No More Limits
by Pan
Chapter 6:
Session C8:
“Tell me what the article is about, Richard.”
“It said that…”
There was a pause, and for a moment I thought he was going to wake up. That would be awkward—I didn’t really want to implant a memory of me getting him to randomly read a sexuality textbook.
Fortunately, the hesitation passed, and he answered in a deep monotone that I was getting increasingly familiar with.
“…it said that the subjects’ happiness is increased when they had sexual intercourse more than twice each week.”
Richard is some kind of professor, so it doesn’t surprise me that he stated it more formally than my mother had. I was hoping that his academic background would also mean that he paid more heed to studies like the one I’d just had him read, but it could have gone either way.
Only one way to find out.
“Do you agree with those findings?” I asked, after getting him to hand the book back.
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Why?”
“The data is there, plus…well, it makes sense.”
Great.
“Do you have sex more than twice each week, Richard?”
“Thanks so much for that—I don’t really know why it helps, but it does.”
Fuck. Eight sessions in and this was the first time I’d accidentally woken him up early. It was my own fault, of course, but still—I’d gotten so good at this.
At least I’d finally found something I could use.
Session A64:
“Would you tell me why you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”
“No.”
I was sure that answering that question would unlock a lot of doors.
“Would you…would you tell Lucy why you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”
“No.”
“Would you tell Marcie?”
“No.”
Made sense. Luce and Mom are close, but they aren’t exactly giggling besties and I had already established that for whatever reason, Mom didn’t like Marcie
“Would you tell me if there’s anyone you would tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children to?”
Whew. What a mouthful. But she answered straight away.
“Yes.”
“Is there anyone you would tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell me who?”
“Yes.”
“Who would you tell the reason you don’t like talking about sex with your children?”
“Other parents.”
Interesting.
Not, of course, that there was anything I could particularly do with that. But it was definitely interesting.
I wanted to fuck my mother. Believe me, if you met her, you’d understand. And if you’d seen her the way I had—doing laundry in her panties, watching TV in a sexy teddy that I’d ordered online and added to her wardrobe…you’d want to fuck her too.
But right now, that wasn’t the priority. Right now, I wanted her to be okay with me and Lucy fucking. Or at least…not notice.
“Okay,” I said. “You want to avoid talking about sex with your children, right?”
“Yes.”
“So if you walked in on one of your children having sex…”
I paused, but Mom showed no signs of waking up.
“…you would have to talk to them about it, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You want to avoid walking in on your children having sex, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So if they’re in a room with the door closed, what will you do?”
“Knock before I come in.”
Damn. I mean, that was obviously better, but what I really wanted was for her to avoid the door entirely. If—fingers crossed—I managed to get Lucy in bed in the next week, I wanted to make sure that Mom wasn’t going to knock and ruin everything. I wanted Mom to stay away.
Well, honestly, I wanted Mom to join in…but I wasn’t there yet, I knew that.
“Okay,” I said after a moment’s thought. “You want your children to be happy, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And your children will be happier if they’re having sex three or more times each week, won’t they?”
“Yes.”
“If your children have their door closed, they might be having sex. Right?”
“Yes.”
Bit of a pause, but we got there.
“If you knock, they’re going to stop having sex, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
A longer pause that time, but nothing worth worrying about.
“So if you knock on your children’s closed doors, you might be stopping them from having sex. Right?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re knocking on your children’s doors, you’re stopping them from being happy. Is that correct?”
This time, a significantly longer pause, but it wasn’t long before the answer came through clearly.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to stop your children from being happy?”
“No.”
“What will you do if your children’s bedroom doors are closed?”
“Nothing.”
“Will you knock on the doors of your children’s bedrooms if they’re closed?”
“No.”
Good. Now, of course, I just had to see if the change in attitude transferred to real life.
Session A171:
“What does it mean if your children’s bedroom door is closed?”
“They’re having sex.”
“And what will you do if your children’s bedroom doors are closed?”
“Press my ear up against it.”
“Why?”
“In the hope that I…”
There was a long pause, but I’d learned a while ago that with Mom, I just had to push through it.
“…in the hope that I can hear them.”
Session A64:
I considered waking her up, but I had a few more minutes on the clock, and one last thing I wanted to check.
“It’s important that your children are happy, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
It could be argued that I was over-relying on the one theme, but…well, it was so effective. Maybe because it’s such a primal urge, or maybe because it’s something that’s always on a single mother’s mind, or maybe just because of the way Mom is built, but starting from a point of “your children’s happiness” was just so reliable.
“People who have sex three or more times each week are happier, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Your children should be having sex three or more times each week, shouldn’t they?”
“Yes.”
I loved hearing her say that.
