Chapter 25

Session 33:

“When Marcie and I started to hook up, she had less spare time for you.”

Nod.

I’d considered erasing Marcie and myself hooking up out of Lucy’s memories entirely. That would be safer, when she inevitably found out what had happened to her best friend.

But ... after seeing what happened to Marcie when she was presented with evidence of something that didn’t match her altered memories, I didn’t really want to take any risk.

And so I’d gone in the other direction.

“You were jealous of Marcie for getting to sleep with me, weren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you were jealous of me for getting to hook up with Marcie, right?”

“Right.”

A week ago ... hell, even a few days ago, that would have made me smile. But now ... I was doing damage control.

There was nothing fun about that.

“And so she started coming around less and less. Whenever we wanted to hook up, I’d go to hers.”

Nod.

I continued for fifteen minutes, spinning the tale of their friendship deteriorating. I kept in Marcie coming over after she got back from vacation, and telling Lucy that she and I were hooking up. I even left in the part where she called me “Master” - Mom had been there for that, and I didn’t want Lucy shutting down if she heard something that didn’t match with her memories.

When it was done, I leaned back and sighed. Now, at least it would take Lucy a few days to notice something was up when she didn’t hear from Marcie - and hopefully she wouldn’t be as crushed to learn what had happened to her.

But I still hadn’t gotten any closer to my ultimate goal. After a week of prep, of getting Lucy excited for a world where she could be her brother’s sex slave ... nothing. I wasn’t any closer.

All that time, wasted.

As I went to wake my sister up, a thought struck me.

Was it wasted?

Obviously I couldn’t go down the path that I’d been intending to - not without risking Lucy going as catatonic as Marcie had. (I shuddered at the thought.) But that didn’t mean that I had to start over.

After all, my sister had these fantasies. Maybe I couldn’t shape the world to ensure they came true ... but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t use them.

Glancing at the clock, I knew it’d have to wait for another time. I was fast reaching the half-hour time limit that I’d set. Going any longer than this made me uncomfortable - I’d gotten away with it with Mom, but there was no way of knowing whether I’d be able to do the same with Lucy.

Wait, no. There was a way.

“After you and Marcie fight, you come into my room and I hypnotize you.”

Nod.

“After waking you up, I hypnotize you again, straight away.”

Nod.

“Does anything about that seem suspicious to you?”

“No. I trust you. You’d never do anything that wasn’t for my benefit.”

I smiled. All this time, I’d been worrying for nothing.

Rolling up my proverbial sleeves, I decided to get to work.

Session 34:

It didn’t take long to wake Lucy up from the last hypothetical (I wanted to lock in her distance from Marcie before I started exploring what else I could do) and put her under again.

True to her word, she didn’t even bat an eyelid.

“Would you tell me why you like being hypnotized?” I asked. I knew there was more important stuff on the agenda, but I had to know.

“Yes.”

“Why do you like being hypnotized?”

“It makes me feel closer to you,” Lucy said, and I smiled. That was a sweet thing to say ... and it was sort of true, too. Our sessions were bringing us closer together - far closer than she knew.

“Okay,” I said. “You wish you were your brother’s slave, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, and even though the word came out in a monotone, there was a distinct moan-ish quality to it.

“You want to fulfill your brother’s every sexual urge, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she monotone moaned. Moanotoned. Mono-moaned?

“You wish that your only purpose in life was to get him off, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“If you could, you’d spend your every waking hour wrapped around his cock, getting it hard and making it cum again and again and again...”

Now I was starting to get carried away.

“Right?”

“Yes.”

We both wanted it so bad. And I knew we were close - we were so close.

So what the fuck was stopping it?

“So why don’t you?”

“Because,” my sister said, her blank eyes staring into mine. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Why?”

“Incest is wrong,” my sister repeated.

“Why?” I asked again, feeling like a kid bugging their parents.

“It just is,” she said, and a hint of sadness entered her monotone.

That felt a lot like a dead end. The only thing that I could really do from there was tell her that no, incest wasn’t wrong ... and that was what had lead to her best friend Blue Screen of Death-ing.

So I had to try another tack.

“Okay,” I said, after a few seconds to think. “You want to serve your brother, right?”

