﻿No More Limits

by Pan



Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2024-02-16 22:46:40
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,999
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/NoMoreLimits/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: A hypnotist recounts yet 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 9

Chapter 10



	Chapter 1

As Mom delivered a new stack of pancakes to my plate, I looked around, and marveled at my new life.

Beside me, Lucy was lifting a forkful of her syrup-laden breakfast to her mouth, taking care not to get any on her bare breasts. In front of me, my mother’s magnificent tits were dangling, just begging to be touched.

Mom blushed when she noticed me staring, but she didn’t say anything. She turned the stove off and sat down to join us at the table.

It was cold that morning, so all four of the nipples staring me in the face were hard. I knew from experience how sensitive Lucy’s got when erect, but I could only wonder about my mother’s. Was the gentle breeze enough to turn her on? Was she getting aroused just from sitting there, topless, or would she require some more direct stimulation? Was I imagining the damp spot I’d seen in the middle of her panties?

The meal went quickly (the combination of great cooking and an even better view will do that) and all too soon, Mom was clearing the table.

“I should get dressed for work,” she said, and—as instructed—Lucy got up to give her a hug before she left the room. There was nothing quite like it: four huge breasts pressed up against each other, their soft skin coming into contact, the look of lust on Lucy’s face when she noticed me staring…

As soon as Mom closed the kitchen door, Lucy was on her knees in front of me, desperately swallowing my cock as fast as she could.

“Cum for me,” she gasped after a few minutes, taking a break from bobbing her head up and down. “Please…cum on my tits.”

I moaned, and she started stroking me faster and faster, looking up at me pleadingly, pinching her nipples so hard I thought she was going to rip them off.

“Cum on my tits and imagine they’re Mom’s…”

It was that mental image which set me off, and soon my cock was spurting, coating Lucy’s tits with my cum. She shut her eyes and began rubbing it in, and soon she was shaking with pleasure.

I smiled down at her, watching as she silently came from the sheer pleasure of getting me off. She was everything I’d ever dreamed she’d be, and more.

As she came down from her high and started to clean herself off, I glanced at the kitchen door, wondering if Mom was pressed against the other side, touching herself as she listened to what her children were up to…

### Session A62:

I froze.

What had Marcie just said? Had she just called me master? In front of Mom and Lucy?

Why the fuck would she…oh.

It suddenly dawned on me. I vaguely remembered telling her to call me that when she was under. I’d told my sister’s best friend to call me master, and I hadn’t thought to specify when it was or wasn’t appropriate…like when we were in front of my unsuspecting mother and sister.

Fuck.

For the last few months, I’d been hypnotizing my sister Lucy, her best friend Marcie, and my mother. See, as long as I can remember, I’ve been attracted to my family members. You might think that’s sick, but you’ve got to understand—both Lucy and my mother have _perfect_ bodies.

I know. I’ve seen them.

The trouble is, even when hypnotized, you can’t make someone do what they don’t want to do. Trust me—I’ve tried everything, but if you push someone too hard when they’re under, they just wake up.

What you can do, however, is work out when people _will_ do things. Like take Lucy—she would never normally show me her tits.

She’d never show _me_ her tits.

But if we were at a nude beach, if she was showing the world…sure. Then it wouldn’t be so weird for her brother to see her tits. (She has no idea how I feel about her—as far as Lucy’s concerned, I’m just her sweet, precious little brother, not someone totally obsessed with turning her—and Mom—into my own personal sex slaves.)

And if I’d already _seen_ them, then suddenly it’s not as big a deal.

The trick, I’d worked out, is hypotheticals—“What if I’d already seen your tits at the beach, and you were feeling insecure about them, and you wanted the opinion of someone you can trust—someone you know isn’t trying to sleep with you.”

Suddenly there’s a situation where it makes total sense for a sister to bare her tits to her brother.

It’s all about limits. If you can find someone’s limits then, with enough time and effort, you can move them. I’d discovered (totally by accident) that if you set up a hypothetical that tests the very edge of a limit, that thin line where their answer could go either way, where they _want_ to say yes but feel like that _have_ to say no…

They wake up. And they accept the hypothetical as reality.

If you can find someone’s limits, you can alter their very memories. And what are we, if not a collection of memories?

So far, I’d managed to use this to turn Lucy’s friend Marcie into my own personal sex slave, I’d gotten Mom to start walking around the house in skimpy outfits, and I’d managed to get Lucy topless, licking my dick until I came in her mouth.

I had done so much already, but I was sick of pushing limits.

Now: I wanted to destroy them.

I wanted to fuck my sister. I wanted to watch her fuck Mom. I wanted them to wake me up each morning with their mouths, and I wanted to drift off to sleep each night with my cock deep inside one of their asses.

But first, of course, I had something more pressing to deal with.

### Session B34:

“I belong to you.”

“Call me master.”

“I belong to you, master.”

“So if you belong to me, you’ll fuck who I tell you to fuck. I own your pussy, don’t I?”

“Yes, master.”

“I own your boobs, don’t I?”

“Yes, master.”

“And I own your pleasure, don’t I?”

“Yess…master…”

### Session A62:

Trying to look natural, I glanced at my sister and mother, hoping they hadn’t noticed what had just slipped out of Marcie’s mouth.

They were both staring at her, a curious look on their face.

Yeah…they’d noticed.

My mind was racing. How the _fuck_ do you explain away your sister’s best friend casually calling you master, in front of everyone? A thousand possibilities ran through my mind: pretending it was a game, laughing it off, acting like Marcie was crazy, telling them I was a dom and she was my sub, telling the truth…

Before I had time to land on any of them, Lucy spoke up.

“What’d you just say, Marce?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What was that?”

Feigning ignorance wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all I had.

“I was just saying hi,” Marcie said. To my great relief, she was looking just as confused as the rest of us—I barely remember telling her to call me master in the first place, so it clearly hadn’t been a big deal. She might not even have been aware there was anything weird about it.

Mom and Lucy still looked suspicious, but the moment passed, and Lucy took her friend away to catch up.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to see Mom looking at me suspiciously.

Fuck.

### Session B34:

“Who owns your mouth?”

“You do.”

“Who owns your body, Marcie?”

“Y—…you do.”

“Who owns you?”

“You do.”

“Who decides when you cum, Marcie?”

“You do.”

### Session A62:

Without even meaning to, my eyes flicked down to Mom’s chest. There were obviously more urgent matters at hand, but I couldn’t help myself—they were so _big_ , so beautiful…

Of course, I’d convinced her that family members never, ever saw each other in a sexual light, so she didn’t even register my glance.

“What’s up?” I asked, still trying to be casual.

“Is there something going on between you and Marcie?”

My heart-rate quickened.

“What do you mean?”

There was no reason for Mom to connect Marcie calling me master to our hypnosis sessions (Mom didn’t even know I was hypnotizing Marcie—she knew about Lucy, but not her friend) but I still felt like I was standing on the verge of everything collapsing.

“I mean…”

Mom paused, and pursed her lips. I would have given anything to know what she was thinking—stupidly, my main impulse was to hypnotize her. I wanted to ask what was running through her head…but of course, if anything would make her start to question hypnotism, it was asking to put her under when she was already suspicious.

No, I had to talk my way out of it. And then I had to wait for _her_ to approach _me_ for another session—anything else was just too dangerous.

“…never mind. I just thought I’d ask.”

Jesus.

Now I was going to spend the next few weeks too nervous to do anything with Marcie when Mom was around. Not, of course, that we were exactly fucking in the living room before then, but I’d been planning to sneak Marcie into my room as soon as she was done hanging out with my sister…

Oh, shit.

Marcie was with my sister right now. And Lucy was not the kind of person who would just leave Marcie “master” slide. Marcie was probably getting the third degree right now…and there was nothing I could do about it.

I thought my instructions had been clear—that we couldn’t do anything that drew attention to what we were doing. But I also didn’t remember telling her to call me Master in front of everyone, so clearly I hadn’t been as thorough as I thought.

In that moment, everything could have collapsed. My sister could have found out that Marcie was my personal slut. She could have learned about the hypnosis, and asked herself what I could have changed about her. She could have realized that the way she was dressing—the way _Mom_ was dressing—it was all weird, new. She could have banned me from ever hypnotizing her again…or she could have done what Mom did the other day, and just totally shut down.

As Mom headed up to her room to get changed (her revealing outfits were just for around the house…after all, what did it matter if family saw your body?) I didn’t even glance at her yoga pant-encased butt. My head was spinning—I’d been so foolish, taken so many risks.

Everything I was working towards was at risk of falling apart. I didn’t know what to do…

And so I just took some deep breaths. Nothing had happened yet—I’d wait until Marcie came back out. If everything was okay, I’d put her under, and I’d find out what they’d talked about. She’d tell me—I knew she would.

Until then, all I could do was I wait. And wait. Mom left for the shops, our grandfather clock chimed the hour, empires rose and fell, my heart-rate slowly returned to normal, and my mind stopped constructing elaborate, terrifying fantasies.

And after what felt like a thousand years (but was probably less than a decade), my sister’s door opened, and I could hear the sound of footsteps. Marcie came into the lounge room, and after glancing around to make sure that no one else was around, she smiled at me.

“Hey master,” she said. “Want to go to your room and fool around?”

### Session B35:

The first thing I did, of course, was get rid of that “master” shit. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to survive this long without it biting me in the ass.

Don’t get me wrong—it was hot, but way, _way_ too dangerous. Even when we’re alone; you never know who’s listening in.

The second thing I did was ask what her and Lucy had spoken about. And that was when I ran into an unexpected roadblock.

“Thanks for that—I’ve missed it.”

She paused, reached out one hand for my crotch, and a saucy smile came upon her face.

“Of course, not as much as I’ve missed this…”

Asking Marcie about what she spoke about with my sister woke her up. Just the act of asking her. There was no hesitation, no clarification—one second she was under, and then as soon as I asked about the conversation with Lucy, she woke up.

What the fuck had they discussed?


	Chapter 2

### Session B36:

I put Marcie under again straight away.

Well, not straight away. We had sex first—it was clear that she needed it as much as I did. I made sure she was quiet, and that we were quick; the last thing I needed was Mom coming home discovering that I was lying to her, and that my sister’s best friend had suddenly become my casual fuck buddy.

Of course, for Marcie we were more than just casual partners. I’d implanted a total obsession in my sister’s bestie—as far as she was concerned, she’d been thinking about me while playing with herself since she first started masturbating. “Master” wasn’t just a fun nickname—to her, it was the absolute truth.

As soon as we were done (which wasn’t long) I put her under. I’d trained her well; she didn’t even question why I wanted to hypnotize her again so quickly.

And this time, I tried a more subtle approach.

“Okay Marcie; would you tell me what you and Lucy talked about?”

“No.”

No hesitation, no pause, nothing.

This was new. On one hand, I was still worried…but immediately post-orgasm it’s harder to stress me out, and so now I was just sort of intrigued by the puzzle that had presented itself.

“Would you tell me why you won’t tell me?”

“Yes.”

My subjects had all gotten good at interpreting complex questions.

“Why won’t you tell me what you and Lucy talked about?”

“It’s private.”

I sat back thoughtfully. I’d assumed that turning Marcie into my personal sex-slave, happy to wrap herself around my cock whenever the opportunity presented itself and do everything short of fucking her father…that, to me, suggested absolute obedience.

But apparently not.

“Would you tell me if you’d tell her about you and me?”

“No.”

Damn it.

“Would you tell me if you told her why you called me master?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell her why you called me master?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s private.”

I could almost feel my heart-rate slowing. Okay. My sister may or may not know about my sexual antics with Marcie, but she surely wouldn’t know the full extent of it.

Marcie, it seemed, had a strong sense of privacy. On one hand, that was clearly to my benefit. If Lucy found out that Marcie was dedicated to serving my sexual needs, I can’t help but feel that she’d become a tiny bit suspicious.

On the other hand, it was sort of bugging me.

I had total access to her body: she would do literally anything I asked her to in the bedroom, and I’d assumed I had equal access to her mind.

Incorrectly, I guess.

I know it didn’t really matter, I know I should have just let it slide. But I’d found a limit (something that hadn’t happened for a long time with Marcie) and it was almost a point of pride.

I wanted to know what she wasn’t telling me, and why she wouldn’t share.

And so with a glance at the door—it was locked, so no one could barge in—I set to work. If they insisted I come out, I knew it would be tricky to explain why Marcie was in my room, but it was better than having them walk in and finding her naked and hypnotized.

“Okay,” I said, after a moment of thought. I felt like I was rolling up my sleeves and working on an old favorite project—Marcie had certainly never been _boring_ , but our last dozen or so sessions hadn’t presented much of a challenge. “Hypothetical: the house is on fire. Lucy and I are both trapped under…pieces of wood.”

House fires aren’t exactly one of my areas of expertise.

“You only have time to save one of us before the roof collapses. Who do you save?”

“Lucy,” she replied in her familiar monotone, without even a moment of hesitation.

Well, I suppose that settled that. She prioritized Lucy over me, despite the obsession I’d implanted. I wasn’t exactly jealous—“sisters before misters”, after all—but I felt like the secret to cracking the safe of secrets I’d just discovered was to switch that order, make her more loyal to me than to my sister.

There were a few ways to go with that. I could break them up; create a hypothetical where Lucy pissed her off in some way, or have them drift apart…but something about that felt wrong. I, after all, have my limits as well, and making my sister lose her best friend wasn’t something I was interested in doing.

Plus it would mean that Marcie came around less often, and _that_ was unacceptable. 

I could try to strengthen her relationship with me, but I genuinely couldn’t think of any way to make Marcie _more_ loyal to me than she was already. As far as Marcie was concerned, she’d been romantically and sexually obsessed with me since the moment we met. Where do you go from there?

For a moment I considered how she’d react to the threat of losing me. Maybe she’d be so appalled by the idea that her barriers would break down…again though, that didn’t sit right with me. I’d turned Marcie into my pet, and the idea of being cruel to her wasn’t something that appealed in the slightest.

When we’d started, she’d been my sister’s less-attractive friend. Now, she was someone quite special to me (the girl who took my virginity, for one) and I didn’t want to do anything that would hurt her.

I was stumped. I sat there, looking at the naked, obedient (but not quite obedient _enough_ ) girl sitting in front of me.

And that’s when it struck me. The solution to a few different problems that had been bugging me.

I didn’t need to ruin Marcie’s relationship with my sister, I just needed to adjust it. Change the nature of it. Right now, Lucy was the best friend, whereas I was just the…boyfriend, I guess. Fuck-buddy. However you want to put it.

Master.

If, however, I made Lucy’s relationship with Marcie _sexual_ …we’d _both_ be sexual partners, and it would be child’s play to ensure that I was the alpha. She’d be viewing both of us in the same light, and all I’d need to do was ensure that she preferred me to Lucy.

And, as an added bonus, I’d be making another fantasy come true: Marcie and Lucy, making out, wrapping their bodies around each other…I was getting hard just thinking about it. I’d seen both their faces as they came, I was starting to work out what turned them on, what got them off.

What’s more, I knew that Marcie was interested in this. She’d told me in the past about her sexual fantasies involving Lucy. And from my Japanese game show hypothetical, I knew that Lucy was interested in girls…well, making out with them at the very least.

This was going to be fun.

“Okay…” I wracked my brain, trying to remember the last time we’d run this scenario. “Hypothetical: you and Lucy are hanging around at the pool.”

Nod.

“She’s wearing her red bikini, and you’re in that black one you once dreamt was being ripped off you by Bigfoot.”

