Diet
by Pan
Chapter 34
“You came again,” I accused Cynthia.
It was the day after my mother had once more gotten my sister off, almost a week since I’d almost woken her. I’d spent the rest of that session fucking her, while getting her to tell me exactly why she hated her breasts so much.
The answer was a whole soup of trauma—childhood bullying, being the first kid to get tits, seeing Mom’s large tits and out-of-shape body, and particularly harsh comments from a few people she respected...including, I was surprised to discover: me. Apparently I’d teased her for having huge ‘bobs’ (as I’d called them) when she was younger, and told her that they meant no one would ever love her. Kids can be so cruel...probably budding sadists more than most.
Hearing my sister unpack her breast-related trauma while I fucked her was an experience like no other. I came hard and fast, unloading onto her stomach with a moan.
I knew we’d be doing that more than once.
“You came again,” I repeated.
If Cynthia could have moved, I know she would have nodded. But without that as an option, she had to answer verbally—though she did so as quietly as possible.
“Yes,” she replied, so softly I could barely hear her.
“You were given a direct order not to cum, but when Mom touched you, you came again.”
This time, she didn’t say anything at all.
“You failed,” I said, my voice trhumming with disappointment. “You were given a very simple command, and you couldn’t even obey that.”
No response. You could practically taste the tension in the air.
Despite having just cum, I was once more hard as a rock.
“You’re worthless,” I spat.
“Yes, sir.”
“Say it.”
“I’m worthless.”
“You need to be punished.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Say it.”
“I need to be punished.”
“You don’t deserve my attention. You don’t deserve my punishment.”
“No, sir. I don’t.”
“But I’m going to give it to you anyway.”
My sister’s stationary body crumpled with relief.
“Yes, sir.”
“What will your punishment be?”
“You’re…you’re going to look at my boobs, sir.”
All the while I’d been persuading my mother to let me watch her touch Cynthia, I’d been working on getting my sister to agree to this punishment.
Remember, I’d genuinely wanted my sister to resist Mom’s fingers. When she’d cum again, it had honestly shocked me. The next part of my plan had relied on my mother failing to make Cynthia cum.
But so far she was two for two, and there was no reason to think she wouldn’t succeed again the next time they tried.
I needed to fix that. I had every intent of finishing that. But I’d figured that as I worked on that, getting to see my sister’s breasts was a pretty sweet consolation prize.
“I’m going to take your bra off now.”.
“Yes, sir,” Cynthia replied. I’d been listening for hesitation, fear—anything that told me that I should hold back, that I had more work to do. Any indication that moving forward would make her freak out and wake up.
I didn’t know exactly what would happen if someone involuntarily came out of hypnosis, but all the forums had agreed on one point: it would be bad. And something told me that coming to and seeing your younger brother holding your bra wouldn’t make things better.
But my sister’s response had been strong and sure.
“I’m doing it,” I said, giving her one last chance to voice her disapproval.
Nothing. It was the sexiest silence of my life.
I moved my hand beneath my sister’s back. After watching her orgasm the previous night, I’d known this was coming, and had spent the morning training on a bra I’d stolen from Mom’s closet.
It seemed pretty easy—you squeeze in the right way and it comes undone. Putting it back on was a bit more challenging, and that’s where most of my practice had gone; once Cynthia’s bra was off, it had to be fastened again before she awoke, or else…
Yeah. It would be bad.
So I’d spent like four hours taking the bra off and putting it back on, again and again and again. I don’t know how competitive the field is, but if America decided to field an Olympic bra removal team, I’m pretty sure I would at least have made the finals.
The only thing I hadn’t factored in was that—unlike the chair I’d put Mom’s bra on—Cynthia was lying on her clasp bra. It definitely made it a little more difficult, but after a few awkward minutes, I breathed a sigh of relief.
My sister’s bra was undone. I pulled it off, and gawked at what I saw.
I’ve seen my fair share of porn, and one thing I’ve noticed is that when a woman is laying on her back, it’s like her tits lose half their size. They’ll go from ‘busty’ to ‘oh yeah those are breasts’.