“Yes, “ she montoned insistently.

“But you can’t do anything sexual with him because it’s wrong.”

“Yes.”

“But there are other ways that you can serve him, aren’t there?”

There was a pause, and I could almost see the gears in my sister’s hypnotized head turning.

“Yes,” she eventually admitted.

“Like what?”

“I could make breakfast for him.”

“Good,” I said, and I swear she preened slightly at the praise.

My sister making breakfast for me was a nice bonus. She’s pretty good in the kitchen.

I mean, I guess it had always been part of the long-term plan. My sister, naked in the kitchen, obeying my every command. The delicious breakfast hadn’t exactly been the goal, but I guess the time between getting off has to be filled somehow.

“What else?”

“I could help him with his homework.”

Sure.

“What else?”

For the next few minutes, my sister continued to list mundane chores that she could help me out with around the house. As she did, I was surprised to see her breathing getting faster, and a slight pink appear in her cheeks.

“It would be sexy to be a servant for your brother, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be hot to treat him as your master?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you wish you were his personal slave?”

“Yes.”

“He wouldn’t even have to know, would he?”

“No.”

“It would be hot to be your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod.

“Say it.”

“It would be hot to be my brother’s secret slave.”

“Tell me that you want to be my secret slave.”

“I want to be your secret slave.”

“Do you know what else you could do for your brother?”

“What?”

“You’d do anything, wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause, and I realized that I’d gotten carried away. I was hard as a rock at the sight of my panting sister, practically getting off just at the idea of making my bed in the morning.

“As long as it wasn’t incest.”

“Yes.”

“Say that you’d do anything for your brother, as long as it wasn’t incest.”

“I’d do anything for my brother, as long as it wasn’t incest.”

“One thing you could do for your brother is give him something to look at.”

There was a pause as I let that sink in.

“You’ve been teasing your brother for months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, after a reluctant pause.

“It’s not incest if it’s only teasing, is it?”

Again, that reluctance, but eventually she admitted that it wasn’t.

I considered telling her that I wouldn’t notice, using the same lines that I had on Mom. That family didn’t notice each other sexually, or that it was totally safe ... but something held me back.

To begin with, it probably wouldn’t work. Telling my sister that siblings never noticed each other sexually wasn’t going to fly when she was getting herself off every night thinking of my cock.

But more than that ... it was totally counter to my goals. I wanted my sister to embrace the taboo of what we were doing, to revel in the inherent wrongness of her own feelings. Pretending that I wasn’t going to check her out ran counter to that - she already saw me as a sexual being, and for my long-term plans to work, I needed to lean into that.

“Imagine your brother getting hard at the sight of your body.”

There was a pause, and the blush deepening on Lucy’s cheeks told me that she was doing what I’d suggested.

“Hypothetical: you start acting as your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod. No hesitation.

“You get more and more turned on every time you do something for him.”

My sister nodded, fast and furious.

“Whenever he innocently asks you for something, you do it immediately.”

Nod. I hadn’t been sure how well she’d take that one, but it was clear that I was in ‘the zone’.

“You spend the entire weekend obeying your brother’s every command.”

Nod.

“You’re his secret slave, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“You spend all day anticipating his whims, trying to please him, and he never even notices.

Nod.

“That makes it even hotter, doesn’t it? You’re his secret slave, secret even from him.”

Nod.

“It becomes your life.”

Nod.

“All day, every day, whenever you’re at home you’re doing favors for your brother.”

Nod.

“Whenever he orders you to do something, you obey immediately.”

Nod.

“You’re in a constant sexual haze, aren’t you?”

“Yesss...”

“One day, he mentions that he likes your tight blue jeans. What do you do?”

There was a pause - it was so brief that if I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have thought that she’d answered immediately. But it was there.

“I put on my tight blue jeans.”

“Why?”

“Because...”

Again, that tiny pause.

“ ... he likes them.”

I grinned.

“Your brother is a hot-blooded male, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What do men like?”

My sister’s forehead creased for a moment, but she soon began listing stuff.

“Steak. Blowjobs. Action movies. Football. Stewardesses. Gadgets. Tom Sell-...”

