she/her (24F). bisexual girl into hypno. mostly here to lurk but follow if you want. if you're not an adult leave. Bots pls stfu. I'm petty enough to block every single one of you
I like fucking you past the point where you can participate. There’s this moment where your hands stop gripping the sheets and just go slack and your voice drops from moaning to this low broken humming. Your eyes are open but you’re not behind them anymore. And I just keep going. Rocking into you while your body goes heavy and loose underneath me, your head tilting to the side, your mouth wet and slack against the pillow. Every thrust pushes you a little further away from consciousness. I can feel your pussy still reacting, still squeezing, still wet and warm and pulling me in, but you’re somewhere else entirely. Just this broken thing breathing underneath me while I use you. I cum in you while you’re fading and your hips roll up into me one last time. Muscle memory.
And then I pull out, clean you up, and tuck the covers around you.
You’ll wake up in the morning sore in places that make you blush. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. And draped over the chair by the bed is what I’ve picked for you today. The skirt that’s just short enough. The collar you pretend is a choker when your coworkers ask. The underwear that’s barely there, or maybe no underwear at all, just a plug and the understanding that you’ll wear it until I tell you otherwise. Everything folded neatly. Everything chosen. Head to toe… from the heels to the shade of lipstick I want to see on you later.
And you put it on. Every piece. You put it on because waking up to a laid-out outfit means someone thought about you before you were conscious. Someone looked at you asleep and dripping with their cum and thought about what they wanted you to be today. Someone wanted you so specifically that they planned your entire surface down to the details.
Wanting to be wanted is the most universal feeling there is. And there’s no bigger proof of that want than someone reshaping you into exactly what they need. Choosing which version of you walks out the door. That kind of attention means you’re being thought about, whether you’re in their bed ready to be fucked or not. It means you exist in someone’s mind as a project they’re building with their own hands, and there’s no bigger compliment than that.
Now go get dressed and be the fuckdoll I’ve always wanted.
Having ADHD and a hypnofetish being like “man I wish someone would hypnotize me to be a maid” and realizing I just want to be put on autopilot to do all the chores my executive functioning has me procrastinating on
(Note: All images shown are excerpts from larger works, properly linked to their sources.)
The artist who calls herself Stardazer is one of many who currently publish images of erotic hypnosis on Twitter. Her case illustrates the paradox of a vibrant but small artistic minority in a social media platform of global reach: many members of the English language hypnokink community avidly follow her, but she's unknown to the world at large, even though she is an original, very talented visual artist and a keen observer of both female eroticism and the physical realities of hypnosis.
I suppose she is a professional illustrator, who maintains her "vanilla" work separate from the erotic images she seems to keep making and publishing mainly for fun. If that's true, she would be no different than many other people who do the same out of discretion and reserve. I hope we only get to know her "real" name if she somehow overcomes the prejudices against both kinky and erotic art in general, and is recognized as the intriguing and unique artist that she is. Here I write about what makes her art truly remarkable.
One of the main traits of Stardazer's art is her interest on the female body. Though her style is somewhat cartoonish, there is nothing oversimplified or phony in her depiction of believable physiques. There is no male-gaze oversexualization either: in worlds that are almost exclusively populated by women (and magical creatures with female characteristics), they tend to be refreshingly soft, dressed (or undressed) only to elicit desire in other women, posed with careful attention to human anatomy and simple gravity.
In a visual culture that's heavily influenced by hentai and Western pornography and BDSM, Stardazer's characters are also strangely, stubbornly apart from most clichés of those kinds of erotic fiction. If I had to guess, I would think her influences lie more on 19th- and early 20th century illustration, from Harry Furniss to Frank C. Papé or (maybe more accurately) to such female artists as Elizabeth Shippen Green or Berthe Morisot, who used subtle, subdued color palettes and made the gaze of their subjects an important element of their compositions.
Two elements of "traditional" hypnokink art used frequently by Stardazer are tranced-out faces in general, and especially eyes as signifiers of altered states of consciousness. What's interesting of her approach, however, is the fact that her depictions can include spirals and swirls of light, as shown above, but can also be exact, absolutely realistic representations, free of exaggeration and stylization. Common, observable expressions, eccentric/warped movements of eyelids and eyeballs, serve her well to identify different trance states and even stages of the same trance, like the one in "New File", a deceptively simple one-page comic:
Other symptoms of trance are faithfully represented as well, from clenched hands or abnormally positioned limbs:
…to full-bodied expressions of mindlessness and arousal.
