Chapter 10: The Sleeve's Upgrade
Anna lay on the bed as instructed, a pale mannequin against the rumpled sheets. Her eyes were open, fixed on a point in the middle distance where the pulsing wall met the twisted ceiling. Her chest rose and fell with steady, unthinking breaths. Her legs were spread, knees bent, offering everything. It was a perfect, vacant presentation.
Avery stood at the foot of the bed, looking her over. Adam knelt beside him, one hand still idly stroking his own perpetually hard cocklet, his face a mask of drugged devotion. But Avery’s focus was on Anna. On the inelegance of her current state.
“It’s good,” Avery murmured, more to himself than to Adam. “But it’s passive. A sleeve shouldn’t just lie there. It should… participate. On its own.” He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. The gold flecks within them ignited, casting a faint, shimmering light on Anna’s still form. “It should be warm. Always ready. Always hungry.”
He raised a hand. The air in the room didn’t just thicken this time; it crystallized, becoming a visible pane of distortion between his fingers and Anna’s body. Adam whimpered, feeling the pressure of the change in his teeth, in the bones of his skull. The LED strip overhead buzzed and died, plunging the room into the deep, venous amber of the walls’ own light.
Avery’s will seeped into the fabric of his sister. It wasn’t a command to her mind—there was nothing left there to command. It was a rewrite of her flesh, a direct editing of her biology.
First, the heat. A visible flush bloomed across Anna’s inner thighs and lower belly, a rosy pink that looked feverish. The air above her crotch shimmered with a new, wet warmth. Her cunt, previously just slack and open, began to glisten. Not with arousal, but with a systematic, artificial lubrication. It beaded at her entrance, welling up and spilling in a slow, constant trickle down the cleft of her ass onto the sheets. The smell changed too—less human, more like warmed honey and clean, engineered plastic.
Then, the muscles. Avery focused, his brow furrowing. Deep within Anna’s pelvis, the intricate weave of pubococcygeal muscle fiber received new programming. It wasn’t attached to her will anymore. It was attached to presence. As Avery watched, the outer lips of her pussy gave a slow, deliberate pulse, clenching around nothing. Then another. A steady, lazy rhythm of involuntary contraction, a beckoning squeeze that had nothing to do with thought or feeling.
“There,” Avery breathed, a sculptor adding a final detail. “But it should suck. It should pull. It should milk.” He made a subtle pulling motion with his fingers.
Inside Anna, the canal itself changed. The soft, ridged texture of her vaginal walls grew more pronounced, the folds deepening, arranging themselves into a perfect, spiraling topography. And they moved. A slow, peristaltic undulation began, a gentle wave-motion from the entrance inward, designed to pull anything inside deeper, to massage it, to never let it go. It was the unconscious, perfect grip of a hungry mouth.
Avery let his hand fall. The distorting pane vanished. Anna’s body continued its new functions autonomously. Her pussy glistened, pulsed, and milked the empty air. She was a perfect, self-maintaining sex toy. A living, breathing onahole.
“Beautiful,” Avery whispered. He shed his boxers, his own cock already thick and eager. He looked at Adam, whose hand had frozen on his own tiny erection, his eyes wide with a confusion that was slowly being smothered by relentless, pleasure-feedback awe.
“But I need entertainment,” Avery said, his voice light. “It’s just a thing fucking a thing otherwise. I need… appreciation. I need to see the moment it all clicks.”
He pointed at Adam. A different kind of pressure, sharp and needle-like, pierced Adam’s forehead.
The fog in Adam’s mind tore.
It was like being plunged into ice water after a lifetime in a warm bath. One second, he was a devoted toy, swimming in the grateful pleasure of his own subjugation. The next, his consciousness snapped back into itself with a painful, shattering clarity.
He was on his knees. He was naked. His hand was wrapped around a swollen, leaking, impossibly small penis that throbbed with a pleasure so intense it felt like pain. His stomach and the carpet were sticky with his own dried cum. The air smelled of sex and ozone. His sister lay on the bed, her mind gone, her body transformed into something that clenched and dripped with mechanical hunger. His brother stood, fully erect, looking at him with the cold, fascinated eyes of a god.
“Oh, Jesus,” Adam choked out. His voice was his own again, raw with horror. He tried to let go of his cocklet, but his fingers wouldn’t obey. They kept stroking, because the command to do so was baked into his spine, and the sensation was… God, it was blindingly good. The horror and the pleasure collided, creating a nauseating dissonance. “Avery… what did you do? What did you do to me? To her?”
