Diet
by Pan
Chapter 8
Generally, I tried not to keep my family members under for too long. My biggest fear was that they’d get suspicious, stop trusting me to hypnotize them so often…or stop trusting me at all.
But in this case, I couldn’t resist. For the next twenty minutes, I asked Mom every sex-related question I could think of.
I was a little disappointed to discover that her and my father had never gone past spanking. Even that, I learned, had been a rare treat—once every month or two at most. Not the twenty-four hour spank-fest I’d envisioned when my mother had first mentioned it.
And I was more than a little excited to discover why they’d never gone any further.
It seemed my father was the stumbling block on that front. Not that Mom had ever properly asked though—I think she was a little intimidated by her own urges, and when she’d been met by Dad’s resistance, had done absolutely nothing to push past it.
My dear, sweet, insanely-hot mother…liked being spanked.
No wonder she’d find it a little weird if I asked her to bend over my knee and be punished by my hand.
A grin spread over my face as I realized something.
If I played my cards right…I wouldn’t need to be the one who asked.
“Do you have any ideas for how you can better please your brother?” I asked my sister, moments after her stare went blank.
Cynthia never moved while she was under, but—just like Mom—she was a blusher.
“No,” she mumbled.
“Really?” I asked. “Nothing?”
“No,” she repeated.
“How often have you been thinking about it?”
“Once a day.”
“What do you do while you’re thinking about it?”
“I play with myself,” she muttered.
“You play with yourself while you’re thinking about what you can do to please your brother?”
“Yes,” Cynthia responded.
“How long do you think about it?”
“Until I achieve orgasm.”
“How long does it take, from thinking about how you can please me to cumming?”
“A few minutes.”
The plan, it seemed, was working.
“Why do you think you haven’t come up with any ideas yet?”
There was a brief pause as Cynthia pondered. When she responded, her voice rang out confidently.
“For two reasons,” she said. “Because I only think about it for a few minutes a day, and because…I’m distracted when I am thinking about it.”
“Why are you distracted?”
“Because I’m so turned on. It’s hard to think about what would please Daniel.”
“You don’t have any ideas?”
To my delight, my sister again hesitated. I jumped in.
“Remember, this is a safe space. Anything you say here is just to help you lose weight. You’re not even talking to your brother—I’m Danny, your trainer. I exist to help you lose weight. Say it.”
“Anything we discuss here is just to help me become more attractive. It’s safe. You’re not Daniel, you’re my trainer, Danny. You’re here to help me with my diet.”
“Exactly.”
It was hard to tell for sure, but I got the feeling my sister was a little more relaxed, so I tried again.
“Have you had any ideas at all?”
“Yes,” my sister responded reluctantly. “But no good ones.”
“Sometimes, when you’re brainstorming, sharing bad ideas can lead to coming up with good ones. Tell me what your ideas were.”
“I…”
In all the time I’d been putting my sister under, I’d never met such resistance.
It felt like a good sign, somehow.
“I…I could set him up on a blind date with one of my friends.”
I desperately wanted to explore the other bad ideas, but maybe going through each one thoroughly would help lower her defenses.
“Why is that a bad idea?”
“I don’t want my friends dating my brother,” Cynthia responded without hesitation. Ouch. “Also, they’d be weirded out if I didn’t tell them ahead of time that it was you.”
“Why don’t you want your friends dating your brother?”
“It’s too messy. If they break up, I could lose a friend. Or make things super awkward.”
“Is it more important than losing weight?”
“No,” my sister replied immediately.
Now, truth be told, I didn’t really want to date any of Cynthia’s friends. Like, don’t get me wrong, she has some hot pals…but my eyes were focused on the prize. Prizes.
“So it might not be such a bad idea after all. I mean, you need your brother to be happy to keep losing weight, right?”
“Yes.”
“Would it be worth risking a friendship or two for that?”
“Yes.”
“So it’s not really a bad idea, is it?”
“…no.”