Stardazer has released two pay-what-you-can ebooks with stories, single drawings and even a guide to draw convincing tranced-out eyes. It's clear that her own obsessions include this phenomenon as well as hypnotic induction (usually told as a kind of seduction), lesbian love and monsterfucking, in which the usual tendrils and coils can penetrate as well as restrain, subduing their (un)willing victims even more.
Given the current environment on social media, which is already seeing a resurgence of right-wing bigotry, it's tempting to give in to worrying about the future possibilities of artists like Stardazer, who seem confined to a very small niche community. For now, however, she and other artists like her are still able to point to interesting (and sexy) new developments and directions for eroticism in the arts. 🌀
You’re lying across my lap, looking up at me with that expression I’ve come to recognize. The one that means you’re about to be annoying in a way I find incredibly attractive.
"What thing?"
"You know what thing." You tap your temple. "The brainwashing thing. Make me dumb again."
"I made you dumb three hours ago."
"And now I’m smart again and I hate it." You say this with genuine petulance, like intelligence is an inconvenience that’s been inflicted on you. "My thoughts are back. They’re loud. I don’t like them."
I run my fingers through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way I know you like. You make a sound that’s almost a purr and push up into my hand.
"You need breaks. Recovery time. You can’t just be a dumb doll forever."
"I mean, I could. We could try it and see."
"That’s not how brains work. You need to come back up so you can go back down. Otherwise you build tolerance."
"That sounds fake."
"It’s not fake. It’s neurochemistry."
"Okay but what if I just don’t care about neurochemistry?" You shift in my lap, restless, your hand finding its way to my thigh. "What if I care about being a drooling mess on your cock? Me and your cock. We have chemistry."
"You’re being bratty. That’s why I know you’re not ready. You’re going through dumb withdrawals."
"I’m not bratty, I’m horny. When I’m bratty I want to annoy you. Right now I want you to turn my brain off and fuck me stupid. Totally different energy."
"The answer is still no."
You sit up slightly, turning to face me. "You don’t understand what it’s like. When you do that thing with your voice and tell me to sink and stop thinking, it’s like… you know when you’re really stressed and you get into a hot bath?"
"That’s more of a you thing."
"Whatever. It’s like that but for my entire brain. Everything goes quiet and far away. And then you fuck me and I don’t have to worry about whether I’m doing it right or making weird faces because I’m too stupid to worry. I just feel things. It’s the best."
"Yeah I get it. I’m the one doing it to you. I know what it turns you into."
"Then why won’t you do it again?"
"Because I’m trying to be responsible. Moderation is important, and I care about your mental health."
You groan and flop back into my lap. "My mental health would be better if you’d just fry my brain a little and rail me."
You’re squirming now, pressing your thighs together, and I can tell the conversation itself is turning you on. Talking about going dumb makes you want to go dumb. "Just a little? You don’t have to do a full session. Just take the edge off. Make me fuzzy. I’ll be so good."
"You’re always good when you’re fuzzy. The hard part is being good now"
"Right, so let’s do the easy part. I like easy. I’m advocating for easy."
I should say no. We did a long session this afternoon and you need time to integrate, to come back fully, to remember that you’re a person with thoughts and preferences and a life outside of this dynamic.
But you’re looking up at me with those eyes, and I can feel my resolve crumbling.
"A little," I say. "Just enough to take the edge off. Then you’re eating dinner and going to sleep like a normal person."
You’re already grinning, already settling back, letting your body go slack in anticipation. "Yes Sir. Whatever you say."
I start stroking your hair with more intention now. Slower. I watch your breathing change, watch you sink into the sensation before I’ve even said a word.
"You really can’t help yourself."
You shake your head, a small dreamy motion. "Don’t want to help myself. Want you to do everything."
"Close your eyes."
You do. Immediately. Like I’ve pressed a button. It’s almost too easy at this point.
"Deep breath. Let it out slow."
Your chest rises and falls. Tension drains from your shoulders. You’re already halfway there just from anticipation.
"You know what happens next. You’ve done this so many times your brain just does it automatically now. The moment I start talking like this, you start sinking."
A soft sound escapes you. Agreement. Surrender.
"That’s embarrassing, if you think about it. How easy you are. How quickly you just…" I snap my fingers. "Gone."
Your face goes slack. Your mouth falls open. I didn’t even have to try. You did all the work yourself, desperate to get back to that empty place.
