Melanie's Hypnotic Transformation Chapter 3

Author: fireneko
Published: July 26, 2017 Published on Forum 　　 First 　　Post 　　:
Yes Original Title: 　　meline
's manipulation
Original Author: mindspark 　　Word 　　Count
: 5521
=== 　　... 　　But all good things must come to an end. Around noon, I finally got out of bed. I put on a 　　sports vest, sweatpants, and running shoes, ate something quick in the kitchen, and prepared to go for a short 　　jog nearby. 　　I don't consider my place to be in the suburbs—though I don't see any white fences—but it's definitely not like a slum either. 　　It's just a simple, ordinary home. I started jogging, music playing in my headphones 　　. 　　As I ran, I pondered the events of the past few days. Nothing seemed too strange, although I felt I 　　had changed a lot. I vaguely recalled my former self and the self I was just a week ago—like 　　two completely different people. Life is bound to change, I suppose. Time changes everyone 　　, but can someone become a completely different person in just one week? 　　Hormones at work. 　　Like puberty, I've adapted to whatever changes occur. My body forces me to change, 　　and whatever it is, I can only accept it. 　　I had expected these changes to make me uneasy or worried, but they didn't. I only felt content 　　and peaceful, and I was grateful to have such an intimate partner to whom I could confide 　　everything I had been through and trust his unwavering support. I couldn't imagine what I would be like without Max by my side 　　. 　　I slowly turned my attention back to my jogging steps, or more precisely, to my body, especially 　　my breasts, which bounced freely with each step, unbound by a bra. 　　Everyone who saw me immediately noticed that I wasn't wearing a bra, a fact that sent 　　shivers of excitement through me. 　　My eyes scanned the street, searching for anyone who would notice me, the thought of someone seeing me 　　and being aroused by my body was intoxicating. 　　Many people glanced at me more than once—mostly married men from the neighborhood. With 　　each pair of eyes gathering around me, my body grew increasingly excited. 　　Heat and desire coursed through me, starting with a tingling, itchy pain in my genitals, then slowly 　　spreading throughout my body. 　　The harder I ran, the more violently my breasts bounced and swayed, attracting even more 　　attention. A part of me wanted to strip naked and let everyone admire my naked body; I wanted them to 　　look at me, to admire me; I wanted them to want me. 　　Just the thought of exposure and nudity drove me almost to madness. I was soaking wet, and not from 　　running. 　　It must be hormones at work. 　　I circled the area once, then again, then a third, then a fourth. I wanted to be seen, I wanted 　　their attention. I was drenched in sweat, my sports bra soaked and clinging to my skin, my erect 　　nipples clearly visible through the fabric. 　　Finally, I finished my jog and went home. 　　Usually, after a jog I'm just a little sweaty and slightly warm, but today I was soaked through 　　, my face flushed from the mix of exercise and passion, my legs ached—as did my chest—and I 　　was almost out of breath. 　　If the hormones had any advantage, they made me run longer than usual—though I only 　　wanted more attention. 　　I found Max waiting for me in my room. He was sitting on my bed, phone in hand. 　　"Mer," Max smiled, "did you go to exercise?" 　　I glanced at my sweat-soaked vest, arms crossed over my chest, and looked at Max. "No, I 　　just watched some TV," I answered with a playful laugh. "Oh, right, it just ended." 　　Max smiled too. "Why not continue? I think you can keep exercising to maintain your 　　figure." 　　I stared at him, mouth agape—I didn't need to exercise, my figure was already great—but something 　　held me back. A voice kept echoing in my head: Max was right, I should continue 　　exercising. 　　Is it here? I didn't know what to do, but Max must know, I couldn't doubt him. 　　I shrugged and started stretching, then remembered I needed to practice being sexy, so I 　　made the stretches look like a striptease, except I didn't take off any clothes. Max watched intently, and I'm 　　sure he noticed my nipples sticking out under my tank top. 　　"You should do some jumping jacks first," Max said, pointing his phone camera at me. 　　I obediently jumped up. "You take it," I asked between jumps, "the phone," I continued jumping. " 　　Doing it," I continued jumping. "What?" 　　"I want to record it so I can check later to make sure you're doing it right," my brother said. 　　He was right; he was always so considerate of me. "Keep jumping, oh my god, your boobs are amazing." 　　"Max!" I complained between jumps, "No, that's so vulgar." 　　I was grateful for Max's help, but we were so close; I shouldn't use such crude language. I looked at my brother 　　's face; he seemed to have no idea what I was saying. 　　"Breasts, they're called, breasts."

Max seemed stunned for a moment, then suddenly burst into ear-piercing laughter. I stopped my jumping jacks and
stared at him, not entirely pleased.