“I gave you purpose,” Avery said calmly. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between Anna’s spread legs. He didn’t enter her yet. He just watched Adam break. “And I perfected hers. But your purpose requires understanding, Adam. It requires you to choose it, from a place of clarity. So… choose.”
Adam sobbed. He dragged his left hand across his face, trying to wipe away the tears, but his right hand continued its filthy, efficient work on his dick. The pleasure built, a cresting wave that made his vision sparkle. “Stop it,” he begged, to Avery, to his own body. “Make it stop. Please, make it stop!”
“But it feels so good, doesn’t it?” Avery cooed. He lowered himself, the head of his cock nudging against Anna’s slick, pulsing entrance. It was already beaded with her artificial wetness. The spiral of her inner muscles gripped the tip, sucking it in a fraction of an inch with a soft, wet sound. Avery groaned. “Fuck. She’s perfect. She just takes it.”
He pushed forward, sinking into Anna in one smooth, deep stroke. Her body accepted him utterly. The clenching, milking pressure was instantaneous, a perfect, velveteen vise that rhythmically squeezed and pulled at his length. Her back arched slightly, a pre-programmed response, but her face remained empty, her eyes unseeing.
Adam watched, his mind screaming. This was his sister. Her mind was gone, and her body was being used like a flashlight. And he was here, jerking his pathetic micro-cock, unable to stop, feeling another orgasm building in his balls despite his revulsion.
“See how she works?” Avery grunted, beginning to move, pulling out almost all the way before plunging back into that wet, gripping heat. Each thrust was met with that automatic, sucking contraction. “No fuss. No messy emotions. Just a perfect, warm, hungry hole. This is all she is now. This is all she’ll ever be.”
“You’re a monster,” Adam spat, tears streaming down his face. His hips began to buck involuntarily into his own fist. The orgasm was coming, a treasonous tide rising from his ruined body. “You’re a fucking monster!”
“And you’re about to come,” Avery observed, his pace increasing. The slapping of his hips against Anna’s flesh, the wet, rhythmic squelch of her engineered cunt, filled the room. “You’re going to come, staring at your sister getting fucked, unable to control your own body. What does that make you?”
The question lanced through Adam’s crumbling resistance. What did it make him? He was a participant. A willing one, on some deep, animal level. His body loved this. His nerves sang for it. The shame was a fire, but the pleasure was the oxygen. He was coming, his pathetic cocklet pulsing, shooting another weak, clear spurt over his clenched knuckles. A wail of utter despair was torn from his throat.
As the orgasm ripped through him, Avery’s voice cut through the haze, low and hypnotic. “That’s it. Good boy. That’s your function. To feel good serving me. To come when I show you your place. Watch. Watch your sister be my perfect sleeve. And know that you’re better than her. You have a mind. You can appreciate this. You can love this.”
Adam’s mind, raw and shattered from the sudden return to sanity, was uniquely vulnerable. The intense, relentless pleasure from his cocklet was a neurological bludgeon. Avery’s words weren’t just heard; they were etched into the wet cement of his psyche, each syllable syncopated with the rhythmic slap of flesh and the gushing squeeze of Anna’s transformed pussy.
“You chose this,” Avery chanted, his own breath becoming ragged as he fucked faster, deeper into the helpless, milking warmth. “You told me not to change it back. You wanted to be my toy. You love being my toy. It’s your highest purpose. Your only purpose. Look at her. She’s just a hole. You… you are my treasure. My conscious, grateful treasure.”
Adam’s sobs quieted. His horrified gaze, locked on the junction where Avery disappeared into their sister, began to soften. The pleasure from his own touch, now building again with terrifying speed, was a siren song. Avery’s narrative was a ladder out of the horror. If he embraced it, if he chose it, the cognitive dissonance would stop. The pain would stop. Only the pleasure, and the purpose, would remain.
“I…,” Adam gagged, trying to resist.
“You love your little cock,” Avery insisted, his voice brooking no argument. The room itself seemed to pulse with the statement. “You love how it feels. You love how it makes you mine. Say it.”
The fight left Adam in a final, shuddering exhale. The hypnotic rhythm of the sex, the overpowering sensory feedback from his own groin, the crushing weight of the truth—he had chosen this—collapsed his sanity back into a new, willing shape.
