The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1

The strangeness began for me one June not long ago, when my stepbrother Ryan graduated from college early–he had done four years of work in just three–and came back home to Glamis. I had just turned eighteen three weeks before that and was looking ahead to the fall and to starting college myself. Not a prestigious institution like Parmenter Institute of Technology, where Ryan had gone, of course, but just the local community college, at least for the first couple of years. Then we’d see.

My mom and stepdad were okay parents, I guess. Tom–I’d never call him “Dad,” even though my own father hadn’t been so hot, deserting Mom and me when I was only three years old–worked as chief auditor for a business, a whole chain of mortuaries. It was creepy in a way, but as Tom said, it was a recession-proof business. Anyway, he was gone about three weeks out of the month, making sure people were getting buried and cremated and the company was charging the right prices and collecting the fees on time and all like that, across about a dozen states. Mom worked part time as a librarian.

She’d married Tom when I was just twelve and Ryan was fourteen. We tolerated each other okay. I mean, Ryan thought he was already practically an adult, so he called me funny little nicknames that I hated. My name’s Elizabeth, and I can deal with Beth, but to Ryan I was “Lizard,” “Lizzy,” “Bessie,” “Bossy” (whenever I wouldn’t let him have his own way, like the time I ate the last bowlful of his favorite cereal and he got mad about it). In high school, because I was shy and didn’t rush off to start hanging with guys, he started calling me “Lezzie” behind my mom’s back

I could have retaliated. I mean, he was geeky. Half a head taller than me, with shaggy unkempt hair and glasses and really skinny. He had a ribcage you could play “Chopsticks” on if you had some xylophone mallets. And his face always looked like a pizza, because he had the worst case of acne I’d ever seen, and no dermatologist seemed to be able to help him with it. To tell the truth, Ryan was a walking disaster area, and if he ever had a real date in high school, I didn’t know about it. In fact, he wasn’t much better in college. The last time I’d seen him, at Christmas before he finished up his studies, he was still googly-eyed behind his heavy specks and his face still looked like a relief map of some volcanic area. He’d become even skinnier, too. He couldn’t really afford to lose that much weight–he looked positively emaciated that December.

What a difference six months can make, though. We drove up to the big city for Ryan’s graduation ceremony, and when he greeted us in his cap and gown, I didn’t even know him at first. He’d ditched the glasses. His complexion was smooth and dark now, sort of an intriguing olive-tan, that really showed off his big brown eyes. He’d let his hair grow a little longer than I was used to seeing it, and it was a real curly mop of chestnut brown, casual but it suited him. His nose, which had always looked beaky before, somehow fit his face better, and his chin was firm and prominent. And he’d buffed up. “What have you been doing, son?” Tom asked him.

With a white grin, Ryan explained that the college health program provided free laser eye surgery if you agreed to let medical students observe the procedure. And since his last semester had been light, compared to the earlier ones where he was taking double class loads, he had started to work out in the gym. “Guess that did something to my hormones,” Ryan confessed. Even his voice was deeper! “Anyway, my acne started to clear up. Now it’s just about gone!”

Just about, he said–I wished my own complexion was that clear! I’d never had the kinds of outbreaks that Ryan suffered, but at that very moment I had a zit at the corner of my mouth, covered but not fully concealed by make-up.

The graduation was outdoors in an amphitheater, and we sat close to the front. A girl about my age came to sit next to me, because she had a camera and her family wanted her to take a picture of her brother as he walked across the stage and received his diploma. There were the usual boring speeches of welcome and then the distinguished guy who said this is the start of a new part of your lives, yada yada. Then the Dean or some dude began to give out special awards, and when he called out “Ryan Harrison,” and Ryan came up to receive a medal and a certificate for setting a new record in fast-track studies or whatever they called it, the girl next to me whispered, “My God! He’s gorgeous!”

“He’s my brother,” I whispered back.

“If he was mine, I’d seriously consider incest!”

She was joking, but I sort of saw what she meant. Ryan carried himself with a new kind of poise and certainty, and there was, I don’t know, an aura about him. Like he gave off waves of sex appeal or something. I could see that even some of the women teachers and officials sitting on the stage were eyeing him with lust. I mean, their tongues were practically hanging out! Anyways, the program went on for over an hour, and then the two or three hundred graduates marched across the stage one at a time, and Ryan got his diploma, and that was it. Afterwards we went around meeting some of his teachers and his friends at PIT–a surprising number of girls, all of them good-looking, and all of them docile and smiling toward my stepbrother–and then it was time to pack up his stuff and head back home. Tom had rented a van, which we stuffed with all the junk from Ryan’s dingy dorm room, and Ryan filled up his own POS car with computers and tech stuff. “Want to ride back with me, keep me company, Sis?” he asked me as we finished cramming the last thing in.

“Sure,” I said. “We look like the Joads on the way to California, don’t we?”

“I guess,” he replied. “You can be Rose of Sharon if I get hungry on the drive, okay?”

My face burned. “I didn’t know you’d ever read The Grapes of Wrath. But I’m not gonna pretend to be Rose of Sharon. Especially not with you!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing easily. I got into the passenger seat, and Ryan climbed in behind the wheel. He plugged a power cord into the dash, then plugged the free end–a tiny USB cable–into a rectangular device hooked onto his belt.

“Great,” I said. “I haven’t even spoken to you since Christmas break, and you don’t want to talk to me on the way home.”

“Who says?”

“You plugged in your tunes!”

He grinned. “I’m not going to listen to music,” he promised. “I’m just . . . charging up, that’s all. Let’s go.”

Mom and Tom pulled out in the loaded van and lumbered ahead. Ryan put on shades and started the engine of his clunky old GT and we creaked after them. I was staring out the window at the red-brick buildings of Parmenter, hiding my blushing face from my stepbrother. At the end of Grapes of Wrath, the sister, Rose of Sharon, who was lactating, offered her breast to a grown man who was on the verge of starvation, and he suckled her like a baby. Even though I was pretty sure he was just yanking my chain, Ryan was suggesting something, well, dirty. It was probably my fault, though, for bringing up the novel to start with. Huh. As if I’d ever let my own stepbrother put his lips on my nipples!

Which were oddly tingly and hard. . . .

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home for your high school graduation,” Ryan told me.

“It’s okay. I know you were in the middle of finals and all.”

We drove for a few minutes without talking. Then Ryan gave me a sideways glance. “Hey, Sis, you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Me? No.” But immediately I did start to feel a little empty. “I guess I could eat something, though.”

“Lend me your phone.”

“You shouldn’t drive and talk on a cell phone.”

“Dial Mom’s number for me, then lend me your phone.”

I punched in Mom’s number and passed the phone to Ryan. He thumbed the speaker-phone feature on and I heard Mom’s phone ring once before she caught it: “Hello, dear.”

“It’s me, Mom,” Ryan said. “Sis and I are gonna stop for a couple of burgers if that’s okay with you and Dad. I didn’t have time for lunch.”

“All right. Thanks for letting us know.”

“No problem.” Ryan flipped the phone shut and dropped it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll give it back when we get to the restaurant,” he promised. “Don’t let me forget.”

“I won’t. I don’t think you’d want a pink phone, anyway.”

We had reached the fringes of the college town. Ryan turned off the main drag, zigzagged a couple of times, and pulled up in front of a busy burger place–not a chain, but a local place with lots of cars parked around it. He unplugged his player, got out of the car, and even held the door of the restaurant open for me–what a gentleman. The waitress inside knew him by sight and said, “Hi, Ryan! Two?”

“Yep, for me and my little Sis,” he said cheerfully.

“Right this way.” She threaded her way through close-packed tables to a booth and handed us a couple of menus. “Connie will be your server. She’ll be right with you.”

I slid into the booth, but Ryan said, “I’m going to the can. If the waitress comes, I want a large root beer to drink. I’ll be back before she takes our food order.” He made his way to the restrooms, off to the left, and I looked through the menu. It had some kinda exotic burgers–beefalo and buffalo and ostrich, even! Connie came and I asked for two large root beers and a little more time to think. She had hardly left the table before Ryan slipped into place across from me. “Here before I forget it,” he said, handing me my phone. “Thanks.”

“That’s okay.” I took the phone from him and slipped it into its holster on my belt. “What’s good to–good to–what’s–?”

I didn’t know what it was, but all at once I felt woozy. Not a bad woozy, like I was passing out or anything, but . . . buzzed, like the time my best friend Wendi and I had split a bottle of champagne left over from New Year’s. Floaty and giggly, sort of. I made an effort to focus. “What’s good here?”

“How hungry are you?”

“Not very.”

