The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Arousal tended to make many things a daze; at the very least, it served as an urge that feeds off a more primal instinct from within. Many things, either good or bad, can occur during such a period, common sense be damned. Post-nut clarity only exists as a concept derived from mistakes created in the midst of passion. That or just a direct level of shame, it’s the so-called “the hell is wrong with me” moment that arises once the wave of arousal has subsided, leaving those affected with not much more than their own thoughts and regrets.

At the end of the day, when there’s heat trapped within the confines of one’s pants, it must be dealt with one way or another. The varying point of contention arises in exactly how it is dealt with to begin with. Some ignore the feeling for a later time, while others stop what they’re doing to get rid of the distraction in the moment. It varies from situation to situation. Each choice comes with its own upsides and downsides. My first and only job was cut short due to one retched erection; I’ll tell you, morning wood, plus waking up late, with a hint of a spicey dream, can equate to a quick jerk-off that is anything but to the point. It turns out time flies pretty fast when jerking one out, and showing up late three days in a row due to such didn’t paint the best picture in the eyes of my employer.

It was a shitty job anyway, and Mom yelling at me for getting fired my first week wasn’t any different than her blabbing me off for forgetting to take out the trash. In that situation, I didn’t care much either way. Jerking off was much more enjoyable than flipping burgers.

How could any of this possibly be relevant? I could assume someone in the back might be questioning.

When dealing with my recently made lovable little sister and working fast food, the two contrasted each other severely. I wouldn’t mind fucking up one of those situations by doing something idiotic while aroused. On the other hand, Mia has quickly become a token younger sister, which made me realize exactly how Zoey felt when looking at her siblings. She held this precious aura about her, one that I couldn’t accurately place into words. I just didn’t want to upset her in any manner that would affect her long-term, if at all. It’s ironic that the tip the two of us needed was to make her a perverted monster. Everything else appeared to fall into place without much alterations required. But that certainly went to show how she viewed me beforehand.

She’s perverted now, but she’s still Mia. She’s still her own person with her respective wants, desires, and goals. And where Mom’s essentially wrapped around my finger, the leader of the house unknowingly under servitude to her son, that same influence isn’t there for Mia. It isn’t even something I’m sure I’d want for her. Witnessing how things have progressed so far, a part of me would like to continue pushing her towards the point where she’d wish to act out my desires without needing to hide all retaliation behind an oblivious mask. Seeing Mom, someone who holds so much power over my life, submit without even realizing such was something that doesn’t seem to be getting old any time soon. But Mia doesn’t hold that same power and knowing the contrast between perverse Mia and her classic self was enough of a motivator to keep pressing forward on its own. Almost like a split personality, and certainly something I’d want to toy with at some point. Switching Mia between her two selves as she is acting out something would be a treat and a half to experience.

But coming back to the current moment, I was put in a hesitant situation with my raging boner fighting to shove itself out of my pants. Mia’s bedroom door was directly in front of me, my mind raced through the arousingly thick fog to try to figure out if the risk here outweighed the reward.

Mia felt like a new toy now, someone with a personality that finally made her a sister far more akin to myself. As many would treat anything new to them, I wasn’t too keen on “breaking” her. More specifically fucking up this second chance of having a relationship with her. Beforehand my sister and I would’ve, quite literally, never seen eye to eye. I genuinely couldn’t remember a single “sibling moment” the two of us ever shared between us. At least, ever since the two of us had hit puberty. Being far more perverse than before, didn’t make her a mindless sex doll or anything akin to the like.

As mentioned before, she’s still her own person. The same Mia as before, just with a far more perverted eye. A perverted human being is still a human. And most humans, perverted or not, aren’t keen on their siblings bursting into their room while they are masturbating. I know I wasn’t a fan when the same thing happened to me before the 8-ball changed everything. Mom and Mia would burst into my room whether I wanted privacy or not. The former owns the house, meaning I had zero say in the matter. And the latter was Mom’s favorite child, allowing her incredible license that I wasn’t offered.

