No More Limits
by Pan
Session 29:
My head was spinning. I’d made a ridiculous, impossible suggestion to my sister—a world in which incest wasn’t frowned-upon…and she’d accepted it as truth.
I could wake her up now and she’d believe that incest was normal. She’d think that a sister and brother being attracted to each other wasn’t a weird perversion, but a standard part of life.
And she’d fuck me.
I had to put the brakes on. I knew this was dangerous territory and that waking her up could…hell, I didn’t even know what it would do. Would her mind just adjust to any discrepancies between how she saw the world, and general societal opinion toward brother-sister fucking?
Or would it break her?
Even though I knew I was treading on thin ice, I couldn’t stop myself. I had to keep exploring, keep asking questions.
Over the next twenty minutes, I blew right past my standard time-limit, asking her every hypothetical I could. I asked her how she wanted to fuck me, and got her to describe it in great, dripping detail. Positions, scenarios…hell, even role-plays.
For almost half an hour, I sat there with the biggest boner of my life as my sister Lucy told me every way she wanted to fuck me, every way she wanted to suck the cum out of me. She told me about how she wanted to make out with Marcie just to turn me on, just to get better at it. She told me about her fantasies of being my sex slave, of dedicating her life, her body and her mind to getting me off.
I’ll tell you what—I’d thought I was perverted, but now I knew it ran in the family. I suppose weeks of getting off while thinking about my cock had given Lucy plenty of time to think up a real smorgasbord of sexual situations, and this impossible scenario had uncorked the barrel.
But…was it impossible?
As my sister’s dirty words washed over me, my mind kept returning to that same question. What would happen if I brought her to the brink, woke her up with the idea that brother/sister relationships weren’t taboo after all?
Would she shut down…or would she open up?
You can’t make someone do anything under hypnosis that they don’t want to do. But my sister’s words, passion and imagination were all telling me the same thing:
This wasn’t something she didn’t want.
Session A63:
The next day, Mom finally asked me to put her under again. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when she did—even though she had no reason to suspect me of anything untoward, I hadn’t been able to shake the idea that she’d somehow managed to link hypnotism with the recent…changes in the household.
Her whole new wardrobe. Lucy (for a while, at least) following suit.
Me and Marcie hooking up.
Mom’s not stupid, and the recent incident with Marcie had told me that I’d been clumsy. I needed to do some damage control…but of course, until she’d come to me, I’d been too nervous to approach her.
It was a catch-22, or a vicious circle or whatever. Mom asking me solved it, but as I put her under, I reminded myself that I still had to tread carefully.
“Would you tell me if you’d noticed anything suspicious lately?”
“Yes.”
“Have you noticed anything suspicious lately?”
“Yes.”
Crap.
“Would you tell me what it is?”
“No.”
Great. Another rabbit for me to chase. Fortunately, by this point I was getting pretty good at it, and within a few minutes I had an oblique way of getting the information I needed from Mom.
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything Lucy has been doing?”
“Yes.”
“Are you suspicious of anything Lucy has been doing?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of how Lucy has been acting?”
“Yes.”
“Are you suspicious of how Lucy has been acting?”
“No.”
That cleared my sister.
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything you’ve been doing?”
“Yes.”
“Are you suspicious of anything you’ve been doing?”
“No.”
So it seemed that she wasn’t aware of any changes in her own behavior—still, I made a mental note to make sure to tidy up any loose ends that might attract her attention.
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything I’ve been doing?”
“No.”
Ah ha.
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of anything between me and Lucy?”
“Yes.”
That was a good sign…still, just to be safe, I asked anyway.
“Are you suspicious of anything between me and Lucy?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of my behavior towards you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you suspicious of my behavior towards you?”
“No.”
Great. Safe on that front too. And so that just left the obvious…
“Would you tell me if you’re suspicious of things between me and Marcie?”
“No.”
“Are you suspic—…”
I cut myself off before I finished the question that I’d almost asked on auto-pilot. For the next few minutes, we sat in silence as I thought.
Thought, and—if I’m being honest—stared.
Mom was wearing a thin grey singlet and no bra. Even a month ago, she would only have ever worn this underneath fifteen other layers…now, she was wearing it around the house without batting an eye. If she leaned the wrong way, she’d probably let a boob loose.
Believe me, it was extraordinarily tempting to test that. She probably wouldn’t even mind me staring—by this point, I had her thoroughly convinced that family members didn’t ever notice each other’s bodies.
