Chapter 16

Session B112:

Marcie’s father was out when we dropped by. She’d only been institutionalized briefly—the doctors had quickly determined that she wasn’t a threat to herself or to others, and though she needed a carer, she didn’t require constant supervision.

Her mother was long gone, but her father was still around. He seemed like he was really struggling—the few times I briefly ran into him, he just thanked me for coming to visit his daughter.

“At least we know who her true friends are,” he’d said once, as if I needed to feel any worse.

“Hey Marcie,” I said, eliciting no response until I stepped forward and cupped her breasts. She moaned at my touch, as I knew she would. “Your master is here.”

Session 28:

“Hypothetical: when you masturbate, you think about my cock.”

Nod.

I’d expected her to accept that, but it was good to know that we hadn’t gone backwards since last week.

“You think about how frustrated I must feel...”

Nod.

“And how awful it must be, not being able to cum every day like you do.”

Nod.

“You think I’m very sexy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You think your brother is sexy.”

Nod.

“How does it make you feel, knowing that he isn’t cumming as often as he should?”

“Sad.”

“Does it make you feel frustrated?”

“Yes.”

“It’s frustrating not being able to cum, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“When you’re masturbating, you think about how frustrated I must feel, and you start to feel it as well.”

Nod.

“You can’t cum, because you know I can’t cum.”

Shake.

Not even a pause. Just an instant rejection of the hypothetical. I paused—that wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

“You have no trouble cumming, even though you know I can’t?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t affect it at all?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

I swear I saw a proud smile appear on my sister’s otherwise-neutral face as she replied.

“I never have any trouble cumming.”

Damn it.

I mean, on one hand, that was super hot to hear—and think about. Apparently my sister came easy ... good to know.

But it did make my job a bit harder.

As far as my sister was concerned, I’d abruptly stopped masturbating. No longer could she spy on me from outside the bathroom door, secretly getting herself off as she did.

I was hoping to leverage the fact into stopping her orgasms as well, leaving her horny, desperate to make me cum so that she could as well. No such luck.

We sat there in silence for a few seconds, as I hastily constructed a backup plan.

“Okay,” I said eventually. I had a new path to go down; hopefully this one wouldn’t be stymied by my sister’s easy orgasms.

“When you masturbate, you think about me.”

Nod.

“You think about me wrapping my hand around my cock and stroking it until I get off.”

Nod.

“When you cum, you imagine me cumming.”

Nod.

“But even while you’re having an orgasm, you know that it’s been a week since I got off.”

Nod.

“That makes you sad, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Your orgasms aren’t as good when you’re sad, are they?”

There was a slight pause, and for a second I thought my sister was going to admit to being some kind of sex robot, always able to cum powerfully, no matter what else was happening in her life.

Which would be, y’know, fun. But distinctly unhelpful. My sister the sex robot.

“No,” she finally answered, and I smiled.

“When you’re sad, your orgasms aren’t quite as satisfying, are they?”

“No.”

“So once you’ve cum, you’re still a little bit horny, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered—again, there was a slight pause, but I think what I was saying made too much sense for her to deny it.

“When something is unsatisfying, it means you want more, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

I was going to be the first person to fuck his sister through use of dictionary definitions.

“So after you’ve had something that’s unsatisfying, you want another one.”

Nod.

“And if that one is unsatisfying, you want another one after that, right?”

“Yes.”

“So if you have an unsatisfying orgasm, you want to have another one straight after, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me the most number of times you’ve orgasmed in a day?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it’s more than five?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever had more than five orgasms in a day?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if it’s more than three?”

“No.”

I had a ball-park figure, at least. Time to bring it all together.

“So when you know I’m not masturbating, it makes you sad.”

Nod.

“And when you play with yourself, you think about my cock.”

Nod.

“So whenever you masturbate, you get sad because I’m not, and it give you unsatisfying orgasms.”

Nod.

“After you cum, you have to cum again.”

Nod.

“And after that, you need to cum again and again and again.”

Nod. I had hoped that by leaving the number vague, it wouldn’t trigger my sister’s reluctance to share exact numbers ... but “again and again and again” sounds like it’s at least three times to me.

“Every day, you cum a number of times, but you’re never satisfied.”

Nod.

“You’re still horny after you cum.”

Nod.

“That means you’re horny all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” my sister said in her soft monotone.

I could have woken her up here—the idea of my sister walking around all day, horny and unsatisfied, even as she flashed her little brother ... it was tempting.

But I wanted to push it further than that. She was squirming slightly in her seat at the scenario I was putting in her head, of her wandering around all day turned-on and unable to do anything about it.

