over when she knew I was looking. It only took an order - not even a session - to convince her to do the same with Mom, except more-so. She didn’t have to tease with skimpy clothes ... she could tease with her bare skin.

Whenever she caught Mom looking at her, she’d casually run a hand down her breast, brush a finger against her nipple. Lucy would often walk around the house in nothing but a pair of panties; if Mom was looking, she’d spread her legs, ensure her wet spot was visible.

And there was always a wet spot.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to hide my lust for my sister. As far as Mom was concerned, we’d fucked. Our impulses had been rewritten; I could stare at my sister’s perfect form, bite my lip when she was being particularly provocative ... and whenever both my Mom and Lucy were in the room, keep the outline of my hard cock as visible through my boxers as I liked.

Mom’s implanted memories also meant that Lucy and I had a lot more time to ourselves. More than six times a day, I’d said - that left Lucy and I alone a **lot**.

I wouldn’t have believed it if you’d told me a year ago, but there’s a limit to how much time I wanted to spend jerking off on my sister’s face, or having her swallow yet another load of my cum.

Fortunately, I had another way we could spend our time.

****Session 43:****

“What would really show you how powerful I am?”

I’d planned on telling her about what I’d done to Mom, the changes I’d wrought. I’d planned on demonstrating my power by showing her what I’d done to our mother.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do that, so I needed a new plan.

“If I...”

There was a long pause, as Lucy mustered up the courage to answer.

“If you fucked me.”

I tilted my head to the side. My sister, god bless her, never failed to surprise me.

“Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because ... it’s wrong. It’s incest. We can never do it.”

I guess that made sense. If I made her do something that she insisted we could **never** do, that would be proof of my power.

Only trouble was, the reason I was trying to establish my power was so that I **could** fuck her.

I needed another angle.

“What if I fucked Mom?”

Lucy’s eyes fluttered briefly. If I’d been touching her (or she’d been touching me), I’d bet anything that she would have cum at the question.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, if you fucked Mom, that would show me how powerful you are.”

“Why?”

“Because Mom would never do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s incest. Because it’s wrong.”

I don’t know if there’s a name for it, but I’ve noticed that my sister tends to project her morals onto other people a lot. She thinks that fucking your sibling is wrong, therefore I’d never do it. Therefore, I’d never ask her to.

Lucy **would** do it if I asked her to, but because **she** thinks it’s so wrong, it’s something that I would never ask her to do.

It’s a little recursive, and a whole lot of a nuisance.

“If I showed you I was that powerful, how would you feel?”

There was a pause, as Lucy found the right word.

“Awed.”

“What would you do?”

“Anything.”

My ears perked up at that.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“If I fucked Mom, would you fuck me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d be so powerful.”

“So?”

“So you’d be too powerful to resist.”

****Session 49:****

“I am all-powerful, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot resist me, can you?”

“No.”

“What will you do if I order you to do something?”

“I will obey.”

“What if you don’t want to?”

“I will obey.”

“What if you think that it’s wrong?”

“I will obey.”

“Say it again.”

“I will obey.”

“Again.”

“I will obey.”

****Session 43:****

“Would you have sex with Mom?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be incest, and it’s wrong.”

Interesting, though not unexpected.

“Is it incest when you go down on me?”

“No.”

“Is it incest when I finger you?”

“No.”

“Is it incest when I go down on you?”

“No.”

“So going down on someone or fingering them isn’t incest, is it?”

“No.”

“Would you finger Mom?”

“ ... yes.”

“Would you go down on Mom?”

“Yes.”

That one came faster, firmer. After all, it wasn’t incest, right?

“Would you let Mom finger you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let Mom go down on you?”

“Yes.”

Zero hesitation.

“So ... what would count as having sex with Mom?”

There was a long pause at that one.

“ ... I don’t know.”

I could have left it there. If Lucy and Mom were ‘just’ eating each other out and cumming around each other’s digits, that was more than enough for me.

But I had to push through Lucy’s incest barrier somehow, and this was as good a place as any to start.

“Lesbian sex is fingering and oral, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. And toys.”

“You let me use toys on you, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you use toys on me?”

“Yes.”

Not that I wanted her to.

“So using toys isn’t incest, is it?”

“No.”

“Would you use toys on Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let Mom use toys on you?”

“Yes.”

“Fingering, oral, toys - you’d do it all with Mom?”

“Yes.”

“So you’d have sex with Mom, wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause. I always got uncomfortable when there was a long pause. I’d already fried one person’s mind; I definitely didn’t want to do it again.

But I’d seen this before. Lucy is good at tying herself into weird loops, and it takes her a while to unravel them.

“ ... yes.”

“Would you commit incest with Mom?”

“Yes.”

“Would it be wrong?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s different, with girls. It doesn’t count.”

I rolled my eyes. For someone so progressive, Lucy’s sense of gender politics could be really twisted when it suited her.

****Session 49:****

“I was born to be your slave.”

“Say it again.”

“I was born to be your slave.”

“Good girl.”

My sister twitched with pleasure at the compliment.

“You were born to serve. Say it.”

“I was born to serve.”

“Again.”

“I was born to serve.”

****Session 43:****

“Hypothetical: you walk in on me and Mom having sex.”

Shake.

I knew she’d react that way, of course, but I was out of ideas.

“Why don’t you believe I’d have sex with Mom?”

“It’s incest.”

“Incest can be hot, can’t it?”

“ **Yes.** “

Even through the monotone, Lucy almost sounded like she was begging.

“So what would stop me?”

“It’s wrong.”

I could get lost for hours in the maze that is my sister’s morality, but I couldn’t see it being worth it. If she thinks something is wrong, or unfair, she ... My eyes widened.

**Unfair.**

“Hypothetical: You start having regular sex with Mom.”

Nod.

I was almost tripping over my words, such was my desperation to get them out.

“You and Mom start having regular sex.”

Nod. I didn’t even have to build into it; Lucy was completely onboard with having regular sex with Mom.

I mean, why wouldn’t she? It wouldn’t be incest, after all.

“You know how much it turns me on.”

Nod.

“You know how hard it gets me.”

Nod.

“But you also know that I’m jealous.”

Lucy paused, and I elaborated.

“I love both of you, and I find you both so attractive.”

Nod. I’d never explicitly let Lucy know how sexy I found Mom, but I guess she’d just sort of worked it out.

“I’d love to have sex with either of you, but I can’t.”

Nod.

“Because it’s **wrong**.”

Nod.

“But you and Mom can have sex, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You have Mom can have sex - in front of me - and it’s totally fine, because it’s not incest.”

Nod.

“But if I were to have sex with one of you, that would be incest.”

Nod.

“I tell you how much it’s hurting me, knowing that you two can be together and that we can’t. What do you say?”

“Jack,” Lucy said tenderly. “It’s not the same. You know it’s not the same.”

“I tell you that I know, but it still doesn’t stop the pain. What do you say?”

“I’ll stop.”

The matter-of-fact way that she answered made my heart melt. It sometimes felt like my sister would do anything for me.

Well, almost anything.

“I tell you that I can’t make you do that; I know how much you enjoy it. How much Mom enjoys it. What do you say?”

“Please...”

Lucy trailed off. I smiled.

Doubt. She didn’t have an answer. There was a gap.

And where there was a gap, there were limits, ready to be pushed.

****Session 49:****

“Who were you born to serve?”

“You.”

“Good girl.”

Twitch.

“You exist for my pleasure. Say it.”

“I exist for your pleasure.”

“Again.”

“I exist for your pleasure.”

“Good girl.”

If my fingers hadn’t been deep inside her, I think she would have twitched right off the chair.

****Session 43:****

“Do you enjoy what we do?”

“Yes.”

Zero hesitation there.

“What do you enjoy about it?”

“Serving you.”

Again, not even a hint of doubt.

“How does it make you feel?”

“Happy. Turned on. Fulfilled.”

I didn’t even remember instructing her to feel fulfilled. The idea that she just naturally felt that way was **so** hot to me, but I had to stay focused.

“How do you feel about us going back to how we were before?”

Lucy didn’t even need to answer; the look of sadness that passed across her blank gaze said it all.

“You don’t want to disobey me, do you?”

“No sir.”

“Hypothetical: You’re having regular sex with our mother, and I get jealous. I’m upset that I can’t have sex with either of you, because it’s wrong. I tell you that there are only two choices: I start having sex with one of you, or we all have to end it. What do you say?”

My sister paused, and I gripped my own leg hard enough to leave a bruise. I was watching her face like a hawk - any sign of her waking up meant that I had to dive in, reverse the hypothetical. She couldn’t wake up now, thinking she was having regular sex with our mother.

Not yet.

It was minutes (that felt like hours), just as I was about to pull the plug, before she answered. Slowly. Cautiously.

Thoughtfully.

“ ... what if we worked things out, so that...”

I waited.

“What if we worked things out, so that ... so that you and Mom could ... have sex?”

****Session 44:**** The next time I put Lucy under, I ran the same hypothetical, just to be sure.

The pause was shorter this time, but the answer was the same.

“What if you and Mom had sex?”

I smiled.

“Wouldn’t that be incest?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t that be **wrong**?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that I’d do it?”

“Yes.”

“In what circumstances?”

“If ... if I made you.”

Lucy, for all her submissive tendencies, is a real control freak.

Me fucking our mother? Impossible. Would never happen. Never, ever, ever.

Unless, of course, it was for **her**.

As far as she was concerned, she was still the one who had been leading us down this path of sin. Me dominating her, owning her, bringing her off with my hand: it had been **her** fantasy. Everything she’d done ... she’d convinced herself that it wasn’t **wrong** , it wasn’t **incest**.

Because it was her idea.

“How could you make me?”

“I could cry. Beg. Plead.”

“In what situation would you do that?”

“If I thought things were going to end.”

I smiled.

“You think things are going to end between us unless I fuck you or Mom. What do you do?”

“I convince you to fuck Mom.”

Amazing. Something occurred to me; something I hadn’t thought of in the previous session.

“Why Mom? Why not you?”

“Because if we had sex, that would be incest.”

“Isn’t it incest if I fuck Mom?”

“Yes, but...”

I rode out the pause.

“ ... it isn’t as bad.”

Interesting.

“Why isn’t it as bad if I fuck Mom?”

As Lucy paused, I silently wondered what she was going to say. Because Mom was older? Because Mom was less likely to get pregnant? Because Mom was our ... Mom?

“Because you’d be doing it for me,” Lucy eventually answered.

“What do you mean?”

“You’d never do it yourself. You’d never do something so wrong. But if I asked you to, you’d do it ... for me.”

I took a moment to ponder my sister’s bizarre moral stance. There was a certain logic to it, I suppose. It seemed my sister believed that if someone did something out of **necessity** , it wasn’t as bad as doing it for pleasure.