By this point, I’d seen my mother’s breasts…god, a few hundred times? And I knew from going through their underwear drawers that my sister, despite her best efforts to hide them, has larger tits than Mom.
But I hadn’t expected my sisters tits to be so huge that even when she was on her back, they were still massive.
As I removed her underwear, I gasped at the sight of my sister’s breasts falling to the side, hypnoticlaly jiggling as they settled. They were just as creamy-white as the rest of her skin, with two small, delicate, strawberry-pink nipples.
Mom’s nipples were exquisite: thick, dark, and ruby-red. They looked like they were made to be sucked on. (Which, I guess, they were. Specifically by me, at that.)
By contrast, Cynthia’s nipples looked like they’d rub off if you stroked them too hard. Part of me wondered how they’d survived the bulldog clip punishment. My sister’s nipples called out to my mouth, just as my mother’s had, but they somehow seemed like more of a forbidden treat, like sucking on them would probably remove them.
No, Cynthia’s tits were made for biting. Small, gentle bites, followed by plenty of tongue…and then when they were engorged with blood and excitement, they’d be ready to suck. I could already imagine the sounds my sister would make as I sucked her nipples, the gasps, the soft moans.
Cynthia’s breasts were so big, so fucking juicy. I wanted to run my hands all over them. I wanted to touch them and taste them and stick my dick between them, cover it in lube, and fuck my sister’s tits until I came all over her face.
I’d wanted so desperately to see them...but now that I had, I realized that was a mistake.
Now that I’d seen them, I had to touch them. And not like I had my mother’s, adjusting them to get a rope in place. Cynthia’s jugs were made to be abused, played with, manhandled—and I was the man who wanted to handle them.
Why had I opened myself up to such frustration?
I let out a long sigh, and in response, my sister…she didn’t wince, not exactly, but her eyes definitely took on a despondent expression.
“They’re everything I expected them to be,” I said honestly, and Cynthia—as I knew she would—took that in the worst possible way.
“I wish I’d never seen them,” I said, continuing to be candid. “They’re not like any other boobs I’ve ever seen.”
“W-what’s my score, sir?” my sister asked, sounding like a broken woman.
The last time I’d assessed my sister, I’d given her a six. It had been a new high, and had excited her so much that she’d cum just from hearing it.
“Three point five,” I told her immediately, having anticipated the question. That wasn’t the lowest score she’d ever gotten—that had been a two point five, according to my notes (although I couldn’t remember what had inspired it)—but it was a distinct drop from the last time she’d asked. “But just because of your tits.”
In physics class, we’d been shown a video of an empty can in a vacuum tube. Over the course of a minute or two, they’d just kept on pumping more and more air into the tube, increasing the pressure, until the whole thing just suddenly…crumpled in on itself.
That was what it was like, watching my sister learn her new rating. It was like she silently imploded, but without moving a muscle.
“W-why?” she croaked, and I sat back.
“Because you disobeyed an instruction,” I said, my voice calm. “You were given a direct order, and you didn’t obey. Women are meant to be submissive—it’s a complete turn-off to be defied. Say it.”
“Women should obey,” my sister intoned. “I should be submissive. I need to do as you say. I need to follow your orders.”
As she spoke, Cynthia continued staring blankly up at the ceiling. I, meanwhile, was happily staring at her tits. I’d been wanting to see them for so long, and now here they were, mine for the taking.
Speaking of which…
“I need to take a photo,” I said softly. Perhaps because of what the conversation we’d just had about defiance, my sister didn’t react. She didn’t start shaking or freaking out; just kept staring silently at the ceiling.
A few minutes later, I’d taken so many photos of Cynthia’s bare tits that I was at risk of hitting my phone’s storage cap. Even if I somehow lost control of my sister and mother, I knew that I’d have these photos for the rest of my life, each of them a small masterpiece.
Her breasts were so big and soft and round and perfect—I wanted to bury my face in her cleavage and lick them all over, suck on them until Cynthia begged me for mercy.
When I finally decided that I’d taken enough pictures (as though I could ever take enough) I put my phone away and turned to face my sister. She was still lying there, looking up, her tits jiggling hypnotically as she breathed.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, rock hard once more.
