AmyThePuppyBarking

This is just my horny tumblr where I do some fun just random thoughts and also reposting stuff I want to jack off too. I’m very much into pet play, mostly puppy and cow themed. Also into hypno. Yall can just call me Amy 19 yr old Cis woman

[meoowtea]

i think my issue is that i am intelligent yet i hate it i don’t want to do all this stress and learning i just want to be stupid and happy and for someone to take care of me and make me feel pleasure and good things js use me atp make me stupid make me submissive hypnotise me already please!!!

[jukeboxemcsa]

Amber Makes It Easy

It was always so nice to have an intern who was eager to please. Not that Nathaniel wouldn't have been able to get his hypnotic hooks into Amber's mind anyway, but it made it so much easier when she had that constant look of quizzical expectation behind her warm brown eyes, betraying a mind that was always attempting to read the older man's expression and body language to see if what she was doing was actually what she wanted. Nathaniel barely even had to hypnotize her at all, honestly--within the first few days he found that a faint furrow of his brow or an appreciative smile was enough to modify the brunette's day-to-day behavior.

But of course that wasn't enough for what Nathaniel had in mind, and he quickly arranged for Amber to come over to his house so they could finish up some work he'd brought home with him. He told her his wife would cook dinner, which undoubtedly reassured her, but of course Melanie had started out as one of Nathaniel's interns back before she graduated to the role of spouse and a single whispered word was enough to render her blissfully oblivious to anything her husband was doing. And as expected, Amber was so determined to show off how studious and attentive and accommodating she was that she didn't even wonder why Nathaniel was waxing rhapsodic about the candles at the dinner table. She simply stared as directed, sank as instructed, and the only difficulty Nathaniel had was in reminding her to keep her eyes on the flame and not glancing over to his face to see if she was doing it right.

After that, things got easier. Nathaniel made sure to install a pleasure trigger in Amber's brain that first night, aided capably by his wife and her expertly licking tongue, and the heady mix of her own need for approval and the drifting sexual ecstasy she felt whenever she did what was told soon degraded whatever resistance Amber initially possessed. Nathaniel didn't even bother with an amnesia suggestion; he knew that Amber would internalize any negative emotions she felt about their increasingly lewd interactions in the office, blaming herself for getting down on her knees and polishing his cock with her mouth until he shot his load down her accommodating throat. She was the one who enjoyed sucking his dick, after all. And she was the one who'd started dressing sluttier and sluttier each and every day.

Even when she was down on her knees, though, her tits out and her mouth full of Nathaniel's thrusting cock, Amber still looked up at him with that same meekly desperate desire to make sure she was doing what she wanted. She wordlessly pleaded for his approval, her eyes wide and soulful as she slid her tongue against the underside of his glans in an effort to get him to nut quicker and harder and more urgently, and Nathaniel didn't need to fuck her face more than once to know she was a real keeper. The intern program only lasted six months, but Nathaniel always had a voice when it came to bringing someone on as a permanent hire… and given that about half the company was staffed with his little projects, it was a voice that was always heard and obeyed.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[growth-opportunities]

When I caught the shortstack virus I wasnt too worried at first, how could losing a couple inches of height possibly be so bad? And I get some extra curves on top of that? Win-win!

I've been a beanpole my whole life so I thought the deal would be pretty sweet, even me out and all that. Well, ive lost over a full foot of height and my curves are big enough that I can't see my toes anymore, and my ass serves as my personal booster seat! I'm starting to think that this wasnt really the upgrade i thought it would be...

That's the tricky part of things like the Shortstack Virus or when people figure out how to trade IQ points for cup sizes: people always overestimate how much they can afford to lose. At least in your case, you don't really get to choose how severe your strain of the virus is, but it's almost always stronger than people expect.

The changes start out exciting enough. A little extra tit, a little bonus ass, all for a few inches that you'll barely miss. Whatever looseness in your clothes comes from your diminishing height is offset by your growing curves, keeping the fabric tight. You feel confident. You feel sexy. You feel a little clumsy, but you're still getting used to the fact that the ground is a little closer than it used to be. Who cares? You've got tits now!

But the virus still has to run its course. The ground keeps getting closer and everything else is getting bigger, especially your own curves. Your widening hips keep bumping into things. Your tits squish against anything and everything. You try to reassure yourself that this is still what you wanted, but the struggles are mounting. Things that used to be easily in reach now require you to use a stool or jump for them, which just makes your ballooning curves wobble obscenely. Now that you're starting to dip below the heights of other people, they take you less seriously, some even giggling at your shrinking stature.

It only gets worse from there. So much of your mass is shifted to your chest that the only reason you don't fall over is that your ass balanced you out. Forget trying to find a bra that fits. You're shrunk small enough now that even custom bra makers would think your measurements were a joke. You wobble obscenely with every little move you make, whether that's sliding out of bed and hitting the floor or having to hop to get up onto a chair. With your curves being your defining features, that's all anyone sees of you. Some of them even try to pick you up like a little, plush doll! It's not all bad for you, though. Your bed feels so much bigger now and so much of your time is spent laying in it, groping your huge tits with one hand while the other moves between your thick thighs. Your body is so soft and so curvy and so damn sensitive; you can't stop yourself!

Of course, it may not seem like it, but you're one of the lucky ones.

Just imagine what the virus would do to someone who wasn't tall to begin with...

[voxhypno]

Very simple rule to remember about bimbos, pets, or hypnosluts of any shape.

Nipples hard = brain stupid.