Like when I’d ‘broken my arms’. My sister had jerked me off 34 to 37 times. I knew she’d enjoyed it, and she knew she’d enjoyed it. But because she’d **had** to, that enjoyment ... hadn’t counted, so to speak.

We could do stuff that was wrong, as long as it was for the right reasons.

And in my sister’s beautiful, twisted mind, allowing her to continue fooling around with me was a prime example of a ‘right reason’ to commit incest.

Y’know. As long as it wasn’t **her** that was doing it.

“Why would it be bad if I fucked you?” I asked, pretty sure that I already knew the answer.

“Because,” my sister said hesitantly. “I’d enjoy it too much.”

****Session 47:****

“Please,” my sister begged. “Please please please please please please please.”

“‘I tell you ‘no’. What do you say?”

“ **Please**...”

“I say no, not until I do. What do you say?”

“Oh god, please. I’ll do anything!”

I smiled. That was what I’d been waiting to hear.

****Session A127:****

It had been a week. For a full week, Mom had been cumming more than six times a day, picturing me and Lucy fucking.

Forty-two orgasms, minimum. Her head full of images of her only two children, fornicating at knife-point.

I’d hypnotized her once in that week, just to avoid suspicion, but it had only been for a few minutes. I didn’t want to risk messing around with Mom’s new thought patterns, not until they’d had a chance to settle.

I figured a week was enough time.

“You are constantly, uncontrollably aroused by your own children.”

Nod.

“You know that they’ve fucked.”

Nod.

“You know that they’ve done things that siblings should never, ever do.”

Nod.

“And you know that it’s permanently rewired their impulses.”

Mom froze - at least, as much as an entranced, already-stationary person **can** freeze.

Her eyes widened, her breathing quickened, and a slight flush began to creep up her neck.

Nod.

“You know that they’re going to do it again.”

Nod.

“You know that they **need** to do it again.”

Nod.

“You know that your children are going to fuck again, in the house.”

Nod.

“They’ve both been permanently altered.”

Nod.

“They **need** to fuck again, or they’ll end up like Marcie.”

Twitch. Nod.

“Your children are going to fuck inside the house.”

Nod.

“If they don’t, they’re going to suffer permanent mental damage.”

Nod.

“You don’t want that.”

Nod.

“As a mother, you’re concerned for your children.”

Nod.

“But you also know that you can never, ever talk to them about this.”

Nod.

“So there’s only one thing you can do, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

My mother’s mumble was hard for me to catch, but I knew that she’d agree.

She’s a great Mom.

“You need to make sure that they’re messing around.”

Nod.

“You need to make sure that your children are fooling around with each other.”

Nod.

“You **need** to, for their safety.”

Nod.

“Since you can’t talk to them about it, for your children’s well-being, you need to make sure they’re fucking.”

Nod.

“You can’t talk to them about it.”

Nod.

“You can’t say anything to them.”

Nod.

“So the only way to confirm it’s happening is to catch them in the act.”

Nod.

“You need to watch your children fooling around.”

Nod.

“You need to watch Lucy sucking your son off.”

Nod.

“You need to watch me going down on your daughter.”

Nod.

“You need to watch me fucking her tits.”

Nod.

“Cumming on her face.”

Nod.

“Cumming on her body.”

Nod.

“Only once you’ve seen all of those things will you be sure that they’re safe.”

Nod.

“That means that you’ll need to spy on them, all the time.”

Nod.

“You’ll need to watch your children getting each other off, every time you get the chance.”

Nod.

“These perverted images are going to enter your mind.”

Nod.

“You’re going to have even more fuel to get off to.”

Nod.

“But it’s something you **have** to do, for your children.”

Nod.

“After you confirm what they’re doing, you’ll go to your room and get off.”

Nod.

“You’ll have the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever had.”

Nod.

“The fresh images running through your head will turn you on more than you can imagine.”

Nod.

“After all these decades of imagining perversity, you’re going to **see** it.”

Nod.

“You **have** to see it.”

Nod.

“You are going to watch your children fool around, then get off to what you’ve seen.”

Nod.

With a smile, I woke Mom up, and she blushingly thanked me for helping her relax.

****Session 44:**** Lucy was going to beg me to fuck Mom. I could make her do it in real life; I knew exactly the cards I had to play.

But first, she had to be having regular sex with Mom.

“New hypothetical: I order you to, next time you’re alone with Mom, make out with her.”

Shake.

God damn it, Lucy. You can never make anything easy, can you?

“Hypothetical: I tell you that I’d find it really hot if you made out with Mom. It’s not an order, I’m just talking dirty.”

Nod.

“You decide to do it, just to please me.”

Pause.

Nod.

With a smile, I woke her up.

“ ... what were we talking about?”

“I was talking dirty, sis.”

“Oh, yeah...”

“Suck my cock, slut.”

Lucy dropped to her knees without hesitation.

****Session A128:**** Mom had been spying on us for less than twenty-four hours when I put her under again. Every time me and Lucy were alone, I could tell that she was lurking. To help her out, I started leaving the door ajar wherever we fooled around. I made a mental note to only hypnotize Lucy when Mom wasn’t home - **that** was the one thing I didn’t want her to see. Not that it wouldn’t be hot, having Mom work that into her fantasies, but I didn’t want to do anything that risked Mom refusing to let me put her under again.

Not when I was so close.

“It’s important that you continue to act as you did before the burglary, isn’t it?”

Mom nodded, a blush rising just at the memory of what Lucy and I had ‘done’.

“That means that you won’t talk to your children about sex, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If you talk to your children about sex, you’ll be exposed as a deviant.”

Nod.

“You want to avoid that at all costs.”

Nod.

I took a deep breath. Time to go.

“Your children’s sexual impulses were rewired, weren’t they?”

“We should really do this more often,” Mom smiled.

Whoops. Question.

****Session A129:****

“Your children’s sexual impulses were rewired.”

Nod.

I’d put Mom under again immediately. She’d posed no objection.

“They now find incest sexually appealing.”

Nod.

“Their taboos have been completely stripped away.”

Nod.

“Family don’t find each other sexy, do they?”

“No.”

“But your children have been altered.”

There was a long pause, followed by a slow nod.

“Your son and daughter find each other sexy now.”

Nod.

“That means they find family members sexy.”

Nod.

“You’ve got a sexy body.”

Nod. I was glad to know that Mom’s higher self-image had stuck, even after the rest of my messing around.

“You have a sexy body.”

Nod.

“Your children now find family members sexy.”

Nod.

“That means that they’re going to find you sexy.”

Pause. Nod.

“You still strip off when you get home.”

Nod. She did.

“You strip off when you get home, and you walk around naked.”

Nod.

“Your body is sexy, and you expose it to your children.”

Nod.

“Your children are going to notice your sexy body.”

Nod.

“Your children are going to notice your sexy body, and find it sexy.”

Nod.

“Your children find you sexy.”

Nod.

“Your children have been rewired to lose their taboos, and they find you sexy.”

Nod.

Phew. I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew that once Mom agreed to that, the rest was going to be relatively easy.

“You have never talked to your children about sex, have you?”

“No.”

“You refuse to talk to your children about sex.”

Nod.

“But since the burglary, you’ve seen them having sex.”

Nod.

“You’ve seen that Lucy is quite aggressive.”

Nod.

My sister is very submissive, actually. But she loves doing what she’s told, so when I ordered her to start aggressively initiating all our sexual contact, she did.

“You’ve seen that when she wants something, she takes it.”

Nod.

“You’ve seen that what she wants is your son.”

Nod.

“You’ve seen her insist that he fuck her tits, that she blow him, that she go down on him.”

Nod.

“You know that when your daughter thinks something is sexy, she doesn’t hesitate to act upon that attraction.”

Nod.

“Your daughter thinks that you’re sexy.”

Again, Mom tensed up. Again, a slight pause.

And again, she nodded.

“That means your daughter is going to act on that attraction.”

Nod.

“That means your daughter is going to make a move on you.”

Nod.

“To refuse would be to talk about sex, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“So when your daughter makes a move on you, you’re not going to talk about it.”

Nod.

“You’re going to just go along with whatever she does.”

Nod.

“It’s going to turn you on.”

Nod.

“Sexual contact with your daughter is going to be the single most perverse thing you’ve ever done.”

Nod.

“And the hottest.”

Nod.

****Session 45:****

“Mom finds us attractive, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

I loved it when my sister’s moan penetrated her monotone.

“Would you believe me if I told you she was too shy to act on it?”

“Yes.”

“What if I told you that her deepest desire was for you to initiate sexual contact with her?”

“I would believe you.”

****Session A129:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy pulls your head to her pussy.”

Shake. Fair enough. With Lucy, it was easy to jump right to the end.

Mom required things at a slightly different pace.

“Hypothetical: Lucy brushes her hand against your breast, trying to make it seem accidental.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.”

Nod.

I slowly woke her up.

****Session A133:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy grabs your boob. What do you do?”

“Nothing.”

“You think about it the next time you get off.”

Nod.

****Session A136:****

“Hypothetical: You’re sitting on the couch. Lucy sits beside you and puts a hand on your boob. What do you do?”

“Nothing.”

“The feeling of your daughter’s hand on your breast is the most erotic feeling in the world.”

Nod.

****Session A140:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy starts sucking on your nipple at breakfast. What do you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Knowing that the last time she did that, she was breastfeeding - it’s sick.”

Nod.

“It’s wrong.”

Nod.

“It instantly makes you soaking wet.”

Nod.

****Session A146:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy starts making out with you. What do you do?”

“Nothing.”

“If you do nothing, she might be displeased. She might want to tell you how you can do better. That would be talking about sex, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If you do nothing, she’ll talk to you about sex.”

Nod.

“If you return the kiss, she’ll be satisfied, and you won’t have to discuss sex with your daughter.”

Nod.

“You can’t talk to your kids about sex. If Lucy starts making out with you, the only way to avoid it is to return the kiss.”

Nod.

“Hypothetical: Lucy starts making out with you. What do you do?”

Silence. After a beat, I realized what I’d done; tried to discuss sex with my mother.

“Hypothetical: Lucy starts making out with you. You return the kiss.”

Nod.

“Passionately.”

Nod.

“You are on the verge of orgasm the entire time.”

Nod.

I slowly woke her up.

****Session A158:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy pulls your head to her pussy. You start enthusiastically performing cunnilingus.”

Nod.

“It’s even hotter than you imagined it would be.”

Nod.

****Session A161:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy reaches down your panties, and starts fingering your pussy. You moan loudly and enthusiastically, to show how into it you are.”

Nod.

