More Limits
Chapter 4
Session 24:
After my sister hypothetically masturbated while thinking about the strange girl she’d just made out with, two things were obvious: firstly, even though she wouldn’t consciously admit it (or even admit it under hypnosis) my sister clearly had a strong bicurious streak.
And secondly, it was obvious what I needed to do next.
“Okay. Forget that hypothetical.” I didn’t want to accidentally wake her, and have to explain why we didn’t own a new Japanese car. “Let me ask you a question:
“Would you tell me if you thought Mom was attractive?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Mom is attractive?”
“Yes.”
I almost did a double-take. That was way, way too easy.
“Hang on. Are you saying you’re attracted to Mom?”
“No.”
Ah. That made more sense.
“What do you mean then?”
“I think that Mom is objectively attractive.”
Great. So my sister could see it, but I still couldn’t convince Mom herself.
“Okay. Would you tell me if you were attracted to Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Are you attracted to Mom?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s my mother.”
I grinned.
“Would you tell me if you thought I was sexy?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I trust you more than I trust anyone else in the world.”
“Do you think I’m sexy?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I think you’re sexy.”
God I loved hearing that.
“Would you tell me if you thought Mom was sexy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Mom is sexy?”
“No.”
Lucy’s brain seemed to equate ‘being attracted to someone’ and ‘that person being sexy’. I briefly toyed with the idea of finding a loophole, but that would be dissatisfying even if it succeeded. I didn’t want to trick her into admitting an attraction…I wanted her to be attracted.
“Are you attracted to me?”
“Yes.”
She blushed as she said it.
“Even though I’m your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Right. You’re attracted to me and I’m your brother.”
I won’t lie, just saying those words got me hard.
“So clearly you can be attracted to someone even though you’re related. Right?”
“…I suppose.”
“So even though you’re related to Mom, you can still find her sexy. Right?”
There was a long pause, but Lucy eventually agreed.
“Mom is very attractive, isn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“She’s got gorgeous legs, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And a nice slim waistline. Isn’t Mom’s waistline attractive?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything about Mom that isn’t attractive?”
“Yes,” Lucy answered, quickly enough that if Mom had heard, I’m sure her feelings would have been hurt.
“What?”
“The way she dresses.”
I had to agree, but I was already doing everything I could to fix that.
“Okay,” I said. “So she dresses a little dowdy. If Johnny Depp dressed in unattractive clothes, would he still be sexy?”
There was a pause so long that I was worried that Lucy was going to wake up (not that I really needed to be worried—we weren’t halfway through a hypothetical) but she eventually answered.
“Yes.”
“Someone’s attractiveness isn’t determined by their clothes, is it?”
“Not entirely, no.”
“Imagine if Johnny Depp was naked in front of you.”
That blush was back.
“Would he be attractive?”
“Yes.”
“Would you be attracted to him?”
“Yes.”
“Would he be sexy?”
“Yes.”
“So to really decide if someone is sexy, it’s more important how they look naked than how they look with clothes, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Mom would be attractive without clothes on?”
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to force them back in. What a stupid question—if she interpreted that the wrong way, she’d wake up for sure. Fortunately for me, she must have been thinking about it clinically, because she agreed almost immediately.
“Yes.”
I took a deep breath, and decided to have a break. We could work this out next time.
Session B29:
“Hypothetical—you’re eighteen.”
Nod.
I’d spent the last few sessions doing sixteen and seventeen. It was more of the same, really—increase her attraction to me, decrease her attraction to all other males. I hoped that hitting each year would be enough—if it didn’t work, I was happy to go back and alter memories every six months.
A part of me sensed that retroactively changing more memories than that would be dangerous. Who knew how much you could mess someone up by altering huge chunks of their childhood?
It had been pretty effective so far—she was really, really into me. But this time I wanted to be more specific…I wanted to really focus her obsession, and I knew exactly how to go about it.
I’d learned a few things from the last two sessions. Firstly, the more turned on Marcie was, the more wild the hypotheticals could be. Secondly, and most importantly: for some reason, if she was on the cusp of cumming, it was way, way easier to wake her up.
Before putting her under, we’d fooled around for a bit, and by the time Marcie entered the trance, she was wet, naked, and had two of my fingers languidly pumping in and out of her pussy.
“For your eighteenth birthday, Lucy got you a dildo.”
Nod. That one was a bonus—she really had. I don’t know whether it had been a gag gift, or if my sister had been strangely concerned about Marcie’s masturbatory habits, but it served my purposes perfectly.
“As soon as you’re alone in your room that night, you pull it out and look at it.”
Nod.
“You imagine that it’s mine, don’t you?”
“Mmm,” she replied, ever so softly. I smiled.
“You look at your new sex toy and you wish it was my cock, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes..”
“You’re imagining it’s my cock.”
Nod.
“You move it closer to your face. You’re imagining that it’s my cock in front of you, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You smell it. It just smells like latex, but in your mind, you can smell my sweat, my skin.”
Nod.
“You move it to your lips, and slowly extend your tongue.”
Nod.
“You lick the head of your new toy, imagining that it’s my cock that you can taste.”
Nod.
