hypnosubtyler

[hypnosubtyler]

Trouble at Preppy Academy

Jameson woke up at precisely 6:00 AM, the soft chime of the Academy’s morning bell echoing through the dormitory like a lullaby played in reverse. He blinked twice, slowly, then sat up with practiced grace. The room was already faintly glowing with warm morning light filtering through sheer cream curtains. Everything was exactly where it should be, clothes pressed, shoes shined, schedule laminated and clipped on the back of the door.

Across the room, Matthew was already standing by the mirror, methodically applying product to his hair with a small, precise comb. Each motion was deliberate, mechanical, efficient. Jameson said nothing, just rose and crossed to his own station.

The two men worked in silence, side by side. Their reflections moved in near unison, brushing teeth, styling hair, adjusting their shirtsleeves. The air between them was calm but stiff, like two wind-up dolls performing their morning protocol. Jameson parted his hair, aligned his collar, and spritzed his aftershave once. Exactly once.

“Today’s schedule is unchanged,” Matthew said evenly, without looking away from the mirror.

Jameson nodded. “Understood.”

Downstairs, the hall was already beginning to stir. The scent of polished wood, linen, and faint cologne hung in the air as Jameson and Matthew descended the main staircase together, footsteps perfectly synchronized on the marble.

At the foot of the stairs stood Julian, clipboard in hand, lips curled into his signature smile, the kind that never quite touched his eyes.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “Everything in order?”

“Yes, sir,” Jameson replied.

Julian gave an approving nod. “Excellent. We have a new cohort arriving this morning. I expect you to represent the Academy with full decorum. Lead the tour, answer questions, but only as instructed.”

Jameson met his eyes. “Understood. Do we know how many?”

“Six,” Julian said, flipping a page on his clipboard. “Five who will fall in line. And one... with potential. But we’ll see. We always do.”

Jameson felt a flicker of something, curiosity? Anxiety?, but buried it with a practiced breath. He gave a crisp nod and turned toward the entrance.

The iron gates would open soon. And someone new would walk through them.

Someone who didn’t yet understand what it meant to belong.

"Welcome all prospective students!" Jameson said with the same smile on his face he had on yesterday, and the day before, and for as long as he could remember.

"What the fuck's this, Hogwarts?" somebody muttered at the back of the crowd.

"So much better... more than you could ever imagine" Jameson said, walking through the crowd to meet the man who spoke earlier.

"Name's Elliot mate." Elliot tutted, turning away from Jameson who was swiftly approaching him.

"Brilliant! Welcome Elliot, I am sure you will fit in just perfectly here." Jameson said, in the same monotone voice he always used for these tours.

"Doubt it...."

Jameson took his small group into the school, they walked past the main hall, walked past the many, many rehabilitation rooms scattered along the corridors.

"What are these then, why they all locked?" Elliot asked Jameson, aggressively.

"In due time, you may find out." Jameson responded, almost too quickly, as if he had been told what to say beforehand.

Jameson took his group to visit the reflection garden, where they were to meet up with Matthew, who would take them for a tour of the garden while Jameson goes to see Xander for his weekly tuning session.

As soon as they arrived at the garden, Jameson introduced his group to Matthew, who took over graciously, telling them all about the history of the garden and why they love coming here so much.

But Elliot wasn't interested in any of that, he snuck away from the group while Matthew's back was turned, and caught up with Jameson who had almost reached his scheduled appointment.

Jameson walked with purpose, his polished loafers tapping rhythmically against the stone corridor floor. The hallway was quiet, lined with portraits of former Academy alumni whose smiles seemed far too fixed. He turned a corner toward the west wing, the restricted wing, where only certain students were permitted during specific times.

“Hey!” a voice barked behind him. “Where are you off to?”

Jameson paused mid-step, slowly turning his head. Elliot was striding down the corridor toward him, eyes narrowed, and posture rigid like a coiled spring.

“I have an appointment,” Jameson said calmly, his tone smooth and level.

Elliot crossed his arms. “You lot really love being vague, don’t you? What kind of appointment? Why’s it in the part of the school that’s supposedly off-limits?”

Jameson blinked once. “It is my weekly self-improvement session, every student has one."

“Self-improvement appointment?” Elliot scoffed. His voice dipped into sarcasm, though his eyes were dead serious. “Every guy I’ve talked to here sounds like a Stepford clone. Including you.”

Jameson tilted his head slightly. “It ensures our optimal alignment with Academy expectations. It is necessary for excellence.”

Elliot snorted. “You hear yourself right now? You sound like someone’s feeding you lines through an earpiece. You don’t even blink when you talk.”

Jameson offered a placid smile. “You will come to understand in time. Resistance is simply a phase.”

“Well, I’m not interested in being ‘aligned,’ thanks,” Elliot snapped. “And I don’t trust you, or that Julian guy, or whoever’s behind that weird door with the blue light coming out from under it.”

Jameson took a step forward, calm as ever. “Curiosity is natural at first. But peace comes with structure. You’ll see.”

Elliot frowned, visibly frustrated. “What are you even going to do in there?”

Jameson looked at the heavy double doors ahead, then back at Elliot. “Become better.”

Elliot, infuriated, blocked the door from Jameson, "I'm not letting you in there mate, they're controlling you can't you see?!"

"Move, now. He will not be pleased." Jameson said, trying to force Elliot out of the way.

"Do you not hear yourself?!" Elliot shouted as he reached for the vase on the nearby table, before smashing it over Jameson's head, knocking him out cold.

Elliot, in a panic, put Jameson's limp body over his shoulder as he headed to the back of the school, where nobody ever went.

Two hours went by, Matthew returned to his dorm room at exactly 11:00, to which he was greeted by a phone call, "Hello."

"Matthew, where is Jameson?" A deep voice said from the other end.

"He is at his weekly tuning session Sir" Matthew said without hesitation.

"No, he never showed, and what's more, one of the perspective students is missing, Elliot. You were supposed to be taking care of them while Jameson was with me, you disappointed me Matthew."

Xander, the man on the other end, put the phone down, Matthew's face went bright red, he had never heard those words from Xander before, he became confused as he believed Jameson's will to conform was very strong.

Matthew went over the hall to Julian's room, told him about the call, and set out with Julian to search for Jameson.

Meanwhile, at the back of the school, Jameson was waking up, rubbing his head, "Where are we?"

"I dunno, you go to school here you tell me." Elliot sarcastically responded.

"Huh, do I?" Jameson grunted, with a confused look on his face.

"Yup, sure do, didn't used to though" Elliot said, showing his phone to Jameson, with an Instagram page open of someone called 'Jamie'. "This kinda looks like you doesn't it?"

"It is me.... I think" Jameson responded, but I can't remember the past couple of months, I think I got an invitation to go to a new school, but can't remember."

Jameson's phone buzzed, he opened it to see 14 notifications from Matthew. "My boyfriend is worried about me, I should go see him."

"So you can remember you have a boyfriend, but can't remember the past couple months, yeah, seems really legit." Elliot scoffed, "Fine, go back, but don't expect me to help you later Jamie!"

Jameson started walking back to his shared dorm room, where he met with Matthew, whom he explained almost everything to, missing out the fact that on his way back here, memories came flooding back to him, he wasn't Jameson, he was Jamie, and he wanted to leave...

That night, after Matthew had fallen asleep, Jamie lay in bed, thinking about how he would leave this place, meet up with Elliot and escape together...

The two texted all night, coming up with the perfect plan, or what they thought to be perfect.

He planned to wake up at 4:00, before anyone else in the school, sneak out and make his way out the back.

4:00 slowly came round after what felt like an eternity, Jamie couldn't sleep, he was too nervous.

He got up, quietly packed his bag, slowly snuck out of his room and tip-toed down the stairs. But, to his surprise, he bumped into something, which wasn't just something. It turned out to be Julian, who was out there waiting for him. "Going somewhere?" He questioned.

"Just out for a morning stroll" He hesitantly responded, Jamie thought Julian didn't wake up until 5:00....