“That you’re right,” she said, her voice flat. “I was disobedient. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have cum. I should have obeyed you.”
“You’re right,” I nodded. “You’re a worthless failure. You should have obeyed me. Say it.”
“I’m worthless,’ Cynthia agreed. “A failure. And I should have obeyed you. I should always obey you.”
“So,” I said softly, lowering my pants and positioning myself above my sister. “What are you going to do about it?”
Cynthia’s response was a little distracted when it came. “Um, I…I don’t know.”
We both groaned as I moved her gusset to the side, and slowly penetrated her. It wasn’t until I was halfway in that I realized—I hadn’t asked, checked if it was okay, or even let my sister know I was doing it.
I’d just taken her. And she’d done nothing to resist.
As my cock slid all the way inside my sister, I realized something else: she was soaked. I mean, my sister is always wet, but even for her this was striking.
“Are you turned on?” I asked. “I mean, more so than usual?”
“Yes, sir,” Cynthia responded.
“Why?”
“I’m…I’m so worthless,” she gasped, and I could feel her cunt clench at the words. “And my tits are...grotesque. I’m a failure. I’m—ohgod, don’t cum—a three…a three…point five!”
As my sister had been speaking, I’d been slowly pumping in and out of her, but at her last word (or number, I guess) I froze. I recognized the signs of my sister’s impending orgasm, and if I didn’t stop moving, I knew it was going to arrive..
When I’d told my sister she was at a six, it had been enough to make her cum without any physical stimulation. So I hadn’t expected having her rating dropped to a three point five to have almost the exact same effect.
“Don’t cum,” I growled.
“Yessir,” my sister frantically responded. “Yessir don’t cum yes don’t cum yes.”
We sat there for several minutes, my hard cock inside my sister’s twitching cunt. Mom was home, but ever since I’d started fucking Cynthia, I’d made it very clear to her subconscious mind that she wasn’t allowed to come anywhere near her daughter’s room, especially not while I was in there.
I’d checked, and even when we sometimes got a little loud, Mom had never heard any of it. As long as we didn’t do anything dumb, I figured I was safe to fuck my sister without risk of being interrupted.
Like, if Mom had walked in at that point, I don’t think there’s any amount of hypnosis that could have saved me. Having my dick deep in my sister’s almost-naked body would have been bad enough, but Cynthia’s blank stare and total immobility?
Yeah, there was no way I was getting out of that one.
Finally, I could feel the muscles of my sister’s vaginal walls stop twitching, and I started slowly pumping in and out of her once more. Even though I’d just cum, I was desperate for relief. All of it—my sister’s huge breasts bouncing against my chest, how wet she’d gotten at her new rating, the fact that I hadn’t even had to ask before starting to fuck her...it was driving me wild. Like my sister, I felt like I could have exploded with orgasm at any moment.
“Even after seeing Mom get you off, even after watching you cum, your disobedience dropped you all the way to a three point five,” I reminded my sister.
“Yesdon’tcum, sirdon’tcum,” she responded.
“And your breasts, of course,” I added. “Those lowered your rating as well.”
“Mmmm—don’tcum!—hmmmm…” Cynthia purred. Her arousal was contagious, and I knew I couldn’t hold back..
“I’m going to cum,” I groaned. “You’re going to make me cum.”
“Oh, god, don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum…” my sister breathily told herself. “Don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum…”
“You mustn’t cum,” I confirmed with a grunt. “If you disobey me again, it’ll lower my opinion of you even further.”
“Of course don’t cum sir,” Cynthia gasped. “I won’t cum don’t cum sir don’t cum.”
“You’d better not,” I said, increasing my pace. My sister’s eyes were staring blankly, but her forehead was knotted in concentration. As I felt my orgasm beginning to swell, I started gasping stacatto phrases, one after another.
“Failure,” I grunted. “Worthless! Grotesque. Disgusting. Useless. Nothing.”
