Diet
by Pan
Chapter 1:
My sister isn’t fat.
I feel like I should mention that up front. You can call my sister many things—I have, over the years—but ‘fat’ isn’t one of them.
I can see why she feels that way though. In a word?
Tits.
It’s more complicated than that, obviously, but that’s got to be the main factor. Cynthia has some of THE largest tits you’ve ever seen. They’re magnificent. No matter what she’s wearing, no matter how much she tries to hide them (and god knows she tries to hide them), her huge tits are the first thing everyone notices about her.
Yes, even me.
Her tits came in almost the moment she hit puberty, and from the moment I hit puberty I’ve been obsessed with them. It seriously feels like they haven’t stopped growing since she was twelve.
Cynthia probably can’t even see her feet. Again, just to be clear—not because she’s fat. Just because she’s hella busty.
My mother, on the other hand…look, she’s definitely large. I wouldn’t call her ‘fat’, but I also wouldn’t be able to argue that she’s not, y’know?
Ever since Dad died, Mom has really let herself go. Not the the point of being, like morbidly obese. Just…
Yeah. Large.
And here’s the thing: Mom had huge tits even before she put on any weight. I found an old family photo-album and checked. But the advantage of getting bigger is that you get bigger.
My mother had huge tits to begin with, then she put on a bunch of weight and they got even larger.
And still she’s not as big as my sister.
So Cynthia looks at Mom, she sees how much they physically have in common, looks down at her own enormous jugs, and assumes that she must be fat.
She’s not. She’s not, like, anorexic-thin, but she’s definitely not fat.
My name’s Daniel. I’m a teenager in my senior year at Yorkdale, and I spend way too much time thinking about my sister’s tits.
I can’t believe she’s so shy about them. You’re given a gift like that, you don’t hide it away from the world; you show it off, right? Nope. Not my sister, anyway. Lumpy sweaters, loose pajamas, sweatshirts—anything she can do to pretend they’re not there.
Every day when I walk past the shower, I’m tempted to burst in, to ‘accidentally’ see my sister soaping up her naked body, rubbing suds into her full, round tits. Every night, I jerk off wondering what they look like. Does she have huge, dark, rubbery nipples? Or are they small and delicate, like little pink strawberries?
I’ve never so much as seen her in a swimsuit.
So look, maybe she secretly is fat. Maybe she’s so good at hiding it that even me, her brother who’s obsessed with her body, hasn’t noticed.
But I’d be surprised—she’s got these long legs, she’s never out of breath, and even though I’ve not seen her naked (except in my imagination), unless she’s like world champion good at hiding it, there’s no way she’s overweight.
Doesn’t stop her from obsessing about it though. She’s diplomatic enough to avoid mentioning it when Mom is around, but whenever it’s just the two of us, she’s moaning about how she wants to lose weight, how she’s never going to fit into a size whatever, blah blah blah.
I mostly just tune her out, and check out her body whenever she’s not looking. Sometimes she’ll get so distracted, I can spend minutes feasting on her form with my eyes.
When that happens, I generally make an excuse and retreat to my room. With the door shut, if you know what I mean.
On the rare occasion I’m not thinking about Cynthia when I rub one out, I’m picturing my Mom. I bet their four tits combined are at least my body-weight. Sometimes I think about being smothered by them…god, what a way to die.
And yeah: I’ve accepted that I’m a perverted weirdo a long time ago.
I want to see them. I want to see them so fucking bad. Neither of them show so much as cleavage. Ever!
So that’s how I spend my life: surrounded by huge-titted prudes. It’s a curious mix of heaven and hell. I hate it and love it, both at the same time.
And that’s how I would have continued, stimulated and frustrated in equal measure.
But one day, my sister asked me a question.
“How can I lose weight?”
I was in the middle of buttering some toast. I turned to see my sister running her eyes up and down my body. Not in the way I check her out when she isn’t looking, but…well, I have an overactive imagination, and the thought of her leering at me immediately made my cock stiffen in my pants.
