LIMITS

Feature Writer: Pan

Feature Title: Limits

Published: Copyright© 2012 by Pan

Story Codes: mt/ft, Mind Control, Hypnosis, Heterosexual, Incest, Brother, Sister, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism

Synopsis: After hypnotizing my sister Lucy, I was disappointed to discover that it wasn’t the magic control button I’d been looking for. No, the trick is finding people’s limits, what they will and won’t do…and then seeing if you can move those limits.

 

Limits – Chapter 1

Session 22:

“Yes,” my sister said. “I’ll let you cum on my tits.”

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

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

Session 1:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Session 6:

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah…” she eventually said. “I guess I’d give it to you then.”

“So will you give me your PIN?”

“Yes,” she replied, just as confident as she’d been when she said “no” earlier.

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

Well, I didn’t even want to think about what “at best” led to.

“What’s your PIN?” I asked, and without a moment’s hesitation she told me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I got better quickly.

Session 9:

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

“I’d be really freaked out. Incest is gross.”

Good to know.

Session 10:

“Would you ever go to a nude beach?”

“No,” she’d answered, without a moment of hesitation.

“What about a topless beach? Would you go to a topless beach?”

“Yes,” she said – better, but not good enough.

“Would you go to a topless beach … with me?”

A longer pause, but the answer I expected. “No.”

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Session 4:

“Tell me about your first kiss.”

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

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

“I was fifteen. It was with a boy named Paul – I don’t know his last name – in a closet at a party. We were playing seven minutes of heaven.”

“Tell me about the first time you had sex.”

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

Session 7:

“Would you talk to me about sex?”

“No.”

“Would you talk to me about masturbation?”

” … yes.”

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

“In what circumstances would you talk to me about masturbation?”

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

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

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

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

“How often do you masturbate?”

“Three or four times a week.”

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

“No.”

Figures.

“When did you last masturbate?”

“Last night.”

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

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

“Yes,” she said, barely pausing at all.

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

“Would you talk to me about your sex life?”

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

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

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

Another pause. Another nod.

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

” … yes.”

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

“I guess that’s okay…”

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

“Sure,” she said after a brief pause. “But, like, not everything. No … details.”

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

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

“Yes.”

“Even when we talk about sex?”

“Yes…”

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

“Yes.”

“Tell me about the last time you had sex.”

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

Session 11:

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

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

“Yes,” she said.

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

“No,” she said. “Of course not.”

“So hypothetical – I’ve just seen you topless in the hot tub, and then when we get home I tell you that I’m worried I saw a lump.”

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

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

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

“Do you let me see you topless then?”

“No,” she said. “I go see a doctor.”

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

“No. I ask Mom.”

“What if Mom’s not with us?”

“I feel for lumps myself.”

“What if you can’t see any?”

“I wait until the blizzard clears. Until I see a doctor, I can’t do anything anyway.”

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

I could feel it.

Session 8:

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

“No,” Lucy said, after a few seconds of thought.

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

“Yes.”

There was a pause, before I realized my phrasing.

” … tell me what kind of thing gets you excited.”

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

“Wait, you get excited talking about sex?”

“Yes.”

“What about when you’re talking about sex with me?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Do I turn you on?”

“No.” No hesitation there.

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

“Yes.”

“Did you masturbate?”

“Yes.”

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

God, I would love to have seen it.

Session 11:

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Do you take your top off in front of me?”

“Yes.”

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

“Okay, we’re on the beach. You’re topless, and … some guy points at your boobs and starts laughing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You ask me if there’s anything wrong with your tits.”

Nod.

“I tell you that they’re fine, and that you shouldn’t worry. You don’t believe me.”

Nod.

“You ask … you ask if I’ll have a look at them.”

Nod.

“Would you show me your tits?”

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

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

Nod.

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

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

“Say it,” I said, needing that final confirmation.

“Yes,” she repeated. “I’ll take my top off in front of you.”

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

 

Limits – Chapter 2

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

“And?” I prompted.

“And when you’re alone, I will make sure you aren’t interrupted.”

Session 11:

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

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

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

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

My mouth was practically watering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Session 3:

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

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

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

“Given what?”

