#scenelog

[ickypatchi]

Scene Sonico toy concept [2024]

[the-not-so-hidden-debug-mode]

coming soon

a scenelog detailing last night's session with @tranceytransdom , and the magical things that happened to me in the forest of my mind! guaranteed to be long. like really long. so long. a veritable scholarly essay of a post.

here's a short preview, in the form of a couple of things that i learned from our session:

voice hypnosis is so much more effective than text hypnosis! like, ridiculously so! i mean, i have nothing against text hypnosis, but...it just doesn't work as well on me. but maybe as i keep practicing and become a better subject, i'll get to a place where i can actually go as deep via text as i can via voice.

my internet setup is not fit for voice chatting, especially not with people who live far away from me! the discord voice chat kept cutting out, and eventually it got so bad that we had to switch to text, which was mega disappointing considering the fact that text isn't nearly as effective as voice is. later, i learned something from a peer of mine: apparently, all internet connections come from these central hubs of sorts, and the farther away you are from any respective hub, the worse your signal will be. of course, i live in the middle of nowhere, so that means the closest hub to me is in a town two states away. of course it is. screw capitalism.

[ickypatchi]

Making progress on super sceneico !

stopped working on her for a while because 1. sculpting hair hard and i chose to give her giant scene hair of course and 2. hand hurty... also 3. day job makes me tired lol.

But i'm back to working on her because i get sad when i see how bad all her new figures are and i Need A Good One so I'll Make it dammit!!!

[subject-e]

1 + 1 = wheeeeee!

One idea.

Lychee were in season, let's get some for dessert.

One idea.

"You are perfect just as you are, in all of your parts and complexities."

add trance, and you get ...

A body, my body, wonderful, whole and complete each cell made up of a lychee fruit, pink, prickly, delicious.  With tender white flesh, sweet juices dripping, and a firm brown seed so smooth, flawless mahogany enrobed in delight.  An assembly of millions and billions and trillions of them, each perfect, tasty, and just right.  Just right for that moment, for me, for them, for us to share together.  A grin spread across my face, a giggle, a laugh with the wonder and joy of this, the universe, trance, the trust among friends, the marvel of a brain that can make associations that are both nonsensical and make complete sense at once. 

And the knowledge that this tasty brain is something whose sweet pink tart prickly goodness is able to be shared with others in so many ways through all the things we do ...

[subject-e]

Mutual

A late night, a goodnight conversation turned into a goodnight trance.  Rapport.  Two minds, fitting together like puzzle pieces.  Their words drop me, fill me with the anticipation of sleep... then naturally, beautifully, my words come forth to do the same to them.  Without thinking, without wondering "is it OK to do this in this power dynamic?"  Just letting it happen, knowing that words would be accepted, that happiness would be mutual, and that two minds would have deep, restful sleep in synchrony.

To give trance as a service, as thanks for being given trance, to share that warm, drowsy, almost sleepy space that is so intimate, to invite them in to the contentedness they created in my mind, to let it fill me, to let it overflow and fill them.  To be who I am, both subject and hypnotist, for once not at odds, in my place.

[subject-e]

Exploring the void

Somehow, I always manage to end up trancing with hypnotic-seduction when I'm on the verge of physical and mental exhaustion... and he is a master at making the most of this interesting mental state.

I come home from a long day of work, sleep deprived, mentally tired from having new responsibilities, and he's online and up for some play.  We start talking... it always begins with talking.  I doubt if I'm capable of much, and fear that I will fall asleep on him.  I'm in a sort of headspace where if I go "down" I will fall asleep, I'm too tired to go "up", but somehow he manages to nudge me sideways into trance.  The first time, I drift up on my own, wondering how I got into trance because I had no recollection of any induction.  (Usually I can spot a conversational induction and happily drop with it... this time, I noticed trance when I was waking up.)

(It's hard to write a scene report when there is amnesia involved, I'm noticing.)