“You don’t have to fake it, not even a little.”

Nod.

****Session A163:****

“Hypothetical: Your son touches your boob.”

Shake.

Damn it. My own passivity in our little shows had worked against me.

Unless... 

“New hypothetical: Lucy places my hands on your boob.”

Nod.

“Your perverted side wants your son to do so much more.”

Nod.

“You cum at the feeling of his hand touching your nipple.”

Nod.

I smiled, and woke her up.

****Session A168:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy guides my cock between your tits. You push them together, and silently plead for me to fuck your tits.”

Nod.

“The next time you’re playing with yourself, you’re remembering the feeling of my cock between your tits.”

Nod.

****Session A172:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy isn’t home.”

Nod.

“I’ve been fucking your tits for weeks, always being guided by Lucy.”

Nod.

“You can tell that I’m horny. You recognize the signs.”

Nod.

“I see your big, beautiful tits, just begging for me to take them.”

Nod.

“I lower my underpants...”

Nod.

“ ... and begin fucking your tits.”

Nod.

“You enthusiastically use your hands.”

Nod.

“Until I cum onto your face.”

Nod.

“My orgasm triggers your own.”

Nod.

“You cum when I cum.”

Nod.

“You always cum at the sight of your son’s orgasm.”

Nod.

“You always cum when your son does.”

Nod.

****Session A178:****

“Hypothetical: Lucy isn’t home.”

Nod.

“She’s been guiding my cock into your mouth for weeks.”

Nod.

“You can tell I’m horny.”

Nod.

“I lower my pants, and move my cock to your lips.”

Nod.

“They part obediently, and you stick your tongue out for me.”

Nod.

“You make your mouth a warm, wonderful tunnel for me to fuck.”

Nod.

“I slide my cock between your lips.”

Nod.

“And I fuck your mouth until I cum.”

Nod.

“You cum when I cum.”

Nod.

“You cum as you’re swallowing your own son’s seed.”

Nod.

“You’re a cocksucking slut of a mother.”

Nod.

“It turns you on.”

Nod.

“Your inner perversions are showing.”

Nod.

“It feels freeing.”

Nod.

“You can still never talk about it.”

Nod.

“But there’s something deeply satisfying about being such a whore.”

Nod.

I smiled. This was normally where I’d wake my mother up. This was normally where I’d slowly wake her up, locking in the hypothetical.

But I’d been doing this for almost two hours, my dick rock hard almost the entire time.

I figured I deserved a treat.

Mom didn’t say a word as I unzipped my pants. She didn’t say anything as I pulled my erection out.

Her eyes - still blank - widened slightly as I moved my hardness towards her face, but she didn’t move, and she didn’t say a word.

As my cock approached her mouth, her lips parted, and her tongue reached out to taste my head.


	Chapter 33

After I came in Mom’s mouth, I woke her up.

Then, I came in her mouth again.

It was everything I’d dreamed of. Lucy’s blowjobs were different - they were more slavish; she used every part of her body to serve as she fellated me: her hand, stroking my shaft; her tongue, swirling around my head; her shoulders pushed back, to emphasize her tits.

Mom was, weird though it sounds, much more ... inexperienced? I had no idea how many guys she’d blown, and I suspected I’d never know.

The pleasure of Mom giving head came from the stunned way she approached it.

It was so hot, feeling my cock enter her warm and ready mouth, her eyes looking up at me as if she truly couldn’t believe this was happening. She was topless, but - unlike my sister - she didn’t use her body to show off her boobs. If anything, it was like she was subtly trying to hide them, like she knew she **couldn’t** hide her tits from me, yet still didn’t want to show them off.

Her mouth moved slowly, like she was about to wake up from a dream at any moment. Her tongue was tentative; it didn’t run around my cock, but rested at the bottom of her mouth, occasionally lapping the underside of my shaft.

And her hands weren’t used to jerk me off, but to grab my legs, to steady herself.

The greatest moment was when I came, and - for the first time - saw my Mom cumming too.

Her eyes fluttered, threatening to roll back in her head, but never lost eye contact. She stared at me as she swallowed my seed - her own son’s seed - and then blushed a furious red as she uncontrollably reached her own orgasm.

It was perfect. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of.

I wanted to do it again, and again, and again.

And the best thing was ... I could.

****Session 45:****

“You will initiate sexual contact with Mom, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she wants me to.”

“Any other reasons?”

“Because I want to.”

“Any other reason?”

There was a pause. I could tell Lucy was concerned about displeasing me.

No, not concerned.

Scared.

That turned me on more than I wanted to admit.

“You will initiate sexual contact with Mom because I want you to.”

Nod.

“My wants are more important than yours.”

Nod.

“My wants are more important than Mom’s.”

Nod.

“My wants are all that matters, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because pleasing you turns me on.”

“Any other reason?”

“Because ... I don’t want to displease you.”

I smiled.

****Session C23:****

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”

“Marcie.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was taking her.”

“How?”

“I was on top of her.”

“While she slept?”

“No.”

“So she was awake?”

“Yes.”

“Was she enjoying it?”

“Yes.”

“Was she happy?”

“Yes.”

“Were you happy?”

“ ... yes.”

****Session C25:****

“If someone is dreaming of a happier life, should you wake them up or let them sleep?”

“That’s a classic moral dilemma,” Richard began, but I interrupted. I’d learned not to let him dwell on the theoretical, else he’d never reach a conclusion.

“What do **you** think one should do?”

There was a long pause as he considered the options. I was starting to get used to this.

Hypnotizing Mom or Lucy had always been more fun. I’m a straight guy, so seeing a busty woman glassy-eyed is much more interesting than a 45-year old male professor.

Since my family members had stopped wearing clothes, even in the longest pause I had something **very** pleasurable to look at.

Richard, by comparison, was the proverbial drying paint. But I remembered why I was doing this, and struggled through.

“I’d let them sleep,” he finally answered.

I breathed a sigh of relief. He’d landed on the side of the dilemma I’d been hoping for.

If I’d done my research right, this was going to make things a whole lot easier.

****Session 45:****

“You’re going to fuck Mom.”

Nod.

“You’re going to fuck her for my pleasure.”

Nod.

“My pleasure is more important than yours.”

Nod.

“My pleasure is more important than anything.”

Nod.

“What’s the most sexual thing you’d do with Mom?”

“I’d fuck her in the ass with a huge strap-on,” Lucy replied without hesitation.

Wow. Apparently she’d thought this through. Before I could reply, she continued.

“I’d tie her up and fill all her holes. I’d film her being completely subjugated. If you told me to, I’d share it with the world.”

“That’s enough,” I said. I had no idea where any of that had come from.

It always surprised me when Lucy’s imagination was, somehow, even **darker** than my own.

****Session C25:****

“Why would you let them sleep?”

“Because it harms no one, and they’d be happier.”

“Do you think society agrees with you?”

“That’s a complicated question,” Richard began. Again, I cut him off.

“If you had to boil it down to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer?”

“No,” he said, after a long pause.

“So,” I asked cautiously, “you are okay with doing things that society doesn’t agree with.”

“Of course,” he answered. “Everyone is.”

“Specifically,” I continued, “you’re okay with doing things that society doesn’t agree with ... if they result in net happiness, and don’t harm anyone.”

He took a deep breath, and I jumped in before he could begin to pontificate.

“Yes or no?”

Again, there was a long pause.

“Yes.”

****Session 45:**** I couldn’t help myself.

“What’s,” I asked my sister, “the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

“I’d ... I’d...”

I watched my sister for a few moments. For the first time in a long while, I was actually concerned for her. She seemed to be spluttering slightly, as though she wanted to list a thousand things at once and didn’t have the mouth-space to do so.

“Never mind,” I said, and waited for her to calm down.

When I felt like she was sufficiently relaxed, I continued.

“What would you do if you found me getting head from Mom?”

“I’d make sure not to interrupt.”

“Would you be offended or jealous?”

“No.”

“How would you feel?”

“Turned on.”

“What would you do if you found me fucking Mom?”

“I’d make sure not to interrupt.”

“How would you feel?”

“Turned on. Awed. Submissive.”

“Do you want me to fuck Mom?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“More than anything.”

****Session C25:****

“If something gave you pleasure, and gave someone else pleasure, and caused no harm, would you see that as morally right?”

“Yes,” Richard answered, without hesitation.

“What if society thought it was morally wrong?”

“Even then.”

I took a deep breath.

This was the moment.

“Richard,” I said slowly. “Do you think it would be morally wrong to fuck your daughter?”

****Session B58:****

Lucy had managed to get us an hour alone with Marcie. Ever since her mother had left, her father had been much more relaxed about our visits. Honestly, I think it was the only time that he got a break.

He knew. He must know, right?

If your daughter cums just from putting a spoon in her mouth, you must know that leaving a teenage boy alone with her is going to ... Well, not alone. I suppose he saw me **and** Lucy coming in, and figured it was safe.

After all, who’s going to do anything sexual while their sister is in the room?

****Session C26:****

He didn’t answer.

I waited more than ten minutes - it was clear that he wasn’t going to wake up. I thought he was thinking it over, but after a while, it became clear that he simply ... wasn’t answering.

Lucy was in the other room. Richard hadn’t questioned what they did in there; as far as he was concerned, any visitor for his daughter was better than her sitting alone in a room, staring dead-eyed at the wall.

“Richard? Richard, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it would be morally wrong to fuck your daughter?”

Again, nothing but silence.

It had been surprisingly easy to talk Richard into hypnosis. The first time I put him under, I’d made sure that he didn’t suspect hypnosis had anything to do with his daughter’s condition.

He didn’t.

We came over about once a week. I’d hypnotize Richard, Lucy would fuck Marcie in the other room.

“Hypothetical.”

He nodded.

“Someone’s daughter is in a catatonic state. She only responds positively to sexual stimulus.”

Nod. I’d learned pretty early on that Richard was much more receptive to ten-dollar words.

Professor.

“He is sexually attracted to her.”

Nod.

“He has no other sexual outlet, and sexual contact with her would do her no harm.”

Nod.

“Do you believe it would be morally wrong for him to have sexual contact with her?”

Again, silence. The faint tone of my sister’s orgasm could be heard from the adjacent room.

That wasn’t my idea, I should say. No, Lucy insisted on having sex with Marcie every time we visited. She insisted that it helped.

It was hard to argue that it didn’t.

“Okay,” I said, after the pause had stretched on long enough for Lucy to cum several times. “New hypothetical.”

I wasn’t really sure what to make of these pauses.

“Someone’s daughter is in a catatonic state, and she only responds positively to live music.”

Nod.

“Her father cannot afford an instrument. Is it morally wrong for him to steal one?”

“No.”

Zero hesitation.