I cut her off, despite being curios about how much longer she would have listed man stuff.

“Stop.”

As she stopped, I saw a slight shiver go through her body. She was really getting off on obeying me.

This was going to be fun.

“Your brother is a straight guy, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“What do straight guys like?”

“Blowjobs. Women. Bikinis. Short skirts. Legs. Boobs. Sex with women. Facials...”

This time I did let her go on for a while. Eventually, when it was clear that she was running out of stuff, I began talking again.

“Men like being teased, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Straight men like women in skimpy clothing, especially if it’s for them. Right?”

“Yes,” my sister said, this time without delay.

“Your brother would like it if you wore less clothing around the house, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“It would be fun to do what your brother likes, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be hot to tease your brother, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“It wouldn’t be incest though, would it?”

“No,” Lucy said, after a long pause.

“Hypothetical: you decide to become your brother’s secret slave.”

Nod.

“You obey his every non-sexual command, and do what you can to make his life better.”

Nod.

“You’re constantly turned on, your mind overtaken by lust.”

Nod.

“And you tease him, dressing in skimpy clothing as you do.”

Pause.

Shiver.

Nod.

Session 35:

That weekend was a blast. I didn’t have to lift a finger - every time I wanted something, either Lucy was already on her way or all I had to do was ask.

On top of that, the show was back. She must have changed outfits at least a dozen times over the course of the two days - short skirts, bikinis, tank tops. When Mom came home on Saturday night, Lucy was wearing a white button-up shirt and a tiny denim skirt with a thong underneath.

Only one button of the shirt was done up, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Mom didn’t say anything, of course - honestly, I don’t know if she even noticed.

After all, as far as she’s concerned: family don’t notice what each another are wearing.

But the best part was that unlike before, when I had to pretend not to notice when Lucy was leaning over in front of me and giving me a generous view of her cleavage (with a hint of nipple), I could stare as frankly as I liked.

No, more than that: Lucy wanted me to stare. She’d get down on her knees in front of me (to pick up something I’d dropped or whatever) and then stay there, biting her lip slightly as she noticed me staring directly down her top.

Her breathing would get faster and faster as she watched me checking her out, and then her eyes would flick down to my boner, and she’d make some excuse to leave.

When she came back, her face would be bright pink, and she’d be wearing a completely new outfit - one sluttier than before.

It didn’t take a genius to work out what she was running off to do.

By Sunday night, she was wearing something clearly not appropriate for around the house. I don’t think she even cared any more - she’d taken my comment about being in a sexual stupor to heart, and now she was just letting her pussy do the thinking.

It was a set of black lingerie - I’d guess that she stole it from Mom’s wardrobe, except I know that Mom doesn’t own anything like that (because I didn’t buy it for her). Either Lucy had gone shopping at some point since our sessions began, or - and I don’t know why this thought turned me on so much - she’d owned extremely naughty underwear even before I’d started working on her.

She looked great in it. I mean, you could make the argument that I’d think Lucy looked great in anything, but she really did rock this particular outfit.

It probably helped that there was practically nothing to it.

They were basically just a thong and a bra ... except without any of the material you’d expect a thong and bra to come with. Really, it was a set of black straps - the only thing that stopped them from revealing everything was the black fringe that hung down over her nipples and crotch.

Every time she moved, swayed, flounced, or was hit by the slightest of breezes, the fringe would shift, and for a single tantalizing moment, you could see everything.

Then, just as quickly, the fringe would settle, and it was all hidden once more.

Incredible.

The moment I saw them, my eyes practically fell out of my head, and just my reaction was enough to make Lucy whimper with lust. We just stood there for a few minutes, me staring at her ridiculous body, her getting increasingly flushed, her nipples hardening, her breathing turning into panting.

Less than five minutes after she walked into the room, she turned around again, leaving me watching as that perfect ass sashayed out of the room.

This time, I followed her.

I entered her room without knocking - if her guilty look hadn’t been enough to tell me what she’d been up to, the smell of female arousal in the room - or the position of her hands - would have.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, and when I told her to be quiet, her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.

She didn’t question me when I told her I was going to put her under. And when I had her staring blankly at me a few minutes later, I didn’t hesitate to execute the next part of my plan.