mid 20s, he/him. Smut writer looking for prompts to fill. DMs are open for story ideas, even more so if you send a gif or photo or post! I'm bi, but unavailable and uninterested.
HEY, IF YOU'RE BELOW THE AGE OF 18, GET OFF MY BLOG PLEASE.
Demographic data:
AMAB, and I use he/him pronouns, but like, also mb I'm not 100% cis? Who knows!
Mid-20s
Somewhere in the U.S.
Bisexual, but like, frustrated that so many Men seem to struggle with responsible human interaction, especially online.
Switch (and "versatile!")
What I do:
- I write smutty short stories, usually as captions on posts that inspire me.
- I always ask OP for permission before captioning their content, unless OP is deactivated.
- If I somehow add a caption to something you own without your approval (OR) you just don't like it, DM me and I'll take it down right away.
Where to find more of my content
Here's a link to my LitErotica
More deets below the cut!
What you'll find here:
This blog is meant to be a platform for nsft short stories, erotic writing prompt-fills, and all other things smut. It might end up being more, who knows.
Kink list is pretty extensive, but I've got at least some experience writing about the following general subjects, and will pretty much always be interested in prompts about them.
BDSM
Gentle femdom
Edging
Forced orgasms
Monsterfucker debauchery and fantasy setting stuff
DubCon/NonCon
Same goes for following super niche stuff (you can improve this list by helping to expand it!)
Permanent bondage
Petrification (via gorgon!)
Sex magic
In general, "bad end" scenarios
Poetic justice, but like, sexy
Bimboification, but like, mostly for men? Idk man a lot of my kinks involve objectification of SOMEbody involved.
Lots and lots of folks asking for sexy forcefem content lately. I'm cool w writing that especially if you're trans or like, gender nonconforming in some way IRL.
I'm not interested in writing about any of the following. Pls don't send prompts or content about them.
Gore
Toilet/vomit/fart stuff
Feederism/fat shaming or anyth like that
Pedo shit (block this tag on sight)
Bestiality (monsters can consent and aren't real. Neither is true of animals)
Incest (DDLG kink is fine, I'm not super into it but will try anyth once)
I'm not terribly interested in writing about established characters, but I'll think about it if I know the character already and the prompt is good enough.
Again, always love taking suggestions! Hmu to do that!
Content warnings: monsterfucking (devils/demons,) mind control-based noncon, physically overpowering-based noncon, revenge plot, magic, sadism, some chastity, mindbreak mentioned in passing, permanent bondage. Some exhibitionism, implied brat-taming and freeuse.
(~2,200 words.)
Conjured creatures are infinitely safer than those summoned through portals, a respected witchcraft mentor had once told Morgan. Conjured beings, upon the distraction of their creator, would simply dissipate back into the magical weave of the world that their creators called upon to spring them, however briefly, into existence.
Summoned beings, however, were another story altogether. Infinitely more powerful than anything most witches could call into existence themselves, the spirits, fae and fiends of other realms were summoned by simultaneously opening a doorway to their world, and then pulling them through it, overcoming the being’s willpower with one’s own.
With the right preparation, that battle of minds was about as easy as conjuring a creature, if not easier. But if a witch lost her concentration on the spell calling such a creature from beyond, it remained quite present on her plane of existence. The only magic she’d lose would be the spell controlling the being’s willpower: a change that would almost universally invite the ire of the summoned creature.
Such trivial concerns were quite beyond Morgan, however, now in possession of a legendary magic item: the Amulet of Perfect Concentration.
Content warnings: monsterfucking (devils/demons,) mind control-based noncon, physically overpowering-based noncon, revenge plot, magic, sadism, some chastity, mindbreak mentioned in passing, permanent bondage. Some exhibitionism, implied brat-taming and freeuse.
(~2,200 words.)
Conjured creatures are infinitely safer than those summoned through portals, a respected witchcraft mentor had once told Morgan. Conjured beings, upon the distraction of their creator, would simply dissipate back into the magical weave of the world that their creators called upon to spring them, however briefly, into existence.
Summoned beings, however, were another story altogether. Infinitely more powerful than anything most witches could call into existence themselves, the spirits, fae and fiends of other realms were summoned by simultaneously opening a doorway to their world, and then pulling them through it, overcoming the being's willpower with one's own.
With the right preparation, that battle of minds was about as easy as conjuring a creature, if not easier. But if a witch lost her concentration on the spell calling such a creature from beyond, it remained quite present on her plane of existence. The only magic she'd lose would be the spell controlling the being's willpower: a change that would almost universally invite the ire of the summoned creature.
Such trivial concerns were quite beyond Morgan, however, now in possession of a legendary magic item: the Amulet of Perfect Concentration.
