“Hey, dork! I told you to keep out of my stuff! Did you take my-“

Brittany’s rage died in her throat as she busted open the door to her little sister Kess’s room and saw that Kess wasn’t there to evade her accusations with sidelong glances, stammered protests, and telltale filthy giggles. That was weird—Kess barely ever left her room, and Brittany was sure she wasn’t anywhere else in the apartment. Which meant she was out, and Kess almost literally never went out.

Brittany’s sister was a complete and total shut-in.

It was one of many reasons living with her was completely and totally exhausting. Brittany hated that their mom had insisted on the two of them living together when they went away to college. It was completely unfair! At twenty-one, why was she still stuck looking after her baby sister?

It would have been one thing if Kess had been cool, like Brittany. Brittany was cool enough and hot enough that, from her very first week in college, she’d been welcomed with open arms into the very top rung of college society. She went to sorority parties, she had her pick of boyfriends from the college’s football team, and now that she was in her third year, she was surrounded by a gaggle of other girls who hung on her every word. Brittany Simmons: Queen Bee.

But she couldn’t invite anybody over because if she did, she’d have to explain Kess.

And there was so much to explain. In the grand hierarchy of college life, Kess wouldn’t even qualify for the bottom rung. She didn’t even attend. Not really, anyway. She did her classes online, handed in her assignments online, and socialized online—and only, it seemed, with other losers just as gross as her. It didn’t make any sense to Brittany; why be a college student if all you were going to do was stay in and wear t-shirts and track pants?

Of course, she didn’t care about Kess wasting her own time. If Kess wanted to let college slip through her fingers, that was her business.

No. Brittany cared because of all the problems Kess gave her.

“Let’s see…” Brittany murmured. “Gotta be around here somewhere.”

Picking out anything in particular from amongst all the clothes strewn on Kess’s floor was a struggle, but after a few minutes of searching, Brittany was able to find what she’d come here looking for: a pair of her gym shorts that had gone missing lately.

It was almost funny. Some of Brittany’s fellow sorority girls complained about their little sisters stealing their stuff to wear. Brittany would have been over the moon if all Kess wanted to do with her clothes was wear them. She had no confirmation of what, exactly, her little sister did use her clothes for, but the fact that she only stole dirty items felt like one hell of a giveaway.

Disgusting. They were sisters, for Christ’s sake.

“Gross,” Brittany groaned. Everything about Kess’s room was gross. She took a whiff of the air; the whole place stank of sweat. “Time to get the hell out of here.”

She turned to leave—and then she noticed that Kess’s computer was still running.

A slow grin crept across Brittany’s features. Finally. The opening she’d been looking for.

Normally, Kess guarded her PC with her life. It contained the only thing Kess seemed to truly value—and if Brittany was right, a few minutes was all she’d need to be rid of her annoying pervert of a sister for good.  Their mom had a frustrating inability to see any of Kess’s many, glaring flaws for what they were. Whenever Brittany complained about her and begged to be allowed to live with someone else, she dismissed her issues with Kess as nothing more than sisterly misunderstandings. Brittany needed proof, and she was certain proof was waiting right there on Kess’s hard drive.

In Kess’s one and only treasure. Her porn collection.

Brittany knew she had one. She just knew. The way she constantly took up all the bandwidth on their internet connection with nondescript ‘downloads’ was one clue. The other was the constant noise from her porn videos bleeding through the walls and into Brittany’s room at all hours of the night.

That was by far the biggest reason Brittany couldn’t invite friends and boyfriends over.

Kess’s constant masturbation had just one silver lining: it let Brittany know that she was into some seriously gross stuff. Given their apartment’s thin walls and Kess’s apparent inability to just wear headphones like a normal human being, she couldn’t help but pick up on it. A bunch of it seemed to be themed around hypnotism, which didn’t make a lot of sense to Brittany—it wasn’t real, obviously, and wasn’t it way too cheesy to be hot? Another big chunk was, uncomfortably enough, incest-related. Brittany had shuddered upon hearing a particularly loud moan of ‘sis!’ more times than she could count.

And then there were all of Kess’s vids that went on about ‘gooning’. Whatever the hell that was.

Obviously, Brittany got no pleasure from knowing all about Kess’s weird fetishes. Just the opposite, in fact. But the good part was that if she could show some of that stuff to their mom, she might finally be convinced that something needed to be done about Kess. Or at least that Brittany shouldn’t have to be subjected to her all the time.