Nod. I not only have an in-depth knowledge of my sister’s bikinis, I also know a bunch of details about Marcie’s weird sex dreams. 

“You’re chatting, and you decide to make a move.”

Shake. Damn it, my memory of the fantasy is too fuzzy. Last time I just recounted her fantasy back to her, and she agreed to way more than I expected.

“Okay,” I said with a sigh, acknowledging my own memory’s weakness. “Tell me about the sex dream you had about Lucy, with the bikinis and the making out.”

“Lucy and I are sitting beside the pool,” Marcie started, her black stare and monotone not making the retelling any less hot. “She’s wearing her black bikini, and I’m in my leopard-print one.”

(I was fairly sure that it wasn’t my choice of bikini that had screwed things up.)

“She gets up and starts to walk away. We’re both really turned on though, and when she turns back to me, I take off my bikini, exposing myself to her. She’s sucking on my nipples, and I can feel her drinking my milk…”

I cut her off. Marcie’s dreams get abstract so quickly, and her scenario wasn’t exactly helpful. But it had served its purpose of reminding me what I’d said last time; I’d had Marcie suggest making out, to tease me through the window.

It was sexual, so I was fairly sure I could get Marcie to do it, and it involved teasing me, so I didn’t think it would be hard to get my sister on-board as well. From there, it would be an easy progression…and here’s the best thing about hypnotizing people: nothing actually has to happen in real life. 

Not until everything is set up, anyway.

I could run separate hypotheticals with both of them, construct an elaborate fantasy, until they were regular lesbian lovers…and then make it “true” for both of them. I could turn their relationship from best friends to lovers in an instant, provided I did the proper groundwork.

And believe me, it was groundwork that I was happy to do.

“Okay, Marcie. Hypothetical: you and Lucy are sitting by the pool. I’m inside, and you can tell that I’m checking you out.”

Nod.

“You decide to tease me.”

Nod.

“You’re wearing a leopard-skin bikini, and my sister is in her tight little black number.”

Nod.

“You know that I can hear your conversation, and so to turn me on, you ask my sister if she wants to practice making out.”

Shake.

What?

I wracked my brains for a moment until I remembered: in the last hypothetical, this had been earlier, when I was in the full-body cast from the time I’d been hit by a truck. (I’d made sure to write all the details of my “accident” down—both Marcie and Lucy thought this was something that had actually happened, and if they ever asked about it, I wanted to make sure that I didn’t contradict myself.) 

That obviously wouldn’t work this time, unless I retroactively had their lesbian relationship start then…but, of course, that would bring potential contradictions of its own. Would Marcie have started fucking me if she was getting off with Lucy?

I could try having the two timelines run simultaneously, but the image of my mother staring blankly at the family photo album came to mind, and I decided not to risk it.

This was going to be trickier than I’d thought. Still, the easiest way to get somewhere would be to experiment.

“Okay, new hypothetical. You’re having a sleepover with my sister.”

Nod.

“You two are sharing a bed.”

Nod. I was tempted to have her sneak down the hall and get me off (something about that idea really pressed my buttons for some reason) but I decided not to let myself get distracted.

Especially since that was something we could actually do. For real.

“You wake up from a sexy dream…”

Nod.

“…and find yourself really turned on.”

Nod.

“You ask Luce if she’s awake.”

Nod.

“And she says yes, in a voice that tells you she’s really turned on as well.”

Nod. I don’t know what kind of voice that would be, but Marcie had accepted it, and that was good enough for me. This memory would be a good one for Lucy to share, too. I knew from previous sessions how far I could push my sister when she was hypothetically sleepy and aroused.

“There’s a long, tense silence between the two of you…”

Nod.

“…and you decide to reach out and grab her boob.”

Shake.

Yeah, I guess that isn’t really the smoothest of moves. How do half-asleep girls hit on each other?

“There’s a long, tense silence…and you ask her if she’s turned on.”

Shake. Too confrontational, I guess?

“There’s a long, tense silence. You’re laying facing each other.”

Nod.

“You lean forward and press your lips against hers.”

Shake. Okay, maybe Marcie doesn’t like being the aggressor. But I know (again, from experience) that my sister enjoys taking the lead.

“There’s a long, tense silence. Lucy leans forward and presses her lips against yours.”

Nod. We got there!

“What do you do?”

“I lean back.”

“What?”

“I lean back.”

“What then?” I asked, in the hope that this could be somehow salvaged.

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

Okay. Maybe the approach had been wrong. I started the hypothetical again, but this time I cut the long, tense silence and went straight from “Are you awake?” to the kiss.

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

Over the next twenty minutes, I blew right through my standard time-limit. I re-ran that hypothetical a dozen times, and every time, I got the same answer:

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

I tried other scenarios: by the pool, at the movies, in the girl’s bathroom, drunk at a party…no matter what I did, Marcie refused to make a hypothetical move, and every time hypothetical Lucy did, she got rejected by the same line.

“I tell her that I love her more than anyone in the world, but I’m not interested in doing that with her.”

Finally, I admitted defeat. But before I woke Marcie up and sent her on her way, I asked her a question…a question I should have asked after the scenario failed the third or fourth time.

“Would you ever hook up with my sister?”

“No.”

I sighed, and glanced at the clock. Mom was almost certainly home by now, else I’d try a different approach, come at the problem from another angle.

What the _fuck_ had they talked about?


	Chapter 3

### Session 29:

Something was wrong.

It had been four days since I’d last hypnotized my sister…that wasn’t what was wrong, though it certainly wasn’t helping.

No, I hadn’t put my sister under for four days _because_ something had gone wrong. Something had changed, and I didn’t want to risk making a move until I had a better understanding of what.

Don’t get me wrong—I desperately _wanted_ to hypnotize her, for so many reasons. To see her tits again. To cum on them, or have her lick my cock until I came into her mouth.

But more than anything, to find out what the fuck was going on.

Four days ago, Marcie had come home, chatted to my sister, and then refused to tell me what they’d talked about. She hadn’t been around again since, else I would have tried to push her and find out what was happening.

But without knowing what they’d talked about, I didn’t want to go around to Marcie’s (in case it exacerbated the problem) and I didn’t want to ask Lucy if I could hypnotize her.

I was stuck, stalemated without knowing why. I couldn’t take any actions…I had to wait until they came to me. And for whatever reasons, no one was.

Even after all this time, I don’t really understand what people think is happening when I put them under. I know that they find it relaxing, and that no matter what we talk about they wake up happy and feeling refreshed, but what do they think I’m saying while they’re out? My mother, my sister, Marcie—how do they explain the missing time?

I don’t know that I’ll ever know. But whatever they think is going on, I know that they like it.

And so after four agonizing days, my sister approached me and asked if I’d put her under.

“Okay Lucy,” I said as soon as her eyes glazed over and her whole body relaxed. “The other day, when Marcie got home and you two went into your room to talk: would you tell me what you guys talked about?”

“No,” she said, and I tilted my head to the side thoughtfully.

Something had happened in that conversation—something that had changed everything. See, since that day my sister had stopped teasing me.

Not that it had ever been explicit; she’d never flashed me her pussy or stripped off her clothes and danced or anything like that. But since I’d suggested it, my sister had thoroughly embraced the idea of teasing me with her body—I got regular glimpses of her cleavage, her panty-clad ass. If it was just the two of us, she’d walk around in lingerie or a bikini, casually showing herself off for her younger brother.

I’d convinced her that it was something I wouldn’t even notice. Believe me, pretending not to pay attention to my sister’s incredible body was a hell of a challenge…but I’d always managed.

But for whatever reason, the teasing had stopped. Something had changed, and I needed to know why.

“Would you tell me why you’ve stopped teasing me?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me why you won’t tell me what you talked about?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me…

I paused. I’d mentally run this conversation a thousand times over the last few days, but I guess I’d been more optimistic when it was in my head. I hadn’t expected to hit nothing but a billion consecutive dead ends.

Sitting there, staring at my sister in silence, I made a decision. This session wasn’t going to end without me moving forward. Sure, I’d taken a step back—now it was time for two steps forward.

I’d waited too long and worked too hard for this bullshit. It was time for a change, and if that meant taking a different tack, that was what I’d do.

“Okay Lucy,” I said. “Would you ever make out with Marcie?”

Nod. Not even a moment of hesitation. It looked like my sister knew what was what, even if Marcie insisted on being difficult about it.

“Do you think Marcie would ever make out with you?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me why not?”

“No.”

God damn it.

“Do you know why not?”

“Yes.”

I took a deep breath. In one of the billion times I’d run this conversation through my head, I’d come up with something that I was hoping not to use, but was sure would be effective.

“Hypothetical: Marcie is dead.”

Nod.

I know, I know. It was a pretty dark direction to go. But I wanted—no, I _needed_ to know what had changed, and as long as Marcie was “alive”, I knew that Lucy would never betray her trust.

All I had to do was be _very_ careful not to accidentally wake Lucy up. If she thought Marcie was dead and then ran into her on the street, or got a text…it would not end well, of that I was sure.

“She was hit by a car crossing the road. She didn’t feel any pain when she went.”

Nod. Not immediately, but when she did nod, it was firm. Confident. Lucy’s face remained totally blank, but a single tear fell from her eye as I watched, fighting my instinct to tell her that everything was fine, that Marcie was alive and well.

I love my sister, after all, and the last thing I want to do is cause her any pain. But I needed results, and I was sure that this was the way to get them.

“After the funeral, I pull out a bottle of whiskey, and ask if you want a drink.”

Nod. I was slightly taken aback by that—I’d half-expected her to refuse that, and only agree when she was the one providing the alcohol. She normally liked to drive these things, after all.

I guess she was in shock?

I decided not to question the gift I’d been given, and continued.

“What do you say?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “Please.”

“I hand you the bottle and you take a swig.”

Nod.

“You hand it back, and I drink as much as you did.”

Nod.

This was going better than I had expected.

“An hour later, we’ve finished half the bottle each, and we’re both pretty wasted.”

Nod. Great. I’d never used alcohol in a hypothetical before, but I was fairly sure as the drink hypothetically pumped through her veins, it would serve to lower her defenses.

“I start talking about Marcie.”

Nod. Another tear trickled down the side of my sister’s face, but I pressed through. You don’t make an omelette without breaking a few hearts.

“I ask what the last thing you guys talked about was.”

Nod.

“What do you say?”

My sister paused, and I panicked. If she woke up now she might think she was drunk, and she’d definitely think Marcie was dead.

“Wait!” I said, and my sister’s blank eyes focused slightly, a sort of disturbing sight. “Will you tell me the last thing she talked about with her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Phew. Still, better safe than sorry.

“I ask what the last thing you talked about with her was. What do you say?”

In a slurred voice, my sister responded with a single word:

“You.”

### Session B43:

“Would you fuck my sister?”

“Yes.”

“Would you eat her out?”

“Yes.”

“Would you let her go down on you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you most want to do with her?”

“I want to suck on her tits. I want to suck on her nipples and watch her face as I do. I want to roll her nipples around my mouth, and then reach down and feel how wet I’m making her. Then I want to slip two fingers into her wetness and listen to her moan.”

I unzipped my pants, and positioned myself at her entrance.

“Keep going,” I said. “I’m going to fuck you while you talk.”

She nodded and moved her hips into place, not pausing for a second.

### Session 29:

I held my breath.

So, it had happened. My sister had discussed me with Marcie. What did she know? Why had things changed?

What had been said?

“I nod. Do you continue?”

“Yes.”

“What do you say?”

“She told me about you,” she said slowly. For a moment, her eyes flicked down, and my heart skipped a beat. My sister couldn’t wake up. Not now. Not during this. “She told me…what you guys do.”

“Will you tell me specifically what she said?”

Nod.

“What specifically did she say?”

“She said that you guys had been hooking up for a while.”

“What else?”

“She said…”

Again, that pause, and again that moment of panic. This time I didn’t interrupt, and after a beat, Lucy continued.

“…she said that it was good.

“Real good.”

I stared to the side, my brow furrowed. Marcie had told my sister that we were hooking up. Despite specific instructions not to, she’d disobeyed my order and told my sister that we were having sex, and that we had been for a while.

And as a result, my sister had stopped teasing me.

Why? It didn’t make any sense. Why would what I did with Marcie stop her from showing off her body to me?

Unless…

A thought suddenly struck me, and I quickly worked out the best way of testing it out.

“Forget that hypothetical,” I said, and my sister’s subtle sway disappeared. It was fascinating to see: in an instant, she was stone-cold sober, staring blankly, attentively waiting to hear what I said next.

“Question: What sexual things would you do with me, in the right circumstances?”

“None,” she said in her soft monotone. “I will never do anything sexual with you.”

### Session B120:

“Okay,” Lucy said softly, glancing at Marcie, an excited look on her face. On Lucy’s face, that is. Marcie’s face was just the same as it always was—blank. Empty. Flat.

Dead.

Even when she came, her expression barely changed. If I’m being honest, there was something weirdly hot about it.

Hot and sad, in roughly equal measures.

Unzipping my pants, I pulled my cock out, and Marcie’s eyes focused on my head. Most people would have said that her face hadn’t changed an iota, but I’d been staring at her blankness for a long time now, and I was starting to learn how to read it.

She smiled. As much as she ever would, anyway.

Lucy, meanwhile, beamed. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against Marcie’s, and the brunette immediately started kissing her back.

Lucy took Marcie’s hand and placed it on my cock, which she expertly began rubbing and tugging.

“Good girl,” I murmured, and shivered with pleasure as the kiss began to move towards my erection. Soon their tongues were dancing across my head, and Marcie’s hand moved up to gently play with my balls.

### Session 29:

I sat back, completely thrown for a loop.

“Say that again,” I ordered, and my sister repeated exactly what she’d said.

“I will never do anything sexual with you.”

“No matter the circumstances?”

“No matter the circumstances.”

“Would you discuss sex with me?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Would you discuss masturbation with me?”

“No.”

Wow. This wasn’t one step back, this was half a dozen. That was a limit that hadn’t even existed when I’d _started_ hypnotizing her.

A part of me was tempted to wake her up, spend more time thinking, but I knew what had happened.

At least, I had some pretty strong suspicions.

Until now, everything I’d done with Lucy had been under the guise of me being totally innocent. The 34 to 37 times she’d jerked me off, the kiss, the teasing…especially the teasing.

Every step of the way, Lucy had thought she was leading things and that I was just along for the ride. She’d seen me as a rube, totally new to the world of sex. She’d been the corrupter, and I’d been the innocent, unaware of what was truly happening, never seeing the whole picture, never understanding what it really meant.

But now…

She knew.

My sister didn’t know how I felt about her, thank god. But she knew that I wasn’t innocent. Lucy knew that I’d been involved with Marcie; she knew that I’d had sex.

She knew not only that I’d had sex, but that I was skilled.

Everything had changed.

### Session B120:

I swear, every time my sister’s tongue reached out and met her best friend’s, Marcie came. And I don’t mean every couple of minutes—no more than twenty seconds went by without Lucy’s tongue reaching out and caressing Marcie’s.

And each and every time it did, Marcie came.

Would I have still gone down the path I did, if I’d known what the outcome would be?

I’d like to say no, but it’s honestly hard to answer. As I stood there, pants around my ankles, two beautiful, horny teens making out, my cock in the middle of their passionate kiss…

What had happened to Marcie was awful, of course. And worse; it was entirely my fault. It’d gotten greedy.

But moments like this…it’s hard to have regrets when everything feels this good, y’know?

And even for Marcie, I can’t honestly say that I’d give it all up.

