Chapter 13

I couldn’t stand it any longer.

I’d been hypnotizing my mother and sister for months now. In that time, I’d turned my sister’s best friend into my own personal sex slave—both when she was hypnotized or awake—but with my family, I’d gotten practically nowhere.

Well, that wasn’t true of Lucy. While under hypnosis, I could get her to remove her top and let me cum on her tits. That’s certainly something. But I wasn’t any closer to my real goal—I wanted her to be mine in real life. I wanted her to wake up and blow me of her own accord.

I had her mind. Now I wanted her body.

Sitting my sister down for her next session, I knew exactly what I was going to say. There were so many limits waiting to be pushed, so many gaps just begging to be filled...

So far, I’d worked out that waking someone up during a believable hypothetical would make them believe it to be true. The emphasis was on “believable”—I couldn’t just say “You want to fuck me and you don’t care what society says”—if she didn’t believe it could theoretically happen, there was no way of making her think it was real.

I’d also been able to alter her dreams: by waking her up during a recurring dream hypothetical, I’d made those dreams recur in real life. It was a great way of implanting ideas, but I didn’t want to lean on it too heavily—after all, how often do you wake up after a weird dream and decide to blow your brother?

Marcie had been easy, in almost every sense of the word. She’d already had a small crush on me, which had certainly helped, and so all I’d needed to do was amplify that. Getting in her pants had just involved find out what circumstances she’d fuck someone, and mess with her memories until I fulfilled the criteria.

Lucy’s criteria, however, firmly included “not being her brother”, and so while I could probably get her to fuck almost any random of the street, committing incest? That was a whole different challenge.

She’d hypothetically jerked me off (to help out her poor, broken-armed brother)—she’d hypothetically let me cum on her tits (to “hide the evidence”) and I’d even convinced her to admit that she found me sexy.

I was on the right track. Now I just needed to push it.

As far as possible.

“Okay Lucy. Let’s go.”

I took a deep breath. Lucy, predictably, didn’t respond—she just kept staring straight ahead, those big, beautiful eyes of hers glazed over. She was completely under my trance.

“Would you ever discuss—with me—us having sex?”

There was a brief pause as Lucy parsed the sentence, but she was quick to respond.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“That would be ... wrong.”

“Okay. Would you tell me what the most sexual thing you’d do with me is?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

Again, a slight pause, but it was only a few seconds before she responded in monotone.

“I’d jerk you off.”

It seemed I’d found her limit. We’d done that—hypothetically—on more than a few occasions.

Still, better safe than sorry.

“In what circumstances?”

“If you needed me to.”

I briefly considered exploring exactly what that meant—whether “ordinary teenage hormones” would be enough of an excuse, for instance, but I was starting to feel like I was past that.

I didn’t want her to do it because I needed it—I needed her to do it because she wanted to.

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

The pause was longer this time.

“I’d kiss you.” Well, that was new. I considered exploring it, but decided to let the list continue. “I’d let you see my tits. I’d watch you jerk off. I’d masturbate in front of you. I’d let you cum on me.”

There was a long pause, and eventually I prompted her.

“Anything else?”

“I’d tease you.”

Now that was intriguing.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’d tease you.”

Thanks, sis.

“What do you mean by teasing?”

“I’d wear revealing clothes around the house,” she said in monotone, as I leaned forward, transfixed. “I’d bend over when I knew you were looking. I’d let you catch me in a bathrobe, or a towel, or in my underwear...”

Her breathing had grown slightly heavier as she listed other ways she’d sexually tease me, and my eyes boggled. I wondered where this had come from—a recent dream involving me?

Or maybe my sister had always had a slightly exhibitionistic streak?

“In what circumstances would you do that?”

There was a long pause, and it quickly became clear that Lucy was thinking not about how best to phrase it, but about what a good reason could be.

My sister was a tease. On some level, she wanted to tease me, and now she was just coming up with a flimsy excuse to justify it.

With a grin, I decided to help her.

“Would you tease me if I told you it would help me?”

“No.”

No hesitation at all. She seemed very clear on that.

“Would you tease me if you thought it would get my attention?”

“No.” Again, not even a whiff of a pause.

“Would you tease me if you thought it would turn me on?”

“No.”

I had to admit it, I was stumped. Why would you want to tease someone if it wasn’t going to turn them on?

And then I realized the obvious mistake I was making—I was coming at it from my point of view instead of hers.

“Would you tease me if you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

“Yes,” she said, almost immediately.

Interesting. The teasing wouldn’t be for me, but for her.

I decided to shelve the idea and come back to it later. I’d found something amazing, and I wanted to approach it cautiously.

“What other sexual things did you say you’d do with me, in the right circumstances?”

“I’d jerk you off. I’d kiss you. I’d let you—...”

Oh yes! The kiss. I interrupted the list.

“Under what circumstances would you kiss me?”

This time, there was no pause. Unlike teasing, it seemed that she didn’t wantto kiss me ... but she would, if the situation was right.

