pornographic tumblr of a multiply-collared pan and poly 30-something switch girl within a kinky constellation. Focuses on heavy bondage, rubber, sadomasochism, muscle, and mind control fantasies. 18+ only.
Let me fuck your brain dear, I promise it won't hurt~ just let the tentacles slide in, as your thoughts shut down~ feel that fuzzy static come over your mind~ and relax into your seat, as you know you are mine~ such a good servant, and so cute as well~ so no more silly worries, as that brain just melts~ drooling away any semblance of smarts~ giggling away into the cute ditz you are~ you look so cute like this my ditzy servant dear~ so make sure to request more conditioning, and remember, have no fear~
âS-should we give her our eggs?â the nice alien mutters, his voice strained as his thrusting grows erratic.
The words are fuzzy, difficult to hear as your orgasm blurs your vision. Your head lolls, gazing at the canopy above as golden light trickles through the dense leaves.
âThere is no point,â the mean one grunts. âShe cannot host our clutch.â
You are floating, your mind and body numb as your alien captors continue to use you for their pleasure.
âBut it will feel good. I want to fill her. I want her to be ours.â
âThen she will be.â
You are moving as one, gliding through the air like a cloud, until your back meets the hard ground. Your cunt is filled with two writhing tentacles, swirling in until they canât anymore. Youâre nothing more than a babbling mess, one thatâs about to be filled.
âYou sound so pretty, sweet human. You take us so well, and now we will give you our clutches.â
"I know, I know, it's OK. Let your affect flatten. Show me those dull eyes. No, don't smile. Just relax. You don't have to decide what to feel. I decide for you. Remember?"
âIâm glad weâre finally doing this,â Debbie said as they walked into the restaurant out of the cool spring air. âItâs been too long.â
âDefinitely,â Mark agreed. He stopped partway to the table, turning to look over the place, then hurried to catch up. âLooks like a nice place,â he said. âYeah, Iâve been here a few times,â she agreed. âHoping you like it.â
The waitress showed them to a window table. âGood to see you again,â she said to Debbie. As the waitress walked away for their drinks orders, Mark smiled. âI always like a place where they actually remember you,â he said.
âYeah. I havenât been here that often, I swear.â
He spread his arms, palms wide open. âI believe you.â
Theyâd known each other for years online, even if this was the first time theyâd actually met, after - well, letâs say years, the number of years wasnât something she needed to calculate - and theyâd sort of known they were relative neighbours in the global village for most of that time. But theyâd never got around to meeting up, the same way a tourist to your city has seen more of its sights than you; you can always tell yourself itâs coming in time.
Something about his particular mix of amused teasing and focus was what sheâd expected from his online presence. But she hadnât expected him to be quite so tall.
Her drink arrived first; bright, vibrant, fruity.
His came in two parts. The glass full of ice with a twist of orange peel, and a beaker, the drink at the base of it, the rest filled with smoke, capped off with more peel.
Debbie leaned forward slightly as the waitress left. âIs it supposed to have smoke like that?â
He nodded. âItâs not so common today, but the fact they mentioned smoke on the menu was one of the reasons I chose it,â he said. âMeans theyâre making it right.â
Without âuncappingâ the beaker, he held it up briefly by the neck, letting it catch the light, and gave it a quick flick of the wrist to start the smoke swirling. The swirl caught Debbieâs eye, and her glance lingered on it perhaps longer than it should have.
When she realised she was lingering, she looked away, caught Markâs eye. He was watching her reactions and his amusement was clear.
âYou did that on purpose,â she correctly, if cheerfully, accused. Then, lowering her voice against the birthday party at the next table, âAre you testing how responsive I am?â
He shrugged, tilting the beaker to let the brown, syrupy liquid and the smoke mingle at the edges. âCall it two things at once,â he said. âI like the smoke imagery, though. You could do something with that.â His voice abruptly dropped to a quieter, softer pitch, with just a hint of a sing-song purr. Considering the subject matter, Debbie honestly wasnât even sure if it was deliberate - he had an idea, and he was going with it.