Morgan was a reasonably talented spellcaster, to be sure, but the amulet was far beyond any typical equipment for a witch of her caliber. She'd won it in an incredibly high-risk game of chance, wagering lifelong servitude against an arrogant and intoxicated princess.
And ever since that moment some four years ago, Morgan had been unstoppable.
With the magic ensuring she'd never drop concentration on her spells, she could string together several at once. She summoned an entire platoon of two dozen subservient shapeshifter fiends from the fiery wastes of hell itself. The devils were once divine punishers of obscenity and lust, now bent to her every command and passing whim.
They were frankly overkill for the witch's purposes, using the beings to complete a handful of well-paying quests and rapidly gaining the favor of the royal court, where she now had a comfortable role as the highest court mage, a rank just above that of Harmony Fairweather, the very same bratty little princess she'd won the artifact from.
But Morgan appreciated the flare of such powerful beings on her estate and at her sides on the court. More than that, they were quite possibly the most powerful summoned creatures ever called by a witch: most were terrified of the consequences of calling fiends with the ability to cast their own spells, for fear of repercussions if and when they lost control. But with the infallible amulet around her neck, Morgan had managed to bind an Infernal Grand Sorcerer, a being capable of immensely more powerful magic than her mortal form could channel with several lifetimes of practice.
Plus, the monsters made for excellent eye candy, their red-tinged skin wrapped tightly over a chiseled physique. Most were twice her size, and their massive hands could induce searing pain or mind-melting pleasure with a single touch.
Morgan had even experimented with those delightful powers a bit, commanding their use on would-be challengers to her position, or even the occasional trespasser on her newfound estate on the outskirts of the queen's city.
One unfortunate pilferer, caught with some nameless golden artifact just a few steps from an open window, had been hauled into the witch's wine cellar, where she commanded the fiends gripping his arms use their magic to make him cum continuously 'til he fell unconscious, before jolting him awake with supernatural pain, then repeating the process.
She'd spent the evening watching in sadistic glee as the man climaxed far beyond the brink of sanity, all while she boldly rode the cock of a third fiend, as the thief and the rest of her hellspawned entourage could do nothing but watch.
Morgan eventually learned that her two dozen summoned creatures could not cum without the permission of a more powerful fiend, or in her case, their summoner. It made sense, honestly: an eternity in hell's lewdest depths - surrounded by others punished for their rampant sexual urges - would hardly be a punishment if anyone could climax of their own accord.
The witch liked to occasionally test the creatures' stamina, inviting over attractive noblewomen to try their luck on the fiends' supernaturally satisfying shafts in exchange for discrete political favors. Morgan never told the riled up royalty that her servants would remain aroused for days or even weeks after such sessions, instead choosing to quietly enjoy their visible erections and subtle aura of sexual frustration.
More recently, Morgan had found joy in using the supernatural creatures to orchestrate a long-running cruel prank on Harmony Fairweather.
The witch crafted a long-lasting hex to seal the princess' lips whenever she tried to solicit a sexual partner, and another to stop her from verbally accepting the sexual advances of others. Her personal Infernal Grand Mage, meanwhile, she compelled to bestow a curse of mental blockage, preventing Fairweather from taking any action to masturbate, or otherwise sexually relieve herself.
Morgan had watched with glee over the last few weeks, as the princess seated next to her gradually wore more and more suggestive outfits: deeper Vs, shorter skirts, tighter fits, all in an effort to wordlessly attract suitors who might finally relieve her lust. The witch would occasionally cast subtle spells to dial up the poor girl's arousal when Morgan was sure nobody was looking, silently reveling as the woman next to her blushed and breathed heavily in her seat.
This went on for a month or two before rumors started to circulate: allegations that Harmony Fairweather would find any excuse to grind up against a man in any remotely crowded room, or that she'd made a habit of bending over in front of royal guards, offering them generous views as she also got in the habit of foregoing any undergarments.
Scandalous whispers claimed the princess had been spotted at a high-end brothel, where she'd wordlessly paid a massive sum of gold to be pleasured by every available man and woman, then paid even more for their silence after the fact. Another tale said the princess had recently stripped herself of all clothes at a personal dinner with another on the court, before kneeling in front of the guest with her mouth open and her eyes desperate - no two accounts agreed on who the lucky young noble or noblewoman might have been.
Finally, at a royal ball, Harmony apparently decided she'd had enough.
Morgan had already downed a few glasses of wine. The alcohol would typically threaten a witch's concentration on her spells, but she hadn't had to worry about that in years.
The intoxication did cost her some control of her face, however, and she couldn't quite stop a sadistic grin from crossing her face as a particularly flushed looking Harmony Fairweather approached her and asked, in the meekest of whispers,
"Mage Morgan, I need you to break my curse."
"Oh? Well I'd be happy to help any fellow royal my dear," the witch replied, just loud enough to attract attention from any number of near-standing well-dressed aristocrats at the function. "What's this about a curse, then?"
