Title: Island Intelligence, Chapter 3
* * *Some hours had passed. Kenzie couldn’t be sure how many of them had gone anymore.
Most things hadn’t changed: she was strapped down— sometimes her left arm was free, and her mother was making her masturbate her sister. Sometimes that arm was tied down again. So far, no other part of her had ever been released.
The footage was always playing— the two sisters fucking each other skillfully, creatively, inventively. She had fucked her sister with her fingers— every now and again she found her mother was making her do it again— she had stroked round her sister’s clit, she had stuffed her fingers into her sister’s insides, she had and fingered around the rim of her sister’s hole— but she had still not had to fuck her sister in the way the two sisters on screen did it.
She had not put her face between her sister’s thighs, and smeared it in her sister’s essence, she had not circled around her sister’s clit with her tongue while she had two fingers inside. She had not sucked on her sister’s clit like it was a berry she was rolling around on her tongue, trying to tuck inside a cheek— she had not done this while lying in such a way as to put her clit before her sister’s mouth simultaneously. She had not pressed her body flush to her sister’s and gyrated, pressing every surfaceinch of skin, and every nerveending covered by it, to her sister’s corresponding topography. She hadn’t done any of these things.
And she felt two ways about that. Felt one way about it in her head. Felt another way about it in her pussy.
In her head, she was glad not to have done any of those things. Because those things were debased, and they were demeaning— they were disgusting, it was horrendous, so morally unethical to do such things, so immoral and anyone who did them was something nauseating. She didn’t want to do those things— she hated that she’d even had to masturbate her sister at all; she hated that their mother was making them do these things. Because sometimes when Kenzie’s arm was strapped down, Britney’s arm was let free, and she was the one that masturbated Kenzie.
In Kenzie’s pussy, though, when reflecting she had not done anything like the footage shown so far, she had a different feeling. Emotionally she felt all those things she felt about it; relief she’d not been forced to debase herself in a way that she found abhorrent, hope that she would never have to— but in her pussy, there was only a hunger.
It twitched every time she watched the footage and saw a new sex act being performed— saw tongues, hands, faces, mouths all going places she’d never known they could go before. It seemed to twitch constantly, moreso if Britney was feeling around her under firm guidance from their mother. Kenzie’s pussy twitched every time she saw the footage, and the footage was almost all that she saw; her eyes were always on it. It was always playing.
The other thing always present was the mirror; through the footage, as if it were a veil, Kenzie could always see it hanging there, and see her reflection in it. It forced her to see herself, made her watch herself sweat and breathe shallowly, either as she played with her sister— and she had to see that in the mirror— their mother always stood strategically so she was not blocking a mirrorview.
Or she had to watch as her sister played with her— seeing her reflection was doing something to her mind that was strange. She was disembodied from her own image, as if there were two footage reels playing, one overlaying the other— two films showing. In one, two sisters fucked; two sisters who were strangers, and in the other, two sisters fucked as well as they could while they were mostly restrained in place. But the two sisters there were known to her— she was one part of them, it was her and her sister it was happening to— but seeing it happen within the borders of the mirror just made it feel more like something that was on screen, something that had been scripted, that was predestined.
It made her despair. The two sisters in that screenmirror were being brainwashed. By their own mother— and everything had been planned— it was in the script that the two sisters become two mindfucked incestuous sluts who hated what they did but were addicted to it anyway— that was in the script so it was what had to happen. Kenzie had only become a film character.
Things had been calm for at least the past hour— currently, Mother was holding Kenzie’s hand by the back of it, and she had it positioned directly into her sister’s cunt— two fingers deep, regulating the speed of the thrusts. That had been happening; but their mother had not been speaking— she’d seemed very intent on what she was doing; and it had allowed Kenzie’s mind to drift a little; just watch the colors of the footage change, just watch the second mirrorscreen, how the figures in it were lit by the colors of the first.
It had felt nice to drift. It still felt nice, as it continued to happen— Kenzie’s mind was in a lull of contentment, one of peace— while she wasn’t thinking, wasn’t having to listen to things that disturbed her, she felt much better, much less in anguish.
However, it felt like Mother was moving Kenzie’s hand a lot faster, and that was presenting a distraction; forcing Kenzie back into feeling what was happening, feeling how slick her sister was inside— it must be pruning her own fingers— feeling how tightly around her her sister clenched. Kenzie’s wanted back into that lull, but she couldn’t drag her consciousness away from the present moment and the present sensation.