“He can’t play any instruments. Is it morally wrong for him to kidnap a musician?”

“Yes.”

“Is it morally wrong for him to steal money to **pay** for a musician?”

“No.”

I sighed.

Sometimes, when I hit a wall, I’d leave Richard under for a while and go join Lucy and Marcie. It was sort of helpful, in a weird way. Like, yes, I was being flagrantly reminded of what I’d done (and to who), but ... well, watching my sister and her best friend make out over my cock ... I’m sure I don’t have to explain why **that** felt good.

I’d come back, and almost always hit some kind of breakthrough. Clears the head, y’know?

Today, I didn’t want to stop. I was close. I could feel it.

“New hypothetical: a man’s daughter is in a catatonic state, and she only responds positively to massage.”

Nod.

“Is it morally wrong for him to massage his daughter?”

“No.”

“If he’s attracted to her, is it morally wrong for him to get pleasure from the massage?”

“ ... no.”

It was a small step, but it was in the right direction.

“New hypothetical: your daughter is in a catatonic state, and she only responds to sexual stimulus.”

Nod.

“You’re attracted to her.”

Nod.

“If you fuck her, she’ll get pleasure from it and you’ll get pleasure from it.”

Nod.

“No one will be harmed, as long as you’re careful not to get caught.”

Nod.

“You fuck her.”

Pause.

Pause.

Pause.

Nod.

****Session 45:****

“If I needed your help to fuck Mom, what would you do?”

“Anything.”

“If I needed to fuck you in order to fuck Mom, would you do it?”

“I ... I...”

For the first time in a long time, I was surprised by the sight of my sister gradually waking up, blinking slowly as she looked around.

“What were we talking about?” she asked, no trace of a monotone.

I just smiled.

Interesting.

****Session C26:****

Believe me when I say, this wasn’t my first idea.

Just because I’m into incest doesn’t mean I think everyone is, or even should be.

But I’d spent weeks trying different thing, trying to fix Marcie.

After days of research, and hours of trying to put her under, I’d finally accepted it ... Marcie was gone.

Marcie was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

When I was a kid, I’d had a pet hamster. “Radish”, I’d called him. (Like, “sort of rad”. It was a pretty decent pun for a kid.) I won’t go into the why or how, but after a trip to visit my classroom, poor Radish had been stepped on. I’d begged and pleaded with Mom to let me keep him, to look after him like I used to, but she’d told me that I couldn’t, that he was suffering, and that the kindest thing we could do for him was end that suffering.

Maybe Marcie was suffering, maybe she wasn’t, but if I knew **anything** , I knew that she was happiest when she was being sexually stimulated.

Her entire self would light up. It was the only way to even get a glimpse of the old Marcie, before ... Before I’d taken her to the classroom and she’d been stepped on.

I couldn’t bring her back to the person she was before, but I could reduce her suffering.

And even if I wasn’t sure about Marcie, I **knew** her father was unhappy. It was obvious from the way he moved, the way he spoke.

I couldn’t bring his daughter back ... but I could at least make his relationship with her a positive one.

“You feel guilty about fucking her.”

Nod.

I could get him to start taking care of her needs (and everyone knew that **she’d** take care of **his** ).

Now all I needed to do was prevent him from feeling guilty about it.

* * *

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	Chapter 34

As soon as she got home each day, Mom would strip down to her panties.

That was just the beginning.

Lucy would often be waiting at the door for our mother. She’d throw her against the wall and passionately make out with her.

Mom would reciprocate, of course - if she didn’t, she’d risk talking about sex, and she could **never** do that. No, far better to make out with her teenage daughter than risk revealing what an absolute pervert she was.

I’d sometimes stand there and watch as my busty family members kissed, their hands roaming around each other’s bodies. Lucy would reach down to find Mom soaking wet; she’d push her panties to the side, and finger fuck her right there in the hallway.

There are few hotter sights than your mother’s knees buckling as she cums around your sister’s hand.

Dazed, Mom would often be dragged into the living-room. Lucy would push her down onto the couch, grab her long hair, and force her mouth to my cock. As my mother fellated me, that stunned look on her face, Lucy would spread Mom’s legs and go down on her.

I could see Mom’s eyes, silently pleading. Was she pleading for us to stop, or was she pleading for more?

I would never know, because she’d never talk about it.

Mom came almost as easily as Lucy - she’d get off several times by her own daughter’s tongue, and then again as I unloaded down her throat. It was so hot, knowing that these images, these sensations, these experiences would be running through Mom’s head on loop all night and all day ... until the events of the next evening replaced them.

She was starting to become more lust than woman.

Sometimes Mom would sit back and watch as it was Lucy’s turn to get me off. Lucy would pinch her nipples and beg me to treat her like the filthy slut we both knew she was.

Mom would never play with herself, though I knew she wanted to. Her fingers would twitch, as though all she wanted was to reach down and stroke her clit, get herself off again.

If I wasn’t in the mood, Lucy would instead bring out some toys, and spend the evening using them on our mother. I lost track of the number of times I’d watched Lucy fuck Mom with a huge strap-on, or handcuff her to the furniture as she used nipple clamps and a particularly strong vibrator.

Mom would twitch in orgasm, cumming and cumming again, never able to articulate her desires. Lucy and I would use our mother as a pliable sex-toy until it was time for bed, when we’d finally give her a break, and let her go into her room to get herself off once or twice before bed.

On mornings when I woke up early enough, I’d make my way into Mom’s room and stick my erection into her sleeping mouth. She’d wake up, wide-eyed, and began fellating me.

Her morning blowjobs were always the most enthusiastic. I was never able to work out why.

Sometimes I’d come in to find my sister had beaten me to it - I’d stand in the doorway and watch as Mom grasped my sister’s perfect ass, her tongue deep inside Lucy’s wet cunt, the two of them writhing in pleasure, oblivious to my presence.

Mom was ours; a completely obedient, submissive toy, existing only for her children’s pleasure. Every moment she was at home, she was almost-naked, sweaty, and available for our use.

She was nothing more than a piece of property.

And since Lucy was mine as well, that meant they both were.

My life was insanely close to perfect ... and I knew exactly how to get it the rest of the way.

****Session C27:****

“When did you last cum?”

“Seven weeks ago.”

I didn’t even have to lead into it with a hypothetical this time. Maybe Richard had inferred the survey, the lead-up questions ... or maybe he was just so worked up, he **wanted** to share how long it had been.

****Session 46:****

“Have you enjoyed the last week?”

“ **Yes.** “

Even through my sister’s monotone, the strength of her response was obvious.

“What would make it even better?”

“If you fucked our mother.”

“What else?”

“If you fucked me.”

I smiled. Perfect.

“Aside from letting me fuck you, is there anything you would refuse me?”

“No.”

“If I told you to do something, even if it was incredibly difficult, would you do it?”

“Yes.”

“If you weren’t able to, would you lie to me?”

“No. I would never lie to you.”

“Good girl,” I said, and woke her up.

****Session 47:****

“Have you enjoyed the last week?”

“ **Yes.** “

“What would make it even better?”

“If I could cum.”

After waking my sister up, I’d given her some clear instructions. I’d told her that I was jealous that our mother got to fuck her, but I didn’t. I told her that I wanted nothing more than to cum inside her, but that I wasn’t going to order her to fuck me.

That would be wrong.

She looked devastated, but ... well, after seeing our mother sobbingly think that the ‘burglar’ incident was her fault, this was nothing. I stayed strong, and after a few minutes, my sister just nodded.

And then I’d told her - until I fucked either her or our mother, I wasn’t going to cum.

She looked horrified.

That’s when I dropped the bombshell: until I came, she couldn’t either.

My sister, as I’ve mentioned, cums **really** easily. Like, it’s great. It’s truly delightful - you stick a cock anywhere near her, and she’s halfway there. You rub her clit (or, depending on how worked up she is, just her nipples) and she goes off like a firecracker.

She always was verging on ‘goddess of sex’; and this fun feature absolutely tipped her over the edge.

To her credit, she’d obeyed.

In the six and a half days since I’d ordered her not to cum, she - to the best of my knowledge - had abstained.

It’s not like we hadn’t been doing anything sexual, either. I’d spent half the week with my cock down her throat, or my fingers in her pussy, or lightly jacking off while watching her work out her frustration on Mom’s enormous tits. The three of us had been fooling around just as we had the week before, but with one key difference: Lucy had neither cum nor made me cum.

The plan, of course, was to get her so worked up that she would **beg** me to fuck her, or to fuck Mom. I wanted her to be climbing the walls with frustration - I’d given her a taste of heaven, and then taken it away from her.

And again, to her credit ... so far, she’d resisted.

Admiring someone’s moral strength might seem a little strange, considering it was the only thing standing between my cock and my sister’s wet pussy, but ... well, it was hard not to be impressed.

I firmly believe that my sister was **born** to be a slut. Her body, her hair-trigger orgasm, her insatiable submission ... it had been a lot of work (and I mean a **lot** of work) to get her here, but once she’d entered the realm of full-time sister-slut, she’d taken to it like a fish to water.

She’d never once complained of having a sore jaw, or needing a break, or ‘having a headache’. Once she’d started being my on-demand sexual toy, she’d been the best slut a brother could ask for.

Except, of course ... that she wouldn’t let me fuck her.

“Hypothetical,” I said. “I ask you if you have any requests.”

Nod.

“What do you ask for?”

“I ask if I can cum.”

“How do you ask?”

“Please,” my sister begged. “Please please please please please please please.”

“‘I tell you ‘no’. What do you say?”

“ **Please**...”

“I say no, not until I do. What do you say?”

“Oh god, please. I’ll do anything!”

I smiled.

“Would you let me fuck you?”

There was a hopeful pause, followed by a confident “No.”

God damn it, Lucy.

I knew how hard it had been for her. She’d asked me to tie her to the bedpost as she slept, just so that she wouldn’t accidentally touch herself overnight and disobey me.

I’d obliged, of course. I’d do most anything for my sister.

That, and it made it **far** easier to sneak into my mother’s room and fuck her.

****Session A183:****

“You’re just a sex toy for your children.”

Nod.

“Every day and every night, they use you however they please.”

Nod.

“It’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced.”

Nod.

“You love your life.”

Nod.

“You love being a full-time fucktoy.”

Nod.

“You’d do anything your children wanted you to.”

Nod.

“If your son wanted to fuck you, you’d let him.”

Nod.

My mouth was open, ready for the next statement, but Mom’s response gave me pause.

Wait. Was ... was it that easy?

“If your son wanted to spread your legs, right now, and slide his cock into you, you’d let him.”

Nod.

“You’d enjoy the experience.”

Nod.

“You’d get off as he did.”