At least when Mia intruded into my personal solitude, I could clap back by telling her that I had been imagining one of her friends or even her. That would always leave her leaving with a shriek and stomping feet.

Granted, Mom would also get involved after some tattling, but regardless it would typically be worth it.

The point is, I had a lot of trouble figuring out whether to barge in or not. With my dick saying yes and my mind speaking the opposite, it was quite the predicament to be in. Her perverse state mind must’ve left her with as much pent-up arousal as I was at the moment. Unless she was fantasizing about me and is into bro/sis action without the use of many triggers to influence that outlook, I’m pretty confident she’d be rather annoyed.

The temptation to see her jilling off left me at a crossroad for sure. There was also that curious itch questioning how exactly she’d react.

My hand grasped the doorknob; its curved metal surface felt warm to the touch, though perhaps that was more due to my anxiety from the given situation. A quick jiggle of the knob noted that it had been locked.

Of course, it was.

She wanted time to herself while fingering her snatch, and here I am, having an existential crisis outside the room. It didn’t help that she was anything but discreet about it. I was able to manage to keep any key sounds to myself, but Mia seemed to be naturally noisy. At least in a squeaky manner, from what I could gather. Even from in the hall, I could pick up soft peeps and heavy breaths; there were some mumbled that stayed undesirable but with a bit of imagination, what was happening behind these walls was quite clear.

I sighed and took a few steps back, leaning against the opposing wall.

Maybe there’s some trigger with her name on it that could make this less challenging of a decision. Of course, I don’t mean literally; her name isn’t on any of the cards. More so, I was referencing the color-coded manner the cards are distinguished, but...

“.....look at you....”

I blinked.

My head served around.

The hell was that noise? It sounded like.

“..dumbass....”

Ah. It was coming from my room, sounding just like me.

“You’re done acting like a pussy?” I waltzed into my room, letting the door slam against the wall without much care. At the moment, the only person who’d be opposed to such was mindlessly standing in the kitchen with a light shade over her head like an idiot. I probably should do something about that before I forget...

“Excuse me?” My own voice sounded appalled, echoing from the 8-ball perched on the nightstand.

“What? Was I mumbling?” Approaching my desk, I hooked a foot around the bottom of my chair and brought it forward before taking a seat. “Cause you were able to eavesdrop on me in the hall perfectly well.”

“Ah. No, I did hear you. I was just somewhat perplexed due to the idiotic irony of the question.” The 8-ball clarified as I pulled out the topmost drawer and returned my scattered collection of trigger cards.

I turned my head to eye the billiard ball on the nightstand. “Says the ball throwing a pissy fit because someone else is beating his easy-ass game. I mean, aren’t you immortal or something? You’d think over the years. You’d refine the game some more. You know, make it less easy for people like me to cheese through it.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, I do full-heartedly agree.”

“Right...” I gave the billiard ball a distinctly unconvinced look. Its internal voice sounding like a carbon copy of my own made it rather evident when it’s being disingenuous. Like a parent knowing when their child is up to something solely by the pitch of their tone, it was evident the 8-ball was still somewhat peeved by the manner in which I played its game. Besides, I wasn’t breaking any of its rules; if a couple of its triggers were far more useful than others, whose fault is it really if I were to make use of them? “Okay, whatever. So I’ve gotta question.” I held up one of the cards, “If I forget how one of these triggers works, could I get them to give me a refresher if I show them the card?”

“Didn’t you try that before?” The 8-ball questioned; if it had eyes, it would’ve no doubt rolled them. “I thought it would be fair since humans don’t have a remarkable memory, that every “once and a while” you could get a refresher. In case your dumbass wasn’t paying attention.”

I raised an eyebrow, “What does every once and a while mean exactly?”

“Use a dictionary,”

“Okay, sheesh. You say you don’t have an attitude, yet you act like this. And what was up with that remark in the hall?” My attention moved away from the 8-ball and back onto the collection of cards laid in front of me. Rather quickly, I shifted through the ones in white and separated them from the blue cards.