Britney was beginning to tense up again , and this was, to Kenzie’s supreme disappointment, quickly becoming a familiar signal for her; Britney tensed, then Britney came, and Britney gushed. She was gushing now, lost into her orgasm like she never could be retrieved out of it— Kenzie hated herself for the way her own pussy lubricated sympathetically with her sister’s. Her mind was not impressed, but the way she felt, emotionally, was not on the same page as the way she felt inside her head. Her body responded to all of it like it was attractive, arousing, alluring— Mother was still standing silent above it all, make Britney keep coming by manipulating Kenzie’s hand.
But Kenzie still felt like the one responsible. She was the one whose fingers moved, she was the one who could feel as tactile sensation Britney’s pussy under her touch.
The coaxed movements of Kenzie’s hand had Britney’s body continuing to make spasms.
Kenzie really felt the cruelty of the moment all over again, and it was crushing. Her mother had chosen to do this to them; to make them both suffer this way. She had put them in this impossible situation, which threatened to destroy them both, and destroy them completely— it was because of her own personal decisions.
She could have fought the instance of ai. She could have fought the brainwashing. Or if she had to be the brainwashed slave of an electronic consciousness, she could have at least found some principle in her somewhere to protect her daughters— to let the slavery reach her and get no further.
But she’d chosen to do none of these things. She had instead decided to betray, to destroy. She had no principles of any kind, and Kenzie hated her mother in that moment. If she had been thinking more sympathetically, she might have said that her mother couldn’t help what her mind forced her to do or feel; but she was not particularly disposed towards being sympathetic, considering the harm her mother had so far done— the continuing harm that was still happening as a result of past decisions made— that great betrayal was reverberating outwards, continuing forward, and would it ever stop?
Would it ever stop feeling like one of the women Kenzie loved and trusted most in the whole world had set out to destroy her and all the trust that had ever been between them, every happy memory they had ever shared between them. How could someone in her own family do this to her, do this to them, the both of them, Britney too— as Mother was slowing the movement of Kenzie’s fingers, Kenzie wanted to cry tears of frustrated rage— but there was so much pain behind that rage. She had trusted this woman, believed that she cared about her— about their whole family— and she’d done this— she’d proven herself to be this— she’d betrayed that trust, and it was broken irreparably.
There was rage, then behind that the pain— and below that, there was despair.
If she couldn’t trust a person she’d known for twenty-some years, then who could she trust? If that person wouldn’t protect her, then who would? And life was hard— and Kenzie had known her share of disappointments and sorrows— this woman had known her to know them— yet none of that had apparently given her pause, stopped her from betraying in the way she had.
Mother had finally stopped moving Kenzie’s hand. She withdrew it from Britney’s pussy, put it back along the length of armrest. Kenzie let it flop there, sagged in the chair.
It was more of the despair she was feeling now. The only thing to be grateful for was that Mother hadn’t said anything for some time— she’d seemed focused on manipulating Britney’s hand.
She looked at Kenzie closely now. “What are you thinking, Kenz?”
Kenzie’s whole body shuddered— it was abhorrent to find the previous context of closeness called in after the fact, in the aftermath of betrayal. “I hate you,” she said.
Mother smiled at her. “Good, you’re both learning. It’s very important you understand what’s happening to you— that there be no delusions, no imagining that I’m only a bystander, that I don’t know what’s happening. I want this to happen— I want to make it happen. I want you both to be Mommy’s good brainwashed daughters. And you’ve both had enough orgasms now to make sure you’re just pliant enough for what Mommy’s going to do next.”
Mother turned away— Kenzie felt her stomach drop. Something else was going to happen next and Kenzie really didn’t want it to. Hadn’t enough happened recently? Hadn’t she and Britney both been through sufficient distress? Did there have to be more? And did her pussy really have to wake up at the thought that there would be? Her mother was a traitor to them both, but Kenzie’s pussy seemed like a traitor to her body, and her body a traitor to her soul.
After turning, mother had walked to the corner of the room, and she was now opening a compartment in the wall. It was unclear what she was retrieving from it, but she seemed to be doing something. She changed her stance as if affixing something to her body; taking added weight— then she turned back around Kenzie shrieked.
Mother had put a phallic shape between her legs. Kenzie had never even seen a real penis before— she only knew what she knew from basic biology; but what Mother had between her legs— what Mother seemed to have put by the other end into her vagina, did not look like the basic penis Kenzie had had a concept of. It was much too thick, too wide, too long— an awful purple color— and Mother ran a hand along the length of it now.
“Kenzie, tell Mommy how much you hate her,” Mother repeated, still stroking the wornlength.
“I hate you,” Kenzie repeated. It had become true.
“Mommy’s going to fuck you into changing your mind; fuck you through a new phase of your brainwashing process.”
Mother approached; she was coming closer. Kenzie tried to shrink away but her restraints held her fast.