[jukeboxemcsa]

Maddy Keeps Quiet

They… they had to hear her, didn't they? Yes, the television was on, and Maddy could hear the sound of music alongside the conversation Dave was having with his friends, but--but she wasn't exactly giving the quietest blowjob right now. Even though she wasn't moaning or whimpering or anything, she could hear the 'gluk gluk gluk' sounds her throat was making as she bobbed up and down on Dave's shaft in an effort to fit as much of him into her mouth as humanly possible. Dave's buddies had to hear that sound. They had to know what was going on behind the bar Dave had installed in his basement. One of them was sure to come around and look at practically any second.

But even if they did, Maddy wasn't sure if she was afraid of that or desperately hoping for it. If they did, at least theoretically one of them might recognize Maddy and wonder just why Dave's neighbor from down the block was giving him a sloppy blowjob behind the bar while he chatted amiably with his friends as if nothing was happening. They might actually ask her why she was sucking the dick of a man a good fifteen years older than she was, and when Maddy couldn't take the thick cock out of her mouth long enough to answer them they might even figure out that he'd messed with her head somehow to turn her into his personal on-demand fleshlight. And if that happened, they'd--they'd make him stop, right?

Maddy realized that was where the fear came from, drowning out her hope with increasing force the more she imagined the unfolding scenario in her head. As mortifying as it would be to find herself discovered like this, naked apart from an old belly tee from her teenage years so short it didn't even cover her pendulous breasts, the embarrassment wasn't what worried her. It was that if all these older men saw her down on her knees with a cock in her mouth and a glassy, empty stare, they wouldn't all jump to the conclusion that Dave was some kind of sinister hypnotist with a grip on the young college student's mind. They'd just want her to suck them off too… and she knew Dave would be only too happy to oblige them.

She could already picture it, and she knew Dave's hypnosis must be working its way deeper into her mind because she got wet at the notion even though it was exactly what she didn't want. Chuck, Hal, even Gordon who was the same age as her dad, all of them just lining up with big smiles on their faces to shoot their loads straight down Maddy's hungry throat. She knew all of them, she knew they'd watched her jog through the neighborhood more times than any of them could count, and even the ones she'd never actively caught leering at her had to have seen her tits bouncing up and down with every step despite the best efforts of her sports bra. They probably all fantasized about her at least a little.

It was that worry as much as the hypnotic spell she was under that kept Maddy silent… or at least, as silent as she could be with seven inches of dick plowing her face. Because Maddy understood that she was better off as Dave's dirty little secret, and she couldn't stop whatever might happen once that secret got out.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Jessie Comes to Heel

Jessie felt the collar before she saw it. The cool metal pressed against the sensitive skin of her throat from behind, wrapping around her neck just loosely enough to keep her from feeling strangled, and it snapped shut with a click that implied a lock as well as a latch. Jessie didn't even have time to process the first stab of panic and confusion before a woman stepped in front of her holding a leash clipped to a ring on the front of the collar--Jessie thought she recognized her from the campus directory, Professor Parkinson or Parkington or something--and asked, "Do you know what this is, slut?"

And obviously there was so much Jessie wanted to say. She wanted to tell this weirdo in black leather and platform heels that raised her height a full nineteen inches over Jessie's head that just because she was a blonde in a crop top and short shorts it didn't make her a slut, and she wanted to tell her that she had no business doing some weird BDSM thing to students, and she wanted to pointedly remind the professor that this was a public place and she could get fired for treating a student the way she was treating Jessie. But somehow all those defiant thoughts seemed to drain away into meek, simpering submission as she stared up into the older woman's deep brown eyes, and she found herself unable to say anything more than, "Y-yes ma'am. It's a leash and collar, ma'am."

The professor smirked. "And if you're leashed and collared, you must be a pet, mustn't you?" It seemed like a patently absurd assertion on the face of it, one that should have made Jessie bristle in defiance and pull free from the other woman's grip, but… but there was a scattering of other students around the quad, and none of them looked at her like she was the one in the right here. They all watched with a dispassionate interest tinged with the slightest hint of arousal, like they were all just waiting for the moment when Professor Parks tugged on the leash and put this dumb bitch in her place, and it sapped the strength and energy from Jessie's resistance so swiftly and completely that she couldn't even speak. She just nodded deferentially, and something seemed to click into place inside her mind the same way the collar clicked shut around her throat.

The older woman said, "Pets don't wear clothes, sweetie," and whatever part of Jessie still remained free and clear inside her head was kind of amazed by how quickly she stripped out of her clothing. It was like the initial struggle to refuse her new role was the most important one, and now that she'd lost that battle she couldn't refuse all the logical corollaries that came along with being a leashed and collared animal instead of a human being. Her short shorts, her panties and her bra all came off, and when the professor noticed Jessie's dilemma in getting the crop top past the leash around her neck she simply yanked the shirt so hard it tore, allowing Jessie to slide it down past her waist instead. Within moments, she was totally naked.

Then the older woman tugged on the leash, driving Jessie down to the grass, and accompanied the physical command with a lovingly snarled, "Down, girl." Jessie got on all fours, her thoughts already fading into stupefied surrender as she accepted her place, and she crawled obediently away from the quad and her old life at the heels of her new owner. And the most embarrassing thing about it all was that everyone behind her could see how wet she was.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[jukeboxemcsa]

Rhonda Gets Unleashed (But Still Leashed)

A man came into the room that Rhonda only vaguely recognized, one of a very few of Jim's co-workers that didn't outright leer at her whenever he brought her along to the company parties. She didn't remember his name, but she remembered that he was new, and it was an obvious sign of just how well he was getting along with Rhonda's husband that he was naked with a jutting erection and a sinfully crooked smile on his face. "So, Puppy," he said, unhooking Rhonda's leash from the peg on the wall and giving it a little tug, "I hear you like to be useful. Do you want to show me all the ways you can be useful to me, hmm?"