### Session 29:

“Okay,” I said calmly. There was a way back from this, I was sure of it. “Would you…would you talk to me about sex?”

“No.”

I couldn’t help but see it as a dead end, as a sign that I’d failed. Marcie was meant to be a test subject, a way of trying stuff out before using it on my family, but I’d gotten greedy and used her for sex.

Now…I was paying the price. My careful plans with Lucy were ruined. Every idea I’d had for future sessions was gone.

29 sessions in, I’d managed to go backwards. Everything I’d accomplished…every hypothetical I’d thrown her way, every limit I’d managed to push, gone.

My sister probably wouldn’t even let me _see_ her tits, let alone jerk off on them. If she caught me jerking off in the bathroom, she’d probably keep on walking.

Licking my dick until I came in her mouth? Not a chance in hell.

My greed had caused me to pay the ultimate price. I’d lost everything, just because I wanted to get my dick wet. I’d fucked the best friend, and now the prize was gone forever.

No. No, it couldn’t be over. This was a step back—that’s all it was. One step back. Maybe two.

And then—forward, in a running sprint.

After all, Lucy wouldn’t let me see her tits when I first started. It took months for her to get me off with her mouth. But I’d gotten so far, I’d learned so many tricks.

My sister’s limits had shifted. In the wrong direction, sure, but they were still pliable. Flexible. I knew how far they could be pushed, and so it was only a matter of time.

I just had to find the right hypothetical.

“Okay,” I said, after a deep breath. “Hypothetical: you, uh, you come into my room and find me and Marcie hooking up.”

Shake. Yeah, that made sense. Now she knew what she was up to, no way she was entering a room without knocking.

“Hypothetical: you find me crying…”

Shake.

Shit. Tears were off the table. They’d been responsible for so many breakthroughs, but now…now I was in new, unexplored territory. No more safety net.

If I wanted to move forward, I had to go to places I’d never been before. Places I thought I’d never go.

“Hypothetical…”

I wracked my brains, before remembering the newest tool I’d added to my arsenal.

“Hypothetical,” I repeated, a huge grin on my face. “You come home to find me holding a large bottle of scotch…”


	Chapter 4

### Session 29:

“Truth,” my sister slurred. “…or dare?”

It hadn’t taken long to get my sister hypothetically drunk and playing her favorite party game.

A game of truth or dare that had gotten increasingly sexual.

Not the dares, I should specify. No, I didn’t want to do anything that would risk my sister waking up, and so I’d kept the dares stupid—the kind of dares that you see people doing in movies all the time.

Honestly, I’ve never been drunk. But Lucy has, and so her brain was able to fill in the gaps.

“I pick truth,” I said—I’d been admitting all sorts of outlandish things, testing answer after answer until I found something that my sister would believe. The trick, I figured, was vulnerability without judgement. The more dark secrets I admitted to, the more of my soul I invented to reveal, the more likely Lucy was to admit secrets in return.

And then once she had, who knew what would happen? Maybe drunk Lucy would make out with her brother. Maybe drunk Lucy didn’t need her brother to be innocent in order to get with him.

Maybe drunk Lucy would fuck her brother.

There was only one way to find out.

“Tell me,” she said, a wicked gleam flashing into her otherwise-blank eyes, “…when you’re having sex with Marcie, do you ever think of anyone else?”

I considered throwing her a line about a celebrity, or a girl at school. I considered mentioning Marcie’s mom or a hot cousin, but after a few seconds of thought, I decided to go for broke.

After all, what was the worst that could happen? She’d wake up, and I’d try again next time.

“I pour you another glass of whiskey,” I said, hoping that my hypothetical offering wouldn’t be enough to knock her out. “The room is spinning, but you’re listening closely to my response.”

Nod. At least, I think it was a nod. Despite there not being even a drop of alcohol in her body, Lucy was starting to lose control of her faculties, and the motion of her head was more of a circle than a straight up-and-down.

“I ask you to repeat the question. What do you say?”

“I said,” Lucy said, way too loudly, “when you fuck Marcie, do you ever think of anyone else?”

She jumped as the word fuck slipped out of her mouth, as if someone other than her had said it. It was obvious that it had slipped out, but she didn’t pause or apologize, just emphatically finished the question.

“I pause,” I said, and she again gave me that a weird, circular nod. “And when I answer, it’s obvious that I’m very drunk. It’s clear that this is something I wouldn’t normally admit, but I’m totally wasted, and I completely trust you.”

Again my sister nodded, and I smiled. This was going to work—I knew it was.

### Session B123:

Marcie came each time my sister did. She came each time I did as well. Truth be told, each time Lucy breathed particularly heavily, or vocally enjoyed one of my thrusts, Marcie would cum.

My sister had taken over the blowjob while Marcie watched, and as I thrust into her mouth again and again, I wondered what it would be like to fuck Marcie.

Y’know. In her current state.

I’d fucked her before the blankness—countless times. But since…well, since things had changed, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to.

I wondered, though. I wondered pretty often. What would it be like to fuck someone so…responsive?

Not, of course, that it was going to happen. She couldn’t even eat by herself—she had to be spoon fed. Her father mostly took care of that. I’d seen the look in his eyes as he desperately tried to pretend she wasn’t cumming every time the spoon entered her mouth.

She definitely wasn’t on the pill, and that was an obvious reason not to do anything with her. I’d done enough to Marcie already—leaving her with a child wasn’t on the table.

Sure, I could wear a condom. But I’d gotten so used to sex without one in the last few weeks, I didn’t really want to go back.

### Session 29:

“What do you say?”

“…me?” she repeated, shocked. “But I’m…I’m your sister?”

“I say it again, just as drunk: that sometimes, I think of you. I’m speaking in a loud whisper, and it’s obvious that I think I’m being quieter than I am.”

The more details I give, the more believable the hypothetical is. The fact that my sister hadn’t woken up was a good sign, but as she sat there processing, that familiar fear came back.

Sure, the only implanted memory would be “one time you and your brother got drunk.” But maybe she’d remember my confession.

Maybe she’d remember me saying that I thought about her during sex.

As Lucy swayed back and forth, wide-eyed, taking my words in, I started to relax. If she was going to wake up, she surely would have done it by now. No, this wasn’t anything to worry about.

This was something to celebrate.

I didn’t think she was going to make a move, not this session. But we were slowly inching into a new direction—maybe even somewhere further than where we’d been, before her conversation with Marcie. Before she’d learned that I was…what’s the term the doctors use? Sexually active.

Before she’d started seeing me as a sexual creature.

Adrenaline was starting to pump through my veins. Sure, it sucked that I wasn’t going to see her tits again any time soon, or feel her tongue on my cock. But those had never been the real aim—those were steps on the path to where I wanted to be.

Complete sexual servitude.

No one becomes a sex slave to someone they don’t see as a sexual being. The fear disappeared, and now I was excited.

My sister knew that I was sexually active. She saw me as sexual, and that meant I didn’t need to trick her into “helping” me out. Not any more.

Now I just had to convince her that I was someone she wanted to fuck.

“What do you say?”

“Wow,” she said in a loud whisper. “Wow.”

I could have left it there, but I was too pumped up. I decided to see what else I could do, where else I could go.

What doors I’d opened up with my confession.

“I ask you truth or dare. What do you say?”

There was a short pause before she settled upon an answer.

“Truth.”

“Are there any topics that are off-limits at this point?”

“No.”

“If I asked you a sexual question, would you answer?”

“Yes.”

“What if I asked you something really personal. Would you tell me?”

“Yes.”

“What if I asked about your fantasies?”

Again, that tiny pause, but her answer came strong and clear.

“I’d answer honestly.”

### Session 5:

“Wait, so you _will_ tell me where Marcie keeps her spare key?”

“Yes.”

“But you just said you wouldn’t.”

No answer. I guess that made sense; I hadn’t asked a question.

I was still figuring out how it all worked, but I was fairly sure I’d just made a breakthrough.

“Where does Marcie keep her spare key?”

“Under the pile of bricks beside the back door.”

Good to know.

Well, not really. I couldn’t imagine a situation where I’d ever be hanging out with Marcie without my sister around. But it was good to know that if she’d tell me in a specific circumstance, she’d tell me whenever she was under.

I wondered if everything worked like that.

“Would you ever let me drive your car?”

“No.”

“Okay,” I said, the gears in my mind quickly spinning. “What if you were stung in the eye by a bee, and I needed to take you to hospital?”

My sister’s allergic, and thinking about getting stung really freaks her out.

“Would you let me drive your car then?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I don’t have a license?”

“Yes,” she repeated, and I smiled.

“Okay. Let me drive your car.”

“Wow!” she said, blinking rapidly and hitting me with a grin. “That never gets old.”

Huh.

I didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but I felt like I was starting to get the hang of it.

### Session 29:

“What do you think about when you masturbate?”

“You.”

No hesitation. That was a good sign—before the shift in how she’d thought about me, I’d only been able to get this information through hypotheticals, but since we’d ‘bonded’ through the game of truth and dare, I was able to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.

If I could get her to admit something while she was in a hypothetical, she’d admit it whenever she was under. Any information she’d reveal hypothetically, she’d reveal any time she was hypnotized.

Unfortunately, actions don’t work like that—I was sure I could come up with a hypothetical that required my cock in her pussy, but unless I rebuilt those circumstances exactly, she’d never let it happen.

“What specifically?”

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

“What do you think about my cock?”

“I love it.”

To some extent, I knew all this…I mean, after all, I’d caused it. I wanted more—I wanted to push it further, to dig deeper. After all, she’d given me carte blanche. She’d said that she would answer sexual questions, no matter how personal. My confession about thinking about her while having sex with Marcie had opened the floodgates, and now her hidden desires were pouring out.

“Why do you love my cock so much?”

“Because it’s forbidden.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re my brother. I shouldn’t be lusting after you.”

Interesting.

Getting her to think about my cock whenever she came had tricky, but I’d managed it. Until now, I’d never really questioned _what_ about it turned her on.

I guess on some level I’d imagined she was thinking about the image but not what it meant, like she was just thinking about “a cock”, and it just happened to be the one belonging to her brother.

It made way more sense that she was coming at it from the same angle as me.

I desired Lucy and Mom so much because I couldn’t have them.

I mean, I was pretty sure I’d still want them _after_ I could have them…but before I’d discovered hypnosis, they’d been these unattainable beauties. I loved them, but that was irrelevant—I wanted them because I knew I shouldn’t.

For years I’d been telling myself it was nothing to do with them being related to me, it was just their bodies, but Lucy’s words made me realize the roots of my own desires.

I wanted them not _despite_ their relationship to me…but because of it.

“Does that turn you on?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

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

I smiled. I was so close to fucking my sister, I could taste it. She wanted me, and she (hypothetically) knew that I wanted her.

“How do you feel about me finding you sexy?”

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

### Session B37

“Okay Marcie,” I said, leaping straight into it. “Would you make out with Lucy if I told you to?”

Shake. That was disappointing—I thought I’d worked it out. Marcie was so obedient, so loyal; I was sure that her reluctance to make out with Lucy was because she didn’t want to disappoint or betray me.

Nope. I was no closer to working out why she’d do anything I commanded except make out with her best friend who she was clearly attracted to.

Now that I’d found out what they’d been talking about (me, and how good I was in bed—not gonna lie, that felt good) my priorities had shifted. I didn’t have anything particularly pressing to do with Marcie, and so I was determined to make a long-held fantasy come true, and get her together with my sister.

“Is there any circumstance under which you’d make out with Lucy?”

“Yes.”

I can’t believe I didn’t think of this last time. I’d spent twenty minutes trying different hypotheticals, when I could have just asked.

“Would you tell me what it is?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“If you and I weren’t together.”

I paused.

“What?”

“I would make out with Lucy if you and I weren’t sleeping together.”

“Why?”

“I think it’d be fun. She’s very attractive and I’ve been attracted to her for years.”

I rolled my eyes and clarified.

“Why won’t you make out with Lucy if you and I are sleeping together?”

“I think it’s weird to hook up with a brother and his sister at the same time.”

Not going to lie—that’s fair. What amused me was that it hadn’t come up when I asked my sister the same question.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Session 29:

“What would you say if I asked you…”

I paused, trying to work out how to phrase it. Then I decided to just go for gold—I was so excited by everything that was happening. At worst, I tried again later.

And again, and again, and again. I was closer than I’d ever been—even when my sister had been topless, my cum dripping from her nipples, I hadn’t felt this close.

“What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?”

“No.”

Made sense.

“What if we were drunk?”

“No.”

“What if we were really, really drunk?”

“No.”

I couldn’t tell if there was a pause before she answered, or if I was just being incredibly optimistic.

“Okay…hypothetical. It’s the night of Marcie’s funeral, and we’re really, really drunk.” Poor Marcie. She always gets the worst of my hypotheticals with Lucy. “Would you have sex with me then?”

“No.”

“What if I told you it was her dying wish?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

I sighed. I hadn’t really expected that to work, but…well, it would’ve been nice.

Glancing at the clock, I saw that there were only a few minutes left before I went over my self-imposed limit. I wanted to touch on her making out with Marcie again, but there was some other stuff I wanted to try first.

Not that the time limit was set in stone. I’d decided to limit myself as an act of caution, but if I hit gold, I was going to keep on exploring.

“Okay,” I said, giddy with everything that had been revealed so far in this session. “Hypothetical: Marcie tells you she wants to share.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: Marcie tells you that I’m so great in bed, you just _have_ to try me.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: Mom gets a form of cancer that can only be cured by her children having sex.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: aliens arrive, and tell you that we have to fuck.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

I froze, my mouth already half-open, ready to suggest the next ridiculous hypothetical.

Had…had Lucy just nodded? Had my sister just agreed to a hypothetical where…where incest wasn’t wrong?

No. That didn’t make any sense…I must have imagined it.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

“Uh…”

I paused.

“Okay. Hypothetical: we live in a world where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

“Would you fuck me?”

“Yes,” my sister replied, without a moment of hesitation.


	Chapter 5

My head was spinning. I’d made a ridiculous, impossible suggestion to my sister—a world in which incest wasn’t frowned-upon…and she’d accepted it as truth.

I could wake her up now and she’d believe that incest was normal. She’d think that a sister and brother being attracted to each other wasn’t a weird perversion, but a standard part of life.

And she’d fuck me.

I had to put the brakes on. I knew this was dangerous territory and that waking her up could…hell, I didn’t even know what it would do. Would her mind just adjust to any discrepancies between how she saw the world, and general societal opinion toward brother-sister fucking?

Or would it break her?

Even though I knew I was treading on thin ice, I couldn’t stop myself. I had to keep exploring, keep asking questions.

Over the next twenty minutes, I blew right past my standard time-limit, asking her every hypothetical I could. I asked her how she wanted to fuck me, and got her to describe it in great, dripping detail. Positions, scenarios…hell, even role-plays.

For almost half an hour, I sat there with the biggest boner of my life as my sister Lucy told me every way she wanted to fuck me, every way she wanted to suck the cum out of me. She told me about how she wanted to make out with Marcie just to turn me on, just to get better at it. She told me about her fantasies of being my sex slave, of dedicating her life, her body and her mind to getting me off.

I’ll tell you what—I’d thought _I_ was perverted, but now I knew it ran in the family. I suppose weeks of getting off while thinking about my cock had given Lucy plenty of time to think up a real smorgasbord of sexual situations, and this impossible scenario had uncorked the barrel.

But…was it impossible?

As my sister’s dirty words washed over me, my mind kept returning to that same question. What would happen if I brought her to the brink, woke her up with the idea that brother/sister relationships weren’t taboo after all?

