The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hierarchy of Needs

by Pan

Chapter 5:

You’d think that once I found her username, I’d be happy.

And don’t get me wrong—it definitely put a smile on my dial. It cheered me up more than the one and only time I’d actually managed to beat one of my sister’s grades (if I didn’t know from personal experience how damned smart she was, I would have sworn she was sleeping with the teacher).

But happy isn’t the same as satisfied, and so while the site was great, it wasn’t getting me any closer to sleeping with my sister.

Though it sure was fun to look at.

* * *

Three days had passed, and nothing had happened. At least, nothing obvious.

That doesn’t sound long written like that, does it? “Three days had passed.” That’s only four words, it takes what…a second to read?

But when you have to live through them, trust me: three days is agony. It feels exactly like this:

Thhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeee ddaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyysssssss hhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddd paassssssssssseddddd.

Just as long, and just as annoying.

I thought I knew what would happen, when I moved the files around. I’d figured it would be simple—Ashley, now less concerned with her reputation and overly concerned with making some quick bucks, would start looking for a job. And with her newfound need to show off her body to strangers (and acquaintances, lovers and friends), it seemed obvious what kind of job she’d be looking for:

We don’t live in a huge town or anything like that, but we’re big enough to have strip clubs. I’ve never been before (why would I? Porn is just a few clicks away, and if I desperately want to see someone in the flesh, I just have to wait for my sister to bring out her orange bikini) but I knew they existed.

So did Ashley. I thought for sure that I’d put all the pieces in place to get my sister with a four-move checkmate, or however that works. But no matter how many times I left the paper out (my parents still read the paper. Different generation) with the “MAKE CASH NOW” ads for strippers prominently displayed, it didn’t work.

Worse, she wasn’t out there, looking for jobs. She was just spending most of her time in her room with the door locked, playing music.

Three days. It took me three days to work it out.

That’s at least partially because of my reduced curiosity, I guess, but still. Three days!

Thhhhreeee…—it’s okay, I won’t do that again.

On the evening of the third day, I went back into the room. I was trying not to go back in too often—I didn’t want Mom or Dad waking up and finding me in a strange, dusty room, reorganizing their priorities—but I needed to know what was going on.

Short-Term Wealth. It was exactly where I’d left it, right behind the ’Sexual Health’ folder (money’s nice, but herpes is for life). I pulled it out and opened it up to see what I’d missed. Maybe the folder used ’wealth’ to mean family, or friends, or sitting-in-a-room-by-yourself-listening-to-music. I had no idea why it would mean that, but clearly something was up.

Inside the folder there were no subfolders, just sheets of paper. The first one looked like a checklist, or a game plan: it had a bunch of different possible income streams, and they seemed to be ranked.

Win The Lottery was right down the bottom (like I said, my sister’s not dumb. The odds of winning the lottery are about the same as guessing exactly which second of the year I’m thinking of).

(Did you pick month three, day twenty-seven, hour nine, minute forty, thirty-fifth second? Nope? You just lost the lottery.)

Up the top, however, was something that made me want to facepalm harder than I’d ever facepalmed before:




I quickly found the US Camgirls sheet and had a read. I didn’t really know much about camgirl sites—like I said, porn is free—but it seemed that my sister had found a few different ways to make money from the site. It was genius, really; Ashley could make money showing her body off to strangers without any of the risks.

Putting the folder back in the drawer, I went straight back to my computer and started reading. Camgirl sites are pretty simple: Pretty women use their webcams to stream themselves live to the internet. There’s a little chat so you can send messages and requests, and—here’s the clever part—publicly “tip” you.

What a lot of camgirls will do is set up different types of show; strip show, shower show, “Hitachi” show (a popular kind of vibrator, I worked out), cum show (masturbating on-camera with their fingers) and then not start each show until they reach the requisite number of tips.

For extra money, they’ll also sell their panties and short videos of themselves; solo videos, girl-on-girl, sometimes even girl-guy vids.

Again, not something I’d ever been into, because—and I cannot stress this enough—porn is free. The main reason people use these sites is because of the connection, apparently. The girl is laughing and chatting to you (like a girlfriend experience kind of thing) and that’s worth serious cash to some people.

They can make a lot of money. The top camgirls, my research told me, make something like a million dollars a year.

That’s not an exaggeration. A million dollars a year.

Obviously my sister was just starting out, so she was nowhere near that, but yeah—I could see why she’d started down that path. There are a bunch of different cam sites; it seemed that she’d gone with USCamgirls because of how quickly they paid out. Short Term Wealth.

Within a few months, I knew my sister would be making the big bucks. Probably not a million a year, but with her body? I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve mentioned that my sister is gorgeous, but I’m not sure if I really made it clear. Like, I’m not an incest guy; I exclusively search out that kind of (free) porn or have any interest in my Mom or anything like that. My obsession came from one thing and one thing only: the fact that my sister is gorgeous.

She’s is blonde and blue-eyed, with thick lips (not in a slutty way, just in a…well, it’s hard to spend too much time watching my sister’s mouth without imagining it wrapped around certain things) and I don’t know if Ashley sold her soul to the devil for it but she has literally never had a pimple in her life. I know: before puberty hit, I was desperately waiting for something to tease her about, and nothing ever came.