“I love it,” Adam whispered, the words tasting like both poison and salvation. His stroking hand became eager again, devoted. “I love my cock. It’s for you. It makes me yours.”
“Again!” Avery commanded, pounding into Anna, whose body now rocked with the force, her tits bouncing, her mouth still slack.
“I LOVE IT!” Adam shouted, the declaration shattering the last of his old self. He came again, screaming, his body convulsing with a pleasure that was now fully integrated, a celebration of his own subjugation. He did not look away from the fucking. He devoured it with his eyes, each thrust a lesson, each wet sound a hymn.
Avery saw the shift, the final surrender in Adam’s eyes. It was even sweeter than the first time, because it was a conscious surrender. He’d broken him twice. He’d given him his mind back just to watch him willingly give it away again.
With a guttural roar, Avery came, burying himself to the hilt in Anna’s clutching, milking cunt. He pulsed inside her, his orgasma drawn out by the relentless, sucking pressure of her transformed body. It seemed to pull the very essence from him. He slumped over her, spent.
Beneath him, Anna’s body continued its gentle, automatic contractions, milking him dry. She made no sound. Her eyes were dry.
Avery rolled off, lying beside her on the bed. He looked at Adam, who was panting on the floor, a pool of his own release beneath him, his hand still weakly stroking his deflated but already re-hardening cocklet. His eyes were glazed, worshipful, and utterly peaceful.
“Come here, toy,” Avery said softly, patting the space on the bed beside Anna.
Adam crawled up, moving like a well-trained pet. He nestled against Avery’s side, his head on his brother’s chest, his fingers idly toying with his own sensitive flesh.
Avery stared at the breathing ceiling, one hand in Adam’s hair, the other resting on Anna’s cool, motionless stomach. He felt the faint, internal clutch of her cunt even now, a phantom echo. He had a perfect, self-cleaning sleeve. He had a conscious, worshipful toy. The room hummed around them, a testament to his will.
He wondered, idly, what to perfect next.
He wondered, idly, what to perfect next. The answer arrived not as a thought, but as a compulsion—a need to drill his work deeper, past flesh and into the bedrock of their consciousness. Silence was no longer enough. He required affirmation, a constant audio loop to match the physical ones he’d engineered.
“Sit up,” he said, his voice casual. Adam detached from his side with fluid obedience, settling cross-legged on the bed. Anna remained supine, her cunt making a soft, wet sound as it clenched rhythmically around nothing. Avery placed a hand on each of their foreheads. Their skin was warm. “Now, you’re going to learn your prayers. You’ll repeat them until the words are truer than your own heartbeat.”
He poured the concepts directly into their slack minds, sculpting the phrases with the same precision he’d used on Anna’s anatomy. For Adam, it was about gratitude for his reduction. For Anna, it was an acknowledgment of pure utility. Their voices, when they began, were flat and unison.
“I am my brother’s toy,” Adam droned, his eyes glassy, fixed on Avery’s knee. His right hand lay still in his lap, his tiny cock a dark, leaking centerpiece. “My worth is my obedience. My pleasure is his command.”
From Anna, a softer, hollow echo. “I am my brother’s sleeve. My purpose is to be filled. My body is for his use.”
“Again,” Avery whispered. He positioned himself between Anna’s legs once more, his cock already swelling at the sight of her glistening, automated heat. He slid into her with a contented sigh, the familiar sucking pull seizing him instantly. The dual mantra continued, a metronome for his thrusts.
“I am my brother’s toy. My worth is my obedience.” Adam’s voice gained a faint, rhythmic cadence, his hips beginning to rock subtly, humping the empty air. “My pleasure is his command.”
“I am my brother’s sleeve. My purpose is to be filled.” Anna’s chant was breathier, each hard drive of Avery’s pelvis punching a syllable from her lungs. “My body is for his use.”
Avery fucked her with deep, measured strokes, captivated by the symphony of it—the wet squelch of her engineered pussy, the slap of skin, the monotonous hymns of his siblings. He watched a string of saliva gather on Anna’s lower lip with each impact. He reached over and smeared it across her cheek.
“Louder,” he grunted, his pace quickening. The milking pressure inside Anna intensified, as if responding to his order.
Their voices rose, blending into a single, chilling channel of submission. Adam’s hands clutched at his own thighs, his knuckles white, but he didn’t touch himself. He just humped the air and chanted, caught in a feedback loop of verbal and kinetic devotion. “I AM MY BROTHER’S TOY. MY WORTH IS MY OBEDIENCE. MY PLEASURE IS HIS COMMAND.”