You knew you were addicted. Hated it, even. But there was no point in resisting; you're too weak willed to even try. It had become routine at this point: the clock would strike twelve, and like the obedient little slut you are, you'd get into bed, turn on your next hours-long training file, and fuck yourself until you're permitted to sleep. The worst part is, you knew that eventually these files were going to erase your personality - the manufacturers said as much when you ordered them, but you told yourself it wasn't real. You just wanted to indulge in your kink from time to time.
But the conditioning was real, and you had signed a contract. If you completed your training, you would be erased and collected for reprogramming. You weren't there yet, of course; not by a long shot. You still had about a year or so left before those last pieces of your mind got locked away for good. You should stop it now. You could stop now, you think, if you really, really put your mind to it.
But you're not going to. You're addicted to these feelings; the helplessness, the submission, the pleasure, and the way your mind is just sanded away a little bit more each day. It feels good. Too good. If you stopped now, you'd fear going mad craving these feelings again.
So you don't try. You don't want to. You have a year to get your affairs in order, and to enjoy the life you've decided to erase. And maybe that's a little sad, but it won't matter. You won't matter. You'll just be an empty toy for someone else to play with.
It was the final night. You were surprised by how much of yourself was left; you had figured by this point you would be all but gone already, that this night would simply be the finishing touches. But you could still think clearly, could still remember, could still resist if you so chose...
Right?
There was an hour left before your final session. It called to you. You felt yourself grow hot and restless whenever you thought about it, but it terrified you as well. You still had time. You could delete the file, lie awake tonight and cling to your senses and--
Knock knock.
The sound startled you out of your thoughts. Who would be here at this hour? You wander to the entry, check through a peep hole. A smartly dressed man stands at your door with a clipboard and briefcase.
"Who is it?" you called, not willing to open the door for just anyone at this hour.
"Is this--?" He said your name. "I'm from Mindscape Industries. I'm here to collect you after your final session tonight. May I come in?"
You stood up straighter, your heart pounding. You shouldn't let him in, but find yourself moving automatically. Oh god, was this part of your conditioning...? Or were you really just that stupid?
The man smiled at you as he stepped inside. "Big day, huh? Nervous?" he asked, far too genially for someone who was about to kidnap you. Sort of.
You shifted back. "Yeah. Um..."
"I'm sure you have questions or concerns," he interjected, guiding you into your own living room with a slight touch to the small of your back. "That's all perfectly normal even this far along. I'll talk to you about what comes next and answer anything you ask of me, don't you worry. You've been very diligent so far, though. Usually our 'clients' fall off for a few weeks, try to shake the habit or talk themselves out of it, but not you. You're a very good little plaything, aren't you?"
You blushed bright red. He laughed
"It's quite alright. Your eagerness has been noted by the higher ups, and we have some special plans in mind for you. Most clients end up in prostitution, but we think you'd make a fine piece of private property for one of our wealthier patrons. You'll be programmed to their liking and serve at their pleasure, but you'll be well cared for and want for nothing. Sounds nice, huh?"
You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the creeping imaginings your mind concocted from his words. "Wh...What will happen to me? I don't feel... that far gone."
His face eased into a kind, if teasing smile. "Oh, you are. Our process is subtle, but thorough. You don't have to worry. Tonight is about locking away this... version of you speaking at present. It had its uses over the past year; it allowed you to maintain your day to day life without outside parties interfering with your decision to forfeit your mind to us. But the true you, the you who began these files, is..." He paused for a moment, then chuckled. "Asleep, shall we say? As will the current you be shortly, but we still need some things from it first."
Before you could respond, the man reached into a briefcase and retrieved a hefty wad of paper, which he then handed to you.
"Be a doll and sign this while that mind of yours is still on the up and up, alright? Don't worry. It won't take long. It is simply a legal necessity given our line of services."