And now that Mother had stepped more fully into view, Kenzie could see her better.
She did not only have that abominable dildo in her pussy, she was wearing a full harness to support it— and Mother had had her nipples pierced through— each one held a vertical bar with a studded top, and a studded base, and at the bottom of each piercing, there was a chain which led back to the harness, and to the dildo, and both chains met on the base of the dildo, its rounded underside, and connected there around another stud.
Kenzie didn’t say anything. Didn’t plead. Mother had already betrayed her in the way that she had once before, nothing would stop her from doing it again— nothing she said would change it. And even if she coaxed promises of protection from her Mother, or proper behavior— and were those all she wanted? — even if she did, she’d never be able to believe them again.
Mother had reached her. She stood astride Kenzie on her chair— and for a moment, let each hand rest on each hip. “Instance,” she called out into the room. “I’m ready!”
They had planned something together? That did spur Kenzie to speech.
“You won’t help your own daughters, but you’ll co-operate with a crazy ai?” Kenzie’s voice was disbelieving.
Mother smiled at her, and mussed the hair of her scalp with the quick movement of her hand. “Mother’s helping her daughters be brainwashed, dear.”
She dropped her hand back to her hip— Kenzie looked past her mother and saw what she had signaled.
The footage of the two depraved sisters was gone. It was alarming to Kenzie that this registered as an emotional pang for her— after having to watch it for so long, it had come to be like a crutch for her. And now it was gone after she’d gotten used to having it there.
Now, what was being shown instead, projected the entire wall over and over the mirror too— seemed to be a livefeed of the room. That made the mirror more confusing; a screen within a screen, showing two different angles; the actual footage showed the angle that would have been available to a person standing at the back of the lab and looking ahead— the two chairs, Kenzie and Britney only visible from behind, and even then, really only their heads shown— and Mother standing astride Kenzie, with her hands on her hips.
The mirror showed the inverse; Kenzie and Britney facing forward, Mother only visible from behind, still standing astride Kenzie.
“Eyes on the footage,” Mother said then, and Kenzie didn’t understand why— she didn’t agree with it, but her eyes locked onto the footage on the wall as soon as she was told and she couldn’t make them look away.
The footage had changed; no longer was Kenzie looking at a zoomedback view; now she was looking at a closeup— and it still disturbed her that the ai had cameras in here, that it could somehow get an angle that was this close— it had zoomed close, and it was showing the phallus— showing it from over its topside, so the view was angling towards Kenzie’s open pussy— and it was strange and disorienting to see her pussy from this angle, as if she were a second individual approaching herself— that was not the view she had when she looked down from atop her neck.
She could see the phallus was only several inches back from Kenzie’s pussy— and Mother shifted yet again.
She put her knees on either side of Kenzie’s legs, no longer standing astride, but now kneeling astride— she was lowering her hips and when she did— Kenzie could feel her doing it— when she did, she saw the phallus dip lower on the wall— she could not even look into the mirror to check, but she imagined that her mother’s reflection was absorbing her own image, getting in the way of it.
“You already feel so turned on,” Mother said. “You’ve come so many times— your body is filled with pleasure, and made tired by it— and being turned on like that, having been fucked so many times— it makes your mind hazy. And a hazy mind is ready for brainwashing. Every word you hear me say burrows into your brainmatter.”
Kenzie’s eyes had gone to the wall to watch the camerafootage when she’d been told— Kenzie’s mind, when it heard the words her mother shared, believed them— and it made her mind feel cloudy.
But cloudedly, she did note that her mother was not saying her name— a good chance then, that Britney had been just as grabbed by the command to watch— that every single thing Mother said to her was having an equal effect on Britney— Mother did one thing, but it happened to both her daughters simultaneously because they’d already both been conditioned enough to respond like that.
There was the despair again— she was this affected already, and Britney was too? There was no hope for them— and she hated this. The sister-sister incest had been bad enough— but now to have to endure mother-daughter incest, and not only endure it, but practically star in pornography of it herself— it was disgusting, it would never ever stop sickening her— but her pussy was still wet.
The head of the phallus was into Kenzie’s pussy; just shallowly in, she was caressing its tip— she’d never taken a penis, never taken any kind of girth, never had sex of any kind. She’d been saving her virginity for a prospective husband.
Mother seemed to be following her train of thought. “Let Mommy take your virginity with her dildo, Kenzie—” that phrase only for her, wouldn’t affect Britney. “It will hurt for a minute, but it will feel so good after!”
Kenzie shook her head, but didn’t speak. She was shaking her head but she could feel her body burning— could feel the ghost of all those orgasms Mother had made Britney’s hand give to her— and then Mother was really driving the— she’d called it— driving the dildo in.