In response, my sister just kept repeating the same two words again and again: “Don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum don’t cum don’t…—“
As my sister did all she could not to cum, I pulled out of her wetness and—for the first time—began spewing my seed all over her naked, far-from-grotesque tits. As soon as my spunk began coating her body, I delivered what I was certain would be the coup de grace: three simple words:
“Three…point…five…”
Sure enough, my sister tensed up. I watched as her already-hard nipples tightened, becoming two perfect crinkled points.
When we’d both calmed down, I smiled down at her.
“Did you cum?”
To my surprise, a smug tone left my sister’s mouth.
“No, sir. I edged.”
Raising one eyebrow, I reached for the box of tissues.
“Really?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Because, sir. You told me not to.”
I tilted my head to the side. What was I missing?
As I cleaned my sister up, my brain was going a million miles an hour. I’d assumed that being fucked by my cock, the thing Cynthia lusted after all day every day, was the greatest sexual stimulation my sister could feel, but…well, she’d just managed to avoid cumming, from sheer willpower.
She’d slipped in the past, but when she truly focused on it, she was able to stop herself from cumming.
But even with the threat of having her tits exposed, Cynthia had cum at our mother’s hands.
Twice.
Putting the tissues to the side, I realized I was already hard once more. Positioning myself at my sister’s glistening entrance, I again didn’t ask for permission, just pushed until I was inside her.
Perhaps I’d been a bit hasty to dismiss my mother’s skills with her hands.
“Okay, Cynthia,” I said thoughtfully, as I began to fuck her. “Tell me again what Mom did. And this time, be very specific.”
When I was a kid, Mom would sometimes accuse me of not listening. It always seemed deeply unfair to me at the time—of course I was listening! I got good at that trick where you repeat the words directly back to the other person; y’know, as proof that you’re listening.
But it wasn’t until I fucked my entranced sister as she described our mother’s touch that I finally understood what Mom had meant.
I hadn’t been listening before. Not really. I’d heard the words, but not the meaning.
When Cynthia had talked about Mom’s soft touch, how gentle she’d been, I’d…look, this is embarrassing.
I’d been judgmental about it.
Like “Oh Mom, she’s trying so hard, but she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
Nope. Mom, it turned out, had known exactly what she was doing. Far, far more than I.
Now, in my defense, my sexual experience up to that point had been pretty specific. I’d made Mom cum by spanking her, I’d made my sister cum using my words, and then by crudely rubbing her clit. And almost every time after that, Cynthia had cum while I was pounding into her as roughly as I could.
So yeah, I think it made sense that I’d concluded, women came the way I did. When I want to get off, I wrap my hand around my cock and roughly tug at it until I cum. (Well, unless my sister was available. But you know what I mean.)
Mom had cum by having my hand rain blows down upon her ass, and Cynthia…yeah at no point had ‘gentleness’ entered the equation.
But as I slowly fucked my sister and listened to her explain the softness of Mom’s fingers, the tender way she’d touched her side, her labia, before gently dipping two fingers inside her…
Yeah. I got it.
Mom hadn’t gotten lucky, touching her softly and only managing to get her off because Cynthia was so horny. She’d touched her daughter the way only another woman knew how. She’d stimulated her in ways…ugh, it really sucks to admit this: she’d stimulated my sister in ways that I’d never even considered as an option.
And so when Cynthia had cum, it hadn’t been because of the situation, or because of how she knew I’d react when I saw it (and in fact, had reacted when I’d seen it).
It had been because Mom was really damn good at what she did.
Before I came, I put Cynthia’s bra back on. I wasn’t sure how long it would take, and didn’t want to risk cumming on her tits and then not being able to clean her off and put it back on in time.
There’s a line from a Muppet song: Saying goodbye, why is it sad? Think you’d remember the good times we had.
As I reaffixed my sister’s bra, the words sprung into my head. I’d finally, finally gotten to see the pair of tits I’d been lusting after for as long as I’d known how wonderful tits were—you’d think I’d be happy for the experience, but all I could feel was sadness that they were going away.
At least I’d been able to cum on them. The Muppets never even got that.
After cleaning and waking my sister up, I went back to my room and started doing something that maybe I should’ve done earlier: googling how to please a woman.