It was still a bit odd to me how my mother’s favorite color was white. Everyone would just assume that the cards default to the color white, but no, out of all the colors in the rainbow, she just enjoys that one the most. But currently, I was perfectly content leaving her as a lamp while I figured out how to proceed with Mia, mostly because I didn’t want her presence to be something else to take into account, which would no doubt happen if she were allowed to walk around.

After all, I can’t have her meandering about as if she owns the place.

“Well, you were out there wobbling around like an indecisive idiot. Unable to figure out how to deal with your pathetic urges.” The 8-ball said, “How could I possibly avoid remarking on that?”

I held one of Mia’s cards with a frown, “Yeah, and talking with you isn’t helping things.” glancing down towards my crotch, I felt a slight twitch. “My motivation is dying off by the second.”

“I’d say it’s good that you aren’t getting turned on by the sound of your own voice.”

“Agreed,” I said, spying one of the cards. “And I think I have an idea...”

“Really? You? That’s rich.”

My eye twitched at the tune of a sudden jolt of annoyance, “Okay, I had it up to here with your whole passive-aggressive attitude going on.” I pushed back on the chair and bolted to my feet. “Whatever’s putting you in this pissy mood, you’ve gotta figure it the fuck out.”

“Boy, shut the fuck up.” The 8-ball snapped as I approached to snatch it off the nightstand. “If you believe I’m- Wait, Woah- What in the hell?” it protested in opposition to being suddenly handled, more so when I went to the windowsill and pulled it open. “Have you lost your damn mind!? And you have the nerve to say I am the one with the attitude!”

“Yeah, because you don’t stop insulting me when I’m trying to fucking think!” I stuck my arm out the window; the 8-ball clutched in my hand suspended over a large drop into the bushes below. “I think you need some fresh air to cool off.”

“Cool off? It’s like ninety degrees outside! And that’s funny coming from the immature brat staying in the house all day getting off on mind-controlling his oblivious mother into satisfying his fucked up fantasi...”

FFffssshhh

The annoying sound of my voice racketing through my head died down, letting go of the billiard ball. Gravity dragged it down into the bushes, where it stayed out of sight and, more importantly (in the literal sense), out of mind.

Alright.

Finally,

I sighed a peaceful breath. With a head empty of that ball’s blabber, I could focus on my own thoughts.

Despite the 8-ball’s claims, I do, in fact, have an idea in mind.

Brooke hadn’t been expecting these two minimum wage workers to try anything. Most with common sense can gauge the simple risk vs. rewards aspect that affects all things in life. And planning an attack on a police officer in the middle of the day at the chock center of a suburban neighborhood wasn’t one of those risks that come with any kind of notable reward.

Granted, these are trash workers; it’s not as though they have much to lose. That’s basically the job that goes down to those that don’t possess the options for anything else; at least, that’s how she views the occupation. Sure, it’s a necessity as far as jobs come, people need their trash taken care of after all, but she wouldn’t see why anyone would willingly choose to be the person to get that task done.

No matter how she twisted it, her guard was down. A brattish privileged blonde smashing up the back of a garbage truck didn’t set off any alarm bells.

That being said, she isn’t competing with Zoey for the open position of detective solely to stick it to the redhead. No, Brooke genuinely knew and was fully confident in herself that the position would be far more deserving in her hands. Zoey gets too easily distracted by certain things. She has and proved to be completely willing to ditch her job for minor things like family issues.

It isn’t necessarily horrible that Zoey cares deeply about those close to her. Still, when it detracts from the job of protecting and keeping order in the streets, that’s when Brooke can say without shame that Zoey’s compassion is a direct weakness.

In other words, Zoey might be a better family woman. But Brooke makes a far better cop. There isn’t a doubt in her mind about that. Case in point, her reaction time is noticeably fast, at least faster than the redheads. Detecting danger and neutralizing it before it becomes a problem in the first place is a skill that Brooke takes great pride in.

