on the one hand: this early issue (#4 "Who's Scaring Stevie?") is so mortifying and weird in the way only Claremont New Mutants can achieve, but Stevie looks so beautiful here in the kiss vision -- these early issues aren't winning any prizes for art from me but it has a real romance-comic vibe and it makes Peter's really pitiful confused crush EXTRA agonizing given everything he's done (it's a really fun and genuinely tense teen thriller-type storyline with Stevie receiving creepy menacing phone calls from, spoiler, this kid, one of her pupils, and it feels almost like a Halloween episode -- very spooky)
on the other: the desire to draw Quentin Quire in this style... nerd rage and weird stalking... it's rising in my body
I don’t think I’ve ever properly put this into words but the core value of my blog is:
Hypnosis first, sex second.
Sex doesn’t always follow hypnosis and it shouldn’t have to. It’s like a dessert. A little something extra.
My fantasies usually take place in the going under part of the story or the mindless thrall part, and that’s hotter than being used (being used is still hot, don’t get me wrong)
It’s just a fundamental core of my being. You want me aroused? Hypnosis first!
it's a rarity that a single pilot can handle the mental load of a jaeger. jean grey was the first, though she still chose to pilot with her husband until her passing - and the next is quentin quire. unlike jean, however, quire runs a solo jaeger - omega riot - and is adamant about not wanting a copilot. the ppdc doesn't even bother pushing it anymore, because compatibility testing with quentin results in cadets dropping from the program like flies. but for a while, that works... until it doesn't.
quentin hasn't told anyone, but piloting riot alone has been taking its toll. migraines with vicious auras, absence seizures, the occasional bout of bleeding from the face - he's got it all! but nobody gets to know, or he'll be shackled to some shiny, fresh-faced newbie who's only ever run sims, making a mess of his conn-pod and his mind. hell, he doesn't even want a veteran at his side - after jean died, the utopia shatterdome tried having him and her widower drift, but even scott - perfect, golden, practically raised in the program scott summers, compatible with anyone - couldn't handle him. the failure wasn't even quentin's fault, really - the feeling of their drift, of another limitless mind touching his, had sent scott chasing rabbits, lost in memories of jean that quentin had to tear away from to force an eject.
he's not doing that again. if he goes down, he goes down - and it'll be him and riot and no one else.
which is all fine and well, except the ppdc needs him. it needs all their active pilots and battle-ready jaegers, recalling all teams and staff to utopia to make the program's final stand - which is how quentin meets logan.
logan howlett is old guard, for the jaeger program - his first deployment was in a mark i, weapon x, out of anchorage, until it was eventually phased out. his copilot, victor creed, stayed in anchorage while logan sought a transfer, working with commands and jaeger engineers around the pacific rim to improve the program. when he did get back in the cockpit, it was with his son, running several missions out of the tokyo shatterdome until their jaeger was destroyed, leaving logan severely injured. by the time he reaches utopia, he's got enough pins and screws in him to rival a jaeger, and most of his job is overseeing personnel, both cadets and rangers. he's got a keen eye - and seeing quire in person for the first time, instead of just studying footage of omega riot, he can tell something's up with the kid.
and he's right. riot comes in from a run and, while quire tells the ground team he's fine, just needs a shower and sleep, logan trails the kid to the lockers and finds him snorting a glob of red into a sink. when he asks if that's what passes for fine at utopia, quire bares his teeth and tells him to fuck off, and his mouth is stained with blood.
so logan leaves quire there to go ask the ground team if he can see riot's conn-pod - he's never worked with a one-man rig - and lets them find the blood all on their own.
one workup in medical later and quentin is benched, the threat of disassembling omega riot hanging over his head if he pushes back too hard against any intervention. he needs scans, he needs preventatives - and he needs, xavier insists, a copilot. he still doesn't want one, but the idea of having his jaeger scrapped makes him sick to his stomach, so quentin acquiesces to compatibility testing, after some enforced rest. it's not like it'll be any different from the past two hundred times they tried finding him a copilot - he's going to chew through a batch of cadets who can't keep up, whose attempts at dialogue in the ring feel like they're stuttering through a prom proposal instead of offering a partnership, and end up sitting on his ass, quietly stewing in his own bitterness, until command decides they can't afford to have him out of commission.