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

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

Session 13:

“Do you remember anything that happened last time I hypnotised you?”

“No.”

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

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

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

“Would you take off your top in front of me?”

“Yes.”

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

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

“No.”

Worth checking.

“Would you let me touch you?”

“Yes.”

“In what circumstances?”

“Any normal brother-sister touching.”

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

“Would you let me touch your tits?”

“No.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere public except the lips.”

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

“How do you define public?”

“Anything that people can normally see.”

“What about your tits?”

“No.”

“What about if we were at a nude beach?”

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

“No.”

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

“Would you talk to me about sex?”

“Yes.”

“In detail?”

“Yes.”

“Would you talk to me about masturbation?”

“Yes.”

“In detail?”

“No.”

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

“Under what circumstances?”

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

I remembered now, she’d said that before.

“What do you mean by that?”

“What do I mean by what?”

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

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

“Like … if you were in an accident, and you couldn’t jerk off.”

Hold up. Hold up. What?

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

“I’d be really sorry for you.”

“Hang on. So … let’s say I’ve been in an accident. I was, I dunno, ski-ing.”

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

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

Nod.

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

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

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

Nod.

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

Nod.

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

Nod.

“Finally, you get it out of me—I’m really embarrassed to say, but … I’m horny.”

Pause.

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

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

“I explain that normally I masturbate fourteen or fifteen times a week… —”

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

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

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

“Are you okay, bro?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another pause. I leaned forward as she answered.

” … do you want me to help you?”

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

“I nod. What do you do?”

“I…”

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

” … I make sure that no one’s coming, and then I undo your pants, and … and…”

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

” … and I jerk you off.”

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

“So if I needed it, you’d jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“Sis … will you jerk me off?”

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

Session 25:

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

“I agree.”

Session 15:

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

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

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

Jesus.

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

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

Nod.

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

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

“Twice a week.”

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

“After I’ve been in the hospital four weeks, how many times have you jerked me off?”

“6.”

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

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

“Yes.”

“How often?”

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

“How often would you like me to help?”

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

“Once a day. Will you jerk me off once a day?”

“Yes.” She didn’t even have to consider that one.

“What if I said more than that?”

“How often?”

“Twice a day?”

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

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

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

“34 to 37 times.” Quick as a whip.

“So would you say you’re pretty familiar with my cock?”

“Yes.”

“Do … do you like it?”

“No.”

Session 29:

“What do you think about when you masturbate?”

“You.”

“What specifically?”

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

“What do you think about my cock?”

“I love it.”

Session 15:

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

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

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t be uncomfortable around my cock, not after 34 to 37 times, would you?”

“No.”

“And you’re used to the sight of a hand running up and down my cock, yes?”

“Yes.”

“So, hypothetically, if I were to jerk off in front of you, after all that … you’d be okay with it?”

“No. Of course not. That would be weird.”

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

“Why not?”

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

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

Nod.

“But because it’s been so long, I … I can’t remember how to do it.”

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

Actually, this was a perfect time to find out.

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

Nod. Sexually confident, I mentally noted.

“So it takes me ages, and … how many times did I say I jerked off, normally?”

“Fifteen times a week.”

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

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

Nod.

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

“No, of course not.”

“Okay, so I ask if … you’ll tell me how you did some of the things that you did. What do you say?”

Pause.

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

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

“What do you say?”

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

“A single tear trickles down the side of my face…”

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

“You go again, but slower, and more detailed, but I just can’t get them.”

Nod.

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

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

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

“So,” I said, “you’d be okay with, hypothetically, watching me masturbate?”

“Yes.” The monotone returned.

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

“Yes.”

“Even though I’m not injured, and have full use of my limbs?”

“Yes.”

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

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

“I would offer you advice on how to do it.”

Session A1:

“What do you think of me, Mom?”

“I love you, sweetie. You know that.”

“Who’s your favorite child?”

“I don’t have a favorite.”

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

“What do you think of Lucy?”

“I love her.”

“Have you ever masturbated while thinking about either of us?”

“Of course not.”

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

“How often do you masturbate?”

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

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

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

Session 15:

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

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

“Any time, sis.” I said with a grin. “Any time.”

