More Limits
Chapter 3
My sister, at long last, had gotten up the courage to admit that she was attracted to me.
Well, sort of. Yeah, she’d admitted that she was attracted to me…but “courage” had nothing to do with it.
I’d convinced her, under hypnosis, that I was the person that she trusted most in the world. And then I had slowly built up an attraction to me, and told her that it was dangerous to bottle up secrets.
So if she had to tell someone, then surely it made the most sense to tell me, the person she trusted most in the world.
Last session, those beautiful words had come out of her mouth—“I think you’re sexy.” I’d spent the last few minutes of the session jerking off as she repeated the words, staring blankly, speaking in a monotone.
“I think you’re sexy.”
“Say it again.”
“I think you’re sexy.”
When I’d cum, even though she hadn’t so much as glanced at my cock, a slight flush came over her face—she clearly found it hot. I was tempted to let her get off as well, but then we would have gone long—I try to limit our sessions to half an hour, just to make sure she doesn’t get suspicious about what we do while she’s under.
Instead, I just woke her up, hoping that she wouldn’t link her sudden arousal to the fact that I’d just hypnotized her.
When it was time for our next session, I ignored my first impulse to build on that and try to get her to act on her attraction. I thought about it, and decided to play it safe, focus on something else.
And so I decided to go down a path that I’d been ignoring so far.
For as long as I’ve been masturbating, there’s been three images in my head when I cum—sex with my sister Lucy, sex with my Mom…and sex between my sister and my Mom.
Now you might think that was impossible. And hell, maybe you’d be right. Maybe I should have just been content with the increasingly-real prospect of getting to fuck my sister. After all, I’d made practically no leeway with Mom so far…
But what can I say? I dream big. And so the next time I got a chance to sit down with my sister, I had two goals: try to make her more comfortable with incest… and see if there was any possibility of her ever being interested in Mom.
Honestly, I didn’t have a lot of hope. But nothing ventured, nothing gained—right?
Session 24:
“Would you tell me if you were ever attracted to women?”
“No.”
Right out of the gate, I was blocked. Honestly, that took me by surprise—she was okay telling me that she was attracted to her own flesh and blood, but a bit of bicuriousity was off-limits?
Ha. Who was I kidding? Nothing was off-limits. Not any more.
“Would you tell me why you wouldn’t tell me if you were ever attracted to women?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Interesting. I hadn’t heard this one before.
“Why isn’t it any of my business?”
“What a girl thinks about in private is…”
She hesitated, searching for a word, before concluding monotonally:
“…private.”
Interesting. I don’t think Lucy had even realized how much information she’d just given me in her attempt to avoid sharing any information…
“Okay. Hypothetical.”
I was stumped for a few minutes. What kind of a hypothetical could I build that required her to share an attraction to women? But I’d been doing this for a while, and I had begun to impress even myself with my ability to think my way out of a tight situation.
“We’re on a game show. In Japan.”
Nod.
A few years ago, Marcie had found all these weird sexual Japanese game shows. Apparently sex is more than just a private recreational activity over there—it’s something that they use as mainstream entertainment.
I mean, I guess we do too…but ours is all fantasy. Sexy women selling cars, that sort of thing—you know that they’re just a model who goes home to their rich husband and fucks the gardener. Not the kind of person you’d ever stand a chance with.
These shows had real people sharing real sexual secrets, and even real sexual activities. It was bizarre. Marcie and Lucy had watched a bunch of them, before moving onto whatever the next viral trend was.
“We’ve gone on together, as a brother and sister.”
No response.
“We’ve seen the show a few times, and know that they’d never make us do anything sexual with each other.”
Nod.
“The first round involves making out with an attractive stranger of the opposite sex. Do you do it?”
There was a long pause.
“The show will never be aired in America,” I added, but there was still no response. I think she was worried about being seen as a slut on national television. “And none of our friends know that we’re on it.”
That would help if she accidentally woke up. Explaining away a trip to Japan and an appearance on a Japanese game show would be difficult…but if no one we knew was aware of it, not impossible.
“And this show works hard to take down online uploads. They’re really anti-piracy. The odds of anyone you know seeing it are almost zero.”
She continued to ponder, but finally I was rewarded with a short nod.
“I do too. We get through to the second round.”
Jesus, this was the tamest Japanese game show ever. It was a tricky balance, making it believably entertaining, and also something my sister would do.
“The second round involves…”
What was Lucy pretty nonchalant about? She hadn’t minded jerking me off, but those were extenuating circumstances. I really didn’t think she’d be likely to do that kind of thing on national television, even if it was in a different country.
Of course, her opinion of me was pretty low. Maybe I could take one for the team.
“The second round involves jerking off and trying to hit a target.”
Nod.
“I succeed, using the tips that you gave me on how to jerk off.”