logan's never been here before, though. he studies the placement rounds, watches the way quire aggresses - and of course he's never found a copilot, because he doesn't even consider the cadets they put in front of him. sure, they're all a little nervous - quire's a damn prodigy, a living legend - but the kid sees it and immediately discards the idea that his opponent is even an option. he's ruthless, unceasing, a barrage of blows and takedowns until his partner is forced off the mat, and a good few are nursing more than just sore pride as they watch their classmates approach quire like a wild animal.
he leans over to chuck to ask if he can get in the ring with quire, and xavier seems bemused - but he allows it, stops quire from leaving in a huff after he's beaten his last cadet into submission and tells him he's got one more fight. when charles says it's logan, quentin looks at both of them like they've lost their minds. he's not sticking around to entertain some has-been's pride, or whatever the hell this is about. bad enough they keep trying to make him babysit - riot's conn-pod isn't a goddamn retirement home.
logan asks if he's really that scared of him, and quentin gives him that same snarl as before, in the lockers, teeth blessedly free of red, before telling him to get in the fucking ring.
neither of them expect anything more than bruises from a fight - logan just wants to put the kid in his place, and quentin wants to make the old man eat his words. but from the first time their staffs meet, something just... clicks. the last thing logan expected was to actually find out they're compatible, but he can tell, from the look in quire's eyes, that he knows it, too. the mean little smirk quire had approached the mat with turns to something that, if logan were stupider, he'd call out as enjoyment - there's a thrill in every point scored, each strike and dodge, quentin's strange elegance complimenting logan's long-trained discipline until they feel like one damn unit.
quentin's the one to call the spar, breaking a hold with a sharp elbow to logan's gut before scrambling to his feet and spitting that he's done. the cadets got trashed, the relic got to relive his glory days - if they need him for anything else, don't.
logan shouldn't care - the kid's right, after all, that he is past his prime - but, god, he hasn't felt that in years. still, he's not gonna beg his way into a conn-pod with someone who won't even give him a shot, who's more likely to chase the RABIT out of pure spite than let them get a foot out of the jaeger bay, so he leaves it.
it's his son that gets him to reconsider, practically bristling as he hunts logan down in the base. he and the kid are friends, or something like it, and akihiro knows about quentin's medical shit. he also knows they can drift, thanks to laura's former classmates quire had bullied in the ring, and he insists logan get the fuck over himself and keep the kid from killing himself. he wants to argue - wants to say that quentin's not his responsibility - but the words fall short. logan was the one to suss out quire wasn't well, the one to lead his team to the proof they needed to bench him - he'd already made quentin his responsibility. backing down now because the kid's got a bad attitude, especially when they're drift compatible, is shitty of him.
so he asks... charles. quire's been dodging him like he's venomous, but if they can get in one damn pod together, drift one damn time, maybe he can show him. maybe the kid'll get it. quentin's obviously not happy when he makes it to the top of utopia and finds logan waiting for him, with someone else's two-pilot conn-pod - but fine. he'll try.
logan gives him everything. lets the memories wash over him - the son who'd hated him, the daughter he'd barely known, the people he'd let down, over and over - without an ounce of the shame that could screw them up, so damn bad. he wants it to work. and quentin - hesitantly, gives back. pressures, fears, the ghost of a dead woman, beloved, adored, a hero, hanging over him every time they put another potential copilot in front of him. the terror of realizing what solo piloting was doing and how desperately he didn't want to drag anyone else down with him.
neither shies away, but neither chases, either. they complete the handshake, and it holds, strong. they're drifting.
once they're out of the drift, they've got engineers buzzing around them, already in talks to retrofit omega riot for two - and logan sits down beside quentin, who looks exhausted but satisfied, and asks if they can compromise on all that pink on his jaeger - their jaeger, now. quentin snorts and tells him there's not a chance.
i’d say i’m like frogboiling ppl to be cool with q/logan but at the end of the day i am just sitting in spaces technically meant for me & not talking much until sb engages whose vibes aren’t shit
synopsis: Engineer stays up too late working. An irritated Heavy sends him to bed.
content: no sexual content, force of personality, rapid hypnosis, yes repetition
credit: inspired by @mxdriftdrop's comic with the same premise, although my dialogue is different.