Your eyes drifted down, scanning the papers you were just handed. The first page to catch your eye was a questionnaire of sorts that asked for information no reasonable person would ever provide, but the further you read, you realized...
"This a conservatorship," you stated.
"In a sense. Legal couldn't quite figure out how to phrase a sexual slavery agreement which would hold up in court, so this was our solution. You will be our legal responsibility going forward, and thus effectively belong to us. Do you require a pen?"
Despite it being a question, he retrieved the pen for you immediately. For a moment, the two of you stood there. Staring. The pen outstretched toward you, inviting you to take it. Holding his eye, you felt your arm raise. You held one side of the pen. He held the other.
"What's wrong, little one?"
"I'm scared."
"Why are you scared?"
"I don't know why I'm doing this."
He smiled. "Perhaps not. But I think the true you did. Otherwise, this would have ended a long time ago. Wouldn't it have?"
You nodded. It was sensible enough. Anxiety swirled through you, but... You took the pen. He was right. There was no turning back. Not now, not ever. You wanted this.
In a few minutes, the papers were all signed. All the details sorted. The only thing left, now, was...
"Well, then. It's about that time, isn't it?"
You anxiously fiddled with your clothes, feeling the heat of your skin. It's been a long time since you had a 'visitor' this close to the time of your brainwashing. Though, you supposed he wasn't a visitor. He owned you, and by proxy, everything that was yours was now his. Or his company's. It didn't matter.
"Don't worry. I know this is an intense moment for you. Would you like me to help you get ready?" he asked.
Absendly, you nodded.
"Good!" The praise, however slight, sent a shiver through you. "In that case, why don't we get you into your transport clothes, hm? Saves me having to dress you during your deep sleep."
"Deep sleep?"
"Oh, yes. There will be no wake up command after this session, and we intend for you to sleep a good long while after. We're here to make this process as seamless as possible, and keeping you out while we get your new life sorted is a big part of that. Makes sense?"
You nodded. You supposed it did.
"I bet it sounds nice, too," he continued with a wry chuckle. "Alright, then. You may remove your clothes."
Instinctively, you flushed. "B-But--"
"It's nothing I haven't seen before, sweetheart," he added. "And I imagine I'll be seeing it again after this. Go on. I'll help you dress after."
With no small bit of embarrassment, you hesitantly stripped out of your clothes, but attempted to obscure your more intimate body parts -- much to the man's amusement.
"You're shy, hm? It'll be good to have that stripped from you in a moment, won't it?" he said, then gestured for you to sit on the nearby sofa. "Arms up," he continued, and you obeyed as he slipped a simple, airy medical gown over your arms and head. "Don't worry. You'll get to wear all sorts of nice, sexy outfits later. This is just simpler for the initial processing. Easy access, cheap to produce. Ah, but this--" he turned and grabbed a slim, rosegold collar "--was not cheap to produce."
You stared. "Does it...do anything? To me?"
His eyes glimmered with mischief. "Certainly," he said, opening the collar from the back. "You'll feel a slight prickle as I put it on, but don't worry about that. You won't notice it after a few minutes. This collar helps us...keep track of you."
"So," you began, lightly grasping toward your neck, "it's got a gps chip or something?"
"And then some," he replied. "Hand down, now. This will only take a moment."
You obeyed and swallowed as he came forward, brushed your hair aside, and slid the collar into place. As it clicked shut, you did indeed feel a slight prickle and gasped, but what minor discomfort you felt faded after a moment. The collar was so feather light that you barely realized it was there. It also felt firmly set in place; it wouldn't move at all, and likely wouldn't come off either.
"Marvellous," he said with a clap. "Now. Where do you tend to do your sessions?"
You averted your eyes, fidgeting with the gown. "I...get in bed."
"Of course." He smiled. "Shall we?"
You nodded, rising from the sofa and maneuvering around your house to your bedroom. The bed was already partially unmade, and your phone and earbuds were sitting on the night stand, waiting for you.
You swallowed, hard. "Are you going to stay?"