"You're not trying to leave are you... Jamie?"

Jamie stopped in his tracks, frozen, he turned to make eye contact with Julian, who still had that staple Stepford smile plastered over his face. "What if I am? Don't you see that we are trapped here?!"

"But are we? Are we really trapped? If it's what we wanted all along, would you really have been able to stay all this time, just on someone else's orders?"

Confused, Jamie stumbled, tripped over, and landed in Matthew's arms. "Don't leave me Jameson, I love you..."

Jamie felt this feeling of calmness, like everything was going to be okay, as he stared into Matthew's eyes, as he took him back to their room.

Matthew laid Jamie on the bed, put some headphones over his ears, and turned the TV on. The TV begin to show a large spiral, Matthew left the room, and returned in 10 minutes, asking Jamie, "Who are you?"

"I am your boyfriend, Jameson. We attend Preppy Academy, we learn under our Sir, Xander, I love it here, and I love you." Jameson responded, never sounding more like a robot than in this moment, as his signature smile slowly returned.

Within that moment, Xander appeared from outside, he did not look pleased.

"Fix this mess, convert the boy, pretend to flee with him, use this to drug him and bring him back to me. Understand?"

"Yes... Sir" Jameson groaned.

5:00 Rolled around as Jameson left the academy, to fulfil his plan with Elliot, and also his plan with Xander. He opened the doors to see Elliot waiting for him.

"Took you long enough" Elliot moaned as he turned around to start waking.

All Jameson could do was let out a slight chuckle, "I had to use the bathroom" he said, trying not to alert him.

"Whatever, come on, they'll be up soon."

Elliot and Jameson ran to the back of the academy, threw their bags over the wall, while Elliot began to push a large bush away, revealing a small hole in the surrounding fence.

"We can get out through here" Elliot said, starting to crawl through.

"But... what if we stayed?" Jameson chanted, grabbing Eliot's leg and pulling him back through the hole. "Stay with us, it's your calling" he said with his signature smile, holding up a syringe, before pushing it into Elliot's neck, making him fall drowsy.

Jameson stepped back, while Julian ran over, he was just waiting nearby, in the surrounding forest area. He took Elliot's body into the school, and told Jameson to go back to his room and wait for him to return, which he did without question.

Back at Jameson's room, the time reached 19:00, he had remained in there the whole day, until a knock at his door alerted him.

He answered it, and there stood Julian, "You can come downstairs now, we have finished with the boy. He is ready."

Jameson followed Julian as they marched downstairs, only to be met by Elliot, now with a freshly pressed suit, blinding smile on his face, and neatly styled hair.

"Hello again, I have chosen to align." Elliot said, robotically, matching his tone to all the other students.

"I have been assigned to the garden, to make sure the perimeter of the school is safe and secure, we wouldn't want anything getting in would we? Ha... ha... ha..."

[hypnosubtyler]

Welcome to Preppy Academy

Jamie had always lived in the in-between. Not quite polished, not quite dishevelled, he moved through life with a kind of passive detachment that made him hard to place. In his mid-twenties, with a wardrobe made up mostly of jeans and half-washed hoodies, he carried himself like someone who hadn’t yet decided what kind of man he wanted to become. He wasn’t unhappy exactly, but there was a quiet, persistent ache in his life, like he had missed an invitation to something better and never got the chance to ask for a second one.

He worked odd jobs, drifted through friendships, and kept to a small, safe routine that never really asked much of him. Still, Jamie was observant. He watched people closely. He saw the way others seemed to belong to things: groups, careers, aesthetics, identities. He longed for that kind of certainty. So when the invitation to tour the Preppy Academy arrived, an actual envelope, clean white with embossed lettering, something stirred in him. A sense that perhaps this was the invitation he’d been waiting for.

Jamie made his way to the open day and when he arrived he was instantly amazed at what he saw, the building itself looked so majestic, like it was once a castle, now turned into a school used to educate the future royals. The archway at the main gate was so grand, with the name of the school built into it. Jamie looked around his surroundings and saw many of the current students, all male, all walking around in perfectly tailored suits. The only ones not in formal attire seemed to be the people playing on the tennis courts, but they were all wearing neatly ironed polo shirts and clean trainers. Jamie couldn't help but be impressed, he wandered around the outside of the building for a while, waiting for his scheduled tour which seemed to be with a man named Julian.

As the minutes past, Jamie started to feel like this place was a bit too much for him, a bit too formal, but he would still stick around for the tour, he was personally invited after all. Julian soon walked up, dressed in an elegant shirt and jacket, perfectly styled hair, with a smile on his face that made Jamie feel quite uncomfortable.

"Welcome gentlemen, welcome to the Preppy Academy, a place where boys learn to become not just men... but gentlemen." Julian said with a slight robotic tone to his voice. He waves the group on to follow him inside. They enter into the grand hallway, where pictures of students from over the past centuries are displayed, showing how far they came from where they used to be when they started school. They came to an empty lecture hall where Julian stopped them. "This lecture hall is where we gather every day to learn about what it takes to become a true gentleman, from etiquette, to improving our language skills, everything that you will learn will be done here. Well.... most of what you will learn", Julian looked over to Jamie and gave him a little wink.

Julian let the group have a look around the lecture hall for a couple minutes and Jamie took the opportunity to take a seat on one of the benches, it was so soft that it almost swallowed him whole. Jamie thought this place was amazing by the letter and the look of the building, but he couldn't stop thinking that something was off, the way Julian was speaking, the way he smiled and the way he turned over to wink which made it feel like he was speaking only to him and that the other tour guests didn't matter to him...

Julian called out for the group to reconvene as they were to head to the dining hall next, and as they were walking down the grand hallway, Jamie couldn't help but notice that there were so many locked doors down the hallway, with multiple latches and keyholes which made him wonder what they were trying to keep hidden in there from everyone. As they continued walking down the hallway, Jamie walked past a current student, with the same smile as Julian, and decided to ask him a couple questions.

"Hey there" Jamie said in a cheerful manner, "This place is a bit creepy don't you think?"

"Not at all." The student said, again, with a robotic voice and stiff movements.

"O...kay then... what's your name?" Jamie asked taking a step back.

"I am referred to as Matthew." Matthew spoke as if he'd rehearsed this in the mirror this morning.

"What do you do in the summer break when you get to go home Matthew?" Jamie asked, with a bit more confidence in his voice.

"There is no break from the Preppy Academy." Matthew chanted, "You'll see in time, I have done was has been asked of me, goodbye Jamie."

"What??? I didn't even tell you my name... did I?" Jamie's feeling of unease got more intense but he continued down the hallway to the dining hall...

When he got there, he joined the back of his small group as they were leaving. "We missed you Jamie." Julian said, without even turning around to look at him. Jamie thought there was no way he could tell he wasn't here but chose to ignore it, maybe Julian was more astute than he originally thought.

They continued their tour upstairs, and were led to a large room with many adjoining rooms which was referred to as the cosmetology chamber. "This is where we come to look our best and make sure we are dressed to perfection." Julian said to everyone. Jamie saw Matthew in one of the barber chairs at the other end of the room and shouted out to him, "Hey mate!" he said with a smile. But all Matthew did was raise his hand, and wave it back and forth 4 times, before lowering it and turning his chair back around, picking up some hair gel and styling is hair.

Julian clapped his hands softly to regain the group’s attention. “Shall we proceed?” he said with that same ever-pleasant tone. Jamie lingered for a moment, eyeing the array of grooming tools and perfectly aligned combs, before following the others through a tall set of white double doors at the far end of the chamber. As they walked, Jamie noticed a faint humming sound, steady, low, almost like a machine running behind the walls. He tried to shake the unease off, but it clung to him like static.

"Are these classrooms too?" Jamie asked, noticing how there was an obscenely high number of these rooms down every hallway.

"In a way." Julian said with a wide smile, "but not everyone is ready for them yet."