-----------------------------
Some distant time after midnight, entirely alone in an otherwise silent base, Engineer was just starting the night’s twenty-fourth trial of his increased-efficiency sentry firing mechanism when the door to his workshop was smacked open.
(Well, ‘workshop’ was probably a generous term. Really he was standing in the most spacious room in the base that hadn’t already been designated bedroom or kitchen.)
From the doorway, a night-clothed Heavy glared at him. “Is Engineer aware of what time it is?”
Engineer barely glanced up from his work.
“Heh. Well, sure, son. But I’ve never been in the habit of nine hours sleep. It ain’t botherin’ you none, so you can leave me alo- “
“It is bothering me. It is 3 o’clock in morning. Engineer’s work is bright and loud. The team cannot fight well if they cannot sleep well because of you. Heavy needs peace. Engineer lets go of work and goes to bed now.”
Engineer turned around to look at Heavy, a little longer this time, but with a smile broad and indulgent enough to make clear Heavy’s concerns were entirely insignificant to him.
“No time limits on when I work, son. That’s how I operate. I can whip up a little soundproofing on the door-”
Heavy walked forward into the room. “No. Heavy is tired of this. Engineer is not being thoughtful to team. Engineer sleeps, now.”
Engineer’s easy smile grew a little harder. “Ah hah. Easy, pardner. My machines take priority here. In fact, I’d wager quite a damn sight more thought goes into them than what our colleagues expend on the battlefield, so you’re just gonna have to put your earmuffs on and put up with it -“
Engineer’s smile faded a little, as Heavy drew himself entirely up to him.
Even with Engineer already crouched over his work, Heavy strode deliberately into Engineer’s personal space in a manner emphasising every pound of mass difference between them. Engineer became suddenly aware of the fact that Heavy’s torso was as wide as his own shoulders, and that his own eyeline just reached the top of Heavy’s breast. Continuing to address him required Engineer to crane his neck. The faintly clean, masculine scent of Heavy’s nightclothes interrupted the stronger smell of metal.
Engineer’s breath trembled slightly. Heavy’s physicality was powerful. “Uh – yes. Well – what I’m saying, is – “
“Look Heavy in the eyes when you talk.”
“Uh…” Engineer met Heavy’s eyes and felt automatically locked to them. The larger man’s eyes were looking calmly and focusedly down at him, entirely lacking the scattering that Engineer was feeling. For a moment – though he didn’t really believe it of course – Engineer felt an unshakeable sense of Heavy’s dominance. And his own submission.
“That’s good. Engineer can listen so much better when he’s looking at my eyes, yes?”
“Uh… Um. Sure thing. Listen, what I’m… uh… saying is, my tinkering goes on when I want it to –“
“Shhhhh. Keep looking. Engineer knows that Heavy is stronger than him, yes?”
Uh. Engineer found it difficult to keep track of what he was just saying, with Heavy imposing so close. And what Heavy just said was difficult to argue with. “Um… well, yes, you are, but-“
“Engineer knows Heavy’s body is stronger, yes?”
Eyes. Looking at his eyes. It was very hard to keep a train of thought. “Uhh… yes… I need to, uh…”
“Heavy’s words are stronger than Engineer’s, yes?”
“Y-yes…”
“Heavy’s mind is stronger, yes?”
“Yes…”
“Not necessary to think now. Engineer simply agrees Heavy’s words are true, yes?”
“Yes…”
“When Heavy speaks, Engineer agrees, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes. Good. Engineer is tired, now. Very tired and ready to sleep until morning. When Heavy taps forehead, he goes blank and allows body to carry him to bed, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Good Engineer. See you in morning.”