I was pushing her limits further than I’d ever pushed them before. I could feel it.

Session A60:

“Mom?”

Nothing.

“Mom, can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Mom, answer me. Can you hear what I’m saying?”

No response.

I had absolutely no idea how to deal with what had just happened—I’d come home to find my mother flipping through a photo album, tears running down her face, struggling to breathe.

I’d panicked, and put her under. She hadn’t resisted as I went through the usual routine, and now she was sitting in front of me, staring blankly, not saying a word.

“Okay Mom. What’s your daughter’s name?”

Nothing.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

“Mom?”

Session 28: I ran the situation from a few different angles before I continued, making sure I really let it sink in.

“It’s frustrating, walking around horny all the time, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lucy replied, and even though her voice was completely expressionless, I could see the desperation in her eyes.

“Okay. One day, you’re walking past my room and you see me inside, crying.”

Nod. Her facial expression immediately softened. For whatever reason, my sister is an absolute sucker for her little brother’s tears. If I could fake-cry in real life, I bet I’d have her in bed within a week.

“What do you do?”

“I walk inside,” she said, “sit on your bed, and put one arm around you.”

“I’m still crying. What do you say?”

“What’s wrong, bro?”

Session A60:

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

She just sat there as she had for so many sessions before now, staring blankly. She was dressed in what was becoming one of my mother’s standard around-the-house outfits—a white button-up vest that showed off her plentiful cleavage, and a black skirt that ended just above her knees.

It was sexy as hell, but in that moment, I barely even noticed. I was wracking my brain, trying to get my mother to talk.

“Would you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nod.

She nodded! That was something. I picked up the photo album, still sitting open on her lap. As I looked through it, my heart sank.

It was pictures of Mom when she was younger, in her mid-twenties. And—in stark contrast to the memories I’d implanted—she was conservatively dressed.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Session 28:

“I don’t want to talk about it. What do you do?”

“Insist.”

“When I turn to look at you, you can see that my eyes are red and puffy.”

The thicker I lay it on, the more effective it seems to be. Maybe it’s her maternal instinct or whatever.

“I tell you that you won’t understand, that it’s not something I want to talk about with my sister.”

The more she leads, the less suspicious she seems to finds it.

“What do you say?”

“Come on,” she said, a playful tone in her voice. “I promise not to be weird about it.”

“I sigh, and nod.”

I paused, partially to arrange my thoughts, partially to build tension.

“I tell you that I think there’s something wrong with my thingy.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I ask you what you mean.”

Here it was. The moment of truth. My sister had stopped fidgeting in her seat—whether that meant her arousal had faded or if she was just trying to conceal it from hypothetical me, I didn’t know, but I hoped that it would still have an influence over her actions.

“I explain that it hurts when I touch it. What do you say?”

“Oh!”

My sister practically yelped in surprise, by far the loudest she’d ever been in one of our sessions. Thank goodness Mom wasn’t home ... of course, if Mom was home, I wouldn’t be hypnotizing my sister in the living-room.

I considered moving it to the bedroom, but I didn’t want to wake her up in a different spot, and I definitely didn’t want to hypnotize her twice in one night. No, whatever happened, I needed to get it to work in the living-room.

“Do...”

She hesitated, and I leaned forward in anticipation.

“Do you want me to have a look?”

I don’t think Lucy was even aware of the fact that she’d licked her lips slightly as she spoke—by this point, my cock must have practically been an obsession for her. She was cumming three or four times a day (minimum) thinking about it, and it was the indirect cause of her walking around horny all day.

Every day.

“I look horrified,” I said, fighting the urge to scream ‘yes’ and whip it out. “I tell you that I could never ask you to do that—that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

“What do you say?”

“Oh come on,” Lucy said, and though her face remained impassive, I could tell from her tone of voice that she wanted to roll her eyes. “It’s not like I’ve never seen it before. Remember when you broke your arms? I must have seen it what, like fifty times?”

“Thirty-four to thirty-seven times,” I muttered to myself with a smile. “I tell you that this is different—that in the hospital, it was an emergency. What do you say?”

“It sounds like this might be an emergency,” she said, trying—and failing—to hide her eagerness. “Come on. Bring it out, let’s see if we can work out what’s wrong.”

“I tell you I won’t,” I said, wanting to see how far I could get her to go. At worst, I figure I can just restart the hypothetical ... but I was curious as to how effectively I’d made her want to see my cock, whether it was just to help out her brother in a time of need ... or for reasons she wouldn’t even admit to herself. “What do you say?”

“I’m not leaving until you show me,” she said, and I grinned. I couldn’t wait any longer—Lucy wanted to see my hypothetical cock, and I wanted to hypothetically show it to her.