“Soon you can’t hold back. You slip the head of the dildo in between your lips, pretending that you’re taking my erection into your mouth for the very first time.”
Nod.
“Are you wet?”
“Yeah.”
“How wet?”
“So wet.”
“But even though it’s just a toy, you know you can’t play with yourself until you’ve pleasured it, don’t you?”
“Yesss…”
“Even though I’m not really there, you know that my pleasure comes first. You’re nothing but a slut—you don’t get off until you’ve gotten me off.”
“Mmmm…”
“So you take the toy, and with both hands you insert it into your mouth. You fellate the plastic cock with everything you’ve got. You deep throat that dildo until you picture me cumming in your mouth…”
“Oh god, yes…”
“You’ve thought about my penis so many times, haven’t you Marcie?”
“So many…”
“You can’t get off unless you’re thinking of me, can you?”
“No…”
“But not just thinking of me. You need to think about serving me, don’t you?”
“Yes…oh god, yes…”
Marcie’s whole body was sporadically wracked with spasms of pleasure at this point. I knew she was close to cumming, but I didn’t want to push her over the edge. Not yet. I continued pumping two fingers in and out of her sopping wet pussy as I spoke. Her glassy eyes were sporadically rolling back, but always returned to look directly in front of her as I spoke.
“Every time you get off, you fellate your dildo first, don’t you?”
“Yesssss…”
“Every time you’re with another guy, you’re thinking of me, aren’t you?”
“Of cooourssse…”
I wasn’t the first guy to fool around with Marcie, and I didn’t know what kind of damage erasing them would do, so I’d carefully worked them into the narrative.
“You can’t cum without thinking of my pleasure, can you?”
“Not a chance…”
“You can’t cum without thinking of getting me off…”
“Nnngh…please…”
“You’d fuck anyone if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes! Oh god, yes!”
She was close now. I grinned, and delivered a line that I knew would wake her up.
“You’d fuck your own father if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”
Marcie’s eyes widened in shock, and just as she had the previous two sessions, she drifted back into consciousness, a strange look of horror—and arousal—upon her face.
When Marcie was turned on, her line was exactly incest, I’d discovered. All I needed to do was hypothetically instruct her to fuck her own father, and she’d wake up, all my previous instructions firmly implanted in her brain.
With a bit of effort, I’m sure I could actually get her to fuck her Dad, but obviously that wouldn’t serve my purpose at all…and yeah, I think her father would have something to say about it as well. But for now, it served as a perfect trigger to wake her up slowly, drift her back into consciousness and ensure that the new memories, as far as she was concerned, were reality.
If all went to plan, we’d reach a point where instructing her to fuck her own father wouldn’t be enough to stop her, and I’d have to find another trigger. But I figured we’d cross that bridge when we came to it, and as long as I didn’t implant instructions to actually fuck her father, we could get around that.
“Oh fuck,” she said, looking down at my fingers as they continued to thrust in and out of her wetness. “Oh please. Please, fuck me. I need to get you off. Please…please?”
I smiled, and just shook my head. She didn’t want to cum, I could tell—not without getting me off first—but her body was betraying her, and as an orgasm came over her body, her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure.
I couldn’t be certain, not without further looking into it, but I was pretty sure that I’d just implanted a powerful obsession with my pleasure (and my cock) into Marcie.
Once I’d done the same with my sister and my mother, I wouldn’t need her any more, but I was confident I would be able to reverse everything I’d done, or at least divert it to another target. In the meantime, I was enjoying using her body for my pleasure, and I’d ensured that she enjoyed it too.
As Marcie came down from her orgasm, I got undressed. The second my erection sprang into view, she crawled toward it, knowing exactly what to do.
Session C1:
“Now, Richard…do you mind if I call you Richard?”
“No.”
“Richard—how do you feel?”
“Good. Calm. Relaxed.”
If his monotone and blank stare hadn’t been enough, his words would have told me he was definitely under. He was reacting exactly the way Lucy, Mom and Marcie had, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d never done this to a male before, but it had worked.
“Would you tell me why you let me hypnotize you, Richard?”
“Hoped it would help.”
Interesting. He went straight to answering; I didn’t need to bounce around as much. It seemed that Richard was far more upfront than my other subjects had been. Maybe it was a guy thing?
“Help what?”
“Help me feel better.”
“And has it?”
“Mmm.”
“Has it helped, Richard?”
“Yes. Feel better. Relaxed.”
“Good. You like feeling relaxed, don’t you Richard?”
“Mmm.”
“And you feel relaxed when I hypnotize you, don’t you?”
“Mmmm.”
“So in order to feel relaxed, you want me to hypnotize you—am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Say it, Richard.”
“In order to feel relaxed…want you to hypnotize me.”
“Good.”
I could have almost ended it there, but curiosity bit me. By all reason, Richard shouldn’t have let me “help” him, but he had, and I wanted to know why.
“It’s important to you to feel relaxed, isn’t it Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Only time…”
He hesitated. I considered prompting him, but I figured the worst-case scenario was that he woke up, and all evidence pointed toward him letting me hypnotize him again.
After a long pause, he slowly finished the sentence.
“…only time it stops hurting so much.”