The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I woke up with two worries: I was afraid that my holes would still be sore, and that my tit-size would have grown once again…

I was half right.

The D-cup bra that I’d bought yesterday was already too small for me, but my ass and pussy felt great. I pirouetted in front of the mirror, admiring my ample rear—had it, too, grown?—and wondered why I wasn’t sore. Maybe Marty would be able to…

Marty.

The second that my brother’s face popped into my head, my pussy grew wet, and my nipples perked up. I was an E-cup now, at the very least, and that meant…oh god.

I was a freak. I was the kind of girl who’d sleep with my brother without a second thought. Hell, I’d only been awake for a few minutes, and already the idea was incredibly appealing…

Collapsing backward onto my bed, I tried not to think about my brother in a sexual light. He was just my brother, I told myself, and just because my breasts were one size bigger was no reason to stop thinking of him as a sibling…all I had to do was remember that he was just my sexy older brother, and nothing more.

Wait, no. Not sexy. That wasn’t what I was trying to…

I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. Here was what I was going to do: I was going to get up, go downstairs, and sit down in front of my brother. I was going to try to ignore the way he’d inevitably stare at my tits, or the way that my body would respond…I wasn’t going to let his long, lingering glances at my chest affect my behavior.

I certainly wasn’t going to pull my shirt up and let him have a look. My body was not there to please my brother, and when I saw the outline of his erection pushing against his jeans, I wasn’t going to get down on my knees and fish it out, wrap my lips around it, and let Marty fuck my face until he was shooting his precious, precious cum deep into my throat…

Somehow, while telling myself what I wasn’t going to do, my hand had slipped between my legs, and started stroking up and down my sensitive pussy-lips. At least, I thought, my other hand was just resting casually on my breast, and not pulling at my nipples…although, of course, my new E-cups were apparently so sensitive that just resting there was enough to get me excited.

A few seconds later, I was cumming around my hand, wondering if my brother liked going out with D-cup girls so that he could take their asses. After Patrick and I had finished up in the empty classrooms, I’d managed to persuade two more footballers to sneak away with me and take my ass, and then when I’d gotten home, I’d noticed my forty-year old neighbor staring at me as I walked down the sidewalk.

Staring was rude, but somehow if felt like it would have been more rude not to take him inside and make him fill my ass up with his seed. Twice.

After that, it had been a relatively quiet evening. I’d spent slightly too much time experimenting with various phallus-shaped objects around the house, and had quickly discovered the delight of double-penetration. Believe me, you haven’t known masturbation until you’ve had a cucumber up your butt while slowly sliding a glass rolling-pin inside your freshly-shaved pussy…

I shook my head. I was getting distracted. I’d had a nice morning masturbation session, and that, surely, would be enough to ensure that I could hang around my brother without getting fixated on the long, smooth cock that he was hiding beneath his pants…

Just as I’d expected, Marty stared at me as I descended the stairs. I was wearing a vest—normally it would be worn over a shirt, but none of my clothes would fit over my enormous new bosom, and so I’d decided to wear the vest by itself. It didn’t expose anything…unless, of course, I moved.

(I was making sure to move as much as possible.)

At the back of my wardrobe, I’d managed to find an insanely short skirt…actually, I believe I may have bought it to use as a belt. Whatever the original intent, it really showed off the curves of my ass, and my pussy mound. It went really well with the platform shoes that I’d borrowed from Mom’s wardrobe—I don’t think she’d worn them for more than twenty years, but luckily for me, she never throws anything away.

Marty gaped at the sight of me, and when I was at the bottom of the stairs, I wrapped my hands around his torso, pulled him toward me, and passionately kissed him good morning. For all his smooth moves with his nightly dates, he didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and it was only when I pulled out of the kiss that I remembered that a few minutes of making out wasn’t our standard sibling greeting…

Crap.

Reluctantly removing Marty’s hands from my mostly-exposed ass, I sat down on the stool, and tried to think of what I’d have done on any other day. My tits were interfering with my thinking, however, and making it hard to remember what was normal and what wasn’t. A nice, normal, sister-to-brother blow-job? Did he normally spank me, to break the ice? Or did we just skip the formalities and go straight to him sliding that cock inside his sister’s cunt, pumping in and out until I was full of his cream…

I shut my eyes and tried to remember what Marty’s cock tasted like. I could imagine it easily enough, but I couldn’t remember the flavor, and that was the clue that I needed—I didn’t normally blow him.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized that my vest had flipped open, exposing my pink nipples to Marty’s touch. He was standing in front of me, caressing them in awe.