“Try the Junior Steakburger, then. You like lettuce and tomatoes and sweet pickles.”

“I–yeah, I do,” I said, though actually I didn’t have any strong feelings one way or the other about sweet pickles.

“You’ll like it. It’ll be the most delicious burger you ever tasted,” Ryan said.

“Okay, I’ll order that.”

Connie came back with our drinks, and Ryan placed the order, a Junior Steakburger for me and a Lumberjack for him. While we waited to be served, Ryan said, “So, Sis, you got a guy now, or what?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“But you’ve hooked up a few times, am I right?”

“Hooked up? You mean, like, slept with a guy? No,” I said.

“Aw, Sis! C’mon.”

“Really,” I said. “It just hasn’t happened.”

He cocked his head to one side like an inquisitive puppy. “No kidding? I don’t know why. I mean, you’ve got a really cute face. I like your strawberry-blonde hair. Your lips are good, your eyes are great. Maybe it’s your figure–”

“I don’t want to talk about my love life,” I said. “And this isn’t a nice subject of conversation, anyway.”

He grinned at me. “Are you what I used to call you? Lezzie?”

“No!” I squirmed, feeling embarrassed. “Guys in high school are just kinda–I dunno. None of them appeals to me.” I don’t know why I went on, except he had started it. “I guess you’ve screwed around a lot at college, huh?”

“Enough,” he said with a smile. “But really not until this year. I was always too dorky-looking before. This year, though–well, as I said, enough.”

“How are college girls?” I asked, wondering why in the world I wanted my annoying stepbrother to tell me about his sex life.

“Actually, it was mostly women teachers,” he said.

He almost made root beer squirt out my nose. “Come on!”

“No, I appeal to older women,” he said. “I’ve had, let me see. . . six women thirty or older.”

“That’s sick!”

“No, they’re great. Older women really get into a relationship. They know what it’s all about! But I do want to start working on hooking up with girls closer to my own age. Here’s our burgers!”

His Lumberjack was a monstrosity, probably half a pound of beef piled with pepper jack cheese, bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions, dripping with Thousand Island dressing. I would gain ten pounds if I ate half of one of those things. My Junior Steakburger was much smaller, though. I took a bite of it and swayed in my seat. “Mmmmm!”

“Is that the best hamburger you ever tasted?”

“Oh, yeahhhhhh!” It was like an orgasm on a bun! I’d never eaten anything so delicious.

“Told you.”

We didn’t talk for a few minutes. Every bite of the hamburger gave me a rush. It was weird! I’m usually not that much of a burger person, really, but this–this was way, way beyond delicious.

After Ryan finished his huge burger and paid, we went back out to the car. By that time I was feeling really good, like the champagne buzz had intensified. I settled into the seat with a satisfied sigh.

Back on the highway, Ryan said, “Yep, older women are great lovers.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. But immediately I asked, “How are their figures?”

“All of them busty. I like a big bust on a woman. Gives me something to hang onto, you know?” He glanced sideways at me. “You haven’t filled out much.”

“No,” I said. I was, by a little stretch of the imagination, a B-cup, no more. Wendi was at least a C. I was starting to think I’d never get real boobs.

“I could help if you’d like, you know, to be a little bigger up there.”

“I bet you could!”

“No, really. Look at me. I’m in great shape now. It’s a process I call mind/body molding.” He lowered his voice and playfully said, “You should see my dick!”

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. But my ladies say it’s a thing of beauty. Anyway, I could help your breasts develop. But you don’t believe me, so forget it.”

“That’s what I say.”

“But it would only take a few days.”

“Huh.”

“I’m not kidding, Sis.”

“Yeah, right.” Then I couldn’t resist: “How does this work?”

“Well, you know a little physics, right? How everything is made of atoms, which clump together in molecules, and so on and so forth? You know atoms are mostly just empty space and electrical charges?”

“I guess.” We’d had that stuff in science, but I didn’t remember much.

“Well, I’ve worked out a system that allows you to control the matter that makes up your body. To a certain extent, anyhow. I mean, I couldn’t make myself nine feet tall or anything like that–you work with what you have. But I was able to start eating more and to discipline my body so that it didn’t make fat out of the food, but muscle–and other things.” He grinned. “You just have to concentrate on what you’re doing. I could show you.”

“And it happens just by magic.”

“Not quite. This unit that I’m wearing on my belt is the gizmo that does it. It takes my thoughts and with a little direction from me, it forms my body in the ways I want. I can give you a unit, too. In fact, look in the glove compartment.”

I opened it up. There was a small pile of the rectangular objects inside. They looked a lot like music players. Each one had a socket for a mini-USB and a blank gray screen. “These things?”

“Right. Take the pink one. Pink’s your color, right?”

I fumbled around and found the pink one. It was super thin–it couldn’t have been any smaller and still contain the USB socket on the side. “Plug it in and charge it up,” Ryan said.

“Okay.” I plugged it into the charger. Pink light began to flicker over the surface of the screen, a pattern like a flower folding in on itself. “Now what?”

“Just let it charge. Later on, when you’re alone, keep it close to you–within about three feet. Massage your breasts and think about them growing to a size you’d like. It’ll feel good, believe me. It will feel so damn good!”

“I don’t for a minute think this will work.”

He shrugged. “You’ll try it, though.”

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “I’ll try it.”

I wish I could tell you what we talked about on the four-hour drive home. I honestly can’t remember. That must be because Ryan told me to forget everything, though I don’t remember that either–but now I know how he operates, of course. We pulled into the drive just about sunset, and I saw that Tom had unloaded the van already. He met us at the front door. “Hi, you two,” he said. “I was just about to call the cops to send out a search party. I’m going to return the rental van. Ryan, you want to come with and give me a lift back home?”

“Sure, Dad. Let me just get something from my car.” He ducked back into his battered GT for a second, then said, “Hey, while we’re out, why don’t we pick up some Chinese so Mom won’t have to cook tonight?”

“Great idea,” Tom told him. “Beth, go see what your mom would like.”

I didn’t have to go, really, because Mom always wanted the same thing when we ate Chinese, mu goo gai pan with steamed rice. I asked for Szechuan beef with vegetables, and while the guys were gone, Mom and I brewed some fresh hot tea. “Your brother has really blossomed at college,” Mom told me.

“Yeah,” I said. “He’s really different now.”

“Some girl is going to snatch him right up soon,” she said.

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

Tom made fun of me at dinner because I ate so voraciously. I don’t know why, but I was starved! My only regret was that the Chinese food, though good, was not as super-tasty as that hamburger. It had been a long day, and I decided to turn in early. Ryan’s and my bedrooms were upstairs, and we shared a bathroom between us. Now, at the top of the stair you could turn left and go straight into Ryan’s room, or right and go straight into the bathroom, or take another right at the bathroom door and go into my bedroom, which was the larger of the two. On the landing at the top there was a mission table beneath an ornate round antique mirror, and on the table there was a candelabrum with three tall white candles standing in it. I’d never seen them lit. In fact, I just took them for granted. They, or others just like them, had been there ever since I’d lived in the house. I’m just saying.

Anyhow, upstairs I brushed my teeth, got into my jammies, and was just turning down the covers when Ryan knocked on the door. “Got something for you,” he said, running his eyes up and down my pink jammies with amusement. He handed me a charging cord. “Plug the gizmo I gave you into this and set it up on your bedside table, close to your pillow. Then just do the massage and see what happens.”

“Ryan–”

He raised his hands as if surrendering. “Just try it, Sis. What can it hurt?”

He closed the door behind him and I thought, What could it hurt? I plugged the little device in and balanced it on its thin side and the cord, so the little screen faced my bed. I turned out the lights and watched the pink blobs folding in and in on themselves. It gave me that pleasant buzzy feeling again.

Oh, well, what the hell. In the dark, I pulled my jammie top up to my shoulders and lay on my back, running my hands over my breasts. They didn’t tingle or anything, though rubbing my palms over my nipples got me turned on a little. I stroked and stroked, and my breasts stayed just the same, little rounded mounds like cupcakes made with too little batter. I kept at it for maybe half an hour before drifting off to sleep, still as flat as ever. Then I had . . . weird dreams. I know they were kinda sexy and strange, but I can’t remember them. No matter how weird they were, though, they couldn’t measure up to the strangeness that was about to break out in my real life.