And her body…wow. Expeditions into her underwear drawer have told me that she’s a D-cup, but everything she wears just seems to emphasize her perfect tits. Our pizza guy was a lucky man, I’ll tell you that. She’s got a thin waist, wide hips, and an ass that you could bounce a quarter off. She’s an incredible mover; as well as being amazing at basically every sport she’s ever tried, she did a bunch of jazz hip-hop when she was in high school.

One time when she didn’t know I was home, I caught her dancing in her underwear. It was one of the greatest moments of my life.

She genuinely doesn’t sound real. Hell, I live with her and I struggle to believe that she’s real.

Now you know why I had to have her.

* * *

The next day, I loitered in the hallway until I heard the music come on. Then I ran straight to my computer, loaded up and hit the “new” section. There were about a dozen girls, but it was pretty easy to narrow it down. My sister isn’t Asian, for starters.

When I was researching these sites, I’d learned a handful of things about how to put a profile together. Like, they recommend using a picture of your face for your profile pic, to further emphasize the ’real girl!’ thing, but my sister had gone with just a picture of her tits.

Now, before you start thinking of me as ungrateful, believe me—looking at my sister’s tits was one of the greatest experiences of my life. Even if there hadn’t been anything else to the site, just her tits, that would have been a day for the history books.

Her nipples were long and pink and her areolae were surprisingly large. It made me think of a cow’s teats—I have no idea why I found that hot, but I did. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on them.

And then I clicked through to her page, and smiled.

But not for the reason you might expect.

There were a whole heap of people in her chat-room. She hadn’t turned anonymous off, and so she was getting some weird requests (and this is coming from a guy who wants to fuck his sister). A lot of people requesting she show off her feet, for some reason.

But Ashley wasn’t really paying much attention to them. My sister was dancing in the middle of the room, slowly stripping (well, it couldn’t have been that slowly; she’d only been online for a few minutes, and she was already down to panties and the safety pinned button-up shirt she’d been wearing the other night) and just looked like she was having the time of her life.

Her panties were wet, and every now and again she’d stop, glance at the computer and shiver with pleasure.

Ashley was exploring her exhibitionist streak…and loving every minute of it.

But—and here’s what made me smile—my sister was hardly getting any tips at all. Why buy the milk when you can get the cow for free, hey? (It was hard to look at my sister’s tits without cow metaphors springing to mind.) Like don’t get me wrong; she was making money. But it was no more than she’d make if she was…I dunno, stacking shelves or flipping burgers.

My sister needed someone to help her with her newfound career. Someone that she trusted…

I spent the next six hours watching my sister, as she came over and over again. I saw now why she’d left anonymous comments on; it seemed the nastier the suggestions, the more she got off on it. On one hand, it was a pretty incredible experience for me. Not only did I see my sister naked for the first time, I also got to see her:

It was a hell of a day.

And the whole time, I was taking notes. Jerking off to my sister was less of a priority than fucking her, and my sister had inadvertently given me a clear path to the latter. When she was done, I had five pages of notes and a pair of balls full to the point of bursting.

But even when she stopped, I didn’t.

As soon as my sister turned the camera off, I moved straight into the room of one of the most popular girls on the site (they sort them by how much they earn, not just how many people are watching) and spent a few hours watching her channel and taking still more notes.

I had ideas.

After she finished her show, I finally gave my throbbing testes a break, and brought myself some release.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

I thought I’d jerked off before, but on that day, I think I might have broken some kind of record. So much that I’d been fantasizing about seeing (and so much that I’d never even thought of)…my sister’s body had gone from an object of fantasy to something I saw quivering in pleasure, shown off for a room full of people.

Shown off for me.

Like I said, it was an amazing day.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, a thought struck me; my plan relied on Ashley showing herself off to so many people that her brother was just one more on a long list. My best bet for avoiding suspicion was to transform Ashley into a complete slut, make her morals slip so much that when her aversion to incest disappeared, she barely even noticed.

But camgirling was a mostly solo venture. It involved her sitting in her bedroom, alone. And don’t get me wrong; she was definitely acting more slutty than she would have a week ago, but it wasn’t enough. When it’s just you and a screen and a camera, it doesn’t feel real. It’s like a game.

I needed her to get out there and slut it up for real.

On the other hand, her new camming career opened up some pretty interesting doors, and a plan was starting to formulate at the back of my mind. If I went back to plan A and convinced her to get a job at the strip club, I’d be throwing my evening of research away, and my new plan would work—I knew it would.

What to do?

Over dinner, I tried not to act any differently. Fortunately, Ashley looked as exhausted as I felt, and so even if my face somehow conveyed how much I’d seen her do, I don’t think she would have noticed.

“What’d you get up to today, Ash?” Dad asked, chewing the steak that Mom had made for dinner.

“Hung out online,” she said with a smile. “Just chatting to friends, mostly.”

“How about you, Jakey?”

“Yeah, pretty much the same. Found a new site, it’s pretty fun.”

Normally this would be followed by a less-than-subtle reminder that we should be out there looking for jobs, but today it didn’t come. An unexpected perk from my rearrangements. Instead, Dad got up and opened the freezer door.

“What do you want for dessert tonight, guys? Ice-cream? Pie?”

My eyes widened as the solution to my conundrum became obvious, and it was with a huge grin that I replied.

“Why not both?”