Would she shut down…or would she open up?

You can’t make someone do anything under hypnosis that they don’t want to do. But my sister’s words, passion and imagination were all telling me the same thing:

This wasn’t something she didn’t want.

### Session A63:

The next day, Mom finally asked me to put her under again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when she did—even though she had no reason to suspect me of anything untoward, I hadn’t been able to shake the idea that she’d somehow managed to link hypnotism with the recent…changes in the household.

Her whole new wardrobe. Lucy (for a while, at least) following suit.

Me and Marcie hooking up.

Mom’s not stupid, and the recent incident with Marcie had told me that I’d been clumsy. I needed to do some damage control…but of course, until she’d come to me, I’d been too nervous to approach her.

It was a catch-22, or a vicious circle or whatever. Mom asking me solved it, but as I put her under, I reminded myself that I still had to tread carefully.

“Would you tell me if you’d noticed anything suspicious lately?”

“Yes.”

“Have you noticed anything suspicious lately?”

“Yes.”

Crap.

“Would you tell me what it is?”

“No.”

Great. Another rabbit for me to chase. Fortunately, by this point I was getting pretty good at it, and within a few minutes I had an oblique way of getting the information I needed from Mom.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything Lucy has been doing?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of anything Lucy has been doing?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of how Lucy has been acting?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of how Lucy has been acting?”

“No.”

That cleared my sister.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything you’ve been doing?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of anything you’ve been doing?”

“No.”

So it seemed that she wasn’t aware of any changes in her own behavior—still, I made a mental note to make sure to tidy up any loose ends that might attract her attention.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything I’ve been doing?”

“No.”

Ah ha.

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything between me and Lucy?”

“Yes.”

That was a good sign…still, just to be safe, I asked anyway.

“Are you suspicious of anything between me and Lucy?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of my behavior towards you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you suspicious of my behavior towards you?”

“No.”

Great. Safe on that front too. And so that just left the obvious…

“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of things between me and Marcie?”

“No.”

“Are you suspic—…”

I cut myself off before I finished the question that I’d almost asked on auto-pilot. For the next few minutes, we sat in silence as I thought.

Thought, and—if I’m being honest—stared.

Mom was wearing a thin grey singlet and no bra. Even a month ago, she would only have ever worn this underneath fifteen other layers…now, she was wearing it around the house without batting an eye. If she leaned the wrong way, she’d probably let a boob loose.

Believe me, it was extraordinarily tempting to test that. She probably wouldn’t even mind me staring—by this point, I had her thoroughly convinced that family members didn’t ever notice each other’s bodies.

No matter how mouth-wateringly curvy they are.

“Okay Mom,” I said eventually. So she wouldn’t talk about it directly with me—fortunately, I had more than enough ways to get around that.

“Hypothetical: you think I’m hooking up with Marcie.”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me how you feel about that?”

“No.”

“If you thought it was a good thing, then would you tell me how you felt about it?”

“Yes.”

I paused a moment, checking the wording of what I’d just said. Yup, that was pretty airtight. Mom wasn’t happy about me hooking up with my sister’s best friend.

The main roadblock I’d encountered with my mother so far was getting her to talk about sex. Once we got past that, I knew I’d be able to make more changes, push more limits.

As it was, every time the topic came up, she woke up. It was frustrating as hell…but maybe this new development was something I could use to make progress in that direction.

“Wait here.”

### Session A11:

“It’s nice when someone finds you attractive, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s nice when someone looks at your body, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“You like the feeling, don’t you?”

“I can’t believe how good that still feels. Don’t wait too long before the next session, will you?”

“Of course not, Mom.”

Walls. Walls at every turn.

### Session A63:

I’d never left a subject alone while they were under before, but I had an idea that couldn’t wait. Less than five minutes later I was back, a sheath of papers printed from the internet in my hand.

“Read these,” I said, and enjoyed the view of my mother’s huge, unrestrained boobs as her eyes darted back and forth over the information I’d provided.

Normally I’d have had her read them while she was awake (like when I got her to read the Bible) but I couldn’t work out any way of casually dropping a human sexuality textbook into my mother’s “to-read” pile.

“Would you tell me what they said?”

“…yes.”

Her hesitancy made sense, but I wasn’t worried. I’d printed out the fancy-looking cover of the textbook the pages came from, and my mother is a sucker for authority—if the President had rocked up and told her to fuck Lucy, I bet she would have done it without hesitation.

Actually…

No. I slapped the thoughts back. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought to follow.

“It’s a study on happiness. It shows that people who have sex more than three times each week are happier people.”

“Your son having sex with Marcie makes him happier, doesn’t it?”

“Y…yes,” she said. There was that hesitation again, but she pushed through.

Still, I took the pages away from her. If she woke up now, the printout would be another loose end that I didn’t want to clean up.

“It’s important that your family is happy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s important that your son is happy.”

“Yes.”

“You should do what you can to help your son be happy.”

“Yes.”

“It’s important that your son has regular sex, isn’t it?”

There was a long, long pause, and I was glad I’d hidden the papers. Just as I thought Mom was going to wake up, she answered.

“…yes.”

Progress! It may not have sounded like much, but this was by far the most conversation I’d ever had with my mother about sex.

“So it’s good for your son to hook up with Marcie, isn’t it?”

“No.”

I raised one eyebrow. Not the answer I’d been expecting.

“Would you tell me why not?”

“Yes.”

“Why isn’t it good for your son to hook up with Marcie?”

“Because she’s not good enough for him.”

Again, an answer out of left field.

“What?”

“Marcie isn’t good enough for him.”

“I…”

I paused. I genuinely hadn’t expected this train of thought.

“Would you tell me what you think of Marcie?”

“No.”

I smiled. This was an easy mental lock to pick.

“Would you tell me if you didn’t like Marcie?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you liked Marcie?”

“Yes.”

There we go.

### Session A12:

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever checked someone else out?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me who?”

“No.”

Of course.

### Session A63:

So Mom didn’t like Marcie. Interesting. I didn’t know what I could really do with that, but it was definitely interesting to know. But I wanted to press through, and take advantage of the fact that I’d gotten Mom talking about sex.

“You want the very best for me and Lucy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That means you want us to be happy, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want you and Lucy to be happy.”

“You want us to be as happy as possible, right?”

“Yes.”

“What did you just learn would make us happy?”

“People are happier when they have sex three or more times each week.”

Not so much as a pause. Amazing.

“So what should your children be doing to be more happy?

“Having sex three times or more each week.”

I choked down a burst of laughter.

“Say it.”

“My children should be having sex three times or more each week.”

I briefly considered taking advantage of her poor phrasing, but I knew it wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty amazing if it did though—it would probably be the first ever time that poor grammar led to incest.

“Do you think Lucy should find someone to have sex with?”

There was a long pause to that one. I didn’t want to risk ending the session, and so after ten seconds I jumped in.

“Let me rephrase. Do you think Lucy should have sex three or more times each week?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I should?”

“Yes.”

This was by far the most I’d managed to get my mother to talk about sex. Maybe I should have started printing out textbook pages for her earlier.

“So you think I should have sex three or more times each week, right?”

“Yes.”

“But not with Marcie, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said with a pause. “So what would be the best way to make everyone happy, including you?”

“If you found someone else to hook up with.”

I had a sudden thought, and leaned forward, excited.

“What if that person was _you_?

“I swear, it’s better than a massage. My headache is completely gone—thanks so much, kiddo.”

Yeah, okay. Didn’t really think that one through.

### Session A12:

“Would you tell me if you’ve ever been attracted to someone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

“Who else?”

“Thanks so much! You’re really getting good at this.”

God damn it, Mom. How did you become such a prude?

### Session A64:

The next morning, I woke my mother up for an early-morning session. It was a bit risky, after the abrupt ending last time I’d put her under, but she’d once told me that my hypnotism was “as good as sleep.” I knew she was incredibly busy for the next few days, and so if I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize her until the end of the week.

And it was obvious what I’d done wrong. I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

“Okay Mom.”

I paused. Not because I was at a loss for what to say next; just to enjoy the view. She was wearing her semitransparent nightgown again, and since she didn’t think I was attracted to her, I could blatantly check her out without it being an issue.

Those tits. Someday, I was going to see them without a layer of cloth in the way.

Some day, I was going to get my hands on them.

But not today. I’d learned from Lucy—sometimes you have to go backwards in order to go forwards, and that was what I had to do with Mom.

“Hypothetical: You think Marcie and I are hooking up.”

Nod.

“You think Marcie and I are having sex.”

Nod.

“You don’t think she’s good enough for me.”

Nod. My lip curled into a frown. I didn’t like that Mom didn’t like…well, not “my girlfriend” exactly, but…someone who was very important to me. And Lucy’s best friend, at that.

Still, this wasn’t the time to get caught up on that.

“You think I deserve someone better.”

Nod. I hesitated—I was fairly sure this path wasn’t going to work, but it was worth a try.

“Lucy also needs someone to hook up with, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Lucy is good enough for your son, isn’t she?”

There was a long pause, but to my surprise, Mom answered:

“Yes.”

I knew it was the phrasing that had let me get away with that, but I stored it away for future reference. Mom thought her children were good enough for each other—I was _sure_ there was something I could do with that.

“People are happier when they have sex three or more times each week, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Generally speaking, are you a happy person?”

“Yes.”

I knew that asking directly would just wake her up, but I was fairly confident I could skirt around the issue and get Mom talking about her sex life, at least in the abstract.

“You could be happier, couldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you do everything you can to be as happy as you can?”

“No,” Mom admitted, and—don’t ask me how—her monotone simultaneously managed to have a tone of warning and a note of sadness in it.

“Can you think of something specific you could do to be happier?”

“Yes.”

“What’s stopping you from doing it?”

“I…”

There was a slight pause, and I jumped in. I’d already woken Mom up by accident once, I didn’t want to do it twice in two days.

“Would you tell me what’s stopping you from doing it?”

Again, a slight pause, but this time it was followed by a firm “Yes.”

“What’s stopping you from doing it?”

“I don’t have a man in my life,” Mom admitted, her blank eyes staring straight at me.

### Session A12:

“Would you tell me if you like feeling sexy?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you like the attention of men?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if you ever admire yourself in a mirror?”

“No.”

Seriously?

### Session A64:

I sat back thoughtfully. There were a lot of paths in front of me, but none of them led anywhere obvious.

Realistically, I was still a _long_ way off doing anything sexual with Mom. I could barely get her to discuss sex, let alone run her long tongue up and down my…well, anything connected to me.

But at the rate things were going with Lucy, there was a chance—a remote one, but still a chance—that things would start getting steamier between us. And if nothing else, I needed to make sure that Mom didn’t catch us, or who knew _what_ would happen.

The image of her staring blankly at the family album popped back into my head, and I shuddered. That was something I knew I had to avoid at all costs.

Making sure Mom didn’t suspect anything…or freak out if she did. That was the order of the day.


	Chapter 6

### Session C8:

“Tell me what the article is about, Richard.”

“It said that…”

There was a pause, and for a moment I thought he was going to wake up. That would be awkward—I didn’t really want to implant a memory of me getting him to randomly read a sexuality textbook.

Fortunately, the hesitation passed, and he answered in a deep monotone that I was getting increasingly familiar with.

“…it said that the subjects’ happiness is increased when they had sexual intercourse more than twice each week.”

Richard is some kind of professor, so it doesn’t surprise me that he stated it more formally than my mother had. I was hoping that his academic background would also mean that he paid more heed to studies like the one I’d just had him read, but it could have gone either way.

Only one way to find out.

“Do you agree with those findings?” I asked, after getting him to hand the book back.

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

“Why?”

“The data is there, plus…well, it makes sense.”

Great.

“Do you have sex more than twice each week, Richard?”

“Thanks so much for that—I don’t really know why it helps, but it does.”

Fuck. Eight sessions in and this was the first time I’d accidentally woken him up early. It was my own fault, of course, but still—I’d gotten so good at this.

At least I’d finally found something I could use.

### Session A64:

“Would you tell me why you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“No.”

I was sure that answering that question would unlock a lot of doors.

“Would you…would you tell Lucy why you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“No.”

“Would you tell Marcie?”

“No.”

Made sense. Luce and Mom are close, but they aren’t exactly giggling besties and I had already established that for whatever reason, Mom didn’t like Marcie

“Would you tell me if there’s anyone you would tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children to?”

Whew. What a mouthful. But she answered straight away.

“Yes.”

“Is there anyone you would tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me who?”

“Yes.”

“Who would you tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”

“Other parents.”

Interesting.

Not, of course, that there was anything I could particularly do with that. But it was definitely interesting.

I wanted to fuck my mother. Believe me, if you met her, you’d understand. And if you’d seen her the way I had—doing laundry in her panties, watching TV in a sexy teddy that I’d ordered online and added to her wardrobe…you’d want to fuck her too.

But right now, that wasn’t the priority. Right now, I wanted her to be okay with me and Lucy fucking. Or at least…not notice.

“Okay,” I said. “You want to avoid talking about sex with your children, right?”

“Yes.”

“So if you walked in on one of your children having sex…”

I paused, but Mom showed no signs of waking up.

“…you would have to talk to them about it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to avoid walking in on your children having sex, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“So if they’re in a room with the door closed, what will you do?”

“Knock before I come in.”

Damn. I mean, that was obviously better, but what I really wanted was for her to avoid the door entirely. If—fingers crossed—I managed to get Lucy in bed in the next week, I wanted to make sure that Mom wasn’t going to knock and ruin everything. I wanted Mom to stay away.

Well, honestly, I wanted Mom to join in…but I wasn’t there yet, I knew that.

“Okay,” I said after a moment’s thought. “You want your children to be happy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And your children will be happier if they’re having sex three or more times each week, won’t they?”

“Yes.”

“If your children have their door closed, they might be having sex. Right?”

“Yes.”

Bit of a pause, but we got there.

“If you knock, they’re going to stop having sex, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

A longer pause that time, but nothing worth worrying about.

“So if you knock on your children’s closed doors, you might be stopping them from having sex. Right?”

“Yes.”

“If you’re knocking on your children’s doors, you’re stopping them from being happy. Is that correct?”

This time, a significantly longer pause, but it wasn’t long before the answer came through clearly.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to stop your children from being happy?”

“No.”

“What will you do if your children’s bedroom doors are closed?”

“Nothing.”

“Will you knock on the doors of your children’s bedrooms if they’re closed?”

“No.”

Good. Now, of course, I just had to see if the change in attitude transferred to real life.

### Session A171:

“What does it mean if your children’s bedroom door is closed?”

“They’re having sex.”

“And what will you do if your children’s bedroom doors are closed?”

“Press my ear up against it.”

“Why?”

“In the hope that I…”

There was a long pause, but I’d learned a while ago that with Mom, I just had to push through it.

“…in the hope that I can hear them.”

### Session A64:

I considered waking her up, but I had a few more minutes on the clock, and one last thing I wanted to check.

“It’s important that your children are happy, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

It could be argued that I was over-relying on the one theme, but…well, it was so effective. Maybe because it’s such a primal urge, or maybe because it’s something that’s always on a single mother’s mind, or maybe just because of the way Mom is built, but starting from a point of “your children’s happiness” was just so reliable.

“People who have sex three or more times each week are happier, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Your children should be having sex three or more times each week, shouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

I loved hearing her say that.

“But they can only be doing that if they know about it, can’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Your son knows about it already from the textbook, doesn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“But Lucy doesn’t know, does she?”

There was a brief silence before Mom’s soft monotone gave the answer.