Which is why when she saw the man pull out a shiny dark purple object, Brooke’s hand shot towards the taser on her belt, and she had it retrieved and primed towards the man in a second’s time. But there was a brief moment of hesitance, one that she wasn’t used to exhibiting due to her training.

However, it may be claimed that most people would hesitate if someone pulled out a billiard ball for no apparent reason.

Despite her hesitance to pull the trigger, since a random pool ball wasn’t grounds for tasering someone, Brooke took a much firmer position than before. She kept the taser in hand, “Hey, watch it. I want you to keep both hands on—”

Her eyes flicked towards the number on the ball.

“4”

Then everything went black.

Like a spell washed over her, Brooke lowered the taser, her stance becoming stiff as she stood at attention.

“That was simple... okay, form a line. I need a headcount of everyone I’ve acquired so far...” the 4-ball wordlessly echoed its feminine voice into the heads of her collection. “Of course, I am only kidding. I do not need a count of you humans; I simply enjoy it when my pawns line up... but while we wait for them, tell me, woman, what is it that the police of this world do? Of everyone I have acquired thus far you’ve posed the most impressive response time.”

With her chest presented forward, Brooke carefully maintained her position of attention as she opened her mouth to respond.

“Actually, hold your tongue,” the 4-ball cut her off, “I’ll just probe your mind... It is far more convenient. And fast reactions or not, I do not respect you enough to let you speak to me unless absolutely necessary.”

A few yards away, on the top floor of one of the houses along the cul-de-sac, Crystal reclined back in her chair. The crunching noises of potato chips resounded throughout her room as she munched distractedly on the snack. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, compelling her to promptly activate the security system installed in her room the instant Mia had left. Having connections and money, as well as ties to those with money, made it simpler to obtain unusual technology such as this.

When the police got involved, it seemed like things were about to get more interesting, because, for some reason beforehand, both the young woman who crashed her car and the trash workers were being completely silent. Things picked up when the police showed up, but that only lasted so long because, like on a dime, the policewoman just shut up, and now no one is talking again.

Actually, the policewoman did open her mouth, but she then just shut her lips and didn’t say anything again.

How is a bored teenager like her supposed to amuse herself by spying on people with her security system when the people aren’t even worth spying on?

Crystal popped another chip into her mouth.

Either something strange is going on here, or her neighborhood just consists of boring peeps.

She halted in the middle of her chew and gradually leaned forward in her chair. Except for the policewoman, everyone on the screen began to move. Even the garbage men got out of the truck. Though... they all began to move at the same moment. Noticing that gave her a fuzzy chill.

They definitely aren’t walking in unison. But she’s sure she hadn’t seen anything; everyone began to move at the exact same moment.

Crystal’s brow furrowed when everyone on screen got into a line around the policewoman; even now, no one said a word.

Okay, maybe something weird is going on...

Crunch

“Dang it...” she muttered, glancing down at her chest. She had to brush potato chip dust off her boobs.

By fortune’s fate, Mia was still going at it when I passed her room. On a more subtle note, she became somewhat louder. I could discern a distinct shuffling sound that only a skilled masturbater could detect by sound alone. Or, on an equally likely note, I was so deep in my own perverse mind fog that I was out here hearing things that simply weren’t there. Either way, the truth would be relieved soon enough.

Though first, there was something I needed to acquire for this idea of mine to fall into motion.

“Hey, Mom,” I walked into the kitchen, it was impossible to prevent a smirk from forming on my face as I approached the woman who had once wielded the strings controlling my life.

The woman in question failed to move an inch, not even so much as a twitch; her powerful aura of authority made wholly void by the sheer absurdity of her situation. Standing at attention, arms resting at each side of her child birthing hips, and entirely naked, unaware of the true going ons taking place beneath her roof. That in itself would be enough to crack the iron wall of command she had constructed for herself to wield with dominance over the household, but the flimsy ass beige lamp cover was just the icing to add insult to injury. Simply put, she looked fucking ridiculous; there’s no way around it.