“OK, loser,” Brittany smirked, as she sat down at Kess’s desk. “Show me your worst.”

Poking around, she quickly found obscene quantities of porn, but nothing that was truly damning. Kess’s computer was just as messy as her room. Pics, videos, and folders were placed haphazardly across all four of her monitors—seriously, why did she need four?—and no system of organization Brittany could discern pointed her to anything she could use as evidence or blackmail material.

Until she saw it. Right in the middle of Kess’s main monitor, staring her in the face and practically begging to be clicked on.

JACKPOT.exe

Brittany grinned. This had to be it. Anything a pervert of Kess’s caliber would consider a jackpot was sure to be exactly what she was looking for. The worst of the worst. True freak material.

Certain her victory was at hand, Brittany planted the cursor on the icon and opened it up.

At once, she was blinded.

She was so stunned, it took Brittany a long moment to figure out what, exactly, had even happened. Once her eyes finally adjusted to the garish light being blasted straight into her face, she realized it was a whole bunch of bright, spinning spirals, one on each of Kess’s monitors. All took on different colors and patterns, and none were particularly impressive. They looked like the kind of cheap gifs that any cursory Google search might turn up. Was this really Kess’s jackpot? Was this the kind of thing she got off to? What a freak. 

It was already beginning to hurt Brittany’s eyes, and so instinctively she made to pull away and close them. But she didn’t move. A moment later, and Brittany realized she couldn’t move. 

She couldn’t take her eyes off the spirals.

“What the…” Brittany half-laughed to herself. “T-this is… weird? You must be… joking.”

The way her own voice sounded distant and dreamy all of a sudden was immediately disquieting. It seemed impossible, but Brittany couldn’t quite bring herself to reject the obvious thought: this was hypnosis, wasn’t it?

That was dumb. That was ridiculous! Hypnosis wasn’t real.

And yet…

Brittany made another effort to peel her gaze away from the spirals, but as she summoned her strength, she became conscious of how much of it already drained away. Against her will, her eyelids simply refused to close. It wasn’t that her eyes were locked on a single spot; rather, whenever Brittany managed to flick her eyes away from the center of one of the spirals, the remaining three were waiting right there to snatch away her focus, and seeing all of them in the shrinking corners of her vision left her too disoriented to muster herself properly.

The result was maddening; a sensory overload of hypnotic imagery that left Brittany’s head throbbing and her body going slack. She was a prisoner of the spirals. Even her usual resting bitch face was starting to slip away, replaced with an expression of drunk, awestruck captivation that Brittany was irritated to know Kess would have gotten a kick out of.

Then, the spirals began to change.

At first, Brittany thought she was imagining the brief flashes of light that appeared on the screens at rapid, irregular intervals. But as each one pricked at her, leaving her distracted and disoriented, she realized that they were real—and then, as her eyes adjusted to the constant flickering, she realized they weren’t just flashes of light. They were flashes of images.

No. Not just images. Flashes of porn.

As soon as she realized what she was looking at, Brittany found herself overwhelmed by the never-ending tide of obscene imagery being pumped into her eyeballs. Her first instinct was to recoil from it, disgusted, but the hypnotic spirals denied her even that, leaving her to do nothing but watch helplessly as it all washed over her.

Tits. Asses. Hips. Thighs. Cunts. Cocks. Armpits. Sweat. Drool. Spit. Cum. Thrusting. Pumping. Grinding. Humping. Pounding. Fucking. A cacophony of bodies, slamming into each other over and over again, or displaying themselves in poses that pushed the boundaries of eroticism and possibility further and further. After a few minutes, the barrage of pornography completely shattered Brittany’s sense of judgment. She stopped being angry at the porn, or disgusted, or irritated, or confused, or anything else.

She simply accepted it.

The spirals wouldn’t let her do anything else.

But eventually, inevitably, her body started reacting.

At least, Brittany tried to tell herself it was inevitable. With what few thoughts remained to her, she tried desperately to convince herself that the heat in her body and the itching need between her legs was nothing more than a natural, physiological reaction to seeing all these images of nudity and sex. Anyone would start feeling the way she did, even if—like her—they were a straight girl looking at porn consisting entirely of women. It wasn’t because she was actually enjoying this. It wasn’t because she had any of the same proclivities as Kess.

And it certainly wasn’t because of the words being pumped into her ears. Right?

You want porn.

You need porn.

You love porn.

You crave porn.

