The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Paddy made three purchases the next day.

The first was a tiny safe. He’d already been terrified about the idea of someone finding his notebook; each page filled with his sister’s every move, meticulously recorded in his small, neat handwriting.

If anyone stumbled across it, they’d assume he was pervert.

He was a pervert. He’d fully accepted that. He was an pervert, obsessively fixated on his sister. He knew it, and he didn’t care.

The safe would at least give him some small peace of mind. It would protect him from anyone finding out, and removing him from his sister.

That was all he cared about.

The second purchase was a new, larger notebook. In-between his record seven masturbation sessions the previous day, Paddy had started to devise a plan. Knowing his sister’s movements around the house wasn’t enough—he needed to know them around her room.

He couldn’t hide in the closet again, that was too risky. But if he watched her like a hawk, if he memorized her every movement, maybe he could…he could…

Paddy refused to specify exactly what he could do, even to himself. It felt like it was going too far, even for him.

And so he tried very hard not to think about his third purchase: a small spy camera.

It wasn’t more than a few days before the new notebook was filled. He bought another, then another.

After a week of filling notebooks, he bought a larger safe.

Leah and Paddy’s bedrooms were on the second floor. They shared a wall—at night, when the house was deathly quiet, he’d sometimes hold a glass up to the wall, dreaming of hearing his sister’s muffled groans as she got herself off before bed.

On more than one occasion, he’d gotten off just imagining that he’d heard something. He never did, of course—either the wall was too thick, his sister was too quiet, or she simply wasn’t a late night masturbator.

So while their shared wall didn’t do him much good, while sitting in the kitchen (directly beneath his sister’s room) for hours, Paddy was able to track his sister’s movement around the room. The faintest creak of floorboards, the shifting of the house’s weight—before long, he could read the sounds almost well enough to record his sister’s every footstep.

All people follow patterns, and it wasn’t long before Paddy started to understand the flow of his sister’s movement around her room.

It was time to do it.

Occasionally, a glimmer of guilt would cross Paddy’s mind. His sister had a reasonable expectation of privacy, he knew that. It wasn’t even that she trusted him, that she trusted her family—it was that it would never even have occurred to her that her own brother might do anything to betray her trust.

But his small glimmer of guilt would go up against the brief, full-frontal image that Paddy had in his mind. His sister’s naked, glistening body.

There was no contest.

Leah was out on a date when he did it. He didn’t even think about it. He’d thought about it, for weeks, imagining exactly what he’d do and how he’d do it. When the moment came, his brain wasn’t the one leading the way.

Paddy had obsessively read the instruction manual for the spy camera more than twenty times. He’d checked to make sure it had the right kind of battery, the right connection to his laptop. He’d triple checked it twice a day and tested it in his own room in various lighting conditions.

If ever a spy camera was going to fail, it wasn’t going to be this one.

So when his sister left for a date, he grabbed the camera without even thinking. He made his way into Leah’s room, closed the door behind him, resisted the temptation to go through her laundry hamper or her clean underwear drawer.

As if on autopilot, he took off his shoes, climbed up on her desk, and installed the camera in the corner that he knew she spent the most time in. If she was in the corner, she was unlikely to be looking into it—she’d be in the frame a little less, but it also had the lowest risk of discovery, and that was what mattered.

After planting the camera, he returned her chair, put his shoes back on, and left her room in the exact state he’d entered it in.

Except for his new gadget, of course.

When Paddy got back to his own room, his heart was pounding. He’d done it.

He’d done it.

His laptop showed that the camera was working—the image quality wasn’t the best, but he’d had to make a choice between resolution and battery life. The model he’d chosen would transmit continuously for over a year, and came with a night vision mode and sound.

The memory of his sister’s naked body would be enough to supplement the image quality. He’d rather fill in the gaps mentally than risk going into his sister’s room to change batteries.

As he lay down on the bed, Paddy’s mind was racing. His questions would be answered. Finally, he’d know if his sister masturbated in her sleep. Finally, he’d know exactly how much time she spent naked when no one was home.

Her every waking moment was his to record.

The teenage boy couldn’t stop smiling the next day as his parents let in the electrician he’d called. As he checked all the power outlets, he didn’t notice the spy camera, though he did make a comment about Paddy’s two mismatched safes.

That evening, Paddy made sure to mention to his parents that he got a strange vibe from the tradesman. If Leah found the camera, he wanted a scapegoat.

For the next month, Paddy found it hard to tear his eyes away from his computer.

Even the tamest footage, shots where only Leah’s right foot was visible as she lay on her bed and went on her computer, or played on her phone. The fact that he was watching her, seeing what she was doing in real-time…

Paddy found himself developing a foot fetish.