2

3

Not much changed over the next couple of days. I totally liked the new kind of massage that Ryan had taught me, liked it so much that I did it three or four times a day, even though nothing seemed to be happening with the size of my breasts. But those massages really made me horny! So I did a lot of slippery-finger playing with my pussy, too. It was strange, but up to that week I’d masturbated maybe once a week or so, usually after seeing a hot guy in a movie or reading a sexy scene in a book or something like that. Now I seemed to need to do it every day, and sometimes several times a day. But it was summer vacation, and I didn’t have a whole lot to do, so who was it hurting, right? On Thursday morning I was out in the fenced backyard, floating around lazily in the pool, sipping at a glass of orange juice and just chilling, when I heard a familiar voice faintly call, “Okay, bye.”

It came from out front. I paddled my inflatable pool float over to the side, set down my glass and climbed out, and hurried around the side of the house. Wendi was just about to get into her cute, shiny-red new Cabriolet convertible, parked at the curb in front of our house. “Hey,” I called. “Here I am!”

My trim black-haired friend stopped with her hand on the handle of the driver’s side door and looked up, her sapphire-blue eyes startled. “Oh! Uh. Hi, Beth,” she said. Her voice sounded uncertain. I thought her smile looked a bit off, too, a little embarrassed, a little guilty.

“What’s up?” I asked, suddenly aware that I was standing on my front lawn in my green plaid two-piece. It’s not like we live in a crowded housing development or anything, the nearest neighbors are like a quarter of a mile away on either side, but still, anyone passing by could see me, and my Mom wasn’t real big on girls displaying their bodies, as she put it. I dismissed that from my mind, though, and asked Wendi, “Didn’t you come to see me?”

She blushed. “No, I came over because I wanted to, to uh, ask Ryan something,” she said. “I really have to go. Catch you later!” Then she got into her car and buzzed away down the street, leaving me feeling hurt and ticked off. What right had she to come over to see Ryan? He wasn’t her friend, I was! All of a sudden I didn’t feel like splashing around in the pool any longer. I went inside. It was just past eleven, and my mom was back to her morning hours, nine to one at the library. Ryan was somewhere inside. We were alone in the house.

I found him in the kitchen, chowing down on a big sloppy BLT sandwich. “What’s the deal with Wendi?” I demanded.

“What deal?” he asked in a food-muffled voice.

“Why’s she all of a sudden coming over to visit you?”

He shrugged and looked innocently indifferent. “She just wanted my help with a little problem, that’s all. It’s cool, Sis. Hey, do me a favor and clean up my mess?”

“Sure,” I said, though I really should have been royally pissed at him for going behind my back to call Wendi over. I started to scrape tomato seeds off the cutting board and into the garbage, then ran hot water in the sink so I could wash that and the plate, glass, and utensils that Ryan had messed up. Why am I doing this? I wondered. I’m not my stepbrother’s slave! But it just seemed reasonable to do what he had asked me to do and not make a fuss about it. It was almost a pleasure to help him out, and I felt good as I dipped my hands into the hot suds to clean the glass and dishes he had dirtied. He was so nice to let me do it, when he could have easily done it himself and not given me the opportunity to serve him. All the time as I dried the dishes and put them away, some little part of my mind was taunting me: What is wrong with this picture?

“How are your boobs?”

“How do they look?” I growled, reaching way down deep to find a little sisterly resentment. “Nothing’s happening!”

“I told you you’d have to give it time. It may take a few days or even a week. You’re gonna be real surprised. I guarantee it. Just keep up what you’re doing. In fact, why don’t you go do your massage right now? You know you ought to go and do it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I’d better.” Down deep I still felt like yelling at my pesky, know-it-all stepbrother, but my resentments didn’t seem very important at the moment. What did seem important was getting my hands on my tits again. Weird. I went slowly up the stairs on legs that were almost numb. What was going on with me, I wondered as I turned right at the mission table and headed for my room.

Anyway, I went into my bedroom, closed the door, shed my top, lay back on my bed, and started doing the massage. It felt yummy. Just as I’d known I would, I started to get wet between my legs. Soon I was pinching and pulling my own nipples, willing them to drag my boobs out into a bigger shape and really getting into the nearly painful pleasure. In the middle of all this, Ryan tapped on my door. I stopped what I was doing, breathing hard. “Yeah?” I gasped.

“Sis, I’m going into town for a few hours. Want anything?”

Yes! A cock, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. It was bad enough that I’d already let Ryan touch my breasts. I wasn’t about to invite him to make love to me! I mean, he wasn’t really my brother, but it still felt. . . wrong. “I’m good, thanks,” I called back, my voice sort of quavery. I heard him go down the stairs and a moment later the door opened and closed. I glanced at the clock. Twelve-oh-seven. Mom would be back in about an hour and a half. Plenty of time. I got out of my damp swimsuit bottom and lay back on my bed, spreading my legs wide. I started to play with myself in my favorite way, with my forefinger and ring finger spreading the pouty tender lips of my slippery slit and my crooked middle finger slipping up and down in my flowing juices until it was delightfully slick. Then I began to move the tip of my middle finger around and around in a circle at just the right spot, pressing and teasing my sensitive clit until it swelled up, throbbing, inside its little hood. That usually got me off pretty quickly, but this time I felt myself building and building but not able to make it. A cock. I really, really needed a cock.

I don’t know why that kept running through my mind. I’d never had anyone or anything, you know, really inside me. Not deep inside, nothing other than a fingertip, I mean. In my need, I suddenly thought of the candles standing outside on the table at the top of the stairs.

I slipped off my bed and went naked onto the landing. In the drawer of the mission table was a half-full box of white twelve-inch tapers, and I got one and used my teeth to peel the plastic wrap off it. Back in my room I sprawled on the bed and put the blunt end of the candle up against my aching, hungry slit. I rubbed it up and down, getting it good and wet, and then tentatively pushed it inside me. It felt fucking wonderful. No wonder some of the slutty girls at school gossiped about the boys and their springy, hard cocks! Fantasizing like crazy, I started slowly to push just the end of the candle in and out of me and groaned, “Ohhh, God!”

I’d just meant to ease it into me, but right away I knew I needed more. And I knew it might make me bleed. Reluctantly, almost frantically, I pulled the candle out of my cunny and jumped out of bed to grab a big soft towel. Threw it across my bed. Lay back with the towel under my ass and picked up the candle again. With the fingers of my left hand I spread my pussy open and with my right I pressed the candle inside me. I really started to stroke myself with it, in and out. It occurred to me that if I bent my knee I could take care of things more easily, so I did, pulling my right knee up so that the top of my thigh brushed my tiny tit. I reached my hand around behind my ass and started to pump the candle in and out, in and out, while I played with my clit with my left hand. My hips started to thrust as if they had a mind of their own! The heat spread from my clit and my pussy and rose up through my quivering stomach and into my heaving chest, driving me absolutely crazy. Suddenly and involuntarily I pushed down hard and pressed in hard at the same time, and I felt something inside me tear. I’d just deflowered myself!

It hurt for a second, but the pain was nothing to the throbbing waves of pleasure I was feeling. “Oh, yeah,” I groaned, pumping my pussy even harder, reveling in the squishy, smacky sounds I was making. I imagined that the candle was a stiff cock slipping in and out, in and out. Then I gasped as the most fabulous orgasm shook me! I jerked and thrashed on the bed, lifting my ass way way up and feeling my pussy muscles clench so tight on the candle that for a moment I wondered what would happen if it got stuck? I’d have a sort of waxy dick sticking out of me, complete with a wick! A real hot cock! That made me giggle even as the waves of my orgasm rocked me again. I was a shuddering mess! I couldn’t even breathe!

“Ohhhh....”

The indescribable feeling faded slowly, slowly. I pulled the candle out and rubbed my fingers up and down my slit. They came away bloody.

The towel had soaked up what blood there was–just a little trickle, not nearly as much as I’d thought there would be–and I took it into the bathroom and rinsed it clean in the sink before getting into the shower. We had a handheld showerhead, and I pulled it down and set it on massage and directed the pulsating warm water at my pussy. The water ran down my legs and swirled into the drain pink for a few minutes, then cleared up, and I soaped up real good and gave myself another orgasm standing there in the shower! The pain had gone away completely, as if I’d magically healed. I felt ready for another round already. “I’m turning into a sex maniac,” I muttered to myself as I got out of the tub and toweled dry. I wrung out the wet towel, the one that had soaked up my virgin blood, and then took it into my room and hung it on a hook in my walk-in closet, hoping it would dry there without mildewing. Still naked, I padded back to the bathroom and stood at the sink, studying my boobs in the mirror. Still little cupcakes with tiny pink cherries on the top, that was all. Damn it. I’d have to ask Ryan what I was doing wrong, maybe get him to give me another lesson in massage. I started breathing hard as I imagined his hot hands working at my breasts, his leering face looking over my shoulder and into the mirror, his cock pressing against my ass.

