I got got by the man and not in the fun way.
Send me to all your friends so I can re-gather all my moots!
❤️❤️
Sweet Seals For You, Always
RMH
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost

izzy's playlists!

ellievsbear
Mike Driver

⁂
wallacepolsom
No title available
DEAR READER
taylor price
Cosimo Galluzzi

JBB: An Artblog!

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
No title available
occasionally subtle
art blog(derogatory)

tannertan36
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@fishalivecaps2
I got got by the man and not in the fun way.
Send me to all your friends so I can re-gather all my moots!
❤️❤️
oh ive alwayssssss loved the idea of control chips, headphones, some sort of machine that literally washes away your thoughts and replaces them, they all sound sooo so fun and hot
as for writing inspo, im not sure what to suggest but ill read basically anything you write tbh sir 🤭
Good girl. The control chip must be working.
whats your like dream/fave fantasy way to hypnotise someone unexpectedly?
Ooh, there's a lot of good options there. I think I'll cheat and pick two.
I've always liked the image of someone opening their front door and finding a hypnotist on their doorstep. Maybe someone they know, maybe a total stranger. Maybe a prepared trigger, maybe some form of instant control like glowing eyes or a compelling voice. Either way, they fall under his control and obediently invite him in.
But if it's a serial recruitment situation, nothing beats a slave approaching a would-be sister from behind with some kind of mind control tech. Headphones or a back-of-the-neck control chip or a collar that closes with a satisying click, erasing the unsuspecting victim's free will in a heartbeat.
She was a few steps up the second flight of stairs when her brain caught up with what her eyes had seen.
There was a man on the landing, watching her.
Wasn't there? There couldn't be.
But she had seen him. Hadn't she?
Slowly, she began to turn, afraid of what might be behind her. That was when he spoke.
"You didn't see anyone," he said, in a deep, clear voice that seemed to bypass her ears entirely. "You are alone in the house. Carry on up the stairs and take a shower."
She didn't see anyone. Of course she didn't. She was alone in the house. She sighed with relief and continued up the stairs, pulling her top off as she headed towards the bathroom.
"There's no need to lock the door," said no one and her hand fell away from the latch.
I'm in a mood to write but I don't know what. If anyone's got any kinky mind control asks or suggestions for story ideas, send them my way.
hiiii fish
just wondered if youve seen the new pictures of Halsey at the gold gala thing she went to a couple days ago?
the big chunky choker, low cut dress and the wide eyed look bc of her makeup seems like itd fit realllllly well with some of your captions is all, and if not i figured you’d like the pictures anyway 🤭
and since im here, just wanted to say i love your work and have for yearssss so thank you for being a constant source of sexy stuff to look at ☺️
Thank you! It's always nice to hear from people who enjoy the weird kinky shit I write.
Despite my occasional captions about celebrities, I don't really follow any of them closely so I hadn't seen those pictures but...
Mmm. I can certainly see the appeal. The big choker that looks like it could hide mind control tech, the gold dress that doesn't hide anything...
And there's just something about these celebrity occasions, isn't there?
All the beauties on display, compelled to show themselves off. Draped in luxurious fashion. Walking billboards for designer brands. Entertaining a society that wants to see them as nothing but pretty objects, as they stare blankly into the flashing cameras.
Serving their purpose.
Claire tried not to roll her eyes as her new boss explained that she would have to take a corporate induction training course before they actually let her work.
Sitting in a little room in the hotel's back office, she mentally cursed her parents. If they had simply kept paying her university tuition like before, none of this would have been necessary. But, no, they decided that she needed to "learn some responsibility" and "pay her own way".
Now here she was, about to waste hours of her life watching videos about how to vacuum carpets and scrub toilets or whatever, as if this stupid maid job was going to be complicated.
She was considering just walking out and finding something else when the screen in front of her suddenly flickered and flashed. The jobbing actor who had been saying something about company values disappeared, replaced with a weird strobing effect and a headache-inducing buzz.
"Hey!" she yelled at the door, assuming someone was outside. "I think this thing is... this thing is... broken..."
Her parents were horrified when she announced that she was dropping out of her course to work for the hotel full-time. They assumed she was bluffing at first and then begged her to reconsider when they realised she wasn't, even offering to increase her allowance again.
It was far too late for that though. She hadn't attended classes or submitted coursework in months. She no longer cared about her education or a high-paying future career or even the party lifestyle she had enjoyed before.
Claire was a maid now. Her only purpose - drilled into her head over and over in daily programming sessions with all the other maids - was the pleasure of the hotel's exclusive clientele. Nothing else mattered.
When Sophie heard footsteps in the corridor, she panicked and hid behind the thick curtain, hoping desperately that her silhouette wouldn't be too obvious in the evening light. Amazingly, it seemed to have worked.
Her quarry entered, leading a beautiful young party guest by the hand. He sat the giggling girl in a chair and assured her that this - whatever it was - would only take a moment and that no one would notice they had gone. Then he turned on the TV.
Peeking out as much as she dared, Sophie watched in growing horror as the other woman's expression slowly went blank. On the screen, colours danced and swirled in time with the rhythmic, pulsing hum coming from the speakers.
This was how he was doing it, she realised. She had thought she was investigating a story of bribery or blackmail but that wasn't it. His power and influence came from brainwashing people. All he had to do was somehow get them to watch the pattern and... and...
