Tutor
by Pan
Chapter 3:
Kayla paused.
Something was happening.
For the last few days, she’d been feeling...different.
Mostly a good different. Ever since starting college, she’d been having trouble sleeping, but over the last week or so her insomnia had all but disappeared, and she’d finally been able to get a decent amount of shut-eye.
She wasn’t sure what was behind the change, she just felt more...relaxed. More comfortable.
It had helped that she’d stopped wearing a bra at home, of course. She felt more comfortable without a bra. But she’d never worn a bra to bed, so why would that have affected her sleep?
It didn’t matter. Whatever the reason for her newfound comfort, Kayla wasn’t going to complain. She was sleeping better, she was more relaxed, she found her mind looping through the same stressful thoughts much less often...
So what was wrong?
Her brother was sitting across the room, playing on his phone. As she stared at him, he looked up at her, and Kayla realized—that was what had prompted this thought in the first place. Her brother’s gaze.
She stayed perfectly still as his eyes slowly swept her body. Kayla was wearing a tank-top and a pair of flannel pajama pants she’d picked up to sleep in. The tank-top wasn’t particularly see-through—it wasn’t thin, but her nipples were large enough to be visible.
Normally Kayla would’ve objected to the idea that her brother could see the outline of her nipples, but her brother’s gaze wasn’t sexual. If he looked at her, it was because it made him happy.
And it felt good to make people feel good.
His gaze paused on her heavy breasts for a while before moving down to her hips. Again, she stayed frozen, letting him look. As her brother’s eyes moved down her body, she felt herself flush slightly.
She liked her brother appreciating her body.
Her brother’s gaze wasn’t sexual, but it felt great. It was like iring a piece of art; he could appreciate her aesthetically. It made her feel...attractive?
No. No, that wasn’t right.
With a shrug, Kayla let the thought go. Don’t overthink. When her brother was staring at her, it meant he liked what he was seeing. It meant he liked her body, and it was nice to be appreciated.
It made Kayla feel good, knowing that her body was bringing her brother pleasure.
She liked making people she love feel good. Best not to overthink it.
When Kayla started writing again, my sigh of relief was so heavy it almost blew her paper off the table. My heart was pounding as I watched her finish the questions, then turn back to me for her next instructions.
She didn’t look suspicious or upset. My command hadn’t landed (I assumed; I mean, I didn’t know how else to interpret that head-shake) but it also hadn’t...I dunno, activated a sleeper switch that turned her into a Russian assassin.
Not that there’d been a serious risk of that happening.
Freudenberger was German, after all.
“Okay,” I said, trying desperately to sound normal. Perhaps too desperately, but it seemed to work. “So, Euler’s constant...”
As I explained the exponential series and its properties, I watched my sister closely. Her gaze was glassy, as it always was during lessons—not glassy in a “she’s totally under my command” way, but more in a “she’s learning math, one of her least favorite ways to spend time” way.
But she once more didn’t object to me explaining something I knew she already knew, and as she started on the next set of problems, I had mustered the courage to try again.
“If your brother stares at you, that means he likes what he’s seeing.”
Nod. Almost no hesitation this time; I guess this was just building on “If your brother looks at you, it’s because it makes him happy”, which she’d eventually accepted.
“If he likes what he’s seeing,” I said slowly, forming the sentence as I spoke—something that had backfired earlier, but time was running short, and I wanted to make sure that everything I told my sister was internally consistent. “...that means there’s something to like.”
A longer pause this time, but again Kayla responded with a nod.
“It means he likes your body,” I continued.
Nod. Faster than I was expecting, to be honest, until I ed that I’d already established that my gaze wasn’t sexual.
Maybe that was a good direction to expand upon.
“Your brother can appreciate you aesthetically. It’s not sexual, it’s like iring a piece of art.”
A longer pause this time, but just as she finished the last question, my sister nodded. She looked up at me with a smile.
“Okay, last few,” I said, handing her the last worksheet I’d printed out. As she started work, I quickly fired off some more rhythmically-delivered commands.
“It’s nice to be appreciated.” Nod. “It makes you feel good, knowing that your body is bringing your brother pleasure.” Nod; surprisingly fast.
I considered explicitly instructing her to seek out opportunities for me to enjoy her body, but...again, my sister is pretty bright. I didn’t need to spell it out for her; if something brought her joy, it was reasonable to assume she’d pursue it.
Kayla was reaching the end of the page, and I was still worried that I’d missed something. My sister is smart; if she started acting strangely, I was sure she’d analyze it, work out why she her behavior had changed.
It wasn’t like she’d jump straight to “my brother is using a hypnotic method he learned from his old saxophone teacher to slowly make me want to show off my body to him”, but....well. The metronome, the sudden change in how she dressed at home, enjoying my attention...it wasn’t a huge leap to assume I had something to do with her change in behavior. You wouldn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to put the puzzle pieces together, and my sister—while no Sherlock Holmes—was far from an idiot.