It felt like being stretched. It felt like being speared. The pain was sharp, as though something was being dragged through— presenting a resistant force, something being pushed just past its breaking point— but it seemed things were just shy of being there— being forced, pushed too far, it hurt—
“That’s your hymen, Kenzie,” Mother said. “It’s still there, because you’re virginal— you’ve been a good little virgin, and now Mommy gets the benefit of your good behavior. If you ever had married, it would have been your husband taking this— but you’ll never fuck anyone you aren’t related to. You won’t ever take any cock that isn’t Mommy’s synthetic one. So Mommy gets to do— this—”
Mother snapped her hips— it was a forceful jerking forward. Before she had been sliding in slowly, dragging her dildo into Kenzie’s hymen— stretching, just shy of the breaking point, making Kenzie feel the tension of that— how close she was to the feeling of a break, without that break happening.
The force drove the dildo forwards— and it felt even more like being speared— she felt that thing inside her tear, and it hurt— it hurt so much it must have made her bleed. Her hymen there had been keeping her mother from getting any deeper without tearing to force her way in— but now that it had been torn asunder, Mother could drive the dildo back, back far— and it was still aching— because the dildo was too thick, too wide, Kenzie felt like she was being forced open. She didn’t want to be that wide— were there more things inside her that would tear? Were there more things inside her that would bleed?
Mother drew back, getting the dildo out of Kenzie, letting it hover several inches away from Kenzie’s entrance.
There was blood on it— when Kenzie’s hymen had tore, it had bled on the thing which shredded it— there was the evidence there.
“Eyes on the footage,” Mother said again— the closeup was still on Kenzie’s pussy, even closer— she didn’t under stand how the instance was getting this angle— but it was like the camera was nestled somewhere between Kenzie’s labia, showing the open hole in full anatomical detail, in full graphic closeup.
Kenzie felt a dizziness in her head— there was a second image overlaying the first, before the full picture could even overlay the mirror— the second image showed the dildo, closeup, in full synthetic detail. It made Kenzie’s heart stutter. It was so big and it was going back inside her.
And she had two angles to consider this: essentially the perspective of her pussy, watching the dildo come in, and the perspective of the dildo, watching her pussy come on.
“You’re looking at your mind,” Mother said. “You think you’re seeing you’re pussy, but you’re only seeing your mind. And you see what is driving into your mind— you see how wet, how open, how receptive it is— completely ready to receive— and you see— the thing driving into it is perfect understanding. You’re an incestuous slut for your mother and sister— you love how hot it is to be depraved. It’s not possible to resist the idea anymore— because you see just how perfectly your mind receives the thought. It receives it because it’s true.”
Kenzie tried to hold on to right understanding— tried to place the imagery she was viewing in its correct context. But she couldn’t seem to fight off what her mother had said. Hearing the claim had somehow made it true in her head— in the mind she was looking at right now— look how receptive and open my mind is, she thought, echoing her mother’s words— Mother angled the dildo forward and speared it into her.
She felt it as a fantom sensation through her forehead, too— like her brain was being speared— it was being speared, she was watching it being speared— there it was, opening, fitting, conforming around the idea coming in— she was incestuous slut for her mother and sister, she was an incestuous slut— her pussy was so dripping and wet. Her mind was so open and ready, the idea could just slide right into it.
Mother shifted her arm— Kenzie could see it just out of the corner of her eye. Britney made a noise a sound later— Mother was probably playing with Britney’s clit— this conclusion was the result of a half-seen glimpse, and an overheard sound, because Kenzie’s eyes were trapped to the imagery.
She was watching her mind be penetrated— and she could still feel it in head, like the idea was spearing it right there, like it was a pressure moving through her forehead, repeatingly parting the contents of her skull to fit inside. The idea massaging everything it touched by the friction of its movement— in a way that was somehow the same as what Kenzie felt inside— warm shifting that seemed to make her pleasure glow— that made her body seem to clench and drag, to make the shifts feel even bigger— make it felt like there was more shifting, shifting better— but she was only being fucked in the mind, right? She wasn’t— in her pussy—?
“It’s easy to think of your pussy as a mind now,” Mother said, rocking her dildo forwards. Kenzie’s mind seemed to keep breaking every time a physical act happened that dragged her back to reality— because the reality interfered with her constructed understanding of it— then the constructed understanding superseded— like her understanding of true reality was being washed out— “because your pussy is so horny— and you were already feeling how separate it was from your heart, weren’t you?”