No. What the hell was I thinking? That was practically incest!

But no matter how hard I scolded myself, I started to get horny all over again. What was the matter with me? I couldn’t keep this up, I just couldn’t. What I needed was some kind of distraction, I decided, so I went back to my room and hurriedly got dressed and called Wendi. “What’re you up to?” I asked her.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just hanging around the house getting bored, is all.”

“Want to go to the mall? We could catch a movie this afternoon.”

“Sure,” she said. “Want me to pick you up?”

“I want to drive my car for a change. I’ll be over in half an hour or so.”

So I left a note for Mom, telling her where I was going, and then got ready. Before leaving, I thought to check my cell phone. I hadn’t charged it up in a couple of days, but the battery meter still showed a full charge. Cool.

I drove over to Wendi’s in my VW Beetle, my graduation present, and we went to the mall, where we shopped for shoes and junk, not really buying anything but trying on cute tops and just looking around. We went into Elaborate, a store that we normally didn’t frequent because it catered to, well, you know, skanky girls. They sold stuff like sexy tees and stretch shorts that looked painted on, and they had a shoe department, too. “We don’t want these,” I said, looking over the glitzy gladiator sandals and spiked heels.

“No, I need a pair of fuck-me shoes,” Wendi said to my surprise. She never, never talked dirty!

“What?” I giggled. “What did you say?”

“Fuck-me shoes,” she said as if that was nothing to be surprised about. “I think maybe four-inch spikes to start with? I’ve never worn them, but I think Ryan would like them.”

That hit me like an electric shock. “Come on! You’re not hanging with my brother, are you?”

“No,” Wendi said, her tone oddly wistful. “But if it makes him happy to see me in them, why not get a special pair of shoes?” She tried on some black patent spike-heeled boots and tottered around a little. “Does this make my ass work nice?” she asked, walking away from me and looking back over her shoulder at me.

And despite myself, I stared at her rear end, appreciating the way her muscles clenched and relaxed–so round! I could just imagine what she would look like wearing nothing but those boots, or even better thigh-highs–no! I shouldn’t be thinking that. Desperately, I gasped, “Let’s get out of here!”

I dragged a protesting Wendi out of the store. We sat in the food court at a table apart from anyone else and with my face burning, I asked her straight out: “Are you fucking Ryan?”

Wendi turned bright red. “No! God, no! What a thing to ask me!”

“You sure act like you want to,” I grumbled.

“No, I’m–I’m like you, you know, a virgin.”

Not any more, I thought smugly, though of course I was a virgin in the real sense, the never-let-a-guy-get-lucky sense. Just not technically any more. But aloud I said, “You never wanted, you know, that kind of shoes before.”

“You’re right,” Wendi confessed. “But Ryan said he liked the way my butt looks when I’m walking and that if I wore heels it would be even better, and he’s such a great guy, you know, it seems like such a simple thing to do to make him happy.”

“Well, yeah, I guess he deserves to be happy,” I said. Then an unsettling thought crossed my mind. “Hey, let me ask you: Did Ryan give you something recently? It looks like a little .mp3 player, but it has a screen with pink blobs of color on it?”

“No,” Wendi said. She stared down at the table. “It has beautiful gold blobs of color,” she almost whispered. “It’s so nice. I keep it by my bed.”

The strangest feeling swept over me. I wanted to jump up, grab Wendi, and run right out of that mall screaming, but instead I just sort of relaxed and heard myself saying cheerfully, “Yeah, that’s the best place for it. Keep it where it will be close to you all night.”

“Yeah,” Wendi agreed. “That’s the best.”

Somehow the subject simply didn’t seem worth talking about any more. We walked through a few more stores, just looking but not buying, and then we went to see a romantic movie, one where an English actor charmed his way into a gorgeous American girl’s heart and they had a horrendous misunderstanding, and he almost married this scheming English girl, yada yada, you already know how it turns out. After the movie we had some pizza in the food court, we shopped a little more, and it was dark. I drove Wendi back home. As she got out of my Beetle, she said, “Tell Ryan that I returned it to Mom. He’ll know what I mean.”

On the short drive back to my house, I puzzled over what she had said. Wendi’s mom was a plump, pleasant woman a few years older than Mom, maybe about forty or so, who worked in the Trust National Bank as head loan officer or something. Wendi’s dad had divorced her mom, but unlike my not-so-wonderful father, Wendi’s dad hadn’t pulled a vanishing act or ditched his wife and daughter. He lived somewhere out in California, but he kept in touch and sent like eight or ten thousand dollars of support money every month to Wendi and her mom, so they weren’t hurting for money. Not that we were, but both my car and Ryan’s car were old and used when we got them, and Wendi’s Cabrio was straight off the showroom floor. What had she returned to her mom, and why would Ryan want to know about it?

When I got back, Mom and Ryan were watching TV in the downstairs den. I checked in and gave Ryan his message, and he just nodded absently. “You’d better go to bed, you look tired,” he said.

I had not felt at all tired until he said that, but immediately I started to yawn uncontrollably. I stumbled up the stairs and into my room. I undressed, more or less, randomly dropping my clothes on the floor and simply fell into my bed wearing just my panties. I don’t even remember my head hitting the pillow. I was instantly asleep, all at once.

And dreaming again. . . .

4

It was so frustrating! I was creeping naked on all fours in a foggy place on a yielding surface, and I wanted that cock so bad! But it would not stay still! If I lay on my back and was quiet, I’d feel it stroking my boobs, all cool, stony-hard, and ready. When I reached for it, though, it danced away from me. Then it would be back, touching my cheek, and I could even turn my head and plant a little kiss on the marble-like tip, but when I tried to grasp the shaft, my hand closed on nothing. I wanted that hard prick deep inside me, damn it!

I woke up whimpering. My bedside clock said it was just past midnight. Yeah, right, the witching hour. My whole body was slick with sweat, and my panties felt drenched. Oh, and I hadn’t done the damn boob massage. So I started to knead and press and pull and tweak and pinch, knowing I was going to have to get that candle out of the drawer where I’d hidden it for emergencies. I squeezed and rolled my hands just like Ryan had showed me, wondering if he went back to his room right after that and had a laugh at my expense. He was so . . . so . . . .such a smart-ass . . . unhhh . . . he . . . unnh!

My breath was coming fast. Something different was happening: my breasts were tingling. It felt as if they were all nipple, all erectile tissue, and they were getting excited. And I was certainly getting excited! Well . . . more excited.

I swung my legs off the mattress and sat up on the edge of the bed, but I couldn’t stop playing with my tits. It was like I had become addicted. They felt so tingly. And I had that pleasant vertigo in my head again, too, the champagne buzz. I was really gasping for breath.

Then–I don’t know how to describe it–my hands were full! Both of my boobs just . . . just inflated! My head spun–the nipples had suddenly swollen a lot larger than they ever had before, and they were so sensitive! My D-cups overflowed!

I jumped out of bed and turned on the light and looked at myself. Wow! I had tits! Spectacular boobs that bounced enticingly on my chest as I moved! What did they look like to someone else? I had to find out!

Without even putting on a robe, I dashed out of my room and into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. I stood and gazed wonderingly at my reflection in the mirror. I stood with my shoulders back. I looked like a porn star! My big breasts swelled out proudly, the engorged nipples a deep, deep pink, jutting out lewdly like a couple of thumbs. It had worked–it had finally worked!

Moving quickly but quietly, barefoot, of course, I hurried to Ryan’s room and opened the door without knocking. “Ryan!” I whispered. “Look at me!”

But when I clicked the light on, I saw that his bed hadn’t been slept in. Where was he?

Out on the landing I paused. I heard noises downstairs. Maybe Ryan was still watching TV. Mom wouldn’t be–she got up early and was always in bed by ten. Boldly, half naked, I padded quietly down the stairs. The sounds were coming from the living room, not the den. I walked through the doorway–and stopped in shock.

It was June and there was no fire in the fireplace, of course, but on the big, shaggy rug in front of the hearth my Mom was on her hands and knees. And stark naked. And Ryan was behind her, fucking her! A small, pink-shaded lamp gave a glow to everything, to their gleaming flesh, to her swinging breasts, to her gyrating hips. Ryan leered at me and winked.

“Mom!” I croaked.

Mom looked up, her face registering only pleasure at seeing me there. “Beth, honey! Look at your beautiful breasts! Did Ryan give those to you?”

“Tell her,” Ryan said. He was really pounding his dick into my mother, his thighs slapping against her ass cheeks with a smack at every stroke.

“Yes, Mom,” I said. “Ryan gave me these.”