And I’m all for it.

It was particularly pleasing from my perspective as someone who had experienced her unwavering authority firsthand; her current state served as a nice before and after. In her unaware mind, there wasn’t a lick amiss. She’s in complete control here, after all.

Such an unknowingly delusional outlook to have was why I didn’t feel the weight of guilt boring down over me. At least not enough to give it much thought. There wasn’t much, if any, psychological damage taking place on the woman that raised me. She can’t be stressed by anything going on, if she doesn’t even realize any of it is occurring. Hell, half the fun is watching her try and fail to put the puzzle pieces together. She is undoubtedly an incredibly intelligent woman, she’s always able to detect when something isn’t right in a situation, yet the same woman is still standing here with mindless obedience. Her mind is utterly emptied since inanimate lamps aren’t burdened by anything akin to thoughts and emotions.

By the time her intelligent mind is able to fall into the realization that something is afoot and she needs to put a stop to things, it would be far too late as, by now; there isn’t anything she can feasibly do to oppose the hold I have over her.

It’s like an inside joke, one she is hopelessly out of the loop on.

“So I’m gonna need to go in your room and look through your stuff,” I said to my lamp, or mother... see with a bit of imagination, it was possible to get the two mixed up. For a moment, I did get distracted by her nipples, as would anyone when topping off breasts as milkable as hers, but they were fully erect.

Curiosity brought me to twist one nipple. I glanced up to her face and even tilted the lampshade to gauge if there was a reaction, but she continued to stare straight ahead, barely even blinking; her blue irises remained glazed. My hand moved to her opposing tit and gave the nipple a hard squeeze, though just as before nothing occurred, not even a moan.

Now, I’m not a woman. So take this with a grain of salt, but I’m fairly certain the nipples are rather sensitive spots; seeing how Mom is taking this in stride, not even allowing a faint flush to tint her cheeks, was remarkable. I guess she is really sticking to the whole object roll.

Isn’t she the same person that told me “Women aren’t Objects” when she caught me eyeing a girl’s ass at the grocery store? I’m pretty sure this goes against her own words, not really acting like a good mother right now.

Heh, her daughter is even jilling herself off like a sex maniac in her room, and Mom, who had shown multiple times to be against her kids partaking in sexual actions under her roof, is doing lick about it. Though I’m sure, Mia masturbated in secret, what teenager doesn’t? I can’t be the only one that tried to pump one out in secret. Perverted or not, Mia definitely stuck a few fingers in her cunt every once and a while. I’m certain of such. It was a part of the reason why I was so ticked off over her always being noisy and against the idea of her brother doing anything perverted.

There wasn’t any doubt; I knew for sure she did it in secret. And her coming around nagging me about doing the same thing was annoying as shit. But she is Mom’s daughter, both share the same blood, and one will grow up to resemble the other eventually. Yet it’s funny how both of Mom’s daughters varied so differently in personalities.

I gave Mom’s erect nip a poke.

Heh...

Oh, wait.

“Okay, just wanted to check in, Mom,” I said, reaching around to cup the underside of her bubbly ass and jiggle her supple flesh.

Giving her a parting slap, I stepped away.

“If you’re opposed to anything, feel free to speak up! Remember, you’re in charge,” Backing away slowly, I gave her some time, though I knew full well nothing would come of it. “Ah well. Nothing? Glad you approve then!” I gave her a thumbs up while she stayed mindlessly at attention, her beautiful face restricted by the lamp cover.

It was hard not to rub salt in the wound, and there was no downside to doing so. She wouldn’t remember a thing, regardless of how many loops her head would have to jump through to make sense of the laps in memory.

You know, I will admit. That trigger to essentially render Mom a non-threat in almost anything would definitely make the matter of searching for triggers under her gaze rather easy. That made itself notably clear when I ever so casually waltzed into my parent’s room; this must be what it feels like to own the place. I knew there wasn’t any negative weight that could befall me, the only presence that could provide such was stuck in the kitchen and didn’t have a functioning brain at the moment.