As they exited the corridor of golden-lit doors, the group stepped through a final archway and out into the bright open air. Jamie squinted against the sunlight, momentarily caught off guard by how pristine and controlled the outside looked, almost like a movie set. The grass was impossibly green, the hedges trimmed into perfect symmetry, and the fountains gurgled softly as if on cue.

“This,” Julian said, gesturing grandly, “is our central courtyard. The heart of Preppy Academy. A place for reflection, order, and above all, unity.”

The students around Jamie stood still, looking forward in unison, hands clasped behind their backs. He glanced around. No one shifted. No one checked a phone. It was like time had stopped.

Julian turned to Jamie with a brighter than usual smile and reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. “For you,” he said, pulling out a crisp white envelope sealed with an embossed gold crest. “A personal invitation to tonight’s Grand Assembly Banquet.”

Jamie took it slowly, frowning slightly. The envelope felt heavier than expected, and cold to the touch.

“What exactly is the banquet?” he asked, trying to mask his unease.

Julian tilted his head slightly, that same unfaltering smile fixed in place. “A tradition. A celebration of refinement. You’ll want to look your best.”

Then, as if rehearsed, the students began walking away from the courtyard all at once, leaving Jamie standing there with the envelope still in his hand, the school crest catching the light.

Jamie spent the next couple hours looking round the school outskirts, thinking about the upcoming banquet. He thought he was dressed appropriately enough with his best t-shirt and jeans on so he felt fine going like this.

When the time came to attend the banquet, he walked into the main dining hall and sat in his assigned seat, and to his surprise, Matthew was already waiting for him in the seat next to him, as well as Julian sat opposite him. Both of them didn't even acknowledge Jamie when he sat down, and Julian looked as if he was staring right through him. Neither responded to him when he said hello to them so he just turned around to have a look at what was going on. There were at least 20 tables of men, all dressed in perfectly fitted suits and ties, all with perfect hair, and all with perfect smiles.

The starter was already waiting on the long, gleaming table when Jamie arrived, a small, symmetrical arrangement of greens, poached pear, and something that looked like a glaze too glossy to be real. The dining hall itself was immaculate, with walls lined in rich oak panelling and chandeliers casting warm light over the dozen identically dressed men seated on either side. As Jamie took his seat near the middle, he noticed no one speaking. Then, at once, every fork was lifted, every knife drawn, and the sound of utensils meeting porcelain rang out in perfect, mechanical unison. They all chewed at the same pace, postures stiff, eyes forward.

Jamie froze, his fork hovering above his plate. He forced himself to take a bite just to avoid standing out, but the pressure was building in his chest like a coiled spring. He tried to meet someone’s gaze, tried to catch a flicker of individuality in the eyes of the men beside him, but all he saw were serene, empty expressions. The food tasted like nothing. He felt like he was the only person in the room who still remembered what real conversation sounded like. As he swallowed, Jamie realized with sudden clarity: he needed to find a way out of there, and soon.

Jamie felt the most uncomfortable he had ever felt now, but when he attempted to get up to leave, a hand touched his shoulder and pushed it back down into the chair, "stay a little longer, please" A deep voice said from behind him. When Jamie turned to look at the man, he was taken aback by what he saw, a perfectly dressed and groomed slightly older man who seemed to stare straight into his soul.

"Jamie is it?" The man asked, with a voice that ran right through Jamie's body.

"Yeah that's me" Jamie responded with some attitude.

"My good boys have been telling me about you, how you were asking a lot of questions on the tour, would you like to come with me to find out what you're missing out on?" The man asked Jamie with a slight smile on his face which Jamie found pleasing since everyone else seemed to have such wide smiles.

Jamie thought he saw Julian and Matthew both jump and shake a little after the man started talking but took no notice of it "Yeah sure why not." Jamie said as he stood up, and he got a glimpse of Matthew's lap, which now had quite a large wet patch on it, which Jamie put down to him just spilling some water on himself earlier.

As the two were walking out of the room, Jamie asked the man's name to which he responded by saying, "Xander, but most around here call me Sir."

"Alright Xander, where are we off to then?" Jamie confidently said, trying now to show his fear to Xander.

"We are going to one of those rooms you were so desperate to know about." Xander said with a smile.

As they reached one of the rooms, Xander asked Jamie to hand his phone over, talking about how these rooms are supposed to be private and confidential and about how he mustn't tell anyone about them. Jamie agreed, feeling cornered and having his curiosity taking over him. Xander opened the door and Jamie stepped in, bewildered and confused, he thought these rooms would have old pieces of art or furniture in them but all there is is a chair.

"Won't you take a seat?" Xander uttered, leading Jamie to the chair and pushing him down into it, where the chair immediately strapped Jamie in, and got tighter the more he struggled to escape.

"What's going on? What are you doing to me?" Jamie screamed, wriggling about in the chair in a futile attempt to flee.

"What you wanted, everyone fits in eventually, some just take more time" Xander said as he placed a VR Headset and a pair of headphones onto Jamie.

Xander took a step back, watching Jamie's body become limper as he fell into a trance, while the headphones buzzed the perfect frequency and the headset displayed images and commands of the right lifestyle to live, the lifestyle that Jamie will succumb to eventually.

"BECOME A PREPPY BOY"

"DRESS PREPPY"

"SPEAK PREPPY"

"ACT PREPPY"

"BECOME A PREPPY BOY"

"PREPPY BOYS ARE OBEDIENT BOYS"

"OBEDIENT BOYS ARE PREPPY BOYS"

The headset went on this loop for around 2 hours until it finally ended, Jamie just sat in the chair, looking like he'd been asleep for years, not remembering anything that had happened or why he was sat there.

"Now boy, are you prepared for your grooming session?"

"Yes, Sir" Jamie said, questioning himself in his mind as to why he talked like that, just assuming it was a slip of the tongue.

Jamie and Xander left the room and went upstairs to the cosmetology chamber, where Julian was waiting for them, "ah brother! Welcome! I am here to make you look the part!" Julian exclaimed with the same large smile on his face as before.

Without even thinking about it, Jamie walked up to Julian who motioned for him to take a seat in the barbers chair, Jamie instinctively did, and as he sat down and closed his eyes, Julian immediately got to work, Xander watching on in the background.

After 30 minutes, Julian said he was finished, Jamie opened his eyes and looked at his new hairstyle, it was no longer messy, each hair had its own place and each of them worked together to stay up in uniform. Jamie couldn't help but show a little smile when looking at his new hairstyle. But Julian wasn't finished just yet, he had to style it, so he opened a locked box under the chair, and pulled out a hair pomade with the label, "MIND ALTERING PRODUCT" and with a smile, applied it to Jamie's hair, which made his mind become blank, and allowed him to be at ease and relax.

"Very good" Xander said with a deep voice, "Julian, you know what to do next, proceed as I pick up his new friend."

"Yes Sir" Julian robotically said, his smile never faltering.

"Good boy" Xander uttered as he left the room, which made Julian shake a bit, another wet patch forming on his trousers, but this time, Jamie doesn't even take notice.

Julian led Jamie into one of the adjoining rooms, which were filled with a large amount of shirts, trousers, blazers, ties and shoes.

"Dress yourself if you please" Julian chanted.

Jamie didn't even respond, he walked into the room, and watched Julian close the doors, his smile glittering through the doors until they completely closed. Jamie looked around for a while, and decided to put on a particular suit, which he thought would make him look more like a gentleman.

As Jamie put on each item of clothing, he felt his smile grow wider, but this didn't worry him, he sub-consciously knew that this is what was right, he didn't know why but he felt like being a 'Preppy Boy' would be good for him.

As Jamie emerged from the room, Julian welcomed him with a firm handshake, led him outside into the hallway where Xander was waiting for him.

"Greetings Sir" Jamie instinctively said

"Just a few moments now" Xander responded, looking Jamie up and down, "you look better now don't you think?"

"Yes Sir."