Heavy tapped his strong index finger just above Dell’s eyes. And then – and then…
-
The next thing Engineer was conscious of was waking up in his own room.
Blearily opening his eyes, he realised – daylight. A full 5 hours of sleep, at least. More than he usually got. And – he realised disgruntledly – his sentry’s mechanism was still stuck at 92% efficiency levels, rather than the 92.5% he thought he was gonna achieve overnight if he hadn’t been interrupted. Hell, that was almost the difference between a won match and an a lost one! How could he have slept so early?
Stumbling blearily out of his room, his mind granted a hazy, floaty memory of peacefully walking himself from the workshop to his bedroom, with a mind perfectly calm and empty and assured that Heavy’s words were the most important thing in the world. Jesus. Had Heavy’s persuasion really worked that easily?
As Engineer walked irritably (but much more well-rested than usual) to the meal room, he saw the giant man already sitting at the table, eating an early breakfast before the rest of the team crowded in.
Right. He needed to talk about what had happened. Set boundaries.
“Heavy?”
The man glanced disinterestedly in his direction.
“Heavy, son. I… I’m not certain what you think you were doin’ last night… but my machines need a lot of work, and I, er, don’t appreciate you infringin’ on my autonomy like tha-a…“
Engineer’s voice dropped out from under him. Heavy had lifted his head to make direct eye contact with Engineer as he spoke, and all of a sudden Engineer saw those strong blue eyes. The same as he had seen last night. And… and…
Engineer’s thought processes stumbled slowly to a halt. Heavy stared matter-of-factly at him, like… like… um…
Engineer’s mind wasn’t quite sure how to make similes right now.
“Shhhhhhhhh. No silly talking. Engineer agrees that Heavy was right to put Engineer to sleep, yes?”
“Uh… yes…”
“Good. Engineer leaves room now and stops bothering Heavy.”
“Y-Yes…”
Engineer’s body had walked automatically out of the room and several yards beyond before his train of thought resumed.
What? How had he – the same exact trick twice? Ah, dag-nab – damn it.
Engineer sighed in defeat, and resigned himself to the fact that he wanted to continue working into the night, he’d have to find somewhere that wouldn’t bother Heavy.
speaking of doppelgangers in the functionist universe, i have been absolutely obsessed with the fact that one of the mtmte notebooks mentions that jro wanted rodimus to meet a version of getaway there. fuck i need their weird interactions so bad
GOD how do i not remember this. why did i not bring my notebooks with me. anyway yes fucking Insane concept, can u imagine. imagine you're going about your life (in a shitty dystopia mind) and then the gaudiest asshole ever shows up and very clearly wants to commit literal murder. impeccably rancid vibes.
fuck here it is. everything about this concept is wild. rodimus beating the shit out of him on sight. fu!getaway having no clue who the fuck rodimus even is. the idea of either getaway's spark ending up in the same frame, an extraordinary coincidence that would likely feed normal!getaway's narcissism, or getaway's spark ending up in a different frame, which opens up an entirely new dynamic. the concept of what the fuck getaway's personality and life would even be in a theocratic functionist universe with no autobot/decepticon military conflict (he's most likely still an abusive dipshit to be clear). would he even have the same name? i need this flavour of getarod so bad
If Scout was awake right now, he’d probably be pretty weirded out by what he was doing.
If Scout was awake, it would be pretty weird that he had just walked out from his room and started heading towards the Doc’s surgery for no apparent reason, because he didn’t even have a broken bone or wanted to steal pills or nothin. Actually, the weirder part would be the inexplicable hard-on he had, the burning pleasure between his legs like it was totally normal to get all hot and bothered just thinking about where he was going. Yeah, it would be pretty fuckin strange and creepy and embarrassing if he just walked in on the Doc unannounced, with an uncertain gaze and an obvious tent in his pants, and he was awake.
