The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised to find a glass of water sitting on my desk, along with two painkillers and a note.

“This will help with your mouth + your head. Can’t do anything about the rest of you. -Mom”

I smiled, before remembering what I’d done the previous night.

Oh, god. No. No, I hadn’t.

The memories slowly swam back into my head.

I had.

I’d hypnotized my sister. I’d hypnotized my sister.

I’d hypnotized my sister with impure intentions.

God, no.

No.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I was mad, I reminded myself. I was mad at Elsa for leaving, and I was horny.

God I was horny.

Okay. I got drunk and hypnotized my sister. I hadn’t been thinking straight.

What had I told her to do?

I’d never gotten drunk before, and the events of the previous night were patchy. I remembered Mom had joined us for a while. It could have been five minutes, it could have been half the night.

I had hypnotized my sister. That, I remembered. I’d hypnotized her, and told her that…

God, what had I told her?

The exact words were a blur. All I remembered were a series of images—my sister’s tits, bouncing as she twitched. Her eyes, slowly dimming as I brought her down through the ten levels. Her slack-jawed mouth, moaning responses to my questions.

I’d told her not to let anyone else hypnotize her; I remembered being quite proud of that one. I’d told her that she was going to let me hypnotize her any time I wanted, that she wasn’t going to question it.

But what else had I said?

One chapter of the book had been about leaving triggers; words or phrases that force someone to behave in a particular way. The first time I’d hypnotized Lisa, I hadn’t felt confident enough to use any, and I’d never gotten Elsa deep enough to even try.

My plan last night had been to…well, they hadn’t been noble.

Had I left any triggers?

I needed to put her under again. I needed to put her under and check.

I needed to put her under, for the right reasons. That was my top priority.

Gulping down the water and pills, I started to formulate a plan. If I put Lisa under again, I could undo whatever changes I’d made the previous night.

If I hypnotized my sister again, I could undo the damage I’d done.

I closed my eyes to think, and the image returned. Lisa: compliant, helpless, vulnerable…twitching in pleasure as I hypnotized her.

No. I couldn’t trust myself. I was too horny to trust myself. Once she was under, who knew what I’d be tempted to do?

I needed to be less horny. I needed to calm down, then I could hypnotize my sister.

I needed to cum,

I don’t know if everyone has it, but sometimes it feels like there’s a tiny part of my brain dedicated to awful ideas. He’ll sit back and chill most of the time, but every now and again will pop out and make a recommendation, something that’s just terrible.

Well, not just terrible. That’s what makes him so devious—he’ll make suggestions that are sort of terrible, but also have a kind of ‘truthiness’ to them. Like, you hear it and think ‘That’s actually not a bad idea…’

I needed to cum, then hypnotize my sister.

If you hypnotize your sister first, the evil part of my brain said, then cumming will be a whole lot more fun

I ignored my wicked brain, filled a tissue with my spunk, and went to find my sister.

Bad timing.

See, it turns out that I wasn’t the only sibling who had woken up horny. As I was lifting my hand to knock on my sister’s door, I heard her; panting, gasping.

Cumming.

Moaning my name.

I don’t remember what I said to Lisa the previous night, but apparently I had given her an incest fetish. Apparently I’d told her to think of me when she came.

Or maybe you didn’t, the evil part of my brain said. Maybe she’s just like you. Maybe she’s been secretly into you for as long as you’ve secretly been into her.

‘No’, I tried to respond. ‘That’s clearly not the case. Firstly, she’s not into me. I did this to her. Secondly, I’m not into my sister.’

That would be a lot more convincing, the corrupt part of my brain responded, if you hadn’t just cum while thinking about her.

To that, I didn’t really have an answer. Sometimes my brain will lie to convince me…and sometimes, it’ll just state facts.

God damn it.

Stepping away from the door, I made a few decisions. Firstly, I decided that I was in no state to hypnotize someone. Secondly, I decided that Lisa was definitely not in a state to be hypnotized. And thirdly, I decided that all of these moral problems were something for Future, Non-Hungover Me to deal with.

My mother was in the kitchen when I entered, cooking up some bacon. As soon as she saw me, she put the pan down and drew me into a warm hug. After a few, comforting seconds, she kissed me on the cheek and let me go.

As mentioned, my mother was almost as busty as Lisa. Even though I’d just cum, having those tits pressed up against me, in the state I was in…

It didn’t help with my confusion.

“Omelette?” she asked, and I nodded dumbly. My mind was racing.

I couldn’t believe Elsa was leaving. I couldn’t believe what the dark part of me had done last night, when I’d been drunk and my sister had been willing. And I couldn’t believe the boner that my mother’s hug had given me.

What was wrong with me?

My plate was mostly empty by the time my sister joined us.

“Hey bro,” Lisa said casually, stepping into the kitchen.

I liked this. I liked the light tone of her voice, the fact that she was treating me like her brother. Which, y’know, I was.

I liked it a lot.