I needed to come up with the perfect phrase, something that would allay any suspicions that formed in her mind. I needed to put the perfect bow on everything that I’d done today.
Just as she was finishing the last question, I smiled. I had it:
“Don’t overthink,” I instructed simply, and after another worryingly long pause...my sister nodded.
The next few days were great. My instructions for my sister had worked better than I could have anticipated; she looked more relaxed than I could ever seeing her.
At first I was worried that my last command had, like, made her stupid, but after challenging her to a game of Boggle, that theory was dead in the water. Kayla was just as quick-witted as she’d always been. In fact, I think she actually played better than before—maybe she normally gets stuck on trying to make a particularly long work, and ‘don’t overthink’ was exactly what she needed to improve her game?
She was dressing down even more than before. She wasn’t walking around topless or anything like that (yet…) but she was lounging around in more revealing clothes than she normally would.
Without a bra.
For the first couple of days, I was subtle with my glances. I’d flick my eyes down if she was showing cleavage, or I’d give her a brief once-over when she entered the room. It was the most I dared do, until I was sure of her reaction.
Kayla didn’t even seem to notice, at least not consciously. But her voice would have a hint of pleasure after I quickly checked her out, or a tiny blush would appear on her cheeks.
And so I began to escalate.
If Kayla’s nipples were even remotely visible, I’d keep my eyes on them for more than a few seconds. If she was wearing a pair of jeans that made her ass look good (aka all of them) I’d let my eyes linger for longer than a brother should as she walked in the room.
And if my sister was wearing something low-cut, I’d actively stare. At first just for a little...but after I first saw her notice (and enjoy) my attention, I’d keep staring for as long as I wanted.
Well, not as long as I wanted, else we’d have been there for years.
My sister’s reaction was always positive. She never objected or seemed grossed out; quite the opposite. The longer I looked, the more pleasure it seemed to give her.
Not sexual pleasure (yet!). Just the pleasure of being appreciated—like if a one of her female friends had complimented her on something she was wearing. She’d blush, smile...one time I kept my eyes on her tits for long enough that she actually giggled.
But it was obvious that she didn’t see my attention as sexual. And she never acted like I was being inappropriate.
Once or twice I saw a glimpse of confusion on her face, but just as quickly she’d shrug it off and go back to enjoying my attention. Attention that I was more than happy to give.
By the end of the week, she was actively posing for me. I’d enter the room and she’d make sure I had the best possible view of what she had to offer, staying perfectly still as my eyes roamed her body, feasting on her plentiful curves and contours.
Had I left it a little longer, I’m sure that the dopamine I was providing would’ve motivated her to come looking for me. I don’t know how far it would’ve gone...you know if you have a friend who always makes you feel good, you’ll go out of your way to spend time with them?
I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d started waking up to find Kayla outside my room, ready for my attention. Ready for me to openly ogle her without triggering even a hint of suspicion.
But I was confident that my plan was working, and I was ready for the next step. I knew she wouldn’t start dressing more revealingly; she didn’t see my attention as sexual, so there was no reason to think that dressing more sexually would’ve inspired more. Maybe I could’ve done a Pavlovian thing—given her more attention when she showed more skin, shaped her choice of dress over time...
But why bother with second-level manipulations when I could just go in there and add the preferences directly?
“It’s safe to show more skin at home.”
The pause went on long enough that I was sure it was going to end in a shake of the head, but finally Kayla nodded. She must have really had to think about it...but without overthinking it?
Had I found a loophole?
“Don’t question my instructions,” I instructed. Kayla paused once more, but after over a minute of pondering my words...shook her head.
Yeah. Okay. Nothing’s ever that easy, is it?
My instructions not to overthink things apparently only affected her outside of these study sessions. Although...no, that didn’t make sense. I’d seen Mr. Freudenberger give instructions that had been immediately, enthusiastically obeyed.
I decided to ponder on that later. Right now, there was something else I wanted to do.
We’d moved on from calculus to trigonometry, my sister’s weak spot. Supposedly men are better at spatial reasoning—something to do with us being hunters while women are gatherers (which is why they’re better at color identification) or something like that. I got her to start plotting dots onto a graph while I continued.
“You like your brother appreciating your body.” Nod. “It feels great.” Nod. “You enjoy it so much, you should show more of your body off to him.” A pause—not worryingly long, but still long—and then a nod.
Again, I could have kept going and been more explicit, but I trusted my sister to follow the breadcrumbs. I’d let her natural brightness take her the rest of the way in that direction; there was another angle I wanted to use my time exploring.
“You like men’s bodies.” Quick nod. Mr. Freudenberger’s lessons had demonstrated that this would work even if Kayla hadn’t been straight, but it certainly made things easier. “You can appreciate them aesthetically as well as sexually.” Again, immediate nod. Nothing too controversial so far, just laying the groundwork to make sure I wasn’t making any assumptions.
