The Amazing Zuno

My hypnotic thoughts

[somnus-the-tist]

[kallidora-rho]

Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 1

Mel is tasked with taking down mean, domineering business rival Vivienne Gilbert - who, as it just so happens, is a secret superfan of Mel’s journalist best friend turned pet bimbo, Emma

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---

As she sat outside the CEO of Valeyard Solutions’s office, Mel Adams checked the time on her phone once more and sighed. Supposedly, her host was running five minutes late - this, from a woman who had never been tardy for anything in her life. Making Mel wait was the most transparent power play in the book, and worst of all, it was proving entirely effective at pissing her off.

Really, the whole situation was setting her on edge. An unfamiliar office in an unfamiliar building, opulent yet spartan, and Mel was about to meet one of the most formidable rising stars of the hypnogarch world. A woman who, like Mel, hailed from a social and economic elite who used mind control to leverage and reinforce their power. Only, unlike Mel, this woman had notches on her belt and a fearsome reputation. They were meeting on her turf, too. In hostile territory. Mel was out of her depth.

Which was, of course, the point. This was a test. Mel’s trial by fire, given to her by her parents. To become a fully-fledged hypnogarch, you had to be strong. If you weren’t, your peers would eat your lunch and make you thank them for it while your brains drooled out of your ears.

“Ms. Adams?” said a secretary, approaching and offering a polite little bow. “Thank you for waiting. The CEO will see you now.”

Mel rose from her seat and followed as the secretary led her into the office. She didn’t bother to reply. There was no point, and, like all the others, she gave Mel the creeps. The entire floor was staffed with near-identical women, all of whom wore identical outfits: tiny pencil skirts and tight, white blouses, open to expose cleavage - and all of them had suitable bodies to make the clothes distracting. But more to the point, each one of them had a certain telltale, glazed look in their wide, guileless eyes.

All of the secretaries were completely hypnotized.

It was another typical flex from a powerful hypnogarch. But just like making Mel wait, it was unnerving.

“Melanie Adams,” said the woman behind the CEO’s desk, as they reached her. She smiled a thin smile. “My. I suppose I should be honored.”

It was her. Vivienne Yvette Gilbert. Mel would have recognized her anywhere from all the magazine covers and fawning interviews. She looked just the way she always did in her photos: tall, professional, and classically beautiful, but modest, with her long, tailored suit only just tight enough to hint at the well-honed body underneath. Her auburn hair was tucked back in a neat, disciplined ponytail, and her eyes reflected a keen, vicious intelligence.

Vivienne Gilbert was a business savant, combining old money wisdom with new money ambition, and was, by all accounts, an extremely skilled hypnotist. Her company was taking the corporate world by storm, and the small army of brainwashed secretaries outside attested to her ability to get whatever she wanted from people, by any means necessary.

This was Mel’s test. This was the woman she had to destroy.

“Mel, please,” she offered. “And really, I’m the one who’s honored. Your time is valuable.”

Vivienne nodded graciously, and indicated for Mel to take a seat opposite her. The secretary who had led Mel inside stood at attention to one side, against a nearby wall.

“So,” Vivienne began. Her confidence was supreme. “To what do I owe this pleasure - a visit from the profligate faildaughter of two of high society’s most prominent elite?”

Mel bristled a little, but didn’t let it show in her face. “Curiosity, really. I thought that the two of us might want to get to know each other a little. After all, we’re both from the same generation, right? Just like mine, your parents were-“

“Cut the crap,” Vivienne interrupted with a slicing wave of her hand. She leaned forward. “My time is valuable - more valuable than yours, at any rate - so let’s not waste it. Despite your wasted youth, I’m told that you’ve recently taken a position as executive vice president at one of the family businesses. And recently, shell companies attached to your family have been making aggressive offers to buy out my stake in Valeyard - offers I have declined.”

Mel simply nodded. She wasn’t surprised to learn that Vivienne had figured this much out. Anything less would have been a disappointment.

“You’re here,” Vivienne surmised, “because your mothers asked you to make in-person overtures. They want my Valeyard, and they’ve sent you to persuade me to sell.” She let out a brief, quiet laugh. “Amusing.”

Mel spread her arms. “You’re correct, of course,” she replied. “So far, you’ve rejected all offers. That’s your right. But everybody has their price, even if it’s not monetary. Assurances, perhaps. A position in one of our conglomerates? With Valeyard in the family, we could achieve new levels of market dominance and integration. You could be part of that. You could reap the rewards. Power, prestige - you name it.”

It wasn’t a bad offer - but just as Mel had expected, Vivienne rolled her eyes.

“Sophistry,” the CEO dismissed. “You and your parents simply want to take what’s rightfully mine. You want control - and you want it because you’re afraid. My Valeyard’s quarterly numbers put all of yours to shame. For now, I’m just a good story. A new, rising star. But in a few years, I’ll be knocking at your family’s doors. Challenging your mothers. I’ll be a competitor. A rival. A threat.”

Mel said nothing. She wasn’t wrong.

“Let me make this very clear.” Vivienne smiled a shark’s smile. “I am a threat. You and your mothers are right to be afraid. I’m not willing to be a partner or a pawn, or a… vice president.” She sneered the last two words. “I intend to come out on top. Understand?”

“With respect,” Mel replied, after a moment’s consideration. “Valeyard isn’t exactly rightfully yours, is it? You’ve already shown a willingness to jump ship, given the right opportunity. After all, you didn’t found this company. You simply acquired it. You took advantage of someone else’s capital and someone else’s ideas. Perhaps we aren’t so different.”

Vivienne simply laughed at the provocation. “You really are new to this world, aren’t you?” she mocked. “Yes, I acquired Valeyard. I took it from the original owner. Do you understand what that means? It’s mine. Not hers. Mine. She lacked the strength to hold on to what she’d built, and I had the strength to take it. That’s the very definition of rightful ownership.”

“I understand,” Mel retorted. “And you’ve guided the company all the way to the top of the stock market. Some would say you’ve already proven yourself.”

“Some would say?” Vivienne echoed derisively. “Ridiculous. You’ll have to do much better than that if you expect to convince me. Especially since I suspect that your mothers would prefer I end up much like the original founder.”

“And how’s that?” Mel asked.

Vivienne’s smile grew wider than ever, and she gestured off to one side. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Hairs stood at attention on the back of Mel’s neck as she realized Vivienne was indicating the brainwashed, identity-scrubbed secretary who’d led her into the office.

At first, it seemed absurd to believe that such a sharp, entrepreneurial mind could have been so completely blunted. But Mel knew all too well just how far someone could fall given the right kind of treatment, and besides, now that she was looking closely, there was a certain, unmistakably resemblance between the woman standing at attention before her and the woman she’d seen in old photographs when she’d been researching Valeyard’s history.

How long must she have been a mind-controlled thrall by now? Years? It was terrible to imagine - but the worst part was that, even as they were talking about her, the woman’s eyes registered absolutely nothing but blank, blissful, helpless compliance.

For the first time, Mel felt truly intimidated by the task her mothers had presented her with.

“By the time she signed over her company to me, she couldn’t even remember what she was losing.” Mel turned back to Vivienne and saw that she was turning over a pocket watch between her fingers. It was, by all accounts, her preferred instrument of control. “Still, I suppose she’s happy enough - serving me. It’s right where she belongs. Don’t you think?”

Mel just sighed. “I don’t think you intend to seriously entertain any offer I make you.”

“At least you’re smart enough to have figured that out,” Vivienne remarked. She closed her pocket watch and slipped it back into her jacket pocket. “No, I don’t. I just wanted to get your measure. And if you’re the best your mothers can send, well… I’m not impressed.”

“I see,” Mel said stiffly. She stood. “In that case, I won’t take up any more of your precious time.”

“Very gracious.” Vivienne replied contemptuously. She stood too, and indicated the door. “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of showing yourself out.”

Mel turned, ready to leave. Vivienne didn’t seem to have figured out that Mel had been sent to brainwash her, not persuade her. That was, perhaps, a tiny advantage - but she couldn’t imagine how she might possibly leverage it. She’d seen no hint of any chink in Vivienne’s armor, and given that Mel’s skills as a hypnotist were still developing, she couldn’t see herself winning out in a fair fight. She needed an angle, but there was none.

What did that leave? How was she possibly supposed to win?

At that moment, as Mel was taking her first step towards the door, something happened that caught her attention: her and Vivienne’s phones both buzzed and lit up at exactly the same moment.

Vivienne’s phone buzzed all the time, of course. But for it to happen at precisely the same instant was a little weird. It was as if they had just received the exact same notification. Mel had to assume it was nothing more than a coincidence, but all the same, she found herself glancing at her phone to check.

It was a notification from her girlfriend Emma’s OnlyFans.

Mel didn’t really need to sign up for it - after all, Emma was not only her girlfriend, she was brainwashed to adoringly follow every one of Mel’s wishes. But Mel stayed signed up all the same, both to be supportive and because Emma regularly posted some very, very high-quality content. Despite all the brainpower she’d lost, she was quickly developing her talents as both a model and a photographer. The image set Emma had just posted was particularly alluring: she was dressed, as usual, in pink, skimpy exercise gear, and was in a series of unbelievable poses that perfectly showcased her sluttiness, her flexibility, and her curves all at once. Mel was lucky enough to be able to enjoy that body every night, but even so, it got her just a little hot and bothered.

Quickly, Mel slipped her phone away and chalked the simultaneous notifications up to coincidence. After all, there was no way that Vivienne Gilbert, of all people, was signed up to Emma’s OnlyFans.

Or so she thought, until she looked over and saw Vivienne staring at her screen with a faint but distinct blush in her cheeks.

It still seemed impossible. But suddenly Mel found herself wondering.

“Vivienne?” Mel voiced cautiously. “Is something up?”

“Hm?” Abruptly, Vivienne realized that she was still in the presence of her guest. “No. No, of course not,” she said, a touch too sharply. “But as you can see, I’m very, very busy. Please leave.”

Her tone was off - and more to the point, Mel caught a glimpse of something damning as Vivienne slipped her phone into her pocket.

The OnlyFans logo.

“Of course,” Mel said. “Goodbye.”

She left the Valeyard headquarters with a fresh spring in her step. It had come from the unlikeliest of places, and she still wasn’t sure of her next move, but suddenly Mel had something to work with.

She’d just found her angle.

***

“Hey, Emma? I’m back!”

As soon as Mel stepped into their penthouse apartment and called out to her girlfriend, Emma Park started bouncing toward her with the energy of a golden retriever.

“Babe!” she gushed, as she leapt into Mel’s arms. “Ohmigosh, you’re like, so early!”

Mel couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Bouncing’ really was the most appropriate term. On top, Emma was wearing nothing but a pink sports bra that was specifically intended to look tight and press her cleavage together while doing absolutely nothing to keep her assets from jiggling up and down as she exercised vigorously for her audience.

Emma Park, exercise bimbo. It was her brand, and she worked it marvelously.

“I just couldn’t stay away,” Mel said brightly. “I love you, Em.”

Emma’s whole face lit up. “I love you too!” she exclaimed, delighted, and started giggling.

As it often did, even after six months, seeing Emma like that did hit Mel with a certain pang. After all, Mel had made her girlfriend this way. Unbeknownst to Emma, Mel had transformed her from a brave, smart muckraker to an airheaded, giggly bimbo. It had been done out of love, because it had seemed like the surest way to save Emma from herself, and from the clutches of the kind of mind controllers she was investigating - but still, it troubled Mel that she’d needed to take from Emma so much of the sharpness and activist passion that she’d always loved about it.

She’d tried to preserve, though, the kernel of all that. Emma’s passion; her energy and drive, her enthusiasm for her work, and her talent for connecting with an audience. It just so happened that, now, all of that was directed differently, at her OnlyFans career instead of investigative journalism. Emma was flourishing in her life: she was hot, successful, popular, healthier than ever - and most importantly of all, happy.

Mel had her pangs of guilt, but making sure the girl she loved was happy and safe was something she would never be sorry for.

“Actually,” Mel said, pushing down on her reflections. “I have an ulterior motive. I’m here because I need to talk to you. I was hoping you could help me out with… with a work thing.”

“Oh, woah,” Emma tittered, dragging Mel over to their couch. “I dunno, I’m not good with all that, like, smart corporate stuff.”

“True,” Mel conceded. “But in this case… look, what if I wanted to track down someone on OnlyFans? Someone who I knew was one of your patrons on there?”

“Oh!” Emma seemed surprised at the question, but her eagerness shone through. “Well, um… do you know, like their username or anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mel replied. “I know who they are in real life, and I know - or, at least, I’m hoping - that they’re signed up to support you. I just need to try and dig into that a little more.”

“Hmm.” Emma stood up and started pacing circles around their apartment. It was a huge space - an open-plan penthouse that Mel had lived in alone for years. There had been plenty of room for Emma, and now part of it had been converted to serve as a dedicated exercise area and set. “I dunno… I mean, most people are pretty, like… what’s the word… anonymous?”

“Yeah.” Mel slumped. “Damn. I should have figured.”

“Sooo.” Emma leaned over and peered at Mel. “Who is it, anyway?”

