Chapter 10

Session B22:

“What did you dream about last night?”

“You fucking me.”

“When did you last masturbate?”

“This morning.”

“What did you think about when you did?”

“You fucking me.”

“Do you find the idea of me fucking you sexy?”

“Yup.”

My sister’s best friend. My favorite test subject; if I wasn’t sure if something would work on Lucy, I came to Marcie first, and tested it out. She was sexually open in every way except actual intercourse, and my next goal was simple—I wanted to find a way to get her past her weird hang-up, and into bed.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

There was a long pause, and a lot of twitching. I just sat and watched Marcie struggle with her desires. On one hand, I knew that she really wanted me to fuck her—on the other hand, she considered it a big step, a commitment of sorts.

I could have stepped in, but I really wanted to see which side won.

“ ... nope,” she finally said. There’d been a risk of her waking up, but I wasn’t worried—I hadn’t started a hypothetical. Her memories were safe.

“Why don’t you want me to fuck you?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You don’t love me.”

“Do you love me?”

“No way.”

I know it shouldn’t have—I was literally using her as a play-thing and lab rat—but yeah, that stung a little.

“Why does it matter if I love you?’

“You should only fuck someone if you’re in love.”

I paused for a second, before remembering one of the first hypotheticals that ever worked on Lucy.

“Who do you think is the hottest actor in Hollywood?” I asked, and was surprised when the answer of “Josh Hutcherson” back. I didn’t even know who that was.

“Okay,” I continued, undeterred. “Hypothetical: Josh Hutcherson comes by your house.”

“Yuh huh.”

I had to be careful not to wake her up from this one ... if she started telling people about the time Josh Hutcherson visited her, everyone would think she was crazy.

“He says that he got your email—you wrote him an email—and he thinks you’re gorgeous. You attached a photo.”

I paused, let her process the information, and had to hold back a laugh as a blush spread across her face.

“What do you say?”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my GOD!”

Phew. I was glad I’d done this when no one else was home. I rubbed my ear in pain, and shushed the excited girl.

“If Josh Hutcherson made a move, would you let him fuck you?”

“Of freaking course.” No hesitation there.

“But are you two in love?”

“Not yet.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her optimism.

“So it’s okay to fuck when you’re not in love, right?”

“Right. When it’s Josh freaking Hutcherson.”

Sometimes her slang sounded so strange, coming out of her in a monotone.

“So it’s okay to fuck someone if you’re not in love ... if you think they’re sexy. Right?’

“Well ... yeah. I guess.”

“Yes or no, Marcie?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah ... if you’ve had a crush on them forever.”

I smiled. She’d opened a window; all I needed to do was climb in.

Session B23: I’d spent the rest of our last session implanting memories of a crush that Marcie had had on me forever. It wasn’t hard—perhaps I was just getting better at it. Snippets here, snippets there, tie them all together, and then wake her up slowly and suddenly she believes that she’s been wanting me her whole life. I even managed to tie it into the first time we hypothetically hooked up, altering the memory I’d already implanted, making our first kiss the culmination of years of her desiring me.

Now, to see if all that work had paid off.

“Marcie.”

“Mmm?”

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

“You fucking me.”

“What do you think about every time you masturbate?”

“You fucking me.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Years.”

“How many years?”

“As long as I’ve known you.”

I took a deep breath, and asked the ten thousand dollar question.

“Hypothetical: we’re fooling around. You’ve just started going down on me, and I tap you on the shoulder and ask if I can fuck you. What do you say?”

“Of course.”

It was almost too easy.

Meanwhile, progress with Mom was slow going. A week or two ago, I’d successfully convinced her that if Lucy and I met as adults, it would be okay for us to hook up. I wasn’t sure exactly where I could go with that, but it felt like a big step forward. I’d spent the next four or five sessions trying to expand on it, but thus far I’d been having no luck.

But I remembered from my early days with Lucy, the only way forward was to play around until you found something that stuck. And so I’d started leading Mom down random alley-ways, turning back each time a hit a dead-end.

Finally, I found something. It wasn’t exactly what I’d been planning, but it was something I could work with.

Session A23:

“Do you still think incest is wrong if it’s between animals?”

“No.”

Not that. That wasn’t what worked. That was just another example of me casting a line and seeing what I could catch.

“Do you think it’s wrong for a brother to be sexually attracted to his sister?”

“Yes.”

“What if she’s really, really hot?”

“It’s still wrong.”

As you can tell, I was getting pretty desperate. I’d started just asking whatever random questions came to mind.

“Would you have a problem if Lucy started wearing short skirts all the time?”

Hell, Lucy would have a problem herself if she started wearing short skirts all the time. But like I said, I was fishing.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

There was a long pause, and I tentatively allowed myself to be hopeful.

“ ... it just wouldn’t be.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile. I’d found a gap. “Would you ever wear a short skirt?”

“No.”

It was true. I’d never seen Mom in anything shorter than a knee-length dress.

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Why not?”

“Because ... my legs aren’t good enough.”

Interesting. Also, incidentally: false. From what I’d seen of Mom’s legs, she could easily get away with a short skirt. Just the idea of it was enough to get me hard.

“Are Lucy’s legs good enough?”

Another long pause.

“Yes.”

“So why can’t she wear one?”

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But why not?”

“It just wouldn’t be.”

Mothers. Even through a monotone, I got the distinct “and that’s final” tone from her words. But I wasn’t done yet—there was something here, and I wanted to explore it.