Yes! But a montage is difficult in text form, though.

What follows are the two busiest days (and nights!) of your life. During the days you need to pack your stuff while Glynda clears your surprise holiday with your school. Turns out you don't own that much that you would need on a tropical holiday. One nice outfit for the unavoidable dinner party with your father's business colleagues, and otherwise it's just a bunch of t-shirts and board-shorts. Shelly quits her job and spends the first day moping about it, but during the second day the general excitement of the household gets hold of her too and she gets noticeably happier. Your school assigns you a literal wheelbarrow load of homework but you're not worried. As it is, all your thoughts are taken by planning your nightly escapades in Shelly's psyche.

Both nights are full of perverted acts of the highest quality. The moment Shelly falls asleep, you step into the director's chair and conjure hot and heavy sex dreams starring Puppet-You fucking Shelly six ways from Sunday. Romantic missionary in her bed. Animalistic doggy style on your bed. Sweaty cowgirl riding you on the couch. Standing up shower sex against the wall. And of course, blowjobs. So many blowjobs. Shelly sucking you off in every room of the house. Shelly giving you road head. Face fucking Shelly at your school. Quickie blowjob in a changing room at the mall. Sneaky hummer in a dark movie theatre. Swallowing your sword under a blanket in an airplane. Slurping your yogurt cannon in the toilet of a restaurant. And of course, each time she's wearing something short, slutty and sexy.

Taking quick breaks between the sessions of being a dream-porn director, to ensure that Shelly doesn't wake up from overstimulation, you finish modifying her wardrobe. Her old tops are replaced with things that will properly showcase her new, improved bosom for your benefit. In the name of future-proofing, you put in a little bit of everything: from Gothic corsets with lace and velvet to skin-tight latex vests to sexy secretary blouses to cheerleader tops and more. Since you know Shelly will slavishly purchase everything exactly the way you've created them in her Psychic Wardrobe, you are very much looking forward to the big fashion show once you return from Bali. But most importantly, her boring one-piece swimsuits turn into slinky bikinis. Even if she doesn't have time to get a new pair before you depart, she surely will get something traffic-stopping once you arrive in the tropical paradise.

The final element of your plan is to give her suitable memories so that you can be sure that she will seduce you during the coming days. Once she wakes up, Shelly will think that she has been teasing you with her body for months and months, afterward always ending up having to furiously masturbate. The seeds you had planted in her psyche earlier work for your benefit here. She still knows, on an intellectual level, that **** is wrong and not socially acceptable - but now she doesn't care, because of the pleasure she's receiving from teasing you. And in her new, implanted, memories she has progressively gotten bolder and bolder. Not only to flash a peek of panties but to "accidentally" leave her door open while she's changing clothes, dropping her towel when walking past you, rubbing her butt and boobs against you.

Waking up on the day of departure, you hope it has been enough, but you're not overly concerned. You can always keep reinforcing the message.

Getting to the airport, and especially getting through security is a nightmare, as always. Your only joy in that misery is surprise surprise, Shelly. The last time your father dragged you somewhere as a family, Shelly had been a frumpy, grumpy bitch for the whole trip. This time, she is the polar opposite. She's wrapped her silky blonde hair into giant twintails that frame her head and run past her shoulders. Her face is expertly made up, with dark violet eyeshadow, mascara, and pink lipstick. Up top, she's wearing a thin off-shoulder grey sweater with short sleeves and a lacy red bra underneath it. You know this because her top is loose enough that you get plenty of chances to stare inside it - an activity that Shelly clearly notices but pays no mind, aside from an occasional smile. Down below, her wisp of a skirt is bubble-gum pink, flippy, and barely has enough material to cover her crotch when she is sitting. Her garter belt and stockings are white as snow, though the big bows at the front are pink too. The backless peep-toe stilettos crown the outfit. The whole thing screams teenage slut in capital letters and your poor dick alternates between semi-hard and fully-hard through the airport.

And if that wasn't enough to keep you smilingly like a doofus, Shelly tops it off by fussing around you almost constantly. Either she holds your hand, or hugs you, or leans against you. This means that multiple times, your hand brushes a breast or a buttock, or she presses her still-growing bosom against you, or runs her dainty fingers - pink nail polish! - through your hair. If looks could kill, the envious stares of other male passengers would have turned you into a pile of ash before you even reached the gate. Naturally, there are not enough seats at the gate, so Shelly sits in your lap. Your boner was raging at that point, yet she made no comment, even twisted her butt a little as if to make herself more comfortable. You grunted but, through some miracle of restraint, managed not to soil your shorts. You tried to keep your hands modestly against her stomach, but that was a doomed attempt. By the time they announce boarding for First Class, you have one hand sliding across her thighs, feeling the contrast between her smooth skin and the lacy stockings, and another hand inside her sweater, covertly testing the material covering her under-boob. At no point did Shelly make any attempt to dislodge your wandering hands, or even protest at all.

At least your father had splurged for First Class tickets for all four of you. Or made his company pay for them, who cares. It was going to be a long flight, so you were grateful for the ability to kick back and relax. As soon as the plane reached cruising altitude, you turned your seat all the way down, to make it into a pretty decent bunk.

"Hey", Shelly poked her head above the divider between your seats. "Do you mind if I scoot over? I can't sleep on planes", she asks. You swallow nervously. You want to wait until you're in the tropical paradise before you consummate your passion with your sister, but you're not at all certain that you can control yourself for the next ten hours or so if Shelly is right next to you.

"Yeah sure, come on then", you gruffly give her permission. With a smile, she floats over and the two of you somehow manage to fit in, pulling a blanket over the reclined seat.

"Hug your big sister like you used to do when you were a baby", she whispers to your ear and presses your face between her breasts. When had she got rid of the sweater? You don't know and frankly, you don't care. You slip both hands under her skirt and find that she must be wearing a thong since her cheeks are bare, and use your grip to pull her tight against you, your face buried in the giant, soft pillows that she calls boobs. She wraps one arm around your head, keeping you in place, while the fingers of her other pet your back as she whispers a lullaby in your ear.

You can't recall the last time you felt this good. And amazingly, it works. You must have been more tired and stressed from all those nocturnal activities because in a few moments you fall asleep. There is no maze, only the faint voice of your big sister and the warmth of her body as you sink deeper and deeper.