That particular trigger might just be a tad bit “broken” as gaming terms go. But who am I not to eat the food placed in front of me? I didn’t make the triggers; if the 8-ball made a broken set of rules, it can’t be upset when someone abuses them. I made a causal mess of things, throwing apart the articles of her room in search of one thing.

Actually, two things. I should’ve thought that out more when typing the previous sentence.

Firstly, I wouldn’t be opposed to stumbling across any triggers through my wake; so pulling out the bed sheets, emptying drawers, flinging pillows, and clearing out the closet wasn’t entirely aimless. Also, a part of me wanted to stick it to Mom just because I enjoyed bending her over my finger.

Theoretically, of course.

But, such aimless antics wasted more time than I’d have wanted to. The idea was to catch Mia before she had finished jilling herself, though my constant bout of distractions made that chance less likely to come about. That didn’t stop me from cementing my focus on the other thing I had come here for.

Approaching the desk beside her bed, and opened the drawer, which I then may or may not have emptied onto the floor. I retrieved a box of clear medical gloves. Or, to be specific, as labeled on the box “Nitrile Exam Gloves.”

It helped to have a doctor as a mother. She kept a whole ass crate of these things in the backyard shed.

Anyway...

I stepped back, accidentally stumbling over the clutter of mess I had made in the process. That was a fair, albeit minor, flex of karma right there. But one that only minorly delayed me.

Knock Knock Knock

My knuckles drummed against Mia’s door, and in an instant, particularly before she could react, I asked with a raised voice, “Mia! Do you need help taking a selfie?”

After the question, a brief pause was allowed to persist. Lasting just long enough for me to question if she had heard me. “Ommigawd!” Soft feet patted loudly against the carpet at a swift pace. The doorknob wobbled before there was a click, and the door opened. “Yes! Yes! YES~” Mia giggled, her lightly freckled cheeks formed into a smile that nearly reached both eyes.

Without another word, her hands grappled around my wrist and dragged me inside. I was nearly pushed forward before she looped back and closed the door shut. She turned the lock, creating the same clicking sound as before, and spun around holding that smile. “I- I really appreciate this!” She appeared to shuffle in place as if faintly embarrassed, and brushed aside some of her blond hair.

She hadn’t provided me with much time to formulate words, not that I had much to say. The majority of my focus had been momentarily set awry due to her current, well.... her.

I hadn’t expected to open the door in the state she was currently in. That being wearing nothing but a cute light blue bra and pantie set with a white border lining the edges of the undergarments. Garments that might’ve been at least one size too small due to the way the petite girl’s large breasts squished into one of the cups. Keep in mind. Only one bra cup, because the other wasn’t even on properly due to the strap hanging somewhat off her shoulder. The wardrobe malfunction left one of her boobs almost entirely exposed, at least bearing the full show of her nipple. One that pointed its face directly at me in some form of candid greeting. Her entire body, slightly sprinkled with a fair dash of freckles in key points, glistened with a noticeable sheen of sweat that caused the light from the window to reflect off her.

The gleam of perspiration drew my focus more downwards in a path onto eyeing her hot spot. Her panties lay midway down her thighs, slightly above the knees. Yet another distinctly noticeable surprise was lying in wait around her inner thighs; a distinctly white substance and a clear show moist discharge seemed to be seeping down her legs.

I had caught her in the midst of cumming, and she didn’t bother to compose herself or even attempt to clean off anything. The bed had an evidently human imprint left behind, along with a squeezed pillow and a few stuffed animals thrown onto the carpet.

Something sitting atop her unkempt comforter glistened the rays of light peering in through her blinds.

Was that...

A dildo?

Light blue with an electrical plug and everything...

Hot fucking damn, she was going at it.