But luckily, he was dreaming, so it wasn’t weird at all. He opened the door (Isn’t this door usually locked?, is what he would have thought if he was awake) and strolled right in while the Doc was hunched over a drawer, and the Medic wasn’t startled at all like he should be, normally. He just looked up over his shoulder and smiled fondly at Scout, like this was a perfectly predictable sequence of events. Typical dream logic.
“Ah, hello, Scout.” Medic smiled. “Are you having another silly dream again?”
Yes, he was dreaming. He must have drifted off to sleep some time in his room, and now he was having a funny lucid dream about going to the med bay. Scout walked without asking to the centre of the room and hoisted himself up on the operating table to give the Doc a good look at him, even if he wasn’t entirely sure why it was important to do that. With a similar vague sense of routine, he loosened his belt and pulled his pants down to his calves, then his underwear too. Medic didn’t seem perturbed by this, just cooing some weird dream-words that Scout’s conscious mind registered as gibberish, and rolling a rack full of specimens closer to the table so he had Scout in full view while he continued his own work. For good measure Scout pulled up his shirt to his armpits too, just to – um. Just to make sure the Doc could see his bare stomach and stiff nipples. All these things made perfect sense to him, just like they always made sense in his dreams.
And then… uh. Well, he did exactly what was natural to do during a wet dream about walking in on his leering doctor. He started jerking off.
The time had been that Scout might have been embarrassed about having this type of sexy dream, about another man. Scout remembered, fuzzily, the flushing humiliation he used to feel at the thoughts he first had about his teammates - the involuntary daydreams that slipped in around Heavy’s height and mass, Engineer’s older paternal drawl, the cool, casual way the Medic could manhandle him…
But, Scout thought with enormous relief, as he continued stroking himself within the dream, all that embarrassment and insecurity had gone away since his first few appointments with the Doc. As everyone on RED team knew, the Medic liked to chat a lot while he had you on the operating table… and it just so happened early on, that one of Medic’s bedside chats had drifted to the topic of Scout’s embarrassing thoughts.
Scout didn’t quite remember precisely what Medic had said way back when, when Scout had first hesitantly opened up about having his weird daydreams sometimes. Medic had given him some kinda drugs for whatever injury he had at the time, that made him feel sorta dopey and fuzzy and agreeable the whole time, but he definitely remembered how important and soothing Medic’s talk had been. He remembered how Medic, always hands-on, had been grinning and brushing his hands along Scout’s taut arms, cooing over what a fit and healthy young man he was. Explaining how a growing boy like himself must naturally be brimming with very powerful sexual thoughts. Lots of men Scout’s age had wet dreams and fantasies, Medic had said, and it was perfectly normal for those fantasies to contain men. Thinking about other males wasn’t something to worry about. It was simply a natural, unconscious way for a young man to explore his burgeoning feelings.
In fact, Medic had reassured him back in that first medical appointment, Scout didn’t really need to feel concerned at all if he ever felt the urge to look at his teammates, or experienced sexy, sleeping fantasies about homosexual encounters. Such as, for example, dreaming about sinking down into a blank, uninhibited slut in front of his special doctor. It was simply an abstract expression of desire, his growing sexually mature subconscious figuring things out, so if Scout ever had any perfectly natural wet dreams it was okay to just mentally lie back and let his body follow the path of dream logic.
After all, Scout remembered the Medic telling him in that soothingly condescending German accent, it was always easy to tell the difference between dreams and reality. Scout knew he wouldn’t ever do anything like this in reality, which meant that if he ever felt his dazed, sleepy mind doing something as odd as sitting in the med bay and jerking off in front of Medic, it must not be reality. It must just be a wet dream. A silly, natural product of his juvenile imagination, that there was no need to wonder about or remember afterwards. Scout smiled, thinking about how simple and soothing that logic was. He never had to worry about his wet dreams. He always knew they weren’t real.