Once Brittany noticed the voice, she realized she wasn’t sure when, exactly, it had begun. At some point, audio had started accompanying the flashes of porn she was being shown and, like a frog in boiling water, she’d failed to notice. At first, she was pretty sure, it had been snippets from the porn itself. Moaning. Pleading. The wet, sticky sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. Then, there had been music—low, pumping, a little cheesy, as most porn music tended to be, but somehow melodic too, and deeply, deeply, relaxing.

Embedded within the music, there was a voice. Brittany could feel it reaching into her head and planting its words amongst her thoughts, there to grow like invasive weeds.

You’re obsessed with porn.

You love watching porn.

Porn makes you feel good.

Porn turns you on.

Brittany could feel it, but she couldn’t fight it. She was still being lulled into a trance by the spirals, and bombarded with obscene imagery that was only growing more and more distracting. The over-stimulation was too much. She couldn’t get a handle on any of the suggestions being poured into her ears. She tried, in vain, to fend them off; to apprehend each one, to refute it clearly, to put it aside, then brace herself for the next.

But it was useless. Her thoughts broke apart, dashed against the rocks with each flicker and flash porn, and in the resulting confusion, Brittany found herself unable to help accepting the very suggestions she was trying to keep from infecting her.

Obsessed with porn? No, of course not! She just liked porn.

Of course she did. Porn turned her on. Porn made her feel good.

No, wait.

That wasn’t right. Or was it? Didn’t everyone feel that way? Everyone looked at porn, right?

Yeah. Brittany loved watching porn. She needed it.

Maybe she was just a little bit obsessed.

And with that one thought, all the remaining components of her psyche fell like dominoes.

Brittany was obsessed with porn.

Brittany loved watching porn.

Porn made Brittany feel good.

Porn turned Brittany on.

With that new thought pattern seeping into the foundations of her mind, Brittany found it so much harder to fight what was happening to her. The process was far less distressing now. It aroused no resentment. No will to resist.

After all, she was just being shown porn, right?

And Brittany loved porn. Fuck, she really loved porn.

Her disgust now converted into fervent appreciation, Brittany was struggling to find reasons to push back against any part of what was happening to her. Sure, it was a little weird that she was being hypnotized, but could she really be angry? It was, she reasoned, a bit like being forced to sit down and watch her favorite movie. Was she truly being forced, in the end? And yes, it was strange that she’d stumbled across something like this on her sister’s computer, but it was difficult to think about that when she was distracted by the way her hard feelings toward Kess were beginning to soften.

Kess was gross. She was creepy and annoying, and Brittany wished she’d keep her masturbatory habits under tighter wraps so Brittany didn’t have to deal with them. But… could she really blame her? If Kess was guilty of anything, wasn’t it simply over-enthusiasm for her hobby?

And besides—she had good taste.

If Brittany had been free to look anywhere but at the screens and free to do anything but stare straight ahead, slack-jawed and drooling, she might have rolled her eyes and smiled ruefully. Over-enthusiastic kid sisters got on everybody’s nerves, right?

There was still part of Brittany that could sense how deeply, awfully wrong her twisting thoughts were becoming. No, it wasn’t like that at all! Kess was doing something to her. She had to be. Everything about the situation she’d found herself in was deeply, completely fucked up. But…

But Brittany loved porn. She was obsessed with porn. Porn made her feel good. Porn turned her on. All that was making the experience way, way too distracting for her anger and fear to crystallize into anything real. And all the while, the spirals kept turning and turning, glorious porn kept blaring into her eyeballs, and more suggestions kept worming their way into Brittany’s open, pliable mind.

You want to touch yourself to porn.

You need to touch yourself to porn.

You love to touch yourself to porn.

An ingrained sense of dignity and restraint tried to tell her otherwise—but in a mere moment, it was overwhelmed. Brittany was already too far gone. She was obsessed with porn, so it was only natural that she loved touching herself to it. What else did people do with porn? It was strange; Brittany could really remember ever using porn to get off much. She’d never had a reason to. But now, all of a sudden, she was certain it was one of her very favorite things.

She felt that certainty as an itch. As something kinetic and urgent, filling her limbs with energy and driving them into motion. But not to escape. Not to free herself. Just to raise her hand and, inch by inch, bring it across her thighs and toward her cunt while the suggestions became more and more insistent.

Touch yourself to porn.

Touch yourself for porn.

Always touch yourself looking at porn.

The itch doubled, and with that became all but irresistible. Brittany couldn’t keep her hand still. The words being pumped into her ears were truly becoming her own thoughts. A violent demand repeated over and over again, inside her head and out of it, redoubling moment after moment.