Avery’s climax coiled, fed by their proclamations. The door to the hallway, left slightly ajar, shifted then. A shadow fell across the distorted light from the hall. Lena, their sister, paused on her way to the linen closet. Her eyes scanned the room.
Avery felt her perception like a radio signal. He didn’t look, didn’t break his rhythm. He simply flexed that part of his will that bent reality, softening the edges of the scene before it could cohere in her mind. The raw, obscene picture—her brother pistoning into her mindless sister while her other brother chanted and humped the air—dissolved and reassembled into something palatable, something her psyche could digest without breaking.
Lena’s hand rested on the doorframe, her brow slightly furrowed. The scene in Avery’s room resolved into a familiar, comfortable composition. Avery was sitting on the edge of his bed, one arm around Adam’s shoulders in a fraternal, almost tutorial embrace. Adam was nodding, listening intently to whatever Avery was explaining, his posture one of eager focus. On the bed beside them lay Anna, perfectly still.
Lena’s eyes skimmed over her sister. She saw the shape of a person, but her mind refused to engage with it as a sibling. The details—the glistening between Anna’s legs, the slow, rhythmic pulse of her inner muscles, the absolute vacancy in her eyes—registered only as indistinct background data, like the pattern on a discarded cushion. Her brain categorized the object on the bed as one of Avery’s peculiar, life-sized silicone toys. He’d always been into strange collector’s items. A little vulgar, perhaps, but he was an adult.
“Everything okay in here?” Lena asked, her voice infused with the weary, managerial tone she’d used since their parents left. “I thought I heard… chanting.”
Avery didn’t stop moving. His hips continued their steady, deep rhythm, sinking his cock into the warm, clutching sheath of the toy. He turned his head toward the door, his expression one of calm authority. “Just helping Adam work through some things. He’s been struggling with direction. We’re establishing some core principles.”
Lena’s gaze shifted to Adam. His lips were moving silently, his eyes glazed with concentration. He was rocking slightly, a nervous energy. She saw a young man benefiting from his older brother’s guidance, nothing more. The faint, damp spot on his shorts was just sweat from earnest discussion. “Right. Well, keep it down. It’s late.” Her eyes flicked to the toy again, a mild flicker of distaste crossing her features. “And maybe put that thing away when you’re done. It’s… unhygienic to leave it lying around.”
“It serves a purpose,” Avery said, his voice even. He gave a particularly slow, emphatic thrust, and the toy’s body jiggled. A soft, wet squelch echoed in the room. “It’s designed for function. For training. Adam is learning about focus, about channeling his energies into productive obedience.”
Lena nodded, accepting the logic as if he’d explained a new study technique. She saw the master of the house imparting wisdom. The fact that he was fucking a synthetic vagina during the lesson was irrelevant, a quirk of his methodology. “Just don’t let him neglect his chores. The trash needs to go out tomorrow.”
“He won’t,” Avery assured her, a faint smile on his lips. “Adam understands his responsibilities now, don’t you?”
Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes finding Lena’s but seeing through her. “Yes. My worth is my obedience. My pleasure is his command.” The words were flat, toneless.
Lena heard only a young man parroting a self-help mantra. A bit odd, but Avery had always been the philosophical one. “Good. Okay. Well, goodnight then.” She pulled the door closed, the latch clicking softly into place. Her footsteps retreated down the hall, the domestic concern entirely satisfied.
The moment the door shut, the atmosphere in the room snapped back into its true, suffocating clarity. Avery’s calm mask dissolved into a grin of pure, wicked triumph. He looked down at Adam, whose silent chanting had grown more fervent. “You hear that? She sees you learning. She sees me teaching. That’s all this will ever be to anyone now.”
He grabbed a handful of Adam’s hair, forcing his head down toward the junction of his hips and the toy that was their sister. “Look at it. Look at the perfect, wet hole you’re supposed to worship. You want to try, don’t you? You want to feel what I feel.”
Adam moaned, his hands clawing at his own thighs. “Please. I want to. I want to serve.”
“Then get your mouth on it. Clean her up. Get her ready for you.”
Avery pulled out of Anna with a slick, sucking pop. Her inner muscles visibly clenched for a moment, milking the air, a thin strand of mixed fluids connecting his cock to her glistening entrance. He pushed Adam’s face forward.