Although sometimes, Scout thought distantly as he continued stroking himself in front of Medic, dreams like this got so vivid and strange he really started to feel scared. His ‘wet dreams’ seemed to feature Medic an awful lot. Sometimes he dreamed about just finishing over himself, and grinning there afterwards in a happy, sticky haze while the doctor murmured pretty words and sponged it off his legs. Sometimes his dreams went further, dreaming about the doctor chuckling and pressing his fingers in Scout’s mouth like he owned him, unbuttoning his own pants and then – and then… um. Sometimes the sensations in the dreams were so real Scout really started to worry that he hadn’t imagined them. Like all this weird stuff he dreamed about every night was actually happening in reality, and – and the doctor was some kinda creepy European pervert, brainwashing Scout into thinking he was dreaming while really trying to drug and condition him into his own personal exhibitionist sex toy -
- But, Scout’s brain interrupted smoothly and easily, hadn’t Medic taught him exactly what to do when he started worrying like that? Medic had taught him that silly, inexperienced young boys like him had such excited minds that they sometimes got confused between dreams and reality. And paranoia like that just meant it was time for another check-up with the doctor.
Whenever Scout started to get worried about his dreams, he remembered all he had to do was walk down to the med bay whenever the Doc was available, and Medic would be happy to give him the special fuzzy drugs again and have another important talk about how natural and normal it was to have his regular dreams. Silly inexperienced, insecure boys have vivid, special dreams that they don’t need to worry about, Medic would explain, and the best cure for their anxieties is always to just let an older, more knowledgeable man reassure them. Lie back and smile and nod and let their experienced doctors stroke all those silly accusatory thoughts out of their heads. That’s it, good boy, Medic always cooed as Scout lay there in his dopey, compliant afterglow. Absolutely nothing happened today that you need to remember. Just happy sexy dreams about being a good slave.
Yes, Scout reminded himself, as he felt the dream-version of Medic strip his clothes fully off now. Everything that was happening now was just an imaginary fantasy. Even if he didn’t quite remember falling asleep. Even when he felt cool linoleum against his knees as he dropped automatically in front of Medic. Even when Medic slipped himself into Scout’s mouth and his eyes rolled back like a good conditioned fuckdoll, he always knew that everything happening right now was just a silly, spontaneous dream he would forget about later. It felt so good to be dreaming.
And when Medic was finished with him, Scout knew it would be time to stumble out of the med bay and right back to his own bed, and wake up from his dream. Wake up with no memories of the dream except a nice, happy fuzzy feeling and the knowledge that nothing strange at all had happened. Just like he always did.
you know how kaa is infamously a lot of kids' first exposure to hypnokink? i think mr mxyzptlk from the superman animated series is that for instant loss
synopsis: Engineer's employer has an important conversation with him about his future, and the future of Team Fortress. It's the last free conversation Engineer will have for a while.
content: hero/villain dynamic, anonymous dom, forced brainwashing, forced personality change, resisting, serial recruitment/being brainwashed into enslaving your friends, no sexual content, dialogue only
“Hello again, Dr Conagher. It’s been a quite a few hours since I left you here. Tell me, has your opinion regarding my planned acquisition of your colleagues changed at all in that time?”
“Uhhh… ughmmm… please… no….”
“Ah, I see not. That’s a shame. Do the visor’s head fittings need tightening, Dr Conagher? I’d hate for you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Please… begging… you don’t… want... do this…”
“Ah, don’t be silly, Dr Conagher. You’re intelligent enough to understand pleading has no effect on my decisions. Although, if you’ve resorted it to it, it means you’ve accepted that there is no other form of escape from your conditioning, which is a good sign.”
“Whatever you want… I… I can help you, just please, let me… let me…”
“Yes, I know you could decide to help me, Dr Conagher. You’ve been so helpful in assisting me in the past. But why should I take your word for it, when I could reprogram you into a reverent slave who can’t even think of questioning my orders?
Please, Dr Conagher. I’m sure you must feel awfully terrified and betrayed right now, being completely immobilised and helpless in my brainwashing chamber, but try to stay calm. Take a breath and keep looking at the pretty subliminals. All those difficult feelings you’re feeling are going to fade away very soon.
And really, Dell, you should be taking this as a compliment. You really are one of the most brilliant inventors on Earth. So brilliant I can’t possibly allow you to be a liability. So brilliant, you’ve been selected as my very first and most useful brainwashed slave. Doesn’t that knowledge make you feel proud?”