No matter how mouth-wateringly curvy they are.
“Okay Mom,” I said eventually. So she wouldn’t talk about it directly with me—fortunately, I had more than enough ways to get around that.
“Hypothetical: you think I’m hooking up with Marcie.”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell me how you feel about that?”
“No.”
“If you thought it was a good thing, then would you tell me how you felt about it?”
“Yes.”
I paused a moment, checking the wording of what I’d just said. Yup, that was pretty airtight. Mom wasn’t happy about me hooking up with my sister’s best friend.
The main roadblock I’d encountered with my mother so far was getting her to talk about sex. Once we got past that, I knew I’d be able to make more changes, push more limits.
As it was, every time the topic came up, she woke up. It was frustrating as hell…but maybe this new development was something I could use to make progress in that direction.
“Wait here.”
Session A11:
“It’s nice when someone finds you attractive, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s nice when someone looks at your body, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You like the feeling, don’t you?”
“I can’t believe how good that still feels. Don’t wait too long before the next session, will you?”
“Of course not, Mom.”
Walls. Walls at every turn.
Session A63:
I’d never left a subject alone while they were under before, but I had an idea that couldn’t wait. Less than five minutes later I was back, a sheath of papers printed from the internet in my hand.
“Read these,” I said, and enjoyed the view of my mother’s huge, unrestrained boobs as her eyes darted back and forth over the information I’d provided.
Normally I’d have had her read them while she was awake (like when I got her to read the Bible) but I couldn’t work out any way of casually dropping a human sexuality textbook into my mother’s “to-read” pile.
“Would you tell me what they said?”
“…yes.”
Her hesitancy made sense, but I wasn’t worried. I’d printed out the fancy-looking cover of the textbook the pages came from, and my mother is a sucker for authority—if the President had rocked up and told her to fuck Lucy, I bet she would have done it without hesitation.
Actually…
No. I slapped the thoughts back. That wasn’t a helpful train of thought to follow.
“It’s a study on happiness. It shows that people who have sex more than three times each week are happier people.”
“Your son having sex with Marcie makes him happier, doesn’t it?”
“Y…yes,” she said. There was that hesitation again, but she pushed through.
Still, I took the pages away from her. If she woke up now, the printout would be another loose end that I didn’t want to clean up.
“It’s important that your family is happy, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s important that your son is happy.”
“Yes.”
“You should do what you can to help your son be happy.”
“Yes.”
“It’s important that your son has regular sex, isn’t it?”
There was a long, long pause, and I was glad I’d hidden the papers. Just as I thought Mom was going to wake up, she answered.
“…yes.”
Progress! It may not have sounded like much, but this was by far the most conversation I’d ever had with my mother about sex.
“So it’s good for your son to hook up with Marcie, isn’t it?”
“No.”
I raised one eyebrow. Not the answer I’d been expecting.
“Would you tell me why not?”
“Yes.”
“Why isn’t it good for your son to hook up with Marcie?”
“Because she’s not good enough for him.”
Again, an answer out of left field.
“What?”
“Marcie isn’t good enough for him.”
“I…”
I paused. I genuinely hadn’t expected this train of thought.
“Would you tell me what you think of Marcie?”
“No.”
I smiled. This was an easy mental lock to pick.
“Would you tell me if you didn’t like Marcie?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you liked Marcie?”
“Yes.”
There we go.
Session A12:
“Would you tell me if you’ve ever checked someone else out?”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell me who?”
“No.”
Of course.
Session A63:
So Mom didn’t like Marcie. Interesting. I didn’t know what I could really do with that, but it was definitely interesting to know. But I wanted to press through, and take advantage of the fact that I’d gotten Mom talking about sex.
“You want the very best for me and Lucy, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That means you want us to be happy, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want you and Lucy to be happy.”
“You want us to be as happy as possible, right?”
“Yes.”
“What did you just learn would make us happy?”
“People are happier when they have sex three or more times each week.”
Not so much as a pause. Amazing.
“So what should your children be doing to be more happy?
“Having sex three times or more each week.”
I choked down a burst of laughter.
“Say it.”
“My children should be having sex three times or more each week.”
I briefly considered taking advantage of her poor phrasing, but I knew it wouldn’t work. It’d be pretty amazing if it did though—it would probably be the first ever time that poor grammar led to incest.