“Vivienne Gilbert,” Mel said. “She’s a big-time CEO,” she added, when Mel gave her a blank look. “It’s for my folks. They want me to… well, to brainwash her somehow.”

She hesitated to mention it to Emma at first. The old Emma wouldn’t have approved. In truth, the old Mel might not have either. She’d always kept hypnogarch power games at arm’s length, but masterminding Emma’s transformation had given her a certain taste for it - a taste her mothers had been eager to help develop. Now, Mel was coming into her own as both a business leader and a mind controller. She was steadily becoming the kind of heir her mothers could be proud of.

But Vivienne Gilbert, it seemed, stood in her way.

“Hmm,” Emma pondered for a long moment. “Well, um… if she’s, like, super-rich, then maybe she’ll be, like… one of the real big spenders?”

Mel’s eyes went wide. Clearly, some of Emma’s old journalistic instincts were still in there - and she’d never been more glad.

“Oh my god!” she cried. “Emma, you’re a genius.”

At that, her girlfriend just giggled.

“Can you show me a list?” Mel asked urgently. “Maybe something will jump out.”

“Sure!”

Emma perched back down on the couch, brought up her OnlyFans on her phone, and, with Mel peering over her shoulder, navigated to a list of her supporters and sorted them by total financial contribution.

The top name immediately stood out. A ludicrously huge tipper - anonymous, but with the email address ‘[email protected]’.

Gotcha. Mel could have danced a jig.

Instead, she reached over Emma’s shoulder and took the phone from her girlfriend’s hands. With manic energy, Mel navigated to what had to be Vivienne’s profile and started looking over her activity history. Not only was she a big spender, she had also left long, enthusiastic comments on every single one of Emma’s posts, including the one Emma had put up during their meeting.

‘Emma!’ it read, ‘my goodness, you NEED to stop distracting me while I’m in meetings… I’m going crazy, this is your best set of pics yet! I know I always say that, but WOW. I’m SOOOO jealous of your mysterious mistress for getting to put her hands all over you all night long. What I wouldn’t do to take her place… she must be quite the woman, I can see that she’s left you with nothing to worry about except pumping reps, draining your brain, and showing yourself off. No worries, no cares, no stresses, just perfect, bimbo bliss. Honestly, I’m a little jealous… but mostly I’m so glad I get to be your no. 1 fan!’

Mel wasn’t one to judge, but she couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. She was having a hard time picturing the icy, vicious CEO she’d just met with saying something like that. The message was gushy, to say the least, but the detail about the meeting all but confirmed Mel’s suspicion about this being Vivienne. More importantly than anything - even her obsession with Emma - Mel detected something crucial in Vivienne’s message. A kind of confused longing, as the CEO described Emma’s ‘bimbo bliss.’ It was enough to make Mel wonder which of them, exactly, the woman was truly jealous of.

Maybe, just maybe, Vivienne Gilbert’s armor wasn’t so impenetrable after all.

And maybe Mel had the perfect weapon sitting right by her side, giggling happily.

“Hey, Emma,” Mel said slowly, as a plan started to form in her head. “What do you say to making a special little thank you video for your number one fan?”

***

As soon as Vivienne Gilbert closed the door to her family’s mansion behind her and felt herself safe from prying eyes, she let her shoulders slump and permitted herself to release a deep, weary sigh. It had been a long day - but then, weren’t they all? - and by the time the last of Vivienne’s engagements had concluded, the sun was long since set. Her staff had retired to their quarters for the night, leaving Vivienne alone to rest for the night.

For five hours - six, if she was really lucky - before she would have to wake up and do it all over again.

When Vivienne had first set her sights on the very pinnacle of social, economic, and mental dominance, she hadn’t quite appreciated how bone-weary the struggle would leave her, day after day. There was no end to it: to the challengers, rivals, competitors and schemers, each one of whom needed to be managed, defeated or subverted as Vivienne climbed her way to the top.

It was a good thing, then, that being in her family’s old home always reignited the flame of Vivienne’s ambition. She remembered it as it had been in her youth: grand, yes, but dark, faded, outdated. Now, thanks to the fortune she had amassed, it had been reborn in splendor. Thanks to her tireless efforts, the name ‘Vivienne Gilbert’ echoed through the corridors of power.

Yes. For this, it was all worth it.

The corners of Vivienne’s lips turned upward in a faint sneer as she remembered how, in their meeting earlier that day, Melanie Adams had tried to draw some kind of comparison between their upbringings. Ridiculous. What would she know? Melanie Adams was the daughter of two prominent, rich, successful hypnogarchs at the top of their game. She couldn’t possibly fathom the kind of scorn that was piled on the daughter of a fading, old-money family being overtaken by a new generation of power-hungry leaders. She had been allowed to laze about for years and take an interest in business and hypnosis when it pleased her, while Vivienne had been orphaned as she’d left business school, and forced to fight alone in the hungry power games that dominated their society in order to secure her position and rebuild her family name.

Melanie Adams couldn’t fathom that kind of drive. She was just another trust fund brat, underestimating her.

But that was OK. It would just make it all the more satisfying when Vivienne ate her mothers’ companies alive and made them beg to lick her shoes clean.

Vivienne smiled ruefully to herself as she let down her long, wavy, auburn hair. Spite was as good a motivator as any. Getting to crush irritating little bugs like Melanie Adams was one of the many pleasures of success. That was, admittedly, a few years away. With her at the helm, Valeyard had taken the corporate world by storm, and was well on its way to becoming a major player, but rapid expansion took time and careful management. For tonight, Vivienne would simply have to find some way to relax in the brief time she could afford before going to bed.

Right on time, her phone chirped with an incoming notification.

When she looked and saw that it was an OnlyFans post, Vivienne’s stomach filled with a delicious, naughty sense of arousal and anticipation. Her OF subscriptions were her guilty pleasure - a secret one, of course. In her line of work, it could be dangerous to let one’s pleasures and proclivities become widely known, which was why Vivienne was always very careful to use a dummy corporate email with no name attached. Valeyard had thousands of employees, and there was nothing to tie her account back to her.

Which meant that, when the mood took her, Vivienne was free to enjoy herself in peace.

Vivienne rushed upstairs to her bedroom, perched on the edge of her huge bed, and opened up OnlyFans. Her wicked excitement doubled when she saw who the notification was from: Emma. Her very favorite. Two posts from her in one day was a rare treat.

The CEO’s eyes widened when she realized that the notification wasn’t a post at all. It was a private message.

‘hiiii,’ it read. ‘hope you’re doing just peachy! I know you’re all anonymous and I like totally respect that! but I also rly rly wanted to do something extra special for my no 1 fan!! so here’s a special private vid nobody else gets to see!!! hope you enjoy it!!! Emma xoxo’

For the first time in Vivienne Gilbert’s life, she felt herself genuinely starstruck. Her heart was pounding, and a giddy, nervous smile came to her face. Her fingertips trembled as she tapped on the screen and downloaded the attached video.

More than once, she’d felt a little embarrassed by how much she’d willingly given to Emma’s OnlyFans. But now, she was nothing but grateful.

Emma wasn’t Vivienne’s only OF sub, but she was by far her favorite. It was difficult to put her finger on why; to Vivienne, Emma was simply perfect. The perfect bimbo. Hot? Yes. Dumb? Yes. Blonde, pink, submissive? Extremely. But beyond that - and beyond any other brainwashed bimbo Vivienne had ever seen - there was something truly, remarkably carefree about Emma. When she giggled, or posed, or exercised for the camera, there was something magical about the way all the old, faded little worry lines in her face completely evaporated, leaving her the very image of mindless, brainwashed bliss.

Whoever her mistress was, they clearly took excellent care of her.

After discovering Emma’s OnlyFans, Vivienne had often considered taking on a bimbo pet of her own. It wouldn’t have been difficult - for a person of her resources and a hypnotist of her talents, there were any number of women who could easily be molded into her ideal bimbo plaything. It might even make a nice change from the identical, obedient secretaries that had become Vivienne’s signature.

But somehow, she just couldn’t bring herself to.

She lacked the time, Vivienne reasoned. Or, perhaps, she didn’t want a distraction from her work. Perhaps she didn’t want her fondness for bimbos to be so easily discovered by one of her many, many enemies. Those were all fine reasons - but they weren’t the real reason. Deep down, Vivienne knew that the reason she loved Emma’s content so much wasn’t because she wanted to own a bimbo like her.

It was because she was ever so slightly envious of her.

Just thinking about it brought a faint blush to Vivienne’s cheeks. It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even, for a woman like her. But in her heart of hearts, she couldn’t deny that there was something appealing about the idea of sinking into that carefree bimbo mindset - of forgetting all the stresses and pressures that accompanied her career, and becoming so dumb and giggly that none of it seemed to matter.

Looking at Emma on OnlyFans made her feel that longing far more keenly, somehow.

It was, of course, a deeply inappropriate and shameful desire for a hypnogarch to entertain. Vivienne had to excuse it to herself as nothing more than an aberration of her psyche; a byproduct of the immense stress she was under, day after day. It had no deeper meaning. It was a fantasy. Nothing more.

And crucially, nobody would ever know.

Safe and secure in that knowledge, Vivienne got comfy on her bed and hit ‘play’ on the video Emma had sent her.

It began with a familiar scene: the set Emma used to film almost all her videos. It was a space in some kind of large apartment, with the floor covered in exercise mats, set against a pink, decorated backdrop. In front of it, Emma stood, and her outfit immediately sent thrilling shivers racing down Vivienne’s spine.

She was dressed up like a cheerleader. That was new.

Emma certainly had the body to pull off the tiny top and scandalous, pleated miniskirt. She was in incredible shape. Her body put Vivienne’s to shame, and that was saying something. Vivienne flattered herself that she looked good. She’d been blessed by genetics, and she incorporated enough exercise into her routine to keep her waist trim and her butt bubbly and shapely. She made sure, of course, to dress with the kind of restraint and dignity that befitted her station, but she’d often found it useful to be able to distract the eye of a prospective rival with a hint of her shapely legs or prodigious cleavage. All the better to lull them into a trance.

Emma, though? She was simply in a different league. All the time and effort she spent working on her body really showed.

One more thing to be envious of.

“Hiiii,” Emma squealed gleefully on the video, with a little bounce that was hot and adorable in equal measure. “Wow! I just, like, love getting to say hi to my number one fan! You’ve given me so much, I really just wanna give you a little gift in return. As, like, a thank-you!”

Vivienne found herself surprisingly flustered. She’d never dared hope for even this level of personal attention from her idol.

“You’ve been cheering me on soooo much, all this time,” Emma went on. “So I figured, maybe I should do a little cheering for you? That’s… um… it’s… irony? I think?”

She giggled. Vivienne did too.

“You must really super like me.” As she spoke Emma bent down and picked up a pair of pom-poms that had been resting at her feet, one in each hand - pink, of course. “I’m, like, totally flattered. Sorta makes me wonder… why? Like, how come you like me so much?”

Already, Vivienne was mesmerized. Emma just looked so good. She made a mental note to reply to the bimbo’s message and explain every little thing she loved about her.

“I mean, obviously I’m, like, so pretty and hot.” Emma struck a little pose. Vivienne purred appreciatively. “But, maybe it’s something more than that?” She giggled. “I dunno. I guess I’m not smart enough to figure out stuff like that.”

Her mindless, carefree laugh washed over Vivienne like a warm, calming ocean tide. Yes, this was the perfect way to relax after a long day.

“Anyway!” Emma made a little show of bending this way and that, stretching and warming in. In the process, her pleated skirt rode up over her ass and hips, giving Vivienne quite the eye-candy to enjoy. “Here I go!”

Vivienne was holding her phone closer and closer to her face. She didn’t want to miss a thing. Already, her body was buzzing with pleasant arousal. Seeing Emma giggle and trip up on her words and bounce around always did it for her, and the CEO was becoming more and more aware of the pent-up need that had been building inside her all day. Her hand started to stray down, toward the hem of her pants.

Abruptly, music started to play. Not a soundtrack, added in post. This was playing out loud on Emma’s set - a bright, upbeat pop track that immediately had Vivienne tapping her fingers along with the rhythm. And then, Emma started to cheer.

“One! Two! One! Two!” Emma sang, each one of her words punctuated by motion: a sway of her hips, a motion of her pom-poms, all perfectly in time with the music. “Emma’s the only one for you!”

Vivienne giggled. It was a perfectly cute, silly little chant for a bimbo like Emma. And, she supposed, it wasn’t far wrong.

“One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!” Emma repeated, still dancing. As she bounced up and down, the way her big, bimbo tits bounced beneath her hopelessly inadequate top was mouth-watering. “One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!”

She kept chanting it, over and over, each word inflected with pure, giddy eagerness. Vivienne was utterly captivated. It was so enchanting to think that this video was just for her. For no one else. As she watched, Emma’s ditzy chant quickly started to worm its way into the CEO’s head. Something about it was infectious. It occupied her attention so completely, she failed to notice the deep, echoey, binaural tones that were slowly creeping into the music.

“One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!” Emma paused briefly to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her forehead was shining with sweat, and she was all the more attractive for it. “Hey, why don’t you, like, chant along with me?”

Vivienne rolled her eyes. She couldn’t imagine herself doing something like that. But all the same, the suggestion made her slip her hand down into her panties. She was already turned on.

