A blog about mind control, bimbofication, cumsluts, and other really filthy things. Love weed, hypno, musk/scent play. 37 yrs. Chat me if you like.
Minors DNI.
You can call me Trance. 37 male, USA. I used to think I was a dom, then I thought I was a switch. I might just be a helpless hypnoslut. I'm not really sure. Looking for someone to chat with, possibly play with. I've never let someone into my head before, but the thought makes me all melty and gooey inside.
I recently developed an appreciation for girlcock, but boycock doesn't really do it for me. No hating, it's just not my thing.
I'd really like to be part of the hypno community, but I don't really know how to do that. On that front, chats and asks are open; I'm always happy to get chatty!
DNI if you're underage, a TERF, actual misogynist, or otherwise unpleasant piece of shit. If you're not sure, say hi. If you're one of those aforementioned pieces of shit, have no fear: I'll let you know.
Major Kinks (in order of absolute fucking love)
Mind Control
Hypnosis
Brainwashing
Gooning
Aphrodisiacs
Intox Play (especially weed)
Dumbification
Bimbofication/Himbofication
Cock Milking
Hucow
Other than that, I'm generally down with most things except the following:
Limits (in no particular order; these are all hard limits)
Scat
Piss
Vomit
Vore
Necro/Snuff
Blood
Ocean Stuff. I'm fucking serious about this one. Thalassophobia is no joke.
Some of you really need to hear the click of a leash being attached to your collar and feel the tug of the leash pull you forward so that you have no choice but to follow along and it shows
"So I, uh, I dunno what you have planned for this evening," Meredith murmured, giving Ben a sleepy-eyed smile before settling back onto the cushions of his wide, comfortable couch, "but I was thinking maybe we should just, um, y'know, stay in. I'm feeling a little too tired for dinner and a movie, y'know?" She wasn't so much surprised by the words as by the impulse behind them; Meredith remembered taking the stairs by twos to Ben's walk-up apartment, eager to meet the man all her friends insisted would make a perfect match, but now here she was slumped over on the sofa listening to the records on his vintage hi-fi and all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep.
She managed to resist the urge, but only slightly; her eyes were so heavy-lidded she could barely see Ben sitting down on the couch next to her, and her voice sounded slurred and sleepy when she muttered, "Besides, it's really, um, cozy in here and… and stuff." She let out a little giggle, embarrassed by her own inability to hold onto a train of thought, and even though Ben looked anything but dissatisfied at having his plans for the night ruined Meredith still felt like she needed to reassure him. "I, um, I'm not drunk or anything. I just, I… sleepy. Had a long day, I guess." She'd fully slumped into a supine position, now, one that gave Ben a pretty good look up her skirt as it rode up her pale, pillowy thighs, but she couldn't really bring herself to care.
Her eyes closed in a long, lazy blink, leaving her alone with just the soft music in her ears for a little while, and when she opened them again Meredith was vaguely surprised to notice her fingers undoing the buttons on her blouse one by one. "Sorry, I guess I just, uhh, I wanted to get… comfortable?" Something in the back of Meredith's brain turned the glib rationalization into a question, as she struggled to figure out why she felt so comfortable already and why it seemed like such a natural decision to strip out of her clothing to increase her comfort levels. But the harder she tried to think, the harder thinking became, and Meredith let out a grunt of arousal when she realized that giving up felt so incredibly good it made her pussy leak.
Ben must have understood what was happening to her, because he helped her wriggle her way out of her skirt and panties without even a word. In fact, he hadn't spoken this entire time, just favored her with nods and caresses and warm, encouraging smiles that made it even easier to relax into pleasure and follow her impulses wherever they led. "This kind of date's more my speed," she mumbled, drowsiness swallowing the end of each word, as she spread her legs and began to rub her pussy. She knew she was giving her blind date a full show, something far lewder and ruder and more demonstratively lascivious than she ever intended, but somehow it felt right with the music setting the mood.