“Okay. I agree, reluctantly, and make you promise not to freak out. What do you do?”

“I close the door and I promise.”

Good thinking.

“I unzip my pants and pull out my cock. It’s exactly like you remember seeing it, but slightly more engorged and red. It doesn’t look infected or anything like that, just ... frustrated.”

I saw Lucy shiver as I described my penis to her.

This was going to work. I just knew it.

Session 25:

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

“I’d jerk you off.”

“In what circumstances?”

“If you needed me to.”

Session 45:

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

“I’d ... I’d...”

I stopped her, before I overwhelmed my poor sister. After I was sure she’d calmed down, I continued.

Session 5:

“Tell me... —”

I cut myself off. There had to be an easier way of doing this. Every time I asked her the wrong question, she’d wake up—I needed to work out a way of learning what information she would give me.

And then it hit me—why not just ask?

“Will you tell me about the first time you had sex?”

“No.”

It worked! Maybe. I had to find something else to test it on.

“Will you tell me what color panties you’re wearing?”

“No.”

All good so far. I mean, not ideal, but at least she wasn’t waking up.

“Will you tell me ... what you think of me?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of me?”

“I think you’re all right.”

Glowing praise, courtesy of my sister Lucy.

“Will you tell me...”

I was just fishing now, trying to find her limits.

“Will you tell me the most sexual thing you’d do with me?”

“Yes.”

My eyebrows raised. That was unexpected.

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

“Nothing. I will never do anything sexual with you.”

Ah.

Still, worth seeing if there was anything I could do to change that.

Session 28:

“I explain that my cock hurts if I touch it, and that I haven’t even been able to jerk off for a few weeks now.”

Nod. I’d accidentally extended the timeline, but she didn’t seem to mind, and I figured the longer the better.

“What do you do?”

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

She wasn’t even trying for subtlety. There was a slight breathiness in her voice. I loved it.

“Like what?”

There was a pause, and I realized what I’d said.

“‘Like what?’, I ask you. What do you do?”

Her breathing was definitely getting faster now. She was wearing a low-cut top with no bra, and her breasts heaved with every breath she took.

“I sort of shrug, and say whatever.”

Whatever? That’s an open invitation if I’ve ever heard one ... But I decided to play it cautiously.

“Will you tell me what you mean by whatever?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean by whatever?”

“Jerking you off.”

I slumped back in my seat. That was nice, obviously, but ... there had to be more.

After a minute of silent contemplation, I decided to press on. She’d jerked me off before—only in the hypothetical, of course, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to fuck her ... but we probably weren’t there yet, hard as it was to admit.

“I ask what you mean by ‘whatever’. What do you say?”

“Y’know ... whatever.”

My sister, it seemed, had suddenly gone shy. I knew what she meant, but if I couldn’t get her to hypothetically explain it to me, then that meant I’d have to suggest it ... and experience had shown me that things rarely went well when I was the aggressor.

“I start to cry again.”

Why not?

“I tell you, through sobs, that it feels so bad ... that I haven’t gotten off in so long, and it’s starting to hurt.”

Nod.

“It’s obvious that I really need your help.”

Nod.

“What do you do?”

“I...”

There was a long pause, and for a second I thought Lucy was going to wake up. It wouldn’t be the end of the world—we weren’t in a particularly compromising position or anything, but holy fuck it would be frustrating. Marcie was back in a few days, but I thought for sure this was the night I’d finally make some progress with my sister.

I guess I could have just jerked off on her tits again, but I was hungry for more.

I needed more.

“ ... I ask if you want me to jerk you off.”

Honestly, at this stage, I’d take that. I’d never actually felt my sister’s hand around my cock—the thirty-four to thirty-seven times had been completely hypothetical—but I could push this further. I knew I could.

Session A60:

“Okay Mom...”

My brain was racing, trying to come up with a way to get out of this. I’d never had someone experience a disconnect between the memories I’d implanted and reality. Maybe I’d broken my mother?

No. No, that couldn’t be the case. There had to be something I could do.

“Okay. Hypothetical.”

Nod. That was a good sign.

“You ... your parents are quite conservative.”

Nod. This one was true.

“When...”

I wanted to spin this story quickly, before Lucy came home, but it also couldn’t have any holes in it or it’d make the situation worse.

“When you start showing more skin at home, they disapprove.”

Nothing.

“It’s okay for family to look at each other,” I added, “but they’re worried that the neighbors might see.”

Nod.

Now I had to deal with the impact of hypothetical neighbors ... but that was something I could sort out later.