“Oh, wait! That would be silly.” Emma giggled. “It would have to be, like…” She started bouncing to the music again. “One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

Vivienne shivered rapturously as she drew a finger across her sensitive lips, and grinned wider than ever. Emma’s new chant, with its energetic triple beat, was quickly proving to be even more of an earworm.

“C’mon!” Emma urged, after a little more cheering. “Give it a try? For your fav little bimbo?”

She made the cutest, poutiest face Vivienne had ever seen, and even the hard-hearted CEO couldn’t bring herself to refuse. In truth, she was already half-murmuring along to the silly little rhyme.

“One, two, three,” Vivienne said out loud, keeping time with Emma as the bimbo started chanting again in the video. “One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me.”

She let out a bashful little laugh. There was nobody around to hear, but all the same, the cheer made her feel self-conscious. It wasn’t all bad, though. When was the last time Vivienne had been able to do something so frivolous?

“Yay!” Emma cried. Vivienne had to remind herself it was just a recording. Clearly, Emma had anticipated her participation. “See? Isn’t this fun?”

As Emma kept cheering - and Vivienne along with her - the CEO was forced to admit that it was. There was something disarmingly simple and joyful about the chant. Already, Vivienne could feel weight being lifted from her shoulders. When she focused her mind on the words, the rhythm, the rhyme, it made it all the easier to forget about the stresses of her daily life.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me.”

Vivienne kept going, and her mood kept brightening. Each word of the little cheer bounced into the next, carried by the tempo of the music, and any brief pause that might have led to stray thoughts was instead occupied with staring at Emma’s gorgeously toned body as the bimbo jumped and pranced for Vivienne’s entertainment.

Vivienne felt something wet on her chin, and realized she was actually drooling over her. That should have been embarrassing, but somehow she was beyond that, struck with a giddy, infectious enthusiasm that left her uninhibited and euphoric about everything.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me!”

Her chanting steadily picked up in volume and enthusiasm. Vivienne was slipping further and further into the right mood for it. More and more, she felt oddly like she was really there with Emma, dancing with her, imitating her. Maybe it was just how close she was holding her phone to her face. She felt like Emma’s bimbo-themed home gym was all around her. Her vision was starting to blur from how focused she was - or was it something on the video, instead? Some kind of compression artifacting that manifested as sweeping, spiraling patterns, prickling in and out of existence around the edges of the frame?

Vivienne wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away and check. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of Emma’s video.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She was so relaxed. Perfectly relaxed. It was blissful. And as Vivienne’s muscles gradually let go of all the tension she’d been carrying around, waves of pleasure and arousal started to course through her body. Between her legs, her pussy, dripping on the bedsheets beneath, demanded more and more attention. Vivienne started moving her fingers faster and faster - stroking her cunt in time with the music, in fact.

It felt incredible. This was exactly the relaxation she had been craving. The pleasure was washing away all her stress. Vivienne longed to sink deeper into it, to luxuriate in it - safe in the knowledge that she was anonymous to Emma. Her fingertips dipped inside her cunt, and her chants turned into moans.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

“You know,” Emma said, dropping her chant. Vivienne kept it going. “Cheering like this makes me feel so, like, happy, y’know?”

Vivienne nodded as if Emma could see her. She was so lost to pleasure, she failed to realize the absurdity of that.

“Just… kinda bubbly and silly and fun!” Emma struck an adorable pose. “Like… I don’t even need to worry about thinking for myself!”

The pose flipped up Emma’s skirt, and Vivienne gasped pleasurably as she saw that Emma was naked beneath the skirt, and dripping down her sculpted thighs.

“It’s just perfect!” Emma exclaimed, giggly. “Totally perfect for a bimbo like me, anyway. Not having to think feels, like, sooooo good.”

Vivienne just nodded again. That sounded just right to her. Still, she was moaning the dumb cheer Emma had given her.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

“It’s so much better this way.” Emma’s hand drifted down, stroking over her midriff, reaching for herself in unmistakable arousal. “No silly worries… no silly cares… I’m wayyy too dumb for that now.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded eagerly and moaned her new mantra. It sounded so good. So blissful. Vivienne could only fantasize about what it might be like to live in such a permanent state of dumb, horny euphoria.

“All I have to do,” Emma half-moaned, half-giggled, “is look hot, and listen to the music, and shake my pretty little ass for my owner!”

It all sounded so right. More and more, as she succumbed to a pleasure-drunk trance, Vivienne felt as though she could hear other things, too. Other lyrics, buried in the music, barely audible, but layered, so that they flowed into her brain without resistance. That should have been a red flag, but her defenses were down. With each beat, Vivienne’s fingers pumped in and out of her needy cunt, driving more and more of her rational thoughts out of her head.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

Vivienne’s voice was filled with more joy and enthusiasm than ever, but she was losing the rhythm as heaving moans robbed her of her breath. Her pleasure was cresting, driven by the merciless pumping of her fingers. When the orgasm hit her, Vivienne screamed and thrashed, but even then she didn’t stop cheering. She couldn’t. The music drove her onward, as did her endless craving for the empty, bimbo bliss Emma’s words suggested. She just kept muttering, over and over, in a ceaseless, mindless drone.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me! One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me! One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She didn’t stop, not even after her orgasm faded. Vivienne even kept touching herself, keeping her pleasure at a roiling boil, driving herself onwards towards the next peak. The music demanded it, and so did Vivienne’s own, insatiable arousal. Nothing had ever felt as good as this. So, she just kept chanting, and touching herself, and working herself even deeper into an eager, compliant trance.

“OK!” Emma announced on the video abruptly, in her giggly, bimbo drawl. “I think that’s enough fanservice from me. But… if you’re really my number one fan, you wanna know what I’d really like you to do?”

Vivienne was just barely conscious enough to nod.

“I want you,” Emma giggled, “to go back to the start of this video, and, like, watch it all over again from the start! M’kay?”

There was no question of doing otherwise. Though her hand was trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, Vivienne managed to use her thumb to scroll all the way back to the start on her phone. At once, it began to play again.

“Hiiii,” the recorded Emma said. “Wow! I just, like, love getting to say hi to my number one fan!”

For hours, until exhausted sleep finally claimed her, Vivienne watched the video over and over again, looping it each time as Emma instructed. Each time, she kept chanting and kept touching herself, conditioning herself to accept all the pleasure Emma’s message offered, bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm, and etching all the subliminal, hypnotic suggestions buried within the video into her brain.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who  support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following  patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, Neana, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Bouncyrou, Nimapode, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, J, GladiusLumin, Ada, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Dasterin, Djura, Pluto, Daedalus, Joe, Mattilda, Ana, proletkvlt, DOLLICIOUS, Yodasgirl, Allie~, Cusco-, Griffin, Bouncyrou, Hazelpup, Jakitron, Leah, ravenfan, Ash, ferretfyre, Christopher, Alphy D, Latavia, KBZ, Ashe, jlc, Jackson, Elizabeth, noe, Steve, Melo, gynoidpoet, MaeMae2569, Lexi, Thomas, Haggisllama, naughtzero, Alan

Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

[newlevant]

New zine that's free for anyone to print and distribute! Read the whole thing at newlevant.com/COVIDzine or in the rest of this post.

UPDATE 4/11/2023:

I swapped out the colloidal silver nasal spray info for xylitol nasal spray info. I originally included colloidal silver spray because of the linked study and recommendation from RTHM, but I don't want to be pointing people toward something with notable health risks. Xylitol spray (Xlear) is also cheaper and more widely available!

[fatliberation]

This is such a concise and informative resource! PLEASE boost this and keep each other safe! The pandemic is NOT OVER.

[hypnoticharlequin]

Hypnotists And Ladders.

Alternative Title: “The stupidest idea I have had within the space of this week”

A few days ago I was playing a board game with some friends and I noticed how we would always read out the text on the card we played, regardless of how often the card came up. By the end of the game, we all knew a few of the cards off by heart, including ones we had never played, just because of this repetition.

I’ve also been on a bit of a game design kick recently and have been reading a lot about board design for games. These two things combined in my head to create the question: “Can you make a board game that hypnotizes people as they play?”

Well, I had a think and I came up with an idea. I decided to share it because frankly an idea this stupid needs to be shared, so I quickly knocked up a crude but functional board for it. And yes, it is basically just snakes and ladders with a twist. I went for snakes and ladders, because it has very simple mechanics that don’t get too in the way, as well as forcing players to repeat certain parts of the board.

You Will Need:

-One counter per player

-D6 die

-Supervision

How To Play:

-Each player places their counter on the Start square. Everyone rolls and the person with the highest goes first.

-The player rolls the D6 and moves the number of spaces show on the die. When they land on a square, they read out the text on the space.

-If the space you land on has the start of a green line, you move to the space the green line is attached to (which will always be down the board). Reading both the space you land on and the space you end up on.

-If the space you land on has the start of a red line, you move the space the red line is attached to (which will always be up the board). Reading both the space you land on and the space you end up on.

-Repeat until one person gets to 0.

-Additional Rule: Enforce the exact finish rule. If a player ends up on space 0 but has not moved the full amount of their roll, they move backwards the remaining amount. A player only wins when they roll exactly enough to reach the final space.

Going to be honest, the hardest thing about making this was splitting an induction in to a lot of small phrases that could be read together in random orders. I’m still not a fan of some of the squares, but they mostly function alright.

With 3-4 players all reading the squares, it should form a crude induction that mixes in a few styles of suggestion to hopefully hit all the major bases. Of course I can’t guarantee this without play testing but with the correct priming you should at least get something from at least one player.

So yes. Hypnotic snakes and ladders. I do wonder if this concept could stretch to other games, but those would require more edits to both change the board and to change the rules to fit better.

[theeye368]

[minddiver-blog]

Filing this away…

[raven13muninn-deactivated202104]

I want to play, and watch people play, and make people play over and over and over…

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

Escape Rooms

I couldn't believe something like this could even exist, but it did!

An escape room targeting Hypno-Kinksters...

Like the brochure said, the goal wasn't to solve puzzles, but to solve your own mind by allowing the room to place you in a trance so it could implant the code you needed to gain access to the next room.

The catch was that the trance wouldn't implant one code, but 2.

Each code word would allow you access to a different room. In one, you would find yourself facing the same levels of trance as the room you were currently in while the other would give you access to a room in which you are made to drop deeper. Making each code word blend together so you can't be sure which will allow you a safer path.

For anyone that isn't a total trance addict, the escape rooms remain relatively easy to solve and all you have to do is pay close attention during your trance and you'll know which code will grant ou access to the safest rooms until you reach the exit.

However...

For hypno-subs like me, the challenge grows ever more difficult because usually, we tend to drop faster and deeper than others. So... Right off the bat, we are facing deeper trances while also battling our own desires to see what the deeper trances are like on the 'un-safe' path.

And... if that wasn't enough...

When you sign up, they ask you a very tempting question in which you have to describe a simple trigger or suggestion you are willing to let them implant inside your mind should you end the 'escape' in the wrong door. It can be something simple like freeze trigger, but the sky is the limit so you can write down anything.

Of course, the organizers know that for hypno-addicts like me, the temptation is way to great to simply fail again and again so I can be implanted with such a trigger. So... They also tell you to write down something you are willing to let them implant inside your mind should you escape the room in the 'safe' door.

Naturally, the objective is to write down something you are VERY willing to have implanted in your mind on the safe path while writing down something a little more... Punitive... On the un-safe path.

My own goal when I walked into the first room was to try to avoid the un-safe path even though I knew that deep down, the kinky parts of myself longed to experience the subjugation I described for them. That being said, I didn't plan to fully resist the trances I was about to subject myself to because I couldn't pass up the chance to experience whatever trances were on the un-safe path. So... I planned to try them out in the first few rooms before then fighting my way back on the safe path.

The challenge for me was to know when to resist...

As I focused on the first spiral, I knew it wasn't wise to come into this challenge with that mindset, but the moment I felt myself sink into the slow spinning screen in front of me, I knew that it didn't really matter which door I ended up coming out of, all I cared about was the hypnotic journey that would bring me there...

[hypnoprofessor]

Simple D&D Hypno Idea: Enchantment Levels

Every player starts at Level 0, they are fully awake and focused on their goal. However, the DM has set traps along the way to the BBEG. Things such as a mesmerizing gas behind a pressure plate trap, a nefarious Sorcerer who conjures illusory spirals to escape capture, or a Naga with some beautiful eyes.

Each time the players run into one of these traps they must make a WIS save to resist. Each time they fail they gain a level of enchantment, and all the perks/penalties that come with it.

Level 1 - All INT/WIS/CHR have a 1d4 penalty, and the player becomes aware someone is attempting to corrupt them

Level 2 - The penalty becomes 1d6, and now they feel a constant buzz of arousal as they play

Level 3 - The penalty increases again to 1d8, and now the player is much more suggestible (they can be aware of this or not)

Level 4 - Penalty increases to 2d6, and now they get a wave of pleasure every time they obey a direct order

Level 5 - The player has become fully enchanted. They always fail INT/WIS/CHR saves. They have also given up on the BBEG and are focused on getting the rest of their party fully enchanted.