Nod.

“Hypothetical: your son comes into your room while you’re sleeping.”

Nod.

“Instead of sticking his cock into your mouth, he sticks it into your pussy.”

Nod.

“You love it.”

Nod.

My mouth fell open and I sat back, my head spinning.

I ... I’d grown so accustomed to my sister’s resistance, I hadn’t even considered where my mother was at.

As far as she was concerned, Lucy and I had fucked. She found it hot - the hottest thing she’d ever heard of.

We’d been using her for our pleasure for a little over a week now, and she hadn’t objected to anything - she had no limits.

No limits.

Unlike Lucy, she didn’t have this weird dichotomy of ‘incest’ vs ‘not incest’. As far as she was concerned, it was **all** incest ... And that was why she loved it.

For the first time since I’d started hypnotizing my family, my mother was actually giving me **less** resistance than my sister.

To be safe, I spent twenty minutes running through different scenarios. I checked that it wouldn’t cause her to freak out, or break like Marcie had, or feel the need to suddenly tell Lucy.

Nope. As far as my mother was concerned, fucking her was just a part of the fucked-up world she was already living in.

It took me about a minute to realize that I was still staring at my mother, instead of doing what I’d dreamed of doing for years.

“Spread your legs,” I breathlessly commanded.

She obeyed.

“Make sure you’re nice and wet for me,” I whispered.

She obeyed.

“Grab...”

I swallowed. My throat was suddenly incredibly dry.

“Grab ... grab my cock.”

My mother obeyed.

“Move it between your legs.”

She obeyed.

I leaned forward. My mouth was inches from my mother’s.

I kissed her.

She kissed me back.

“Move your panties aside,” I rasped.

She obeyed.

“Move...”

I stared into my mother’s blank eyes.

Was I really going to do this?

“Move me inside of you,” I ordered softly.

She obeyed.

****Session 47:****

It wasn’t easy, timing trysts with my mother to avoid getting caught. It got a whole lot easier when Lucy asked me to start tying her to the bed at night - suddenly, I had eight or more hours in which I could fuck my mother, as loudly and enthusiastically as I wanted.

It.

Was.

Amazing.

I’d thought fucking Marcie was nice. Well, no, fucking Marcie **was** nice.

Fucking Mom?

Fucking Ma was **heavenly**.

No matter what Lucy and I had done to our mother, she’d remained mostly silent. When my cock was pounding in and out of her, it was a whole other world. The moans, pants, and sometimes **squeaks** that came out of my sexy mother ... jesus helling fuck. The sounds alone would have been enough to get me off.

Combined with the warmth, the rhythmic tightening, the feeling of her dark thatch of hair ... I’d spent **years** jerking off to the idea of it, and it still managed to exceed my every expectation.

She seemed to cum with almost every thrust, and when I unloaded inside of her ... I had to forbid Lucy from going down on my Mom of a morning, to ensure she didn’t recognize the taste. After cumming inside my mother, I’d fall asleep on her ample bosom, and often wake up in the middle of the night to discover I was inside her again. Was it Mom, slipping me inside her as we slept, or was my subconscious aware of the golden opportunity in front of me, and ensuring that I took advantage?

Maybe Mom knew, but she certainly wasn’t going to talk about it.

Unloading into my mother several times a night made not cumming while Lucy expertly fellated me much, much easier. And so while Lucy was climbing the wall with frustration, I ... I can honestly say, I was the most sexually satisfied I’d ever been in my life.

Still, I had to admit, I’d missed the feeling of cumming down my sister’s throat.

“Blow me,” I ordered with a grin. My smile broadened at the speed with which my entranced sister dropped to her knees and got me off.

As I came inside her mouth, I could see her twitching, wanting nothing more than to reach her own orgasm.

“Sit up,” I ordered. She leaned in to kiss me (unusual, while she was tranced - I can only assume it was due to her extreme arousal) but I pushed her away.

Some guys think it’s hot, making out with a girl who’s just swallowed their cum, but I’m not really into it.

Maybe if she was sharing it with Marcie ... or Mom. That was something I could get behind.

“Not now, Luce.” I said, running my hands down her naked body. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

She just moaned in response as I slipped two fingers into her slick pussy. It was always wet, these days, and I was knuckle-deep almost instantly.

“Now,” I said, enjoying her short yelp as I spanked her. “You want this to continue, don’t you?”

Lucy nodded. Her whole body twitched slightly, and as I moved my fingers in and out, she shuddered with delight.

“You want me to fuck you, won’t you Lucy?”

She nodded, twitched, and shuddered.

“This can only continue if I fuck you, can’t it?”

She nodded. I could feel her sopping wet cunt spasming around my fingers.

“You’ll want me to fuck you, don’t you Lucy?”

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

“You want to feel my cock inside you, don’t you?”

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

“Do you play with yourself at night imagining me fucking you?”

Nod. Shudder.

“Are you looking forward to me cumming inside you?”

Nod. Twitch. Shudder.

“What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?”

Twitch. Twitch. Shudder.

No nod ... but no resistance, either.

I pushed my luck, sliding my fingers in and out of my sister as I did.

“Lucy? What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?”

To my horror, a series of short pants and moans were the only response. My sister came, her tits bouncing and her cunt clenching repeatedly around my fingers.

God **damn** it, Lucy.

****Session A184:****

“You love fucking your son.”

Nod.

“It’s the single most satisfying thing you’ve ever done.”

Nod.

“It’s made you feel complete.”

Nod.

“It’s made you feel more like a woman than you ever have before.”

Nod.

“You love it.”

Nod.

“You love it more than anything.”

Nod.

“It’s the best thing you’ve ever done.”

Nod.

I don’t know that Mom would normally have agreed to that, but with my cock pounding in and out of her, she was likely struggling to think of anything that topped the feeling.

“You feel complete.”

Nod.

“Fucking your son completes you.”

Nod.

“If fucking your son completes you, it must be why you exist.”

This one did give her slight pause, but as soon as I slowed down, she nodded.

Basic Pavlovian conditioning. Fuck her harder when she says something I like, slow down when she hesitates.

“You exist to fuck your son.”

Nod.

“You exist for your son to fuck you.”

Nod.

“Your purpose in life is to be fucked by your son.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

To my surprise, my mother obeyed.

“My ... purpose ... in ... life ... is ... to ... be ... fucked ... by ... my ... son.”

I groaned with pleasure.

I had achieved everything I wanted to with my mother. This? This was just for fun.

“You will always cum when your son does.”

Nod.

My eyes rolled back in my head as I unloaded inside my mother. Nothing had ever felt this good.

I couldn’t wait to see how my sister compared.

****Session 48:****

“Have you enjoyed the last two weeks?”

“Yes.”

This time, there was a slight hesitance to my sister’s voice.

Good.

“What would make it even better?”

“If I could **cum**.”

The attitude in my sister’s voice broke through the monotone. I hadn’t heard her this whiney since we were kids, and Mom had refused to buy her the Lego set she’d wanted.

“You want to cum?”

“ **Yes**. Please, yes.”

After our last session, I’d woken my sister up and hoped that she wouldn’t remember cumming.

Consciously, I don’t think she did, but ... well, her entire vibe was completely different. Before I’d put her under, she’d been highly-strung. On edge.

After waking her up, she was much calmer, much more relaxed.

And so, with a sigh, I’d repeated the order - she couldn’t cum until I did - and emphasized that I was **not** to be disobeyed.

This time, I’d waited two weeks. After all, with my mother’s hungry pussy at my beck and call, I was in no rush.

By the end of the second week, my sister was **worked up**. She wanted to be submissive and obedient, I could tell ... but instead, she was tense. Irate.

Snappy.

She wanted to cum. She wanted to cum more than anything ... I hoped.

I’d feigned frustration, trying to ensure that it wasn’t too obvious what Mom and I were up to. My sister, as far as I could tell, had believed me.

Still, no harm in checking.

“Do you think I’ve cum in the last three weeks?”

“No.”

“Why do you think I’m so much less worked up than you are?”

“Because you’re better than I am.”

“Oh?”

My sister didn’t respond. Even in her relaxed trance state, I could still feel her frustration.

“How so?”

“You are more in control than I am.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re...”

She hesitated. I sighed.

“Spit it out.”

“You’re a sexual god.”

Couldn’t help but smile at that one.

“What would you do in order to cum?”

“ **Anything** ,” my sister said, emphasizing all three syllables.

“Will you obey my every command?”

“Yes.”

It was time.

I had to be careful, but it was time.

“Hypothetical. I hypnotize you.”

Nod.

“Neither of us have cum in three weeks.”

Nod.

“You tell me you’ll do anything if I let you cum.”

Nod.

“I tell you to let me fuck you.”

Shake.

**Fuck.**

“I tell you to tell me to fuck Mom.”

Shake.

“You know that I won’t let either of us cum until I fuck you or Mom.”

Nod.

“You want me to fuck you or Mom.”

Nod.

So ... why?

**Why?** God fucking damn it, Lucy, **WHY**??

I took a deep breath. Now we were **both** frustrated.

“Why,” I said slowly, trying to remain calm, “won’t you tell me to fuck Mom.”

“Because it would be selfish.”

I took another deep breath.

“What does that mean?”

“If you fucked Mom, that would be incest. That would be wrong.”

“But you want me to.”

“Yes.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I can’t make you and Mom do something wrong for my own benefit. That would be selfish.”

“But...”

Yet another deep, calming breath.

“But you know I want to as well.”

“Yes. But I can’t make you do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be wrong.”

I threw my hands up in the air. I was on the verge of waking Lucy up, telling her I was fucking Mom, and that she could either get onboard or she could fuck off.

Our mother was, after all, serving my every sexual need. Lucy, despite my best efforts, was **not**. What did I need her for? I had Mom. I could ... I shut my eyes and slowly counted to thirty. When I reopened them, I saw my sister - my sexy, hypnotized, naked, obedient, submissive sister sitting in front of me. Her blonde hair was down. It ran down her back - she’d positioned it that way so it wouldn’t block my view of her perfect tits.

She loved me. She would do **anything** for me.

Almost.

For the fourth time that night, I took a long, deep breath.

She just wanted what was best for me. I couldn’t get mad at her for that.

It was the last limit. I’d been dancing around it for months. Months which felt like years.

If I could get through this limit, that was it. I’d have everything. Everything I’d ever, ever wanted.

I’d managed to move every other limit. It had taken time, effort, and - above all - patience, but they’d all been moved.

I could move this one as well. I knew it.

****Session 43:****

“What would really show you how powerful I am?”

“If...”

There was a long pause, as Lucy mustered up the courage to answer.

“If you fucked me.”

****Session B124:****

“Marcie,” I said softly. “Marcie, can you hear me?”