Rhonda let out a tiny grunt of arousal as her eyes briefly unfocused; Jim must have told this man plenty, because he was saying all the right things to rub hard on the clit in Rhonda's mind and make her wet and needy and eager to please. She didn't even need the leash to draw her closer to the man's urgent, leaky erection--just the act of removing it from the hook acted as a hypnotic trigger to turn Rhonda into her dumb, happy puppy-self and Puppy always knew what to do with a bone. She knelt in front of him, her lips engulfing his whole shaft all the way down to the base without bothering to wait for an instruction, and his gasp of pleasure was enough to make Rhonda drip onto the carpet.

He tightened his grip on the leash, not to hold Rhonda in place but simply to remind her of the dynamic between them, and his hips began to rock back and forth as he plowed her mouth with his hard cock. "That's a good Puppy, that's a good dumb horny Puppy for Master," he purred, and Rhonda's cunt got so wet she could actually feel it leaking down her thighs; they were all Master to her, every man that Jim brought home and gave permission to hold the leash, and the delicious degradation of being a free-use cocksleeve for anyone and everyone who asked did even more than the hypnosis to train Rhonda into obedience. She'd suck cock like this for hours if they let her.

But Jim's new friend couldn't last hours, and in fact the sheer ecstatic shock of finding out that his co-worker's wife didn't even have a gag reflex anymore meant he only lasted a handful of minutes, and soon the leash was back on the peg and the man was asking with slightly sheepish hesitation if she was doing okay and if she got what she wanted. Rhonda nodded eagerly to both, her eyes darting back and forth between the leash and the stranger's drooping cock--Puppy had a habit of lingering when she still had the collar on after giving oral, and she found that she really wanted to pant and smile and let her tongue loll out in blissful anticipation more than speak.

Thankfully, the man got the hint, and he took the leash back off the peg and sat down on the edge of the bed so that Rhonda could lavish attention on his heavy balls and bring him back to full mast. "You sure do have a way of convincing a guy, don't you, Puppy?" he asked, a playful smirk on his face, and Rhonda couldn't help it--she let out a little yip of agreement as her dumb doggy-brain took over. She didn't always go that deep, but something about giving this young man his first time made her really want to drop… and she could already tell that she wasn't going to let him leave until his balls were completely and totally drained.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[thousandpaws]

Puppygirl nuzzling into your neck, pressing her body against your chest and clinging onto you with her little paws

Puppygirl softly whining between her "thank you"s and adorable barks, her tail wagging and her breath quick from panting

Puppygirl licking your face so excitedly while you pet her head and glide your other hand down her back

Puppygirl who holds back a whimper and trembles in your arms when you call her a good girl, but slowly melts back into your embrace as you say it again, and again, and again

Puppygirl softly sighing and letting her eyes flutter shut as you comb your fingers through her hair and whisper in her ear telling her she's safe

Puppygirl who sleeps soundly in your arms, with a weight off her shoulders that she never knew was there

[growth-opportunities]

Got an idea: tiddy growth as punishment but also brain drain.

Being forced to take a pill that fogs your head and blows up your tiddies nice and fat and heavy @.@

Cruel laughter echoes in your ears, almost in perfect harmony with the moans that pour from your throat and the sound of creaking, stretching fabric. The ever-growing tightness of your bra, digging into the new, billowing flesh on your chest, sends pleasure through you, forcing you to arc your back and shove your swelling tits forward.

"Ouughhhnnn! Stooooopppp! My titties are, like, soooo biiiigggg!"

Your desperate, lewd, barely intelligible please just make the chorus of laughter ring out even louder. Your roommates just watch as you put on this lewd display for them. Cassie takes a swig from her drink and pushes off from the couch, sauntering over to you with chilling confidence. The envy you once felt for the curvy, blonde beauty is overpowered by your burning arousal; her bouncing tits make a perfect distraction as she approaches. You jump, both from surprise and a sudden surge of arousal from physical contact as she reaches down and grabs you by the chin, tilting your head up towards her.

"What's the matter, hm? You used to tell us all the time that our DDs meant we had more tits than brains! Those pills we gave you are just to make sure you know what that's really like! Now you have these oversized, lewd pornudders, just like you always wanted!"

While none of them are very long, your roommate's words are confusing, especially amid the arousal coursing through your body. Before you can even attempt a response, Cassie suddenly reaches down and seizes hold of one of your tits. Your mind flashes white. Pleasure fills every inch of your body. Your eyes roll back and your jaw drops open. Your moan trumpets from your throat but only for a second before being muffled. Cassie slams her hand down over your mouth, clamping it there to make sure you don't spit out the three more pills she just tossed in. While that hand stays firmly over your lips, the other moves to your throat, stroking it and coaxing you into swallowing the pills. You don't have any choice. The pills slide down and tumble into you. Immediately, even before Cassie lifts her hand away from your mouth, you can feel what little intelligence you have left burning away. Your tits surge, growing outward, bulging over your bra and threatening to, at any moment, destroy it entirely.

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but all that tumbles out is a series of disconnected syllables, too dumb and too horny to put anything else together. A sound hits your ears and you immediately perk up, now acting more on instinct than on any kind of coherent or intelligent thought. Your eyes track the pill bottle back and forth as Cassie shakes it in front of you. The sound of the pills rattling inside has you deeply entranced.

"God, you're so fucking dumb now! If you still had your bitty A cups, you'd still have more tits than brains!"