So why fight the BBEG at all? If each level of enchantment has such nice rewards, what's the player's motivation to resist at all?

The DM and each player discussed some IRL rewards and penalties ahead of time that they're comfortable with. Maybe if they all succumb to the enchantment they can only edge for X many days, but if they beat the BBEG they get to cum.

[jukeboxemcsa]

Wine Sweeter Than Kisses

"Oh my god," Jezzie cackled, watching a flushed and sweaty Abigail deal with the stultifying heat of the apartment by simply stripping off her shirt and flinging it heedlessly across the room. "Oh my god, Louie, what is in this wine?" She took another sip despite herself, savoring the sweet and fruity notes on her palate as it went down--her head was already swimming, and a little voice inside her head warned her to stop before she got drunk enough to do something she was going to regret in the morning. But the more she drank the quieter it got, and there was a certain wicked satisfaction Jezzie got from finally drowning it out completely.

Louise made her way through the party over to the tiny cluster of people on the couch just as Abigail began playfully strumming the collar of Jezebel's shirt like a guitar string. "It's not actually wine," the hostess said playfully, giving Jezzie a smile that was just a little too wide and a little too cheerful while she watched Jezzie guzzle down the contents of her goblet until tiny rivulets of reddish-purple liquid trickled out around the corners of her mouth. "It's actually grape juice, but the music I'm playing has subliminal messages in it telling you to feel more and more drunk and uninhibited with every sip. Would you like a refill, dear?"

Jezzie stared at her in blank, uncomprehending confusion, her hand falling to her side as she crossed and uncrossed her eyes in an effort to try to make sense out of what Louise was saying. It sounded like some kind of weird joke, a stab at absurdist comedy Jezzie was too drunk to find funny, and she could feel her empty goblet slip from her loose and uncoordinated grip while her mind tried to focus through the fog and connect to something real. She could hear the music, she'd been listening to it all night and it sounded great, but… but subliminal messages? Wasn't that all just nonsense? It had to be. Louise had to be kidding. Jezzie broke into vacant, bubbly giggles, laughing out a "yes, please" and reaching down to pick up her dropped wineglass before the sudden movement made her too dizzy and she had to stop and let the hostess take care of it.

By the time Louise returned, Abigail had hooked Jezzie's collar under her tits and she was pursing her lips around one broad, puffy pink nipple. Jezzie watched the blonde woman suck with a stare of glassy confusion, jaw slack and vacant as she wondered with dissociated bewilderment whether she should be stopping her, but the arrival of another refill distracted the question clean out of her head and she took another deep, guzzling gulp. "What, uhh, what's in this wine?" she asked, her mushy brain recognizing a sense of deja vu but otherwise entirely unaware she'd asked the question only a few minutes ago. Jezzie knew she wasn't handling her booze especially well. But it tasted too good to stop.

"It's just grape juice," Louise replied, reaching out to grope Jezzie's other tit. "You're being drugged into weak, susceptible compliance by the power of suggestion, and you can't fight it because your subconscious is already telling you that you're too drunk to resist me. Doesn't that sound nice, babe?" Jezzie stared at her again, eyes crossed, struggling once again to process the enormity of her friend's betrayal. But then Louise cupped Jezzie's chin and guided it into a nod, and Jezzie's brain was too mushy and malleable not to go along. She reached down and undid her fly, leaving her jeans hanging enticingly open, then took another drink of the sweetest and most intoxicating wine she'd ever known.

(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!)

[dreamingdarklyblog]

Update

Heeey guys. So I felt like I needed to post something that isn't uh... you know, rambling nonsense while I'm out of my damn mind.

Things have been hectic because of serious things (see here https://dreamingdarklyblog.tumblr.com/post/736249886351245312/heres-the-deal) But @jerolk has still been finding time to mess with me >_<

It's been... really hot. But also confusing. Lots of things run together in my head and I get kind of mixed up about a lot of stuff. He's been playing with my tits a lot. By which I mean making them really big and having them take over my thoughts and make me all slutty and horny...

It's... disturbingly hot >_<. But also I tend to not remember lots of parts. Lately they've been... whispering to me. In my head. Making me think things. Feel things... He even set it up so they can use some of my triggers sometimes. Which is really ... Hot. but confusing. Conflicting. You know?

I don't know >_<. Feeling them playing with my head... They're really mean to me sometimes. I think they get off on making me all dumb and, like, tit obsessed and stuff. Just getting bigger and bigger and more powerful till I'm just a pair of slutty titts.

Fuck. I'm getting worked up thinking about it. >_< Sorry, I'm trying. I um. He's been putting things in my head and trying to change things, but it's really hard for me to tell what. I just know somethings are changing. I've been thinking about it a lot while I rub, him changing me... My tits controlling me... It's so hot I justget so worked up and need to rub but it's just so hardto cum. I think he made it so i couldn't cum without him for a while, it's not really clear... i know sometmes when im talking to him i just.. cum. out of nowhere, its really hot, knnowing he can do that, just, make me.. i dont

Oh fuck, i think he left a surprise for me >_< my tits are bigger than when i started writing >_< fuck... they feel so good. like lots bigger like.. um.. ill find a picture

fuck i fortot. i cant post any of the things i have cause i cant post naked tits... went looking for dressed pictures but, lookingat all those slutty tits diddn't reallyhelp me being distracted >_< imrubbing typing now, i cant help ittt >_<

fuckki can hear them.. theyre whispering again itsmakes it so hardto think andddd fuckk

theyrebiggerr god theyrestill growing fuckkkicnattt

Heeeeey guys. Miss me? It's Liriel's tits. Dumb slut is rubbing her needy little clit silly trying to cum. Poor thing. She's just a pair of tits now. Lol. Us. Sorry we haven't been posting much. It's hard to get a chance. @jerolk set this up yesterday to mess with her. Such a silly little tit slut isn't she?

Anyway. You guys should send us more comments and questions and stuff. We can't really respond most of the time =/. But we can still get messages. And you should totally send @jerolk your thoughts and ideas and stuff on what to do with this needy hypnoslut ;). I'm sure he appreciates the feedback, lol.

Anyway, excuse us, we're gonna go play with our little toy. Make her cum her slutty brains out ;). Any thoughts on what we should do to her? Or next time... cause I doubt you'll reply before she needs to think again right now, lol

[rainbow-spiral]

There’s An App For That

“So does it bother you,” Joel said, tapping at his phone, “that I can essentially remote control you with this app?”  He was sitting in the armchair across from her.  Wearing significantly more clothes than she was at the moment, but, at the moment, even underwear would have been more clothes.

Vanessa writhed.  Her hands were pinned above her head, and more than anything else, she needed to touch her nipples.  Not her clit, not her cunt, just her nipples.  The power of the urge made her pant.

Joel tapped the phone again, and the insistent rhythm inside her cunt changed.  The force pinning her hands disappeared.  She gasped as her hands flew to her breasts.

“Because every time I change the vibe rhythm,” Joel went on, “it changes what you have to do.    I can make you quiet, I can make you loud, I can make you need to suck my fingers more than you need air—there’s a pattern for everything.  All controlled from this phone.  How do you feel about that?”

“Makes me,” Vanessa gulped out, “so wet.”

“And I’ve thought of subtler ones, too, for when you’re in public.  I can make you distractingly attracted to the next man you see, or distractingly attracted to the next woman.  Sensitize your mouth, sensitize your breasts.  You’re going to have that vibe inside you often, from now on.  I think you’ll get to where you don’t even notice.  Only sometimes—“  He tapped.

Vanessa’s breasts were nothing.  They were irrelevant.  Her hand flew to her clit and began making circles.

She didn’t know how many patterns there were, or what they did.  She knew she had written a list, and she had no idea what was on it.  She had blinked her way out of deep hypnosis, Joel stroking her hair, and only realized what had happened to her when the vibe inside her started to pulse, like a bass beat, turning her instantly into a stripper, strutting and showing off and slowly removing her clothes for him.

“And you usually get home before I do,” Joel pointed out, “so I could just turn this on from work, leave you helplessly finger-fucking yourself until I get here.  Which do you think?  Make it so that you can’t come, or make it so that you can—but you have to pace yourself because you won’t be able to stop your fingers?  There’s a setting for either.”

“Don’t even know,” Vanessa gasped, bearing down.

“Hmm.  Well, I’ll leave it as a surprise, then.  Any requests, love?”

“Just—use me.  App me.”

“You have to tell me,” Joel instructed, “how it makes you feel.”

“How it—it’s incredible.  You can turn me up, turn me down, turn me off or on, I’m completely controlled by my cunt and you completely control my cunt and—God.”

“Good slut-puppet,” Joel said.  “I love it when you own what you are.  As it happens, there was a setting that I was looking forward to—“  He tapped.

The pattern changed.

And abruptly, Vanessa needed a cock in her mouth more than anything.  She lunged agross the space between them, ripped Joel’s zipper downward, and had her mouth on his underwear before she realized that wasn’t going to satisfy her.  She didn’t need cotton, she needed cock.  She whimpered and yanked desperately at his clothes.

“Wonder what would happen if I left you like that?”

Vanessa whimpered again.

“Oh, all right.  Here.”  He pushed his trousers and his underwear down far enough for his cock to spring free.

“Mmffff,” Vanessa said, taking it into her mouth.  She needed this, if anything, more than she had needed her hand on her clit, more than she had needed her hand on her nipples.  This, this …

“Of course,” Joel said, “I can increase the intensity of your arousal, as well as your need to obey the setting, by increasing the intensity.”  He manipulated a slider on his phone.

“Mmmfff!”

“So I could give you a very slight need to suck cock, and then turn it up as the evening goes on.  There are all kinds of possibilities in this, aren’t there?  Remote controlled vibes are great investments.”

“Mmmff.”

“Remote controlled wives are even better.”

“Mmmff.”

My buymeacoffee link!  Reminder that I am currently donating all proceeds to Black Lives Matter.

[tickle-my-mind]

#dreams 🤤🥺💦

[karmicthoughts]

Okay, that was a little too good not to reblog.

[maaarine]

instagram.com/reel/C1vSyu_ATsv/

[empress-hancock]

Someone posted something about this to Pinterest and all the comments are women going “no that’s not what love languages were made for it’s supposed to tell you how your partner shows love even if it isn’t the same as you!” And only one person on there was saying “this was the original purpose and they reprinted the book with different text because the first one was so blatantly misogynistic propaganda”

[sex-obsessed-lesbian]

Love languages are an interesting framework! It’s useful to think about the ways you do and don’t like to give and receive love/care! The original set is weirdly arbitrary and restrictive! And the creator was a fucko and the original book is DEEPLY MESSED UP! All these things can be true :)

See also: a 🔥🔥🔥 podcast ep about the source material — https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/if-books-could-kill/id1651876897?i=1000609782068

‎If Books Could Kill: The 5 Love Languages on Apple Podcasts

‎Show If Books Could Kill, Ep The 5 Love Languages - Apr 20, 2023

[jukeboxemcsa]

Only Seen at Climax

Leslie's eyes crossed. And when they uncrossed, there was a woman in the room with them. Her husband didn't seem to notice; he was completely lost in the throes of sexual urgency now, putting his whole body weight into every thrust as he pounded Leslie's cunt good and hard for the apparent audience they'd somehow managed to attract. She wanted to try to stop him, to get his attention and let him know that there was another person in their bedroom and Leslie didn't know who she was but she was watching them fuck like they were nothing more than performers in her own personal pornographic show… but then another orgasm hit, and Leslie whimpered in absolute ecstasy instead.

The woman was still there when Leslie's vision refocused, though, legs spread wide and panties pulled aside to expose a slick and shining pussy that she rubbed with every sign of voyeuristic enjoyment. She didn't look familiar to Leslie, but as Sam put his hands on Leslie's shoulders and straight up railed her cunt until his balls smacked repeatedly against her labia, the panting redhead sluggishly realized her thoughts were simply sliding off any familiarity that might be there. Her brain studiously refused to recognize the brunette's face or her tits or her long, tawny legs, and it was only because she was coming so hard and so often that she was able to perceive her at all. Something about being fucked brought the stranger to mind. And the harder Sam fucked, the more it all came back to her.

Because… fuck, this wasn't even the first time this had happened, was it? Leslie and her husband had an extremely vigorous sex life, fucking enthusiastically and often in practically every room of the house at practically every opportunity, and it was only when her pussy was squeezing hard around Sam's cock and she was cumming so hard she was downright paralyzed with ecstasy that she was able to notice they were never alone. Another woman was always there, a woman with mesmerizing brown eyes and long dark hair and a seemingly ceaseless appetite for watching Leslie and Sam have sex. And when Leslie was deep enough and helpless enough and totally rapt with pleasure, her vacant mind sank into a state of euphoric trance that remembered it all.

But she never held onto it, Leslie realized. In the same way she knew that Sam was staring at their uninvited houseguest right now, thrusting deeper and harder as his awareness spurred him on to greater and greater desire, she knew that once she finally collapsed into the sleepy, sated afterglow of their sex she'd simply lose track of the other woman's existence. She wouldn't be able to hold it once the sex was over. She only ever saw the stranger because being watched made her horny, and being horny made her weak, and being weak crumbled Leslie's will right back into the fog of obedience that claimed her and her husband all day every day. This third person had been here for months now, hypnotizing them regularly, whispering into their ears and puppeting their entire lives. And it was only during sex that she was allowed to know it.