“Oh, he’s such a good brother!” Mom moaned, not missing a stroke. “You’ll like fucking him so much! He’s got a wonderful cock, Beth, much thicker and longer than Tom’s!” She writhed. “Oh, God, Ryan, I’m going to cum again!”

I saw her buck and jerk and heard her moan. Then Ryan pulled out of her. His cock was enormous! It was going soft, but it shone with his cum, and he trailed a long silvery string of it from Mom’s pussy.

Mom collapsed onto the hearth rug, her breasts on the floor and her ass still high in the air, with a satisfied sigh. Then she pushed herself up again. I couldn’t help staring at her tits. They were . . . young! “Come here, baby,” she said to me as she rose up to a kneeling position.

I walked over to her on stiff legs. She stood up, and I saw runlets of Ryan’s thick white cum dripping down the insides of her thighs. She smiled and said, “They look so good on you, baby! Let me feel them.”

My own mother began to stroke and play with my titties. I gasped. I still wasn’t used to the new, sensitive nipples, and her soft, loving touch sent waves of ecstasy through me. “Mm,” she said. “These are so pretty! See what Ryan did for me? He tightened and toned mine up!” She hugged me to her, pressing her sweat-slippery breasts tight against mine. Ryan had settled back into an armchair and he sat smiling benignly at us. I felt Mom’s hands exploring my ass cheeks, pressing, feeling their pliancy. She looked over her shoulder. “Oh, Ryan, she’s got such a nice butt! Can you make mine this firm again?”

“Sure, Mom. But your ass is great, anyway, and I’m not gonna make it any smaller. Still, if you’d like it to be a little harder–”

“I would.” She turned back to me and stroked my cheek with one hand, my ass with the other. She slipped her lower hand inside my panties and I felt her fingers explore their way down the crack of my ass. I felt her lust-sharpened nipples pushing against mine. “You’re going to be such a good little fucktoy for your brother,” Mom said, and then she kissed me. I don’t mean a motherly peck on the cheek, either. She kissed me open-mouthed, and somehow I kissed her back, and she took my tongue into her mouth and sucked on it! And somehow I started to get really, really turned on. My hands found her tits and fondled them.

“Aren’t they nice?” she murmured. “They were already pretty big, but Ryan’s made them so perky, so sensitive. Mm. I want to taste yours.”

And I really wanted her to. I pulled away a little and bent back, and Mom nuzzled my breasts. I felt her lips suck on one of my nipples and felt her tongue polishing it. “Ryan,” I groaned as the room spun around and around. “This is–this is wrong!”

“You’re right, Sis,” Ryan said seriously. “You should please your Mom first. Mom, lie back in the lounger. Sis, make Mom feel really good.”

“I–yes,” I muttered, my head spinning. “I want to–I want to do her.” I felt so hot. So drunk.

Smiling in anticipation, Mom did as Ryan told her, lying back with her legs raised, knees bent and spread. I knelt beside the chair and stroked her tits, then suckled one. The nipple was so springy! “That’s it,” murmured Mom. “That’s my sweet baby. Oh, yes. Use your tongue! Suck it hard!”

My fingers were busy at her sticky pussy. “I want–” I began pleadingly.

“You want to eat her out,” Ryan said. “You want to see what cum tastes like.”

“No . . . yes.” Yes, of course I did. That was what I wanted, that was all I wanted!

I glided my lips down over the swell of her belly, thrust my pointed writhing tongue into her navel, and she sat up for me. She put the crooks of her knees on my shoulders, and I bent down, dizzy with the scent of her musk mingled with that of my stepbrother’s cum. My trembling tongue parted her pink folds–“Oh!” I said. “You shaved your pussy!”

Mom laughed. “Not exactly. Mmm, yes, lower, darling. Oh, you’re so sweet!”

I was lapping her smooth love-mound and thinking how cute it was. I almost wished that I had shaved, too. Then I noticed Ryan. He had his big dick in his hand and was stroking it slowly, lazily, as he watched us. Something jerked inside me.

“Ryan, don’t make us do this,” I moaned, looking up at him pleadingly, with his cum and Mom’s juices cooling on my cheeks and chin. “Please don’t! This is wrong. She’s my mother!”

Ryan shrugged. “But Mom wants you to do it, Sis,” he said. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you? You always do what Mom wants.”

“Yesss,” I groaned. That was . . . yes, of course, if Mom wanted me to . . . and it was so good, she was so tasty. . . .

“Tell her, Mom.”

Mom stroked my hair. “It’s all right, darling. I want you to lick my pussy and suck out your brother’s juices. He’s really delicious–you’ll see! Be a good girl and lick me.”

With a muffled moan, I bent my head down and began to lap at the folds of her labia. She was right–Ryan’s cum was delectable, strangely spicy, almost sweet. Once I got a good taste of it, all thoughts of resistance went right out of my head. I scooped up drops of it on my tongue and gratefully swallowed. I licked her hot slit and plunged my tongue as far into her as I could, thinking how strange it was that I had come into the world through that very opening and now I was putting a tiny, hot piece of myself back inside it! Mom’s clit was big, as big as a marble, pink and pearly and poking out of its reddish hood as if begging for my attention. I sucked on it and swirled my tongue around and around and around as Mom squirmed and gasped, “That’s it, Beth! Oh, that’s fantastic! I’ve never felt so good! Nobody’s ever eaten me out like this! Please, stick your fingers inside me! Pump me! Oh, Ryan, she’s so good! You’re a lucky boy to have such a beautiful, talented sister!”

A second before I had felt demeaned–excited, yes, and horny as all hell, but demeaned, degraded. When Mom spoke those words of praise, I just glowed. I wanted to make her cum so badly! My fingers were in her pussy now, and I was exciting her with slow, teasing strokes, making a wonderful squishy sound. Her pussy was fragrant, almost like lilac, and she tasted great, creamy with the remnants of Ryan’s cum. I peeked up impishly and saw that she was playing with her own tits, massaging hers the way I had mine, and squeezing and pulling at her big pretty nipples! I loved that. She smiled down at me, and I playfully sucked her clit into my mouth, held it between my lips, and gave it a good swiping with my pointed tongue. She shuddered and bucked, and I knew I had made her cum! For a few seconds she couldn’t even talk. She reached down and stroked my hair. “Ohh. Oh, that was. . . was so wonderful! Oh, thank you, darling! When Ryan gives me permission, I’ll return the favor! Oh, I love you so!”

I was so proud of myself at that moment! I looked at Ryan for his approval. He was still indolently fondling his erect penis. He said softly, “Later, Mom. Right now you need to go to bed. You’re all worn out and sleepy and you want to wake up refreshed and full of energy tomorrow.”

“Yes.” Mom yawned, then rose, reached over and lovingly caressed the big purple head of my stepbrother’s dick, and said, “You two have fun. Beth, obey your brother!”

She drifted naked out of the living room, toward her bedroom–the bedroom she shared with Tom, Ryan’s dad! “Ryan,” I said, standing up and crossing my arms over my big new boobs, “stop it! Your dad will kill you when he gets home!”

“No he won’t,” Ryan said indulgently. “By the time Dad gets back, he’ll think it’s normal to share his wife with his son, he’ll even be grateful to me for keeping her happy while he’s away from home. And he’ll believe that all good sisters are the devoted sex slaves of their brothers! Mom already thinks so. You heard her.”

“How are you doing this to us?” I asked.

“Through cell phones and mental routers,” he said.

“Huh?”

He got up, his big erection bobbing. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Ryan took my elbow and steered me through the house, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. “Sit on the bed,” he said, and I obediently did. My arms were down again, my breasts exposed. Why should I hide my wonderful new tits from him? They were his, after all–and he had let me have them. I couldn’t think straight.

He rummaged in my purse and took out my pink cell phone. “Here, I’ll show you,” he said, and popped off the back. Inside it looked the way it always did, as far as I could remember–except that, just above the battery compartment, there was a strip of gray tape-like material, and on it pink blobs were quivering. “See?” he asked. “This is a miniature version of the mental router on your bedside stand. It’s slaved to mine, and to my computers–just the way your mind is now slaved to mine.”

I felt a flicker of–fear? Anticipation? Surrender? “Huh?”

He reached out and caressed my right boob. I instantly leaned back and arched my shoulders to give him better access. His touch was like being brushed with electricity. “This and the device on your table there are attuned to your brainwaves,” Ryan explained patiently as he pinched my nipple. “At first they just mirrored your thinking and habit patterns. Then when they got in perfect sync with you, I could change them, and then you would change, too–now the devices create the reality instead of reflecting it, and your body and mind go along with it, not vice-versa. In fact, as you can easily see, I can control your whole being. Your body is just a kind of cloud of atoms, after all, and making your tits really big and succulent and sensitive is no great trick once everything is synced up.”