But there was one thing, one feeling, that was notable, special.  I felt flat.  Like a cardboard cutout or a gingerbread person.  I couldn't move, I was so relaxed, so spent, every bit of energy used up.  And I just drifted in this two dimensional world, this maze of words that spun my mind in every direction and left it in a place where there was no "up" or "down". 

(Later, he was talking about the language he used, and mentioned that he had specifically avoided such words... maybe on some level my brain parsed the language choices and decided that I was flat for a while.)

More words, sliding sideways again into a state where my mind was guided, led forward, drifting in a sea of bliss.  Each time, there were words, drawing me in, keeping me afloat.  My brain wanted to follow them so intensely, that those words had the power to hold me above the void, suspended, cradled, with no fear of falling in. 

Later, much later, he demonstrated that if he wanted, he could drop me down into sleep whenever he wanted, into that blissful void.

[subject-e]

Interrogation

I might gloss over the moments of intense pain, filling my mind with white light, knowing that yes, it *hurt* (rather a lot) but no harm was being done... that blinding pain... that it would stop if I told him The Answer.  If I told him the thing I wanted him to know, the thing I was hiding from him. 

There was just one problem... I realized that I didn't know the question!  Was I so tranced out, blissed out, in the land where pain is pleasure that I had forgotten it?  Did I miss it?  Oh dear.  A frantic scramble through my mind to find that question.  It must be around here somewhere, right?  Right? RIGHT?!?!?!!?  (Panic starts to set in.)  (Letting him see panic, not a good idea...)  Brain, fuzzy.  Thoughts, interspersed with pain, interspersed with thoughts, but none of them the right one.  It's a question I didn't want to answer.  I remember that.  But which one?! 

Oh god, not that one.  Anything but that one.  He KNOWS the answer to that one.  I tentatively say it.  He's not sure if it's the right answer.  (Panic?)  Strong hands, good pain, lots and lots of it.  I don't want to disappoint him, I don't want him to think that I'm lying to him.  I don't want him to think I'm lying to him either because... well, obvious reasons.  "I forgot the question," is really not something you ever should be saying during an interrogation scene and mean it.  Same for "I've answered all the questions, I swear!!!" 

(Panic!)  (Not the bad kind.)  (The being pushed, being totally in the moment, helpless in all the right ways and none of the wrong ones, yes.)  So I guess I have to beg him to accept what I said as the true answer to the question that I think he wants the answer to.  And then of course he gets to do it to me, because that's why he wanted to know it.  But he got his information.  I got past all the distractions in my head, into a space where I was existing only in that moment.  Intensely connected.  Entranced, somewhere along the way, through an induction of touch of ever increasing intensity, to the point where trance was required to continue. 

[subject-e]

"Not Yet."

Every angle of her body ached for it, for my permission to drift into that delicious trancey feeling that she craved so profoundly.  That special space that we created together, that is rare yet so delicious.  Her eyes were wide, her lip trembled slightly.  I grabbed her hair and reminded her “not yet,” as those eyes fluttered, focused with obvious effort.  I could see the torture in her eyes as she fought her instinct to drop, saw her straining to not disobey.  “Please?”  Barely a whisper, yet laced with desire.  She needed it and she could not have it … yet.  I looked into those waiting eyes, intense, confident of my control.  “I think we need an induction, yes?”  She nodded, eager, eyes even wider.  

What induction fits this moment?  Words, writing.  Lines scribed into skin with a sharp steel claw.  Yes.  Each word would be painful, yet bringing her the pleasure she craved.  My words were light, a contrast to the pain inflicted with each stroke.  Down one arm, “breathe deeply,” down the other “and relax.”  Even, so little caused her to drop.  “Drop, deeply.”  Words, scribed in light, glowing from within her.  Words, framing her thoughts, her desires in glowing light.  “Beautiful.”  “That’s right.”  Words, changing, now she is telling me what they say, her deepest desires written on her skin, for everyone to see.  She reads them aloud after I have written them.

I listen, and a plot forms in my mind…