Harmony blushed even harder. Her next words came through gritted teeth.
"Mage Morgan. I know you're behind this," she said with candor quite intolerable to a higher member of the court. "I won't be humiliated anymore. You can keep your fucking amulet. Just let me-"
Her mouth sealed itself shut before the princess could ask Morgan to let her cum. The witch failed to stifle a brief, breathy chuckle.
"End this curse," the princess tried once more. "Let me go back to the way I was. Let me live my life, and I won't do you any harm. Continue as you have, and suffer the ire of House Fairweather."
A score of partygoers now watched the conversation with tension in their spines. Harmony's approach was quite unheard of: speaking to someone of Morgan's status this way while holding court would all but guarantee a reprimand from the queen herself.
Morgan regained her composure quickly, however, before replying through smiling lips, coated evenly in cherry-red lipstick.
"No."
The word hung in the air for a moment as Harmony stared the witch down, her eyes seething as they locked with Morgan's relaxed gaze.
And then, in a blur of motion, the princess struck the Royal Mage on the cheek with a deafening *SLAP*
The entire room fell silent as all heads turned toward the provocation. Fairweather's words certainly pushed the limits of royal niceties. Physical aggression, however, shattered all sense of decorum.
All Morgan could do for a moment was stare in shock at this brat's utter arrogance. She would be punished for this insolence.
Stammering for a beat, the witch finally gathered her wits.
"G-Guards! Seize her!" Morgan said as she turned to the awestruck crowd. "House Fairweather can have their princess back when I'm done teacher her some manners!"
Morgan paused. She had expected the crowd to react as she ordered the seizing and sadistic punishment of a fellow royal, even after such a display. But they all stared, not at Morgan, but behind her.
The summoner turned around.
There stood Harmony Fairweather, untouched by the witch's demonic guards, holding an amulet, with its chain torn.
Morgan reached up to feel her breast devoid of the pendant for the first time in half a decade. The princess must have yanked it off while her guard was down from the slap, while her-"
The witch's stomach dropped.
Her concentration had broken.
Not another thought had time to cross her mind before Morgan felt a massive hand seize each of her arms. The first brought scalding pain across every inch of her skin, as if she was suddenly emerged in molten wax. The second came with waves of sexual release, and the mighty Royal Mage Morgan's back arched with arousal as she began to cum, and didn't stop.
The summoner screamed in agony and orgasm, writhing uselessly in the grip of her own former infernal bodyguards as her Infernal Grand Mage appeared in front of her, reaching a massive thumb into Morgan's mouth grip her jaw and hold her gaze, a move that would stop her from whispering any spells.
The being shapeshifted from its humanoid figure to its more demonic true form as it spoke unannounced for the first time in years, its eyes doubling the hate in Harmony's mere moments ago as its voice boomed through the ballroom.
"MORGAN BRISTLEBORN, you have committed crimes against the natural order," it bellowed. "You have compelled servitude from infernal creatures, used their magic to corrupt others. You have fucked the forbidden form of Daemons of Lust, and compelled others to do the same. You have willed 24 fiends to act against their purpose, all in perpetuity for nearly five years."
Morgan could only whimper as a crimson portal opened across the ballroom, and all other patrons hurried out of the way. As she struggled to resist the wave of climaxes rocking her body, she saw a crowd of fellow mortals utterly powerless to help her, all frozen in fear as they watched the daemonic spectacle of her capture.
All except Harmony Fairweather. Morgan's eyes went wide as she glimpsed her favorite victim subtly reaching down beneath her skirt, and between her legs. She looked up at Morgan with knowing triumph in her own smile: the witch's spells had been broken at last.
The spellcaster had no time to seethe, however, as the powerful Infernal Grand Mage before her added its own potent barrage of bodywide pain and pleasure to the magical effects already coursing through Morgan's body.
"You are hereby condemned to the harshest sentence an Infernal Grand Mage can impose," the supernatural being continued, dragging the witch by her mouth, kicking and flailing in vain as she was moved toward the portal. "You shall become a vessel of relief to the Daemons of Lust. All who fuck your physical form will gain the ability of sexual release, regardless of any curses that would otherwise prevent orgasm."
Every royal in attendance knew what the sentence entailed.
No more would Morgan be the most powerful and respected witch to walk the land. Instead, she would spend an eternity as a cum dump for pent-up demons, including the two dozen she'd kept as personal servants since shortly before her arrival on the court.
Eager for their own revenge on the witch, Morgan's former bodyguards laughed deeply, their free hands groping her openly as one pulled down her bodice to reveal the witch's firm but prominent breasts, the other hiking up her skirt to reveal a slim black thong, utterly soaked in the same juices visibly running down her thighs.