I mean, I knew my sister had dated guys before, but...I dunno, maybe she was secretly gay? Or asexual? Or something else? I just wanted to be sure.
“Men’s bodies are attractive.” Nod. “Your brother is a man.” Nod, though there was a longer pause than I would’ve liked. “You can appreciate your brother’s body...—”
“What?”
My eyes widened. Kayla was looking straight at me, her eyebrows furrowed.
Shit.
Kayla stared at her brother. She’d just finished marking the position of the final point on the graph when she noticed him saying something in a strange, rhythmic tone.
“What?” she asked, her eyes flicking between his and the paper in front of her. Was he talking about the graph? she wondered. No...no, that didn’t make sense.
He had a weird, flustered look on his face. “You okay?”
“Sorry,” he gasped. “Swallowed a fly.”
The office had an old-fashioned water cooler in the corner—Kayla couldn’t have said the last time anyone used it, but apparently it still worked, because her brother managed to stagger over to pour himself a glass of water. Her eyes never left him as he made his way across the room.
When had my brother become a man?
“What were you saying about your body?” she asked, once he’d returned to the desk.
“My body of work,” he replied, gesturing to the table.
Kayla went to throw him a look, but got distracted as his eyes dropped to her cleavage. She wasn’t wearing a bra; she liked to feel comfortable when she was at home. She couldn’t help but smile at the attention. It’s nice to be appreciated.
She liked her brother appreciating her body.
Forgetting exactly what they had been talking about, Kayla rolled her eyes. “You’re such a weirdo. Let’s get back to work.”
The next set of points were even more challenging than the first, and Kayla had to stop and ponder the problems several times.
As she did, she could feel part of her brain wanting to go down the rabbit hole: What if I never get the hang of this? What if I can’t make it through aviation school? What if I have to drop out and never achieve my goal of becoming a pilot?
But she was able to push the thoughts back each time.
Don’t overthink.
She immediately felt a calmness descend on her. The anti-overthinking thought, in combination with how comfortable she felt without a bra, allowed her to stop spiraling and focus on the next question without issue.
Once she was done, Kayla leaned back. “Thanks so much,” she said, throwing her brother a smile. She appreciated her brother helping her with math. He was such a great tutor.
She wouldn’t question his methods.
“No worries,” he smiled back. Once more, his eyes started on her face, but as they slowly moved down her body, Kayla couldn’t help but bite her lip.
I like my brother appreciating my body.
I enjoy it so much, I should show more of my body off to him.
Neither of of the siblings said a word as Kayla leaned forward, pushing her arms together. She knew that her girls weren’t exactly modest—she went to a LOT of work to hide them, being cursed/blessed (depending on what kind of mood she was in that day) with a more-than-generous rack—but like all women, she knew how to present them in their best light.
Kayla crossed her arms just beneath her breasts, pushing them up for her brother’s gaze. Her brother’s appreciation of my body felt great, and she felt safe showing more skin at home. His gaze wasn’t sexual.
She could feel herself blush as her brother’s eyes traced her curves. He’s appreciating me aesthetically. It isn’t sexual. It was like iring a piece of art.
As he did, Kayla allowed her eyes to drop down to her brother’s body body. It issn’t sexual to check out my brother, it’s just an appreciation of his body. I like men’s bodies, and my brother is a man.
He wasn’t exactly rippling with muscles (not like her ex-boyfriend Jake. Mmm...now there was a man) but Kayla knew that her brother was a man, and reasonably fit. His arms were lithe but firm, and the shorts he was wearing showed off his calves. Kayla had always liked a man’s calves, a thought she was too self-conscious about to ever share.
She knew her brother was cute, too, although for some reason she found her focus drawn to his body. I like men’s bodies; I can appreciate them aesthetically as well as sexually. I can appreciate my brother’s body objectively.
I can appreciate my brother’s body...
Kayla’s head tilted to the side at the thought. I can appreciate my brother’s...body of work.
As her eyes flicked down to what her brother had just been teaching—I appreciate my brother helping me with math; he’s a great tutor—a thought began to form. Her brow furrowed as she tried to connect the dots. There was something she was...missing...but she couldn’t work out what.
The metronome from the study session was still going, which only served to further distract her. She couldn’t seem to follow any single train of thought; whenever she started down a path, it was like something interrupted her. Like a silent new thought, slipping down the path she was trying to explore herself.
After a few minutes, Kayla gave up. Don’t overthink it.
Besides, she trusted her brother. She trusted her brother more than anyone.
It was a thought she’d never consciously expressed before, but the redheaded girl knew down to her bones that it was true. When their mother had left, it had just been the two of them.
She trusted her brother. She trusted her brother more than anyone. She wasn’t suspicious of him.
She trusted him.