After 2 minutes, a familiar face walked up the stairs and towards them, "Jamie, you should remember Matthew, I had him ready for you, I had him bump into you on your tour so that you would be acquainted before this moment. You two will be the new couple on campus, showing everyone how to have a proper relationship, do you think you can handle that?"

"Yes Sir" Jamie and Matthew said in unison, they hugged each other, as Matthew led Jamie to his dorm room, where he was instructed to make love to him all night long.

"Oh, and Jamie... you go by Jameson now, feels more you doesn't it?" Xander whispered into his ear.

"Yes Sir" Jameson responded, robotically.

Jameson and Matthew headed back to Matthew's room, where they both took their shirts off the moment they walked in. They both knew that this is what it took to show Xander that they were following his plans. They had to make love to fulfil their love for each other. To show everyone at Preppy Academy what a real relationship was like... maybe it would entice others to join too.

The early morning light crept over the spires and rooftops of the Preppy Academy, casting long shadows across the immaculately trimmed hedges and marble walkways. Within the dormitory, Jameson stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting the sharp lapels of his blazer with quiet precision. The gold-accented crest of the Academy gleamed on his breast pocket. Behind him, Matthew was tucking in his shirt, his movements methodical, deliberate, and without hurry.

Neither of them spoke much in the mornings. There wasn’t any need to, the rhythm of their days was established, clean and controlled. As Jameson slipped on his loafers and checked his part one last time, Matthew gave him a subtle nod before they left the room and descended the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing lightly through the corridor.

Waiting at the bottom, Julian stood near the stained-glass windows, already radiant in his navy suit.

His posture was as impeccable as ever, his smile flawless, just like it had been on Jamie’s first day here. But now, Jameson returned that smile with ease.

“Gentlemen,” Julian said smoothly, “I trust your night was... harmonious.”

“Of course,” Jameson replied, nodding politely. “Everything is as it should be.”

“Sir,” Matthew added respectfully, before excusing himself. He turned down a side hallway that led away from the public wings of the academy and toward one of the secured, softly lit doors — the kind no visitor ever saw. It was time for his scheduled tuning. They all underwent it from time to time, just to ensure alignment. Just to keep the edges sharp and the smiles real.

"Greeting Sir" They heard from the end of the hall, Matthew going into the room, ready for his tuning session with Xander.

Jameson continued through the foyer, past the polished marble statue of the Academy’s founder and through the grand double doors, which opened with a quiet hiss into the crisp morning air. The front courtyard was perfectly manicured, just like everything else here. Beyond the ornate black gates, a sleek black van had just parked. A small group of prospective students was stepping out, squinting at the building’s size, their nervous laughter cutting softly through the stillness.

Jameson scanned them with professional detachment, the overpacked duffel bags, the mismatched casual wear, the expressions of mild disbelief. All of it was familiar. Expected. He noted the slight lag of one figure behind the group, a man in his early twenties with unkempt curls and a hoodie that looked two washes too late. Kyle.

Julian had pointed him out in advance. The plan was simple: an accidental bump near the library, a brief conversation, the seed planted. Nothing overt. Nothing rushed. These things worked best when the subject thought it was all his own idea.

Jameson straightened his tie, pulled his shoulders back, and stepped forward. He could already hear the tour-guide voice slipping into place, warm and smooth, just the right balance of inviting and commanding.

“Welcome to the Preppy Academy,” he called out, as the group turned to face him.

He smiled, just as Julian had taught him.

“Let me show you everything we have to offer.”

[hypnosubtyler]

Trouble at Preppy Academy

Jameson woke up at precisely 6:00 AM, the soft chime of the Academy’s morning bell echoing through the dormitory like a lullaby played in reverse. He blinked twice, slowly, then sat up with practiced grace. The room was already faintly glowing with warm morning light filtering through sheer cream curtains. Everything was exactly where it should be, clothes pressed, shoes shined, schedule laminated and clipped on the back of the door.

Across the room, Matthew was already standing by the mirror, methodically applying product to his hair with a small, precise comb. Each motion was deliberate, mechanical, efficient. Jameson said nothing, just rose and crossed to his own station.

The two men worked in silence, side by side. Their reflections moved in near unison, brushing teeth, styling hair, adjusting their shirtsleeves. The air between them was calm but stiff, like two wind-up dolls performing their morning protocol. Jameson parted his hair, aligned his collar, and spritzed his aftershave once. Exactly once.

“Today’s schedule is unchanged,” Matthew said evenly, without looking away from the mirror.

Jameson nodded. “Understood.”

Downstairs, the hall was already beginning to stir. The scent of polished wood, linen, and faint cologne hung in the air as Jameson and Matthew descended the main staircase together, footsteps perfectly synchronized on the marble.

At the foot of the stairs stood Julian, clipboard in hand, lips curled into his signature smile, the kind that never quite touched his eyes.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he said smoothly. “Everything in order?”

“Yes, sir,” Jameson replied.

Julian gave an approving nod. “Excellent. We have a new cohort arriving this morning. I expect you to represent the Academy with full decorum. Lead the tour, answer questions, but only as instructed.”

Jameson met his eyes. “Understood. Do we know how many?”

“Six,” Julian said, flipping a page on his clipboard. “Five who will fall in line. And one... with potential. But we’ll see. We always do.”

Jameson felt a flicker of something, curiosity? Anxiety?, but buried it with a practiced breath. He gave a crisp nod and turned toward the entrance.

The iron gates would open soon. And someone new would walk through them.

Someone who didn’t yet understand what it meant to belong.

"Welcome all prospective students!" Jameson said with the same smile on his face he had on yesterday, and the day before, and for as long as he could remember.

"What the fuck's this, Hogwarts?" somebody muttered at the back of the crowd.

"So much better... more than you could ever imagine" Jameson said, walking through the crowd to meet the man who spoke earlier.

"Name's Elliot mate." Elliot tutted, turning away from Jameson who was swiftly approaching him.

"Brilliant! Welcome Elliot, I am sure you will fit in just perfectly here." Jameson said, in the same monotone voice he always used for these tours.

"Doubt it...."

Jameson took his small group into the school, they walked past the main hall, walked past the many, many rehabilitation rooms scattered along the corridors.

"What are these then, why they all locked?" Elliot asked Jameson, aggressively.

"In due time, you may find out." Jameson responded, almost too quickly, as if he had been told what to say beforehand.

Jameson took his group to visit the reflection garden, where they were to meet up with Matthew, who would take them for a tour of the garden while Jameson goes to see Xander for his weekly tuning session.

As soon as they arrived at the garden, Jameson introduced his group to Matthew, who took over graciously, telling them all about the history of the garden and why they love coming here so much.

But Elliot wasn't interested in any of that, he snuck away from the group while Matthew's back was turned, and caught up with Jameson who had almost reached his scheduled appointment.

Jameson walked with purpose, his polished loafers tapping rhythmically against the stone corridor floor. The hallway was quiet, lined with portraits of former Academy alumni whose smiles seemed far too fixed. He turned a corner toward the west wing, the restricted wing, where only certain students were permitted during specific times.

“Hey!” a voice barked behind him. “Where are you off to?”

Jameson paused mid-step, slowly turning his head. Elliot was striding down the corridor toward him, eyes narrowed, and posture rigid like a coiled spring.

“I have an appointment,” Jameson said calmly, his tone smooth and level.

Elliot crossed his arms. “You lot really love being vague, don’t you? What kind of appointment? Why’s it in the part of the school that’s supposedly off-limits?”

Jameson blinked once. “It is my weekly self-improvement session, every student has one."

“Self-improvement appointment?” Elliot scoffed. His voice dipped into sarcasm, though his eyes were dead serious. “Every guy I’ve talked to here sounds like a Stepford clone. Including you.”

Jameson tilted his head slightly. “It ensures our optimal alignment with Academy expectations. It is necessary for excellence.”

Elliot snorted. “You hear yourself right now? You sound like someone’s feeding you lines through an earpiece. You don’t even blink when you talk.”

Jameson offered a placid smile. “You will come to understand in time. Resistance is simply a phase.”