By the time she had her first climax, Meredith's eyes were stuck tight shut, and by the time Ben's fingers joined hers she wasn't really thinking at all anymore. She managed to stammer out a sleepy, "please," when he took over the job of rubbing her pussy, but that was about it for words for the evening. Although Meredith still made plenty of noise by the time Ben was done with her.
(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!)
(news broadcaster voice) hello good evening. we have had hypnoslut sightings in this area, please keep all pocketwatches and pendants close to your person, and do NOT by any means, i repeat definitely do NOT, speak in a low and steady tone during this time. this is a mass alert.
please stay tuned for spiral broadcast testing. wait, that can't be righ-
i'm being told by the team here that that is right. so right. it's never been more right. hypnosluts, tune in for more tonight at...now. commence broadcast.
A building made for brainwashing. You walk in, and you simply ask for the kind of brainwashing you want. Slave, drone, pet, slut, doll, maid, toy, bimbo, and anything else you can think of.
As soon as you have made your request, you’re taken to a small private room and strapped down. A brainwashing helmet is placed on your head. As soon as it’s turned on, you will feel it overwhelming your mind and forcing it into submission, as your old self is forcibly reshaped.
You will be brainwashed like this from anywhere of a few days to a whole month. Brainwashing will be your life. When the brainwashing is done, you will be exactly what you asked to be.
Brainwashing via VR Headset is so incredible from either end~
On the subject’s side, just the idea of having dizzying, fascinating, intoxicating spirals overwhelm your entire vision—it is literally impossible to tear your eyes away from the enthralling patterns and subliminal messages beaming into your brain. Sure, you can try to squeeze your eyes shut and rip the headset off—but as your fingers brush against the sides, your arms feel heavy and limp, and you can’t quite remember what the problem with having the headset on is…your hands drop to your sides as your eyes flutter open, staring even deeper into the lovely spiral…
And on the hypnotist’s side, even before the conditioning starts, you get to see the subject with the headset on, covering their eyes, erasing their identity—a taste of what will happen to them when your program starts. You get to watch your victim’s mouth open wider and wider as they fall deeper. Drool start to build up. Body sinking into their chair. Mind reshaped into a perfect servant for your desires~
mmmmm to those of you who have seen me drop....tell me is how effective the headset is, able to make up for not being able to see my eyes....to watch the moment I drop?
#oh yeah this is above llyn padarn in llanberis ive been here#its not cutesy by the way. the man who owned these mines - lord penrhyn - was at the time the richest man in the world#these arent 'cottages' they were pigstys for the miners and their families#you're looking at a worktown built on the top of shitty little graves#there's a hospital museum underneath because so many minors died or lost limbs a lot of progress happened in field medicine#if you're ever in llanberis i recommend the old hospital museum it is free#i know this is tumblr so im wasting my breath but if you're gonna post aesthetic photos of the darker bits of north wales#it would be nice to post about how fucked up the things you're posting are also#welshposting
stealing your tags @queerlyhalloween they r importante
I’ll never not be amused by the fact that I can drop the words “crucifix nail nipples” into a conversation and some of you who have been with me since the livejournal days will join me in the flashbacks, screaming and crying all the way.
I require context. Because this is a very interesting start of a story, and now I need the rest of it. Could I get a link, or a summary, or something? Pretty please?
All right buckle the fuck up kids, it’s the year 2012 and I’ve just been handed what should be an easy editing gig by my senior editor. It’s a vampire erotica story because one of the final Twilight movies is about to come out, and everything is vampires. Everything. I haven’t edited a single thing in months which isn’t about vampires. I am ready, I can do this. So I open the file and notice there’s a typo in the title, which really should have been my first inkling that something horrendous was about to go down, but you see I’m not quite dead inside yet so I carry on, bushy tailed and bright eyed with my faith in humanity intact. It’ll be dead by page 24, but I don’t know that yet. I’m just editing one more vampire boner fest.
The MC is a girl who we’ll call Sue. Sue is a Good Girl™, Sue is Not Like Other Girls™, she is pale and awkward and a virgin and has somehow managed to find herself a Bad Boy™ for a boyfriend. We’ll call him Dickhead.