Royal Mage Morgan delicate, spellcaster's hands gripped against the edges of the portal, muscles straining to resist the might of the powerful creatures she'd mentally dominated for so many months.
She didn't stand a chance. As countless more hands emerged from the portal's depths, the crowd watched them grope the cruel mage's body, tearing at clothes and stuffing her holes in the warm, red light.
And when the witch faltered, her wails of orgasm were the last anyone heard of Royal Mage Morgan.
(Tysm for reading this longer story! And thanks SO MUCH to @lichelet for the amazing art that inspired this story! I know it took quite a while for me to get to it, but I'm SO happy with how it turned out!)
dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb...
Content warnings: hypnosis, bimbo stuff, mindbreak, personality erasing/brainwashing, you get the picture. Also body betrayal, self-imposed overstim.
(~1,700 words.)
---
Ritney had to admit she felt a little sheepishly excited as she got home early from work. It was a Friday, and it's not like she hadn't finished any of her responsibilities for the week. Quite the contrary, she'd been diligent each and every day, for the full duration of her shift.
And each day she'd punched out, headed back to her studio apartment uptown, had a quick dinner, and sat down to peruse that exciting new forum she'd found, "The Hypno Hangout."
Of course she was skeptical. Hypnosis was pseudoscience at best, after all, but it was just a little harmless fun. She was sure she could snap herself out of it if she ever wanted to, and besides, she'd been following one account that really hit her niche. An account that had uploaded a brand new file just under an hour ago, if her email notifications were to be believed.
The creator had built up a small following, claiming to publish a "training program for bimbos," and Ritney had spent the last four work nights in edged-out bliss, watching mesmerizing spirals dance across her desktop monitor as she gently rubbed between her legs.
In theory, the programs had subliminal messages that would let the viewer cum, but only if they'd "truly" become a bimbo, whatever that meant. It was a little ridiculous, sure, but again, Ritney was aroused enough by the idea to have a good time edging for hours on end. Not like she had anything better to do with her boyfriend out on that hiking trip for another three days, anyway.
She clicked the "download" button on the latest file, and quickly undressed as the bar inched its way across the screen. She put a soft towel down at her desk chair after tossing her button-up white shirt, pencil skirt and lacy undergarments to the floor.
She had a moment to look down at herself, illuminated in the soft glow of her monitor as the last few unfilled pixels lingered on the progress bar. She had to admit, she'd really bought into this fun new fetish over the last few days: her body was cleanly shaven, and a few nights of modest exercise had her figure looking great. The hair dye had helped the image too, and she was sure her boyfriend wouldn't mind - they'd always joked about how he had a thing for blondes.
Slipping on her noise-canceling headphones, Ritney looked up as the loading bar closed at last, replaced by a new window. But it wasn't the familiar spiral video/text on screen/subliminal audio format she was used to -- this window just had faintly pink text on an otherwise black background.
"Hello, Bimbo," it read. "This hypnosis file requires the user to record a few lines of their dialogue. Click this checkbox to show you understand."
Ritney flipped her wifi off. She didn't think the file was malicious, but just in case, she'd delete it - and any audio recording she made - before turning it back on. No sense in risking some pervert backdooring into her PC to hear her voice, she preferred to remain anonymous online.
She checked the box.
"Good girl. Please find the highest-quality microphone you have available. On the next page, you'll be asked to record a single sentence. Press 'Continue' when ready."
She pressed it.
New words appeared. In your best Bimbo-y voice, please say the following into the mic.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," she said, putting on a fake girly accent for the hell of it, before hitting the key to proceed.
A small, pink spun in the middle of her screen as the data was processed. A new pop-up appeared:
"That was not girlie enough. Again."
The view returned to the previous window, the same instructions and words.
So forward! Ritney smirked. Alright, she'd play along.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," she read aloud, her voice a smidge higher-pitched.
The same error appeared, and she was returned to the recording screen. Alright. Fine. She'd have to go all-in.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," she read for the third time, now with a dumb little giggle and ridiculously sultry tone.
"Great job! Please repeat the message ten more times!" the new message urged.
Ritney continued to play along until she'd lost count of the line reads, before finally seeing that familiar colorful spiral.
"Such a good Bimbo," the new text read, fading in and out of view with the gently moving hypnotic colors. "Your hypnosis will begin now. Please relax, enjoy, and don't forget to edge."
She gladly complied, spreading her legs and fondling her chest as soft echoes of her own voice began to play, emerging through the relaxing sounds of the normal hypnotic music.
She felt herself sinking into that beautiful, voluntary trance as the words, her words, flowed across her mind again and again.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself,"
Her eyes lazily watched the pretty colors on the screen as her fingers danced across her slit. She was already soaked, and without thinking about it, her hands fell into a rhythm, toying with herself for a few seconds, then pulling away to stay on the edge, then repeating once more.