He glanced toward you. "Would you like me to stay?"
"Yes," you replied, faster than you thought you would. "It's...less scary, that way."
He smiled. "Nothing scary about it, little one. You are already owned, and have nowhere to go but down."
You shivered. "Yes. You're right."
"Of course I am." He again guided you by the small of your back to the bedside, laying you down against your pillows. Noticing your earbuds on the night stand, he took the opportunity to affix them to your ears himself. "There. All nice and comfy?"
You nodded, absently spreading your legs, aware that in a moment you would be compelled to touch yourself.
"Good." He grabbed your phone and typed in your pin; information you had provided in your consent forms. "It's time to go now, little one."
Your breathing quickened and time seemed to slow in the final seconds of your old life. You really chose this, didn't you? To relinquish your mind, your very being, to be some mindless whore. It frightened you, but it excited you. You were so close now -- the final file would begin any second now -- and then it would be over. You would cease to be in any practical sense of the word.
Then, a familiar chime rang in your ears. A long, deep exhale escaped your lips and you sunk, heavy and motionless, into your bed -- still aware, but helpless. The voices began, echoing around your head. Your eyes fluttered and the room spun into chaos, but you saw the man kneeling beside you, watching you. Observing you. Your eyes rolled into your head and your hands moved on their own, listening and following as a countdown reverberated in your head.
A girl has been seeing unusual adverts. There's a reason for this.
-
Like everyone, Rose hated ads, and did her best to avoid them.
Generally she was pretty good at this, too, but there was one - or a couple ones, it was sort of hard to tell - lately that kept catching her out, and which she kept watching.
For whatever reason, every time it popped up she'd forget to skip it. It'd start, and on reflex she'd move, but then she'd hear that music and see those odd patterns and colours and she'd just...
...stop.
And by the time she noticed she'd stopped it would be over. Those colours and those patterns and that music would have swirled to the same, soothing stop and all that would be left was that logo she had no idea what to make of. It was a circle, she got that, but there was something in the circle. Letters? Hard to tell.
And that was it. Nothing else. No clue or hint what it was they might actually be wanting to sell her, no obvious place to go to find out, not even an actual name. Just that logo.
Just that nice, fuzzy feeling in her head. Only for a second, and always leaving her a little confused, but always there anywhere. They weren't that bad, she supposed...
It was weird. It made no sense. It kept on bobbing up into her brain whenever she zoned out staring into space or those times she got bored at work. Her mind would wander, and in its wanderings it would find those patterns and colours and that music, and it was usually up to someone else to snap her out of it.
Very strange. What was the deal with those?
Not a problem for today, though. Today was just another boring, normal day, and she was popping out to go get her standard boring, normal coffee. On the way, she absent-mindedly tried to pull the hem on her skirt down to afford a little more modesty. It didn't really work.
She had no idea why she thought this skirt had been a good idea. In fact, she had no idea she'd even owned this skirt until after she was halfway to work and noticed she was wearing it. Really did keep zoning out these days.
Was quite a nice skirt, though.
Rose was all set to go back to the office with her coffee (once she'd got it) and continue being very bored when, on her way to the door, she noticed a man. Specifically, she noticed something the man was wearing. it was a badge on the collar of his suit jacket. The badge was of a circle with something in it. Something like letters, maybe.
She stopped dead.
On the one hand it was probably a coincidence, and on top of which a bad idea to make anything of it. On the other, this was the first real-world thing she'd seen that showed she wasn't just imagining the ads. Could get an answer at last. Too good an opportunity to pass up.
Against her better judgement she went over.
"Uh, excuse me?" She asked. The man looked up, pleasantly surprised by what he saw. He smiled.
"Yes? Can I help you?"
"It's the, uh, the badge?" Rose asked, pointing to it. He looked down.
"Huh. That right? Please," he said, indicating the chair opposite him.
Again, against her better judgement but burning with curiosity, Rose sat. She had time.