“Well, I’m not interested in being ‘aligned,’ thanks,” Elliot snapped. “And I don’t trust you, or that Julian guy, or whoever’s behind that weird door with the blue light coming out from under it.”

Jameson took a step forward, calm as ever. “Curiosity is natural at first. But peace comes with structure. You’ll see.”

Elliot frowned, visibly frustrated. “What are you even going to do in there?”

Jameson looked at the heavy double doors ahead, then back at Elliot. “Become better.”

Elliot, infuriated, blocked the door from Jameson, "I'm not letting you in there mate, they're controlling you can't you see?!"

"Move, now. He will not be pleased." Jameson said, trying to force Elliot out of the way.

"Do you not hear yourself?!" Elliot shouted as he reached for the vase on the nearby table, before smashing it over Jameson's head, knocking him out cold.

Elliot, in a panic, put Jameson's limp body over his shoulder as he headed to the back of the school, where nobody ever went.

Two hours went by, Matthew returned to his dorm room at exactly 11:00, to which he was greeted by a phone call, "Hello."

"Matthew, where is Jameson?" A deep voice said from the other end.

"He is at his weekly tuning session Sir" Matthew said without hesitation.

"No, he never showed, and what's more, one of the perspective students is missing, Elliot. You were supposed to be taking care of them while Jameson was with me, you disappointed me Matthew."

Xander, the man on the other end, put the phone down, Matthew's face went bright red, he had never heard those words from Xander before, he became confused as he believed Jameson's will to conform was very strong.

Matthew went over the hall to Julian's room, told him about the call, and set out with Julian to search for Jameson.

Meanwhile, at the back of the school, Jameson was waking up, rubbing his head, "Where are we?"

"I dunno, you go to school here you tell me." Elliot sarcastically responded.

"Huh, do I?" Jameson grunted, with a confused look on his face.

"Yup, sure do, didn't used to though" Elliot said, showing his phone to Jameson, with an Instagram page open of someone called 'Jamie'. "This kinda looks like you doesn't it?"

"It is me.... I think" Jameson responded, but I can't remember the past couple of months, I think I got an invitation to go to a new school, but can't remember."

Jameson's phone buzzed, he opened it to see 14 notifications from Matthew. "My boyfriend is worried about me, I should go see him."

"So you can remember you have a boyfriend, but can't remember the past couple months, yeah, seems really legit." Elliot scoffed, "Fine, go back, but don't expect me to help you later Jamie!"

Jameson started walking back to his shared dorm room, where he met with Matthew, whom he explained almost everything to, missing out the fact that on his way back here, memories came flooding back to him, he wasn't Jameson, he was Jamie, and he wanted to leave...

That night, after Matthew had fallen asleep, Jamie lay in bed, thinking about how he would leave this place, meet up with Elliot and escape together...

The two texted all night, coming up with the perfect plan, or what they thought to be perfect.

He planned to wake up at 4:00, before anyone else in the school, sneak out and make his way out the back.

4:00 slowly came round after what felt like an eternity, Jamie couldn't sleep, he was too nervous.

He got up, quietly packed his bag, slowly snuck out of his room and tip-toed down the stairs. But, to his surprise, he bumped into something, which wasn't just something. It turned out to be Julian, who was out there waiting for him. "Going somewhere?" He questioned.

"Just out for a morning stroll" He hesitantly responded, Jamie thought Julian didn't wake up until 5:00....

"You're not trying to leave are you... Jamie?"

Jamie stopped in his tracks, frozen, he turned to make eye contact with Julian, who still had that staple Stepford smile plastered over his face. "What if I am? Don't you see that we are trapped here?!"

"But are we? Are we really trapped? If it's what we wanted all along, would you really have been able to stay all this time, just on someone else's orders?"

Confused, Jamie stumbled, tripped over, and landed in Matthew's arms. "Don't leave me Jameson, I love you..."

Jamie felt this feeling of calmness, like everything was going to be okay, as he stared into Matthew's eyes, as he took him back to their room.

Matthew laid Jamie on the bed, put some headphones over his ears, and turned the TV on. The TV begin to show a large spiral, Matthew left the room, and returned in 10 minutes, asking Jamie, "Who are you?"

"I am your boyfriend, Jameson. We attend Preppy Academy, we learn under our Sir, Xander, I love it here, and I love you." Jameson responded, never sounding more like a robot than in this moment, as his signature smile slowly returned.

Within that moment, Xander appeared from outside, he did not look pleased.

"Fix this mess, convert the boy, pretend to flee with him, use this to drug him and bring him back to me. Understand?"

"Yes... Sir" Jameson groaned.

5:00 Rolled around as Jameson left the academy, to fulfil his plan with Elliot, and also his plan with Xander. He opened the doors to see Elliot waiting for him.

"Took you long enough" Elliot moaned as he turned around to start waking.

All Jameson could do was let out a slight chuckle, "I had to use the bathroom" he said, trying not to alert him.

"Whatever, come on, they'll be up soon."

Elliot and Jameson ran to the back of the academy, threw their bags over the wall, while Elliot began to push a large bush away, revealing a small hole in the surrounding fence.

"We can get out through here" Elliot said, starting to crawl through.

"But... what if we stayed?" Jameson chanted, grabbing Eliot's leg and pulling him back through the hole. "Stay with us, it's your calling" he said with his signature smile, holding up a syringe, before pushing it into Elliot's neck, making him fall drowsy.

Jameson stepped back, while Julian ran over, he was just waiting nearby, in the surrounding forest area. He took Elliot's body into the school, and told Jameson to go back to his room and wait for him to return, which he did without question.

Back at Jameson's room, the time reached 19:00, he had remained in there the whole day, until a knock at his door alerted him.

He answered it, and there stood Julian, "You can come downstairs now, we have finished with the boy. He is ready."

Jameson followed Julian as they marched downstairs, only to be met by Elliot, now with a freshly pressed suit, blinding smile on his face, and neatly styled hair.

"Hello again, I have chosen to align." Elliot said, robotically, matching his tone to all the other students.

"I have been assigned to the garden, to make sure the perimeter of the school is safe and secure, we wouldn't want anything getting in would we? Ha... ha... ha..."

[hypnosubtyler]

Tyler wasn’t expecting a bus stop to smell like Monster energy and weed.

He stood just outside the off-license, suitcase wheels muddy, watching the bus pull away and disappear down the grey road. It was a nothing town, rows of tight red-brick terraces, a single kebab shop, a newsagent with posters faded to blue. The pavement was cracked. The sky looked like a dirty plate.

Still, the job was good. New start, clean break. Smart flat above a hair salon. Digital marketing for a construction firm just outside the industrial estate. It paid better than his last one in Surrey.

He adjusted his collar. Dark green jacket, tailored navy trousers, loafers. Hair combed back, sharp. He liked looking put together. It helped him feel like things might stay together, too.

Across the road, a group of lads leaned against the wall of a corner shop. Smoking. Loud. Trainers white, tracksuits black. One of them had a disposable vape tucked behind his ear like a pen. They were laughing about something, a video, maybe, phones out, heads together, the way men stand when they want you to know you’re not in on the joke.

Tyler didn’t look at them directly. But he could feel it: that sense of being observed. It crawled across the back of his neck. A flash of movement, a phone angled slightly in his direction. Was that the camera?

He stepped away from the curb.

Behind him, someone muttered, “Who the fuck’s that then?”

Another voice, louder,-thick, replied: “Must be new. Bit overdressed, ain’t he?”

Laughter followed. Something high-pitched and breathless, Tyler didn’t turn around.

He wheeled his case toward his flat. He told himself not to care.

Tyler reached his new home, it wasn't as big as his last one, but he'd make do. The new job was supposed to change his life, finally help him move up in the world, but he thought it was a shame it had to be somewhere like this...

The next day came, Tyler went to work, had his first day and thought he's look for somewhere nice to eat, but he wasn't having much look and decided to head to the kebab shop down the road of his apartment.