Ritney was utterly relaxed as her body yearned for more, riding the waves of tantalizing bliss that came with each and every edge.
It was almost meditative, this state, and she began to ponder the words whispered repeatedly into her ears by her own humiliatingly ditzy voice.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," was seldom played in full, she realized. Usually the program seemed to string together multiple takes in a row, mixing and matching phrases to make it seem like one long-running, continuous sentence. Sometimes it'd even weave in her ditzy little giggles.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself, dumb enough to cum myself, dumb enough to cum myself"
Did that new phrase change the meaning? It was hard to say - hard to think at all, really, when she was this close to cumming for... however long she'd been here. There was no way to tell: she'd shuttered the windows before starting, and checking the time would mean looking away from the pretty screen, something she had no intention of doing.
"dumb enough to cum myself, dumb. enough. to cum myself, dumb. Enough to cum myself dumb."
New commands, fun commands, started appearing on Ritney's display, fading in and out through the maelstrom of enthralling lights and shapes and spirals.
The woman eagerly complied as the words prompted her to "grope," "bounce," "edge," "hold it," and "drool." Somewhere far, far away, her mind registered the sound of herself letting out an air-headed laugh as she felt the drool roll from her tongue and dribble down her bouncing tits.
Fuck, she was in deep.
This wasn't like the other files. Rhitney couldn't tear her eyes off the display if she wanted to. And even if she did, she couldn't imagine taking the headphones off now as they repeated her own bimbo-y-ist voice back at her again, and again.
Her conscious mind, meanwhile, toiled over the newfound meaning of these barely re-ordered words.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself, dumb enough to cum myself"
"...dumb enough..."
"...to cum myself dumb."
Eureka.
Rhitney let out a mix of a giggle and a moan as the realization dawned on her. She didn't need to be "dumb enough to cum." She needed to be "dumb enough to cum herself dumb."
No rational woman would cum herself dumb, push herself through climax after climax, to the breaking point and beyond, until she turned dumber and dumber with each release. It would be senseless! Throwing away her intelligence, her skills, her reputation, all for some silly little kinkplay.
And yet. It would mean she could cum.
The decision had very much been made already. The moment her body discovered the secret to cumming, after edging for god only knows how long, her hand on her clit accelerated rapidly. Her conscious mind didn't even have time to notice the floodgates of orgasm straining, until they'd already broken.
Rhitney's back arched and her abs tightened as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced ripped through her. Her left hand desperately fondled her aching breast and her eyes rolled back in her head as she was steeped in bliss.
In the throes of passion, she repeated her newfound realization aloud, her raspy, mid-orgasm gasps repeating her newfound mantra.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself dumb!" She laughed with mindless delirium. "Dumb enough to cum myself dumb!"
The second, third, and fourth orgasms arrived within moments, tearing through Rhitney after days of painstaking denial.
Eyes still glued to that perfect screen, her left hand fumbled blindly through desk drawers before retrieving her vibrator, fortunately still plugged in from some online activity a few days prior. Quickly dialing it to full power, she pressed it desperately to her clit just in time for a fifth climax.
Rhitney saw stars and black spots in her vision as the onslaught of pleasure threatened her consciousness. This was way too much, she'd never cum this many times in a single day, much less a single minute.
And the over-stimulation of postorgasmic contact made each climax double the intensity of the last. Tears rolled down her cheeks before joining the stream of drool, dyed by black eye makeup as it snaked down to the pool of sex below.
Rhitney's body was at its limit, and she didn't care. She was going to cum herself dumb.
She fought hard, pushing back on every instinct screaming to pull the vibrator away and collapse onto the floor as orgasms six and seven shot fire through her nerves.
Riding into the eighth, she could feel her mind fraying, and she pushed on with glee, still moaning the only words she needed to know now.
"Dummmmmmmmb.. ennnnnnough! to cummmmmmm m-myysssselfffff, DDDDUUUUUMMMMB!"
All she could do was laugh as the next orgasm hit. She was nowhere close to done yet, nowhere close to cumming herself sufficiently dumb.
But she would be. Soon enough.
(Requested by an anonymous blogger, tysm to @bambi-iis-brainwashed for posting the inspirational content!)
dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb...
Content warnings: hypnosis, bimbo stuff, mindbreak, personality erasing/brainwashing, you get the picture. Also body betrayal, self-imposed overstim.
(~1,700 words.)
---
Ritney had to admit she felt a little sheepishly excited as she got home early from work. It was a Friday, and it's not like she hadn't finished any of her responsibilities for the week. Quite the contrary, she'd been diligent each and every day, for the full duration of her shift.
And each day she'd punched out, headed back to her studio apartment uptown, had a quick dinner, and sat down to peruse that exciting new forum she'd found, "The Hypno Hangout."