The laughter that comes after doesn't make sense to you. Nothing does anymore. That doesn't stop it, however, from making embarrassment burn in your cheeks, the arousal in your core burning ever hotter. You bounce your titties. You don't know why. It just feels right. It's who you are now. They're what you are. You're tits! And declaring yourself as such only makes your roommates laugh harder.

[stillvathek]

The Present

She had a present leftover. One she’d missed.

In all the excitement of the party and seeing all her friends it must have snuck in under the radar somehow. In her defence, it was only a small present. A small box, small enough to sit comfortably on the palm of her hand, wrapped in shiny pink paper.

It had a card attached, also pink and shiny. The card had no name in it. Just a heart.

Mysterious.

Still, mysterious wasn’t bad, and it wasn’t as if she was going to turn down another present. It was probably just one of her friends being coy. They’d ask about it sometime soon and then she’d find out who it was and why they thought this was cute. Not a problem. She unwrapped the paper.

Inside the pink paper was a pink box, sitting pretty. She’d never much liked pink. She opened the box.

Inside the pink box was a pink collar.

A pink collar.

That stopped her. She sat and stared at it. She’d seen things like this, of course, she wasn’t sheltered or anything like that. She just couldn’t work out why she had been given one. Why anyone would thought this would be a good present for her.

It had to be a joke.

Morbidly curious she, gingerly, took the collar out from where it had been sitting all snug and secure in the box. She turned it over in her hands. Pink, as said, with a slight iridescent sheen to it that caught the light as she moved it around. The shiny little clasp caught the light, too, and sparkled. It was shaped like a heart. Looked like it clicked together or something, but she couldn’t be quite sure.

This had to be a joke. She didn’t get it, though.

For such a small thing it had remarkable weight. It wasn’t heavy by any means, but she certainly knew she was holding it. She wasn’t even sure what that meant, but it was just very present. She found herself staring and, for a moment, wondered how that small, soft, steady weight would feel around her neck.

She shivered.

Ridiculous. What sort of person would wear a collar, anyway? She’d seen teenagers with that sort of thing, sure, just as a silly fashion statement, but she didn’t think that counted. She meant legitimately, seriously. Who would let themselves be collared? Like a pet? And with a collar like this?

All pink. Shiny…

She had to shake her head and finally stopped staring. Was it getting warmer? Maybe the heating had come on. She hastily tried to put the collar back into the box with a view to shutting it and pushing the thing away and out of mind but, in her efforts to do so, the little buckle on the front popped open.

And she stopped. She was staring again.

Would it hurt, really? Just trying it? Just once? For a second?

She’d picked it up and was halfway to putting it around her neck before she realised and stopped. What was she doing? This was silly. This was a joke present someone had given her, to make fun of her. It wasn’t serious. She didn’t want to wear a collar!

But her hands didn’t go down, and the collar stayed there, inches from her and open.

Why was her heart beating so fast?

Her hands moved on their own. It took a second. The collar closed and locked with a soft click.

She gasped. Why had she done that?

Too late now. Might as well see how it felt. Her hands dropped.

It wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. She’d sort of expected it to be tight or uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. It fit her perfectly, even if she turned her head. If it wasn’t for that light, constant weight and the cool touch of the clasp on her skin she might forget it was on at all. She could just carry on wearing it so easily…

Not that she would. But she could.

Deciding that since this was the one and only time she’d ever do anything like this she got up so she could find a mirror and see what she looked like all collared. Just because. It’d never happen again, so she should see. Morbid curiosity, again. This just was a joke.

She found a mirror. She looked at herself.

It was…

It…

Why was she biting her lip?

The collar just looked so pretty around her neck like that. She didn’t even mind that it was pink. The way the light made it turn all other sorts of pretty shiny colours. The way the clasp looked, so cute. It suited her. She looked like she belonged in it. Like it shouldn’t ever come off.

She had to look away. What was that? What was happening?

Just tired. The party. That was it. Tired.

Time to go to bed.

And of course she had to take the collar off for that, and so she reached up to undo the clasp. And couldn’t. She tried it all the obvious ways she could think of, trying to slide it apart up or down, trying to press so it’d release. None of it worked. Even looking in the mirror (and seeing again just how pretty and perfect it looked on her) so she could see what she was doing didn’t help.

She had to be missing something. She’d opened it once, and that had been by accident! Surely she could do it again. It couldn’t be that hard. It wasn’t like she was stupid or anything. A bubble of panic started to swell in her belly. Was she going to have to try and cut if off? She couldn’t even fit her finger under it! What if it was around her neck forever?

Then all at once she calmed. She was being silly. It was fine.

It was fine.

She was just tired, that’s why she couldn’t do it. It wasn’t anything to get worried about. And it was so comfortable she could just keep it on until morning, and then she could figure it out. Yes. She could just sleep in it, she could just keep it on. It was fine. After all, she’d been heading to bed anyway when she’d noticed the present, so she was all ready to go already.

And so she did.

And so she was in bed, under the covers, trying to get to sleep.

Trying and failing.

Because all she could think about was how snug and comfy and perfect the collar felt. She kept touching it. Something about it, about it being there, about being aware it was on her, just made her feel so safe. Looked after, somehow. It was weird, she couldn’t explain it, but then again she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to feel it.

And she thought about how she’d looked. How she still looked.

Pets wore collars, didn’t they? And if the pet was particularly cherish and adored, they got a fancy, pretty collar, yes? 

That’s what had popped into her head when she’d seen herself. Before thinking about how pretty the collar actually looked around her neck and how much it suited her, before any of that. The first thought, the one she’d pushed down, had been about that.