“I… God… no… no.…”
“You’re resisting awfully strongly, Dr Conagher, in a way that only delays the inevitable. Is it that you’re afraid of losing your intelligence to me? Are you frightened, imagining that surrendering your mind completely and letting the lights think for you, which you surely want to do so badly now, is going to scrub away all eleven of those doctorates into nothing? That allowing yourself to be brainwashed will stupefy you into a vacant, drooling pet for me?
There’s no need to be afraid, Dr Conagher. That’s not how this particular brainwashing technique works. After all, what would be the point of me hunting down and enslaving one of the most brilliant men in the world, if I were just going to turn you into a slack-jawed, empty-headed bimbo? I could turn anybody into a slack-jawed bimbo if I wanted.
No, this particular brainwashing machine won’t harm your delicate, invaluable genius at all, Dell. It simply overwrites your emotional loyalties. All those silly reservations you had about working for me, about “professional ethics” and “sticking to contract” and “keeping your team out of it”, are going to go away, and be replaced with the simple, blissful knowledge that you exist to serve me.
You’ll keep your intelligence, Dr Conagher, because you will need it to follow my command. You will need it to invent at my command. You will need it to hunt down more slaves at my command. And at the end of each day, you will kneel before my feet and thank me for rescuing you from your old foolish, ignorant thoughts of resistance, because your perfectly programmed brain won’t be able to imagine a single bliss other than pleasing me.”
“I… no… no….”
“Shhhhh. There’s no need for that silly, defiant attitude, Dell. I’m simply describing the reality of what will happen when you accept surrender.
So, taking your inevitable corruption as a given, let’s discuss what will happen in the future. There’s the matter of your colleagues, of course… your teammates. What is it they are called? ‘Team Fortress Two?”
“They… they’ll know I’m… they’ll be able to… to f-find me here… won’t… get away with this.…”
“No, Dr Conagher. We both know none of your colleagues will find you. They’re already well-accustomed to you disappearing for days to work on your projects. And by the time any of them do notice how long you’ve been missing, you’ll already be my slave. The reason I bring up your colleagues is because, of course, they’re the next step in the process.”
“N-no....”
“Yes. I’m not just going to take you as my property, Dr Conagher, valuable as though you are. I want the full set. I think, once you’ve come to accept your proper place of submission, the next logical target for brainwashing is the Medic. You’re the two the team most relies on, after all.
And this Medic, we understand, already trusts you. After you’ve become a sufficiently conditioned slave, I’ll simply place you back with your team, with orders to pretend you still have free will while manufacturing some excuse to get the Medic alone. You’ll betray and bring him here to me, and from there it will be a simple matter of rewriting the Medic’s mind into perfect obedience. Just as yours is being rewritten now.
Once the two of you are deeply brainwashed and working together, it should be quite easy to convert the rest of the team with minimal resistance. The Scout, Soldier, Pyro, Demoman and Sniper can each easily be separated from the rest of the group and subverted. The ‘Heavy’, Mikhail, seems to have an impressively strong willpower… but he trusts his doctor, and once the Medic is on my side, that trust can be exploited by any means necessary to lead him to submission.
The final element of the set would be the Spy. Now, given he’s the only member of the team who stands any chance at all of evading me, logically the best thing to do would be to neutralise him as soon as possible after you. Kidnap and reprogram him into a willing agent of the conspiracy, before he even has the chance to notice the conspiracy exists.
Yes, that would be the most sensible course of action. But… ah. Blast it. I do so love imagining the delightful cat and mouse game of leaving this ‘spy’ until last. Allowing him, in his intelligence, to grasp my true nature as the threat hunting his colleagues. Watching as he flees to any place he thinks is safe from me, trying desperately to understand just how inescapable my programming is. And finally, finally, watching that sweet terror deflate into dull obedience as he’s strapped into the chamber and sinks into the deep brainwashing he was always going to sink into. The lucky last, unquestioningly loyal member of my very own personal mercenary team.
