**If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.** LogMeInside (m/f teen, MC, NC, inc, mast.) By Rzrsej My brother’s always been nothing but an ass. A brilliant ass, it’s true, but an ass just the same. I’ll never forgive him for what he did to me. It changed my whole life; I’ll never know who I might have been. If you’ve ever used LogMeIn.com, you know that it allows one computer to clone another. That is, you can your latptop to log into your desktop PC whenever you want. Not only are you logged in, you are actually operating that PC through your laptop. If someone were to be watching your PC at that point, it would seem like the cursor was moving on its own, programs beginning and ending without any apparent reason. Somehow, I’m not really sure how, my brother managed to adapt that idea to flesh and blood human beings. I know, that seems bizarre, but I can tell you from experience that its true. He sits in his disgusting little room, or anywhere I else I suppose, and with the aid of a modified Ipad, he can access any person he chooses. You know he’s in there, you can feel him inside of you, and you can even try to fight against the mental intrusion, but it does no good. You do and say whatever he wishes; and believe me, what he wishes is sick. I’m sick I suppose, because I’ve done it all, I’ve seen it all and felt it all. And, God help me, I’ve learned to love it. I can still remember the time when I was innocent and not a day goes by when I don’t long for those times. But they are long gone, and I can never go back. I suppose it’s a good thing Mike has no interest in power – well traditional sorts of power anyway, politics I mean. If he decided to take over the president’s body, he could easily do it. But I guess a fourteen year old boy isn’t likely to be interested in those sorts of things. Oh, he’s managed to get my parents to get him whatever he wants, but his real desires are always sexual, and he stays pretty much obsessed with getting himself off. I’ll never forget that first night. He seemed to have very little idea of what he was doing – which only made it all must worse: a lot of clumsy fumbling in my brain. I knew instantly he was there, like a kind of ESP or something. Not words, but feelings, images, emotions – and clear enough to know someone’s inside of you. My first impulse was to scream out, and I managed to get out a strangled cry at any rate: his control simply wasn’t strong enough yet. I could feel him laugh, though, and his grip on my mind tightened. I never managed to use my own voice again when he was inside. My efforts only made him laugh the harder, though. Like having your brother pin you down and tickle you. He was a year younger than me, so I had been stronger for most of our lives, but in the last year or so he had managed to overpower me occasionally with his growing muscles and increased weight. He had something different in mind than tickling this time, though. I could almost feel his tongue hanging out as I found my own hands squeezing my tits hard. I pinched my fifteen year old nipples until I flinched. That got his attention – my pain was his pain, and he could feel it too. It didn’t stop him entirely. But he did shift his efforts so that he never pushed the pain beyond what I could stand. It was always a kind of balancing act: pushing my pain and discomfort enough so that he could enjoy it but never going so far that it really hurt. My emotional unease, though, he didn’t seem to mind at all. I wasn’t so horrified at feeling myself up – I’d certainly felt my own boobs before, and once or twice even squeezed my nipples a bit. I masturbate as much as any 15 year old girl. But it was a completely different matter to have someone controlling my hands. It was virtually the same as someone else touching me, and not just any someone, but my disgusting brother, with his oily hair and his tendency to avoid showers. He sat me up then, and had me pull my t-shirt over my head and off. I looked down, then, at my own chest, my B-cup breasts and the dime-sized nipples standing at attention. I cupped them, and pressed them together, feeling their weight and delighting in how they soft, smooth, and creamy they appeared. Or rather, my brother felt these things. Of course, I did too, but his emotions were dominant. Apparently not satisfied with simply feeling them and looking at them from above, he stood me up and walked me over to the full length mirror on the wall. I ogled myself leeringly, even my face resembling a horny fourteen year old boy’s in its expression, my tongue practically hanging out of my mouth. I stood before the mirror in my bare feet, in a pair of red boxer shorts, my boobs hanging there beneath my blonde hair. It was obscene – not the view. Again, it wasn’t like I hadn’t admired my own body naked before. But this was significantly different: inside me I felt a kind of lust for my own body, something I’d never felt before, never even heard anyone else describe before. I was horny for myself. And then there was the feelings of my brother beneath, his own horniness, the