Of course she was skeptical. Hypnosis was pseudoscience at best, after all, but it was just a little harmless fun. She was sure she could snap herself out of it if she ever wanted to, and besides, she'd been following one account that really hit her niche. An account that had uploaded a brand new file just under an hour ago, if her email notifications were to be believed.
The creator had built up a small following, claiming to publish a "training program for bimbos," and Ritney had spent the last four work nights in edged-out bliss, watching mesmerizing spirals dance across her desktop monitor as she gently rubbed between her legs.
In theory, the programs had subliminal messages that would let the viewer cum, but only if they'd "truly" become a bimbo, whatever that meant. It was a little ridiculous, sure, but again, Ritney was aroused enough by the idea to have a good time edging for hours on end. Not like she had anything better to do with her boyfriend out on that hiking trip for another three days, anyway.
She clicked the "download" button on the latest file, and quickly undressed as the bar inched its way across the screen. She put a soft towel down at her desk chair after tossing her button-up white shirt, pencil skirt and lacy undergarments to the floor.
She had a moment to look down at herself, illuminated in the soft glow of her monitor as the last few unfilled pixels lingered on the progress bar. She had to admit, she'd really bought into this fun new fetish over the last few days: her body was cleanly shaven, and a few nights of modest exercise had her figure looking great. The hair dye had helped the image too, and she was sure her boyfriend wouldn't mind - they'd always joked about how he had a thing for blondes.
Slipping on her noise-canceling headphones, Ritney looked up as the loading bar closed at last, replaced by a new window. But it wasn't the familiar spiral video/text on screen/subliminal audio format she was used to -- this window just had faintly pink text on an otherwise black background.
"Hello, Bimbo," it read. "This hypnosis file requires the user to record a few lines of their dialogue. Click this checkbox to show you understand."
Ritney flipped her wifi off. She didn't think the file was malicious, but just in case, she'd delete it - and any audio recording she made - before turning it back on. No sense in risking some pervert backdooring into her PC to hear her voice, she preferred to remain anonymous online.
She checked the box.
"Good girl. Please find the highest-quality microphone you have available. On the next page, you'll be asked to record a single sentence. Press 'Continue' when ready."
She pressed it.
New words appeared. In your best Bimbo-y voice, please say the following into the mic.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," she said, putting on a fake girly accent for the hell of it, before hitting the key to proceed.
A small, pink spun in the middle of her screen as the data was processed. A new pop-up appeared:
"That was not girlie enough. Again."
The view returned to the previous window, the same instructions and words.
So forward! Ritney smirked. Alright, she'd play along.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," she read aloud, her voice a smidge higher-pitched.
The same error appeared, and she was returned to the recording screen. Alright. Fine. She'd have to go all-in.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," she read for the third time, now with a dumb little giggle and ridiculously sultry tone.
"Great job! Please repeat the message ten more times!" the new message urged.
Ritney continued to play along until she'd lost count of the line reads, before finally seeing that familiar colorful spiral.
"Such a good Bimbo," the new text read, fading in and out of view with the gently moving hypnotic colors. "Your hypnosis will begin now. Please relax, enjoy, and don't forget to edge."
She gladly complied, spreading her legs and fondling her chest as soft echoes of her own voice began to play, emerging through the relaxing sounds of the normal hypnotic music.
She felt herself sinking into that beautiful, voluntary trance as the words, her words, flowed across her mind again and again.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself,"
Her eyes lazily watched the pretty colors on the screen as her fingers danced across her slit. She was already soaked, and without thinking about it, her hands fell into a rhythm, toying with herself for a few seconds, then pulling away to stay on the edge, then repeating once more.
Ritney was utterly relaxed as her body yearned for more, riding the waves of tantalizing bliss that came with each and every edge.
It was almost meditative, this state, and she began to ponder the words whispered repeatedly into her ears by her own humiliatingly ditzy voice.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself," was seldom played in full, she realized. Usually the program seemed to string together multiple takes in a row, mixing and matching phrases to make it seem like one long-running, continuous sentence. Sometimes it'd even weave in her ditzy little giggles.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself, dumb enough to cum myself, dumb enough to cum myself"
Did that new phrase change the meaning? It was hard to say - hard to think at all, really, when she was this close to cumming for... however long she'd been here. There was no way to tell: she'd shuttered the windows before starting, and checking the time would mean looking away from the pretty screen, something she had no intention of doing.
"dumb enough to cum myself, dumb. enough. to cum myself, dumb. Enough to cum myself dumb."
New commands, fun commands, started appearing on Ritney's display, fading in and out through the maelstrom of enthralling lights and shapes and spirals.
The woman eagerly complied as the words prompted her to "grope," "bounce," "edge," "hold it," and "drool." Somewhere far, far away, her mind registered the sound of herself letting out an air-headed laugh as she felt the drool roll from her tongue and dribble down her bouncing tits.