The power truly was intoxicating.
“What other ideas did you have?”
“I could, uh…uh…”
My sister’s stammer didn’t sound like she was trying to invent ideas on the spot; it sounded like she was trying to fight through her resistance to share them.
“…I could give him some tips.”
“What kind of tips?”
Last time, my sister had suggested fashion tips. She’d been embarrassed to share her negative opinion of my fashion sense.
I somehow got the impression that this time she was reluctant to share tips for a different reason.
“Tips on…girls.”
Oh yes?
“What kinds of tips on girls?”
“Dating tips. Pick-up tips. Tips about what girls like, and what they don’t.”
I tilted my head to the side.
“…why is this such a bad idea?”
“Because my brother doesn’t really need them,” my sister admitted.
“Why not?”
“He’s cute. He’s sort of charming, when he’s not being a dick. I’ve had a few friends ask me if he’s single.”
Well, that was a delightful surprise. My sister thought I was cute! As did her friends, apparently.
And charming. No one’s ever called me charming before.
For a moment I was tempted to reconsider my dating policy, but I shook my head at the thought. No—gotta stay on track. The idea of experimenting with some of Cynthia’s friends certainly held its appeal, but…I had a plan.
I had a target, and I wasn’t going to lose focus.
“Is that every idea you had?”
My sister stayed silent, and I grinned. There was something else in there, something she wasn’t telling me.
Something she didn’t want to tell me.
“As your coach, it’s important that you share your thoughts with me. We need to build a plan together, and to do that, I need to know everything that’s going on in your head. Even if you think it’s a terrible idea, even if you only considered it for a second, I need to know…
“…did you have any other ideas?”
“Yes,” my sister replied, quieter than even Mom had been during our last session. “One.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“It’s a bad idea,” she whispered gently enough. My ear was practically at her lips.
“We don’t know that,” I reminded her. “You thought your other idea was bad, but it was actually quite good, remember?”
“This one isn’t.”
“I should hear it anyway. It might inspire a good idea.”
There was a long silence, until I prompted Cynthia once more.
“What’s the idea, Cynthia? You have to tell me.”
“I thought…I thought…just for a second, I thought maybe I could…I could…”
The two final words were so soft, I wondered if I’d imagined them. Wishful thinking, y’know?
“Say that again.”
She repeated the idea, just as quietly.
“Louder, Cynthia. That’s an order.”
“…blow…him.”
I leaned back in the chair beside my sister’s bed, and pumped my fist in the air.
Just for a second, just for one single moment before she came…my sister had thought about giving me head.
This was going to work.
That Friday, in the kitchen, I was delighted to find my mother with her hand—literally—in the cookie jar.
I hid my glee, of course.
“Mom…” I said, as much disappointment in my voice as I could muster. “C’mon. Seriously?”
She looked at me with the expression of…well, of someone who’d been caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar.
“Daniel!” she squeaked. “I, uh…”
“C’mon, Mom. You know what you were doing.”
“I…I…”
My mother trailed off, and I waited.
“…I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” I said, with a roll of my eyes. “You’re the one gaining weight.”
“I know, but…you’ve been working so hard.”
Harder than you think.
“You know what we have to do,” I said with a sigh.
Again, I waited.
And waited.
My mother licked her lips. Not in a like, sexy way (although basically anything my mother did with her tongue was sexy)—out of nervousness.
She was building up the courage, I could tell.
And so I waited.
“I’m worried the punishments aren’t working,” she finally squeaked. My mother, used to getting her way with a glance, was so nervous that her voice sounded like it was a full octave higher than normal.
“What do you mean?”
“No matter what I do,” she said. “I just…I can’t help myself.”
“Well,” I said slowly, as if thinking seriously about what she was saying. “I don’t know what else we can do. I’ve tried punishing you, and it doesn’t seem to help.”
“It does,” Mom said, saddened by the idea that I was losing confidence in myself. “Really, Daniel, it does.”