No response.

“Marcie, next time we come into the room, I want you to take your top off.”

Marcie stood up, and began taking her top off. I rolled my eyes, and gestured for my sister to redress her friend.

Lucy hadn’t cum for nearly 17 days, and just the sight of Marcie’s perky tits coming into view was causing her to go glassy-eyed.

“Don’t cum,” I said softly, and Lucy nodded obediently.

To my surprise, Marcie’s selective hearing came into play once more, and the girl who had taken my virginity wailed in orgasm.

Fortunately, her father was deep in trance, repeating instructions in the next room.

****Session 43:****

“If I fucked Mom, would you fuck me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d be so powerful.”

“So?”

“So you’d be too powerful to resist.”

****Session 48:****

“Committing incest is wrong, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If I made Mom commit incest, that would show you exactly how powerful I was, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“If I made you commit incest, that would show you exactly how powerful I was.”

“Yes.”

“How could I make you commit incest?”

“You could hypnotize me into doing it.”

“How could I make Mom commit incest?”

“You could hypnotize her into doing it.”

“If I hypnotized you or Mom into committing incest, you’d believe I was all-powerful, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

I paused. Lucy’s breathing had gotten faster, just at the thought of my power. I didn’t want to do anything that would push her over the edge and risk making her cum.

After her breathing slowed, I continue.

“If I hypnotized someone into committing incest, would you be able to resist me?”

“No.”

“You’d have to do whatever I said, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you would have complete control of me.”

“Do I have complete control of me now?”

“Almost.”

“How could I get complete control of you?”

“By showing me how powerful you are.”

Lucy has had boyfriends before. No one particularly notable, but she’s dated in the past.

I wonder how much of this weird obsession with ‘power’ is something that I inadvertently implanted, and how much of it is just ... her?

Did she have her boyfriends start fights, to show off for her? Did she have them dominate her?

If I’d asked her, she’d definitely tell me, but ... I don’t think I wanted to know.

“If you saw me make someone commit incest, you’d let me fuck you.”

Nod.

“Hypothetical: I hypnotize you.”

Nod. We’d been down this road before, but there was no harm in checking.

“While you’re under, I make you fuck me.”

Shake.

“New hypothetical: I hypnotize Mom.”

Nod.

“While she’s under, I make her fuck me.”

Shake.

“Why don’t you believe that would happen?”

I was asking more out of frustration than anything, but my sister still answered.

“Because it would be selfish.”

“You don’t believe I would do something selfish?”

“Not that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be wrong.”

My eyes widened, and I sat up straight.

I had an idea.

****Session B125:****

“Take your skirt off.”

Marcie obeyed. She stood in front of us, naked.

Her shirt was already off.

Hypnosis isn’t like it is in the movies. You can’t just give someone a command, and have them carry it out. ‘Cluck like a chicken when you hear the number five’ - stuff like that, it doesn’t work.

You can learn more about someone, you can subtly shift their world-view, their morals, their limits. You can affect their dreams, and you can alter their memories.

But I couldn’t just say ‘Hey, Lucy, every time you hear a dog bark, you’re going to come into my room and suck me off.’ I mean ... I probably **could** , but she wouldn’t obey because she was hypnotized. She’d obey because she’d take any excuse to come into my room and suck me off.

In Marcie’s new state, however ... none of the rules applied.

Last time we’d visited, I’d told her to take off her top when we entered. Sure enough, as soon as Lucy and I had walked in, she’d stripped.

Thank god we’d entered the room alone.

****Session 48:****

“Hypnosis turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because when I’m hynotized, I give up control.”

“Why do you like giving up control?”

“Because it turns me on.”

“Why does it turn you on?”

Lucy reflected on that one for a while.

“I like being dominated. I like being under the thrall of someone more powerful than me. I like giving myself over to someone else.”

“Why do you like visiting Marcie?”

“I think it’s good for her.”

That was very sweet, but not the answer I was looking for.

“Does it turn you on?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It reminds me of how strong your will is. The fact that you broke her, it...”

Lucy’s monotone quivered slightly.

“It’s so hot.”

“What would you think if I broke Mom like that?”

“I’d be horrified.”

“Would you be turned on?”

“Yes.”

I had no plans to break Mom. I had no plans to break anyone, ever again. It ate me up inside, seeing what I’d turned Marcie into.

She’d once told me she wanted to be a vet. She wanted to make the world a better place, help sick and wounded animals. Heal them. Make them better.

Now, she was going to spend the rest of her life ... I sighed.

I’d do anything to avoid that happening again.

And I was going to do what I could to help Marcie. To help my sister’s friend.

... to help **my** friend.

****Session C28:****

“What did you dream about last night?”

“Marcie.”

“What about Marcie?”

“I dreamt that she was back to normal.”

A hint of a smile broke through Richard’s blank stare. I sort of wanted to hug him.

Instead, I pressed on.

“Did anything else happen in the dream?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because of her,” Richard said, gesturing to my sister.


	Chapter 35

**Session 48:**

“What do you know about Marcie’s father?”

“He’s a professor. Spends a lot of time in his study. Looks sad, most of the time.”

“Has Marcie ever spoken much about him?”

“Yeah. She was pissed when he wouldn’t let her come to Spring Break.”

“Why do you think he wouldn’t let her?”

“I think he was just looking out for her.”

“Do you think he’s a good father?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Marcie told me. Not in those exact words, but I always got the sense he was a good guy.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, he’s looked after her ever since ... you know.”

Lucy shivered with arousal, and I smiled.

I didn’t like what I’d done to Marcie, but I liked the effect it’d had on my sister. As far as she’d concerned, I’d broken Marcie just to demonstrate that I could ... and it **really** turned her on.

“Do you think he’s attracted to his daughter?”

“No.

“Not even a little?”

“Not even a little.”

“Do you think he’s ever been inappropriate towards her?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Marcie would have told me. Also, he’s never even checked me out.”

“So?”

“So if he was interested in people his daughter’s age, he would have.”

I nodded. My sister’s healthy ego at work, folks.

Not that she was wrong.

“So can you think of anything at all to suggest that he’s a bad father?”

“No.”

“Can you think of anything that indicates he wants to fuck his daughter?”

“No.”

“How would you react if I told you that he did?”

“I wouldn’t believe you. Not without proof.”

“You’re right,” I said with a smile. “He’s a good man.”

Nod.

“He’d never touch his daughter.”

Nod.

“He’d never even think of her in that light.”

Nod.

“So ... what would you do if I hypnotized him and made him fuck his own daughter?”

Lucy’s blank eyes widened. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but nothing came out.

She began twitching.

For a moment, I was worried. My mind filled with images of Lucy breaking, ending up as blank and mindless as Marcie. I almost started to wake her up.

And then she began to moan, and I realized:

She was cumming.

Just the **suggestion** that I could make Richard fuck his daughter ... she couldn’t stop herself. She was cumming without even touching herself, ignoring my orders not to.

“God,” she finally gasped, as the aftershocks of her orgasm subsided. “Oh my god. Yes. Yes. Please.

“Please, Jack. Do it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she replied in an aroused monotone, “if you can make Marcie’s Dad fuck her ... you can do anything.”

**Session C28:**

“If I asked you, would you tell me what you thought of my sister?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’s sitting next to you. It would be rude.”

Lucy was watching, transfixed.

Aside from Marcie’s catatonic state, she’d never actually seen me put someone under before.

She loved it.

I could tell that she wanted to jump in, offer suggestions, but she’d been given very strict instructions not to speak. I had no idea what conflicting instructions would do to someone while they were under, and I had no intention of finding out.

**Session 48:**

“Would it be selfish of me, to make Richard fuck his daughter?”

“No,” Lucy answered immediately. “It would be an act of kindness.”

“Why?”

“Because...”

She hesitated. I waited out the silence.

“It would be good for her. For him. For both of them.”

“Why would it be good for her?”

“She’s more herself when she’s being fucked.”

Interesting.

“You think that when I’m fucking Marcie, she’s ... back to her old self?”

“Not only when you’re fucking her,” Lucy responded. “And no, not completely. But that’s when she’s closest.”

“How so?”

“She’s ... fun.”

I started to ask a follow-up question, but cut myself off as I realized: Lucy was right.

Marcie wasn’t her old self. She’d never be herself again, far as I could tell.

But when she was being fucked, when she was cumming, whenever she was obeying sexual commands... 

She was at least **someone**. And just like my sister said ... you could see glimpses of the old Marcie.

Deliberately hearing only half of a sentence, or the way her teeth would nip at your lip when she was kissing you. It was like the old Marcie was back, just for a moment.

“Why is it good for him?”

“Because,” she said, a slight twinkle in her eye. “Marcie’s great in bed.”

“But she’s his daughter.”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “But she’s so fucking hot.”

“Don’t you think he’d feel guilty?”

“He looks like he already feels guilty. At least this way he’d be getting laid.”

I nodded.

“Hypothetical: I hypnotize Richard and make him fuck Marcie.”

I was fully prepared for Lucy to shake her head, to reject the idea outright.

Instead, she nodded.

“Your best friend fucks her father, and it’s all because of me.”

Nod.

“What would you do?”

“I’d get off thinking about it.”

“What else?”

“I’d get you off while I was thinking about it.”

“How?”

“With my mouth. With my hands.”

There was a pause, and Lucy’s mouth dropped slightly as she pieced it all together.

“ ... with my pussy.”

Her eyes shone, and I grinned at her.

“Would you fuck me?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

“You’d fuck me?”

“Yes.”

“You’d commit incest?”

“Yes.”

“You would let me fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Lucy said, her blank eyes boring into mine. “If you can do that to Marcie and her father, you’re too powerful to resist.”

**Session C29:**

“If I asked you, would you tell me what you thought of Marcie?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Richard didn’t answer.

I sighed.

“If I asked you why you wouldn’t tell me what you thought of Marcie, would you tell me?”

“No.”

I considered going down the question-hole another level, just to show Lucy how much damn **work** it could be, but I didn’t want to waste any time.

Not now that I knew what would happen when I succeeded.

“Would you tell me what you thought of your daughter’s tits?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me what you thought of your daughter’s mouth?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me what you thought of your daughter’s ass?”

“No.”

Lucy was squirming in her chair. I stopped teasing her, and continued a more serious line of questioning.

“If I asked you, would you tell me what you thought of me?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re a bright young man, with a strong interest in science.”

Lucy shot me a quizzical look. I’d briefed her on some of the work I’d done with Richard, but I hadn’t gone into every detail.

“If I asked you what you thought of yourself, would you tell me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It would be too depressing.”

**Session 48:**

It was tempting to wake Lucy up, then and there. Alter her memories, convince her that I **had** hypnotized Richard to have sex with Marcie.