 

Limits – Chapter 3

Session 16:

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

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

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

It was difficult resist the temptation to get her topless.

Plenty of time for that later, I told myself.

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

“As many times as it takes.”

Damn, that monotone.

“Fifty times?”

Shake.

“Okay, what if it took me twenty times?”

Shake.

“Ten?”

Shake.

“How about five?”

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

“So after five times, you’re pretty comfortable with me jerking off in front of you?”

“Yes … I suppose so.”

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

“Yes. Yes, that would be weird.”

“Okay.”

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

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

“About five minutes.” Hey, I’d been excited.

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

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

“So the second time, wouldn’t your tips include some ways that I could last longer? After all, you are the expert…”

Nod.

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

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

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

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

“Right. So you’ve taught me how to jerk off really really well, yeah?”

“Yes.”

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

“Well, not that close…”

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

“I don’t need to get too close.”

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

“So you don’t sit super close … maybe a foot away?”

“Two feet,” she said, negotiating without expression.

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

“Closer to four.”

My sister always did have a good head for math.

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

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

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

Session 25:

“So just to confirm … you think that erections are attractive?”

“Yes.”

“In the right context, you find them arousing?”

“Yes.”

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

“Yes.”

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

Pause.

“Yes.”

“So you want to be a slut, don’t you?”

Pause.

“Yes.”

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

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

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

I love my life.

Session 16:

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

My plan was working.

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

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

“Of course, as well as watching me jerk off five times, you jerked me off yourself, didn’t you?”

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

“How many times did you jerk me off, Lucy?”

“34 to 37 times.”

“Why did you do it?”

“You’re my brother.” Interesting phrasing. “I wanted to take care of you.”

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

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

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

Nod.

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

Nod. God love predictable little Lucy.

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

Nod.

“In fact, you could even use this as an opportunity to practice some new techniques…”

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

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

Nod. Thank the lord my sister has an ego.

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

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

As my sister shook her head, her eyes started to flutter. Shit, I thought, I’ve pushed it too far this time…

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

Session 29:

“Why do you love my cock so much?”

“Because it’s forbidden.”

“What do you mean?”

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

“Does that turn you on?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

Session A4:

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

“A good mother makes her children happy, doesn’t she?”

“Well … sometimes.”

“Okay, let me put it this way – a good mother makes sure her children don’t suffer, doesn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a good mother?”

“Yes.”

“So you want to make sure to minimise your children’s suffering, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And how abo… -”

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

“Hey, it’s me!”

Crap!

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

“Wow! Thanks, son … that’s really relax… -”

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

“Oh, hey mom! I didn’t know you were in here!”

“That’s okay, Luce … I was just leaving.”

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

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

Session 16:

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” I said. “So you’ve talked to me while I’ve jerked off five times. I thank you.”

Nod.

“After that, you know when I’ve just jerked off, because I make sure to thank you afterward.”

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

“One day, I come home from school, and you can tell that I’m crying. I try to hide it from you…”

Nod.

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

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

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

“I laugh,” she said simply. She may be compassionate, loving and caring … but yeah, she’s my sister.

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

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

“And?” I prompted.

“And I ask if there’s anything I can do to help.”

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

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

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

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

Nod. Of course.

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

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

” … what were we just talking about?”

Session A2:

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, Mom…” I started nervously. “You love me, yeah?”

“Yes.”

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

I love hearing my mother say yes.

“And you love Lucy?”

“Yes, of course.”

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

“And you want the best for us, yeah?”

“Yes.”

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

“Okay…”

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

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

“Yes.”

“So we should spend plenty of time together.”

“Yes.”

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

Guilt.

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

“Yes.”

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

“No.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

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

Well, this was my first preventative measure.

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

Session 9:

“How do you feel about me hypnotizing Mom?”

“I think it’s a good idea. She needs a way to unwind.”

Session 42:

“How do you feel about me hypnotizing Mom?”

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

“I can’t wait.”

Session A4:

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

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

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

“Why was Mom in here?” she asked.

“Because of … cleaning.”

I’m not good at thinking on the spot.

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

“Hey…” she started, her nervousness making me nervous.

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

“Uh … look, I don’t know how to bring this up, so … I’m just going to say it.”