Had been that she looked like a pet.

And now her hand was between her legs. When had that happened? Now she was whimpering and feeling how wet she was, thinking about how much she looked like someone’s beloved, owned pet. Like someone’s property.

Safe in her collar.

Maybe…

Maybe tomorrow she could keep it on a bit longer? She wasn’t doing anything tomorrow, wasn’t going out. No-one would see. Who would know? It wasn’t like she needed to take it off, and really even the idea of taking it off made her a bit sad now. It’d feel like she was losing something important.

Fingers slid in. She gasped.

Yes, important. So important. It showed what she was. People would see the collar before they saw her. If anyone saw. Which they wouldn’t. But if they did…

A pet. Just a pet. Not a person. Something, not someone.

Fingers moving faster, hips working.

It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Being a pet? Being owned? Being safe? Being looked after? She wouldn’t have to think or worry or choose or decide or do any of those things that only ever made her unhappy. Pets were happy. Pets looked up at their owners with big, happy, empty eyes and cocked their heads because words were so hard to understand but pats on the head were so good.

She was panting. One hand between her legs, the other on her collar.

Her collar. Taking it off tomorrow? She sort of remembered wanting that. Felt weird now. Why would she want that? Was she even allowed to do that?

No. It was staying on. It had to. It needed to. She belonged in it. Why pretend she didn’t?

That’s why someone had given it to her. Someone knew who she was. What she was.

Yes. Someone knew.

Why fight it? She couldn’t fight it.

Why resist it? She couldn’t resist it.

She was close, but her fingers were slowing. She whined. Why slow?

She knew why.

A pet would need permission.

Yes, a pet needed permission. She needed permission. Those weren’t hers.

She slowed and whined and whimpered and her hips jerked but she got no closer.

Not for her.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would find who owned her now. She would ask permission. She would beg. She’d do tricks and beg. She would go through all of her friends and ask. She would ask who owned her now. She’d show them what a good pet she’d be for them, and they’d reward her. Good pets were rewarded.

Yes. Tomorrow. Owner. Reward.

Happy now. A happy pet. Collared.

Loved her collar.

Collar. Safe.

Happy.

She smiled. She kept playing.

Eventually, she fell asleep.

Eventually.

[hypnopum]

“Oh, honey, look at you, you were so smart twenty minutes ago.” Your hypnotist said, gently cupping your cheek with a hand. “Now look at you. So stupid…” Your hand was moving, out of your control. They laughed at you. “It’s okay, you look good like this.”

Their laughter made everything feel so hazy. Like your thoughts were treacle. You didn’t want to think. You couldn’t think. “All that IQ, all those thoughts, and ideas, drained down between your legs. Keep touching yourself for me.” Like you could stop, even if you wanted to.

They leant down, closer to you. Their scent filled your nostrils, making your brain even foggier. “Touch yourself stupid. That’s a good toy. I want you braindead. Hey, what’s two plus two?”

Your brain was stalling. There was an answer there but… “F-f-”

The word wouldn’t leave your lips. Your hypnotist laughed again. “Oh, f-f-” They were mocking you, and it just turned you on more. “Come on toy, you can answer that. Surely you haven’t got that stupid, have you?”

“Fuck…” You finally said. Was that the answer? You didn’t know.

They were laughing harder now. “Awh, I guess you have got that stupid.” Their hand moved to your head, tousling your hair, as they stood back up. “Well, let’s see what else you’ve forgotten. Where do you live?”

There was only one word in your brain. “Fuck.”

You didn’t know if that was the only thing you could say. Or if it was just all that was on your mind, as your hand kept moving. “Good! And what’s your name?” They asked.

You tried to resist saying it. “F-mmmnh-fuck!” But by now, your mouth was beyond your control.

“That’s right, fuck.” They leant down again, close to you. “That’s your name. You just told me. So why wouldn’t it be? Such a good toy. So brainless. Keep touching. Keep sinking. I want to see how long it takes before you actually damage your brain!”

* * *

This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!

You can also buy my book, Mesmorium, now, on Amazon, and Smashwords. It's an anthology of twelve tales of deliciously hot hypnosis and mind control. It's queer, and sexy as hell!

[jukeboxemcsa]

Caitlin Apologizes

"Wake up, we're here." It was only when she heard the words that Caitlin realized she'd fallen asleep on her first date with Ryan, nodding off in the car on the way to the restaurant like she couldn't think of anything more stultifyingly boring than spending time with the cute guy from down the hallway. Her eyes went wide with mortified embarrassment, and she heard herself beginning to stammer a series of apologies every bit as incoherent as they were futile. Ryan was going to think she didn't have any interest in him, he wasn't going to take her out ever again, and their daily interactions in the lobby and the halls would become more awkward than ever. Unless….

An idea suddenly occurred to her like a flashbulb bursting inside her brain, and before she could even fully think it through Caitlin leaned across the car into the driver's seat and unzipped Ryan's fly right there in the middle of the restaurant parking lot. Thankfully it was dark out, and Ryan had chosen a spot set a little ways back from the entrance, so they were hidden from the view of any prying eyes as she pulled out his cock and began to slurp it up and down in a show of performatively enthusiastic fellatio. It made such perfect sense to Caitlin--there was no way he could think she didn't like him if she went down on his stiff prick before they could even have their first meal together. He'd have to realize the depths of her crush once he came in her mouth.