Brittany needed to touch herself to porn. Fuck. She needed to touch herself right now.

But she couldn’t, could she? After all, she was sitting in her little sister’s room, at her little sister’s desk. Kess could come home and walk in on her at any moment. Brittany couldn’t even begin to imagine how deathly embarrassing that would be. It was unthinkable. There was simply no way.

And yet…

The itch. Brittany needed to touch herself. To porn. For porn.

She was obsessed with it.

Part of her was still fighting to tell her that this was wrong. That she didn’t truly feel any of this. Brittany’s memories completely contradicted everything she was being told, and dwelling on them brought forth a sense of anxious dissonance that she tried to cling to in order to fight back against the brainwashing. She never looked at porn! She’d never needed to! She’d always had boyfriends or hookups. Hadn’t she always thought porn was gross? She wasn’t some porn-obsessed loser like Kess.

All of that now seemed so distant.

And in the end, it didn’t matter. The spirals and porn on the screens before her didn’t care, and their hypnotic pull was far, far too great to resist.

You’re desperate to touch yourself to porn.

You can’t resist touching yourself to porn.

Touching yourself to porn is more important than anything.

As if in anticipation of her resistance, those suggestions started repeating themselves over and over, pounding themselves into Brittany’s weak, vulnerable mind. The constant onslaught of spirals and porn was only further eroding her resistance. Each flash, each glimpse of throbbing, heaving, sweaty bodies, each long moment of feeling her brain drained into a spiral—all of them left her weaker and weaker, and allowed the brainwashing to steadily reshape her personality and her priorities.

Brittany was desperate. She was so desperate. She couldn’t contain her sheer, abject desperation as her hand began to unbutton her jeans and slip down the front of her panties. It was undeniable. She was so desperate, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

She couldn’t resist touching herself to porn.

The idea was still completely mortifying. Brittany hated thinking about it. She hated what she was about to do. It’s just that her inhibitions were no longer enough to hold her back. Her need and desperation were too great. She was their slave, and her willpower was steadily draining away to nothing. She couldn’t resist. Not for a moment longer.

Because touching herself to porn was more important than anything.

That quickly sunk in and embedded itself in Brittany’s psyche. With it, her shame abated. It simply no longer mattered to her. A dull smile spread across her face. What was she so worried about? Who cares if Kess walked in on her? This was more important.

Now that there was nothing holding her back, Brittany pushed her hand all the way into her panties and started rubbing her fingertips against her greedy, dripping cunt.

Her loud, lewd moans sounded just like the ones coming from the porn flashing on the screens in front of her.

Which was unbelievably hot. The fact that she sounded so much like porn was driving Brittany wild. She loved porn. She was obsessed with it. And the verbal suggestions coming from the speakers were quick to reinforce her pleasure.

Touching yourself to porn feels good.

Touching yourself to porn is perfect.

Touching yourself to porn is all you need.

Nothing feels better than touching yourself to porn.

Brittany nodded in eager agreement as she rubbed her pussy. There was no longer any part of her that wanted to resist, or that was capable of it. It was simply obvious; nothing felt better than this. Than touching herself to porn. And the pleasure, rising from her throat in thick, wet moans, made her all the more susceptible.

You want to look at porn all day.

You want to touch yourself to porn all day.

You want to let porn run your life.

You want to ruin yourself with porn.

Again, Brittany just nodded stupidly, gleefully committing herself to her new, humiliating fixation, with a dumb, wide, pleasure-stained grin on her face and copious loops of drool dribbling down her chin. To her hypnotized, bliss-broken mind, it was all true. She wanted to look at and touch herself to porn all day. How could she not? It felt so good. Better than anything else. She wanted to let porn run her life.

And if that would ruin her? Brittany would embrace it.

Touching herself to porn was all she needed.

You need more porn.

You need filthier porn.

You crave nasty fetish porn.

You always need more porn.

In synch with the shifting suggestions, the kinds of porn being shown to Brittany in glimpses and flashed amongst the spirals began to shift too. Instead of vanilla, familiar snippets of naked bodies and passionate but conventional couplings, an entire world of kinks and fetishes appeared on Kess’s monitors—and immediately started to blossom in Brittany’s imagination. Outfits and costumes. Bondage and choking. Feet and armpits. And besides those, countless other fetishes, ranging from the taboo to the bizarre.