“But–but–Mom–”

“Older women are the easiest of all,” Ryan said patiently. “Look, my master device can directly affect more than half of all women over thirty, even if they don’t have a receiver implanted in their cell phones or beside their bed at night. True, without the receivers I can’t very easily adapt their bodies–that’s why I gave Mom a mental router, just as I gave you one–but with very little effort I can control the way they think and act. I don’t exactly know why–I think it has something to do with their sexual experiences. Makes it easy to give them a hunger, an edge, you know, and when that little wedge of consciousness opens up, their whole minds open up, too, and pretty soon I can make them think and do anything. Guys are different–I can change their minds and make them think any way I want them to, more or less, because guys think about sex a lot. Of course, I’m not gay, so I don’t care anything about changing their bodies, but men’s minds are the easiest of all to manipulate. Even with my earliest devices all my male professors gave me straight A’s! Anyway, I gave Dad a phone strip that was preprogrammed to change his perceptions and opinions and feelings. When he comes back, he’ll be proud that my little Sis is sucking and fucking me! And he’ll be honored if now and then I fuck Mom.”

“Ryan, I don’t want–”

“Girls our age are much tougher,” Ryan went on thoughtfully, completely ignoring my weak objections. “Virgins the toughest of all. A big challenge, in fact. Tell me the truth now: are you a virgin?”

“Sort of,” I heard myself say, and before I knew it, I had explained all about using the candle as a dildo.

Ryan laughed at that. “Candles don’t count. I’ll give you something better,” he said, and he yawned. “But not tonight. I want you to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow happy and upbeat. I’m going to take you shopping.”

“Sh-shopping? For what?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “Go to sleep now.”

And because my master had ordered me to do it, I had to do it. Even though all night long those sexy dreams about the elusive penis filled my head and made me yearn and sweat.

5

We all had breakfast together the next day–so strange. Mom didn’t seem to remember a thing about what we had done together, or if she did, she simply took it all in stride. She wore a robe over nothing, not even tied at the waist, and it kept revealing her tits and pussy, and she was completely at ease with that as she made us a pancake breakfast with bright cheeriness. Then she was off to work. Ryan ignored me and goofed around with his computer for a while, but he told me to get ready to go shopping, so I showered and got dressed, though I had to go braless–I didn’t have any bras that would support my new boobs. It was okay, though, because they were so perky that they really didn’t need any support. I did find a red tee that was a little heavy for the early summer weather, though–I didn’t want just everyone staring at my proud new nipples!

We got in Ryan’s clunker of a car. To my surprise, he drove downtown first, to the main branch of the Trust National Bank of Glamis, a big Colonial brick building near the town center. We went into the bank, which had just opened. The air conditioning must have been running all night, because it was so cool inside that my nipples stiffened immediately. I glanced down and felt a blush spread over my face. Thick red fabric or not, my new breasts were leaving nothing to the imagination! Ryan led me to a little cubbyhole office, where a plump woman with graying black hair was working at a computer. “Hi, Mrs. Bunbury,” Ryan said in a jaunty way.

Oh, my God. We were going to see Wendi’s mom.

“Ryan!” She sounded pleased. “And Beth, too. How well you’re looking! Come in and sit down.”

We did, with me sort of hunching over, trying to hide my new assets. Mrs. Bunbury didn’t seem to notice. She positively twinkled at Ryan, and I remembered what he had told me: Older women were easy! “How can I help you?” she asked.

Ryan said, “Well, Mrs. Bunbury, I’m just out of college and I need a little money so I can take some time to sort of look around and decide what kind of a career I’d like. Could you arrange a loan?”

“How much, dear?”

Easily, casually, Ryan replied, “Oh, ten thousand would be a good start.”

It was crazy. Ryan didn’t have any collateral. I doubted if he had any credit history, except for the gas credit cards that he carried and that his dad paid for. But Mrs. Bunbury said, “Ten thousand dollars. Let me run and see what I can do.”

She was gone for a few minutes. As soon as we were alone, I whispered, “Ryan! What are you doing?”

“Just getting us some shopping money, Sis. Don’t worry. It’ll work out.”

“But she can’t loan you–”

“Don’t talk about it,” Ryan said with a wink, and immediately I couldn’t even bring up the subject. He chuckled. “Think about your new boobs,” he said. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yeah!” I said happily. “They’re so big and bouncy! And I love my new nipples. They’re really, really sensitive! I can get myself off just by pinching them.”

“That’s nice,” Ryan said. “Quiet now. She’s coming back.”

Obediently I shut up. Mrs. Ryan came in with a beaming smile and said, “The bank has several funds for charitable donations that I was able to tap. Here is three thousand from one of them. Here is five thousand from a second one. And I found a source for the last two thousand as well. Here you are, Ryan.” She counted the money out rapidly twice. It was all in hundreds.

“Thank you,” Ryan said. “And this isn’t a loan?”

She giggled girlishly. “Oh, heavens, no! The money is yours, and you don’t have to pay this back at all. It’s sort of a scholarship, I guess you’d say. Post-graduate studies.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said, scooping up the cash. It made quite a pile, a hundred hundred-dollar bills. He casually split off about a third of it and handed it to me. “Sis, put this in your purse. I’ll take care of the rest.” He had to divide that up into three wads, two in his jeans pockets and a third in his wallet, to cram it all in. He stood up, and I followed suit. “This is great, Mrs. Bunbury. You know, Wendi’s going to come and live in our house soon.”

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Bunbury beamed. “I hope she fucks you really well, Ryan!”

“I know she will,” Ryan said. He took my elbow and steered me out of the bank.

“Ryan,” I said, feeling stricken. “You’ve–you’ve enslaved Wendi’s mom!”

“Well, sure,” Ryan said, sounding surprised. “Wendi brought her mom’s cell phone over and let me adapt it days ago. Mrs. Bunbury is really susceptible now. But she doesn’t appeal to me, so she’s just going to be a source of cash.” He snickered. “And she’ll send Wendi over for us to play with when we’re ready.”

That made me sad and jealous. “Are you really going to–to fuck Wendi?” I couldn’t help sniffling at the thought he might like her better than he liked me.

“Sure I am,” he said. We were at the car, and he paused long enough to pinch both my nipples, he was so good to me. “But don’t worry, Sis, you’re going to fuck her, too.”

“But I’m not a lesbian!”

“You’re going to be bisexual, Sis! I won’t be able to fuck you all the time, so you deserve to have fun with the others.”

“The–the others?”

“I’m not going to stop with just you, Mom, and Wendi,” he said. “But don’t worry. You’re going to be my number one. That will make you happy.”

To prove it, he took me to a tattoo parlor. He explained to the man what he wanted, and the tattoo guy was glad to oblige. I lay face-down on a table, they pulled my shorts and panties way down, and the guy went to work at the base of my spine. It hurt, but when Ryan said it would make me more special to him, I even enjoyed the pain. When it was all over, I had a beautiful two-inch red heart right between the dimples at the top of the cleft of my ass, with a gold numeral 1 inside it and “Ryan” written in a curly script underneath. It made me feel so good to know that Ryan had branded me as his number-one girl!

I had to wear a big sort of Band-Aid thing over the tat, and from the tattoo parlor Ryan took me to the mall. Under his direction I bought all kinds of things that ordinarily I wouldn’t even think of. We were passing Elaborate when I grabbed Ryan’s arm and told him, “They’ve got sexy stuff in here. And fuck-me shoes, too!”

“What kind of shoes?” teased Ryan, a grin on his face.

“Fuck-me.”

“What did you say?”

“Fuck-me!”

“Say it three times.”

“Fuck me,” I said. “Fuck me,” I repeated. “Fuck me. . . please,” I begged.

“Later, Sis. Let’s take a look inside this store.”

We bought lots of stuff, four big shopping bags full, spending over a thousand dollars. Then Ryan drove me home. Inside, he told me how I was to dress from then on when we were home, whether Mom and Tom were there or not. Inside the house I could wear only a thong–we’d bought about a dozen of them–and I had either to go completely topless or else wear tight, tight thin tees that would let my boobs show through. Or I could wear some fetish-type stuff we had picked up: a feather boa, a pink latex tube top that when stretched out was scandalously transparent, a short, short white spangled vest that wouldn’t even meet to hide my nipples. He wanted me barefoot, too. I dressed up, or dressed down for him, and when I looked in the mirror I was so pleased with the results! My complexion was a lot better, and my new breasts were wonderful. Ryan had me strut around in various outfits for him, and then he played with my tits for a long time, massaging and licking and sucking them. “What kind of shoes?” he teased.