“Are they…” he said, and I just nodded.

“So you’re…”

I whimpered with need.

“Should we…”

He didn’t need to say another word. His careful fondling had brought me almost to a peak, and I knew that I had to have him inside of me. I barely cared which hole he used, falling desperately to my knees in front of him, unleashing his cock…I was an E-cup, and that meant that I didn’t say no to anything, anyone…I needed his cock, and I needed it now.

Marty looked down at me with a surprisingly smug look on his face as I slurped and slobbered all over his cock. He’d had so many bimbos in the past few weeks, I really hoped that I could compete…one of his hands was still fondling my breasts, and while I desperately wanted to pleasure myself as I blew my sexy older brother, I wanted to make sure to give his hardness my full attention.

Without breaking eye-contact, I slipped his cock into my mouth, further and further. Just like in my fantasy that morning, I took his member deep into my throat, carefully suppressing my gag reflex, letting my brother fuck my face, use me as his little cum-slut…

To my surprise, he didn’t unload into my mouth as I’d been expecting, instead ordering me to turn around. He didn’t take my skirt off—there was no point—and I hadn’t worn any panties, so nothing got in the way as he slowly sunk his hard dick deep into my dripping wet pussy.

“Oh, Marty…” I moaned, as he continued to play with my nipples while fucking me over the kitchen counter. “Oh, big brother…”

With every stroke, my toes curled, and I could feel my pleasure building. As I came, Marty continued to fuck me, as if my spasms of pleasure were completely irrelevant. The thought that I was being used just served to turn me on even more, and my first orgasm had barely passed when I felt the building of another.

“I’m going to cum inside you,” he muttered, and I smiled broadly in response. I could think of nothing better than to be a cock-slut for my big brother—after all, I was an E-cup. I was good for one thing, and one thing only: servicing men, getting them off, and it didn’t matter to me who they were. If 92-year old Mr Richards across the street had even so much as hinted toward wanting me, I would have been on my knees so fast it would have made his head spin.

That would have been dirty, but it was nothing compared to this—this truly proved what a depraved little tramp I was. My own flesh and blood was inside me, fitting so snugly into my velvet pussy, one hand on my nipples, the other hand between our bodies, playing with my puckered asshole.

At the thought of Marty taking my ass, another wave of arousal crept across my body. I was sweating, now—we both were…and I loved it. I wanted him to spit in my mouth, I wanted every one of our fluids to intermingle. I wanted him to cum in my ass…for some reason, that held a greater taboo appeal than anything else.

I considered asking, begging him to, but I quickly realized that wasn’t my place. I was an E-cup—I got told where to take the cum, I didn’t get to decide. My genetics had conspired to make me nothing more than a little sex-slave, and I certainly wasn’t going to try to fight it any more. Anything, anywhere, any time…

My second orgasm triggered Marty’s, and I moaned with pure pleasure as I felt him filling me up with his warmth. I’m never going to shower again, I hazily thought, and even that was enough to turn me on a little more—the idea of spending the rest of my days covered in Marty’s sweat, full of his come…

Fortunately, I quickly worked out that never showering again would severely cut down the number of men willing to fuck me, and Marty joined me in the shower. It was there that he took my ass for the first time, while holding the shower-head against my pussy and flattening me against the glass wall. A part of me wished I could see what we looked like at that moment, and it didn’t take me long to work out that was the other part of my E-cups thinking for me, the part that wanted to be a porn star…

It was that thought that filled my head as I came: I imagined men all over the world were watching Marty fuck me, getting off while voyeuristically observing our incestuous pairing. God, I wanted to be a porn star almost as much as I wanted my brother to fuck me, and as he pounded my asshole, I climaxed again and again at the idea.

I wanted to be watched, I wanted to make men everywhere cum…after Marty had filled my ass and left me to clean up, I decided that I’d need to find a manager, someone to take care of the business side of things. God knew that I wouldn’t be able to—I’d say yes to any offer that involved getting a cock inside me, and probably more so if they offered to film it.

I left for school in a daze, dressed in the clothes that Marty managed to find me—an outfit that one of his various bimbos had left at the house. It was important, he’d emphasized, that I didn’t get expelled for turning up to school practically naked—the clothes were tight and slutty, but they’d probably pass dress-code…

…and if they didn’t, I was sure that I’d be able to wrangle a meeting with the principal, and “persuade him” to let me off the hook, just this once.