"Breasts!" Max said, still laughing. "Is that why you're unhappy?"
I glared at him silently. I couldn't stand people laughing at me. If he didn't stop, I'd
slap him and see who had the last laugh.
"You can accept me praising your body, and you can accept me saying 'shit' or 'fucking,' but
you can't accept me saying 'boobs'?" Max shook his head, finally stopping laughing. "That's fucking unbelievable
."
That's different! No, my face flushed. I felt my cheeks burning. I didn't
like words like "shit" or "fucking motherfucker" either—they were rude and vulgar, but they were just
words, nothing more. Other words, however, were terrible from a woman's perspective
. They were a complete objectification and disregard for the woman's subjectivity, which I couldn't accept at all.
I wanted to tell Max the difference in these words, I wanted him to understand that it was wrong, but I couldn't say
it. Frustration and uncertainty stopped me. I didn't want him to continue mocking me.
Max and I were so close; I trusted him completely.
Yes, I could tell him anything, no problem. I mustered my courage and wanted to tell Max how I
felt.
But Max spoke first.
"You're completely out of it, Melanie, but don't worry, I'll help you. You look
exhausted after running and doing those jumping jacks. I think you've had enough exercise, maybe you should rest
."
When I woke up, I was lying in my bed, still covered in sweat, my legs still
aching. I think I hadn't been unconscious for long. Max was still beside me, leaning against the wall watching
me.
Have you ever had a very conscious experience, yet felt like you were asleep?
That's how I feel now, like waking up from a very real dream. For a moment, I couldn't tell
when the dream ended and when reality began.
My brother stared unabashedly at my breasts.
No, not 'breasts,' absolutely not. Just thinking about that word disgusted me. Breasts were
such a... boring, lifeless, and empty word.
Max stared at my breasts.
Almost without thinking, I thrust my chest forward to let him see more clearly, as if it were my nature.
"You really have a wonderful pair of breasts, Meryl," Max's voice washed away the strange, dreamlike
feeling from before, and his words gave me a hot, stimulating sensation.
"Uh," I actually never knew how to respond to people's compliments, "Thank you."
"Your tank top looks uncomfortable, Mei, take it off."
Almost without thinking, my body obeyed automatically. By the time my thoughts caught up, the
hem of my tank top was already pulled up to my chest, revealing the lower half of my breasts.
Why did I stop?
I couldn't figure it out. Max had seen my breasts before—we showered together last night, so
what was there to hesitate about? If you can't even be naked in front of your family, then in front of whom can you expose
yourself? This is my brother, the brother who has always helped me, and yet I'm hesitating and worrying for no reason
.
When did I become such a jerk?
Was it all because of Hal again? Maybe?
Without thinking further, I took off my vest and threw it on the floor, my breasts fully exposed to my brother
.
My only thought now was that I hoped Max would like my breasts.
It seems most men would like them because they get so much attention, but Max
was different; his praise was more important than anyone else's.
"Take off your pants too, I want to see your whole body."
This time I obeyed without hesitation. Soon after, I was lying on my bed, completely naked
without any covering.
Max left the wall and walked towards me, his
eyes scanning my body with the sharp, eagle-like gaze. If that smile appeared on someone else, I would only perceive
it as sinister and frightening, but on him, it was a captivating smile, handsome and incredibly
alluring.
"You must feel tense all over after exercising, right?"
I shook my head. "No, I don't think so..."
"I'll give you a massage," Max said firmly. Without waiting for my reply, he jumped onto the bed and climbed on
top of me.
For a moment, I instinctively felt something was wrong—somehow, this didn't feel like a
proper position between siblings—but then, it was immediately replaced by another thought.
"Shouldn't I be turning over?" I asked, shouldn't that be how a massage is done? I
was lying on my back on the bed. I'm not a massage expert—in fact, I've never had a massage—but I was pretty
sure this was weird. Shouldn't I be turning over and lying on my stomach?
Max shrugged. "No need, this is fine."
Then he started touching my body.
He started from my feet, massaging my soles and relaxing my joints.
The feeling of his thumbs and fingertips touching me was incredible—firm yet gentle, a truly wonderful sensation that almost melted my heart
. He didn't stop, moving to my ankles, then my feet, pressing on my
calves to make my muscles feel incredibly relaxed.
Reaching my knees, Max gently and carefully pressed down on them, making my legs
spread as if weightless, so he could clearly see my vulva… no,
my clitoris. He must have noticed how excited I was.
Then he massaged my thighs, his fingers getting closer and closer to my clitoris, near my thighs…
He wandered around, teasing me, but just before he touched my most private and moist area, he
moved his hands away, tracing circles on my buttocks with his fingertips.