“What else can we do?”
There was a long silence, as Mom’s mind ticked over. I couldn’t see her thoughts, but I knew exactly what they were. Beat by beat, almost to the word.
After all, I’d placed them there.
“Maybe,” she replied slowly, as if spontaneously coming up with the idea, “…we could try a different kind of punishment.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“Like what?”
“Well, when you and Cynthia were little, if you misbehaved…and nothing else worked…”
Mom trailed off. I stared at her blankly, feigning complete ignorance.
“What?” I eventually asked, and Mom jumped at the crack of my voice breaking the silence.
“Well, I’d….you know.”
“No. What?” My voice had gained a hint of boredom.
“I’d…spank you.”
I blanched. “What??”
“Not often,” she said, as though my horror came from the idea of her being an abusive parent. “Just when absolutely nothing else would get through!”
“You want me to…”
Now it was my turn to trail off. I counted under my breath as Mom blushed. I was at twenty-seven when she finally mustered up the courage to respond.
“…sorry. It’s a dumb idea.”
I crossed the kitchen and gave Mom a hug, carefully making sure that there was no chance she’d make contact with my erection.
“It’s not a dumb idea,” I said, following the script that we’d talked through in our last session. “It’s just…weird.”
“This whole situation is weird,” she replied. I tried not to mouth along. “I mean, think about it—I’m your mother, but I’m the one needing to be disciplined. But if you think it’s too weird…”
“No,” I replied thoughtfully. “No, it’s…I mean, if you’re sure you’re okay with it.”
“I’m sure,” she smiled. “As long as you are.”
“Sure,” I shrugged. “If you think it’ll help.”
“I know it will,” she answered, with a confidence that she rarely shows. A confidence that came from her subconscious diet coach telling her, in no uncertain terms, that it was okay…and then having her repeat it a hundred times before waking up. “Trust me.”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Let’s hope this works.”
“It will,” she beamed.
And she was right, in a sense. It would work.
Until, suddenly, it didn’t any more.
“That’s a terrible idea,” I nodded. “You’re right.”
Again, I felt like I could see my sister oh-so-slightly relax.
“I don’t think any of these are good ideas, and you’re coming up with them too slowly. Do you agree?”
“Yes.”
“As well as that, you haven’t been losing weight, have you?”
“No.”
“Fortunately, I have a plan. I know how you can come up with new ideas twice as quickly, and lose weight faster. Do you want to hear it?”
“Yes.”
My sister’s fervency made me smile. I had her wrapped around my little finger—masturbating each day while thinking of me, completely trusting her trainer’s advice.
I was extremely happy with my progress.
“First we should take some pictures. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Cynthia didn’t move as I pulled out my camera, and took a few snaps of her prone form. I’d cum almost a dozen times while looking at the last batch of pictures, and I was excited to add more to my collection. This time, I was slightly more daring—a few different angles, including one that nicely highlighted her cleavage.
“You need to come up with more ideas,” I said, after taking as many photos as I thought I could get away with. “And you need to double your exercise routine. The answer is obvious—instead of masturbating once a day, I want you to start doing it twice a day. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“Yes.”
“Each time, you should think about whatever turns you on the most, right until you’re ready to cum. Then, you’re going to start thinking about your brother, and how to please him. Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I’m going to masturbate twice a day, thinking about sucking cock and being attractive. Then, when I’m approaching my orgasm, I’ll start thinking about how to please Daniel.”
“Will you think there’s anything suspicious about this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s to help me lose weight. Everything I’m doing is to help me lose weight.”
“Will you question why you’re thinking about your brother when you’re about to cum?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m masturbating to lose weight, and thinking of how I can please my brother will help me lose weight.”
“You’re going to try really hard to think of ideas, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Remember—when you’re brainstorming, there’s no such thing as a bad idea. Allow your mind to go down any path. Say it.”
“I’m going to think of everything I can, because any idea is useful.”
With a grin, I put my phone away and woke my sister up.