For a moment he didn't react, or at least not verbally, and the only thing that kept Caitlin from panicking at her own unexpected boldness was the twitching, throbbing cockhead against her tongue. But then he tangled his fingers into her shoulder-length blonde hair and purred, "That's a good girl," and something inside Caitlin's mind went liquid with warm, drowsy bliss. She was a little bit surprised to discover just how happy Ryan's soft, coaxing voice made her, but that momentary bewilderment was soon subsumed into a wave of submissive ecstasy and she began to bob up and down on his shaft with ever more vigorous enthusiasm. She ached to show him just how grateful she was for his patience with her inexplicable exhaustion.

It vaguely, notionally occurred to her that there was something familiar about Ryan's soothing tones, reminding her of the long drive to the restaurant and the unaccountable weariness that tugged her eyelids into slipping shut and her mind into dazed, dreamy oblivion. But that only made her want to suck him off that much more, and Caitlin soon found that the more she tried to think the more she wound up wanting to gulp and guzzle the whole length or Ryan's cock instead. Until her whole mind simply arrowed down to a single point, and that point was making Ryan cum, and when she finally did it she swallowed every last drop of his cum so perfectly that not even a little bit of it leaked past her lips and onto his jeans.

His crotch was still wet with Caitlin's drool, though, and it made perfect sense when he told her they couldn't go into the restaurant looking like this. Caitlin straightened up in her seat, all apologies, but Ryan was very sweet and offered to make her something home-cooked back at his place. Caitlin agreed, overjoyed that he was being so sweet to her, and although she was determined to stay awake and attentive on the way home it was only a mile or two before her eyelids began to droop and flutter all over again.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)

[stillvathek]

Stephanie really should have been more careful in the things she opened online.

If she had, she probably wouldn’t have been stuck staring at the swirling, pulsing colours on her phone screen, probably wouldn’t have her hand between her legs, wouldn’t be sitting there in a damp patch on her chair.

Wouldn’t have been helplessly repeating the same words over and over again.

Men matter more, Master matters most

How long had it been? She had no idea. She couldn’t think. At first she’d been afraid, scared at how she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried. That had been a long time ago now. That was long gone now. Now the idea she could stop simply wouldn’t fit into her head. She couldn’t. She hadn’t been told to stop, and so she couldn’t stop. Just the pretty colours, just playing, just the words.

Men matter more, Master matters most

When it had started and her hand had moved and the words had come out of her mouth all on their own, she’d been shocked. It took her repeating them a few times for it to properly sink in what it was she was actually saying. She was appalled, but she couldn’t stop. She tried to ignore the words, but she was saying them, and so she couldn’t. Eventually she started repeating them along in her head. Then she didn’t want it to stop, because the words felt safe.

Now they weren’t really words at all, at least not out loud. Mostly just moans and mumbles. But in her head they were still there, over and over, on an endless, comforting loop.

Men matter more, Master matters most

Hours later, once her room was dark, her housemate knocked on the door.

“Steph? You okay in there? Heard some- Oh my God, Steph! Are you okay?”

He came in and snatched the phone out of her hand and all at once Stephanie could move again. And she did, dropping instantly to her knees by his feet.

The connection was made instantly in her head, and made forever.

Man. Master. Master matters most.

Her Master.

“What-” was about all he managed to say before she pulled down his flies and fished out his cock. Her hand around him cut off whatever he’d been thinking about, and her mouth taking him in made it very hard to care about what he might have wanted to say. Automatically he put a hand on top of her head. Automatically, her head started bobbing.

Her Master. Had to serve her Master. Master matters most. Serve. Please. All that mattered. Soft little slurps, quiet sucking sounds. Happy moans. Words were gone but she didn’t need them. There were better ways of showing how he was her whole world.

Fingers laced through her hair and held her tight in place as he came, not that he needed to. She wouldn’t waste him. She swallowed and swallowed and then gasped when he finally let her lean back. Panting, she nuzzled against him adoringly, happier than anything. Her Master.

“That was good,” he said, breathless, smiling. Stephanie’s gut swooped. She did good.

She could do better.

Men matter more, Master matters most

[stillvathek]

Be porn, suck cock.

It's really simple. There's no trick to it. It's super easy so even the dumbest of girls (like you) can follow it without getting too confused. It's so easy!

Be porn, suck cock.

You've watched porn. You've seen what the girls do in it. You know what you need to do! The sounds to make, how to move. You won't be as good as them right away but that's fine - practise makes you perfect, and practising this will be fun!

Be porn, suck cock.

Maybe you're worried. Maybe you're worried you'll look stupid or people won't take your seriously or whatever. Don't be! Because you will! You'll look stupid and no-one will take you seriously! But that's the whole point. Right now you just think you don't want that, but that's just because you're all mixed up and turned around. You do want that!

Be porn, suck cock.

It'll feel new. It'll feel different. But it won't feel bad. And once you get over how new and different it feels you'll realise that it feels good. That you want to feel it more. That letting yourself sink to your knees and sink below being taken seriously is like a weight being lifted. Down on your knees with your mouth full everything is easier. With his hand patting your head all of those things you were worried about before seem so far away. Safer down there. Happier.

Be porn, suck cock.

Be a slut, be a doll, be empty, be mindless. Just let yourself switch off and let your needy cunt guide you. You don't need your brain for this - you don't want your brain for this! Switch off. Focus. Good girl.

Be porn, suck cock.

It's really very simple.

[lilibecomingsilli]

Reblog to trade 10 iq for +1 cup size

[dumb-pup-getting-dumber]

It's just a kink thing, right?

Well, that's how it starts, anyway. You wander around the internet, and you find out about it one way or another.