“No.”

“Someone needs to tell her, don’t they?”

Again, a silence—much longer this time. I wasn’t worried though; we weren’t in the middle of a hypothetical, and so Mom waking up wasn’t a total disaster.

“Yes.”

“You and I are the only ones who know about it. Who do you think it should be?”

I was genuinely curious to hear the answer to this one. For whatever reason, Mom didn’t like talking to us about sex, but I could hardly imagine her recommending I tell my sister she needed to get laid more.

The pause stretched on, but Mom showed no signs of waking up. Finally, she answered.

“Me.”

My lips curled in triumph. Apparently Mom’s refusal to talk about sex didn’t apply when her children’s happiness was in the way.

Keep in mind, I had no idea if she was actually going to follow through on this. I can sort of change attitudes, but slowly drifting someone awake during a hypothetical was the only way to directly alter my subjects’ minds.

And that was certainly achievable. I could easily concoct a hypothetical situation where she’s being hypnotized by me (true) and wakes up with a burning desire to tell Lucy the new facts she’s learned about sex and happiness…but I wasn’t really sure if it was worth it.

After all, it was information that I could just give Lucy directly, and I don’t really know what the benefits of my sister hearing it from Mom would be. It might make Mom suspicious, it might make her question the hypnosis generally…and, of course, Lucy might notice something was up. Mom hasn’t talked to us about sex for our entire lives, so her suddenly rocking up and going “Hey, make sure you get laid on a weekly basis!” was sure to raise suspicions.

I ended up just waking her up without any orders to talk to my sister about what she’d learned. Still, it was good to know that her children’s well-being seemed to trump her restrictions on talking about sex…

### Session 30:

“Hypothetical: we live in a word where incest isn’t wrong.”

Nod.

I still couldn’t believe it. It was tempting to spend another half-hour (or more) just listening to Lucy talk about all the things we could be doing, everything that she’d spent the last few weeks fantasizing about…

But I know that road, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Listening to my sister’s soft monotone describe all nature of sexual acts would be fun, but wouldn’t get me any closer to the real goal— _doing_ them.

“Okay. New hypothetical: you have a dream in which incest is normal.”

Nod.

“You dream that you’re allowed to fuck your family members without any judgement, that you can have sex with your brother and no one thinks there’s anything weird about it.”

Nod.

“You wake up horny and disappointed.”

Nod.

“The next night, you have that dream again.”

Nod.

“And the next night, and the next night.”

Nod.

“Every night, you dream that you’re allowed to fuck your brother, that you and him do every sexual act you’ve been dreaming of…”

Nod.

“And every morning, you wake up soaking wet.”

Nod.

“Every morning, you play with yourself at the images from your dreams.”

Nod.

“You cum, thinking about your brother fucking you, thinking about sucking his cock, taking him in your ass. You get yourself off thinking about how wrong it is, about how sick you must be for thinking about it.”

Nod.

“More than anything, you want that dream to be real. Whenever you cum, you feel dirty…and turned on by how dirty you are for having these fantasies.”

Nod.

Damn, sis.

As you can imagine, I was hard as a rock, and the change in my sister’s breathing told me that she was getting pretty worked up as well. I so badly wanted to tell her to take her top off, get her to lick my dick until I came in her mouth…but I couldn’t.

What had quickly become my favorite way to cum was now off-limits, at least until I got my sister to the next stage.

Whatever that was.

“More than anything, you want to fuck your brother.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“More than anything, I want to fuck my brother.”

I sighed.

The temptation was still there. I wanted to wake her up thinking that the world of her dreams was reality. I wanted to wake her up, strip her off, and sink myself into my sister’s wet, willing pussy. I wanted to latch onto her perfect breasts and suck her nipples while she rode my cock…but I couldn’t.

Not yet. Not until I knew what would happen.

### Session B37:

“Okay,” I said, after briefly pausing for thought. “The only situation in which you’d hook up with Lucy is if you and I weren’t sleeping together.”

No response. Not that I particularly expected one—I hadn’t asked a question, after all. My mind was just rolling the information around, seeing what I could come up with.

“What if…”

My eyes slowly widened as an idea struck me.

At first, Marcie had been a testing ground—someone for me to try stuff out on before using it on my sister. Now, of course, she meant a lot more to me…but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t also be a place to test new ideas.

“Hypothetical,” I said cautiously, as if afraid I was going to break her.

“You live in a world where hooking up with a brother and sister at the same time isn’t weird.”


	Chapter 7

### Session 30:

“Would you tell me what you think of my relationship with Marcie?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of my relationship with Marcie?”

“I think it’s great.”

“Would you tell me why?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you think my relationship with Marcie is great?”

“Marcie is really fun and cute, and she really likes you.”

“Are you jealous at all?”

Pause.

“Would you tell me if you were jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Are you jealous?”

Again, that pause. This time, however, I knew to wait it out.

“Yes.”

“Why are you jealous?”

“Because…”

There was another long silence, and I decided to play it safe.

“Would you tell me why you’re jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you jealous?”

“Because I…because I want to be a part of it.”

Interesting phrasing.

“Do you want to sleep with your brother?”

“Yes.”

Wait, what? That was…way too easy. We weren’t in a hypothetical, we weren’t in a world where incest was normal—we were in the real world, and she’d just said she would sleep with me.

I thought for a second, and then realized how I’d phrased the question.

“Would you ever sleep with your brother?”

“No.”

“But do you want to?”

“Yes.”

I heard once that the only way to get someone to do something is to make them _want_ to do it, so hey, this revelation wasn’t something I was going to complain about.

But the way she’d worded her desire…she wanted to be “a part of it”. I felt like I was missing something.

“Do you want to sleep with Marcie?”

Her response was so quiet I barely heard it.

“…yes.”

I grinned. Now, the million-dollar question.

“Do you want to sleep with your brother and Marcie at the same time?”

Again, the pause, and again the quiet response.

“Yes.”

### Session B38:

“You live in a world where hooking up with a brother and sister at the same time isn’t weird.”

Shake.

Damn. For some reason, I thought that would work.

Actually…why _had_ I thought that would work?

I got Marcie to give me head while I thought about it. 

In my mind, she would immediately have agreed to that hypothetical; she’d have nodded, I could have woken her up, and I soon would have had some idea of how effective making a ridiculous hypothetical come true was.

Just as I was about to cum (sucking cock is something that Marcie is particularly skilled at), I realized why I’d thought she would agree to it immediately, despite its far-fetched nature:

Because Lucy had.

Lucy had agreed to the ridiculous hypothetical I’d posed to her; the idea of a world where incest wasn’t taboo. I hadn’t had to coax her into it; the moment I’d suggested it, she’d nodded.

As Marcie silently swallowed my seed, my mind briefly went blank, but when I regained focus, I realized what the difference was.

Lucy’s fantasies had been long and detailed. The idea of being _allowed_ to fuck me was clearly something she’d been thinking about for a while—that hypothetical hadn’t come out of nowhere, it was something that she’d been building up for a while now.

All I had to do was alter Marcie’s fantasies…which was, of course, something that I’d gotten good at.

“Okay,” I said, and Marcie sat up with a blank expression, ready to listen and obey. “Hypothetical…

“You’re having a sexy dream.”

Nod.

“In this dream, you’re going down on Lucy.”

Nod.

“…while I fuck you from behind.”

Pause.

I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it again—worst-case scenario, she wakes up thinking she had a dream about going down on Lucy.

After a long silence, a tremor went through her whole body, a pulse of arousal. I was sure she was going to wake up.

Instead, she moved her head—so slightly I almost didn’t notice it.

Nod.

I grinned.

“The next night, you have a similar dream. This time, you and Lucy are both blowing me at the same time…”

Pause.

Tremor.

Nod.

### Session B39:

“Would you tell me what you dreamed about last night, Marcie?”

“Yes.”

No surprise there. Marcie hadn’t kept a secret from me in a long time.

“What did you dream about?”

“I dreamed…I dreamed that you had tied me up, and your sister was torturing me by sucking on my nipples. I dreamed that she had another mouth on her knee, and was licking my clit while she sucked on my nipples, and then you came inside me and I burst into a thousand pieces but you called me your perfect little slut and I came back together again…”

Marcie’s dreams can get a little weird, but the gist of it was there. Three days ago I’d told her to have recurring dreams about threesomes with me and Lucy, and it sounded like it was working.

Now, the next step.

“Okay Marcie, hypothetical: we live in a world where it’s not weird to hook up with a brother and his sister at the same time.”

Shake.

Wait.

What?

### Session B43:

“What does my sister taste like?”

“I don’t know.”

I rolled my eyes. Duh, Marcie.

It wasn’t her fault, of course. When people are under, they’re extremely literal, and Marcie was pretty distracted at that moment. Every time I slid into her, she briefly had trouble breathing, but my questions never let up.

“What do you think she tastes like?”

“Sweet,” she gasped in monotone. “Sweet, and a little bit tangy.”

“Do you like the taste?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think you will?”

“I don’t know.”

I thrust forward and my entire length entered her. Even through the trance, she gasped.

“But…I can’t wait to find out.”

### Session B39:

“Okay,” I said, sitting back thoughtfully. Maybe I needed to build up to it. “Hypothetical: we live in a world where…”

How on earth do you slowly build up to sleeping with a pair of siblings? I had a lot riding on the answer to that question.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where you can make out with a brother and a sister in the same night, and no one will judge you.”

Nod. Okay, great. Baby steps.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where it isn’t weird to date one sibling after you’ve dated the other.”

Nod.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where you can date a pair of siblings at the same time.”

Shake.

Dang it. What was I missing?

I thought back to when I’d come up with the scenario that my sister had unexpectedly agreed to. In that instance, I’d been coming from the opposite end—weirder scenarios.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where people have curtains for heads.”

Shake. Good.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where Richard Nixon is married to every woman on earth.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where metronomes cause blizzards.”

Shake.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where it’s not weird to hook up with a brother and a sister at the same time.”

Shake.

God damn. For the first time since I’d started these sessions, things were actually going _easier_ with my sister.

### Session 31:

“Okay. Hypothetical: you have a sex dream about me.”

Nod. I wasn’t expecting anything different, of course—after all, this was reality. I couldn’t even remember how long my sister had been having sex dreams about me now—sometimes I’d get up in the middle of the night and stand outside my sister’s room.

That sounds creepy, but I would just listen. It didn’t happen often, but occasionally I’d hear a soft moan. It was so fucking hot, knowing that she was in her bed, dreaming about me, turned on, wishing I was in her bed.

“In this dream, you’re naked, and I’m fully clothed.”

Nod.

See here’s the thing: I was on the verge of a breakthrough, I just knew it. And so I’d got to thinking…having sex with my sister would be amazing, of course. It’d be something I’d dreamed about for literally years now, something I’d been working towards for 31 sessions (and counting).

But it wasn’t _everything_ I’d dreamed of.

Fucking my sister would be amazing, and if that was all I ever got to do, I’m sure it would be great.

…but why stop there?

My fantasies weren’t _just_ of cumming inside my sister. That was obviously a big part of them, but my wildest fantasies included so much more. I didn’t just want to get off with my sister.

I wanted to _own_ her.

So, while I waited for Marcie to dream about screwing the both of us, while I made sure that my plan would work, I decided to take things one step further.

“You’re kneeling in front of me. I’m standing above you dominantly, and something tells you that this is your place. This is where you belong.”

Nod.

If I could change my sister’s reality to one where a brother and sister can have sex, why not take it one step further? Why not create a reality where sisters are devoted to their brother’s sexual satisfaction?

Why not transform my sister into everything I’d always dreamed of—a dedicated servant who spent all her time working out different ways to get me off?

It was within my grasp; I felt like I’d be a fool not to go for it.

“Do you like this dream?”

“Yes.”

Lucy answered in the same monotone as she always did, so perhaps I was imagining it, but I felt like there was a a slight breathiness to her response.

“You like being submissive, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You like the feeling of being my own personal slut, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I like the feeling of being your own personal slut.”

“You want to be your brother’s slave, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want to be my brother’s slave.”

### Session B39:

I was tempted to get Marcie to go down on me again while I thought, but I wanted to keep a clear head. I kept running into some invisible wall, over and over, and I couldn’t work out why.

Lucy had agreed to a hypothetical world where incest wasn’t wrong. She’d agreed to it without hesitation, and then when I’d probed further, it was obviously something she’d thought about in great detail.

Giving Marcie recurring dreams about sleeping with the two of us hadn’t worked—I’d been hoping that by putting the images clearly in her mind, it would result in an easier acceptance of the hypothetical…but that hadn’t worked either.

So what was the difference?

### Session 31:

“The next night, you dream about being a sex toy for your brother.”

Nod.

“You dream that your sole function is to get him hard and get him off. During the day, you wait around the house, and when he gets home you greet him naked and do everything you can to please him.”

Nod. My dick was threatening to burst out of my pants, and my sister’s breathing was getting faster. Maybe she had a submissive streak already, or maybe she was living the dream as I described it, imagining herself asleep and getting wet at the images racing through her mind.

“Whenever he wants to cum, what will you do?”

“Present myself to him.”

“Whenever he wants to get off, what’s your job?”

“To get him off.”

“Do you like the dream?”

“Yesssss.”

“Do you want it to come true?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“So much.”

### Session B39:

“Hypothetical!” I said. A thought had just struck me. “You have a sex dream about me and Lucy.”

Nod.

“Do you like the dream?”

There was a brief pause, but her answer was clear.

“No.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Yes.”

“But do you want it to come true?”

“No.”

There it was. There was the difference. She was having these dreams…but they were just that. Dreams.

They weren’t fantasies.

Lucy had fantasized about a world in which she could fuck me, a world in which she could have guilt-free access to my cock. I’d given Marcie the visions, the dreams…but I hadn’t given her the desire.

With a sigh, I cleared the hypothetical and started again. It would be a lot of the same imagery, a lot of the same ideas…but this time, I had to make her want it.

### Session C9:

“You would be happier if you had sex three times a day, wouldn’t you?”

“Possibly. It would depend.”

What? That wasn’t what I’d expected. 

It took me a few seconds to realize what I’d said.

“A week. You would be happier if you had sex three times each week, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

I mean, I’m sure he’d be happier having sex three times a day as well, but that…well, actually, maybe I could make that happen.

Baby steps, though. Baby steps.


	Chapter 8

### Session B48:

“What do you think about when you masturbate?”

“You.”

“What else?”

“…Lucy.”

“What specifically?”

“Fucking you…fucking you while Lucy licks me out. Going down on Lucy while you fuck me.”

“Do you want to fuck me and my sister at the same time?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“A lot.”

“What do you want to do the most?”

“I…”

Marcie groaned and shuddered, and I could feel her cumming around my cock.

“I want to feel you in my ass while Lucy licks my pussy.”

It had taken a while to get there, but I’d done it.

### Session B39:

If you can slowly wake someone up during a hypothetical, they’ll think that whatever hypothetical you were just discussing is real.

There’s two parts to it: first of all, they have to believe the hypothetical you’re giving them. If they haven’t got any political aspirations, you can’t claim that they’ve been voted the president of the world and expect them to believe it. If they have low self-esteem, they’re not going to buy a scenario in which they’re an internationally famous lingerie model.

But I’d managed to get Marcie into bed (and Mom walking around the house mostly-naked) by going back years, and slowly tweaking their memories over time.

The second part requires a question that they don’t know the answer to. And I don’t mean something like “What’s the capital of Bolivia”—I mean a moral question, a true dilemma. If your best friend’s only chance of having children was to sleep with your wife, would you let them? Maybe that’s an easy one for you, but you get the idea.