Now Dickhead as previously stated is a bit of dick, he tries to pressure Sue into sex because he knows she is The One™ but he loves her really so it’s okay. Except it’s not okay because Sue is a Good Girl™ and holding out till marriage which he’s fine with except he’s got such a bad case of blue balls that one night walking home an attractive stranger lures him into an alley with the words “hey stud” and he follows, dick out before she’s even finished her sentence. Well turns out that was a mistake for Dickhead because she’s a vampire, but not just any vampire, a Dick Biting Vampire. So what started out as a skeevy blow job behind a club that he’ll feel bad about in the morning, turns into him being bitten on the dick and drained of his life essence and left for dead. Except DBV fucked up and now he’s a vampire. Are you still with me? Good, cause it’s about to get weirder.
Realizing he is now an abomination, Dickhead flees, becoming a creature of the night and feeding on animals rather than humans to repent for being such an asshole in life. Sue meanwhile is heartbroken, but carries on valiantly with her life and goes to bed each night crying for the loss of her One True Love™ who she would do anything to bring back. Well guess what Sue, Dickhead never really left you! He’s been “instinctively protecting her from rapists” by hiding out on her roof and fighting hobos who try to get to her open window via the fire escape for months now. Because that’s not fucking terrifying at all.
Upon learning of his predicament and how it happened, Sue can do nothing but blame herself. Oh if only she’d let him touch her secret places, then perhaps all of this could be avoided! Meanwhile Dickhead is having another dilemma of his own, realizing too late that his vampire powers have given him super senses and now he can smell her blood and he can’t decide whether he wants to get with her or eat her. And I don’t mean in the French sense. But he is strong! And over comes his base manly vampire instincts and neither rapes not kills her. Hurrah! And this is so romantic that Sue gives it up, but not before she launches into a theory about how in all fairy tales, True Love saves the day, so maybe her magical pure vagina that has never been touched by anyone, not even her, can bring him back to life. So Dickhead being a dickhead agrees and rips her clothes off, but not before he takes one last moment to marvel at the beauty of her purity, because he will never again look on her again and know she is Pure.
If you’ve only vomited once by now, I applaud your resolve.
So they hop on the good foot and do the nasty, except she is literally so pure in spirit, her flesh burns his. And I quote you from memory because these words are burned into my soul: “her breasts bit into his hands, like crucifix nail nipples tearing at his flesh, but he did not care because he loved her so and couldn’t stop”
This phrase haunts me. I dread that it will be the last thing I think about on my death bed and my last words will literally be “god fucking dammit” as I die, carrying that mental image with me into the afterlife. My own solace is in knowing that I inflicted it on other people too, like @ahzuri who is somehow still with me after all these years.
When the magical burning sex fails to heal him and leaves her bruised, battered and broken with “a dainty blue bells of bruises around her secret flower” (I am genuinely quoting this, I could never make something as horrendous as this up without being on acid) Dickhead leaves. Yeah. Off he fucks, leaving her to the mercy of the hobos at her window, and into the night to be the true monster he really is. But wait, there’s more. Remember the dick biting vampire? Well turns out she has figured out she made him into a vampire and has also been stalking HIM and is totally jealous of Sue, so tries to kill her. But again Sues Purity saves her, because sex before marriage which was done out of True Love is not a sin, so she is still a spiritual virgin and I’ll be honest, I started drinking heavily at this point and it’s all a bit of a blur.
A fight ensues some pages later after Dickhead returns, realizing the mistake he has made. And he rescues Sue from the Dick Biter, but not before he assaults Dick Biter, and calls her a slut for luring innocent men into alleys cuts her heart out by cutting her breasts off, at which point i screamed “THAT’S NOT HOW YOU REACH THE HEART” and my brain short circuited completely and I have no idea how it ends because I realized there was 30 pages left and my soul couldn’t take it. I emailed the chief editor like ?????!!!!!!????!!!!!! and the book was immediately pulled from the work line and the author dismissed from the publishing house. Turns out she was a friend of a friend and that was how she got the manuscript past our entry levels for requirement.