Nothing in her tone, her gait, or her stance suggested that she’d just gotten off thinking about me. Similarly, I hoped that no part of my expression told her that I’d just gotten off thinking about her. We were just two normal siblings, neither of whom had cum, thinking about the other.

Good good good.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to match her casual tone. “Good sleep?”

“Mmmm,” she said.

It was hard to ignore the lust in her response, but I tried.

She was wearing a blue nightgown over some thin white pajamas. It was an outfit I’d seen her in dozens of times before. Nothing remarkable.

Except the pajamas were thin enough to show off her hard nipples, and it was obvious that she was turned on just from being in my presence. God damn, I’d really done a number on her.

I had to work out how I was going to fix this, before it completely got out of control.

Lisa hit level ten in record time. Every time I tranced her, it seemed to get faster and faster.

It had been four days since the two of us had gotten drunk. For the most part, I’d managed to avoid my sister. When I did see her, I couldn’t help but notice that dreamy look in her eyes. She would lose focus slightly at the sight of me, and once I even saw her stumble as she approached me in the hallway.

If she had been anyone else—literally anyone but my sister—it would have been incredibly hot.

It’s especially hot because it’s your sister, the wicked part of my brain chimed in, but I’d shoo it away, and try to focus on something else.

It wasn’t hard. Elsa left that week.

From an eighteen-month relationship to nothing, in just a few days. It was hard to believe. I think I catharted as much catharsis I could possibly cathart in the night we got drunk, but it still hurt. Elsa and I spent a lot of time cuddling and kissing and remembering the good times before she left.

I didn’t try to hypnotize her again. What was the point?

After waving goodbye for the final time, I spent a day moping, and then decided to come up with a plan.

I knew I wasn’t going to do anything with my sister. I couldn’t. It would be wrong. It would be so, so wrong.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability, her willingness to do everything I said, her natural submissiveness, her enormous rack…

It would be wrong.

The wrongness was something I thought about a lot.

So I decided that I needed to put her under, to try to undo what I’d done.

She agreed without hesitation.

“How do you feel?”

“Gooooooood.”

This time, it was impossible to ignore the lust in my sister’s voice. Her slur was more of a moan; you could practically feel the words dripping with arousal.

“Why?”

“I love being hypnotized. I love it.”

There was that twitch again. It was like when someone was sleeping; her leg kicked, and then the rest of her body followed suit, like a fast, one-person Mexican wave.

I really wish it didn’t make me as hard as it did.

“Do you remember what I told you last time I put you under?”

“No.”

Damn. I had been worried about this.

See, the book didn’t do a great job of explaining the subconscious. I’d tried to read up on it elsewhere, but it doesn’t seem to be something we really have a huge amount of knowledge about.

From what I could tell, the subconscious is like…it’s where dreams come from. You know how your dreams can affect your day, but they’re not really a part of it? Like, you can remember them, sometimes, and you’ll be halfway through getting groceries or whatever, and then you’ll get a little flashback—“Oh hey this brand of tomato soup was in my dream” or whatever—but unless you think about it as soon as you wake up, you can’t remember your entire dream?

The subconscious is a little like that.

By talking directly to Lisa’s subconscious, I was able to implant thoughts and ideas. It couldn’t be anything that she was fundamentally opposed to or she’d snap out of it, but it wasn’t like I was giving instruction directly to a slave for her to to rattle off again later.

Instead, it was like I was dropping thoughts and ideas in the soup, and then mixing them until they disappeared from view. They were there, but…well, you can’t pour milk into a soup and then change your mind and take it out again later.

If you want to fix the soup, you have to stir in new ingredients.

“When you next masturbate,” I said, “you’re going to think about going on a date with Bradley Cooper.”

I’d expected a yes, maybe a moan and a twitch. My sister had been crushing on Bradley Cooper since Wet Hot American Summer, so I figured it wasn’t a huge stretch. Redirect her attention away from me, put it back on an old flame.

Should’ve been a slam dunk, right?

“No,” she said firmly. “I won’t.”

It took me a moment to see it—my sister was back up to level six.

Level six. When I’d been putting her under, she’d been at level six for no more than a few minutes—every time we hit level four, the process seemed to accelerate, and she’d be at level ten before we knew it, her mouth agape, her eyes glazed over, willing to accept anything I told her.

Well, almost anything.

It seemed that while she was fine being told that she had to cum while thinking about me (I assumed), she did not like my attempt to reverse it.

You can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do.

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

What if that wicked little part of my brain had been right all along?

What if the reason I’d been able to warp my sister so easily was because…she wanted it?

For the next few minutes, we sat there in silence; my sister at level six, me trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

Being told to get off thinking about Bradley Cooper had been enough to move my sister up four levels.

Being told to get off thinking about me had caused no issues whatsoever.

What.

The.

Fuck.

If my sister was into me, would it really be too wrong to take advantage of that? If it was what she wanted, what was wrong with hypnotizing her into my own personal sex slave? Images of Lisa flashed through my head: on her knees, busty, topless, worshipping my cock.

I couldn’t. Even if she did want it, it was still incest.

I couldn’t.

Could I?