And so the plan was simple; I wanted Marcie to _want_ to sleep with me and Lucy at the same time. The best way to do that?

Make it so that she’d _always_ wanted to.

### Session B49:

“When we’re having sex, what do you think about?”

“How much better it would be if Lucy was involved as well.”

“When you’re hanging out with Lucy, what do you think about?”

Marcie’s eyes rolled back in her head for a second—I had inadvertently overwhelmed her. A few twitches later, she resumed her glassy stare, her monotone thick with lust.

“How much I want to touch her…taste her. How much I want to fuck her while you fuck me. How much I want her. How much I want you. How much I want both of you…at the same time.”

I smiled. It had only taken a week: she was ready.

It was time.

### Session B40:

“What did you think of me and Lucy when we first met?”

“I thought you were cute, and that Lucy was cool.”

“Did you find Lucy attractive?”

“Yes.”

“Did you think she was sexy?”

“No.”

“Okay, hypothetical: when you met me and Lucy for the first time, Lucy was in a bikini”

Nod.

“You think she’s sexy.”

Nod.

“You think we’re both sexy.”

Nod.

“You’re particularly turned on that day…”

Nod.

“…and when you first meet us, you can’t stop thinking about what an attractive pair we are.”

Nod.

### Session B41:

“You love that we’re a sexy brother and sister pair.”

Nod.

### Session B42:

“You sometimes fantasize about fucking both of us at once.”

Nod.

### Session B43:

“What do you think she tastes like?”

“Sweet. Sweet, and a little bit tangy.”

### Session B44:

“Sleeping with a brother and sister has been a recurring dream since you’ve been a kid.”

Nod.

“When you met me and Lucy, you realized that you’d finally met a pair of siblings you could live out your fantasy with.”

Nod.

### Session B45:

“It’s become an obsession, hasn’t it?”

“Yessss…”

I moved my finger from her pussy to my mouth, and tasted her juices with a grin.

“Hypothetical: you ask me if it’s something I’ve ever thought about.”

Marcie, in an unusual act of rebellion, closed her eyes. I moved my hand back between her legs—I discovered a few sessions back that bringing her to the brink of orgasm can be great for shifting those tricky limits. When she’s right on the edge, her logical brain seems to shut down a bit, and she follows…well, she follows her pussy.

### Session B46:

“What kind of porn do you watch?”

“Videos of threesomes.”

“What kind of threesomes?”

“Two girls and one guy.”

“Be more specific. What kind of threesome videos?”

“Videos where one girl looks like—uh! Looks like me. And the other two…”

She shuddered in orgasm. Whoops. I’d have to get her worked up again.

Fortunately, with Marcie that wasn’t hard.

Despite being interrupted by a climax, she surprised me by finishing her thought.

“…and the other two look like siblings.”

### Session B47:

“What’s your favourite comic book movie?”

“The Fantastic 4.”

“Why?”

“I like to imagine Sue and Johnny using their powers to seduce a cheerleader.”

Believe it or not, that’s not one I implanted. I just gave her the fetish—Marcie’s imagination did the rest.

“What’s your favourite book?”

“A Game of Thrones.”

“Why?”

“I like to imagine Cersei and Jaime hiring a prostitute to join them.”

“What’s your favourite film?”

“High Fidelity.”

“Why?”

“I like to imagine Rob and Laura invite Liz to a threesome.”

I don’t think Joan actually plays John Cusack’s sister in that film, but I let it slide.

### Session B49:

“Okay…”

I took a deep breath. This was it: the moment of truth.

“Hypothetical: we live in a world where it isn’t weird to sleep with a brother and sister at the same time.”

Nod.

I pumped my fist in celebration. I’d done it!

What now?

I could just wake her up—over the last ten or so sessions, I’d gotten really good at waking her up mid-hypothetical. But should I fill out this one, or leave it vague?

This was, after all, the big test. If this worked on Marcie, it’d work on Lucy…and if it worked on Lucy, then I could give her a hypothetical where brothers and sisters can do it, and before nightfall I’d be balls-deep in my sister.

At last.

No, better to fill it out a bit.

“Okay,” I repeated, and thought for a moment. “Hypothetical: we live in a world where it isn’t weird to sleep with a brother and sister at the same time.”

Nod.

“You want to sleep with me and Lucy.”

Nod.

“At the same time.”

Nod.

“But you don’t want to be too forward.”

Nod.

I hadn’t yet got my sister on-board with this. I mean, if this worked…if this worked, I’d be fucking my sister in no time. But if Marcie went straight into her room and asked if the three of us could do the no-pants dance, she was…yeah, she was likely to be a tiny bit suspicious.

“You really, really want to have sex with both of us at once…”

Nod. A fervent nod, at that.

“…but you know that it’d be best if I made the first move.”

Nod. Unconditional servitude was something I’d programmed into Marcie a while back, and I was glad that this new reality wasn’t overriding it.

“So even though it’s normal to sleep with a brother and sister at the same time, you’ll wait until I suggest it.”

Nod.

“Any, uh…any questions?”

Shake. I’d never asked any of my subjects that before; I’m not really sure what I would have done if she’d had one.

“Okay,” I said with a smile. “What would you do if I told you to sleep with your father?”

“I’d say yes.”

### Session B47:

“What would you do if I told you to sleep with your father?”

“I’d…”

There was a long pause.

“I’d…”

Suddenly, the vacant look disappeared from Marcie’s eyes. She blinked twice, and focused on my face.

“Hey, lover,” she said, slightly disoriented. “Did you just ask me something?”

### Session B46:

“I’d…oh, hey sexy. What were we just talking about?”

### Session B45:

“I’d…I’d…whew! Not sure what just happened there. I think I spaced out for a moment.”

“No worries, sexy.”

Marcie’s look of confusion faded, and she shot me a grin.

“Sexy? Keep talking like that, I might have to thank you properly…”

### Session B44:

“I’d…I’d…oh! Sorry. I was somewhere else.”

“That’s okay. How are you feeling?”

“Great!”

“That’s great. Hey, I was thinking—would you mind if I hypnotized you?”

“Not at all.”

### Session B43:

“I’d…”

I waited patiently, and sure enough, soon she was blinking at me like a newborn fawn.

“I am so sorry. Where were we?”

“I was about to take you,” I growled, and her eyes lit up with arousal. “Get naked. Now.”

### Session B42:

“Oh wow, I was in another world.”

### Session B41:

“I totally lost track of time.”

### Session B40:

“I totally zoned out.”

### Session B39:

“Sorry love, I’m really spacy today.”

What a strange time to use the L-word for the first time.

“Not a problem. Hey, maybe it’d help if I hypnotized you.”

“Oh, sure! We haven’t done that for a few days now. It’s always so relaxing…”

### Session B49:

“Um, what?”

No response. I silently counted to ten and asked again.

“What would you do if I told you to fuck your father?”

“I’d say yes.”

That wasn’t really what I was expecting.

“Do you want to fuck your father?”

“Not particularly.”

“So why would you?”

“Because if I said no, you might not let me have sex with you and Lucy.”

Well, crap. I’d somehow managed to gain _too much_ power over Marcie.

This was solvable. This was totally solvable.

“What would you do if I told you to fuck your father, and love every second of it?”

“I’d say yes.”

“What if I told you to let your father take your ass?”

“I’d do it.”

“What if…”

I wracked my brain. I hadn’t foreseen this in the slightest.

### Session B1:

Marcie’s eyes glazed over, and I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no reason it wouldn’t work, of course—I used the exact same technique that I’d used on Lucy and my Mom, but still. A part of me had been worried that it would only work on direct family members, or women with certain genes, something random like that.

I just sat there for a few minutes, watching Marcie slowly breathe in and out, looking directly at me with her glassy stare. Marcie’s been one of my sister’s friends for a few years now—we’ve never really had much cause to interact, and until Lucy mentioned that she thought I was cute, I guess I’d never really thought about her?

It’s like…if you live with a master chef, you don’t waste your time checking out the burger place next door.

But Lucy, true to her word, had asked Marcie if she wanted to come around and teach me to kiss. We’d spent the last hour making out, and then we’d been chatting and giggling when I told her I was practicing hypnosis.

Marcie took the bait straight away, and now I had her.

Not that I particularly wanted her, if I’m being honest. Like, don’t get me wrong—there’s nothing wrong with her, but she was just a means to an end—a step on the path to taking Lucy and my mother, making them my own personal sex slaves.

Sure, I guess Marcie might also join the harem I was building in my mind, but that was just a bonus.

In the meantime, she was going to be super useful to practice on.

“Okay,” I said with a smile. “Marcie, can you hear me?”

“Mmm?”

“Take your top off.”

“You were totally right—that _was_ fun. Of course, what we were doing earlier was pretty fun as well…”

As I grinned back at her and moved my mouth towards her, I made a note. Marcie was definitely a bit of a slut, but not as much as I’d guessed.

### Session B49:

“Take your top off.”

Marcie obeyed without hesitation, of course. That wasn’t part of my plan—I just liked playing with her tits while I thought. That was the great thing about working with Marcie—even if she woke up now, she wouldn’t question why her top was off.

It had been a while since Marcie had questioned anything. That was normally a blessing, but now it was a problem.

“What would you do if I told you to seduce your mother?”

“I’d say yes.”

Slightly more of a pause that time, but still not enough to be helpful.

“What would you do if…”

As my hands tugged and pulled at her nipples, my mind was racing. What on earth wouldn’t this slut do?

### Session B2:

“What would you do if I told you to take your top off?”

“I’d refuse.”

“Okay,” I said, after a moment of thought. I could just run the Johnny Depp hypothetical—it’d worked on my sister, I had no doubt it’d work on Marcie too. But there was no point in just doing stuff with Marcie that I already knew worked: Marcie had exactly one use to me, and that was working out how to get the hang of this whole hypnosis thing.

Well, two uses. Experimentation and sex.

### Session B3:

“Hypothetical: we’re in my bedroom, making out.”

Nod.

“We’ve been making out for a few months now.”

Nod. I’d spent the last session exploring a few variations of this. Turns out that Marcie isn’t really after anything serious; she’s focusing on her studies at the moment, and so she’s just after something casual…which was obviously fine by me.

The only girls I wanted something serious with were the two who shared my DNA.

“I ask you to take your top off. What do you say?”

“Jack!” she said, and I jumped at the flirty way she said my name. “You know I’m not that kind of girl.”

I sat in silence for a few seconds.

“Hypothetical: we’ve been making out for an hour.”

Nod.

“You’re super turned on.”

Nod. That was easy.

“…and I ask you take your top off. What do you say?”

“Jack,” she moaned, but this time I was expecting the change of tone. “I shouldn’t…”

“I tell you that it’d really turn me on. What do you do?”

“I take my top off.”

I grinned.

“Take your top off.”

As more of Marcie’s olive skin came into view, my cock began to rise. I was going to enjoy Marcie.

### Session B4:

“What do you say?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering as her hand slowly pumped my cock. “…oh fuck, yes.”

It was almost too easy.

“Suck my cock,” I said, and the words were barely out of my mouth before her mouth closed over my sensitive head.

### Session B6:

“What would you say if I asked if I could fuck you?”

“Nope.”

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

“While you suck my cock, I want you to play with yourself…but you’re not allowed to cum until I do, okay?”

“Gotcha,” she said in a monotone, pulling her panties down. As she slipped my cock in her mouth, I shut my eyes and thought of Lucy.

### Session B49:

My head snapped up as I had a thought.

“Marcie,” I said, tweaking her hard nipples. “What would you say if I told you to get knocked up?”

“Okay,” she said without hesitation.

“What would you say if I told you to get knocked up by your father?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but it was like she glitched out—she sat there for almost a minute, twitching slightly, her mouth continuing to gape. Finally, she blinked twice, and looked at me, a puzzled look on her face.

“I’d…sorry, what?”

Her eyes flicked down to what my hands were doing to her chest, and she shot me a saucy grin.

“Oh!”

Within a few seconds, she’d undone my fly and my cock was halfway down her throat.

I’d done it! Now…to see if it had worked.


	Chapter 9

After casually quizzing her to see if the suggestion had stuck, it had been a bit of effort to kick Marcie out.

After she’d swallowed my seed down, she’d wanted me to fuck her. I claimed to be out of condoms, ignored her (admittedly tempting) offer to go bareback in her ass, and sprinted up the stairs to Lucy’s room.

“Lucy!” I called through the door, but there was no answer. I opened the door, but she wasn’t home.

Unbelievable. I finally crack the code that lets me turn my sister into my own personal sex slave, and she’s not around to be turned.

After a few minutes of hunting, I found Mom in the back yard, hanging out the laundry.

“Hey kiddo,” she said, and I paused briefly to admire the silk robe she’d inexplicably decided to put on as soon as she got home. As usual, she didn’t even register my lustful gaze.

“You seen Lucy?”

“She’s out tonight, remember? She’s seeing the hip-hop.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that—Mom actually does a half-decent job of keeping up with the music Lucy and I like, but no matter who’s playing, she always calls it “the hip-hop”. She smiled at my reaction, and as she turned back to the pile of washing, her robe slipped slightly, revealing one of her thick brown nipples.

I was immediately hard as a rock.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya,” Mom said casually, and I sprinted to the front of the house. With Lucy out all night, I wasn’t going to be able to try anything there, and—despite my best efforts—I was no closer to getting one of Mom’s incredible nipples in my mouth than I had been when we started.

And that just left Marcie. If I ran, I might be able to catch her before she left.

### Session 32:

“Okay, hypothetical: you live in a world where incest between brothers and sisters isn’t weird.”

Nod.

“It’s also normal for sisters to be their brother’s sex slaves.”

Nod. Jesus, Lucy. I was tempted to wake her up right then and there, screw the consequences.

I didn’t, of course. I was pretty sure everything was going to be fine with Marcie, but I wanted to be sure before I took any chances. And so in the meantime I was just practicing the perfect scenario, the exact hypothetical that I’d give her before waking her up…and changing our lives forever.

“Mom’s upbringing means that she thinks it’s strange, so it’s something that needs to be kept secret from her…”

Nod.

“…but you secretly wish that she was included as well.”

Nod.

“You want your mother to be your brother’s sex slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I want my mother to be my brother’s sex slave.”

### Session B50:

“Marcie? Marcie, can you hear me?”

I hadn’t managed to catch her driving away, but I was so worked up that I’d decided it was worth the hike over to Marcie’s house. Sure, I could have waited for Lucy to get home, but I had a willing fucktoy waiting…no, _begging_ for me to take her.

And it wasn’t like when Lucy and I finally did the nasty, I was going to have trouble getting it up.

Half an hour later I was out the front of Marcie’s place. Her car was out the front but no one answered the door. Figuring she might not have heard the doorbell, so I popped around the back, grabbed the spare key, and within ninety seconds I was up the stairs and in Marcie’s room.

That’s where I’d found her, tears running down her face, staring at the computer in front of her, looking like she was struggling to breathe. My heart leapt to my throat as I called out, but she completely ignored the sound of my voice…until I began putting her under.

Within a minute, the tears had stopped, and she was staring straight ahead, that familiar blank look on her face.

“Marcie?”

She didn’t answer.

### Session A64:

“Okay Mom: hypothetical.”

Almost everything was ready. I was only a few sessions away from testing the “sex with a brother and sister was normal” scenario with Marcie, Lucy was all set to become the sex slave I’d been fantasizing she’d be for so, so long…

It was all going to plan. Except, of course, for my mother.