You see it on a blog, or maybe you find a transformation sequence comic, maybe you hear about it in kink spaces. It doesn't matter how you learn about it. The simple fact is you've never been so intrigued by an idea in your life.

Previously intelligent and useful people becoming the prettiest, dumbest versions of themselves and living happier lives for it. Star employees, honor students - the kind of people you've always fit right in with - being reduced to brainless, sex crazed arm candy. Free at last from the expectation to perform and struggle like everyone else.

There's a feeling in the pit of your stomach as you fall down the rabbit hole, an undeniable draw towards whatever this is. It resonates with you in a way that's at once frightening and oh so arousing. You play it off as nothing at first, you see strange things on the internet all the time and think nothing of them. Why should this be any different? But this is different, and you know that, you can feel it in your gut.

Before too long, you find yourself coming back to the rabbit hole to learn more. You read more blogs, you look at before and after photos, you find more transformation sequences. You start to get desensitized to the idea that maybe being a little dumb isn't such a bad thing. You start to join some online communities, you make some posts where you act much dumber than you really are, with short, easy words and not much substance. It's just your little secret. No one needs to know.

But you can't seem to help yourself. You find yourself making jokes to your partner or a few close friends about what a dummy you are, and at first, they try to argue with you, thinking you're just being self depreciating. At first, they insist you're one of the smartest, most capable people they know, and you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. As they start to realize that what you're saying is more soft launch than self depreciation, they stop saying that. You enjoy the way that compliments about your brain and capabilities have started to slow down, and with them, the expectations that you'll be useful and competent 24/7. One day, you can't take it anymore, and you tell your partner, only to find that they are surprisingly receptive.

At first, you indulge in private. It's just a silly game the two of you play. It helps you relax, and it even spices things up in the bedroom. They seem to enjoy it just as much as you do, so what's the harm in playing dumb sometimes? Your game doesn't stay in the bedroom for long, though.

In fact, you start to wonder how much of a game it really is. You realize that your partner has started taking on more responsibilities and making more of the decisions. At first, it bothers you, but they reassure you that they can do enough thinking for the both of you, and they want you to have plenty of time for all your new interests and hobbies.

Calling them hobbies feels funny to you. Hobbies require you to use your brain. What you've been doing lately is different. You smoke an ungodly amount of weed on a daily basis, and you're high most of the time now, which makes playing dumb easier than ever. You shop for hours every week, you obsess over your appearance, you spend more time on your back or on your hands and knees than you could have imagined just a couple of months ago.

You start taking better care of yourself. You exercise a few times a week now, you develop a rigorous skincare routine, you tan regularly. You didn't see the point of wearing makeup all the time before, but now you hate the idea of leaving home without putting your face on. You've started to become a bit high maintenance, and it takes you over an hour to get ready to go anywhere now. But you look the best you ever had, and your confidence is through the roof.

Your aesthetic starts changing, almost imperceptibly at first. You used to be content with a t shirt and jeans, maybe a flannel here and there. Up to now, your wardrobe has consisted of black t-shirts and jeans, but you find yourself drawn to tight dresses, brighter colors, and increasingly revealing cuts of clothing. You find yourself passing on your old clothes in favor of looking more fashion forward and showing more skin. Eventually, you donate all your old clothes or give them away to friends.

Then you start to notice it's spilling over into other areas. The movies you watch and the things you read start to get a little more simple and saccharine. You used to read thick nonfiction books with big words. Now everything you read is about sex and romance.

What's more, you find yourself reaching for books less and less. Your attention span is getting more fried by the day, but you try to write it off as work exhaustion. But you know deep down that it's more than that, and that scares you a little.

The first time you start to realize you may be getting in too deep is when your friends start talking. You used to have lively intellectual discussions, but now most of what they say doesn't make much sense to you at all. You try to join in on the parts of the conversation you can understand, but it's all above your pay grade. They used to value your input when you still had input to give.

But now you can barely hold up your end of a conversation.

You can't keep up with your friends the way that they used to, and little by little, they're all starting to notice. What surprises you the most is that they don't seem to mind very much. They've already started to think of you as the token airhead of the group, and they seem to have fully adjusted to the idea.

Now they just smile at you while you spout silly nonsensical theories, and they humor you with a listening ear. When you're finally done talking, they respond by saying things like, "Oh, honey." or, "You're SO pretty." Part of you wants to be upset at how obvious it's becoming that they no longer see you as an equal with valuable input. But mostly, you're just happy to hear so many people tell you how pretty you are. No one seemed to notice your looks before, and it feels good to get so many compliments.

The changes at your job take you the longest to notice. People used to come to you for guidance and direction. They took your ideas seriously, and you kept your team afloat with your quick thinking and inventive nature. Now you find that everyone has gradually started picking up more and more slack for you. You get talked over in meetings on the rare occasion you have anything to say, and eventually, you stop being invited to meetings altogether.

All the tasks that were second nature before are becoming more confusing to you by the day. You find yourself asking for help so much that most of the time, the task just ends up getting reassigned to someone more fit for the job, and why wouldn't they? You're not a top performer anymore. Now you're just eye candy.

You worry about getting fired now that most of your responsibilities have been given to your coworkers. You talk to your boss about your concerns, but he assures you that your position is safe. After all, how could they can everyone's favorite personality hire? The other employees would riot - or worse- unionize. It dawns on you that, like it or not, you've become the office mascot, and even though your wages haven't changed, you'll never be anything more than that again.

You go home frustrated and distraught and start to think about what your life was before you found this damned kink. Sometimes, it makes you sad to think of the ways that people used to treat you like someone who really had something to say. You make up your mind that this has to end right now. You can still get out of this and make people take you seriously again. You just have to rediscover the things you cared about before you started letting your intellect trickle away.