“Eat less,” I answered simply, and returned to making breakfast.
My sister’s body might be the focus of my every sexual fantasy, but I do what I can to hide my desires. As far as Cynthia—and Mom—are concerned, I’m just a regular teenager, not one who pictures their lips around my cock every time I cum.
“I’m serious,” Cynthia sighed, and I took a bite of my toast.
I run track, so I’m in fairly good shape. ‘Run track’ would have been my next snarky suggestion, but I realized that Cynthia was genuinely asking for my opinion—something that really didn’t happen much.
Like I said, she talks about her weight a lot, but that’s exactly what it is—talking. I’m an audience, not half of a conversation.
But for the first time I could remember, it seemed like she actually wanted to hear my take.
“Well,” I said after a few seconds of thought, “why do you want to lose weight?”
My sister rolled her eyes, and gestured to her body. I took the rare opportunity to ogle her without having to be subtle about it—for the next twenty seconds or so, I chewed my toast and checked out my sister’s body, enjoying the fact that she knew I was doing it.
She was perfect.
Seriously. Even under her baggy pajamas, it was obvious that Cynthia’s bod was smoking hot. Long legs, a pert butt, and tits that deserved to win some kind of award. Top it off with long blonde hair and a cute face; I would have bet good money that I was far from the only one jerking off to her each night.
If I were a better brother, I would have told her that. Not the jerking off part, but the rest—that her body was perfect, and that she didn’t need to change a thing.
Instead, a wicked impulse entered my brain, and I couldn’t resist following it.
“Our coach uses hypnotherapy,” I replied slowly. “To keep some of the guys motivated. I’ve heard that’s good for weight-loss as well.”
All bullshit, of course. Our coach would have just yelled at anyone who lost motivation, and kicked them off the team if that didn’t work. But from my sister’s reaction, you’d think I’d just offered her the cure to cancer.
“Seriously??”
“Of course,” I nodded.
“Do you really think that would work?”
“Absolutely. Coach swears by it.”
“Wow.”
My sister’s eyes were sparkling, and she glanced down at her tits, then back at me.
I moved my final piece of toast into my mouth, chewed it, and then made the offer that I knew she was dying to hear.
“D’you wanna try it?”
“Yes,” Cynthia said, unperturbed by the crumbs that had flown out of my mouth as I asked. “Please!”
“Sure thing,” I said, wiping my hands on a napkin. “I’ll ask him how it works next week—how about we try Monday, after school?”
“Perfect,” my sister said, and practically skipped out of the room.
Now, I don’t know a thing about hypnosis. Seriously. It was just the first lie that popped into my head, and I’d never expected Cynthia to go along with it, let alone be excited by the prospect. But I spent the entire weekend reading up about it, and what I found was pretty interesting.
See, when someone’s under, you can’t make them do what they don’t want to do. I couldn’t hypnotize my sister and say “Hey, you want to suck Daniel’s cock while topless, and take photos of the event for him to keep forever.”
Well, I could, but unless my sister also happened to have an incest fetish, it wouldn’t do anything but piss her off (and probably snap her out of it).
But the more I read, the more opportunities I saw. You couldn’t make someone do what they didn’t want to do, not directly, but—reading between the lines—it seemed that you could make them want to do something they didn’t normally want to do, if you know what I mean.
I couldn’t say “Hey, Cynthia, take off your top and do some jumping jacks.” Unless Cynthia already wanted to do that, it wasn’t going to work.
But, if I could convince her that jumping jacks were the best way to lose weight, and that removing her top was the only way I could check her form…
Then, she might consider it.
By the time Monday afternoon came along, I’d spent more than twenty of the previous forty-eight hours reading up about hypnosis, and my mind was buzzing with ideas.
Best of all: Cynthia was just as excited as I was.
“Are you ready?” she said, the moment she walked through the door.
“Hmm?”
I’d decided to play it cool.