“Lucy’s door is closed.”

Nod.

Only hooking up with my sister while my mother wasn’t around…well, I mean, obviously that sounded amazing, but I didn’t want to stop there. I wanted constant, unfettered access to my sister’s body.

“You need to talk to her.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I…I wait until a better time.”

I smiled.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to interrupt.”

Great.

### Session B50:

“Marcie, can you hear me?”

No response.

“Marcie…would you tell me what’s wrong?”

That had worked with Mom, but Marcie didn’t even acknowledge that I’d said anything.

Fuck. _Fuck_. What the fuck had happened?

I tried asking Marcie a few more questions, but she didn’t say anything. And that’s when I thought to look at her laptop.

She was on a reddit thread—/r/sex, it looked like. A guy was asking about a potential threesome with a brother/sister pair, and the comments…

Oh, shit.

The comments weren’t positive.

“sorry but it’s just wrong”, one redditor helpfully offered.

“that’s sick,” someone else said, followed by a winky face.

“I wouldn’t do it, but each to their own,” was the third-highest voted comment…and as I kept reading, I realized that it was by far the most positive.

Oh, _shit_.

My mind was racing, trying to work out how I could undo the damage when I realized that wasn’t the only tab Marcie had open. “Brother-sister threesome”, “Sex with siblings”, “fucking my best friend’s sister”—they kept on coming. A mix of porn, Yahoo Answers, reddit threads, an incest-based Tumblr…

Oh fuck.

What had I done?

### Session A64:

Once Lucy was under my complete control, she wasn’t going to notice anything odd if Mom started wearing less around the house.

Not, of course, that there was much less that Mom could be wearing. Unless…

I grinned broadly as I began setting up a new scenario.

“Hypothetical: You’re eight.”

Nod.

“One of your friends comes home from vacation, and she has a secret to tell you.”

Nod.

“Her family went to a nudist colony over the summer.”

I leaned forward, wondering if there was any chance this would take.

Nod.

Amazing.

### Session A68:

“You’re twenty-nine.”

Nod.

“One of the women in your book club invites you to a weekend with them at a nudist colony.”

Nod. This was the fifth session of the night, and she’d gone along with everything with almost no hesitation.

“You’ve been interested in this since you were young, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you say when you get the invite?”

“I couldn’t,” Mom said. The contrast of her soft voice, glassy stare and provocative outfit never failed to get me hard.

“Why not?”

“I have two children at home,” Mom said, returning to a monotone.

“But do you _want_ to say yes?”

“Of course.”

Excellent.

### Session A77:

“What did it say?”

Mom handed back the article. I’d gone way over time, but I knew Mom wouldn’t care—I don’t actually know how the girls justify the time I spend hypnotizing them, but I’d started pushing it further and further and without running into any issues—and I had Mom and the house to myself, since Lucy was around at Marcie’s.

I grinned at the idea. They were probably eye-fucking each other whenever they thought they weren’t being watched.

The plan was to increase their lust for each other and then let it boil over…hopefully with me in the middle of it.

My last session with Marcie was tomorrow—immediately after I was done with her, I was going to turn my sister and spend the night enjoying her body.

I was so close to what I’d been working towards for so long. I could taste it.

“It said that nudism was healthy, if done right.”

“What else?”

“It said that it could bring a family closer.”

### Session A89:

Glancing at the clock, I knew that this had to be the last session of the day. Marcie was coming over in a bit, and I was going to finalize things with her.

“Okay Mom,” I said cautiously. “Hypothetical: you’re 34.”

Nod.

“You decide that you want us to have a nudist house.”

Shake.

Huh. I thought I’d laid the groundwork pretty well for this one.

“It’s healthy for a family to be nude together, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Family members can be naked around each other without it being sexual, can’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You want to be a nudist, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want your children to be nudists, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

I was tempted to ask if she wanted to see me nude—or, even better, Lucy—but I didn’t want to push it. I’d gotten this far by being ultra-cautious, and I didn’t want to screw things up now.

“You decide that you want us to have a nudist house.”

Shake.

What?

I mentally went through everything we’d talked about for the last few days—the benefits of nudism, the total lack of risk. I’d carefully implanted urges to be nude, urges to be a nudist…but I couldn’t work out where I’d misstepped.

Of course, there was one easy way to find out.

“Why?”

“Because…” my mother said, and hesitated. Not long enough for me to worry, but long enough for me to work out what I was going to say if she continued to hesitate.

“…I don’t want to talk about it.”

### Session B51:

It had been a hell of a week.

I’d spent almost a full hour in our last session trying to get through to Marcie. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get a reaction.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Questions? No response. Orders? No response…most of the time.

Sexual commands?

Immediate, enthusiastic response.

It was a combination of horrifying and hot.

### Session B50:

“Okay,” I said, completely at a loss. Maybe honesty was the answer. “Hypothetical: for the last few months, I’ve been hypnotizing you to be my sexual slave. I lie to you, and convince you that it’s normal to sleep with a brother and sister at the same time…even though it isn’t.”

Pause.

Nothing.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered. “God damn it. Fuck me.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Marcie’s hands were on my fly. Within moments, her panties were off and she was grinding against me, desperately trying to get my flaccid penis into her soaking wet pussy.

“Stop!” I yelped in fear, and to my relief…she did.

“Take your clothes off,” I said cautiously. Again, in record time, she was naked and staring at me expectantly.

“Put them back on,” I said…

Nothing.

### Session B51:

I hadn’t done anything with her. How could I? I’d have to be some kind of monster to take advantage of her in that state.

I’d broken her. Somehow, I’d broken her.

After realizing I couldn’t get her redressed, I panicked. What would I do if her parents suddenly came home and caught me in a room with their naked, mindless daughter?

I erased her internet history, put her computer away, told her to lie down on the bed, woke her up (I think?)

…and ran.

It wasn’t the right thing to do. I know that.

But what other choice did I have?

### Session 33:

I stared at my sister glumly. She stared back, glassy-eyed as ever.

This was suppose to be it. This was supposed to be the session where I did it, the one where I made my wildest fantasies come true. And hers, at that.

But now, after what had happened to Marcie, I couldn’t. Of course I couldn’t.

Instead, I was on damage control.

“Hypothetical,” I said with a sad sigh. “You and Marcie…”

I hesitated. After all I’d done to the poor girl, did I want to follow it up with this?

No.

But I had to.

“A few years ago, you and Marcie began to drift apart.”

Nod.

### Session B51:

“Oh god, Jake…”

I gestured for my sister to keep her voice down. I hadn’t wanted to bring her, but it was the only way I was going to be able to get to see Marcie.

At the sound of my sister’s voice, Marcie shivered. Even if I hadn’t been warned, I would have recognized exactly what was happening.

After all, how many times had I watched Marcie cum?

“Jake…” my sister whispered, staring at me adoringly. “Did you really do this?”

I nodded.

“That’s so hot.”


	Chapter 10

### Session 33:

“When Marcie and I started to hook up, she had less spare time for you.”

Nod.

I’d considered erasing Marcie and myself hooking up out of Lucy’s memories entirely. That would be safer, when she inevitably found out what had happened to her best friend.

But…after seeing what happened to Marcie when she was presented with evidence of something that didn’t match her altered memories, I didn’t really want to take any risk.

And so I’d gone in the other direction.

“You were jealous of Marcie for getting to sleep with me, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you were jealous of me for getting to hook up with Marcie, right?”

“Right.”

A week ago…hell, even a few days ago, that would have made me smile. But now…I was doing damage control.

There was nothing fun about that.

“And so she started coming around less and less. Whenever we wanted to hook up, I’d go to hers.”

Nod.

I continued for fifteen minutes, spinning the tale of their friendship deteriorating. I kept in Marcie coming over after she got back from vacation, and telling Lucy that she and I were hooking up. I even left in the part where she called me “master”—Mom had been there for that, and I didn’t want Lucy shutting down if she said something.

When it was done, I leaned back and sighed. Now, at least it would take Lucy a few days to notice something was up when she didn’t hear from Marcie—and hopefully she wouldn’t be as crushed to learn what had happened to her.

But I still hadn’t gotten any closer to my ultimate goal. After a week of prep, of getting Lucy excited for a world where she could be her brother’s sex slave…nothing. I wasn’t any closer.

All that time, wasted.

As I went to wake my sister up, a thought struck me.

_Was_ it wasted?

Obviously I couldn’t go down the path that I’d been intending to—not without risking Lucy going as catatonic as Marcie had. (I shuddered at the thought.) But that didn’t mean that I had to start over.

After all, my sister had these fantasies. Maybe I couldn’t shape the world to ensure they came true…but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t use them.

Glancing at the clock, I knew it’d have to wait for another time. I was fast reaching the half-hour time limit that I’d set. Going any longer than this made me uncomfortable—I’d gotten away with it with Mom, but there was no way of knowing whether I’d be able to do the same with Lucy.

Wait, no. There _was_ a way.

“After you and Marcie fight, you come into my room and I hypnotize you.”

Nod.

“After waking you up, I hypnotize you again, straight away.”

Nod.

“Does anything about that seem suspicious to you?”

“No. I trust you. You’d never do anything that wasn’t for my benefit.”

I smiled. All this time, I’d been worrying for nothing.

Rolling up my proverbial sleeves, I decided to get to work.

### Session 34:

It didn’t take long to wake Lucy up from the last hypothetical (I wanted to lock in her distance from Marcie before I started exploring what else I could do) and put her under again.

True to her word, she didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Would you tell me why you like being hypnotized?” I asked. I knew there was more important stuff on the agenda, but I had to know.

“Yes.”

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“It makes me feel closer to you,” Lucy said, and I smiled. That was a sweet thing to say…and it was sort of true, too. Our sessions were bringing us closer together—far closer than she knew.

“Okay,” I said. “You wish you were your brother’s slave, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, and even though the word came out in a monotone, there was a distinct moan-ish quality to it.

“You want to fulfill your brother’s every sexual urge, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she monotone moaned. Moanotoned. Mono-moaned?

“You wish that your only purpose in life was to get him off, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If you could, you’d spend your every waking hour wrapped around his cock, getting it hard and making it cum again and again and again…”

Now I was starting to get carried away.

“Right?”

“Yes.”

We both wanted it so bad. And I knew we were close—we were so close.

So what the fuck was stopping it?

“So why don’t you?”

“Because,” my sister said, her blank eyes staring into mine. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Why?”

“Incest is wrong,” my sister repeated.

“Why?” I asked again, feeling like a kid bugging their parents.

“It just is,” she said, and a hint of sadness entered her monotone.

That felt a lot like a dead end. The only thing that I could really do from there was tell her that no, incest _wasn’t_ wrong…and that was what had lead to her best friend Blue Screen of Death-ing.

So I had to try another tack.

“Okay,” I said, after a few seconds to think. “You want to serve your brother, right?”

“ _Yes,_ ” she montoned insistently.

“But you can’t do anything sexual with him because it’s wrong.”

“Yes.”

“But there are other ways that you can serve him, aren’t there?”

There was a pause, and I could almost see the gears in my sister’s hypnotized head turning.

“Yes,” she eventually admitted.

“Like what?”

“I could make breakfast for him.”

“Good,” I said, and I swear she preened slightly at the praise.

My sister making breakfast for me was a nice bonus. She’s pretty good in the kitchen.

I mean, I guess it had always been part of the long-term plan. My sister, naked in the kitchen, obeying my every command. The delicious breakfast hadn’t exactly been the goal, but I guess the time between getting off has got to be filled somehow.

“What else?”

“I could help him with his homework.”

Sure.

“What else?”

For the next few minutes, my sister continued to list mundane chores that she could help me out with around the house. As she did, I was surprised to see her breathing getting faster, and a slight pink appear in her cheeks.

“It would be sexy to be a servant for your brother, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be hot to treat him as your master?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you wish you were his personal slave?”

“ _Yes_.”

“He wouldn’t even have to know, would he?”

“No.”

“It would be hot to be your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“It would be hot to be my brother’s secret slave.”

“Tell me that you want to be my secret slave.”

“I want to be your secret slave.”

“Do you know what else you could do for your brother?”

“What?”

“You’d do anything, wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause, and I realized that I’d gotten carried away. I was hard as a rock at the sight of my panting sister, practically getting off just at the idea of making my bed in the morning.

“As long as it wasn’t incest.”

“Yes.”

“Say that you’d do anything for your brother, as long as it wasn’t incest.”

“I’d do anything for my brother, as long as it wasn’t incest.”

“One thing you could do for your brother is give him something to look at.”

There was a pause as I let that sink in.

“You’ve been teasing your brother for months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, after a reluctant pause.

“It’s not incest if it’s only teasing, is it?”

Again, that reluctance, but eventually she admitted that it wasn’t.

I considered telling her that I wouldn’t notice, using the same lines that I had on Mom. That family didn’t notice each other sexually, or that it was totally safe…but something held me back.

To begin with, it probably wouldn’t work. Telling my sister that siblings never noticed each other sexually wasn’t going to fly when she was getting herself off every night thinking of my cock.

But more than that…it was totally counter to my goals. I wanted my sister to embrace the taboo of what we were doing, to revel in the inherent wrongness of her own feelings. Pretending that I wasn’t going to check her out ran counter to that—she already saw me as a sexual being, and for my long-term plans to work, I needed to lean into that.

“Imagine your brother getting hard at the sight of your body.”

There was a pause, and the blush deepening on Lucy’s cheeks told me that she was doing what I’d suggested.

“Hypothetical: you start acting as your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod. No hesitation.

“You get more and more turned on every time you do something for him.”

My sister nodded, fast and furious.

“Whenever he innocently asks you for something, you do it immediately.”

Nod. I hadn’t been sure how well she’d take that one, but it was clear that I was in ‘the zone’.

“You spend the entire weekend obeying your brother’s every command.”

Nod.

“You’re his secret slave, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“You spend all day anticipating his whims, trying to please him, and he never even notices.

Nod.

“That makes it even hotter, doesn’t it? You’re his secret slave, secret even from him.”

Nod.

“It becomes your life.”

Nod.

“All day, every day, whenever you’re at home you’re doing favors for your brother.”

Nod.

“Whenever he orders you to do something, you obey immediately.”

Nod.

“You’re in a constant sexual haze, aren’t you?”

“Yesss…”

“One day, he mentions that he likes your tight blue jeans. What do you do?”

There was a pause—it was so brief that if I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have thought that she’d answered immediately. But it was there.

“I put on my tight blue jeans.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Again, that tiny pause.

“…he likes them.”

I grinned.

“Your brother is a hot-blooded male, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What do men like?”

My sister’s forehead creased for a moment, but she soon began listing stuff.

“Steak. Blowjobs. Action movies. Football. Stewardesses. Gadgets. Tom Sell—…”

I cut her off, despite my curiosity about how long she’d be able to list stuff.

“Stop.”

As she stopped, I saw a slight shiver go through her body. She was _really_ getting off on obeying me.

This was going to be fun.

“Your brother is a straight guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What do straight guys like?”

“Blowjobs. Women. Bikinis. Short skirts. Legs. Boobs. Sex with women. Facials…”

This time I did let her go on for a while. Eventually, when it was clear that she was running out of stuff, I began talking again.

“Men like being teased, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Straight men like women in skimpy clothing, especially if it’s for them. Right?”

“Yes,” my sister said, this time without delay.

“Your brother would like it if you wore less clothing around the house, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“It would be fun to do what your brother likes, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be hot to tease your brother, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It wouldn’t be incest though, would it?”

“No,” Lucy said, after a long pause.