An oh-so-slight smile appeared on Lucy’s face. Ego and sympathy, that’s how you play my sis.
“So we get through to the final round. It’s us and one other couple. We’re in the running for the main prize, a…”
Shit. What were the prizes on these things? I hadn’t watched nearly as many as my sister.
“…a brand new Japanese car. You know Mom has been wanting as second car forever.”
True.
Lucy nodded almost instantly. Sympathy and ego. That’s all it takes.
“The final challenge is simple—they’ve shown us an attractive Japanese guy and girl. If I make out with the guy, or you make out with the girl, we win.”
I took a deep breath.
“I turn to you, looking scared. I tell you that I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it. I can’t kiss a guy, especially not on TV. What do you say?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lucy replied warmly, a smile on her face. “You did so well last round—how about I do this, and we’ll surprise Mom with the car?”
That was easier than I’d expected. But as I hypothetically thanked her, I realized that I hadn’t actually gotten the information I was after. Sure, she’d make out with a strange girl for a car, but…who wouldn’t?
I needed to push it further.
“Okay. You make out with the girl for like twenty minutes…”
I paused. Shake. Yeah, that one wasn’t going to fly.
“Ten minutes?”
Shake.
“Five minutes.”
Nod.
“We win the car, and go back to the hotel. We go to our own separate beds, but we’re too excited to sleep. The light is off, but after a few hours, after I assume you’ve gone to sleep…you hear the sound of me jerking off.”
Nod.
“You decide to masturbate as well.”
Nod. I love that it wasn’t even questioned that any more.
There was a long pause, as I considered how to word this, before deciding to just go for it.
“You think about making out with the Japanese girl as you do.”
Nod.
Session A24:
“Hypothetical: when you were eight years old, you skinned your knee.”
Nod. Good. I hadn’t tried any hypotheticals this far back, but Mom seemed to be going for it.
“You’re eight. You’re innocent.”
Nod. Don’t worry, this isn’t going anywhere dirty. Not yet.
“When you look at the graze on your knee, you realize that you have really pretty legs.”
I leaned forward with bated breath, and released it with a sigh as Mom nodded.
“New hypothetical—you’re nine years old. You’re looking at a catalogue…”
I paused. Did they even have catalogues when Mom was nine? Fortunately she nodded, so I was able to continue.
“…and you see a pretty dress.”
Nod.
“You think it would show some of your legs…but you’re okay with that, because they’re pretty.”
Nod.
“Different hypothetical—you’re ten years old.”
Nod. Good. It would have been weird if she’d disagreed with that.
“You get to choose whether you wear a skirt or pants to school.”
Nod.
“You choose the skirt, because you like your legs.”
Nod.
I continued, year by year, until Mom was “sixteen”.
“Hypothetical—there’s a boy in your class who likes you.”
Nod.
“You overhear him talking to your friends—he likes you because you have such nice legs.”
She nodded, but it took a while.
“You think you have nice legs, don’t you?”
“No.”
That was frustrating, for a few seconds, but then I realized how I’d phrased it.
“When you were sixteen, you thought you had good legs, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Excellent. I don’t know if that was true beforehand, but it was certainly true now.
“Okay. Hypothetical—you’re seventeen years old. You’re hanging out with a bunch of your girl friends, and they’re all talking about the part of their body that they hate the most.”
This would be easier if they were discussing the body-part they liked the most, but I needed to keep it realistic. Mom nodded.
“It gets around to you. What do you say?”
Mom mumbled, and I had to ask her to repeat herself.
“My legs.”
God damn it, Mom. Why do you have to make this so difficult?
“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “Hypothetical. You’re six. You’re an innocent.”
Nod.
Session B26:
Marcie sat before me, my docile little fuck toy. Even though she wasn’t my sister or my mother, who I’d been lusting after for my entire life, I was quite fond of Marcie. Part of it was just that she was so…pliable. With no resistance to incest to overcome, it was so easy to sway her. I’d spent almost as much time with Mom as I had with Marcie, and where I was just barely starting to make a scratch on my mother’s limits, Marcie’s had been steamrolled long ago.
Still, there’s always new limits to overcome. I just had to find them before I could break them.
“Marcie, can you hear me?”
“Mmmm?”
I loved that contented sound from her. It was tempting to just flip her over and fuck her now that she was under, but I’d already done that once while she was awake…and what was the point of Marcie as a test subject if I wasn’t going to try stuff out on her?
“Marcie, would you tell me how you felt about me?”
“Yeah, if you asked.”
“Marcie, how do you feel about me?”
“I think you’re sexy. I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I’ve known you. I’ve dreamt of getting to fuck you since we met. I masturbate thinking about you…”
“How would you feel if I broke up with you?”
“I’d be sad.”
“Would you get over it?”