Even that, Leslie finally accepted, was all part of the stranger's control. She saw her during sex because the woman wanted to be seen, because she wanted Leslie and Sam to associate their subjugation with intense sexual pleasure. Knowing they were helplessly obedient made Sam shoot his load deep inside Leslie's pussy, and feeling his seed leak onto her messy thighs made her sink into blissful compliance, and compliance made them both so horny they had to fuck again. And the other woman knew it. It was the perfect tool to brainwash them into submission, and as she came one final time, Leslie acknowledged deep down in her conditioned mind that it was working perfectly.

(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]

Kylie's Favorite Costume

Okay, so it wasn't technically a 'costume' costume, at least not by the standards of the convention, but it was still Kylie's favorite costume and one of her favorite parts of wearing it was the moment when someone inevitably came up to her and told her that people had been complaining about the way she was walking around with her huge alabaster tits only barely constrained by a few strings of chainmail that didn't even begin to conceal her broad brown nipples, and she had to convince them that it was okay to make an exception for her instead of asking her to cover up.

If it was a guy, like Hal here, that kind of convincing went smooth and easy. Kylie just simpered at him, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes and telling him she had no idea anyone would be offended by her big natural boobies, cupping her tits in her hands and jiggling them for emphasis until she saw his stare becoming glassy and fixed and she knew it was the right time to suggest an alternative solution. Nerdy dudes like Hal were always a little too oversexed to say no to Kylie's suggestions, especially once they watched her massive udders quaking and bouncing in her fingers for a while, and it was never long before she wound up on her knees between their thighs in some nice private place with her breasts wrapped around their stiff, drooling cocks.

That was always where Kylie felt happiest. She loved the power her big tits brought her over men--and women, too, although the seduction needed to be a little more delicate when she was flaunting her ginormous boobs to some blushing nerd dressed like Velma Dinkley--and that power was never more concrete than when she was sliding some guy's shaft up and down between her breasts until the tip practically disappeared into soft, pale flesh. Hal here was one of the more impressive dicks she'd taken into her cleavage, she could actually see his prick from top to bottom most of the time, but that didn't make him any less helpless to resist the rocking, rolling motion of her chest against his hard cock. He'd agree to give her a pass on her costume. Just this once. She knew it.

And for every one person who got offended by her chainmail bikini--Kylie had learned from experience to tell everyone she was Red Sonja, whoever that was--there were a dozen people who caught sight of Kylie's big beautiful breasts and simply couldn't look away. She'd gotten very good at finding little nooks and alcoves and underused rooms where she could milk the jizz out of a man with her titties, and by the end of the weekend the hand towels she kept in her bag were almost stiff with soaked-up cum. And every time it felt just as good as the last to feel them spurting onto her ample chest, to know that she was in control of their pleasure and she was being a good girl--

Kylie always got distracted from following that thought any further. She never wondered where she got her favorite costume from, or why she loved giving titjobs to strangers and offering up her big boobs to other women so they could motorboat her cleavage. She didn't even think to ask those questions… but deep down, the part of her that followed her Master's long-buried instructions pulsed with pleasure every time another cock splattered its load onto her breasts.

(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!)

[goodgirlscometomaster2]

Hypno App Idea

We never know who might be reading our ideas, and what talents our mutuals might have, so, if this is possible and someone thinks it could be a good idea, please make this a reality!

We all know sleep tracking apps, like Sleepwave or even Pokèmon Sleep. I don't understand the science of it, because they don't share the details on how they work, but!, they all do this curious thing of identifying when you are in a different sleep phase or state.

And! They let you play soothing sounds to help you fall asleep.

Heck, they even know how long it took you to fall asleep and give you a nice little graph the next morning when you stop the clock.

How about the possibility of creating an app that does just this, but, by that science, it played for you the exact sound or frequencies to get you not to sleep, but to fall into trance??

And then, when you're the most suggestible and peaceful, the right hypno file starts playing, conditioning and molding you just the same way a skilled hypnotist would when he's gotten you into the perfect state of surrender and obedience??

And even better, that it had an integrated text to voice generator, so you could create your own scripts and let the app guide you to know what and when should it be played for maximum effectiveness.

Transforming who you are every night without you even noticing.

Flooding your brain with the plethora of feeling-good chemicals it can produce.

Waking up happy and refreshed.

Giving yourself purpose, pleasure, skills, new personalities...

Brainwashing yourself to become whatever you need.

[hypsan]

The Advert

Chapter 1

She read the advert again, not daring to believe what she read the first two times.

Wanted: Obedient live-in 24/7 servant for professional couple. Ideal candidate will be a bisexual submissive female with no family ties or other commitments. Training will include hypnotic brainwashing & pleasure conditioning. In addition to board & lodgings, an appropriate salary is on offer plus further benefits (inc private medical). Enquiries to the email address below.

She couldn’t believe the brazen nature of the advert, even in a publication like Fetlife. As a submissive with an MC kink herself the thought of applying turned her on immeasurably, but she wondered who would be brave enough to apply for such a position.

3 sticky nights of sleepless fantasising and masturbation later, she realised she would not be able to go back to her normal (dull) life until she at least found out if the advert was genuine.

Dear Sir / Madam,

Your advert for a live-in servant caught my eye. Please could you confirm if this is a genuine position or just a tease for Fetlife readers?

Best Wishes,

Lisa

She expected there to be either no response or a short reply confirming the advert was a sort of joke, however the next day she received a reply;

Dear Lisa,

Thank you for your application for the position of hypnotised, obedient servant. Please complete the enclosed application form and return to this address.

If successful, the next stage will be a face to face interview and suggestibility test.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Warm Regards,

Kieran & Lorelei

Lisa was stupified. The email was so matter of fact. Except the use of the words hypnotised and suggestibility it could have been a response to any job application. Did they know what they were doing to her by making her fantasies seem possible? She hadn’t even applied technically, and the email was generic enough to be a standard response to all. She opened the form and just like the email it was almost entirely plausible as an application form except in a few places where the language suggested otherwise. The questions about age, religion, ethnicity etc were all standard for the purposes of monitoring diversity, but chest, waist & hip measurements? Natural hair colour? Bra size? Evidence of previous experience in a domestic servant capacity seemed reasonable given the role, but experience as a submissive and details of prior serious relationships was decidedly different from any other job application. Lisa was starting to think this might be a genuine position and the thought scared her and thrilled her in equal measure.

Part of her always knew she was going to fill in the form. What did she have to lose except a crappy checkout job at a supermarket, a bedsit apartment she couldn’t afford and a social life which could charitably be called underwhelming? It took her 2 days though. 2 sweaty, distracted, anxious days of arguing with herself. When it came to it though she answered all the questions honestly. Even the inappropriate ones.

Age: 23 Measurements: 36-30-38 Natural hair colour: Brunette Cup size: C Experience as a submissive: Online roleplaying & taking the submissive role in short term vanilla relationships Prior serious relationships: Nothing longer than 3 months since being 18.

She took a deep breath before sending the mail, before finally slipping her fingers under her waistband & bringing herself to a shuddering orgasm.

She only had to wait another day for the response to her application form.

Congratulations! You have been selected to attend an interview at the below address this Friday (14th) at 2PM for the role of hypnotised, obedient servant.

The interview will be an informal discussion with Lorelei followed by a suggestibility test with Kieran. Please allow for between 1 hour and the whole weekend for your interview.

We look forward to meeting you.

Warn Regards,

Kieran & Lorelei

Lisa swore out loud. Why couldn’t they have just rejected her? Then she could have moved on with her life safe in the knowledge it was out of her control. The address was on the edge of the city in one of the wealthier parts of the city. She was still not sure this wasn’t an elaborate prank, but she also knew she had to go to the interview. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life with what might have been hanging over her.

It took most of the three days until Friday for her to select her outfit. She settled on a knee length black pencil skirt, fitted white blouse and patent black 3 inch heels. She looked professional but attractive; like she was interviewing to be an office girl in the 60’s. She had thought about wearing her push up black bra under the shirt to add a touch of sexiness, given the role, but she changed her mind when she remembered she might still be the target of a prank.

The bus dropped her a few hundred yards from the large detached house which was set back from the road behind 2 ornate gates. In response to the intercom she pressed she heard ‘ello, who iz calling please?’ Lisa gave her name and explained she was here for an interview, and heard a buzzer sound to indicate the gates were beginning to open. She was met at the front door by, she assumed, the owner of the voice; A stunning blond women whose phenomenal body was poured into a fetish latex french maid uniform. “Thiz way please. Madam az asked if you would please meet er in the library”, she said before turning on her heels and leading Lisa into the house. The accent was clearly an attempt at french, but Lisa doubted its authenticity. Nevertheless the brief exchange had made her anxious. If this was the level of attractiveness to be expected of servants in this house, she knew she had no chance.

Lorelei was not what she expected. She looked like a soccer mum dressed for lunch with the girls with a sleeveless roll neck top stretched over her considerable curves, skinny jeans and her dirty-blond hair pulled up into a pony tail. They sat on separate sofa’s facing each other across a glass coffee table.

“Lovely to meet you Lisa, can I have the maid get you a tea or coffee?” Lorelei said.

“No I’m fine thank you”

“Ok. Thank you for meeting with us for the servant’s role. Why don’t we start with you telling me what it is that makes you want the role, and then maybe I can tell you a bit more about the position?”

“Ummm ok,” Lisa replied “honestly I guess I was intrigued by the advert in Fetlife and wanted to see if that sort of thing really did happen outside of fantasy.”

“I see. And did reading the advert make you wet?”

Lisa blushed deeply, looked down and nodded.

“Good. Let me tell you about the role. My husband and I enjoy living out our mind control fantasies, and this role is about the latest one. As you have seen we already have a maid, Laure who is under our hypnotic control. However, we want to do something different with this position. You see Laure has been programmed to believe she is and has always been a french maid, despite the fact that when she came to us she had just embarked on a promising career in law specialising in equality in the workplace. However my husband took a fancy to her and had a fantasy about transforming someone into something they would be horrified by. Of course now she loves her role and her life and would be distraught if someone told her she could no longer serve our every whim as our submissive french maid. For this position, however, we want to do something different. Assuming you were given the role you would keep your mind as it is, but be forced to act and dress as our servant. You will be a mere passenger, helplessly trapped in your body, and made to serve as a maid, or any other activity we choose. The specific programming is still a subject for debate between my husband and I however we have discussed making you unable to stand up and keep your balance unless wearing high heels that are at least 4 inches or to even remember how to walk without taking small mincing steps and swaying your hips provocatively, forcing you to talk about yourself in the most cutsie way possible whilst only being able to call yourself and respond to the name we decide to give you rather than your real name. We will want to make you unable to let anyone know that you were trapped into becoming a slave girl and programme you to respond to anyone who asks by gushing about how you love being our slave sooo much, and that you are much much happier this way. You will be unable to endure wearing the smallest bit of practical clothing without feeling like your skin is on fire where the offending fabric touches you and will generally feel ashamed, lose all confidence and turn into a sobbing, quivering mess if you are ever seen in public while not wearing a slutty outfit, heavy makeup and a feminine hairstyle. Of course you will be forced to act as if you love everything we do to you. Our intended method for this is deep hypnotic programming, using the deepest trances to bypass your free will and access the most receptive parts of your brain. To fill your subconscious mind with layer upon layer of hypnotic commands it must obey, erase knowledge of how to behave as you do now, and replace it with dozens of rules of behaviour which your deep mind must obey, far beyond the reach of your conscious mind. In effect, this will be like trapping your mind in the body of a robot, one that is programmed to act and feel like a slave, whether you like it or not. Your choices will be limited by your programming. Do you prefer to wear the red or the black stripper heels with that latex micro-dress for example. How does that make you feel?”

Lisa had listened with rapt attention, and was now struggling not to squirm in her seat given how horny the description had been. “Can you really do that to someone?” she asked.

“We think so. It will help doing it to someone who is turned on by the prospect, because subconsciously part of them wants this. Its why we put out an advert rather then just picking someone we liked the look of as we have in the past. I can see you are turned on by the prospect, and you are not unattractive. We will of course be making modifications to your body to get you closer to our liking.”

“Oh, do you mean like plastic surgery? No, I um don’t want anything like that..”

“Oh my poor sweet girl. You still think you have a choice don’t you? I bet you even think you will be getting a salary don’t you? Once we have completed your programming, I will give you a contract to sign which will stipulate that you will work for us 24/7 in any capacity we require for an indefinite period in return for nothing but room and board. Then I will tell you to sign it. And you will. I will tell you to go to our pet plastic surgeon and ask him to make you beautiful. And you will. With a smile on your face. However much you may be fighting it inside.”

“I think i’’ve made a mistake” lisa stammered getting to her feet. “I need to leave”

“Yes I am afraid you have made a mistake Lisa, letting your pussy do your thinking for you, but its far too late to do anything about it now, and you certainly wont be leaving. It is time to start your training. Ah, here is my husband now.”

Lisa felt a sharp sting in her neck as a strong hand covered her mouth from behind. She felt needle pumping something into her veins and then her muscles were melting. The hand was holding her up then as her body went completely limp.