I took note of her phone; it was face down on the ground. She must’ve accidentally brushed it off the bed in her rush to stumble to the door.

Which reminded me...

“I swear I’m going to owe you one after this!” Mia chimed; she moved up to me quickly, unconcerned or simply unconscious of her current condition of attire. Continuing her quickened pace, she placed both hands on my shoulders and leaned up to swiftly peck her lips on my right cheek, again continuing the surprises that instantly brought my mind into yet another series of sputters.

That was definitely not a part of the trigger. I used it a couple of times before, and she was never this open; sure, she was appreciative, but not to the degree to display that in the form of a quick kiss. But it also seems like each trigger is formed in a manner that it looks like I’m going through bounds and leaps to do her favors for no real personal benefit. Maybe they stack on top of each other to add some kind of multiplayer to her affection towards me. Doubly so because she’s become much more perverted than before, making her already like me far more than regular Mia would ever dream.

Her brief peck left a wet sensation on my cheek; she reddened as she leaned her face back, indicating that her decision wasn’t muddled by the unaware nature of her triggers.

“I’ll be, um..” I swallowed, “I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Mia grinned and stuck out her tongue on the left side of her mouth, looking absurdly cute given her erotic state and lack of clothing. “Be sure to remind me!” She chimed and turned around to snag her phone.

That caused her ass to jut out towards me, the heart shape to her round behind shifted side to side as she hummed to herself. Between her two fat ass cheeks swaying left and right, it wasn’t hard to spot her recently pleasured pussy due to the sharp angle she bent at. She returned her phone while I saved a mental image of her rear. Though seeing as I’d be offered legitimate pictures later, there was no real need to do so.

As she cleaned back up and turned around, Mia was about to say something, but I had a surprise for her at the ready, one I had just fished out of my pocket.

Mia paused on the spot, her mouth let open, and words she had planned to utter were put on a direct hold.

“Sub-Trigger,” She said, her voice droned in that emotionless pitch that never seemed to get old, “Whenever Ryan asks if I need help taking a selfie, I will stop whatever I am doing and become incredibly thankful for his offer...”

As she spoke, I began to push forward with the plan I had in mind. The pair of gloves I stole from my mother was next to come out of the same pocket; in no time flat, I had them both snapped over my hand. My fingers flexed in anticipation as I eyed my sister with hungering intent.

Mia’s passive-trigger unable to notice physical touch as long as it wasn’t skin to skin. Nothing could beat the good ol’ flesh-touching-flesh action, but a thin set of medical gloves might be the next best thing. That being said, I couldn’t let this distract me from her instructions on the trigger. It was doubtful I’d get another chance for her to blab about it for a good while.

What she said about stopping whatever she is doing now came as much more literal. She’d stop whatever, regardless of the situation, even in the midst of cumming her brains out, she put that on hold to answer the door, whether she was properly clothed or not.

“During this trance, I will give Ryan my phone to take as many photos of me as he sees fit. He can command me to pose in any position, and I will do so without a second thought. It doesn’t matter how risqué the poses become. I will believe he’s doing this to help me look cute in the photo and not realize that anything perverted is going on...”

With a bit of hesitance, I moved behind her and placed my hand directly on her ass and waited.

“But if he touches me in any manner that my conscious self would not permit, I will immediately wake up from my trance...”

That response, being the continuance of her mindless special, made me smirk. Any touch should snap her out of this trance.

Looks like I found myself another loophole.

SLAP

I couldn’t prevent myself. Her little round butt was far too cute and had the most satisfying jiggle to it for me to avoid offering her an appreciative slap. I moved around to her front and began to fondle her tits; but much beat a busty petite girl with a cute decoration of freckles that rippled with her jiggling flesh. My fingers sank inwards on her boob, and my other twisted and pinched her nipple lightly. I was far less forceful in my handling in comparison to my mother.

The same finger prodding at her nipple grew curious, or in other words, my attention drew downwards. My right hand sank around the large shape of her rack to the toned and fit silky skin of her toned stomach, only to settle neatly over her crotch. Upon inching downwards just a tad more, I licked my lips as the tip of my gloved finger slipped between her folds.