I felt so disappointed. I wanted more; I wanted Max to touch me there, I wanted to feel his fingers
touching me, entering me.
To some extent, I understood it was hormones at work. I knew it wasn't normal and shouldn't be happening, but I
couldn't care less. At that moment, I just wanted more—more touch, more pleasure, more
Max.
His hands moved to my breasts. Without asking me, he grasped my
breasts and began to knead them, as if he didn't care about anything. His palms brought me a continuous flow of pleasure throughout my body. I
gasped for breath under his massage, and then he tugged at my hardened nipples, and I couldn't help but moan.
I was lost in pure bliss.
My brother really knew how to massage.
After Max finished massaging my breasts, he looked into my eyes. I could feel him touching my
body, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. He brought his fingers close to my genitals,
sliding them along the edge of my groin, but not touching my vulva. He was teasing me, and I could only look into
his eyes, completely unable to look away.
I tried to twist my body to let his fingers touch my vulva, but Max wouldn't let me. His
weight pressed down on me, holding me still on the bed, continuing to tease me.
It was so agonizing.
I saw pleasure and amusement in my brother's eyes. What did he see in mine?
Perhaps he saw my excitement? Desire? Or my current despair? But without a doubt, the most obvious thing
was my uncontrollable lust.
Just when I felt I couldn't endure any more teasing, Max finally ended his torment
. He touched my vulva, gently; our skin barely touched, and I felt
as if I'd been electrocuted. An intense feeling of bliss surged through my body, powerfully shaking my soul. My
body trembled, and I desperately bit my lower lip to hold back a scream.
All my consciousness and thoughts were lost. Max inserted his index and ring fingers into my vulva, spreading them
apart, moving in and out, each time widening my labia and exposing the pink
folds inside. His middle finger hovered, ready to insert at any moment.
His other hand, with his thumb and forefinger, pinched my clitoris, sometimes rubbing, sometimes pulling, squeezing
, twisting, pinching, and squeezing. I only half-consciously knew what he was doing to my clitoris;
most of my awareness was focused on my throbbing vulva and the fingers that were about to enter.
He pressed with his middle finger, testing the tightness of my wet vulva, but still refused to penetrate.
I couldn't bear it anymore.
I wanted it, I wanted it so badly, I had never craved anything so much in my life.
"Please," I gasped, making a sound that was almost a moan.
Max heard me; I could tell from his smile. "I can't hear you," he said with a sly
grin, deliberately trying to deceive me. "Can you say it again?"
"Please," I pleaded, moaning.
"Louder,"
he said, and I did. "Please," I begged, my desire intense.
Suddenly, the moment Max inserted his entire middle finger into me, the whole world was engulfed by an explosive orgasm
. My body convulsed, my legs curled up, my back arched, my eyes widened, and I
let out a suffocating scream. My vision was filled with an indescribable light. When my brother began to thrust his
fingers in and out of my vagina, I could see almost nothing.
I felt the muscles in my vagina tightly covering and grasping Max's fingers. I grabbed his shoulders with my hands
and held him tightly.
I couldn't think, and the moans that kept coming out of my mouth made it almost impossible to breathe. My mind
kept racing and spinning, immersed in the electric current flowing between every blood vessel. My body automatically pressed against
Max, trying to get his fingers deeper.
When I finally slowly subsided from my first orgasm, Max curled up his fingers again and attacked my
sweet spot.
Another outburst nearly made me lose consciousness. I screamed my brother's name,
shouting without a care in the world. I don't know how long it took before my senses slowly returned. When I finally
regained consciousness, I found myself lying in a small pool of my own secreted fluids.
Max withdrew his fingers from my body, sending another wave of blissful sensation through me.
I gasped for breath, feeling like my brain was only idling. I felt so tired, completely drained, even
opening my eyes was a struggle. I vaguely sensed Max taking pictures of me with his phone, but I
had no will or strength to resist.
"Open your mouth," Max commanded.
I obeyed, resisting the fog enveloping my body. Max reached his hand to my face, revealing
his middle finger, which had been inside me just moments before, and then shoved it into my mouth.
"Lick it clean."
I did my best, because I had such a wonderful orgasm. I licked the fluid from his finger
; it tasted bitter and sour, not pleasant at all, but I didn't complain.
After I finished, Max left my room, leaving me alone, sweating and naked,
lying in my own fluids. I almost passed out, only lasting a few seconds. As the world went
black, only one thought filled my mind.
Who would have known my brother was such a skilled massage therapist?
(To be continued)

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Melanie's Hypnotic Transformation Chapter 3

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