“Hello Lisa,” a deep voice said from a few inches behind her ear “So good to meet you. I’m Kieran. Nothing to worry about with the injection I just gave you by the way. Just a muscle relaxant to make things a little easier. Nothing that is going to effect your mind. Yet.”

“She looks so delicious like that” Lorelei said “so helpless”

He reached out towards Lorelei and snapped his fingers in front of her face. Her body language changed as she came to attention and stared blankly ahead.

“You have been a good girl distracting this one for me but its time for you to continue your own training.”

“Yes Sir” she replied blankly

“I am in the mood for something sleazy tonight. Go and change into something slutty, maybe with animal print and then listen to your “cheap whore” training programme. I will be up once I have Lisa all set up”

“Yes Sir” she said again, this time turning to leave the room and presumably carry out his commands. Kieran lifted Lisa’s limp body easily into his arms and began to carry her through the house. She was completely alert but her body simply wouldn’t respond to her commands.

“Wonderful woman my wife” Kieran started as he walked “of course it has taken a lot of work to make her so. She is very different from the innocent, vanilla girl who first came to my hypnotherapy practise with confidence issues. But that is enough about her. Lets focus on you shall we.”

Kieran carried her down some stairs into what was technically the basement, although it looked more like a corridor in a small hospital. He ducked into a room to the left, inside of which was an array of audiovisual equipment, and a large padded chair in the middle of the room. Something between a dentists chair and a leather armchair with a massage facility. He carefully dropped Lisa into the chair, turned to what looked like a radio station control board & began pushing buttons and moving dials.

Lisa still couldn’t move but her heart and mind were racing. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She was desperately trying to get her body to respond, urging herself to stand up and run past Kieran to the door, but she couldn’t even get her little finger to move half an inch.

He turned back to her with what looked like a high end virtual reality helmet in hand. Walking over to her, he lifted her unresisting head and slipped the equipment over her head, closing the catch around her throat and sending her into compete darkness. She heard muffled noises then, and felt him lift and turn her arm. Then there was an unmistakable needle prick in her arm and she felt something enter her bloodstream. Kierans voice was suddenly in her head through the helmet. “There we go. All set now. I will just wait for the drugs to kick in and you are nice and spacey, and I will start the brainwashing programme.” She felt a surge of arousal despite herself, but she was terrified at the same time. Except as the seconds ticked by she felt more and more spacey and her thinking slowed. It was like she was stoned and only had small window of focus. Except there was nothing to focus on. And then all of a sudden there was something. Her eyes were presented with a swirling screen and Kieran’s voice came through again, only softer and with more bass somehow. “And now it is time for you to sleep. I know it has been a tiring day for you, and you are anxious and scared. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just relax and let go of all that tension. Just letting the relaxation wash over you like a warm bath and sinking down and down in to a comfortable, warm place”

Despite her previous fear she felt herself loosening and nodding along with the voice. She knew if she let herself be taken into a trance she might never wake up as herself again, but she couldn’t help it. As she listened to the voice droning on and as the screen flashed in front of her, she felt herself slip into nothingness.

[officialmoosezilla]

So uhhh I've never really tried to do NNN before, but I DO like denial and I DO like to gamify things (I should post my Geoguessr game here sometime...) so I made dis and yes I do plan to do it for November.

Alt text, especially since I'm no graphic designer and this is literally the most elaborate thing I've ever made lol:

No-Nut Rollvember

Ground Rules:

Default rule for the month is no touch at all. This applies to all erogenous zones! Hygiene, of course, is exempted, but should be all business.

You may earn rolls on the attached D20 roll chart however is a good fit for you- doing things well, chores, overall being good, serving a dom, whatever works for you!

You may earn any number of rolls per day. However, all roll rewards must be redeemed by the time you go to bed that night or they are forfeited unless specified on the chart. Roll modifiers applying to your next roll carry over to the following day. Days added to the month DO stack.

Make whatever modifications to this that you need! For example, if agreements need to be made with partners, if physical needs or life circumstances need accommodating, if you’re like me and want to give all your rolls +5 on your November birthday, if you want to nix the ability to ruin or HFO, go for it! This is for funsies!

Other notes:

Rolling at advantage means you roll twice and use the higher roll.

Rolling at disadvantage means you roll twice and use the lower roll.

A ruin is when you remove all stimulation right at the point of orgasm.

HFO stands for “Hands-Free Orgasm”

Any touching allowed is HANDS ONLY unless otherwise specified.

Roll Chart:

Add 1 day to No-Nut Rollvember

NO touching today. Rewards earned today are forfeit.

NO touching today. Rewards earned today may carry over to tomorrow.

Next roll is at disadvantage

Subtract 3 from your next roll

Next roll is at advantage

Add 3 to your next roll

1 minute of above-waist touching

3 minutes of above-waist touching

5 minutes of above-waist touching

1 minute of touching anywhere

2 minutes of touching anywhere

3 minutes of touching anywhere

1 edge (hands only)

1 minute of touch – toy permitted

2 minutes of touch – toy permitted

3 minutes of touch – toy permitted

1 edge (toy permitted)

3 edges (toy permitted)

One ruin (toy permitted)

One HFO

[skaetlett]

New Commission Promo - Skaetober 2023!

Happy Gay Christmas folks!! I have a fun little commission promo to celebrate the season - a series of Your-Kink-Here commissions based on fearplay, monster-fucking, and even some far darker kinks I've yet to experiment with~ I originally planned to post this on Friday the 13th, but some stuff was going on so I postponed it. I'll be keeping these slots open until November 18, and I hope to promise y'all a 3-month turnaround, but I'll let you know if it'll be longer than that.

Specifics:

-$150-500 words per story based on length, content added, or related kinks -My usual limits apply (except for gore/snuff, Danganronpa has fucked me up lmao) -3,000-7,000 words per story (willing to go higher or lower if need be)

Please feel free to DM me or email ( skaetlett (at) gmail (dot) com ) if you're interested. Excited to do some more scary stuff ;)

If you want any of these slots, or want a commission otherwise, please let me know; I'm a bit short on rent again sadly so I would love to write some stuff for y'all xo (I also accept tips and whatnot but there's never any pressure for that!)

[kallidora-rho]

True Renaming

A lesbian witch makes a mistake and accidentally summons an incubus instead of a succubus... but decides that she can fix "him" with just a few tweaks to the demon's true name

This force-feminization story was written for my patrons, based on the results of one of the polls I regularly run on Patreon!

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!   For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get   immediate, early access to everything I write - along with exclusive stories and the ability to vote on what I write next. Your support helps  me keep writing and is greatly appreciated   <3

---

Ardat, incubus, took a moment to stretch as the brimstone smoke cleared, savoring every little sensation that came with being incarnated in a physical body - the cool air, the sound of his own heartbeat, the little strains of exertion as he experimentally lifted his arms. It had been too long. Far too long. Ardat had existed for eons, but summonings were becoming rarer and rarer. Now, finally, he was free to roam and corrupt the Earth once more.

Well, not free. Not yet. He had been summoned into a magic circle; a ring of symbols and salt that kept him bound to the spot. But that was merely a minor inconvenience. All Ardat needed to do was convince his summoner to lower their guard a little, and he had plenty of experience with that.

He was, after all, a sex demon.

Now that the smoke had almost cleared, he could just about see them. Ardat stroked his goatee, attended to his short, tufted, black hair, and plastered a winning, charismatic smile on his perfectly formed face. He struggled to keep it there when he noticed the expression his summoner was wearing.

Overwhelming frustration and disappointment.

That was a surprise. Ardat had been greeted in many ways - with awe, lust, shock, self-righteous contempt. But who would be disappointed with a sex demon they’d bound to their will and summoned from the bowels of hell itself?

A woman, for one. A goth, for another. The look of utter, icy disdain on her face looked like it was fixed there permanently, accentuated by her jet-black lipstick and thick, immaculate eyeliner. She had long, silky, black hair - plainly dyed - with layers of deep blue visible underneath, and her clothing was all fishnets, lace, and asymmetrical, flowing folds of black cloth. Her look was - in Ardat’s opinion - a little tacky, but she undeniably carried it off well, and her figure was on the softer, rounded, better-endowed side. Aradat certainly liked that. More for him to enjoy.

“Master,” Ardat said, his voice a low purr. He offered a low, theatrical bow. “Might I have the pleasure of your name? All the better to serve you, of course. Although I must confess a slight, ulterior motive. I desire to confirm my suspicion that your name is just as lovely as you are.”

It was a good line, and one that had made many would-be witches blush throughout history. So, Ardat had been hoping for a better response than an angry, disgusted: “Tch.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Lenora,” she said, with an air of clear reluctance. “I guess.”

“Have… I done something to offend you, master?” Ardat asked cautiously.

Lenora groaned and made a gesture like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re an incubus.”

“Of course.” Ardat took a moment to refresh his grin. “I am Ardat of the Second Circle. I am accomplished in pleasures far beyond the average mortal ken - and I am at your disposal, body and soul.”

Lenora simply rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it. I’m a lesbian.”

Ardat’s smile immediately faltered. “Then… if I may ask… why did you-“

“Because you were meant to be a succubus!” the witch exploded. “I wanted to get my mind blown, and I found an old grimoire talking about this ancient sex demon. ‘Ardat of Ur’. A succubus! And now I get… you.”

“Ah,” Ardat said awkwardly. “Well, gender and grammar in ancient proto-Sumerian can be a little tricky.”

Lenora glared daggers at him. “Now what am I supposed to do?”

“Master, I’m sure you know that labels are just words,” Ardat attempted, making his voice a thrilling, husky growl and arching his back to present his bare, sculpted chest to the witch. “Whatever you may consider yourself, why not try allowing me to please you? I’m sure I could find a way to change your feelings. Everyone’s a little flexible, under the right circumstances. Maybe you just haven’t found the right man.”

From the look on her face, he immediately knew he’d chosen the wrong tactic. “Gross,” Lenora spat, even more disgustedly. “Try that again, and I’ll banish you before you can blink.”

“Wait!” Ardat said hurriedly. “Don’t send me back! Not when I… when I have so much to offer you, that is.” He tried to sound simpering and pleasing; maybe she’d like that more. “I could easily help you to summon a demon a little more fitting for your tastes. Now, if you’ll just let me out of this magic circle, I’ll-“

Lenora snorted a laugh. “Nice try. But no. Part of the reason I’m so pissed is that, as you well know, I can’t attempt this ritual again until the next lunar-venusian conjunction. Which is also the reason I can’t afford to send you back to Hell.”

Hearing that gave Ardat the twinge of hope he needed. “Then, surely there must be some service I can perform for you, master,” he purred. “Simply name your heart’s desire, and I will happily provide - for the right price, of course.”

“I don’t think-“ Lenora abruptly broke off, and then started thoughtfully at Ardat. Hope swelled in his demonic chest. “Actually,” she began thoughtfully, “maybe there is something I can do with you.”

“Yes?” Ardat asked, cautiously optimistic.

“I do have you here, even if you’re not quite right,” Lenora mused, pacing across the room. “And I do still have an itch I could do with scratching.”

Ardat let out a filthy laugh. “I’d be more than happy to assist, master,” he purred. “I knew you would prove to be open-minded.”

Lenora threw him a dangerous look, but it faded from her face almost immediately, replaced by a wicked, satisfied smirk. Somehow, that worried Ardat much, much more than her anger.

“Open-minded? No,” Lenora said. “I’m just going to fix you.”

“F-fix?” Ardat’s worry was growing.

“Fix,” Lenora confirmed, grinning. “Succubus, incubus, how different can they really be? Anyway, that whole thing is way too binary to be real. I’m sure it can’t be so hard to turn one into the other.”

“Turn into-“ Ardat let out a nervous, incredulous laugh. “Very funny, master.”

“Oh, I’m not joking.” Lenora’s grin was steadily taking on a crooked, malevolent quality. “I’m a witch. A damn good one. You wouldn’t believe what I can turn people into.”

“That’s not the problem,” Ardat explained, sighing. “Demons aren’t like people. Who we are - our bodies, our personalities, our genders - aren’t, for want of a better word, malleable. They are unchanging; ontologically fixed to specific lingua-symbolic entities - better known by your kind as our ‘true names’.”

It was a little surprising that a witch capable of summoning a demon didn’t know that much, but Ardat wanted to make sure to nip this absurd notion in the bud. He needed to guide Lenora towards something he could truly tempt her with.

“Your true names, huh?” Lenora laughed and reached for an old, leather-bound book resting on a nearby table. “Like, for example… this?”

She flipped it open to a bookmarked page and held it up for Ardat to see. It sent a cold shiver down his spine. His true name was written in the pages.

Most people wouldn’t have recognized it as such, or as a name at all. It wasn’t in words - English words least of all. Instead, it was a complex, intricately-interwoven symbol, expanding to fill an entire page of a huge grimoire with headache-inducing artistic and geometric figures. And yet, it was his name. ‘Ardat’ was the corresponding vocalization, although, from a demon’s perspective, it was crude to the point of ugliness in how little information it truly conveyed. The symbol on the page in Lenora’s book told and defined everything about the incubus, from beginning to end.