Oh, just imagine it, Dr Conagher. Don’t you understand what’s going to happen to you? Doesn’t it just sound perfect? Having your mind broken and reprogrammed into such a perfect, fundamental devotion to my will, that you’ll happily betray your former colleagues into my clutches as well? Isn’t it wonderful, knowing you’ve been selected as the very first step in brainwashing the nine most dangerous mercenaries into working entirely at my beck and call?”
“N-no….”
“Yes it is, Dr Conagher. You just haven’t accepted it yet. But that’s alright. This machine’s brainwashing process – the process of hollowing out all those independent thoughts, of sinking you down into impossibly deep trance and rebuilding your worldview from the ground up - is designed to take a full 48 hours, and we’re only on hour 5. You haven’t even noticed the way you’re slurring and drooling on yourself, have you, Dell? You haven’t even noticed the way your higher brain activity has reduced by 52% since you were locked into the machine. And soon, you won’t be capable of registering anything at all. Nothing at all but the pretty subliminals in front of you. Keep staring, Dell.”
“Mmnnn… nnn… hh.…”
“Shhhhhh. No use prolonging the inevitable, darling. Stare. Go blank. Let it happen.”
“B-bb… blank… please no... I don’t want to be....”
“I’m going to give you some more alone time in the chamber now, Dr Conagher. Goodbye, and see you two days from now. I think you’ll find your attitude towards me and my goals will have changed a great deal by then.”
hello, this might be a long shot, but do you recall writing a caption story on here with a public lesbian wrestling match, and one woman hypnotises the other (i think with her body or her tits)? it stuck in my mind for ages but cannot find it again no matter how hard i search through your old posts.
Sorry, doesn't ring a bell. Anyone else know this one? Might not be one of mine.
This definitely rings a bell but it’d be hard to find cause I think it was at least a year or two ago. If we’re thinking about the same story: I recall that it wasn’t actually a wrestling match, it was a hypnosis duel that people treated as a competitive sport to watch (oh the dream). I remember that it was kinda framed as a rookie trying to hold her own up against someone who was practically undefeated and lo and behold the rookie is easily outmatched by her condescending opponent.
I’m sure it was you because I remember really loving the concept a lot since you don’t see switchy dynamics like that embraced in erotica too often. Idk if that helps, I hope it does. Also I recall it not having a photo attached, so @getawhirl do you remember if it did or not? If it did it might have been lost in the Tumblr NSFW purge unfortunately.
hello, this might be a long shot, but do you recall writing a caption story on here with a public lesbian wrestling match, and one woman hypnotises the other (i think with her body or her tits)? it stuck in my mind for ages but cannot find it again no matter how hard i search through your old posts.
Sorry, doesn't ring a bell. Anyone else know this one? Might not be one of mine.
This definitely rings a bell but it’d be hard to find cause I think it was at least a year or two ago. If we’re thinking about the same story: I recall that it wasn’t actually a wrestling match, it was a hypnosis duel that people treated as a competitive sport to watch (oh the dream). I remember that it was kinda framed as a rookie trying to hold her own up against someone who was practically undefeated and lo and behold the rookie is easily outmatched by her condescending opponent.
I’m sure it was you because I remember really loving the concept a lot since you don’t see switchy dynamics like that embraced in erotica too often. Idk if that helps, I hope it does. Also I recall it not having a photo attached, so @getawhirl do you remember if it did or not? If it did it might have been lost in the Tumblr NSFW purge unfortunately.
i know for a fact that this story wasn't yours, but there is a hypnostory i found years ago on tumblr that's driven me absolutely INSANE trying to find it again. it was about a college student volunteering for a hypnosis study where they have to try and resist an erotic brainwashing machine for as long as possible. i specifically remember that they would be paid $321 for participating in the study, and the last thing they remember for they drop is the amount 3 2 1 which serves a countdown trigger. i have searched every single hypnokink blog i can find for hours and cannot find any trace of it. obviously you don't have to post this ask but i would be so grateful if any of your followers had any idea what i was talking about