And that’s the story of how an author sent me death threats for over a month because I stopped her shitty vampire porn from ever seeing the light of day. You’re all fucking WELCOME.
I hope the author finds this post one day, has a great sense of humor about it, and submits the manuscript (which she wrote as a teenager) for all our lulz.
I can tell you, she absolutely does not have a sense of humor about anything, lol. At the time when this happened they had to change my company email because she was sending me unhinged death threats from multiple Gmail accounts for “sabotaging” her life’s work. She was also at the time, in her 30s.
That was on top of the prior abusive emails she sent demanding to know why I’d changed things in her perfect manuscript. Like, y'know, grammatical errors and typos. Or her batshit concepts of human anatomy.
I also regret to inform everyone in the notes discovering this for the first time and wanting to believe this was satire, it was actually Christian Erotica (which is actually a very profitable sub-category of the genre).
This was a wholly sincere attempt at writing scintillating sex.
Also, to the people ten years ago who said I was a mean hater and said I couldn’t do better? Fucking bet, lmao.
You’re lying across my lap, looking up at me with that expression I’ve come to recognize. The one that means you’re about to be annoying in a way I find incredibly attractive.
"What thing?"
"You know what thing." You tap your temple. "The brainwashing thing. Make me dumb again."
"I made you dumb three hours ago."
"And now I’m smart again and I hate it." You say this with genuine petulance, like intelligence is an inconvenience that’s been inflicted on you. "My thoughts are back. They’re loud. I don’t like them."
I run my fingers through your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way I know you like. You make a sound that’s almost a purr and push up into my hand.
"You need breaks. Recovery time. You can’t just be a dumb doll forever."
"I mean, I could. We could try it and see."
"That’s not how brains work. You need to come back up so you can go back down. Otherwise you build tolerance."
"That sounds fake."
"It’s not fake. It’s neurochemistry."
"Okay but what if I just don’t care about neurochemistry?" You shift in my lap, restless, your hand finding its way to my thigh. "What if I care about being a drooling mess on your cock? Me and your cock. We have chemistry."
"You’re being bratty. That’s why I know you’re not ready. You’re going through dumb withdrawals."
"I’m not bratty, I’m horny. When I’m bratty I want to annoy you. Right now I want you to turn my brain off and fuck me stupid. Totally different energy."
"The answer is still no."
You sit up slightly, turning to face me. "You don’t understand what it’s like. When you do that thing with your voice and tell me to sink and stop thinking, it’s like… you know when you’re really stressed and you get into a hot bath?"
"That’s more of a you thing."
"Whatever. It’s like that but for my entire brain. Everything goes quiet and far away. And then you fuck me and I don’t have to worry about whether I’m doing it right or making weird faces because I’m too stupid to worry. I just feel things. It’s the best."
"Yeah I get it. I’m the one doing it to you. I know what it turns you into."
"Then why won’t you do it again?"
"Because I’m trying to be responsible. Moderation is important, and I care about your mental health."
You groan and flop back into my lap. "My mental health would be better if you’d just fry my brain a little and rail me."
You’re squirming now, pressing your thighs together, and I can tell the conversation itself is turning you on. Talking about going dumb makes you want to go dumb. "Just a little? You don’t have to do a full session. Just take the edge off. Make me fuzzy. I’ll be so good."
"You’re always good when you’re fuzzy. The hard part is being good now"
"Right, so let’s do the easy part. I like easy. I’m advocating for easy."
I should say no. We did a long session this afternoon and you need time to integrate, to come back fully, to remember that you’re a person with thoughts and preferences and a life outside of this dynamic.
But you’re looking up at me with those eyes, and I can feel my resolve crumbling.
"A little," I say. "Just enough to take the edge off. Then you’re eating dinner and going to sleep like a normal person."
You’re already grinning, already settling back, letting your body go slack in anticipation. "Yes Sir. Whatever you say."