I could be balls-deep inside my sister within **minutes**. Something I’d been working towards for months, dreaming about for years... 

It was within reach.

But I couldn’t. I needed to play it safe.

Besides, this was something I was actually planning on doing. For Marcie. To a lesser extent, for Richard.

Why lie, when I could just ... do the thing?

With a sigh, I woke Lucy up, and explained my plan to her.

She almost came again just hearing about it.

**Session C30:**

Lucy was in the other room with Marcie. Richard’s back was to the door, so he couldn’t see that it was ajar, had no idea that my sister was listening intently to everything we said.

When we’d arrived home the other night, she hadn’t let me touch her. She was so turned on, she was terrified of cumming accidentally.

“I can’t believe you’re doing it,” she’d said, awestruck. “I can’t believe you do that to me. To **Mom**.”

My sister isn’t stupid. A part of me was terrified that she’d work it out: that her desires, our entire sexual relationship, Mom’s position as the household fuckdoll ... that all of it had started shortly after I began hypnotizing her.

Right now, not being allowed to cum was distracting her. While the two orgasms she’d had while tranced had helped, she was still quite frenzied. Too frenzied to piece it all together.

I hoped.

“What did you dream about last night, Richard?”

“Marcie.”

“What specifically?”

“She was on all fours, begging me to fuck her.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

There was a soft moan from the adjacent room. I hoped Richard would think it was his daughter, and pressed on.

“Would you fuck your daughter in real life?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’d be taking advantage of her.”

“How?”

“She’s sick. Something happened to her, and she’s in an incapacitated state. To take advantage of someone in that state is ... it’s monstrous.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“No.”

“No part of you wants to?”

Silence.

“Do you think you’d be happier if you fucked Marcie?”

“That’s complicated.”

“On average, do you think you’d be more or less happy if you fucked Marcie?”

“More happy.”

“Do you think Marcie would be more or less happy if you fucked her?”

“More happy.”

“Why?”

“She seems happier when she’s...”

Richard trailed off. He’d tell me about his sexual, incestous dreams, but apparently describing Marcie’s real-life waking state was too much for him.

“Certain stimulus makes her happy.”

“What do you think my sister does in the other room, when she’s alone with Marcie?”

“I don’t know.”

“But what do you **think**?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t ever think about it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to know.”

**Session C31:**

“Richard, what would you do if my sister told you what she does with Marcie?”

“I’d listen.”

“What if she told you that it’s sexual?”

“I’d be furious. I’d kick her out, and ban her from ever seeing my daughter again.”

My eyes widened. Lucy’s, too.

That wasn’t what we’d been expecting.

I shot her a look. Lucy nodded and stood up. She’d been sitting next to me, waiting for my order to go into explicit detail.

Instead, she slipped into the next room, shutting the door most of the way.

“Why would you be so mad?”

“Because your sister would be taking advantage of my daughter.”

“Do you think Marcie would enjoy it?”

“Yes, but that isn’t relevant.”

“Do you think the idea is sexy?”

“Yes. But that isn’t relevant.”

I paused.

When I’d discussed the plan with Lucy the previous night, it had seemed so flawless.

Although perhaps my sister’s lusty admiration had ... maybe I’d gotten an overinflated sense of how effective it would be.

“Richard...”

No.

The more I thought about it, the more I was sure: my instinct had been right. It was a good plan.

It was a good plan, and it was going to work.

I just needed to come at it from a different angle.

I thought for a few more minutes, choosing my words carefully.

“How do you know my sister would be the one taking advantage?”

“Because my daughter is catatonic. It’s impossible to be sexual with her without taking advantage.”

“Why?”

“Because she can’t communicate what she wants. She can never take the lead.”

I smiled.

**That** was something I could fix.

“Hypothetical: you have a dream about my sister and your daughter, naked, making love...”

**Session C32:**

“How do you feel about my sister being alone in the room with your daughter?”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Have you ever felt uncomfortable about this before?”

“No.”

“But you do now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you worried that my sister is taking advantage of your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to check for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you?”

Richard didn’t answer.

“Hypothetical: my sister comes over without me.”

Nod.

“You hear a soft moan from the room they’re in.”

Nod.

“You notice they’ve left the door slightly ajar.”

Nod.

“You peek inside.”

Nod.

“My sister is making love to your daughter. What do you do?”

“I storm in there, wrench them apart, shout at Lucy, and forbid her from ever coming over again.”

Perfect.

“Okay, new hypothetical: my sister is over, and you peek inside to see what they’re doing.”

Nod.

“Lucy is sitting there while your daughter...”

I shifted forward slightly in my seat.

“Your daughter is trying to seduce her.

Richard sat and stared at me blankly.

“Marcie isn’t just sitting there. She’s trying to undress my sister, trying to make love to her.”

No reaction.

“Marcie is taking the lead.”

Nothing.

“Marcie is trying to seduce my sister. What do you do?”

There was a long silence, during which I really did hear a soft moaning sound coming from the next room.

Maybe that’s what triggered Richard’s response, or maybe he just needed processing time. In either case, he answered just a few moments after a second moan could be heard.

“I softly shut the door.”

“Do you tell my sister she can no longer come over?”

“ ... no.”

At long last, I was starting to feel like I’d mastered this.

**Session B131:**

“Marcie, whenever Lucy says ‘daffodil’, you’re going to reach out and try to take off her top.”

Marcie, to no one’s surprise, didn’t respond.

I nodded to Lucy.

“‘Daffodil’.”

Marcie reached out, and tried to remove my sister’s top.

**Session A186:**

“You’ve noticed that Lucy hasn’t cum recently.”

Nod.

“It worries you.”

Nod.

“If she doesn’t cum, she might end up like Marcie.”

Twitch. Nod.

“Next time you’re pleasuring her, you’re going to try twice as hard as you normally do.”

Nod.

“You don’t talk about sex, so you’re going to have to look after her in other ways.”

Nod.

The last two times I’d put Lucy under, she’d cum. Until my plan was complete, I was refraining from hypnotizing her. I wanted her to be as worked up as possible.

I was doing what I could to increase her frustration, but I figured there was no harm in getting Mom in on it as well.

Mom shook with pleasure as I pulsed inside her, my orgasm triggering her own.

“Good girl.”

She beamed in response.

**Session C33:**

“Would you tell me what you saw for the last few weeks, when I wasn’t here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not appropriate.”

“Would it be more appropriate if it was someone other than my sister?”

“ ... yes. But I still wouldn’t tell you.”

I nodded. It was all I could do to resist calling Richard a ‘good boy’.

The first week I wasn’t there, Marcie had attempt to seduce my sister. It hadn’t gone any further than that.

The second week, the two of them had made out for a few minutes. Again - Marcie had initiated the encounter.

I doubt Richard had noticed the very specific words my sister had spoken first.

Last week, Lucy had allowed Marcie to strip her. We weren’t sure exactly what Richard had seen, but my sister had told me he hadn’t been able to make eye-contact while she’d been saying goodbye.

It was as close as confirmation as we were going to get.

This week, I’d come along as well. Richard had looked disappointed to see me, but he’d enthusiastically accepted my offer to put him under.

I suspected the poor man had been fairly tense, as of late.

“Are you still going to let my sister visit Marcie?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because ... it’s good for her.”

Jackpot.

“My sister’s visit is good for your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It seems to be helping her improve. She’s more ... herself ... than I’ve seen her in months.”

“You don’t think my sister is a bad person?”

“No.”

“Do you think my sister should feel guilty?”

“No.”

“If Marcie behaved around you like she does with my sister, how would you feel?”

Richard was silent. I tried a different tack.

“If Marcie was more herself around you, even if she was doing things that society would frown upon, would you try to stop her?”

“ ... no.”

“Would you feel guilty?”

I hoped that Richard was picking up the implications of what I was saying. Getting any more specific might just make him shut down.

“No,” the older man finally said.

I took a deep breath.

“If Marcie started actively trying to seduce you, would you resist, or would you fuck her?”

Richard just stared at me silently.

Again, it was about as much confirmation as I could ever expect.

**Session C4:**

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever been attracted to your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever been attracted to your daughter?”

“No.”

**Session C21:**

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever been attracted to your daughter?”

“No.”

**Session C34:**

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever had sex with Marcie?”

Richard didn’t respond.

With a broad smile, I woke him up, and thanked him for having me over.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Richard said. He involuntarily glanced towards the room where my sister was still spending time with his daughter.

I could tell that he couldn’t wait for us to leave.

**Session 49:**

When I put my sister under, I was nervous that she’d cum on the spot.

It had been almost a month since Lucy had orgasmed while under trance, and 6 weeks since she’d consciously cum.

For someone with my sister’s hair-trigger orgasms, it was pretty damned impressive.

“Take your top off,” I said, and she obeyed immediately. “Your skirt, too.”

On the drive home, Lucy had been wide-eyed, absolutely stunned.

She’d seen it. She’d seen the evidence.

Marcie had been fucked.

Recently.

Lucy couldn’t stop staring at me.

“I am all-powerful, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

My sister’s entire body was twitching. It was clear that she about to either cum, or have a total breakdown.

“You cannot resist me, can you?”

“No.”

Twitch, twitch.

“What will you do if I order you to do something?”

“I will obey.”

“What if you don’t want to?”

“I will obey.”

“What if you think that it’s wrong?”

“I will obey.”

I was hard as a rock.

“Say it again.”

“I will obey.”

I barely recognized my own voice. I felt ... stronger.

More dominant.

“Again.”

“I will obey.”

“Is there anything I could order you to do that you would refuse?”

“No.”

“What is your purpose?”

“I was born to be your slave.”

“Say it again.”

“I was born to be your slave.”

“Good girl.”

Twitch, twitch, twitch.

“You were born to serve. Say it.”

“I was born to serve.”

“Again.”

“I was born to serve.”

I slipped two fingers inside my sister. She writhed at my touch, but didn’t cum.

After all, I’d ordered her not to.

She couldn’t disobey.

She couldn’t.

I spent a few moments, exploring every inch of her dripping wetness, as I had so many times before.

I could feel her arousal. I could feel her submission.

Lucy was mine. She belonged to me.

At long last, I was going to take my sister.

“If I tell you I want to fuck, what will you do?”

“I will fuck you.”

“If I tell you I want to fuck Mom, what will you do?”

“I will watch you fuck Mom.”

“You will do exactly as you’re told, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Who do you obey?”

“You.”

“Who were you born to serve?”

“You.”

“Good girl.”

She twitched.

“You exist for my pleasure. Say it.”

“I exist for your pleasure.”

“Again.”

“I exist for your pleasure.”

“Good girl.”