"How do you feel?"
It takes you a moment to find words. They come out slow and slurred. "Good. Floaty. Dumb."
"Of course you do." I keep stroking your hair. "Open your eyes."
You do, and there’s nothing behind them. No anxiety, no self-consciousness. Just empty, eager devotion. You look like a different person when you’re like this. Happy in a way that your overthinking brain usually won’t allow.
I should stop here. I said just the edge off. I said I’d be responsible.
But you’re already reaching for my cock with clumsy hands, and I’m only human.
"Can I?" You’re fumbling with my zipper. "Want to be useful."
"I thought you wanted me to use you."
"Same thing." You get my cock free and stare at it with dazed appreciation. "Toys are used and useful. Want to be your toy."
You lower your mouth and take me in with no technique at all, just enthusiasm and wet heat and happy little sounds. You’re drooling because you’re too dumb to remember to swallow. It’s obscene. It’s also incredibly hot, which is annoying because it means you’re going to win this argument.
I gather your hair and hold it loosely. "You know you’re proving my point, right? I said moderation is important and now you’re slobbering on my cock like you’ll die without it."
You moan in what I think is agreement. Hard to tell with your mouth full.
"This is exactly why you need breaks. So you don’t turn into a permanently cock-drunk idiot."
Another moan. Your hips are rocking, grinding against the couch.
"You’re not even listening to me, are you?"
You shake your head slightly, still sucking. Of course you’re not. There’s nothing in there to listen with.
I pull you off by the hair. You whine at the loss, mouth still open, a string of spit connecting your lips to my cock.
"Tell me what you are."
The words come slow. "Your… dumb… doll."
"And what do dumb dolls do?"
"Whatever you tell them. Get used. Feel good..." A pause while you search for more. "Don’t think."
"At least you’ve got that right. Good dolly."
Your whole body shudders. You’re so simple right now. A few words of praise and you light up like it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever said to you.
I pull you into my lap and position you over my cock. You sink down with a look of dumb gratitude that makes all my good intentions feel very far away.
You start to move, slow and clumsy, grinding more than riding because coordination is beyond you. Your head falls back. You’re making sounds that aren’t words, just pleasure noise.
"This is what you wanted? To be too stupid to fuck me properly?"
You nod, still moving. "Love it. Love being dumb."
"You’re ridiculous."
"Mm-hmm." You don’t disagree. You don’t care.
I grip your hips and take over, setting the rhythm you’re too fuzzy to maintain. You go limp and let me, become exactly what you said you wanted. A toy. A warm hole that moans when you use it right.
"You’re going to cum for me," I tell you. "Because that’s what dumb dolls do. They cum and say thank you and don’t think about anything else."
"Yes. Yes yes yes."
I fuck you harder and you fall apart, clenching around me. I follow a moment later, pulling you down, filling you while you twitch and babble.
Afterward you slump against my chest, still making small sounds, still floating.
"You’re going to be insufferable about this," I tell you. "You’re only going to want more and more."
You nod against my chest. "More is better."
"Don’t start arguing even when you’re dumb. I can’t handle that."
You snuggle closer. "Me dumb is better. Accept it."
Was on my non-horny tumblr and saw a gif set trying to advertise a movie. I was about to skip it, but 2 of them caught my eye. I thought, "Hmmm, horny tumblr may enjoy these gifs reversed."
And after reversing them, I'm sure some of you will enjoy them for totally normal reasons.
"I mean." She huffs, crossing her arms. "It’s relaxing! Don't get me wrong... But I don't feel any different, and I've been wearing this headset around all weekend, watching the screen and following the instructions, blah blah blah... It said it would melt my brain and turn me into a mindless sex doll! But it's just, like... Guided meditation? Or whatever? Ugh."
"Well..." His words trail for a moment as he catches his breath. "I think...you just need to trust the process."
She grumbles, unfurling her arms and sinking back into the bed. "Maybe. I guess. I'll just keep watching."
"Good idea," he grunts. "Just don't think about it."
"Yeah." She blinks, yawning. "Yeah, I won't... I won't think about it."
"Mhm." He thrusts again, watching her eyes glaze over. How long was that? 30 seconds? 40?
gonna be real. i love being into weird shit. i love masturbating every day. i love other people watching me have sex. i love fantasizing about things i would never want to happen in real life. i love being a pervert. i love kink.
Lovely Sky~ @lovely-mindless-sky - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