“I’d kiss you to help you out. I’d kiss you if you’d never been kissed.”

I feel like I should point out that I have been kissed before. Even Marcie wasn’t my first. But my sister had this idea of me as an innocent, and so I guess to her mind, I’d never been kissed.

The last time we’d discussed kissing, it had been enough to wake Lucy up. Apparently her limits had shifted. Like I’ve said before, they’re constantly moving:

The trick is to control the direction that they go.

“Okay,” I said, jumping straight into it. “Hypothetical—you come into my room and find me crying.”

Nod. I think one of my sister’s weaknesses is finding me crying. I don’t know why—it’s not something that’s actually happened for more than ten years—but I have no qualms with exploiting it whenever it comes up.

“After a lengthy conversation, you coax me into telling you I’ve never been kissed. What do you say?”

“Oh, bro...”

My sister’s soft tone always takes me by surprise when it’s in contrast to the total blankness of her hypnotized face. For the life of me, I can’t explain why it turns me on so much.

“I don’t say anything, just keep staring at the floor, embarrassed. What do you say?”

I once accidentally woke Lucy up by being too forward—in these hypotheticals, I have to always let her make the first move. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want me to notice her teasing—it plays on the idea of me as an innocent, her being the one taking action...

After a small silence, she continued.

“Do you want me to teach you how?”

“I nod. What do you do?”

“I lean forward and kiss you.”

Now, in the past, anything that she’ll do in a hypothetical, she’ll do for real when she’s hypnotized ... as long as the hypothetical isn’t too far removed from real life. If the hypothetical takes place while lions are slowly advancing, she won’t recreate it in our lion-free lounge room.

I wondered if this situation was close enough.

“Lucy, will you kiss me?”

“Yes.”

Well, that was a freebie.

Session A24:

In my last session with Marcie, I’d finally found something that worked. If I woke her up slowly during a hypothetical from her formative years, I could actually change them, giving her a different set of experiences, memories, shaping her into a different woman...

I could rewrite people.

Even then, I didn’t realize how much power I had.

Mom is (unsurprisingly) older than Marcie, so I was going to be going back further, changing memories from decades ago. Anything could have gone wrong, and I really didn’t want to accidentally mess things up.

And so I decided to change something relatively (no pun intended) small: her self-esteem. If I could change how Mom felt about her body, maybe I could convince her to show some more skin around the house. And if I could do that, maybe she wouldn’t mind if Lucy started showing some more skin around the house...

Fortunately, I had the script from Mom’s last session.

“Okay, Mom,” I started. “Hypothetical: when you were eight years old, you skinned your knee...”

Session 25:

My sister, it probably won’t surprise you to learn, is a good kisser.

Well, I didn’t really have much to go on. It was a peck ... she was my sister, what would you expect her to do?

But when we pulled back, she was blushing. I decided to see how far I could push things.

“Okay. Hypothetical—we’re in my room, you caught me crying, I explain that I’ve never been kissed, you offer to show me.”

Nod.

“I thank you for the kiss.”

Nod.

“But ... I explain that it doesn’t really help. What do you say?”

“Why not?”

She sounded offended. I think that was a good sign?

“I explain that I’ve had that kind of kiss before, but not a real kiss...

“ ... what do you say?”

My sister’s arms wrapping around my body took me by surprise. In the past, asking what she said had only resulted in words, as she sat completely still, staring forward. I suppose in this situation, she felt that she couldn’t say what she wanted to say in words, and in no time at all, I could feel her tongue tentatively entering my mouth.

In response, I just froze—in shock, at first, but then in fear. What if I did something wrong? What if I was too forward, unlike her mental image of me, and she woke up? Thus far she’d never even been remotely suspicious about our sessions, but I felt like waking up her her tongue down my throat would change that...

I decided to play it safe, and act the ingenue. I allowed my hands to roam up and down her back, like hers were doing to mine, and I didn’t use my tongue, just enjoyed tasting hers.

It was warm and wet, and like I said, I’ve kissed girls before, but nothing was like this. No one could compare to Lucy.

A part of me knew the kiss was lasting longer than it “should” have, but at the same time it felt far too short—when she finally pulled back, I was comforted only by the knowledge that now she’d done it hypothetically, we could do it any time I wanted.

Any time she was under, of course.

I sat there, stunned, as my flushed sister resumed her earlier position, staring straight ahead, her blank eyes unfocused, and what I thought was a hint of a smile on her face.

Wow.

Session A25:

“Okay Mom—hypothetical. You’re nine years old. You’re looking at a catalogue, and you see a pretty dress...”

I didn’t like to hypnotize anyone more than once a day—it just felt wrong. Too easy to make someone suspicious. Honestly, even once a day felt like too much, but I had so many years that I wanted to get through, and I couldn’t just mash a bunch of them together.

Each year was a different hypothetical to wake her from, and that meant that each change was a whole new session. Fortunately, whether the session was two minutes long or twenty, Mom seemed to find them equally relaxing. It wasn’t hard to convince her to let me put her under each day.