Tyler pushed open the door of the kebab shop, the smell of fried onions hitting him like a wall. He was just grabbing a late dinner before heading back upstairs.

Outside, leaning against the lamppost, were two of the lads from earlier, Kyle and Liam.

Kyle was a man in his mid 20s, with slicked back brown hair that shone in the dead of night from all the gel he used. He would always wear his Canada Goose parka no matter the weather, and would never be seen without his gold chain on. Kyle was the undisputed member of their group of lads.

Liam was Kyle's second in command, in his early 20s and always been very impressionable, had always looked up to him and was honoured when Kyle asked him to hang out, but he was never the same since. Liam was a lot skinnier than Kyle, and would only wear a variety of tracksuits.

“Oi, you,” Kyle called, nodding toward Tyler. “You new round here, yeah?”

Tyler hesitated but nodded. “Yeah, just started work.”

Liam grinned, showing too-white teeth. “Saw you on the bus earlier. Proper posh, mate. What’s your name?”

“Tyler.”

“Kyle. Liam.” They stepped closer, the space suddenly tighter.

“So, Tyler, you got Snapchat? We gotta keep up, innit.”

Tyler blinked, unsure but nodded. “Yeah, it’s… tyler_h.”

Kyle laughed. “Safe. We’ll add you.”

Liam pulled out his phone, fingers already tapping.

Tyler walked back to his apartment, and received a notification on Snapchat from a user named "Kyle_is_King", he clicked on it and all it said was "Sup mate, good to meet u before at the kebab shop. we are gonna love gettin to kno u bruv".

Tyler ignored it, and went to his bedroom to eat his food, before heading to bed to go back to work tomorrow.

Tyler woke up, did his usual routine, left for work, was walking to the office before he bumped into someone.

As Tyler rounded the corner of the high street, his shoulder brushed against someone coming the opposite way. He turned quickly.

“Excuse me,” he said, stepping aside. “Didn’t see you there.”

The guy stopped, blinking slowly. “It’s fine,” he said, voice low and completely monotone. “You didn’t hit me that hard.”

Tyler recognised him instantly. Tall, sharp-featured, brown hair slicked back with brutal precision. Silver studs that glistened in the light. “I saw you the other day right, with Kyle and Liam?”

Although he was covered in tattoos, he didn't give off a tough guy vibe at all, in face Tyler felt safe speaking to him.

He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. I remember you. Tyler.”

Tyler smiled awkwardly. “Didn’t think I’d bump into anyone again so soon. Small town, huh? So what's your name then too?”

“Josh. And it's not that small,” Josh said, staring at him. “But yeah. You’ll get used to it.”

There was a brief silence. Josh’s gaze didn’t waver.

“You on your way somewhere?” Tyler asked, just to fill the air.

Josh nodded once. “Shop. Then home. Same as most days.”

Tyler chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.”

Josh didn’t smile. “Kyle said you’re alright. Liam too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“They think you’re interesting.” Josh paused, still speaking in the same flat tone. “I think you might be, too.”

Tyler wasn’t sure how to respond, but Josh was already shifting to leave.

“Anyway. See you around,” Josh said. Still no change in tone, like everything he said came out on the same setting.

“Yeah,” Tyler said, watching him go. “See you.”

That evening, Tyler was half-reclined on his couch, scrolling absently through his phone, still adjusting to the rhythm of his new town. A soft ping caught his attention, a new story notification on Snapchat. From Kyle.

Curious, Tyler tapped it open.

The screen went black for a second, then flickered into a slow, swirling spiral. Black and white lines twisted inward endlessly, turning in perfect rhythm, smooth and steady. No sound. Just the visual, clean, hypnotic, oddly compelling.

Tyler blinked. His thumb hovered over the screen, unsure whether to tap away. But he didn’t. The spiral kept turning.

He leaned in slightly.

Something about it tugged at his attention, like background noise suddenly cutting out. His mind felt quieter. A strange sense of calm washed over him, unearned and heavy.

The story ended abruptly after fifteen seconds.

Tyler sat back, blinking again, like he’d just come out of a daze. He checked the time. Only a few seconds had passed.

Weird.

He stared at the phone for a moment longer, brows faintly drawn, before locking the screen and setting it aside. Probably just some edgy joke, he told himself.

But somewhere behind his thoughts, the spiral still turned.

Tyler forgot about the story almost instantly, went about his day as usual, along with the next day. But as soon as Saturday came, he woke up, left the apartment and went straight to the corner shop where he saw Liam.

"Kyle want's to talk to you" Liam said, with a swagger in his stance, "will you come with me?"

Tyler resisted the idea at first, "No, I don't even know you guys, plus, I'm pretty sure you've been sending me weird stuff..."

Liam became slightly enraged, charged at Tyler, and hit him over the head with the beer can in his hand, dragging him over the road, to a closed down, old fish and chip chop, where Kyle would be waiting for him...

Hours passed before Tyler woke up, he found himself strapped to a chair, he opened his eyes to see Kyle standing over him.

"Finally awake are ya, didn't know Liam had it in him."

"What are you going to do to me?" Tyler shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Nothin much, just alter your mind a little, kind of what we did to Josh not so long ago, you remember him dont'ya? Sent him to bump into you a couple days ago, just to get him acquainted with his new boyfriend...."

"Wh-- What????" Tyler muttered before Kyle signalled Liam forwards, who put a VR headset over Tyler's eyes.

A spiral came up, similar to the one before, but this one came with words, text, voices and music.

OBEY

CONFORM

CHAV OUT

OBEY

DRINK

SMOKE

OBEY

Hours flew past, days went by, before the spiral was done, and Liam removed the headset, "Tyler. Kyle want's you to go home and meet him."

Tyler stood up without question, walked home, opened his bedroom door and saw Kyle stood waiting for him.

"Put this on, now."

"Yes SIr.

Tyler got undressed, Kyle grinned as he knew the spiral had worked, the story he sent him was just to weaken Tyler's mind, make him more susceptible to the real thing.

As Tyler was undressing, Kyle gave his arse a little slap, as he pulled the tracksuit over his body, and put on his new puffer jacket.

"You have a date with your boyfriend now don't you?"

"Yes Sir." Tyler chanted, you could see in his eyes how deep into hypnosis he was, before opening the door, walking to the local pub to meet with Josh.

The pub was low-lit and quiet, the soft glow of wall lamps reflecting off the polished wooden tables. Tyler and Josh sat near the back, away from the rest of the evening crowd. Their posture mirrored each other’s: straight-backed, still, composed. Both wore dark, shiny puffer jackets, clean trainers, hair perfectly slicked back with a glossy finish. Their faces were calm, eyes focused, not on each other, but on some quiet signal only they seemed to understand.

Josh took a slow sip from his pint. “This place is mint,” he said flatly, his voice level and unchanging.

Tyler nodded. “Yeah bruv.”

They barely looked at one another when they spoke. Conversation passed between them like lines in a script, measured, empty of emotion, but full of strange purpose.

“I like u a lot mush,” Josh said, blinking once, slowly.

“Same bruv” Tyler replied in the same monotone.

There was a pause. Neither of them fidgeted or checked their phones. Their silence was as controlled as their words, as though even the space between thoughts had been trained.

As they finished their drinks, they stood in unison.

Without discussion, they began the walk to Tyler’s flat. The streets were quiet now, the sky heavy and grey above. Their footsteps echoed lightly against the pavement.

Once inside, Tyler closed the door behind them. The flat was spotless, minimal. Josh stood silently near the sofa while Tyler retrieved his phone.

There was no hesitation as he opened Snapchat.

At the top of the app, glowing faintly as if waiting for them, was a new story from Kyle.

Josh sat. Tyler joined him.

The screen lit up.

The spiral began to turn.

And in perfect, soundless unity, they watched. Eyes fixed. Breath calm. Minds open.

Ready.