“Do you think Lucy should find someone to have sex with?”
There was a long pause to that one. I didn’t want to risk ending the session, and so after ten seconds I jumped in.
“Let me rephrase. Do you think Lucy should have sex three or more times each week?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I should?”
“Yes.”
This was by far the most I’d managed to get my mother to talk about sex. Maybe I should have started printing out textbook pages for her earlier.
“So you think I should have sex three or more times each week, right?”
“Yes.”
“But not with Marcie, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said with a pause. “So what would be the best way to make everyone happy, including you?”
“If you found someone else to hook up with.”
I had a sudden thought, and leaned forward, excited.
“What if that person was you?
“I swear, it’s better than a massage. My headache is completely gone—thanks so much, kiddo.”
Yeah, okay. Didn’t really think that one through.
Session A12:
“Would you tell me if you’ve ever been attracted to someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
“Who else?”
“Thanks so much! You’re really getting good at this.”
God damn it, Mom. How did you become such a prude?
Session A64:
The next morning, I woke my mother up for an early-morning session. It was a bit risky, after the abrupt ending last time I’d put her under, but she’d once told me that my hypnotism was “as good as sleep.” I knew she was incredibly busy for the next few days, and so if I didn’t do it then, I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize her until the end of the week.
And it was obvious what I’d done wrong. I wouldn’t be making that mistake again.
“Okay Mom.”
I paused. Not because I was at a loss for what to say next; just to enjoy the view. She was wearing her semitransparent nightgown again, and since she didn’t think I was attracted to her, I could blatantly check her out without it being an issue.
Those tits. Someday, I was going to see them without a layer of cloth in the way.
Some day, I was going to get my hands on them.
But not today. I’d learned from Lucy—sometimes you have to go backwards in order to go forwards, and that was what I had to do with Mom.
“Hypothetical: You think Marcie and I are hooking up.”
Nod.
“You think Marcie and I are having sex.”
Nod.
“You don’t think she’s good enough for me.”
Nod. My lip curled into a frown. I didn’t like that Mom didn’t like…well, not “my girlfriend” exactly, but…someone who was very important to me. And Lucy’s best friend, at that.
Still, this wasn’t the time to get caught up on that.
“You think I deserve someone better.”
Nod. I hesitated—I was fairly sure this path wasn’t going to work, but it was worth a try.
“Lucy also needs someone to hook up with, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Lucy is good enough for your son, isn’t she?”
There was a long pause, but to my surprise, Mom answered:
“Yes.”
I knew it was the phrasing that had let me get away with that, but I stored it away for future reference. Mom thought her children were good enough for each other—I was sure there was something I could do with that.
“People are happier when they have sex three or more times each week, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Generally speaking, are you a happy person?”
“Yes.”
I knew that asking directly would just wake her up, but I was fairly confident I could skirt around the issue and get Mom talking about her sex life, at least in the abstract.
“You could be happier, couldn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you do everything you can to be as happy as you can?”
“No,” Mom admitted, and—don’t ask me how—her monotone simultaneously managed to have a tone of warning and a note of sadness in it.
“Can you think of something specific you could do to be happier?”
“Yes.”
“What’s stopping you from doing it?”
“I…”
There was a slight pause, and I jumped in. I’d already woken Mom up by accident once, I didn’t want to do it twice in two days.
“Would you tell me what’s stopping you from doing it?”
Again, a slight pause, but this time it was followed by a firm “Yes.”
“What’s stopping you from doing it?”
“I don’t have a man in my life,” Mom admitted, her blank eyes staring straight at me.
Session A12:
“Would you tell me if you like feeling sexy?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you like the attention of men?”
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you ever admire yourself in a mirror?”
“No.”
Seriously?
Session A64:
I sat back thoughtfully. There were a lot of paths in front of me, but none of them led anywhere obvious.
Realistically, I was still a long way off doing anything sexual with Mom. I could barely get her to discuss sex, let alone run her long tongue up and down my…well, anything connected to me.
But at the rate things were going with Lucy, there was a chance—a remote one, but still a chance—that things would start getting steamier between us. And if nothing else, I needed to make sure that Mom didn’t catch us, or who knew what would happen.
The image of her staring blankly at the family album popped back into my head, and I shuddered. That was something I knew I had to avoid at all costs.
Making sure Mom didn’t suspect anything…or freak out if she did. That was the order of the day.