Brittany touched herself to all of them. She finger-fucked her cunt impatiently; pace quickening, moans filling the air as she soaked her clothes with sweat and wetness in her desperate drive toward orgasm. None of the fetish porn she was now masturbating to gave her pause. In fact, the only gripe she had was that it wasn’t enough.

She always needed more porn.

Fortunately, Kess’s entire collection was right here to provide. All Brittany’s plans to mine it for ammunition against her little sister were long forgotten. The only thing she now cared about was using it to get off.

Touch yourself to porn all day.

Touch yourself to porn for hours.

Touch yourself to porn over and over again.

Touching yourself to porn is the only thing you care about.

Rewire your brain by touching yourself to porn.

Brittany just nodded and grunted impatiently. She no longer needed to be told. Porn was the only thing she cared about. She wanted it to rewire her. To ruin her. She no longer wanted to spare a thought for anything else. Kess could be coming home at any moment. Brittany had made plans with her college friends in just a couple of hours. She didn’t care. She already knew that, no matter what, she was going to stay sitting right there, touching herself to Kess’s porn.

Nothing could have made her happier.

For hours and hours, as Kess’s hypnosis regimen ran its course, then looped over and over again from the start, the only movement in Brittany’s little sister’s bedroom was the rhythmic motion of the formerly proud, dignified, restrained, and thoroughly normal college girl’s hand rubbing up and down against her dripping, throbbing, needy cunt.

***

By the time Kess finally came home, so many hours had passed that the sky was dark outside and Brittany’s plans with her friends had long since come and gone. Her body ached from hours of unending masturbation, and her eyes were bloodshot from so long spent staring at the four monitors in front of her.

Brittany didn’t care. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t resist. She needed to keep touching herself to porn.

The hypnotic aspects of the program playing out on Kess’s computer had abated hours ago. They had done their work. Brittany was thoroughly conditioned with her newfound obsession with porn. She no longer needed the spirals to keep her rooted to the spot. She stayed sitting at Kess’s desk willingly, because of the constant deluge of amazing, filthy, twisted fetish porn she was being shown.

It was all she cared about. She was obsessed with it. Nothing was more important to Brittany than porn. And so, when she heard the door open behind her, followed by the sound of Kess’s approaching footsteps, she didn’t stop touching herself. She didn’t even take her eyes off the screen.

“Oh my god,” came Kess’s distinctly nerdy, nasally, stammering voice. “I c-can’t believe it actually worked.”

Brittany felt herself grow hot with shame and anger as the realization hit. She was furious at Kess, and mortified at being seen—but that wasn’t more important than porn.

“You…” she panted, fingers still plunging in and out of her cunt. “This… y-you set me up?”

Kess let out a dirty, nervous giggle. “You’re always b-busting into my room. Knew you’d take a peak sometime. So I decided to set a trap.”

Brittany’s eyes widened. “You… brainwashed me.”

“Yeah.” Another dirty giggle. “Isn’t it hot?”

Brittany shivered rapturously. For a brief moment, she willed herself to disagree. She forced herself to try to fix in her head all the many, many reasons why what Kess had done to her was an unbelievably disgusting and unforgivable violation of her personal boundaries and autonomy.

It didn’t work. In no more than an instant, it had all slipped away.

Kess was right. It was so hot. All the hypnosis porn she’d been touching herself to for hours now had completely rewritten her brain. Her new fetish was all-consuming, and her new set of priorities ensured that it effortlessly outweighed all other concerns.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Brittany whined.

Her hand quickened again, bringing forth moans with her every breath. She couldn’t believe how hot it was. It was like Brittany was living out a work of porn. She couldn’t believe her luck.

"You’re really hot too,” Kess said. She was standing directly behind Brittany now, and her voice was filled with unmistakable lechery. “I’ve always w-wanted to see you like this, sis.”

The unwholesome note in her voice should have made Brittany recoil. Instead, it just made her shiver. She was trapped in a fever of arousal.

“You… always?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” Kess confirmed. Another nervous, dirty laugh. “You’re so pretty. I’ve a-always wanted us to be closer, you know. But you’re amazing, and I’m j-just a pervert.” She giggled again. “So I h-had to bring you down to my level.”

“Down to your level…” Brittany echoed faintly. She couldn’t help but find that hot, too.

“Uh-huh.” Brittany could hear the grin in Kess’s voice. Her little sister was overjoyed. “And now we f-finally have a shared interest. Something we can do together.”