I start stroking your hair with more intention now. Slower. I watch your breathing change, watch you sink into the sensation before I’ve even said a word.
"You really can’t help yourself."
You shake your head, a small dreamy motion. "Don’t want to help myself. Want you to do everything."
"Close your eyes."
You do. Immediately. Like I’ve pressed a button. It’s almost too easy at this point.
"Deep breath. Let it out slow."
Your chest rises and falls. Tension drains from your shoulders. You’re already halfway there just from anticipation.
"You know what happens next. You’ve done this so many times your brain just does it automatically now. The moment I start talking like this, you start sinking."
A soft sound escapes you. Agreement. Surrender.
"That’s embarrassing, if you think about it. How easy you are. How quickly you just…" I snap my fingers. "Gone."
Your face goes slack. Your mouth falls open. I didn’t even have to try. You did all the work yourself, desperate to get back to that empty place.
"How do you feel?"
It takes you a moment to find words. They come out slow and slurred. "Good. Floaty. Dumb."
"Of course you do." I keep stroking your hair. "Open your eyes."
You do, and there’s nothing behind them. No anxiety, no self-consciousness. Just empty, eager devotion. You look like a different person when you’re like this. Happy in a way that your overthinking brain usually won’t allow.
I should stop here. I said just the edge off. I said I’d be responsible.
But you’re already reaching for my cock with clumsy hands, and I’m only human.
"Can I?" You’re fumbling with my zipper. "Want to be useful."
"I thought you wanted me to use you."
"Same thing." You get my cock free and stare at it with dazed appreciation. "Toys are used and useful. Want to be your toy."
You lower your mouth and take me in with no technique at all, just enthusiasm and wet heat and happy little sounds. You’re drooling because you’re too dumb to remember to swallow. It’s obscene. It’s also incredibly hot, which is annoying because it means you’re going to win this argument.
I gather your hair and hold it loosely. "You know you’re proving my point, right? I said moderation is important and now you’re slobbering on my cock like you’ll die without it."
You moan in what I think is agreement. Hard to tell with your mouth full.
"This is exactly why you need breaks. So you don’t turn into a permanently cock-drunk idiot."
Another moan. Your hips are rocking, grinding against the couch.
"You’re not even listening to me, are you?"
You shake your head slightly, still sucking. Of course you’re not. There’s nothing in there to listen with.
I pull you off by the hair. You whine at the loss, mouth still open, a string of spit connecting your lips to my cock.
"Tell me what you are."
The words come slow. "Your… dumb… doll."
"And what do dumb dolls do?"
"Whatever you tell them. Get used. Feel good..." A pause while you search for more. "Don’t think."
"At least you’ve got that right. Good dolly."
Your whole body shudders. You’re so simple right now. A few words of praise and you light up like it’s the greatest thing anyone’s ever said to you.
I pull you into my lap and position you over my cock. You sink down with a look of dumb gratitude that makes all my good intentions feel very far away.
You start to move, slow and clumsy, grinding more than riding because coordination is beyond you. Your head falls back. You’re making sounds that aren’t words, just pleasure noise.
"This is what you wanted? To be too stupid to fuck me properly?"
You nod, still moving. "Love it. Love being dumb."
"You’re ridiculous."
"Mm-hmm." You don’t disagree. You don’t care.
I grip your hips and take over, setting the rhythm you’re too fuzzy to maintain. You go limp and let me, become exactly what you said you wanted. A toy. A warm hole that moans when you use it right.
"You’re going to cum for me," I tell you. "Because that’s what dumb dolls do. They cum and say thank you and don’t think about anything else."
"Yes. Yes yes yes."
I fuck you harder and you fall apart, clenching around me. I follow a moment later, pulling you down, filling you while you twitch and babble.
Afterward you slump against my chest, still making small sounds, still floating.
"You’re going to be insufferable about this," I tell you. "You’re only going to want more and more."
You nod against my chest. "More is better."
"Don’t start arguing even when you’re dumb. I can’t handle that."
You snuggle closer. "Me dumb is better. Accept it."
Some arguments I just can’t win.
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