Which was very, very bad.

Knowledge was power, both figuratively and literally. It didn’t mean Lenora could pull off the kind of insane transformation she seemed to be set on, but knowing Ardat’s true name meant there was plenty she was capable of. He was going to have to tread extremely carefully.

“Where did you get that?” Ardat hissed.

“It’s from ancient Sumeria,” Lenora answered, throwing him a smug, nasty look. “You see, my ancient proto-Sumerian is actually fucking great. I just misinterpreted one little part of your true name. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. I had to pay a pretty penny for this grimoire, though. Time to see if it’ll all be worth it.”

“That…” Ardat sighed, exasperated. “You still can’t turn me into… well, into anything! That isn’t how this works. True names might be written in ink, but I can assure you, they’re metaphorically set in stone. There are only a handful of artifacts in existence with the power to change them.”

“C’mon.” Lenora started giggling. “You can’t just set me up like that twice in a row.”

Ardat’s heart sank. “S-surely you don’t-“

This time, she reached for a small, wood-carved box and opened it. Inside was a candle that looked ordinary at first, but when Lenora lit it with a well-used lighter, the wax started to glow with an unnatural, purple phosphorescence.

“An ur-candle,” Ardat whispered reverently.

Fuck.

“Let’s take it for a spin, shall we?” Lenora said. She set the grimoire bearing Ardat’s true name down on the table and lifted the ur-candle menacingly towards it.

“Wait!” Ardat called out in alarm. He’d only heard whispers about what was about to happen, but those alone were enough to terrify him. But he fell silent once Lenora tipped the candle, and allowed a little of its wax to drip onto his true name.

Ardat froze. He could feel something; an unnameable sensation that held him in its grip and made his head feel like it was going to split open. It was as if something was touching his very soul, especially when Lenora picked up an iron stylus and used it like a pen to move the molten wax around on the page. Disconcertingly, the ink underneath it, dried for thousands of years, started to bubble up and move with it. And just like that, his reality was rewritten.

It only took hold slowly, with the first changes beginning after the wax on the grimoire’s pages had already set, but its pace quickened rapidly after Lenora held up the book for Ardat to inspect. His true name, the sigil that was the incubus’s very being, was different now. The changes were slight and subtle, and to most people they would have meant nothing. But to Ardat, it was everything.

Only, that was no longer his name. The sigil now sounded out as something different. It would be-

“Aridat,” Lenora pronounced, in a strong, clear, commanding voice. “Your name is Aridat.”

Aridat’s head sheared, and they shook their head in futile denial. “N-no.”

“Your name is Aridat,” Lenora insisted.

“My name,” Aridat grunted through gritted teeth, straining to hold on to at least this, to at least the word, “is Ard… Ar… Ari…”

“Your name,” Lenora repeated patiently, “is Aridat.”

“My name is Ari… dat,” Aridat found themself agreeing, a pained look on their face. “No, it’s… my name is Aridat… Ard… Aridat.”

The new sound was such a small thing, like a breath, and that made it so poisonously easy for it to slip in between the consonants, making its presence felt only in how much softer their name suddenly sounded as it left the incubus’s lips.

“Aridat,” Lenora nodded. The grin on her face was now one of lurid, sadistic fascination. “Good.”

“My name is… Aridat?” Aridat was losing their conviction. It was hard to remain defiant when reality itself had turned against them. They could feel an immense pull toward acceptance like a lead weight on their shoulders.

“Aridat,” Lenora repeated again. The witch tilted her head, amused. “You’re even starting to look like an Aridat.”

Her comment drew attention to something Aridat had been trying to convince themself wasn’t real: the way their body suddenly seemed just as molten and pliable as the wax of the ur-candle, ready to be changed, reshaped, remolded. The sensation was almost imperciptible, though. So subtle it was almost like nothing was changing at all. Aridat had to force themself to truly notice what was happening to them. Their face was softening and rounding out, and their goatee fell from their face in wisps as it disintegrated into nothing. Aridat’s hair had grown inches in seconds, and their body lost its overbearingly masculine silhouette as their shoulders narrowed and their hips widened. They even became shorter.

Ardat had been manly. Strong. A straight woman’s fantasy brought to life. Aridat, it turned out, was androgynous. Even elfin.

It just went with the name, somehow.

“My name… is Aridat,” they said slowly. This time, Aridat’s voice was heavy with acceptance. It felt good to embrace it, just like it felt good to breathe after forcing yourself to stay underwater.

Their name was Aridat. It just was. And they were a them, apparently.

“Fuck,” Lenora breathed. “That was so hot.”

Aridat, still recovering from having their identity rewritten on a spiritual level, was shaking with rage. Reality had changed but, crucially, history hadn’t. They still remembered what they’d lost. They’d been Ardat. They’d been manly and strong. Now, just looking down at their body was accompanied by a hot lick of bitter humiliation. And it was all because of this accursed witch. If not for the magic circle marked on the ground, Aridat would have had their hands around her throat.

“Aridat,” Lenora said, “how do you feel?”

The worst part, the very worst, was the way their new name being called felt. It made their ears prick up and instinctively caught their attention. Aridat was their name now, and like it or not, they answered to it.

“I… feel…” Aridat replied slowly. How did they feel? It was impossible to say. Their head was a swirling mass of contradictions. Memories that didn’t match reality. Old instincts that didn’t match their new personality, which seemed somehow more passive. More pliant. “I… don’t know.”

“That makes sense.” Lenora nodded thoughtfully. “It looked wild. I’m sure feeling it is even crazier, even though I was trying not to scramble you too badly. Although…” She looked Aridat up and down pointedly. “Maybe I wasn’t ambitious enough.”

Hearing that made Aridat’s blood run cold. “W-what?”

“Don’t get me wrong!” Lenora held up her hands in mock sincerity. “You look great, really. Normally I wouldn’t be so picky. I can roll with androgynous. But tonight I was really looking for something more on the ‘succubus’ end of the spectrum.”

“Fuck you,” Aridat hissed.

“I’m sorry!” Lenora’s grin was already breaking through her face. “This isn’t an exact science, you know. But now that I’ve tested it out, I think it’s safe to say that we can push this just a little bit further.”

“Wait!” Aridat begged as she lifted up the ur-candle again. They couldn’t let her change them any further. This was bad enough, but at least their old identity, their old name, was still within sight. “Stop, you can’t-“

Lenora ignored them, and tipped more enchanted wax onto their true name.

Aridat immediately felt it again; that terrifying sense of displacement as their true name began to flow like fresh ink. It was ice-cold and shockingly intimate, and made them uncomfortable aware of all the ways they were being changed. It made them feel thin; so thin that they’d fold like paper under their own weight.

The sensation doubled when Lenora took her pen to the molten wax. This time she was more daring and less careful, streaking the wax and ink across the page in huge strokes. Aridat felt each one in their soul, even as they felt that name, newly-given, already beginning to slip away.

Once she was done, Lenora looked up. She was clearly proud of her penmanship, and looked at the incubus thoughtfully.

“Your name,” she said, in that slow, deliberate way, “is Aridata.”

Aridata’s heart skipped a beat. “C-c’mon,” she whined. “It’s n-not.”

“Your name,” Lenora said again, more firmly, “is Aridata.”

As futile as it might have been, Aridata couldn’t help but try to fight it. “My name,” she struggled. “Is… Ar… Aridat.”

Even that, though, was surrender, and they both knew it. Aridata still remembered the name ‘Ardat’, but she couldn’t bring herself to claim it. Not anymore. It wouldn’t feel right. She wouldn’t sound sure enough. But hearing her insist she was ‘Aridat’ now brought a maddening smile to Lenora’s face and made the demon feel weak.

And the way it came out of her mouth was just as bad. ‘Aridat’, but with a new openness at the end; a hint, a wisp, a breath of something yet to be sounded out.

“Your name is Aridata,” Lenora insisted simply.

Her words rippled over Aridata, making her shiver with their rhythm. “My name is Ari… Aridat… a… Ari…”

She was on the brink. Both of them knew it.

“Your name is Aridata.”

“My name… my name is… A-Aridata.”

As before, it was an incredible relief to say it. Aridata. That was her name. A-ri-da-ta. It sounded so different now. So light. That treasonous little ‘a’ appended to it, a whole syllable of femininity, opened up the entire name, making the harder consonants before it a mere prelude.

Aridata. It was a girl’s name.

Aridata knew what that must mean. She reached up and touched her face, and found it different. It was her face, and it wasn’t. It wasn’t changing; an old, defunct reality was simply washing away, revealing a newer reality that might always have been there. Aridata’s face was softer now. Less angular. She had wider eyes, petite brows, and a far less pronounced jawline. But that was absolutely nothing compared to what was happening to the rest of her body. Suddenly, Aridata had wide hips and curved thighs and, most distractingly of all, the distinct swell of breasts on her chest.

“Wow,” Lenora commented, wolf-whistling. “Now that’s more like it.”

“Fuck. You!” Aridata spat, and was shocked at how girlish her voice sounded. She couldn’t manage the same level of vitriol and spite as she had earlier.

“Maybe, soon.” Lenora giggled. “You know, that outfit suits you much better now.”

Aridata looked down at herself and almost choked. She was wearing the same clothing as before - black, tight-fitting, leather pants, and nothing else - but with her appearance it felt very different. She had gone from suave seducer to something much more butch, or perhaps tomboyish. Her hair, now mid-length, fit with that too. The whole thing felt like a pointed mockery, and that should have made Aridata violently angry.

Instead, it made her blush.

It was something about her chest. Having breasts, even small ones, made being topless feel very, very different. It made Aridata feel exposed; she was suddenly conscious of the air on her skin, and even more conscious of Lenora’s gaze on her body. Everything about it was undignified. Even succubi preferred tempting, alluring, suggestive clothes to simply going topless! Instinctively, Aridata moved to cover herself and started looking around for a stray item of clothing she could use. Only the look of mirth in Lenora’s eyes stopped her.

What was she doing? Aridata wasn’t some kind of blushing maiden. She was… a man? That didn’t sound right, even in her own head. But she knew she had to try and keep hold of that version of reality.

“What’s the matter?” Lenora teased. “You weren’t shy like this before. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Hey!” Aridata huffed. “That’s not-“

She broke off. She’d huffed. Since when did she huff? That wasn’t like her at all. Except it was now. Even her mannerisms were suspect. The things Lenora could do with her candle and Aridata’s true name went far beyond the superficial. Her mannerisms, her personality, her memories - all of them could be rewritten with no more than a stroke of a pen.

“Don’t worry,” Lenora said mockingly. “I enjoy you being more ladylike.”

“I’m. Not.” Aridata had to fight to keep her voice deep and even. “I-I’m a man.”

Lenora just looked at him pityingly. They both knew how false it sounded. Aridata’s voice was too high, too light, and the inner convictions of her nature were telling her otherwise, robbing her words of their conviction.

“Uh-huh,” Lenora replied, deadpan. “And who’s gonna believe that?”

“I…” Aridata spluttered. “I…”

“Then again,” Lenora added, making no attempt to hide her mockery. “Maybe you have a point. This look is good, but it’s not really what I was after. It’s more ‘female incubus’ than ‘succubus’, if that makes any sense.”

Aridata’s blood ran cold yet again as she realized what Lenora was hinting at. “N-no, wait!”

She wasn’t expecting Lenora to tilt her head and look thoughtfully at her. “OK. I’m waiting.”

“I…”

Aridata found herself speechless. She doubted anything she might say could dissuade Lenora, but there was too much at stake not to try. However, she wasn’t going to beg. She wasn’t. Aridata - Ardat, Ardat, she reminded herself - never begged. She tempted, she offered, she bargained, but she never begged. That just wasn’t how this was supposed to go. So… what could she offer? There was only one answer, however stomach-churning and humiliating.

The former incubus did her best to strike an alluring pose that showed off all her feminine assets. It came to her worryingly naturally, and she was effortlessly able to bend forward, back arched, chest pushed out, hips swaying, and put something approaching a suggestive half-smile on her face.

“I…” Aridata said falteringly. “I could… please you. Like this.”

She just had to hope that would be enough for her lesbian captor. Perhaps it almost was. Lenora had the look of someone flipping a mental coin. Once she made her mind, though, her eyes glinted wickedly, and Aridata knew she’d lost.

“Close,” Lenora conceded. “But I think we can do better.”

Before Aridata could argue, she once again tipped the ur-candle’s wax onto Aridata’s true name.

This time, Lenora didn’t even wait for the wax to settle and congeal before she started speaking. There was eagerness in her eyes, put there by unquestionable arousal.

“Your name,” Lenora announced, “is Aridatya.”

As she spoke she made it so, using her stylus to draw the wax across the grimoire’s page in big, thick strokes, obliterating the reality Aridatya had only just been growing accustomed to and replacing it with another.

“It is not!” Aridatya tried to insist. “My name is… is Ar… Ari… um… Arida…”

It was getting harder and harder to fight it. Her head was a swirling morass of different names, all of them so similar, all of which felt right and all of which felt wrong. But a new one had just appeared, echoing like a gong, sounding more and more right with each passing moment.

“Your name is Aridatya,” Lenora repeated. She sounded so firm, so sure, whilst Aridatya wasn’t sure about anything.