Fuck... it’s warm, and even through the glove, I could feel the sticky discharge that had yet to trickle out.

“When Ryan decides he has~ taken... enoughh~ p~photos of me... I will.. thank him and.. f~f~feel as though he has done me an..... unimagined...able favor...”

Interestingly enough, her monologue wasn’t set to the same lifeless tune that Mom was when she became an object. I guess that fits the theme; she was just put into a trace, but her body still reacted in suit to what took place. I’m just only able to get away with touching her due to the lack of skin contact. With the trigger Mom is under right now, she is literally in the mind of a lifeless lamp, so it is impossible for her to react, whereas even in this drone-like state, Mia is still human.

I retracted my finger, blatantly topped off with a margin of her cum, and raised it towards her lips that continued to spiel along the preset words. Though now, without my finger, her breathing was able to return to its normal pace.

“After a few minutes, I will send Ryan the—” Mia stopped on a dime and stared straight ahead, unmoving and nearly unblinking right as my finger entered her mouth.

I tilted my head and wobbled my finger in and out of her mouth to get her cream off. Using her lips to more or less smear it from my digit. Upon retracting my now saliva-coated finger, (distinctly without cum on it.) The second my finger was free, she continued to speak.

“—pictures he took, and delete them from my phone since I will have no need for them anymore. If I—” She paused as I put my finger back in.

I retracted it, “—ever happen to—” only to put it back in again.

“—come across the pictures—”

“—in day to day life, I—”

“—will not be able—”

“—to see—”

This was incredibly entertaining, just essentially turning her on and off as if I was wielding a remote of some kind. It’s nice that she seems to stop solely so that she doesn’t bite down on my finger because it would be impossible to talk otherwise. Also, call it petty, but messing with her like this felt way more amusing than it should. Furthered so by the fact that she wasn’t above resorting to the same thing; she’d always do the pettiest things just to fuck with me. And knowing that she’d almost always have Mom on her side didn’t help in alleviating things, if anything, it told her that she could mess with me in almost any way because she’d given her mother as a shield I’d be unable to get through.

Naturally, most of that started to change over the last few weeks.

Alas, this isn’t why I came here. I was more interested in rehearing something I could barely remember glossing over the first time she told me this trigger’s effects.

“I will believe he’s doing this to help me look cute in the photo and not realize that anything perverted is going on...”

Anything perverted is rather vague and encompasses a lot of shit. I hope Mia realizes the vast scope and severity that such a broad statement encompasses.

I retracted my finger again, and she continued to near the end of her info dump. While she continued on, I used the time to attempt to clean off the saliva I had accumulated.

The manner in which I did so was by making use of the incredibly sexy little sister in front of me. My spare hand grabbed hold of her left boob by the nipple after getting a solid dough-squishing grope, and lifted it up against her face. My spit-coated digit went against the flat of her chest beneath her boob, before I let go of her melon and let it slap and jiggle back into place. Upon pressing down on her boob, I slid the finger in and out of her underboob flesh and her chest, getting most of her spit wiped off beneath her tit.

It was still a challenge to clean this glove off effectively; that must be why they’re made to be replaceable. I had to quickly make an attempt to wipe the rest of it off with her hair before inevitably giving up and stepping back as she finished up.

“—them as my eyes seem to be incapable of looking at the images...” Mia said mindlessly, uncaring or, more specifically, unknowing of what had been taking place to her while doing so.

Mia’s cute freckled face fluttered to life with a series of blinks.

One blink.

Two blinks.

Three...

Four...

And...

One more blink brought her irises from foggy back to her typically lively self. She shook her head briefly and blinked again. “Okayyeee! Let’s do this!” She pumped her hand, holding the phone into the air before handing it to me. The motion caused the arm with her bra hanging down her shoulder to shift her boobs into a jiggle.