He’d never been a voyeur before, but there was something so hot about knowing that he could see his sister, that he was spying on her, that she didn’t know he was watching. The twisted nature of it was enough to keep him rock-hard whenever he was watching the computer screen, and he often found himself idly playing with himself as Leah wandered around her room, cleaning up or just killing time.

Watching her meander aimlessly was enough to get him hard. Watching her change was an entirely different matter.

He didn’t cum in his pants again, as he had from seeing her naked form in real life. Each time she dropped her towel and revealed her flawless tits, her ass, her smooth pussy, Paddy would lean in, stare at the pixels, remember what it had looked like…and cum. And cum, and cum, and cum.

He was surprised by how often his sister changed. Even when she’d picked out an outfit for the day, she’d often try on two or three others to compare. He realized just how lucky he’d been that she hadn’t opened the closet while he was in there. After every shower, she seemed to try on three or four different outfits.

Every other part of Paddy’s life had fallen by the wayside; if he was at home, he was either staring at his laptop, watching his sister, or stealing/cumming in/cleaning/returning her dirty panties.

It wasn’t long before his entire life revolved around his sister’s schedule. Paddy stopped needing to refer to the notebooks—within a few weeks, he’d memorized every minute of his sister’s schedule. To be safe, he burned the notebooks, and started using both safes to store video footage. The hard drives he used weren’t particularly large, but he made sure to keep a lot of back-ups. He didn’t know what he’d do if his footage got corrupted.

To Paddy’s dismay, his sister didn’t seem to masturbate in her room. Even with night vision and sound, he could detect no trace of self-pleasure. He figured that must have been why her showers ran so long. He briefly considered setting up a camera in the shower, but the entire family shared the one bathroom, and the risk of detection was just too high.

Leah occasionally spent time in her room talking on the phone to various girlfriends (Paddy had long ago memorized all of her friend’s details, just in case it came in handy) but for the majority of her time alone, just used her laptop. If Paddy had been more tech-savvy, he would have tried to work out some way to hack it, or to surveil exactly what she did on it…but his skill-level was too low, and the risks were too high. If he got caught…

It didn’t bear thinking about.

Paddy wanted more—god did he want more—but he knew that there was no chance of anything further happening. He couldn’t risk hiding in his sister’s room again (especially now that he knew how often she used her closet) and it wasn’t as though he could make a move on Leah. Anything that risked being taken away from her, the perfect sexual goddess in the room next door…nothing could possibly be worth the risk.

No, he figured this was it—his days spent watching her, using her panties to jerk off, remembering the one time he got to see her naked form.

Until the accident.

One night, Leah came home after a night of drinking (her friend Jillian was dating a college guy, who was happy to provide them with all the alcohol they wanted) and fell straight into bed.

Paddy liked watching his sister sleep. There was something soothing about it. He often wished that he could drift off while watching it, but once he was done watching his sister, had to back up the day’s footage, uninstall the spy-camera software, wipe his hard-drive, and lock everything—including his laptop—into the safes before he could go to sleep.

He stored half the hard-drives in one safe, half in the other.

Just in case.

As he was watching the footage, he heard a loud THUMP, followed by a shattering sound. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened—the mirror on his sister’s dresser had accidentally fallen over and shattered. What’s more, he hadn’t had his laptop’s headphones in—the sound he’d heard had been through the wall.

But his sister continued sleeping.

Paddy was briefly torn, but soon realized—he had a perfect excuse. There was no way this could rumble him. He had heard the sound through the wall; it would be perfectly legitimate for him to go in and see if she was okay.

After backing up the footage, uninstalling the spy-camera software, wiping his hard-drive, and locking everything in the safes, Paddy made his way to his sister’s room.

“Hello?” he called through the door, but there was no response. He knocked a few times, before gently pushing the door open.

Sure enough, the mirror was wrecked. There was glass all over one end of Leah’s bedroom floor. None of it had made it to the bed, so she’d be safe to get up and stumbled into the bathroom, but Paddy figured his sister would want to know what had happened.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Calling his sister’s name, Paddy crept along the floor until he was standing directly beside her bed.

Leah was silently sleeping. Her mouth was wide open, but no snores were coming out.

She’s perfect, Paddy told himself, before reaching out and touching her sleeping shoulder.

God. When was the last time he’d touched her? Even through the thin top she’d gone out in, he could feel how soft her skin was.

Paddy was rock-hard.

He repeated her name, then repeated it louder. There was no response. He gently shook her shoulder, then shook it harder.

Nothing.

No matter how hard he jostled her, no matter how loudly Paddy said his sister’s name, she wasn’t waking up.

She wasn’t waking up.

Paddy’s eyes widened, and a smile slowly crept across his face as he realized.

It seemed there was still further to go.