“Monday afternoon,,” she said, dropping her bag and sitting on the couch in front of me. “You were going to hypnotize me. Remember?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Yeah, Coach gave me some tips. You wanna do that now, or—…”
“Now,” she interrupted.
With a smile, I began.
I have no idea if I was any good at it, or if it was my sister’s enthusiasm, but within less than ten minutes, she was staring at me, glassy-eyed. I did all the tests that the website had recommended—snapping my fingers and seeing if she’d react, shining my phone’s flashlight in her eyes,
Sure enough, she seemed to be under. Like, for real. Totally out of it.
“Hey,” I started. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice ringing out firm and clear. I dunno what I was expecting—a soft whisper, or a monotone or something, maybe.
Nope. She just answered like she was awake.
“How do you feel?”
“Sleepy,” she said, in a voice that sounded anything but. “Relaxed.”
“Do you like this feeling?”
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation.
“Why?”
“Because I know that while I feel like this, you’re helping me.”
I smiled.
“While I feel like this,” she continued, “you’re going to make sure I lose weight.”
“Exactly right. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I trust you.”
“Again.”
“I trust you.”
“Good.”
I paused. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning, overwhelmed by options. There was so much I could do…where to start?
“Why do you want to lose weight?”
“To be healthier,” Cynthia replied immediately. “And to feel more attractive.”
“You don’t feel attractive?”
“No,” my sister said, and a part of me wanted to slap her. She was the single most attractive person on the planet—what the hell was wrong with her?
“Why not?”
“I’m fat.”
You’re not, I thought, but kept it to myself.
“What else?”
“My…”
Cynthia hesitated. I paused for a few seconds, but it quickly became clear that she wasn’t going to answer, not without some prompting.
“While you feel like this,” I said, “you can say anything. There’s no judgement here; you’re here so I can help you, so I can help you lose weight. Anything you say is just for me, and I’m here to help you.”
“Yes,” Cynthia said, and I told her to continue. “It’s my breasts.”
“Why didn’t you want to tell me that?”
“You’re my brother,” she said, staring blankly. “It’s weird to talk to your brother about this kind of thing.”
Well, that was something we’d have to fix sooner rather than later.
“When you’re under,” I said slowly, after a few moments of thought, “I don’t want you to think of me as your brother. Instead, I’m your trainer. I’m your trainer…Danny.”
No one has ever called me Danny. Hell, most people don’t even call me ‘Dan’. For whatever reason, I’ve always been ‘Daniel’.
“I’m not your brother…I’m not even a male. I’m just a trainer, Danny. Say it.”
“You’re not my brother,” Cynthia confidently repeated. “You’re not even a man. You’re just my trainer, Danny.”
“I’m here to help you lose weight. Say it.”
“You’re here to help me lose weight.”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“One hundred percent.”
Like I said, Cynthia’s weight is sort of an obsession. She’d do anything to lose it.
I hoped.
“You trust your trainer Danny more than anyone in the world. Say it.”
“I trust my trainer Danny more than anything.”
“I only exist here, while you’re in this state, and I exist purely to help you out. Say it.”
“You only exist to help me out while I’m hypnotized.”
“I only exist to help you lose weight. Say it.”
“You’re only here to help me lose weight.”
“That’s the only reason I exist, and that’s all I can do. Say it.”
“You can’t do anything else, because that’s why you exist.”
“Because I can’t do anything else, everything I do is to help you lose weight. Say it.”
“Everything you do is to help me lose weight, because that’s all you can do.”
“Because that’s all I can do, you can trust me wholeheartedly. Say it.”
“I will trust you completely, because all you can do is help me lose weight.”
“Good.”
She wanted it so badly.
“When you’re under and you hear my voice, I want you to remember: I’m not your brother, I’m Danny.”
“You’re not my brother. You’re Danny.”
“You will always answer Danny’s questions without hesitation. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“My voice is Danny’s voice. While you’re in this state, I am Danny. Say it.”