Adam didn’t hesitate. He lunged, his tongue lapping broad, desperate stripes over Anna’s swollen folds, lapping up the evidence of their brother’s use. The taste—salty, musky, with a faint, unnatural sweetness from her engineered lubrication—flooded his mouth. He groaned into her cunt, his nose buried in her coarse pubic hair, his own tiny cock jerking and leaking in his shorts. He worshipped the opening with sloppy, hungry strokes, his fingers digging into her thighs to hold her still.
“That’s it,” Avery whispered, stroking himself, watching Adam’s utter debasement. “Make it shine for you. It’s your turn to use the family toy.”
When Avery decided Anna was sufficiently cleaned, he hauled Adam up by the hair. “Now. Fuck it. Claim your purpose.”
Adam fumbled with his shorts, shoving them down past his knees. His cocklet, a swollen, purple-red nub, bobbed angrily, dripping a constant clear seepage. He was so small. He positioned himself at Anna’s entrance, which pulsed and glistened, already beading with fresh wetness as if anticipating him.
He pushed. The head of his minuscule dick slipped into that overwhelming, velvety heat. The automatic, spiraling suction gripped him instantly, a perfect, milking pressure that was designed for a much larger cock. For Adam, it was a totality of sensation. His eyes rolled back in his head. A shattered cry left his lips.
“It’s too much,” he gasped, his hips stuttering. “It’s pulling me… it’s sucking my mind out…”
“That’s the point, you pathetic fuck-toy,” Avery growled, kneeling beside him, his own cock hard again. “It’s going to milk your little brain right through your pathetic little dick. Now move. Fuck your sister’s cunt like the worthless bitch-boy you are.”
Adam tried to thrust. The motion was minuscule, his short length allowing only the shallowest penetration, but the toy’s internal mechanics did the rest. Each tiny push was met with a deep, welcoming clutch that pulled him deeper, each withdrawal was a sensual, resisting drag. The pleasure was astronomical, a supernova in his groin that erased every other neural pathway. He fucked her with frantic, shallow pumps, slobber dripping from his mouth, chanting between ragged breaths. “Myworthismyobediencemypleasureishiscommandmyworthismyobedience…”
Avery watched, enthralled, then moved behind Adam. He spat into his palm and slicked his own length. He pressed the broad head against Adam’s tight, clenched hole.
Adam went rigid, a fresh wave of terror and ecstasy silencing his chant. “No… not there… please…”
“Every hole serves,” Avery stated, and pushed forward, breaching him with a single, brutal, tearing shove.
Adam screamed, a high, ragged sound, as he was filled from both ends. His sister’s cunt sucked rhythmically on his tiny cock while his brother’s massive one split him open, stretching him obscenely. The pain from his ass was sharp and fiery, but it was quickly subsumed by the relentless, pleasure feedback from his front. The two sensations merged into a single, devastating current of total submission. He was a conduit, a living flesh-light being used exactly as designed.
Avery set a punishing pace, pounding into Adam’s ass, each thrust slamming Adam’s small body harder onto Anna’s still form. The wet, slapping sounds of sodomy mixed with the softer, squelching rhythm of the toy’s constant suction. Avery reached around and grabbed Adam’s pitiful cocklet, pinching and twisting the oversensitive nub in time with his thrusts.
“You’re nothing but a set of holes!” Avery grunted into his ear. “A sleeve for my cock and a handle to fuck this other sleeve with. This is your entire universe. This is your perfect, final shape.”
Adam came, his body seizing. His orgasm was a dry, agonizing spasm, his ruined cocklet pulsing out a few last, clear drops onto Anna’s stomach as Avery’s relentless pounding continued. His vision tunneled. The chants in his mind dissolved into a static shriek of yesyesyesmasterplease.
Avery followed, his own climax roaring up from his balls. He buried himself to the hilt in Adam’s ravaged ass, pumping his seed deep inside, marking his property internally. He held himself there, pulsing, as he watched Adam’s limp form shudder atop their sister.
Finally, he pulled out. Adam collapsed sideways onto the bed, a broken doll, his breath coming in whimpers. Avery looked between them—the mindless sleeve, the conscious, shattered toy. A slow smile spread across his face. The house was quiet. Lena was undisturbed. His kingdom was secure, its foundations laid in flesh and acceptance.
He lay back, the ceiling stars swirling in their alien constellations. The work, he thought, was going very well indeed. Tomorrow, he would think of something new.