“Fuck me,” I gasped. “Oh, Ryan, please–fuck me!”

“Let’s get acquainted first.”

He stripped down and had me get naked, too. We were in the living room, where I had seen him screwing Mom. “Come and take a good look at my cock,” Ryan said.

My heart was pounding like mad. This was my dream, and it was coming true! He sat in the same chair my mother had been in the night before, and I sat adoringly at his feet. “Touch it,” he said, indicating his already-erect dick.

I ran my fingertips over it wonderingly. “Oh, Ryan! It’s not at all like I imagined! It has such a nice springy feel to it, not all hard and cold like marble. It’s hot! Oh, I love the texture of the head. It’s so smooth! Look, you’re leaking a little already!”

“That’s called precum,” Ryan said. “It sort of helps to lubricate things. Of course, it will go inside you a lot better if you lick it first.”

“May I?” I asked, feeling that he was giving me the best present ever.

“Be my guest.”

I knelt between his legs and began to lick and suck his cock. It was wonderful! It tasted just fantastic, manly and salty. After a few minutes of that, Ryan said, “Okay, girl, it’s time for your first fucking lesson. Stand up. Turn around so you’re facing away from me. Good. I want you to sit down on my cock. Grab it. That’s right. Slowly now. Spread your legs and open yourself up. Right, that’s good. Press the head of my cock into your slit. Take your time, that’s nice. Rub it around and around against your pussy, get it all wet and slick. Yes, that’s good. You’re really wet!”

“Unn-huh,” I groaned. His cock was massive! I really didn’t know if I could take it.

“Now settle down on it.”

I bent my knees, holding his cock carefully in place. It slipped slowly into me. I could hear myself whimpering in pleasure. “Is it–is it good for you?” I panted.

“Sis, it’s all good! Now, this position is one of my favorites. It’s called the Reverse Cowgirl, ‘cause you’re like riding me, see? Okay, I’m in now and you’re in control. Fuck me, Sis!”

“Oh, yes, Ryan!”

I tried to keep it slow because I wanted to make the wonderful feelings last. I would pull way, way up–God, his cock was huge, so fat and so long, it really stuffed me!–and then I’d sink down, grinding and gyrating as I did so. “Like my cock?” he asked me slyly.

“I love it, Ryan!”

“Fuck me faster now.”

I began to bounce, loving the incredible friction of that monster dick inside me. Ryan told me to play with my clit, and that just made it better! Soon my ass was slapping down against his thighs, and he was thumbing my butthole, making me strangely excited. In the middle of it all, Mom walked in. I felt a kind of shock, but I couldn’t stop fucking. I was conscious of my bouncing tits, of my pussy split way apart, of Ryan’s cock pistoning into me, but I couldn’t stop, not for a second!

She stood in the doorway smiling at us. “Well,” she said, “that is just a beautiful sight! I see my little girl is a woman now! Fuck him well, Beth. I don’t want Ryan complaining that you didn’t do everything he wanted!”

“I–I’ll fuck him great, Mom,” I gasped. Ryan playfully stuck his finger into my asshole right at that second, so I was like fucking him twice at the same time as I pressed and writhed.

“Oh, you look so sweet, with that great big cock of Ryan’s splitting your little pussy. But she’s still hairy down there, Ryan!”

“I’m taking care of that, Mom,” Ryan said. He took his finger out of my butt and then reached up and pulled me back, so I was lying against his chest, and he started to play with my tits with both hot hands. “She’s ready to cum, Mom. Want to finish her off with your tongue?”

“Sure.”

My own mother knelt in front of me, just where I’d knelt before her, and lowered her mouth to my well-stuffed cunt. Her soft, hot tongue flicked over my clit, and the world just exploded in wild, crazy ecstasy! I screamed and jerked and shuddered and damn near passed out, and then I felt Ryan’s cock throb and squirt steaming seed deep inside me, and I came again! When I stood up at last, thick streams of creamy white cum drooled from my pussy, and Mom caught them and licked them off her fingers. “It’s tasty,” she said, holding up two fingers. I sucked them clean, savoring the faint lilac aroma and taste, and Mom laughed. “You have to let her give you head,” she said to Ryan. “Beth will be so good at that! But young lady, I don’t want Ryan to complain that you spit his cum out! You have to swallow every last drop!”

“I will,” I promised her.

“Mom, we’re going to clean up,” Ryan said. “You make us all a nice lunch.”

“Yes, dear,” Mom said, heading for the kitchen.

As we climbed the stair, I felt another, weaker wave of shame and guilt. “Ryan,” I pleaded, “this isn’t right, forcing my own Mom to lick my clit!”

“Nonsense. I didn’t really make her do it, she simply wanted to. Believe me, Mom enjoyed it. And you loved it.”

“Well–yeah.”

“Besides, she was just paying back a favor. You two are going to be lovers, Sis. Mom is going to reverse-age. She’s going to seem younger and younger, and she’ll be horny a lot of the time. You’ll get used to it.”

“Okay,” I said cheerfully. I couldn’t not believe him, if you know what I mean.

We got in the shower together and Ryan got me all soapy. He caressed my pussy, and when he rinsed, all my curly strawberry-blonde pubic hair just washed away! “What did you do to me?” I asked.

“I simply reprogrammed your body, I’ve explained that to you already. You like Mom’s pussy, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s real cute.”

“And it tastes good, too.”

I licked my lips. “It does. It’s delicious.”

“And you wouldn’t want any nasty old pubic hairs in your mouth.”

“Ugh. No.”

“I feel the same way. I like your little pink pussy bare and soft, and now it will always be that way. And when I go down on you, I won’t get any of those crinkly old public hairs in my mouth.”

“Oh, Ryan! Are you really going to do that to me?”

“I really am.”

“Thank you,” I said, weeping a little with joy.

“Come on,” he said, leading me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. “I’ll give you a little sample right now.”

It was beyond wonderful. He smacked and licked and savored my pussy. “How do I taste?” I asked, hoping that I would taste as nice to him as his cum did to me.

“Like strawberries,” he said.

“No, really.”

In reply, he wriggled up and kissed me. His tongue was slippery with my juices, and when I sucked on it, to my surprise, I did taste just like strawberries! It was just another way he had altered my body.

That was such a wonderful day. After lunch, Mom and Ryan and I went out to the pool–our backyard had a tall privacy fence around it, thank God, because we were all naked–and we had a great little private orgy. Mom was so delighted over my new tattoo that Ryan promised her one, too. Mom was so great. Even when Ryan was fucking me, not her, she was right there advising me and showing me little ways to please my stepbrother. Best of all was when I learned to make my pussy ripple, gripping Ryan’s big thick shaft and milking it of all its hot cum. I lost count of my orgasms that day. And no more bad dreams the next night.

Because Ryan slept in my bed, and if I wanted to feel his cock, all I had to do was reach for it.

6

Saturday Ryan asked me, “Want to seduce Wendi?”

I shivered. “Sure,” I said, returning his evil grin. He had me call her and ask her–no, command her to come over. I did, and I got wetter and wetter as I waited for her, deliciously wicked thoughts making me all hot and horny. I didn’t have to wait long, because in a few minutes Wendi pulled her cute red convertible into our driveway and I met her at the front door.

She gasped at my outfit. It consisted of a pink thong and a couple of feathers in my hair. “Beth!” she said. “What are you doing? Oh my God! Your–your breasts! Did you have surgery or–no, you couldn’t have! What happened to you?”

“Ryan happened,” I told her happily, grabbing her hand and pulling her inside. As soon as I shut the door, I hugged her and kissed her on the mouth. She tried to pull away at first. “Mmphhh–what are you–mmmph!”

“Shh.” I caressed her face. “Ryan wants it this way.”

“He–he does?” She swallowed hard. “But I’m not gay! I don’t–I mean, I love you as a friend, but girls don’t, you know, turn me on!”

“They will,” I promised. “Come out to the pool.”

She followed me as if she were dazed or something. Ryan was beside the pool, lying on a big beach towel, wearing only sunglasses and tanning oil. Wendi stopped in her tracks. “Oh!”

Ryan turned his head and grinned at her. Even when it was limp, his cock was so impressive, a thick tube of manflesh drooped casually over his thigh. “Hi, Wendi!” he said cheerfully. “Beth, where are your manners? Make Wendi comfortable. Wendi, just stand still.”

“Okay.” My fingers shook a little as I unfastened her top and pulled it off her. Wendi was like paralyzed. She let me undress her as if she were a life-sized fashion doll. I unhooked her bra and let her tits out.

