﻿More Limits

by Pan



Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2024-02-16 22:41:16
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,381
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/MoreLimits/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: A hypnotist recounts some more sessions he has with his sister.
Erotica Tags: ex, in, mc, md, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8



	Chapter 1

This is a sequel to [Limits](https://mcstories.com/MoreLimits/../Limits/index.html)

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 confusing sentence, but Lucy is pretty bright, and she almost immediately answered.

“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, I was sure.

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. 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 2

### 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 given me an open window, and 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 3

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 as 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. Did they even have 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 fill that role.

“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, idiot. 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 4

### 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 5

### Session 25:

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, wounded 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 wanted 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 _want_ to 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.

At that point, even 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 is two minutes long or twenty, Mom seems 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 turn the experience into something positive.

“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 6

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…”

“My word, 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.

And 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 7

### 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. The Westermarck effect, it’s called—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.)

“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 8

### 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 close to pushing her limits further than I’d ever gone 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.

“…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 than that.

“…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 it 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 it could backfire quickly.

“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 incestual 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 spoke up and 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 and hidden 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 it 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 and quickly put 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 had had 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? Was she trying to make me suffer, or something?

### 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.”

### TO BE CONTINUED.

[[Lucy’s tale will continue in the third part of the Limits saga, [“No More Limits”](https://mcstories.com/MoreLimits/../NoMoreLimits/index.html). Thanks to my readers for their feedback and suggestions, and a special thanks to my Patreon backers—<https://www.patreon.com/panwhowrites>—for their ongoing support.]]


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