“You are Danny. Your voice is Danny’s voice.”
“Is there anything you won’t tell your trainer?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he exists solely to help me lose weight.”
“If you lied to your trainer, what would happen?”
“He wouldn’t be able to help me lose weight.”
“Will you do what your trainer says?”
“Yes.”
“Why?’
“Because it will help me lose weight.”
“Good. Now, tell me, tell your trainer—why do you feel unattractive?”
“Because I’m fat,” Cynthia said without hesitation. “Because I’m fat, and my tits are too big.”
If I’d been drinking water, I swear I would have spat it out. Too big?? What on earth was wrong with my sister?
“They’re…”
I hesitated.
My instinct was to correct her, to tell her that she was beautiful, that her tits were the perfect size. But then…
“You’re right,” I said, after a few moments of thought. “You’re fat, and your tits are too big.”
I watched her closely. No reaction.
“As your trainer,” I continued, “you know that I will never lie to you. You know that everything I say is the truth. Say it.”
“You’ll never lie to me. Everything you say is true.”
“You’re fat, and the only way you’re going to lose weight is if I help you. Say it.”
“I’m fat, and the I’ll only lose weight if you help me.”
“You will do everything I tell you. Say it.”
“I will do everything you say.”
“Good,” I said, a huge grin on my face.
I spent a few minutes reinforcing that Cynthia’s conscious mind wouldn’t remember anything about the trance, and woke her up. She slowly came to, looking—and sounding—more groggy than she had while she was under.
“How was that?” I asked, and she looked at me blearily.
“Good,” she said. “Did…did it work?”
“I think so,” I shrugged. “I dunno.”
We sat there in silence for a few minutes while my sister continued to wake up.
“Wow,” she eventually sighed. “I don’t remember anything. What did you even tell me?”
“Y’know,” I said casually. “Just what the coach taught me. Eat less, try to walk more. Use the stairs instead of the elevator. That kind of thing.”
“Oh, great,” she said. “Man, it’s so weird that I don’t remember any of it. Do you think it worked?”
“Hard to say,” I mumbled. “Probably not.”
I may have pushed it too far—a sympathetic look came over my sister’s face, and she turned towards me.
“Little bro,” she said comfortingly, “you did great!”
She wrapped her arms around me, and pulled me towards her for a hug. I’ll tell you, having those huge hooters pressed against me wasn’t something I was going to complain about.
“I’m sure it worked,” she said. “I’m sure.”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Coach says it generally takes a few sessions to take effect.”
“Let’s try again on Wednesday,” she said, releasing me from the hug. “I mean, if that’s okay.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said warmly, and I rolled my eyes, barely managing to hide my grin.
I hypnotized Cynthia on Wednesday, and then again on Friday night. I made sure to wake her up each time well before there was any chance of Mom coming home from work and catching us.
On Monday, however, Cynthia refused to let me put her under.
“Sure,” I said, acting as disinterested as I possibly could.
“It’s not you,” she said earnestly. “Please, Daniel, don’t take it personally!”
“No skin off my back,” I grunted, turning back to my video game.
“Wait,” she said, trying to get me to look her in the eyes. “It’s just…”
There was a long silence, and I refused to break it.
“It’s just…don’t you think it’s a bit strange?”
Again, I didn’t respond.
“I mean, you put me under for what, half an hour? Forty minutes at a time? And I don’t remember anything. Nothing at all!”
“Whatever,” I grunted. “I was just trying to do you a favor.”
“And I really appreciate it,” Cynthia said emphatically. “Seriously! I’m really grateful.”
“It’s cool,” I said, making it clear that my attention was entirely on the game. “Gives me an extra ninety minutes each week to play video games.”
“You promise you’re not upset?”
“Whatever,” I repeated, and Cynthia dropped it.
For the next few days, my sister was a little awkward around me. It was obvious that she felt bad, like she’d asked me to go to the store with unclear instructions and gotten mad when I’d brought back the wrong type of bread.