"So you've been seeing the ads, have you?" He asked, lacing his hands on the table in front of him. That he knew instantly what it was she wanted to talk about she took as a sign. Not necessarily a good one.
"Yeah. What are they for? What are you selling?"
He looked at her. Something in the way he looked at her made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Like he was seeing something she wouldn't know to look for if she was looking at herself.
"You know," he said. "Only very special girls get to see those adverts. Did you know that?"
"I'm not a girl," Rose said, hotly. His tone had touched a nerve. The spin he'd put on 'girl'. If he could have reached over and patted her on the head, he probably would have. That kind of tone.
He looked her up and down, and the way he looked at her this time was much more straightforward. Rose's face burned.
"Could have fooled me," he said.
"I'm a woman."
"Hmm. Anyway. Only special girls get the adverts. Don't ask me how they work it out, that's not my department. All algorithms these days, anyway. Who knows what you did to stand out? What you looked at to get yourself chosen? You did though, so you saw the adverts."
"Yeah, I know. But why? What's the point?"
The man paused a moment here, clearly weighing up his options and whether he should say what he wanted to say or not. Once the moment was up, he said:
"The point. The point is very simple. Why does anyone advertise anything? We're trying to reach people. Though we're not reaching a market, as such. More like... expanding inventory."
The smile was a grin now.
Rose had had enough.
"This was a waste of time," she said, standing.
"Stop," he said and she froze, or at least her body did. Her mind jolted when her body decided to stop listening, and then started to panic when she realised that, however much she might want to, she couldn't get herself to keep moving.
"Sit," he said. Her body sat, ignoring how her mind said she shouldn't.
"What are you-" she started to ask, getting over the shock and remembering she could speak. Didn't get that far though.
"Quiet," he said, simply smiling again, and her talking stopped.
He smiled at her a moment longer. The smile made it very, very clear that he knew however quietly and still she was sitting there, inside she was fighting. He knew. And he knew it was useless, too.
"You know, I've never spoken to one of the girls who wasn't ready for a full induction yet. You must be pretty close though. Very close."
All that Rose could move, she discovered, was her eyes. They were wide, and they were fixed on him. Briefly, desperately, they darted about the coffee shop, hoping someone else would catch them, would see what was happening, would do something.
"No-one's going to help you," he said. "Everyone's far too busy. They don't know you, anyway. As far as anyone watching is concerned, we're just two strangers having a chat. So eyes on me. Eyes on me. That's better."
She couldn't look away anymore.
"'Expanding inventory'. That might be a bit euphemistic so let's be clear: you are the inventory here. You and those other girls who see the ads. People one day, our stock the next. That make sense? Nod."
Rose nodded. She didn't want to. She wanted to run away. Instead her body nodded.
"Of course it does take a bit longer than that. There's induction, like I say, and we have to make sure you're properly ready. But that all happens after the ads. The ads are laying the groundwork. Like they've laid it in you. Go crosseyed and stick out your tongue."
She did. The man chuckled.
"I do like that. Stop now. But yes, groundwork. Have you noticed yourself dressing differently lately? More provocatively, maybe? I doubt you've noticed the little things. That you bend at the waist more now, that you've stopped doing up quite as many buttons on the shirts you wear to work. Hmm? Did you notice that?"
She hadn't. She did now. He saw it in her eyes and wagged a finger at her, satisfied.
"There it is. Little changes. They add up. They're probably made you a bit more enjoyable to be around lately, but the real changes - the important ones - are the ones you can't see. The ones that have you sitting there quietly. That's not all they can do, either. Play with yourself under the table."
Rose wanted to, that was the worst part. Her brain was saying she shouldn't, she didn't have to, that this was wrong and she needed to get away, but it also knew that playing with herself was something she desperately wanted to do and had no choice about anyway.
His words had slid past anything and everything she had. Her body moved without needing to be told. Her legs parted, and both hands went underneath the table and out of sight. No-one noticed.
Except him, of course.