Fuck, she was in deep.
This wasn't like the other files. Rhitney couldn't tear her eyes off the display if she wanted to. And even if she did, she couldn't imagine taking the headphones off now as they repeated her own bimbo-y-ist voice back at her again, and again.
Her conscious mind, meanwhile, toiled over the newfound meaning of these barely re-ordered words.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself dumb enough to cum myself, dumb enough to cum myself"
"...dumb enough..."
"...to cum myself dumb."
Eureka.
Rhitney let out a mix of a giggle and a moan as the realization dawned on her. She didn't need to be "dumb enough to cum." She needed to be "dumb enough to cum herself dumb."
No rational woman would cum herself dumb, push herself through climax after climax, to the breaking point and beyond, until she turned dumber and dumber with each release. It would be senseless! Throwing away her intelligence, her skills, her reputation, all for some silly little kinkplay.
And yet. It would mean she could cum.
The decision had very much been made already. The moment her body discovered the secret to cumming, after edging for god only knows how long, her hand on her clit accelerated rapidly. Her conscious mind didn't even have time to notice the floodgates of orgasm straining, until they'd already broken.
Rhitney's back arched and her abs tightened as the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced ripped through her. Her left hand desperately fondled her aching breast and her eyes rolled back in her head as she was steeped in bliss.
In the throes of passion, she repeated her newfound realization aloud, her raspy, mid-orgasm gasps repeating her newfound mantra.
"I'm dumb enough to cum myself dumb!" She laughed with mindless delirium. "Dumb enough to cum myself dumb!"
The second, third, and fourth orgasms arrived within moments, tearing through Rhitney after days of painstaking denial.
Eyes still glued to that perfect screen, her left hand fumbled blindly through desk drawers before retrieving her vibrator, fortunately still plugged in from some online activity a few days prior. Quickly dialing it to full power, she pressed it desperately to her clit just in time for a fifth climax.
Rhitney saw stars and black spots in her vision as the onslaught of pleasure threatened her consciousness. This was way too much, she'd never cum this many times in a single day, much less a single minute.
And the over-stimulation of postorgasmic contact made each climax double the intensity of the last. Tears rolled down her cheeks before joining the stream of drool, dyed by black eye makeup as it snaked down to the pool of sex below.
Rhitney's body was at its limit, and she didn't care. She was going to cum herself dumb.
She fought hard, pushing back on every instinct screaming to pull the vibrator away and collapse onto the floor as orgasms six and seven shot fire through her nerves.
Riding into the eighth, she could feel her mind fraying, and she pushed on with glee, still moaning the only words she needed to know now.
"Dummmmmmmmb.. ennnnnnough! to cummmmmmm m-myysssselfffff, DDDDUUUUUMMMMB!"
All she could do was laugh as the next orgasm hit. She was nowhere close to done yet, nowhere close to cumming herself sufficiently dumb.
But she would be. Soon enough.
(Requested by an anonymous blogger, tysm to @bambi-iis-brainwashed for posting the inspirational content!)
writing a cover letter is just like: here is my worksona she has no mental illnesses and hates breaks! i would like to larp her for 40 hours a week with full pay and benefits
Thanks to @iamnotbeingbrainwashed for the inspiration! CW: Hypnosis, feminization/bimboification, edging, noncon, mindbreak, mind control, drug use, general struggling to resist.
(I took like, at least a yearlong hiatus after @iamnotbeingbrainwashed agreed to let me make their post a prompt. Hope it's worth the wait!)
---
Adalyn's eyes flew open with the sudden, startling noise. She'd been... asleep? Unconscious? The last thing she remembered was sitting in the waiting room of that psych office, for some experiment that was supposed to pay her $50.
She'd had a glass of the water from the cooler, and... then everything went black. Had she passed out? Shit, had the water been laced?
It was hard to tell. All her eyes could see was a flickering, wavy spiral, even when she turned her head. It must've been some sort of VR device, apparently with the brightness and volume turned all the way up. She was bombarded by dozens of voices at once, overlapping and spilling into her mind.
"No fucking way," she thought. "No. NO! I am NOT being brainwashed! Not to-fucking-day."
Adalyn tried to focus, a nigh impossible task given all the stimulation surrounding her head. She tried to reach up and take the device off, only to find her forearms tied together behind her back. Her efforts to stand up were equally fruitless, and she felt thick leathery bands holding her down to a chair.
Staring into the spiral was obviously not the play, and she strained her eyes to look at the top right corner of the screen instead as she tried to gather her thoughts.
OK, c'mon, time to think. She had drank the water, and then... what? Had she sat back down? She'd been considering walking out after the 45-minute wait. Had she done that? Maybe she-
Fuck, her eyes hurt. The colors at the corner of the screen seemed brighter than the welcoming, pleasant hue of the spiral itself, and Adalyn's cornea burned from the harsh, color-shifting display.