Ryan frowned. “Not big enough, I think. What do you think, Sis?”

I stood behind Wendi, who now stood there just in her shorts and sandals. “They ought to be nice big tits like mine,” I said. I reached around and started to massage Wendi’s breasts. “I’ll show you how to develop them, Wen. It starts like this.”

“Nn-no,” Wendi mewled, but I felt her pert nipples harden in response to my attentions. She leaned back against me. “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Ryan, I–I’ve got a boyfriend–”

“No, you haven’t,” Ryan assured her pleasantly. “You don’t love him.”

“Yes, I–yes, you’re right, he–Ryan!”

“You don’t feel anything for him. He’s nothing to you. You’ll call him and break up with him.”

“No. . . yes, I mean. Yes, of course I will–oh, Beth, that feels so great! How did you learn that? Mmm. Oh, that’s so good!”

I turned her around and kissed her, a good deep wet kiss. She tried to pull away only at first. Then her lips opened to me.

Ryan said, “Lots of tongue, girls. Kneel down so I can see.”

We both sank to our knees, our breasts pressed tight together. We pulled far enough apart so Ryan could clearly see our jousting tongues, licking and probing at each other. I stuck my tongue way, way out–Ryan’s idea, he had given me a tongue nearly twice as long as it used to be–and with little muffled cries Wendi sucked it as if it were a cock.

“Wendi,” Ryan said firmly, “You need to be completely naked. You too, Sis.”

Wendi let me strip off her shorts and panties. She had a big black thatch of pubic hair. “That’s got to go,” I said, tugging at it.

“Yep,” Ryan agreed.

Wendi still looked stunned. “Wh-what do you m-mean–?” She looked at me as I tugged off the thong and yipped in surprise. “Beth! You shaved your pussy!”

“Not quite,” I told her, grinning. “But it’s great! So cool and smooth–feel!”

Wendi swept her trembling fingers over my plump, bare love mound. “It’s nice,” she said, her voice all breathy and excited.

“And when you get your big new tits, you’ll be all smooth and soft and bare down there, too,” I assured her, running my fingers through her pubic patch. “We’ll have so much fun!”

“F-fun?“quavered Wendi.

“Tell her what you’re going to do to her, Wendi,” suggested Ryan.

“What? What I’m going to do to B-Beth? I’m not going to d-do anything . . . " Wendi shivered and licked her lips, and her blue, blue eyes got hot and lusty. “Not . . . not a thing . . . except I’ll suck her delicious clit and lick her asshole and make her cum and cum and cum!” Wendi’s sapphire eyes flew wide open, and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“See?” I teased. “I knew you’d get into the spirit of things! I’ll do the same to you. Only right now Ryan really, really needs to fuck you.”

“Huh?”

I led her over to Ryan. She came docilely along. I took her to an inflated float. “Get down on your hands and knees,” I said.

Wendi obeyed me as though she had no choice, and I had a quick flash of how great it was going to be, being Ryan’s number 1. I was going to have a ball from now on! I was so grateful to him for choosing me. I arranged Wendi, making her spread her legs. Then I took some suntan oil and really oiled up her little slit. She groaned and shivered, but she couldn’t move–I hadn’t given her permission to break the pose. Then I came around and knelt in front of her, leaning so that our faces were on a level with each other. “Okay,” I said. “Now Ryan is going to fuck you. It might hurt a little bit at first, but it’s going to be great, and you’re gonna cum like crazy! And from now on you’re gonna do what Ryan wants you to do.”

Ryan was stroking his dick, now erect and bobbing. “And when I’m not around, you’re going to do exactly what my Sis tells you to do,” he said genially. “Here we go.”

I watched Wendi’s face as Ryan slowly pressed his cock into her. She tried to hide it beneath a mask of fear and apprehension at first, but then she felt such joy, such abject adulation! She started to fuck him, slapping her ass back against him the same way my Mom had done. “Why am I doing this?” she asked me, gasping for air. “Oh, God, it’s so great, but–but why?”

I stroked her hair. “Because Ryan is our Master,” I explained. I kissed her.

When I pulled away, I saw joy and understanding on Wendi’s face. “Yes,” she gasped. “Our–our Master!”

I lay down on my back and slipped underneath her. I licked those beautiful bouncing, hanging tits, sucking the nipples and dreaming of the time, not far off, when they would be as big and bouncy and sensitive as mine. I worked my way down until my head lay right under her pussy, and I gazed up, entranced at how beautiful her little slit was with my stepbrother’s big cock impaling it. She had the prettiest little ring of bright pink flesh that clung to the big shaft as he pumped in and out. I saw there was no blood. “You’re not a virgin! I’ll bet you used a dildo!” I giggled.

“Ummm. . . no, my . . . mom’s . . . vibe!”

“I used a candle. Oh, Wendi, you look so pretty! I love how your pussy holds onto Ryan’s cock!”

I felt something. Wendi had leaned forward and down, and she was shyly nuzzling my slit! I felt her lips kiss me intimately, and then, first hesitantly, then with eager passion, her tongue began to flicker at my tender, sensitive folds. She caught on so fast! I spread my legs and enjoyed her nibbling and sucking and I reached up and fondled Ryan’s swinging balls and teased Wendi’s clit with my fingers until they both came and about a half cup of Ryan’s steaming, delicious cum spurted out of Wendi and plopped onto my face. Wendi gave me a great orgasm at the same moment, and then we were all clustering together, moaning and kissing and licking and it was just wonderful.

Ryan later told me that I had been a good test subject for his device, because based on my reactions he’d made all sorts of improvements in it. By the time Mom came out to join us, walking naked from the house across the lawn to Wendi’s shock and then delight, Wendi’s tits were just as bouncy and full as mine and her beautiful pussy was just as bare and smooth.

“Oh, Ryan!” Mom said, pulling Wendi to her feet and looking at her with lusty eyes. “I’m so glad you chose Wendi! She’s going to be a great little slut for you. Aren’t you, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wendi said in a small voice. She was blushing furiously.

“Beth, have you tasted Wendi’s pussy yet?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s great, Mom, like buterscotch!”

Mom laughed. “Ryan is so clever!”

“Mom, you and Wendi eat each other,” I begged. “Right now I really need Ryan to fuck me!”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Mom said, reaching down to finger her own bare snatch. “Wendi, would you like to make love to me?”

Wendi was already licking her lips. “Yeahhh,” she sighed.

Lucky for me Ryan was really into doggie style. I had the most terrific view of my Mom and my best friend sixty-nining each other until both of them collapsed, yipping and twitching from their orgasms! And Ryan saw it too and pumped about a quart of hot scalding cum into me, or so it felt, and receiving it, I knew that my life had changed forever and that I wouldn’t want it any other way!

7

What more is there to tell? There are plenty of other girls now. Ryan keeps some–the Hearts Club, Wendi and I call them–and has shorter affairs with others. Wendi has a heart tattoo of her own now, with a big gold 2 and, of course, Master’s name. She’s nearly as perverted as Ryan! You should see that girl with a strap-on or with a great big thick double dildo! My Mom, whose heart tattoo is number 3, says that next to Ryan, Wendi is the one she wants driving her crazy!

It’s been, what? One, two, maybe even three? I don’t know how many years since Ryan enslaved us. You don’t keep track of time when you live this way. There’s really no need; nobody seems to be aging, not even Mom and Tom. When he’s not on the road, Tom wanders around the house with kind, absent-minded smiles and greetings for the naked or nearly naked girls who are always going at each other. Usually Ryan has tired of one of the temporary girls, and he lets Tom and Mom have three-ways or even orgies with them before he sends them on their way. Tom just accepts everything without question. It’s all perfectly normal to him. We live in a much bigger house now, a more expensive one with all sorts of comforts and conveniences. As it turns out, being a mind controller is even more recession-proof than the funeral industry!

I love Ryan so. I love Wendi even a little more, I think–or at least I love her a lot more often, because Ryan’s so busy with his other girls that we don’t get fucked as much as we used to in the beginning. Wendi and I are bedmates, though, so we have no complaints.

In fact, she’s just come in. You should see her now. She persuaded Ryan to give her this permanent bronze tan, so deep that she looks exotic, like someone from Hawaii, and her great big boobs have these fantastic dark nipples that are always thrusting out about an inch and a half, just begging me to suck and nip at them! Today she’s oiled up her fantastic body so that it’s gleaming and inviting and tempting, and just from the lustful look in her eyes I know exactly what she wants from me.

Mmm, yeah. Excuse me, now. I’ve got someone to do.