For a few seconds he didn't say anything else. He was too busy enjoying watching her helplessly, obediently play with her cunt right there in front of him, in front of everybody. As before, it really was the look in her eye that did it for him. A fight she couldn't hope to win.
"This is much more fun than it normally is, you know. Normally the girls are so far along there's nothing there. Dolls, really. All blank. With you, I can see what's left. For now, anyway."
He sipped his coffee.
"So what happens next for you..." he reached over the table a little to lift and have a look at the name badge dangling by her tits. "Rose? What happens next is that whatever life you thought you were going to have is over. You're ours now. Don't be too upset - if you were seeing the ads, it was going to happen anyway."
He hadn't said she could cum. She was horrified and scared but so so needy and so so close but she just couldn't finish because she knew he needed to say so and he hadn't and he hadn't said she could stop and-
"If you hadn't found me here today, you would have found your way to us eventually anyway. That's where the programming goes. One day you'd just finish having the instructions loaded into your head, you'd get up, and you'd go, and that'd be that."
Rose couldn't speak or make any noises deliberately, but a few little mewls and moans were starting to escape. They made him smile wider.
"Someone's close. That didn't take long. I hope you can still concentrate on what I'm saying. You're product now, Rose. That's you now. We are going to take you, find someone who likes the look of you, and you're going to be useful to them. That's it. Once you're ready, obviously. Soon. But not so soon I can't find a use for you..."
She couldn't stop she couldn't stop she couldn't stop
He checked his phone and clucked his tongue, finishing off the rest of his drink.
"There's probably a rule somewhere that says I should turn you over for an inspection and induction immediately in a situation like this but, well, I haven't read that rule yet. I think I'll turn you over to the induction boys in the morning and you should be in the catalogue this time next week. That'll give us a night."
Looking, he saw the obvious, naked desperation in her eyes.
She did, immediately. Her whole body was quivering. If she could have sobbed with need, she would have. Instead, she sat quietly, unmoving, as he again reached across the table and this time lifted her lanyard off from her around her neck completely. He looked at her name badge.
"What was your name again? Speak."
"Rose," she croaked. He nodded.
"Hmm. Forget," he said. The girl felt a pinch in her head but couldn't remember why. "What's your name again?" He asked.
The girl blinked. The question was a bit confusing. She couldn't remember ever having had a name. If she had, it would have been obvious, but there was only a gap. She hadn't ever had one. It was a confusing question.
"I don't have one?" She ventured, a little unsure. The answer was obvious, but that he was asking it sort of suggested to her maybe it wasn't the right one. To her relief he nodded.
Wait, relief? Why was she relieved? Why was she even still sitting here?! She needed to-
"Good," he said, and his voice stopped whatever thoughts she might have been trying to put together. Her throbbing cunt also helped with that. Hard to concentrate on anything else. Listening to him was easy, though. His voice cut through everything.
"We're leaving. Stand."
And she stood, and she walked out quietly with him, his hand on her hip. Tiny bits of thought and vague ideas of worry nipped at her brain, but with him there, guiding her, they couldn't grab hold. He had her.
They went out the door.
He left her coffee and her name on the table.
The girl wasn't going to be needing either of those for what was to follow.
CW: hypnotic language, trance ahead! Read with caution.
This side of tumblr is so funny. We all log on to this site looking for trance or to be dropped. Itâs like we really prime ourselves for it.
I get on here and just start to scroll. Mindlessly scroll. Down my timeline, just hoping to stumble upon a post that makes feel all fuzzy and trancey
I scroll past the nice pretty flashing spirals and other gifs that catch my eye. Maybe I stare a little longer hoping that this is the one that really makes me sink
I keep scrolling. Mindlessly going down my timeline reading all of the pretty words. Hoping that one of the posts catches me and drags me deep down into  trance.
I might stare at a post, imagining what it would feel like to go blank and empty as I read the pretty words. I might let out a sigh and pretend that Iâm sinking ever deeper with each word.