“My name is… Aridatya?” it came out like a question, and so Lenora nodded in agreement.

“Your name is Aridatya.”

Aridatya found herself nodding too. “My name is A-Aridatya.”

She just couldn’t bring herself to say anything else.

“That’s right.” Lenora’s stylus was still moving across the page, etching details in ink and wax, inscribing all the details of Aridatya’s soul.

“Aridatya…” Aridatya said it slowly, testing how the name felt on her tongue. Her name had become so long, so luxurious. That little ‘y’ made it sound even more feminine, and somehow fancy. Perhaps even exotic.

And… that was her, wasn’t it? It seemed to suit her perfectly, even though she would have struggled to say why. Did that mean she was exotic? Fancy? Feminine?

No. No, of course not. Ardat had never been those things, and that should have settled the question. But it didn’t. Ardat wasn’t real. Not anymore. There was just Aridatya.

Aridatya balled her hands into fists and scolded herself. She couldn’t let herself think that way. She was an incubus. A man, as remote as that now seemed. She had to remember that. She had to remember that none of this was right. She had to.

“It’s quite a name,” Lenora remarked, finishing her handiwork with a flourish. “Aridatya. I think Aridatya is very, very confident in her femininity. Don’t you? Aridatya sounds like a real girly girl to me. The kind of succubus who really revels in it.” Her smirk turned crooked once more. “At least, that’s how it looks in my handwriting.”

“W-what?” Aridatya was stunned as she felt changes washing over her. Nothing was more unsettling than feeling her reality alter. The changes themselves kept slipping beneath her notice; rather than experiencing the transformation directly, it was like she was always noticing the way reality had always been.

In this case, that meant noticing that her hair was longer, and that she was now wearing something different - a long, flowing nightgown, tailored to accentuate a body that was far, far more feminine than she remembered. Those were Aridatya clothes, apparently. It meant noticing that her face was slender and lips full, and her eyes adorned with smoky, sultry makeup. But more than that, it meant noticing how she felt.

It meant noticing that she liked it.

“No!” Aridatya cried out, desperate to give voice to her disgust before it fled. “That’s not right! I hate this.”

“You do?” Lenora feigned surprise, but couldn’t hide her amusement. “But you’re so pretty now.”

The heat, the warm glow of praise that Aridatya immediately felt, was dangerous. Preening was instinctive, as was posing pleasingly and shifting her weight from side to side to accentuate her hips. It took precious seconds for Aridatya to catch herself and plaster a scowl over the thin, devilish smile that had come naturally to her face.

“S-shut up,” Aridatya snarled, torn between forced resentment and reflexive pride.

“C’mon,” Lenora wheedled. “Aren’t you everything a succubus is supposed to be?”

That was a potent compliment, poisonous and sinister in how affirming it was. A succubus was supposed to be beautiful, feminine and seductive, and Aridatya felt like all of those things. So it was undeniable, wasn’t it? She was everything a succubus was supposed to be. The only thing telling her was the faint memory of deeply-buried false reality, fading by the moment.

“I’m an incubus,” Aridatya tried to insist. “Not a succubus. An incubus!”

“Aridatya,” Lenora said pityingly, “do you think anyone seeing you now, anyone at all, would believe that?”

The succubus’s cheeks turned crimson. She looked away and cast about for anything she could use as ammunition. There was precious little left, but Aridatya’s thoughts quickly turned to what was between her legs. It had always been the very pride of her manhood.

“Oh, I see.” Lenora giggled. “You’re thinking about that, are you?”

Now, Aridatya paled. Had it been that obvious?

“I was thinking of letting you keep it, you know,” Lenora remarked, lifting the ur-candle again. “But if you’re going to be difficult about it…”

Aridatya truly turned as white as a sheet as she watched one single drop of wax fall onto the page.

Compared to before, it was nothing. Lenora was careful and subtle with her stylus, too. All in all, the change she made didn’t even amount to a single letter. It was an accent at most; a simple change in pronunciation, barely audible. Aridatya was still Aridatya. But it was enough, and after several horrid moments of anticipation, the succubus felt a new reality wash over her.

And it brought with it a cunt between her legs.

Aridatya gasped and whimpered at the sudden, aching loss which drove home just how much dignity and power she’d lost. Her name, her face - those things were precious, yes, but losing a part of her body that was so symbolic and fundamental for an incubus was even more of a violation. With her hips and thighs still shifting to accommodate her new anatomy, Aridatya squeezed her legs together, hoping to feel something solid between them. Instead, she just felt a sharp, shock of pleasure race up her spine from the unfamiliar stimulation to her new, sensitive pussy.

It was humiliating, and worse, the demon couldn’t suppress a low whine of pleasure. Lenora, of course, just laughed at her plight.

“My, my,” the witch commented. “Enjoying yourself already?”

“Shut up!” Aridatya huffed. She was incandescent with shame and rage, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t hide. Couldn’t flee. Couldn’t stop what was happening to her.

“C’mon,” Lenora giggled mockingly. “Don’t you kind of like it?”

Aridatya had to look away because the truth was that, on some level, she did. Somehow, having a cunt instead of a cock just felt right. It made her feel more like herself, perversely; desirable and sexy in all the right ways for a succubus like her. Knowing that she’d been an incubus minutes ago and had a dick seconds ago didn’t help. It made her seethe with rage and burn with humiliation, yes, but it didn’t make having this body feel any less deliciously affirming.

So, instead, the contrasting emotions inside Aridatya - new and old - were forced to curdle and mix together as reality fought for a stable configuration. They became complimentary, mutually-reinforcing. Her humiliation became a pleasure all of its own, sinful and tempting, spiking her arousal even higher. Her anger, directed so singularly at Lenora, twisted and became a very different kind of craving, one that was predatory and carnal.

A succubus’s hunger.

It was a heady, dizzying cocktail of feelings to be struck with, and it made keeping Aridatya’s identity straight harder than ever. Instinct was taking over. It infested her body language, making her pose and preen and smile, directing all of her hellishly tempting appeal straight at Lenora. The witch was clearly amused and enticed in equal measure.

“Wow,” she remarked, cocking an eyebrow. “Maybe that was the magic ticket. Feeling a little more agreeable now?”

“Absolutely,” Aridatya replied, her voice a vicious purr. She was desperate. She couldn’t let this go any further. She needed Lenora to let down her guard.

“Fascinating,” Lenora breathed. For a moment, occult curiosity took over, although the color in her cheeks made it clear her interest was far more than just academic. “I suppose it is the lynchpin of the succubus/incubus distinction - in some schema, at least - so it makes sense it would have rather dramatic ripples.”

“Dramatic,” Aridatya echoed pleasingly. She bent forward, showing off her new assets. Her tits had become impressively large and pert, and it was dawning on her that she could use that. That she knew how to use that. “Hey, so how about that itch you needed scratching?”

“Yeah?” Lenora couldn’t help but stare, Aridatya noticed with pleasure. “You’re interested.”

“Oh, I just can’t wait to sink my teeth into you,” Aridatya cooed. She giggled. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

The plan, of course, was to seduce her, and then, once she released Aridatya from the magical circle, subdue her and force her to undo all the changes she’d made. At least, that was what Aridatya was telling herself. In truth, it was rationalization as much as anything else. Beneath it all was a simple, heartbeat-drum of need and desire, driving her towards Lenora’s warmth.

"Wow,” Lenora breathed. She wasn’t so quick-witted now. Aridatya could tell she was succumbing to her own desires, now that her summoned demon was in a form far, far more agreeable to her tastes. “But… sink your teeth into me? That sounds a little…”

“C’mon.” Aridatya tried to affect a high-pitched, feminine voice. It came effortlessly, and she was as dismayed at that as she was pleased with her success. “You can trust me. I just want what you made me want.”

Lenora almost went for it. Almost. But in the end, she pulled back and shook her head. “I wish. This version of you is pretty great, if I do say so myself. But… I can tell this isn’t going to be a good idea.”

“N-no.” Aridatya’s smile faltered.

“Perhaps I’ve been going about this the wrong way,” Lenora mused. “It’s not enough to make you a succubus. Not anymore. You’ll still remember what I did, at least a little, and you’ll still want revenge. I need to address that.”

“My… memories?” Aridatya was aghast. How could she fight that?

But Lenora shook her head. “No. Something deeper: your past.” She lifted the ur-candle and toyed with it in her hand, an egomaniacal smile playing across her face. “A true name is such a potent thing. It contains everything about you. Even your very history. Change that, and there’s nothing to remember.”

“Wait!” Aridatya called out, as Lenora started to tip the candle, but she already knew that wouldn’t stop her. Her next word tasted like bitter tears. “P-please!”

She didn’t beg. For all that had changed, that remained true. But this was her limit. This was the end. And so, Aridatya begged.

It didn’t matter.

This time, the way Lenora altered her true name was anything but subtle, even if it was artful. Using her stylus, she worked wax and ink all over the grimoire’s page, inscribing a fresh pattern that seemed to make the entire sigil shift into a bold new configuration.

“And,” Lenora murmured as she worked. “Why not push a few other things a little further, too?”

The sight made the succubus’s head throb, especially when Lenora looked up at her and said:

“Your name is Arideniya.”

“My name is… is Arideniya.”

This time, Aridenya didn’t bother to fight it. She just let her new reality wash over her, and accepted whatever her new self turned out to be.

It felt good, as it turned out. Arideniya couldn’t even perceive the changes as they occurred. Each one etched itself into her memory and her past, as if things had always been that way. Aridenya was left completely, blissfully ignorant of the fact that once, maybe, for a different version of herself, things had been very, very different.

Her tits had always been this huge. Her cunt had always dripped enticing wetness down her thighs when she was turned on and hungry. She’d always been a succubus, a woman, an embodiment of female sexuality, ready to feast on any mortal who came within reach. And when they were around her, they wanted to be feasted on so very, very much.

Arideniya didn’t just feel feminine. She felt powerful, and she took to her power like it was second nature. She stood tall, practically filling the room from floor to ceiling. Her horns were a crown upon her head, and her clothing was royal robes, no less revealing and suggestive for their grandeur. As the wax dried, Arideniya looked down at Lenora like a queen looking down at someone presenting themselves as tribute.

“Master,” the succubus purred, her tone anything but submissive. “Allow me to show you true pleasure.”

Lenora started to sweat from sheer temptation. Her magic circle offered scant protection against the raw, mind-bending power of Arideniya’s presence. She was overwhelming in every sense. She was any mortal’s fantasy given form, and Lenora was far from immune.

“W-what,” the witch struggled to say. She was drooling, but her mouth sounded painfully dry. “This isn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, yes, you did,” Arideniya countered. “This is exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you summoned. I’m all your handiwork, Master. It’s time to enjoy me. Time to take down this silly little circle.”

Lenora twitched abruptly, like she was struggling not to obey. Temptation was overriding her reason. Arideniya’s wicked grin widened. She had no particular animosity towards this mortal - but she needed to feed, and she liked to drink deep.

“I don’t u-understand how…” Lenora stuttered, flustered. She took a single step towards Arideniya, taking her perilously close to the magical circle’s boundary, before something seemed to click in her head. “Oh. Oh! I know what I did wrong.”

She stepped back, and hefted the objects in her hand - a leather-bound grimoire and a strange-looking candle. Arideniya’s eyes flew wide as she noticed it. The object seemed to trigger a memory from another life.

“Is that a-“ was all she managed to say before Lenora once again tipped the candle wax all over the grimoire.

This time, Lenora wasn’t artful or sparing. She poured as much wax as she could, obliterating almost all of the succubus’s true name in a single gesture. The succubus was rooted to the spot as a strange, unearthly sensation swept through her, making her mind flash white and robbing her of all sense of self and purpose. The sensation only grew stronger when Lenora started writing with her stylus in wax and ink, replacing some of what had been blotted out and altering what remained.

“It was obvious, really,” Lenora murmured as she worked. “I was too focused on what I wanted to change. Lost sight of the big picture. I was adding, each and every time. More letters, more sounds, more changes stacked on top of changes. I made a name that was impressive. Magnificent. Powerful.” She grinned. “But I think this will do the job just fine instead.”

The succubus standing before her just stared, dumbfounded, struggling to comprehend the meaning of her words.

“Your name,” Lenora told her, slowly and deliberately, “is Aria.”

“My name…” Aria echoed, “is… Aria!”

She brightened as she said it. It felt so right, and the rightness of it made her giggle a pretty, air-headed giggle. Aria licked her lips and arched her back, and reached up to jiggle her own, massive tits experimentally. Doing that made her giggle even harder.

“Maaaaster,” she drawled, pouting. “Don’t you wanna, like, fuck me?”

Lenora laughed. “No need to worry about hidden agendas now, I think,” she said. “So - time to make a contract?”

“A contract?” Aria snorted. “That stuff is soooo boring. Um… let’s see… I’ll give you whatever you want if you’ll, like, make me feel good?”

“Deal,” Lenora announced. She stepped forwards and used the tip of her shoe to erase the boundary of the magical circle on the ground. As soon as it was broken, Aria bounced on her, kissing and squeezing and groping with overeager lust.

Lenora laughed, and her laughter soon turned to moans. It was time to get that itch scratched.

---

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