She swiftly pulled over a spare chair and sat down in it, beside Brittany. Brittany could finally see her out of the corner of her eye. Usually, the sisters looked nothing alike. Brittany was tall, blonde, shapely, and pretty, while Kess was a mousy, shrunken, unkempt brunette. Now, though, the looks of lurid, feverish hedonism on their faces made them appear two of a kind.

“Here, sis,” Kess panted. “Let me h-help.”

Brittany froze when Kess reached over and touched her hand to Brittany’s thigh.

“That…” Brittany spluttered, fighting desperately to avoid the eager heat rising within her. “Kess, this… this is wrong.”

It was. It was against every taboo she’d ever been taught. Brittany should have been disgusted by the very suggestion. But she’d spent the past four hours pumping her head—among other things—incest porn, and the resulting urges effortlessly drowned Brittany’s better judgment.

It was just as she’d always known. She couldn’t resist porn.

“Do you want me to s-stop?” Kess asked, her fingers reaching closer and closer to Brittany’s cunt.

There was only one answer.

“No,” Brittany whined. “Please…”

When Kess’s fingertips reached her pussy, Brittany moaned like never before. It wasn’t just her sister’s touch. It wasn’t even the taboo. No; Brittany was swept up in rapturous awe by the very manner of her corruption. She was doing this because of porn. Because porn had made her find it hot.

She was letting porn run her life.

“Fuck,” Kess panted. “H-here. Do me.”

Using her free hand, she shucked out of her ugly, dirty sweatpants. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. That was just like her. Gross. But Brittany didn’t hesitate. She reached across and pushed two of her fingertips into her little sister’s pussy. Kess’s greedy moans soon joined Brittany’s as the two of them masturbated each other.

“Y-yeah,” Kess laughed. “Fuck. That’s right. Just like that. I t-think we’re gonna spend a lot of time like this, sis.”

Brittany just nodded. She couldn’t dream of wanting anything else.

“You have…” she panted, “so much porn.”

It was still blaring on the screens in front of her, all four at once, cycling between videos, images, animations.

“Uh-huh.” Kess was grinning proudly. “Terabytes and terabytes.”

Brittany’s whole body throbbed at the thought of all of that time, money, and effort—all given over to porn.

“T-that’s so cool,” she found herself saying pathetically.

And she meant it. For as long as she could remember, Brittany had found Kess’s porn habits as unfathomable as they were disgusting. Now, though, as she spoke to her little sister, the barest hint of awe was creeping into her voice.

“T-thanks, sis.” Kess was practically glowing with happiness. “Can’t wait to show you.”

Brittany nodded, eyes widening. All that porn. She couldn’t wait.

“No more going to school,” Kess moaned. She was touching herself faster and faster. “No more hanging out with your friends.”

“Yes,” Brittany panted eagerly.

“No more going out late,” Kess continued. It was perfectly clear that she was turned on by the thought of Brittany’s downfall—and so was Brittany herself. “No more boyfriends. No more being cool and popular.”

“Yes.” Brittany could see it now, in her mind’s eye. Her entire life, sliding into ruin. Until she had none of the things she’d always been so proud of. Her status. Her popularity. Her fashion. Until she was a gross, gooner nerd just like Kess. “Yes, yes, y-yes!”

It was driving her so crazy, she was starting to see white.

“J-just you and me, sis,” Kess moaned. “Just like this. Looking at porn. All day. Every day.”

“F-f-fuck!” Brittany cried.

“Cum.” Kess told her, licking her lips. “Break your brain for porn. Break your brain for me.”

“Fuck!”

Brittany didn’t care if anyone in the neighboring apartments heard her scream as a huge orgasm, far greater than the ones she’d been giving herself all day, tore through her and obliterated all that remained of her dignity and decency. Kess’s expert fingers helped drive it on and on, higher and higher, until all that was left of cool, popular Brittany was a mewling, moaning, sweat-drenched mess whose head was full of nothing but the most sordid, debased, porn-induced fantasies.

Just as both of them wanted.

“Hey, s-sis,” Kess said, once Brittany started to come around. “You’ve been at this for a while, huh? M-maybe we should take a break? Get some food?”

Brittany looked at her and considered it for a moment—and then shook her head. “No way, sis,” she said, grinning, as she turned her attention back to Kess’s monitors. “I could keep going for hours!”

It was all she cared about. More important than food. More important than school. More important than sleep.

Porn ran her life.

Kess simply laughed. “Knew you’d say that,” she replied. She started touching Brittany again, and Brittany obligingly started touching her. “G-good news. We’re about to hit the really good stuff.”