[hypnosubtyler]

Welcome to Preppy Academy

Jamie had always lived in the in-between. Not quite polished, not quite dishevelled, he moved through life with a kind of passive detachment that made him hard to place. In his mid-twenties, with a wardrobe made up mostly of jeans and half-washed hoodies, he carried himself like someone who hadn’t yet decided what kind of man he wanted to become. He wasn’t unhappy exactly, but there was a quiet, persistent ache in his life, like he had missed an invitation to something better and never got the chance to ask for a second one.

He worked odd jobs, drifted through friendships, and kept to a small, safe routine that never really asked much of him. Still, Jamie was observant. He watched people closely. He saw the way others seemed to belong to things: groups, careers, aesthetics, identities. He longed for that kind of certainty. So when the invitation to tour the Preppy Academy arrived, an actual envelope, clean white with embossed lettering, something stirred in him. A sense that perhaps this was the invitation he’d been waiting for.

Jamie made his way to the open day and when he arrived he was instantly amazed at what he saw, the building itself looked so majestic, like it was once a castle, now turned into a school used to educate the future royals. The archway at the main gate was so grand, with the name of the school built into it. Jamie looked around his surroundings and saw many of the current students, all male, all walking around in perfectly tailored suits. The only ones not in formal attire seemed to be the people playing on the tennis courts, but they were all wearing neatly ironed polo shirts and clean trainers. Jamie couldn't help but be impressed, he wandered around the outside of the building for a while, waiting for his scheduled tour which seemed to be with a man named Julian.

As the minutes past, Jamie started to feel like this place was a bit too much for him, a bit too formal, but he would still stick around for the tour, he was personally invited after all. Julian soon walked up, dressed in an elegant shirt and jacket, perfectly styled hair, with a smile on his face that made Jamie feel quite uncomfortable.

"Welcome gentlemen, welcome to the Preppy Academy, a place where boys learn to become not just men... but gentlemen." Julian said with a slight robotic tone to his voice. He waves the group on to follow him inside. They enter into the grand hallway, where pictures of students from over the past centuries are displayed, showing how far they came from where they used to be when they started school. They came to an empty lecture hall where Julian stopped them. "This lecture hall is where we gather every day to learn about what it takes to become a true gentleman, from etiquette, to improving our language skills, everything that you will learn will be done here. Well.... most of what you will learn", Julian looked over to Jamie and gave him a little wink.

Julian let the group have a look around the lecture hall for a couple minutes and Jamie took the opportunity to take a seat on one of the benches, it was so soft that it almost swallowed him whole. Jamie thought this place was amazing by the letter and the look of the building, but he couldn't stop thinking that something was off, the way Julian was speaking, the way he smiled and the way he turned over to wink which made it feel like he was speaking only to him and that the other tour guests didn't matter to him...

Julian called out for the group to reconvene as they were to head to the dining hall next, and as they were walking down the grand hallway, Jamie couldn't help but notice that there were so many locked doors down the hallway, with multiple latches and keyholes which made him wonder what they were trying to keep hidden in there from everyone. As they continued walking down the hallway, Jamie walked past a current student, with the same smile as Julian, and decided to ask him a couple questions.

"Hey there" Jamie said in a cheerful manner, "This place is a bit creepy don't you think?"

"Not at all." The student said, again, with a robotic voice and stiff movements.

"O...kay then... what's your name?" Jamie asked taking a step back.

"I am referred to as Matthew." Matthew spoke as if he'd rehearsed this in the mirror this morning.

"What do you do in the summer break when you get to go home Matthew?" Jamie asked, with a bit more confidence in his voice.

"There is no break from the Preppy Academy." Matthew chanted, "You'll see in time, I have done was has been asked of me, goodbye Jamie."

"What??? I didn't even tell you my name... did I?" Jamie's feeling of unease got more intense but he continued down the hallway to the dining hall...

When he got there, he joined the back of his small group as they were leaving. "We missed you Jamie." Julian said, without even turning around to look at him. Jamie thought there was no way he could tell he wasn't here but chose to ignore it, maybe Julian was more astute than he originally thought.

They continued their tour upstairs, and were led to a large room with many adjoining rooms which was referred to as the cosmetology chamber. "This is where we come to look our best and make sure we are dressed to perfection." Julian said to everyone. Jamie saw Matthew in one of the barber chairs at the other end of the room and shouted out to him, "Hey mate!" he said with a smile. But all Matthew did was raise his hand, and wave it back and forth 4 times, before lowering it and turning his chair back around, picking up some hair gel and styling is hair.

Julian clapped his hands softly to regain the group’s attention. “Shall we proceed?” he said with that same ever-pleasant tone. Jamie lingered for a moment, eyeing the array of grooming tools and perfectly aligned combs, before following the others through a tall set of white double doors at the far end of the chamber. As they walked, Jamie noticed a faint humming sound, steady, low, almost like a machine running behind the walls. He tried to shake the unease off, but it clung to him like static.

"Are these classrooms too?" Jamie asked, noticing how there was an obscenely high number of these rooms down every hallway.

"In a way." Julian said with a wide smile, "but not everyone is ready for them yet."

As they exited the corridor of golden-lit doors, the group stepped through a final archway and out into the bright open air. Jamie squinted against the sunlight, momentarily caught off guard by how pristine and controlled the outside looked, almost like a movie set. The grass was impossibly green, the hedges trimmed into perfect symmetry, and the fountains gurgled softly as if on cue.

“This,” Julian said, gesturing grandly, “is our central courtyard. The heart of Preppy Academy. A place for reflection, order, and above all, unity.”

The students around Jamie stood still, looking forward in unison, hands clasped behind their backs. He glanced around. No one shifted. No one checked a phone. It was like time had stopped.

Julian turned to Jamie with a brighter than usual smile and reached into the inside pocket of his blazer. “For you,” he said, pulling out a crisp white envelope sealed with an embossed gold crest. “A personal invitation to tonight’s Grand Assembly Banquet.”

Jamie took it slowly, frowning slightly. The envelope felt heavier than expected, and cold to the touch.

“What exactly is the banquet?” he asked, trying to mask his unease.

Julian tilted his head slightly, that same unfaltering smile fixed in place. “A tradition. A celebration of refinement. You’ll want to look your best.”

Then, as if rehearsed, the students began walking away from the courtyard all at once, leaving Jamie standing there with the envelope still in his hand, the school crest catching the light.

Jamie spent the next couple hours looking round the school outskirts, thinking about the upcoming banquet. He thought he was dressed appropriately enough with his best t-shirt and jeans on so he felt fine going like this.

When the time came to attend the banquet, he walked into the main dining hall and sat in his assigned seat, and to his surprise, Matthew was already waiting for him in the seat next to him, as well as Julian sat opposite him. Both of them didn't even acknowledge Jamie when he sat down, and Julian looked as if he was staring right through him. Neither responded to him when he said hello to them so he just turned around to have a look at what was going on. There were at least 20 tables of men, all dressed in perfectly fitted suits and ties, all with perfect hair, and all with perfect smiles.

The starter was already waiting on the long, gleaming table when Jamie arrived, a small, symmetrical arrangement of greens, poached pear, and something that looked like a glaze too glossy to be real. The dining hall itself was immaculate, with walls lined in rich oak panelling and chandeliers casting warm light over the dozen identically dressed men seated on either side. As Jamie took his seat near the middle, he noticed no one speaking. Then, at once, every fork was lifted, every knife drawn, and the sound of utensils meeting porcelain rang out in perfect, mechanical unison. They all chewed at the same pace, postures stiff, eyes forward.

Jamie froze, his fork hovering above his plate. He forced himself to take a bite just to avoid standing out, but the pressure was building in his chest like a coiled spring. He tried to meet someone’s gaze, tried to catch a flicker of individuality in the eyes of the men beside him, but all he saw were serene, empty expressions. The food tasted like nothing. He felt like he was the only person in the room who still remembered what real conversation sounded like. As he swallowed, Jamie realized with sudden clarity: he needed to find a way out of there, and soon.