If my fingers hadn’t been deep inside her, I think she would have twitched right off the chair.

“I made you this way.”

My sister nodded.

“Say it.”

“You made me this way.”

She didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Stand up.”

She stood.

“Bend over.”

She bent.

Unzipping my pants, I moved behind her.

“I molded you into my perfect fucktoy.”

She nodded, a mix of fear, arousal, and utter obedience on her face.

“Say it,” I hissed.

“You molded me to be your perfect fucktoy.”

My cock could feel the heat of her pussy.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“Yes,” she panted.

“Say it.”

“You’re going to fuck me.”

Her monotone was all but gone. Lucy hadn’t cum for weeks, and she’d just discovered the extent of my power.

She was pleading. Desperate.

“When I started hypnotizing you, you weren’t interested in incest.”

“No...” she panted, as I lined myself up with her entrance.

I pulled her hair, and she squealed.

“I changed you,” I said softly. “I made you mine.”

“Oh **god**.”

Lucy’s back arched as I slid inside her.

“Don’t cum,” I reminded her, and she nodded.

“Please,” she begged, speaking out of turn. I’d punish her for that later. “Please...”

“I changed your dreams,” I said, as she clenched and twitched around my cock. “I changed your memories. The way you dress, the way you think.”

“ **God**...”

“I changed everything about you. I turned you into what you are now. My perfect whore. My obedient, submissive slave.”

She moaned, louder than I’d ever heard her moan.

“My sister slut.”

“No,” Lucy repeated, as I pounded into her, fucking my sister as hard as I could.

At last.

“Yes,” I insisted, grabbing her blonde hair and turning her to face me. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth open ... and still her eyes were blank.

“I gave you your desires. I made you into this.”

“No...”

“Yes,” I said. “Believe it. That’s an order.”

Lucy’s blank eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“I believe it,” she gasped. I could tell that she was using all her willpower to fight off a powerful orgasm.

“How does it make you feel?”

Lucy was clearly having trouble breathing, trouble speaking. I kept a tight grip on her hair.

“Owned,” she finally panted. “Dominated. **Yours**.”

“Good girl,” I smiled, fucking her faster. “You are owned. You are dominated. You are mine.”

“Yes, sir...”

I leaned in and whispered directly into her ear.

“Cum for me.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir...”

**Session 50:**

It was almost a year before I next hypnotized my sister.

There just wasn’t much need to, y’know?

I told her everything.

After waking her up, I told her everything. How much I’d always wanted her, how much I’d wanted Mom.

“Me too,” she’d said, and I’d laughed.

It had taken some time to explain to my sister exactly what I’d done to her, to Marcie.

To Mom.

I think it took her a few days to wrap her head around. A part of me was worried that she’d break, but ... I dunno.

My sister’s strong. Stronger than I realized, I think.

She hadn’t broken when I’d told her under hypnosis, and she didn’t break when I told her in real life.

“I can’t believe it,” she’d said. She’d repeated that a lot. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” I’d grunt, enjoying the feeling of her cumming around my cock.

Oh, yeah. That was the other thing I did after waking her up that last time.

I fucked her again.

And again, and again, and again, and again.

If I had to summarize the year, “I fucked her again” would be a pretty accurate description.

Sex with Lucy was different to both Mom and Marcie, though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what’s so different.

It was more ... everything. Just **more**.

Lucy was always wet. Even when I woke her up in the middle of the night, she was soaked. Sometimes we’d fuck directly above Mom’s face, as her waiting mouth caught all all the drips of her daughter’s pussy.

I’d thought my sister’s tits bounced when she blew me, but they basically flew around the room when I fucked her. She was so vocal, so expressive, so ... perfect.

She was perfect.

More than anything, I think it was her confidence.

Her confidence and her deference.

Knowing what had happened to her, knowing what I’d done to her ... it changed Lucy.

She truly let go. She let herself sink, unrestrained, into submission. Into what I’d turned her into.

After she’d learned that I was responsible for everything - for her, for Mom, for Marcie - she really accepted her life’s purpose. To serve. To serve me. To pleasure me. Anything that didn’t bring me pleasure, she quickly decided, wasn’t worth her time.

I think she accepted it because ... she couldn’t resist. She **couldn’t** resist. She knew the truth: my words had turned her from a nice, normal sister, into someone who existed for exactly one reason: to get me off.

And she loved it.

I loved it too, of course. I guess that pretty much goes without saying.

When I fucked my sister, I could feel her manipulating every inch of her body for my pleasure. She never came until I did, using her orgasm to milk my every last drop of cum. When she was done, she’d use her tits to clean my cock, and then Mom’s tongue to clean her tits.

By the time everything was cleaned up, I was almost always ready for another round.

When she wasn’t serving me, she was fucking Mom. She was obsessed with it. She particularly liked watching Mom’s eyes - as I fucked her, as she pleasured Lucy, as she obeyed our every sexual command.

“She’s like a prisoner,” she once told me, awed. “Trapped in her own head.”

I squirmed a bit at the phrasing. I mean, I’d always tried to make sure that Mom had a good time.

“She knows how wrong it is, but she can’t stop. She gets off on it. It’s so fucking hot.”

After a while, I’d just pull her head to my lap when she started talking like that, shut her up with my cock. She knew what I was doing, but what could she do?

She couldn’t resist.

When Lucy wasn’t fucking me or Mom, she was visiting Marcie.

Only a few times a week, and only ever when Richard was at school. She said she ‘didn’t want to interrupt’. She felt like she owed them that.

“What for?” I’d asked, once.

“For bringing us together,” she’d said softly.

I didn’t go with her.

Seeing Marcie was ... it was just ... god.

It was just **sad**.

And so I stopped going.

Lucy would occasionally give me updates. Marcie was better than she’d been, my sister said. The constant sexual stimulation her father provided was helping ... but I knew she’d never be who she’d once been.

I knew she’d always be broken.

Yeah, I left Marcie to her father and my sister. I’m glad she managed to find happiness, of a sort. I’m glad I managed to help, at least a little.

But I spent my days fucking two goddesses, both of whom were utterly devoted to serving my every whim. Why would I want to interrupt that with an reminder of my biggest failure?

Not for me, thanks.

“Lucy? Lucy, can you hear me?”

“Mmm?”

It had been Lucy’s idea.

Being hypnotized again, for the first time in a year. It was Lucy’s idea.

She’d wanted me to put her under just to check, to make sure that she was being as devoted a sex-slave as possible. She wanted me to make sure it wasn’t ‘wearing off’, and to check her consciousness, at every level, to make sure that she wasn’t holding back.

She wanted to make sure there were no limits that even **she** wasn’t aware of, lurking beneath the surface.

I’d explained to her that hypnosis didn’t really work like that, but she was convinced I could do it.

Fair, I guess, under the circumstances.

“Besides,” she’d said. “Even if you don’t find any hidden limits, maybe you can ... change me.”

Her breathing had quickened at the idea.

“Change you?”

“Yeah. Make me even **more** dedicated to your every want. Please, Master?”

I’d agreed, of course. That was the dirty little secret to my relationship with my sister: **I** couldn’t resist **her**.

And so I’d put her under.

“How do you feel?”

“ **Good,** Master.”

“Good girl.”

Lucy twitched. I smiled.

“How do you feel about me?”

“You’re all-powerful, Master.”

“Good girl.”

Twitch. Shudder.

“Is there anything you would ever lie to me about?”

“No, Master.”

“Are you my servant?”

“Yes, Master. I am your devoted slave.”

“Will you ever lie to me?’

“I would never lie to you.”

“Good girl.”

Lucy moaned.

“Is there anything you’re hiding from me?”

“No, Master.”

“Is there anything I should know that I currently don’t?”

“No, Master.”

“Is there anything you could do to serve me better?”

“Yes, Master.”

Interesting. I tilted my head to the side.

“What is it?”

“I could bring you more, Master.”

“More what?”

“More women, Master. More women to serve you. More women like me, like Mom. More women like Marcie, for you to bend to your will. For you to break, if you choose.”

Lucy’s blank eyes were sparking, and her monotone grew more intense.

“You deserve an army, Master. An army of women to serve your every want. Every desire you have should be fulfilled before you’ve even finished thinking it. I know women, Master. Women who trust me. Beautiful, busty women. Cheerleaders. Lawyers. Athletes.”

“Lucy...”

My sister continued.

“Women who are better-looking than me, Master.”

“Impossible.”

She didn’t slow down, not even for a second.

“If you teach me how to hypnotize them, I can bring them to you. I can brainwash them, make them yours. A harem of women, Master. Hundreds of women, devoted to obeying your every command...”

“Lucy,” I said gently.

“We could teach **them** to hypnotize others, Master. Towns of women. Countries. All yours. All for you...”

“ **Lucy** ,” I said, more firmly. She fell quiet.

“Lucy, I don’t need anyone more. I have you and I have Mom. Our family. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. It’s all I need.”

It had been a long time since I’d needed to read the blank stare of a hypnotized woman, but I could tell - Lucy was disappointed.

“I adore you, sis. I think you’re a goddess. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You’re the most wonderful woman in the world, and getting to have you is better than a hundred harems. I don’t care who your friends are; we don’t need them. You, me, and Mom - it’s all we need. Our life is perfect, and I’m happy. Truly I am.”

Lucy looked at me, the fires in her eyes slightly cooling.

We sat in silence for a minute.

“I’m not saying it’s not tempting,” I said, glancing over at the bed where Marcie had taken my virginity. “But ... it’s too risky. It’s not worth it.”

Lucy nodded.

“Okay?”

“Yes, Master,” Lucy responded, and I drew her to me for a hug.

Even through her trance, her hand instinctively found my erection, and began softly stroking it through my pants.

“I don’t need a harem,” I repeated. “I have you.”

We stood there for a long while, hugging, before I pulled back and looked into her deep blue eyes.

“I love you,” I said, and I could see her mouth twitching. “Speak.”

“I love you, Master.”

I kissed her, my beautiful blank-eyed sister. She kissed me back, moaning as she did.

“Lucy,” I said, pulling back to look at her once more.

I’d never get sick of looking at her.

“Why did you ask me to put you under?”

“To suggest the harem,” Lucy replied immediately. “And...”

“What?”

“I missed it,” she admitted, after a brief pause. “I missed being hypnotized.”

I smiled at my sister, standing naked in front of me, wanting nothing more than to take over the world so I’d have more women to play with.

“Lucy...”

“Yes, Master?”

“ ... did you say one of these women was a cheerleader?”

“Yes, Master.”

There was a long pause.

“Look,” I said, breaking the silence. “We’ll have to be **really** careful...”

“Of course,” Lucy grinned. “Of course, Master.”

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