“But they can only be doing that if they know about it, can’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Your son knows about it already from the textbook, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“But Lucy doesn’t know, does she?”
There was a brief silence before Mom’s soft monotone gave the answer.
“No.”
“Someone needs to tell her, don’t they?”
Again, a silence—much longer this time. I wasn’t worried though; we weren’t in the middle of a hypothetical, and so Mom waking up wasn’t a total disaster.
“Yes.”
“You and I are the only ones who know about it. Who do you think it should be?”
I was genuinely curious to hear the answer to this one. For whatever reason, Mom didn’t like talking to us about sex, but I could hardly imagine her recommending I tell my sister she needed to get laid more.
The pause stretched on, but Mom showed no signs of waking up. Finally, she answered.
“Me.”
My lips curled in triumph. Apparently Mom’s refusal to talk about sex didn’t apply when her children’s happiness was in the way.
Keep in mind, I had no idea if she was actually going to follow through on this. I can sort of change attitudes, but slowly drifting someone awake during a hypothetical was the only way to directly alter my subjects’ minds.
And that was certainly achievable. I could easily concoct a hypothetical situation where she’s being hypnotized by me (true) and wakes up with a burning desire to tell Lucy the new facts she’s learned about sex and happiness…but I wasn’t really sure if it was worth it.
After all, it was information that I could just give Lucy directly, and I don’t really know what the benefits of my sister hearing it from Mom would be. It might make Mom suspicious, it might make her question the hypnosis generally…and, of course, Lucy might notice something was up. Mom hasn’t talked to us about sex for our entire lives, so her suddenly rocking up and going “Hey, make sure you get laid on a weekly basis!” was sure to raise suspicions.
I ended up just waking her up without any orders to talk to my sister about what she’d learned. Still, it was good to know that her children’s well-being seemed to trump her restrictions on talking about sex…
Session 30:
“Hypothetical: we live in a word where incest isn’t wrong.”
Nod.
I still couldn’t believe it. It was tempting to spend another half-hour (or more) just listening to Lucy talk about all the things we could be doing, everything that she’d spent the last few weeks fantasizing about…
But I know that road, and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Listening to my sister’s soft monotone describe all nature of sexual acts would be fun, but wouldn’t get me any closer to the real goal—doing them.
“Okay. New hypothetical: you have a dream in which incest is normal.”
Nod.
“You dream that you’re allowed to fuck your family members without any judgement, that you can have sex with your brother and no one thinks there’s anything weird about it.”
Nod.
“You wake up horny and disappointed.”
Nod.
“The next night, you have that dream again.”
Nod.
“And the next night, and the next night.”
Nod.
“Every night, you dream that you’re allowed to fuck your brother, that you and him do every sexual act you’ve been dreaming of…”
Nod.
“And every morning, you wake up soaking wet.”
Nod.
“Every morning, you play with yourself at the images from your dreams.”
Nod.
“You cum, thinking about your brother fucking you, thinking about sucking his cock, taking him in your ass. You get yourself off thinking about how wrong it is, about how sick you must be for thinking about it.”
Nod.
“More than anything, you want that dream to be real. Whenever you cum, you feel dirty…and turned on by how dirty you are for having these fantasies.”
Nod.
Damn, sis.
As you can imagine, I was hard as a rock, and the change in my sister’s breathing told me that she was getting pretty worked up as well. I so badly wanted to tell her to take her top off, get her to lick my dick until I came in her mouth…but I couldn’t.
What had quickly become my favorite way to cum was now off-limits, at least until I got my sister to the next stage.
Whatever that was.
“More than anything, you want to fuck your brother.”
Nod.
“Say it.”
“More than anything, I want to fuck my brother.”
I sighed.
The temptation was still there. I wanted to wake her up thinking that the world of her dreams was reality. I wanted to wake her up, strip her off, and sink myself into my sister’s wet, willing pussy. I wanted to latch onto her perfect breasts and suck her nipples while she rode my cock…but I couldn’t.
Not yet. Not until I knew what would happen.
Session B37:
“Okay,” I said, after briefly pausing for thought. “The only situation in which you’d hook up with Lucy is if you and I weren’t sleeping together.”
No response. Not that I particularly expected one—I hadn’t asked a question, after all. My mind was just rolling the information around, seeing what I could come up with.
“What if…”
My eyes slowly widened as an idea struck me.
At first, Marcie had been a testing ground—someone for me to try stuff out on before using it on my sister. Now, of course, she meant a lot more to me…but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t also be a place to test new ideas.
“Hypothetical,” I said cautiously, as if afraid I was going to break her.
“You live in a world where hooking up with a brother and sister at the same time isn’t weird.”