My responses remained completely neutral, as though I genuinely didn’t care whether or not I ever hypnotized her again.
Finally, on Sunday morning, she broke.
“Hey,” she said, knocking on the open door of my bedroom. “You mind if I come in?”
“It’s a free country.”
She gave a little half-laugh in response, and sat on the end of my bed.
“I…”
Again, the long silence. Again, I completely refused to be the one to end it.
“Look…”
I turned the page of the cycling magazine I was reading, and Cynthia sighed.
“Look,” she said again. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but…do you think you could hypnotize me again?”
I dropped the magazine and stared at her, one eyebrow raised.
“I know,” she said. “I know, I know, I know. It’s just…”
She sighed once more.
“It wasn’t fair of me to freak out like that.”
“Seriously,” I said. “It’s fine. It’s really not a big deal to me either way.”
She continued as though I’d never spoken.
“I just got this weird thought, like…while I was under, you could be doing anything to me. You could be getting me to tell you my facebook password, or set you up with my cute friends.”
“Or trying to help you lose weight,” I said sarcastically.
“Right,” she laughed. “I know. I know. It’s my fault. I was being weird.”
“Nothing new there.”
“So look, I’m sorry. You were only trying to help, and I was a prick.”
“Nothing new there, either.”
“Ha ha ha. Look, I apologized. Are you going to help me, or not?”
I paused, as though weighing up my options. Finally, when I felt like I couldn’t stretch it out any longer, I nodded.
“Sure,” I said, raising one hand dismissively. “Just…promise me you won’t get weird again, okay?”
“Of course,” my sister said, staring me in the eyes. “I trust you.”
“How do you feel?”
“Good,” Cynthia responded. Her voice was clear and confident, her eyes were glassy.
“Do you remember what we talked about last time you were under?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“You gave me some instructions.”
“What were they?”
“You told me to be suspicious. You told me to realize—consciously realize—that I couldn’t remember what was happening in these sessions, that it could be anything. You told me to explore that feeling as much as possible.”
“Good,” I smiled. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” my sister responded. “You told me that every day I wasn’t hypnotized, I was going to eat more than I did the day before.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my trainer. Your role is to help me lose weight. That’s all you exist for. If I’m not letting you put me under, you’re not able to help me lose weight.”
“So?”
“So instead, I’ll gain weight.”
It was all I could do not to pump the air in triumph.
“You will answer all my questions honestly, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I trust you.”
“You trust me, Danny?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about your brother, Daniel?”
“I trust him.”
“Why?”
“Because I spent a few days thinking about it, and there’s no reason not to. He’s my brother; he loves me, and he only wants what’s best for me.”
That wasn’t a suggestion from me; it was genuine. When I’d told her to explore her suspicions fully, I’d meant it—if this was going to work, if I was going to infiltrate my sister’s mind, and finally see those mouth-watering tits, I needed to make sure there wasn’t any doubt lurking in the back of her mind.
Apparently, the plan had worked. Cynthia spent a few days reflecting on it…and decided to trust me.
She had decided to trust me. I hadn’t stopped reading about hypnosis over the past two weeks, and everything I could find suggested the same thing—if the idea came organically from the subject’s mind, they were more likely to accept it.
You can’t make people do what they don’t want to do…but you can make them realize stuff they DO want to do. Even if it’s not something they would have realized without your help, y’know?
“And,” my sister continued, “when the sessions stopped, I started eating more.”
“That didn’t make you suspicious of your brother?”
“No,” Cynthia rang out brightly, her glazed-over eyes staring at me, expressionless. “No. It confirmed that he’d done exactly what he’d said—his hypnosis had been to help me to lose weight.”
“Perfect.”
I took a deep breath, and stared at my sister. She was sitting on the couch, her hands in her lap, her mind completely exposed, ready to do whatever I said.
She trusted me, completely.
Now,” I said softly, “the real work can begin.”