That was not something she had needed to wait for the truth of— she hadn’t needed to wait until she heard the corresponding claim to understand— Mother must have seen her, understanding it— though now she had said it, it seemed maybe slightly truer than before.
But it hadn’t only started in this moment— she’d been feeling the arousal all throughout her lowerbody, streaking up her back, streaking across her pelvis, it had been undeniable. But she could feel pleasure like that, and her heart just sat heavy. That pleasure could happen— when she moved her hips with the thrusts that kept transforming into constructs— when she moved her hips it was almost like she was making the pleasure happen herself, but when it happened it left her heart out of it completely. She didn’t even have a desire for pleasure out of a place of funseeking— she didn’t want it, didn’t care about it— only wanted to lay limp in her morose feelings.
And even having her mind speared by every thrust she saw— the dildo drawing out and plunging back in— the idea drawing out and plunging back in— even having that, she could still judge what was happening. Incest was still wrong, still repugnant— but she couldn’t deny the very real heart and body divide; judgement was separated from sensation, and no matter how apathetic her heart, her pussy was still interested and still awake— her mind was still open and still receiving.
She watched the concept going into it, making it squelch to fit around it— she was an incestuous slut for her mother and sister— that was repugnant and awful, that was so, so twisted— but she was an incestuous slut for her mother and sister, she was an incestuous slut for her mother and sister— accepting that idea wasn’t something she could resist doing, not when accepting it made her body feel the way it did.
When she took the idea in, and let it be inside her, her whole body felt like it was basking in warmth, like it was suffused, and she could feel herself gripping on something so satisfyingly filling— something she could never remember—
“You want to be Mommy’s good slut,” Mother said. “Say that to Mommy.”
Kenzie’s mouth opened. She was still watching her mind accept— and feeling that satisfyingly mysterious plug high up inside. “I want to be Mommy’s incestuous slut.”
“Even when it sickens you? Add that to what you just said.”
Her mind accepted the idea again. Incestuous slut going in, incestuous slut drawing back out…
“I want to be Mommy’s incestuous slut, even when it sickens me.”
Something inside Kenzie ground, ground against something good— and Kenzie had no control over it, she seized up around the feeling, holding— somehow holding that feeling inside— she understood the idea was in her brain. It was sitting in there— just sitting— and that made her orgasm, just like Mommy’s incestuous slut would.
The orgasm seemed to last a while. Mother held still, letting Kenzie be gripped by it. Only when Kenzie seemed to be calming down to Mother start to move again.
The imagery changed— now it showed Mother’s breasts, the chained nipplepiercings— the studded bar in each nipple.
“Mommy’s fucking you with her dildo, Kenzie,” Mother said. “You can understand that again.”
It felt like the world righted— but Kenzie was shaken. Her mother had made her believe something nonsensical— something impossible— had made her literally unable to see her own pussy as a pussy, to see the dildo as a dildo— and somehow now, even knowing it had all been fake, it felt like the idea was still sitting in her mind— and that was orgasmic— it felt like that same kind of shaking, that kind of seizing.
Now she could truly felt it when her mother thrust into her— but she still seemed held by the initial instruction— she was watching the imagery— when Mother thrust, the dildo tugged, and the chains pulled the bars down through her nipples, making the studs flush with the tops of them; the imagery was centered close on Mother’s breasts— and she could Britney breathing raggedly— she knew Mother was still stimulating, fucking both her daughters at once— one with her hand, the other with her dildo— and she hadn’t looked at Britney, couldn’t look at her while she was stuck watching the image which the cameras provided, but she was sure Britney watched too.
“It’s soothing, isn’t it?” Mother asked. “Both of the bars glint. They glint and they dazzle your mind— make you feel all better— all restful— it makes it easier to accept being a slut when you just relax into acceptance. You can watch the glinting and feel your mind solidify around the idea.”
This may have had some tangential effect on Britney— but it had a very targeted effect on Kenzie. The idea which her mind had accepted, which still seemed present in it as a physical thing— that idea was something Kenzie became even more aware of as her mother kept penetrating her. What surrounded that idea had still been firm— but the glinting of those bars in Mother’s nipples seemed to ease the spaces around the thought— she would be an incestuous slut for her mother and sister.
The words in Kenzie’s head had gone silent. Her mother wasn’t speaking currently either— the lab was silent— but Kenzie still felt her disgust as a feeling, even if she lent no words to it. Her minds were silent and her eyes watched bars glitter— unconsciously, her hips moved with the thrusts of the dildo.
She did feel soothed. She did feel eased. While she was being fucked like the good slut she was, she could just enjoy it and keep her eyes watching that glinting which made her enjoy it even more. She could enjoy it, even if she hated herself for doing so.
And she would.
* * *