“It would take a while, but yeah.”
That seemed like the next step. It had been easy enough to get Marcie to want me. And once that was done, it had been child’s play to get Marcie to fuck me. But getting Marcie to need me?
It wasn’t good enough, getting over me after a few weeks, or even months. I wanted Marcie to need me. I wanted Marcie to not be able to imagine life without me.
If I broke up with Marcie, I wanted it to destroy her.
This wasn’t, I should stress, to be cruel. I didn’t care enough about Marcie to be bothered being cruel, to be honest. I had no plan to suddenly break up with her. It wasn’t about power, it wasn’t about ego.
It was about pushing past a human’s normal limits. Because if I could turn Marcie from a friend of a sister to my own personal sex-slave, powered by undying love…
…then I could turn my sister from a normal, loving sister, into the kind of person who would fuck her brother.
Jerking someone off, that’s an act of kindness. Lusting after someone happens to people all the time, purely by accident—I once had a sex dream about my 60-year old male teacher, and I’m as straight as they come.
I wanted my sister to fuck me. But more than that, I wanted her to want to fuck me. But I couldn’t risk making mistakes on her, and so Marcie—cruel though it may have seemed—needed to fill that role.
“Okay,” I said, after a few minutes thought. “Hypothetical. You’re fifteen years old.”
I know what you’re thinking—“Didn’t we just do this?” Well, yes and no. I’d gone through my Mom’s life with her twice, aging her from 6 up until 30. No matter how many years I’d gone through, it hadn’t stuck. She still hated her legs, and even though I could get her hypothetically loving them at each age, as soon as I gave her autonomy, she went straight back to hating them.
And then I’d remembered—hypotheticals could be used to change someone’s unconscious behavior, but for them to alter a thought pattern, the subject needed to wake up halfway through. I had no idea what would wake my Mom up, and even more importantly—I had no idea whether changing a memory that far back could have some kind of permanent damage.
Enter Marcie.
“We’ve just met for the first time.” True. We really did meet when she was fifteen. “You’re immediately attracted to me.”
Nod.
“You think I’m the most attractive boy you’ve ever met.”
Nod.
“I stick in your head for the rest of the day.”
Nod. Not quickly, but it was there.
“You think I’m ridiculously, incredibly hot.”
Nod.
“I become the biggest crush you’ve ever had.”
Nod.
“You’re so attracted to me, other boys become less attractive by comparison.”
It was slow, but the nod was there.
“The next time you see me, you’re again struck by how attractive I am.”
Nod. That was another reason I liked Marcie—hanging out with her was a real ego-boost. I know I was the one implanting the suggestions…but she was the one agreeing with them!
“Each and every time you see me, I grow more and more attractive in your eyes.”
There was quite a long pause, that time, but the nod came. I smiled. I’d suddenly realized how I could wake her up—that was always the hardest part, finding a way to straddle the line between acceptable and impossible, causing them to drift back into consciousness, my hypotheticals cemented as reality.
“Pretty soon, you don’t have any other crushes.”
Nod.
“It doesn’t take long for me to be the only boy you’re interested in.”
Nod. Wow. I mean, sure I’d set the groundwork for this, but still…
“Other boys aren’t attractive to you any more.”
She paused. She pondered. And then she nodded.
“The actors you used to crush on aren’t nearly as attractive as they used to be.”
The pause was longer that time, but she nodded.
“After knowing me for just a month, you’re not attracted to any other boys, or any other men…”
Shake. Okay, good. Glad to know she’s not completely malleable. Then I wouldn’t learn anything.
“After knowing me for a year, you don’t have any other crushes.”
Nod.
“After knowing me for six months, you don’t find anyone else attractive…”
Nod.
“After knowing me for just three months, you don’t daydream about anyone else.”
Slow, slow nod.
“Or anything else.”
Even slower.
“In fact, after knowing me for just three months, other men actively repulse you…”
She thought about it. I know she thought about it, because her eyes spaced out, her breathing quickened. But just as I thought she was about to nod…she blinked twice, and slowly came back to consciousness.
“Oh!” she said, looking at me in confusion. “Hey sexy! Was just thinking about you…”
She leaned in to kiss me, and her eyes sparkled even more than usual. Maybe I was imagining it, but she seemed way more enthused to see me.
I held out my hand and put one finger on her lips before they could meet mine.
“Marcie?”
She didn’t respond.
“Marcie, can you hear me?”
“Of course I can. Idiot.”
A slight blush came over her face as she playfully insulted me, as if she was afraid of how I’d react. That was certainly new.
“Marcie, how long have we known each other?”
She laughed, and my heart rate increased.
“Years, idiot. Ever since I was fifteen…”
Phew.
I moved my finger away from her mouth and let her kiss me. Even as she did, a sparkle of triumph never left my eye.