sense of his cock pulsing in response to my body. And too I could feel the complicated urges of incest inside him, the guilt mixed with lust, and I felt my own sense of guilt in a weird way, a kind of incestuous feeling for myself. Inside me he laughed these feelings away and almost in a hurry, pushed the boxers off my hips and down to the floor. I could feel his surprise and a bit of disappointment that my pubic hair wasn’t as blonde as the hair on my head. It was blond-ish, and if I do say so myself, pretty trim. I didn’t have a great deal of hair yet, and I kind of liked the way the curls seemed to sit there soft between my legs. But it’s nothing like the light color of my hair. For the first time, I tried talking back to him in my mind – again, not with words exactly, but I made my thoughts clear enough: “They don’t always match exactly, dumbass.” In response, he smacked my ass with my own hand, hard enough to leave a read mark. Then he simply grinned and moved his hand to my belly, running his fingers through my pubic hair and slipping a finger down between my legs. I felt my finger slip inside my cunt, and push as far as it could. He seemed fascinated by the slippery wetness of it, moving my finger around so that it touched ever part of the walls within. Pulling it back out, he used all his fingers to explore around the opening, touching the labia, pushing them apart, running his fingers between them. As he explored, he began to become more attuned to my own feelings, the places more sensitive than others, what seemed to arouse me. And he began to explore these more carefully, his own arousal mapped onto mine. He lay me down on the floor, spread my legs, and began to masturbate me in earnest. The feelings were overpowering – I had never had sex, never been naked in front of anyone – and though I was doing all of this to myself in a way, there was the undeniable feeling of someone else’s presence, of sharing the experience with another. It was incestuous, and in almost every sense of the phrase, non-consensual. And yet I did it to myself, which only deepened my shame to almost unbearable proportions. One hand moved to the hole, the finger moving in and out. The middle finger of the left hand moved to my clit and began rubbing slowly and gently. In was lost in the tangle of feelings, the push of emotions, and I had begun to come in less than three minutes. My hands squeezed together around my hands and pressed my fingers tightly into my groin as the waves of come hit me over and over. And through the shame, I was overcome with the sensuality of it all, abandoning myself to the feelings. All I wanted now was to lie still, feeling my orgasm abate and relaxing. I should have known better. Something in Mike wasn’t set up to let me enjoy the experience. It wasn’t enough to humiliate me, to satisfy his own prurient urges, or to have an orgasm with and through his own sister. He wanted more. He stood me up again and now it was pure humiliation he was after. Taking another long look at my body in the mirror, he had me dance. First sensuously, my body undulating obscenely in front of the mirror, my hands holding my breasts and then pressing my pussy forward and back. I turned slowly, wiggling my own ass in front of the mirror, leaning over so that my asshole and pussy were clearly in view. But then, as if that wasn’t enough, he had me skip about like a child, dancing foolishly, prancing almost, my boobs jiggling as I tripped about the room. The more embarrassed I felt, the more he laughed. “Please, stop,” I prayed internally. “You got what you want. Let me go, now.” “Not quite, sis,” he chuckled. I got down on my hands and knees then, my butt to the mirror, and looking around at myself, I used one hand to run over the cheeks. Then, to my own horror, I took a finger and pushed it into the hole, all the way to the second knuckle. I had never even considered doing something like this before, and I couldn’t believe I was doing it now. Recognizing this, Mike took things one step further, pulling the finger out and forcing it into my mouth. I say forcing, though I’m not sure anyone watching would have known it. My tongue, not under my control, seemed to take relish in the musky taste of my own ass. I lay down on my side then, moving one finger back behind to my asshole again, and the other down my front to my pussy, rubbing furiously. Despite my own shame, I was actually feeling horny again, and once again it took almost no time for me to come, this time even more strongly than before, so strongly that in my lust for my own body I shoved my finger into my ass as far as it would go, impaling myself on it. As the waves began to subside, Mike had me bring both hands up to my mouth and had me suck deliciously at my own juices. I shuddered involuntarily in disgust, a shudder even Mike couldn’t control, but the ecstasy of the orgasm was amazing. And just like that he was gone from my mind. I was left to lie there naked on the my bedroom floor, the orgasm receding rapidly and the shame completely filling me in its place.