You find a box of books you loved before. It's collected dust from being ignored for such a long time, but you are so eager to reacquaint yourself with the big words and complex issues that used to mean so much to you. But as soon as you open the first book, you find you're already confused by the things it says, it might as well be in another language for as much as you don't understand it. You try to think of all the things you used to know about the topic, you try to make yourself understand. But you just can't.

You sit on the floor and start to cry. You've lost so much of yourself in such a short time. You used to have ideas and values you cared about. You used to have hobbies, real hobbies, things that required skill and thought. You used to be someone people respected, and now the game you played has enveloped every aspect of your life, and you don't even recognize yourself anymore.

Your partner hears your sobs and comes to check on you. You know that you have big feelings and maybe once you had the words to describe them, but that was ages ago. You sob into their shoulder and tell them that everyone thinks you're dumb and useless and you want to be smart again. They smile compassionately and pull you close as you heave and cry and whimper.

They put a hand on your face and say,

"Oh, baby. You don't seem to realize what a gift you've been given. You get to live out your fantasy in a way most people never do. You used to be so tired and overworked all the time, your coworkers thought you were a cutthroat bitch and your friends were all intimidated by you. Now everyone loves you! No one cares that you're the dumbest girl in town, they're just happy to have you around."

You wipe your tears and blow your nose as they offer their comfort. There is a tiny, infinitesimal part of you that knows their words should bother you. You should be arguing or defending yourself. But you wonder if maybe they're right. People have been so much more excited to see you and spend time with you lately, you've made so many new friends everywhere you go.

You look up at your partner. They smile at you softly. You blink back the last round of tears.

"So you don't think I'm just a useless bimbo?" You ask

"Oh, you're definitely a bimbo now, no two ways about it. You're the most beautiful and empty headed woman I've ever met. But you are far from useless." they say.

"But how am I useful?" you ask.

"Come upstairs and I'll show you" they say with a mischievous grin.

You spend the next two hours being fucked mercilessly in every hole. You scratch, and moan, whimper, and suck, so eager to please them and show how useful you can really be. They show you their gratitude in no uncertain terms. When it's over, they hold you in their arms, and you feel yourself getting sleepy.

As you lay there, sweat drenched and dripping wet, you start nodding off. You realize that this is what you want. You've found your life's purpose, and that purpose is to make everyone around you happy by being a gorgeous idiot with a bright smile and a body that won't quit. You're not useless at all, and now you're determined to be used by as many people as possible.

[jukeboxemcsa]

Laura Gets a Final Confirmation

"You know what it's going to do to you, right?" Laura was sure he did, you didn't get to this point without full awareness of what you were in for, but it always helped to satisfy her conscience to be absolutely sure that every man the met with was entering into this arrangement in full awareness of what they were giving up. That was why when Brandon nodded vacantly, looking up at her lush breasts and stiff pink nipples with an expression of thoughtless satisfaction on his freckled features, she didn't let him get away with it. "No," she chided gently, refusing to let him drift off into helpless titnosis. "I want you to tell me."

Brandon blinked heavily, and Laura could tell he was already having some trouble both in verbalizing his thoughts and in coming up with thoughts to verbalize. This close to her, just the lingering scent of her body was beginning to enact real, chemical changes within his brain as the aerosolized particles of Laura's very particular biological gift entered his nostrils and infiltrated his bloodstream. But she refused to lean in closer until he spoke, and eventually he mumbled, "I, um, I… it's gonna make me dumb," in a tone of yearning need. "I'm gonna drink your milk, and it's gonna make me all horny and dumb for you, ma'am."

He lazily reached up a hand to caress Laura's breasts, touching them in a spirit of almost reverent worship as his eyes went a little bit distant in daydreaming contemplation. "And when I'm dumb, I… I'll be yours, eager to please and h-happy to stick my dick wherever you tell me. You, uhh, you run a… like a stud farm, but for people?" His brow furrowed as he tried to verbalize the particular mechanics of Laura's highly exclusive private fertility clinic and the complexities of its precise legal status given the intimate nature of the insemination process, but with every breath a little more of his intellect slipped away and soon his forehead smoothed out into untroubled bliss. "And you're gonna want me to fuck a lot. I, I like fucking."

Laura nodded patiently. "And what else do you like, Brandon? I need to hear it before I'll let you drink." She didn't need to deliver the dose this way, of course; Laura had long ago isolated and synthesized the particular component of her breast milk that had such a dramatic effect on the human brain, and she could just as easily have slipped it into Brandon's morning coffee the day of his very first appointment. But turning it into a ritual helped to convince her subjects that they were surrendering to her in a profound and permanent fashion, and if they knew they were going to belong to her forever and they did it anyway then Laura didn't have to feel bad about having so many slaves.

And sure enough, Brandon sighed blissfully and murmured, "I like doing what I'm told, ma'am. I… I heard about this place, about you, and I instantly knew I just had to find you and drink your milk and be your dumb horny slave forever. Please, ma'am? Please can I have a taste now so I can stop thinking? Please?" It was enough to mollify Laura's conscience, and she put her hand around Brandon's and helped him squeeze the first few droplets of creamy liquid into his open mouth. The drug kicked in almost instantly, sending his brain into stupefied euphoria, and he didn't resist at all when she leaned down and pushed her nipple between his lips. He simply suckled at her teat, the first dose of many he would receive over the course of his service, and she didn't even have to reach between his thighs to know that his cock was getting rock-hard as all his fantasies were finally fulfilled.

(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)