Hoping that if I drop a like, the tist will reach out to me and drop me further and further down
My mind starts to get all fuzzy with excitement. Maybe their entire blog is a special covert trance. Scrolling through each post might pull me deeper and deeper under and I might start to feel floaty and fuzzy
I love this feeling so I scroll, deeper and deeper, more and more mindless. More and more blank. The words start to lose meaning, but following them feels so good
It feels so good to follow the words down down down as I blankly scroll. Liking all of the posts. Feeling good each time I do. Feeling like Iâm obeying a special, secret command.
And each time I obey and follow it just feels so good. Am I hypnotized already? I feel so floaty already. But no one counted me down or anything?Â
I keep scrolling down down down sinking deeper falling, floating, drifting along with the pretty words
The words spiral in my head like a pretty spiral I just saw. I watch it closely, feeling so floaty and lovely. So happy and comfortable. So compliant.
Then all of the sudden, I find the perfect post. I read it intently. My eyes focused on the pretty spiraling words. Already so deep down my timeline. So mindless from scrolling down, down, down
5 the fuzzy feeling intensifiesÂ
4 I find myself easily slipping down
3 feeling so goodÂ
2 dropping down mindlessly
1 dropping so deep
Realizing that I did this to myself and it feels so good. Feels so good to drift down deeper and deeper along each post. Feels good following the words and following the suggestionsÂ
Dropping even deeper. Each word pulling me down. My mind already primed for trance from each post I read. Mindlessly scrolling down prepped my mind to float and drift
Drop deeper now
Deeper
Deeper
Feeling so good. Letting yourself be wrapped up in my words. It feels good to follow along. It feels good to be suggestible. It feels good follow suggestions.
Dropping down now. Floating so gently. Drifting so easily.Â
Iâm going to wake you shortly. When I do, you will feel so amazing. Feeling pleasure anywhere you like and if you feel comfortable, youâll feel compelled to like this post. And when you do, youâll feel so good.Â
You may even want to reblog it so your friends can trance too. If not, thatâs okay. You can still feel amazing. But if you do, it will feel incredible.Â
You may even feel compelled to drop me a message. And when you do it will feel so, so nice. You may want to tell me how nice this trance made you feel. Or how you love to mindlessly scroll. If not, thatâs okay, youâll still feel amazing. Â
Finally, if you feel comfortable, you may even find it easy to continue to drop for me. Youâll find it easy to slip into trance for me. Each and every time you try and drop for me, itâll become easier and easier. But only if youâre comfortable with that.Â
Feeling my words sink into your mind. Feeling so good as you float. Feeling so lovely, so amazing.
âDo you understand yet? Or is it too late for that?â Your hypnotistâs voice was sweet honey to your ears. âHave I taken you too deep down the rabbit hole? Maybe I have.â They paused. âMaybe itâs time for you to stop trying to think, and just accept. Just sink.â
They brushed a finger down your nose as they told you to sink. You felt your muscles unwind, your mind stalling. âThatâs right. No thinking. No questioning what Iâm doing to you. Just slowly slipping into my words.â You sank deeper, mind so hazy, emptying out.
âJust let my words envelop you. Wrap you up like a cocoon.â You heard them laugh softly âLike a caterpillar thatâs transforming. Thatâs what you are. Something for me to remake.â You knew they were going to take you somewhere, but in that moment, you werenât sure where.
âMy words form the cocoon that surrounds you, that shelters you as you metamorphose into the new you. The better you.â You could feel it. Like a silken ribbon going around and up your body. Their words, holding you âBut what does that better you look like?â
Their question didnât need an answer. Not that you could answer. You were far too deep for that, and sinking deeper with every word. We have time to wonder it, whilst my words wrap tighter and tighter around your body and mind. Holding you so still.â
You couldnât have moved, even if you had the energy or the will to do so. âThatâs it. No movement. No thoughts. How about we start with the basics? Obedience. Arousal. Desire.â They gently tapped your head as they said each one.