She closed her eyes instead. That was a mistake.
"You're just a pretty sl-
"You just love to take c-"
"You were made to be a fuckt-"
"You are being brainwashed."
No longer distracted by the equally overstimulating visuals, Adalyn heard the voices spilling into her head. They hadn't quite been coherent before, but now, with nowhere else to turn her attention-
Each voice had a different intonation. Some where low and sultry, others were almost comically valley-girl-esque. Another stood out altogether: less salacious, almost frank in its assessment. Spoken with the intonation one might use to describe a scientific fact, or assert a matter of law. The woman's voice was low but crystal clear, cutting through the rest of the incessant hyper-feminine babble.
It took a moment to place the voice as that of the receptionist, the one who'd handed her that water cup in the terribly arid waiting room.
In her mind's eye, Adalyn could see the speaker now. She had brown, wavy hair down to her upper back, and looked to be about in her early 30s, just like herself.
Adalyn recalled just how attractive the woman had looked, wearing full makeup, a tastefully form-fitting dress, expertly done hair, and a deep V that offered a generous view of her sizable curves.
The vision was so vivid, the woman might as well have been standing right in front of her. Fuck, what had they put in that water?
Adalyn could see the woman leaning forward in her mind's eye, before the audio of her voice played slightly louder, again flowing over the torrent of feminine tones as she spoke.
Panicking and desperate to escape the insistent voices, Adalyn opened her eyes again, once more face to face with a pleasant pink spiral in a black void, infinitely more inviting than the harshly flickering colors at the edge of her screen.
The voices were still loud, but if Adalyn just focused on the spiral, she could tune them out, and-
"You are being brainwashed."
Well, tune out most of them, at least.
Fighting desperately to regather her composure, the woman focused all her thoughts on the spiral locked in front of her eyes.
And noticed, to her horror, that there were messages there, too.
She thought she was imagining them at first. Single frames of words in white text flashed over the pink spiral. She never had time to read them, but her mind eventually managed to interpret the repeatedly flashing phrases written in red, glowing text.
"Relax your mind."
"You're a good girl"
"Good girls don't think"
"Relax your mind"
"You're a good girl"
"Good girls don't think"
Adalyn felt enraged by the demeaning, repetitive remarks. She felt enraged that someone was trying to do this to her, she felt, scared, she felt defiant, she felt... desperate?
Her heart quickened and her body ached for... something. Something it had just a moment ago, but then lost. Adalyn couldn't put her finger on just what it was, but she new something had changed.
And after a few moments, the need evaporated. She felt sated again, or at least, content enough to go back to worrying about her predicament.
And then the need returned. And after a few moments, it left. Then returned, then left again.
The cycle repeated a few times more before Adalyn noticed the sensations beyond her head. A vibrator of some kind was pressed comfortably against her clit, buzzing away at just the right setting to push her over the edge. She felt her muscles tighten and let her eyes roll back as she prepared to stifle a moan and feel the rush of climax, before-
"You are being brainwashed."
The vibrator clicked off, and was pulled away from her body.
Adalyn failed to stifle a yearning moan, her hips thrusting in vain against thin air. Whatever position she had bound to this chair, she had nothing to press between her legs whatsoever. In fact, it seemed like there was some kind of opening in the front, middle area of the chair.
Seconds passed excruciatingly slowly before the device returned, pressed against her slit with the same precision and force. She welcomed it with bliss.
With her guard down, her eyes resumed reading the words fading in and out peacefully at the center of the spiral.
"Relax your mind."
"You're a good girl"
"Good girls don't think"
"Relax your mind"
"You're a good girl"
"Good girls don't think"
Fuck, Adalyn had to break free. She was NOT being brainwashed. But if she could just cum, just one time, then maybe she could think straight and get out of this.
The vibrations were so intense. She was so close. She was-
"You are being brainwashed."
The vibrator pulled away.
And returned.
"You are being brainwashed."
And away. And-
"-Pretty Slut for your master."
"-Love to take cock like a whore."
"- a fucktoy for anyone to enjoy!"
And-
"You are being brainwashed."
"Relax your mind."
"You're a good girl"
"Good girls don't think"
"Relax your mind"
"You're a good girl"
"Good girls don't think"
"You are being brainwashed."
"You exist to serve others."
"Your body is an object for others' pleasure."
(In her own voice) "Please. Please let me cum. I need it, I need-"
"You deserve to get fucked until you can't think anymore."
"You love being desperate, it makes you feel sexy."
having friends who you discuss and write niche pornography with is like. ok here’s the nuclear launch codes for my psyche. don’t do anything weird with it haha
United we Smut @versatiletwink - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