“Hypothetical: you decide to become your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod.

“You obey his every non-sexual command, and do what you can to make his life better.”

Nod.

“You’re constantly turned on, your mind overtaken by lust.”

Nod.

“And you tease him, dressing in skimpy clothing as you do.”

Pause.

Shiver.

Nod.

### Session 35:

That weekend was a blast. I didn’t have to lift a finger—every time I wanted something, either Lucy was already on her way with it, or all I had to do was ask.

On top of that, the show was back. She must have changed outfits at least a dozen times over the course of the two days—short skirts, bikinis, tank tops. When Mom came home on Saturday night, Lucy was wearing a white button-up shirt and a tiny denim skirt with a thong underneath.

Only one button of the shirt was done up, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Mom didn’t say anything, of course—honestly, I don’t know if she even noticed.

After all, as far as she’s concerned: family don’t notice what each another are wearing.

But the best part was that unlike before, when I had to pretend not to notice when Lucy was leaning over in front of me and giving me a generous view of her cleavage (with a hint of nipple), I could stare as frankly as I liked.

No, more than that: Lucy _wanted_ me to stare. She’d get down on her knees in front of me (to pick up something I’d dropped or whatever) and then stay there, biting her lip slightly as she noticed me staring directly down her top.

Her breathing would get faster and faster as she watched me checking her out, and then her eyes would flick down to my boner, and she’d make some excuse to leave.

When she came back, her face would be bright pink, and she’d be wearing a completely new outfit—one sluttier than before.

It didn’t take a genius to work out what she was running off to do.

By Sunday night, she was wearing something _clearly_ not appropriate for around the house. I don’t think she even cared any more—she’d taken my comment about being in a sexual stupor to heart, and now she was just letting her pussy do the thinking.

It was a set of black lingerie—I’d guess that she stole it from Mom’s wardrobe, except I know that Mom doesn’t own anything like that (because I didn’t buy it for her). Either Lucy had gone shopping at some point since our sessions began, or—and I don’t know why this thought turned me on so much—she’d owned extremely naughty underwear even before I’d started working on her.

She looked great in it. I mean, you could make the argument that I’d think Lucy looked great in anything, but she really did rock this particular outfit.

It probably helped that there was practically nothing to it.

They were basically just a thong and a bra…except without any of the material you’d expect a thong and bra to come with. Really, it was a set of black straps—the only thing that stopped them from revealing _everything_ was the black fringe that hung down over her nipples and crotch.

Every time she moved, swayed, flounced, or was hit by the slightest of breezes, the fringe would shift, and for a single tantalizing moment, you could see everything.

Then, just as quickly, the fringe would settle, and it was all hidden once more.

Incredible.

The moment I saw them, my eyes practically fell out of my head, and just my reaction was enough to make Lucy whimper with lust. We just stood there for a few minutes, me staring at her ridiculous body, her getting increasingly flushed, her nipples hardening, her breathing turning into panting.

Less than five minutes after she walked into the room, she turned around again, leaving me watching as that perfect ass sashayed out of the room.

This time, I followed her.

I entered her room without knocking—if her guilty look hadn’t been enough to tell me what she’d been up to, the smell of female arousal in the room—or the position of her hands—would have.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, and when I told her to be quiet, her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.

She didn’t question me when I told her I was going to put her under. And when I had her staring blankly at me a few minutes later, I didn’t hesitate to execute the next part of my plan.

“Hypothetical: the attention from your brother turns you on.”

Nod. It would have been pretty silly if she’d tried to deny _that_.

“Whenever it gets to be too much, you go into your room and masturbate.”

Nod.

“Your brother hasn’t noticed that you’re his secret slave.”

Nod.

“But a part of you wishes that he would.”

Lucy nodded without even a whiff of hesitation.

“You fantasize about your brother ordering you around, treating you like his property.”

Nod.

“You wish that he would do that for real.”

Nod.

“You wish that he would dominate you, so you could be his submissive.”

Nod.

“It would be wrong to do anything sexual with him, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be wrong to commit incest with your brother.”

Nod.

“But being a slave doesn’t have to be sexual, does it?”

Slight pause, followed by a soft “No.”

“You’ve been a slave all weekend, and that wasn’t sexual, was it?”

“No.”

“It wouldn’t be incest if you agreed to be his slave around the house, would it?”

“No.”

“You can be your brother’s slave without it being incest.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I can be my brother’s slave without it being incest.”

“You want to be your brother’s slave, even though it’s not sexual.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I want to be my brother’s slave, even though it’s not sexual.”

“You will obey your brother’s every command, as long as we aren’t committing incest.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I will obey my brother’s every command, as long as we aren’t committing incest.”

“A slave is a piece of property, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to be your brother’s property, aren’t you?”

Lucy shivered before replying.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m going to be my brother’s property.”

“You are your brother’s property.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I am my brother’s property.”

“I own you.

Nod.

“Say it.”

“You own me.”

“I own your body.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“You own my body.”

I smiled. A thought came into my head.

“Remember when I used to come and thank you each time I came?”

“Yes.”

“A master shouldn’t have to thank his slave, should he?”

“No.”

“I own your body, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“That means I decide what happens to it, don’t I?”

There was a pause, and I realized I was getting ahead of myself.

“As long as we don’t commit incest, I decide what happens to your body, don’t I?”

“Yes,” my sister replied without hesitation.

“I turn you on, and I should decide when you get off.”

Nod.

“I want to know how much I turn you on.”

“So much…—” Lucy moaned, but I cut her off before she could continue.

“Not right now. The rest of the time—when you cum, I want to be told about it. I want to know all the details; what you thought about, how you got yourself off. And then…”

I grinned broadly, drunk on the power I had over my almost-naked sister.

“And then I want you to thank me.”

### Session 36:

I didn’t go much further that session. After getting her to repeat everything back, I put it in place with a hypothetical and woke her up.

You could make the argument that I could have pushed things farther than I did, but I already felt like I was in a dangerous area. Marcie’s face still haunted me (when Lucy’s body wasn’t distracting me) and without anyone to test stuff out on, I wanted to move slowly.

For a given definition of slowly, anyway.

But it all went off without a hitch—it took me a little bit of time to slip into the dominant role that I’d set up, but ordering my sister around was something I’d been fantasizing about for years, and soon I was really enjoying ordering her around. I even started pushing things a little bit—ordering her to flash me her panties (on the rare occasion she wore something to cover them), rub her body against me (avoiding genital-to-genital contact, of course) and describing the stuff I’d do to her if she wasn’t my sister.

She got so wet so fast—after just a few minutes of me telling her how much I wanted to plunge my cock deep into her wetness, she’d go bright red and practically run to her room…

…and then come back a few minutes later to thank me, and describe her fantasies back to me.

After a few days of this, I was confident that she wasn’t going to suddenly break, and that I could safely start pushing her limits even more, trying to take things to the next level.

I was also going up the wall with frustration. I was so _close_ —my sister was wearing what I told her to, doing everything I ordered her to do, and describing her sexual fantasies to me in great detail.

In _real life_.

I’d gotten so far. I was so close.

But I wasn’t quite there yet.

“You’re my slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I’m your slave.”

“I own your body.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“You own my body.”

“Is there anything you won’t let me do?”

“Yes,” Lucy said quietly, and her blank eyes shifted slightly, as if trying to avoid eye-contact.

“What?”

“Anything sexual.”

I would have laughed, if the situation wasn’t so frustrating. I don’t know what you’d call rubbing against someone and telling them what you thought about when you got off if not sexual.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to take a cold shower, but I couldn’t.

Not while I was so close.

“Why not?”

“Because,” my sister said, her lips tightening slightly. “It would be wrong.”

“Would it?” I asked hopelessly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What if we lived in a world…—“

I cut myself off. Tempting though it was, I didn’t want to go down that path again.

An image of Marcie flashed through my head, my sister’s best friend silently sobbing as she took her clothes off.

I couldn’t.

“Okay.” I said, after a few minutes of thought. So I’d hit a limit? That’s what I was good at. That’s what I’d spent all this time getting very, very good at.

“Okay,” I repeated. “You won’t commit incest.”

Nod.

All I had to do was redefine incest. All I had to do was move the boundary of what was and wasn’t incest.

And _that_ was something I knew was doable.

What’s more, I had a great idea of how to do it.

“Is being naked near each other incest?”

There was a long pause, but before my sister could answer, I butted in.

“If a brother and a sister accidentally walk in on each other while naked, is that incest?”

“No.”

“So being naked near each other can’t be incest, can it?”

There was a long pause, but my sister eventually had to admit that I was right.

“No.”

“I own your body, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And so I decide what you wear.”

Nod.

“You’ll do whatever I want, as long as it isn’t incest.”

Nod.

“Being naked in front of a sibling isn’t incest.”

Nod.

I was fairly sure I was safe, but I wanted to check all bases before I proceeded.

“Lucy,” I said slowly, not sure if I was really going to burst through this wall, “take off your clothes.”

“Yes, master,” she said, stood up, and started stripping.

Within a minute she was standing naked in front of me, blushing as I stared at her, my mouth open in shock and admiration.

I’d seen her topless. I’d seen her in a thong, and I’d seen her in underwear that didn’t hide anything.

But there was something so…so _beautiful_ about seeing her naked for the first time. It was like eating a recipe made up of the world’s finest ingredients—they’re all amazing individually, but it isn’t until you put it all together that the true potential is realized.

Lucy was perfect. Her breasts sat firmly on her chest, her nipples hard and a flush running towards them from her neck. Her legs were long and toned, and she had a perfect hourglass figure. The only blemishes visible on her flawless skin were a mole to the right of her belly-button and another on her left thigh, and her pussy was neatly shaved, with a small tuft of hair right above her swollen lips.

I could have stared at her all day. Hell, I could have stared at her forever. Even as I watched, a small trickle of arousal left the slit between her legs and began running down her thigh, running out of steam just before it reached her mole.

But the plan wasn’t just to admire her, enjoyable though that was.

I wanted so much more.

“Have we ever committed incest?” I asked, when I finally got my voice back.

“No,” Lucy said in a monotone. I wanted to order her to pose for me, to contort her body into whatever positions I desired—into the positions that I’d desired for so long.

She would have. But I had bigger fish to fry.

“We’ve never committed incest.”

Nod.

“When you jerked me off 34 to 37 times, that wasn’t incest.”

My sister’s eyes widened slightly. For a second I felt guilty, like I’d tricked her…but it wasn’t like I’d lied, or withheld information to fool her.

There was a long pause—almost long enough that I started to get worried—but then, eventually, she nodded.

“It isn’t incest for a sister to jerk her brother off.”

This time, she nodded almost instantly. My sister doesn’t like being wrong—apparently enough that she’ll rewire her morals just to avoid it.

“Men and women are equal.”

Nod. My sister is quite the feminist, something you might not guess from how enthusiastically she took on the role of slave.

“If it isn’t incest for a sister to masturbate her brother, it can’t be incest for a brother to masturbate his sister.”

Another slight pause, then another firm nod.

“It isn’t incest for a brother to finger his sister.”

Nod.

“It isn’t incest for a brother to bring his sister to orgasm with his hand.”

Nod.

“You’ll let me bring you to orgasm with my hand.”

Nod.

“You want me to bring you to orgasm with my hand.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I want you to bring me to orgasm with your hand.”

“Again.”

“I want you to bring me to orgasm with your hand.”

“You need it.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“I need it.”

“Tell me how much you need me to touch you.”

“Oh please,” Lucy whimpered. If I hadn’t been listening for the monotone, I might not have noticed it—her voice was so desperate, so thick with lust. “Please, touch me. Please, bring me off. I need it so much. I need you to bring me…oh!”

Lucy’s eyes fluttered back in her head as I reached between her legs. She felt different than Marcie had—much wetter, for one, and Marcie hadn’t exactly been lacking in that department.

I moved my pointer and ring finger up and down her slit; her lips parted as soon as I touched them, practically begging me to enter them, but I spent a few minutes enjoying how slick my sister was, and the gasping moans as I teased her.

When I felt like she was going to break if I didn’t go any further, I curled my fingers inside her, and was enveloped by her needy pussy.

For the next five minutes, I used my hands to explore Lucy’s wetness, working out what she liked…and what she _loved_. Each time I thought she was close to cumming, I pulled back, whispered in her ear that she wasn’t allowed to cum until I said she could, and paused until she’d calm down.

I’d worked out a long time ago with Marcie that when someone is turned on—I mean _really_ turned on—they’re more likely to shift their limits.

Once I’d gotten idea of how to press my sister’s buttons (knowledge that I was sure would serve me for a long time to come) I withdrew my sticky fingers—to her unhappy, monotonal groan—and resumed running them up and down her slit, watching her twitch with pleasure as I did.

“Why can’t I fuck you?” I asked crudely, enjoying Lucy’s sharp intake of breath as I cursed in her ear.

“Because it’s wrong,” she panted.

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because it’s incest.”

She shivered at the word.

“I own you, don’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“You own me.”

She shivered again as she said it.

“Why can’t I fuck you?” I asked, deftly moving my fingers to turn her on, while carefully avoiding her most erogenous zones.

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because it’s incest.”

“But isn’t that what’s so hot about it?” I asked, and even before she answered out loud, Lucy’s body answered the question for me.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that what makes this so sexy, so intense?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be even more intense if we went all the way?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be so much more intense if I fucked you?”

“Yessss.”

“What if I fucked you bareback?”

“Oh!” Lucy said, and I backed off for a second. She was getting close to cumming again, and I hadn’t even gone near her clit.

“What if I fucked you without a condom, and came inside you? Wouldn’t that be hot?”

“Yes,” Lucy mono-moaned.

“Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Can I fuck you?” I asked, and was surprised when she shook her head in response.

Damn it.

“Why can’t I fuck you?”

“Because that would be incest,” she insisted.

I sighed. It looked like this was a limit that I might not be able to get through.

Not yet.

“If I fucked you, that would be incest.”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, enjoying the shivers that ran through my sister’s body as I moved my hand up and started softly stroking her perfect ass. “Is what we’re doing now incest?”

“No,” she moaned, and I gave her cute butt a light slap.

“What about that? Was that incest?”

“No…”

I slapped her harder, and for a second thought that I’d inadvertently made her cum.

“Was that incest?”

“No,” she whimpered desperately.

“Just fucking, then?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking is incest.”

“Yes.”

“But everything else is okay.”

“Yes.”

“Say it,” I said, not sure if she’d fully registered what she’d just said.

“Fucking is incest…but everything else is okay.”

“Again.”

“Fucking is incest…but everything else is okay.”

“Spanking is okay?”

“Yes.”

“Mutual masturbation?”

“Yes.”

My fingers had returned to her hungry pussy by this point, and were slowly sliding in and out; enough to stimulate her, but not enough to get her off.

“Tit-fucking?”

“Yessss.”

“Facials?”

“Yes.”

“Oral?”

“Yes,” my sister said, and I smiled.

“I own your body.”

She nodded, even as her eyes threatened to roll back in her head with frustration.

“And as long as I don’t fuck you, you’ll do anything I tell you to.”

She nodded again.

“Say it.”

“As long as you don’t fuck me, I’ll do anything you tell me to.”

“Cum,” I said, and as my sister’s cunt spasmed around my fingers, I could feel an orgasm shaking across Lucy’s body—the first one that I’d personally caused, but I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

A smile appeared on my face.

Just one more limit to go.

* * *

Jack’s story will conclude in [Unlimited](https://mcstories.com/NoMoreLimits/../Unlimited/index.html), the final part of the Limits saga. 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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