“Of course, sis. You can tell me anything.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what we were talking about the other day…”

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

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

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

“Aand … look, I don’t think it would be right.”

“No?”

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

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

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

“Well, I mean, I know I… ‘helped out’ with some other stuff,” she said, gesturing at my pants. “But I am your sister, after all. It wouldn’t be right, teaching you … y’know. Teaching you how to kiss.”

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

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

“Yeah…” I replied, after I’d processed what had happened. “No, that’s fair enough.”

“I don’t mean to be a bitch or anything…” she said.

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

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

“Sorry bro, I’m all tapped out. Everything I know, you now know.”

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

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

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

Session B6:

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

 

Limits – Chapter 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Session B13:

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

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

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

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

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

Another muffled “yes”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Session 29:

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

“I say yes.”

“Why?”

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

“Any other reason?”

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

“Everything you do is to turn your brother on, isn’t it?”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“Everything I do is to turn my brother on.”

Session B13:

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

“Yup.”

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, it hit me.

Session B3:

“Would you talk to me about your fantasies?”

“Sure.”

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

“Would you tell me what you think about when you masturbate?”

There was a long pause.

“No.”

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

“No.”

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

“Sure.”

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

“I’d love that…” she said, in a sultry tone.

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

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

“Yes.”

“Tell me what you think about when you play with yourself.”

Session B13:

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

“Got it.”

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

“She turns back to look at you, over her shoulder. You wink at her, and…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, I was … lost in a memory, I guess.”

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

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

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

I really was starting to get good at this.

 

Limits – Chapter 5

Life was good.

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

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

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

It was time to go back to basics.

Session 17:

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

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

She nodded.

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

“Yes.”

“Do you jerk me off?”

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

“Why not?”

“Your arms are working fine. You can do it yourself.”

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

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

“Would you tell me how often?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“When you come and tell me that you’ve just jerked off. Every time you come and thank me, I remember.”

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

Since it was part of that story, and I’d convinced Lucy that the events leading up to her jerking me off had actually happened, as far as Lucy was concerned … it was reality. That meant … that meant that I could actually do that in real life. Like, when Lucy wasn’t under.

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

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

Session 35:

“You’ll come and tell me when you masturbate, won’t you Lucy?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to know how horny you make me.”

“What else will you tell me?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I thought about. I’ll tell you what was running through my mind when I came.”

“What else?”

“I’ll tell you how I touched myself. I’ll tell you whether I used my fingers or a toy.”

“And?”

“And I’ll thank you.”

Session 17:

“You’ve never stayed in a hospital, have you Lucy?”

“No.”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“I ask if you’ll help me out, and jerk me off. What do you say?”

“How will that help?”

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

“You could swallow my cum. Do you agree?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you watch me masturbate, while I did?”

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

“Would you tell me if you’d enjoy it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you enjoy it? Watching me masturbate?”

” … yes.”

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

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

“Yes.”

“Will you smuggle it in your mouth?”

Pause.

“No.”

“Will you smuggle it in your handbag?”

“Ew. No.”

“Will you smuggle it in your hair, under your hat?”

“No.”

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

“Will you smuggle it on your skin somewhere?”

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

“You’ll let me cum on your skin?”

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

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

“Can I cum on your tits?”

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

“Yes,” my sister said. “I’ll let you cum on my tits.”

Session A8:

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

“I’d be shocked.”

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

“It would still be shocking.”

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

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay to do that with your sister…”

“Why not?”

“Well … because…”

“…”

“I don’t know.”

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

Session 17:

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

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

“I will let you cum on my tits.”

“Again.”

“I will let you cum on my tits.”

“Again.”

“I will let you cum on my tits.”

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

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

Session B16:

“What did you dream about last night, Marcie?”

“You. Again.”

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

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

And last week, I’d had an idea.

Session B14:

“What do you normally dream about, Marcie?”

“Y’know. Normal stuff. School, work … boys.”

“Do you ever dream about me?”

“Not really, no.”

“But you could, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You wake up, and I’m there, in real life. I ask you if you want to fuck. You say … yes.”

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

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

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

Session B16:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would it work on my sister?

THE END (OF CHAPTER FIVE)