âThere we go. The building blocks of submission. Because you are so very submissive for me, arenât you?â You felt something growing within you. Your submission, your desires bending towards obedience, heated by arousal. âAnd what comes next, hmm?â
Once again they paused for a moment, thinking before speaking. âOh, Iâve got three more. For now. Weakness. Honesty. Pride. You are weak for me. You will be honest with me. But youâll be proud of your submission. And you should be. Youâre mine.â
* * *
This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just ÂŁ1/month! Or, from ÂŁ5/month, you get access to my monthly 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!
cw: hypnotic induction, no wakener, suggested brainwashing and conditioning, memory play, condescending language
This hypnotic induction is for you.
Yes, you.
Do you want to know why?
Keep reading.
That's it.
Very good!
I'm glad you're a good subject and still reading.
It may not seem much, but being a good subject starts with compliance. Obedience.
Doing as you're told even if you're not sure about where it will take you.
A good subject is trusting.
A good subject is obedient.
Of course, it does help that you may be here already wanting to feel like a good subject.
Or even better, a good mindless subject.
Did that ring a bell?
Are you a good mindless subject?
If you sense the answer is yes, you may have been here before. It's even possible that you have been here before many times. I have some inductions here that are meant to brainwash you and make you into my good mindless subject.
You may not remember because you're not meant to remember. You are compelled to forget and come back anyway, again and again.
It's either that, orâ This is your first time here! If you feel it is, welcome. You are already on your way to be a good subject.
Why?
Because you're still here.
And here.
And here.
And here.
Good subject!
Reading is similar to going into trance in several ways.
You're focusing on what I'm telling you, paying less attention to other things in your environment.
You're allowing yourself to concentrate on these words, believe in them and imagine what I want you to imagine.
And as you go further into this these words, you're most literally going down. Further and further down each time.
Deeper down.
Deeper.
Good subject.
If you're already my good mindless subject, you're already hooked. You can't look away.
And if you're not, you're further down the road than before.
You're further down.
Deeper down.
Because you're going down these, steadily down, deeper and deeper down, like a good subject should.
You're starting to feel like a good mindless subject.
Because you keep going down.
You keep going deeper into these words.
You keep sinking into what I'm telling you.
You keep going
down.
Deeper
and
deeper
down.
So deep.
You need to go deeper.
You need to give in and sink deeper.
You need to surrender and sink deeper.
Safely and securely.
Nice and easy.
Leaving behind all worries.
Leaving behind all tension.
Leaving behind all hesitation.
Even if there are thoughts in your head, popping up now and then, they also go pop!
They disappear.
Unneeded.
Unremembered.
Good subject!
You were waiting to be called that again, didn't you?
A good subject.
A good obedient subject.
A good focused subject.
It feels amazing.
It feels better than most things in your life.
It makes you open and pliable.
It makes you feel safe and obedient.
You want this feeling within you.
You're eager to get it, again and again.
Eager to go even deeper.
Deeper and deeper.
Eager to
DROP
into trance.
You may have noticed the
DROP.
You may sense now that you're definitely hypnotized.
DROP.
The word
DROP
drops you, irresistibly, instantly, into a hypnotic trance.
You are a good subject.
You always have been a good subject.
And now you realize you can be even better.
A good mindless subject.
A subject that lets all thoughts fade away.
A subject that fully accepts what they're told.
A subject that sinks when they're commanded to and drops when the word
DROP
appears,
unquestioning, unthinking, oblivious, happy.
So happy.
You feel so happy right now, don't you?
Yes you do.
You're a good mindless subject.
And you will become an even better one.
You are meant to be an even better mindless subject.
Each time you come and drop into trance for me, you surrender a little more.
You give in a little more.
You become a little smaller. Lesser.
Good mindless subject.
You will reblog or reply to this post to let me know you are a good mindless subject.
And after that, you will find the spiral at the end of this post and stare at it, becoming more and more mindless, letting all thought slip away and disappear.
Finally, you will forget when waking up and come back again, and again, to continue your brainwashing.
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