Watch the pattern. Sophie struggled to keep her train of thought as her eyes were inexorably drawn back to the flickering, twisting mass of light. Watch the pattern. Hear the commands.
Once they watched the pattern... Watch the pattern... Once they did that, he could simply command them and... Hear the commands... They would... Obey. They would obey. Obey.
Watch the pattern. Hear the commands. Obey.
Sophie let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. The fear and anger drained from her face and she slumped against the window behind her, one eye locked on the pattern.
Watch the pattern. Hear the commands. Obey.
A few moments later, when her Master gently pulled back the curtain and instructed her to take a seat, she obeyed.
Watch the pattern. Hear the commands. Obey. Obey. Obey.
A final batch for today - new programming being received...
I know it's really sexy for many of you to think about brainwashing apps and helmets and devices, but in this current day and age they'd jam it full of AI TRASH you would neither use or want, and then they'd just try to sell you stuff.
I'm sorry but for the good of the population we are boycotting all brainwashing tech until this AI phase is over.
Unless it runs on Linux.
From the moment Elizabeth arrived in Golden Cove, something about the little seaside town felt... off.
Maybe it was the lack of cell phone signal. Maybe it was the strangely retro look of everything, from the buildings to the cars to the inhabitants' fashion. Maybe it was the confused looks she got when she told them she was just passing through on a business trip.
She almost decided to keep on driving after dinner and find somewhere else to crash for the night, but that would be ridiculous. She had already paid for the room so she couldn't expense a second one and she was exhausted from driving all day. Hell, that was probably why she felt so weird in the first place.
So instead, she flopped down on the hotel bed and tried sleep, ignoring both her concerns and the growing buzzing sensation at the base of her skull.
The next morning, Lizzie awoke with a grin, ready to start another beautiful day in sunny Golden Cove! Ignoring the mysterious suitcase on the floor, she plucked her favourite polkadot bikini from its hanger in the wardrobe and spent a while fixing her hair before breakfast.
As she crossed the hotel parking lot on the way to the beach, there was a tow truck hauling away a weird car. For just a moment, she thought it looked familiar. Then she shrugged and forgot about it. She pretended to care about cars sometimes, when the boys were talking about them, but she didn't really. None of the girls did.
The usual crowd of beach bunnies were waiting for her when she arrived, already watching the boys in the water and giggling to themselves. They knew her. She knew them. She had always known them. They had always lived in Golden Cove, just like her.
For the likes
For the likes
I write for myself. For years now, I have words, thoughts, stories, and experiences that have to go out. I trust them to the metaphorical paper. And it makes my life better that I do that.
But posting, that is a completely different matter.
Posting is for me, too. But in a different way. The feedback is a good reason, and the interaction makes me a better writer, as well as a better editor. But that is not it; I get easily annoyed at random critics who only point out spelling and grammar mistakes. I know I write as a non-native speaker; there is a reason for that.
I am pretty sure I write for the likes. For the reblogs. For other writers or hypnokinky people to say something nice about it.
Each like is a small dopamine hit. It hits me right in that part of my brain that gets happy about it. Each one is conditioning me to feel good about posting. Each one makes a small mark in my deep self that makes me feel good about posting. And I can just mindlessly stare at the number that goes up, and up, and up. Each one is making me feel better and better.
That can’t hurt, right?
Slowly training the host to be a better slut and whore. Who wants a pair?
"And you're absolutely certain that this isn't the costume you ordered?" asked the customer service rep.
She stared at herself in the mirror. She had been so angry about it, so very confident in her righteous indignation, when she called to complain. But something had changed over the last hour. Or had it been two?
"I... I don't think so. No, I ordered... uh... a ghost costume, I think. I'm pretty sure."
"That's a pity," he said. "Because you look very hot in that one."
She blushed, still unsure how they had convinced her to switch to a video call. And shouldn't it have been enough to just see the ridiculous thing in its box?
"Uh... That's nice of you but I don't... I'm not really..."
"However, I'm afraid I can't offer you a refund if you're only pretty sure there's been a mistake. Why don't I put you on hold again so you can think about it some more?"
Before she could respond, the music began again. The strange, blissful music she'd heard so many times that afternoon, over and over. The beautiful noise that hid the whispers as they slipped into her mind, growing louder and louder each time.
The whispers told her that she had ordered exactly this costume. They said it was perfect for a slut like her. That she loved how it showed off her body and that she would happily wear it to whatever party she was invited to.
Slowly but surely, she was beginning to believe them.
Reblogging this one because I've failed to write an Easter-specific caption but, hey, a bunny girl is a bunny girl.
There was a moment when I played tumblr's april's fools day where I thought it was giving me sublimal messageing where I did not caught half of the words (good girl something, hypnobrat something, hypnosomething)
But it just does list who I follow
😅
It doesn't help that it shows the tagline of each person I follow, and it has cute tumblrina phrases like 'boop', 'obsessed' and 'no thoughts, head empty'
When they dragged her into the chamber, Amy kicked and screamed and spat and swore that they would never break her, not like the rest.
When the process was complete and they came in to retrieve her, slave #3674 was waiting patiently in the dormant position, ready to join her sisters.