Jamie felt the most uncomfortable he had ever felt now, but when he attempted to get up to leave, a hand touched his shoulder and pushed it back down into the chair, "stay a little longer, please" A deep voice said from behind him. When Jamie turned to look at the man, he was taken aback by what he saw, a perfectly dressed and groomed slightly older man who seemed to stare straight into his soul.

"Jamie is it?" The man asked, with a voice that ran right through Jamie's body.

"Yeah that's me" Jamie responded with some attitude.

"My good boys have been telling me about you, how you were asking a lot of questions on the tour, would you like to come with me to find out what you're missing out on?" The man asked Jamie with a slight smile on his face which Jamie found pleasing since everyone else seemed to have such wide smiles.

Jamie thought he saw Julian and Matthew both jump and shake a little after the man started talking but took no notice of it "Yeah sure why not." Jamie said as he stood up, and he got a glimpse of Matthew's lap, which now had quite a large wet patch on it, which Jamie put down to him just spilling some water on himself earlier.

As the two were walking out of the room, Jamie asked the man's name to which he responded by saying, "Xander, but most around here call me Sir."

"Alright Xander, where are we off to then?" Jamie confidently said, trying now to show his fear to Xander.

"We are going to one of those rooms you were so desperate to know about." Xander said with a smile.

As they reached one of the rooms, Xander asked Jamie to hand his phone over, talking about how these rooms are supposed to be private and confidential and about how he mustn't tell anyone about them. Jamie agreed, feeling cornered and having his curiosity taking over him. Xander opened the door and Jamie stepped in, bewildered and confused, he thought these rooms would have old pieces of art or furniture in them but all there is is a chair.

"Won't you take a seat?" Xander uttered, leading Jamie to the chair and pushing him down into it, where the chair immediately strapped Jamie in, and got tighter the more he struggled to escape.

"What's going on? What are you doing to me?" Jamie screamed, wriggling about in the chair in a futile attempt to flee.

"What you wanted, everyone fits in eventually, some just take more time" Xander said as he placed a VR Headset and a pair of headphones onto Jamie.

Xander took a step back, watching Jamie's body become limper as he fell into a trance, while the headphones buzzed the perfect frequency and the headset displayed images and commands of the right lifestyle to live, the lifestyle that Jamie will succumb to eventually.

"BECOME A PREPPY BOY"

"DRESS PREPPY"

"SPEAK PREPPY"

"ACT PREPPY"

"BECOME A PREPPY BOY"

"PREPPY BOYS ARE OBEDIENT BOYS"

"OBEDIENT BOYS ARE PREPPY BOYS"

The headset went on this loop for around 2 hours until it finally ended, Jamie just sat in the chair, looking like he'd been asleep for years, not remembering anything that had happened or why he was sat there.

"Now boy, are you prepared for your grooming session?"

"Yes, Sir" Jamie said, questioning himself in his mind as to why he talked like that, just assuming it was a slip of the tongue.

Jamie and Xander left the room and went upstairs to the cosmetology chamber, where Julian was waiting for them, "ah brother! Welcome! I am here to make you look the part!" Julian exclaimed with the same large smile on his face as before.

Without even thinking about it, Jamie walked up to Julian who motioned for him to take a seat in the barbers chair, Jamie instinctively did, and as he sat down and closed his eyes, Julian immediately got to work, Xander watching on in the background.

After 30 minutes, Julian said he was finished, Jamie opened his eyes and looked at his new hairstyle, it was no longer messy, each hair had its own place and each of them worked together to stay up in uniform. Jamie couldn't help but show a little smile when looking at his new hairstyle. But Julian wasn't finished just yet, he had to style it, so he opened a locked box under the chair, and pulled out a hair pomade with the label, "MIND ALTERING PRODUCT" and with a smile, applied it to Jamie's hair, which made his mind become blank, and allowed him to be at ease and relax.

"Very good" Xander said with a deep voice, "Julian, you know what to do next, proceed as I pick up his new friend."

"Yes Sir" Julian robotically said, his smile never faltering.

"Good boy" Xander uttered as he left the room, which made Julian shake a bit, another wet patch forming on his trousers, but this time, Jamie doesn't even take notice.

Julian led Jamie into one of the adjoining rooms, which were filled with a large amount of shirts, trousers, blazers, ties and shoes.

"Dress yourself if you please" Julian chanted.

Jamie didn't even respond, he walked into the room, and watched Julian close the doors, his smile glittering through the doors until they completely closed. Jamie looked around for a while, and decided to put on a particular suit, which he thought would make him look more like a gentleman.

As Jamie put on each item of clothing, he felt his smile grow wider, but this didn't worry him, he sub-consciously knew that this is what was right, he didn't know why but he felt like being a 'Preppy Boy' would be good for him.

As Jamie emerged from the room, Julian welcomed him with a firm handshake, led him outside into the hallway where Xander was waiting for him.

"Greetings Sir" Jamie instinctively said

"Just a few moments now" Xander responded, looking Jamie up and down, "you look better now don't you think?"

"Yes Sir."

After 2 minutes, a familiar face walked up the stairs and towards them, "Jamie, you should remember Matthew, I had him ready for you, I had him bump into you on your tour so that you would be acquainted before this moment. You two will be the new couple on campus, showing everyone how to have a proper relationship, do you think you can handle that?"

"Yes Sir" Jamie and Matthew said in unison, they hugged each other, as Matthew led Jamie to his dorm room, where he was instructed to make love to him all night long.

"Oh, and Jamie... you go by Jameson now, feels more you doesn't it?" Xander whispered into his ear.

"Yes Sir" Jameson responded, robotically.

Jameson and Matthew headed back to Matthew's room, where they both took their shirts off the moment they walked in. They both knew that this is what it took to show Xander that they were following his plans. They had to make love to fulfil their love for each other. To show everyone at Preppy Academy what a real relationship was like... maybe it would entice others to join too.

The early morning light crept over the spires and rooftops of the Preppy Academy, casting long shadows across the immaculately trimmed hedges and marble walkways. Within the dormitory, Jameson stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting the sharp lapels of his blazer with quiet precision. The gold-accented crest of the Academy gleamed on his breast pocket. Behind him, Matthew was tucking in his shirt, his movements methodical, deliberate, and without hurry.

Neither of them spoke much in the mornings. There wasn’t any need to, the rhythm of their days was established, clean and controlled. As Jameson slipped on his loafers and checked his part one last time, Matthew gave him a subtle nod before they left the room and descended the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing lightly through the corridor.

Waiting at the bottom, Julian stood near the stained-glass windows, already radiant in his navy suit.

His posture was as impeccable as ever, his smile flawless, just like it had been on Jamie’s first day here. But now, Jameson returned that smile with ease.

“Gentlemen,” Julian said smoothly, “I trust your night was... harmonious.”

“Of course,” Jameson replied, nodding politely. “Everything is as it should be.”

“Sir,” Matthew added respectfully, before excusing himself. He turned down a side hallway that led away from the public wings of the academy and toward one of the secured, softly lit doors — the kind no visitor ever saw. It was time for his scheduled tuning. They all underwent it from time to time, just to ensure alignment. Just to keep the edges sharp and the smiles real.

"Greeting Sir" They heard from the end of the hall, Matthew going into the room, ready for his tuning session with Xander.

Jameson continued through the foyer, past the polished marble statue of the Academy’s founder and through the grand double doors, which opened with a quiet hiss into the crisp morning air. The front courtyard was perfectly manicured, just like everything else here. Beyond the ornate black gates, a sleek black van had just parked. A small group of prospective students was stepping out, squinting at the building’s size, their nervous laughter cutting softly through the stillness.

Jameson scanned them with professional detachment, the overpacked duffel bags, the mismatched casual wear, the expressions of mild disbelief. All of it was familiar. Expected. He noted the slight lag of one figure behind the group, a man in his early twenties with unkempt curls and a hoodie that looked two washes too late. Kyle.

Julian had pointed him out in advance. The plan was simple: an accidental bump near the library, a brief conversation, the seed planted. Nothing overt. Nothing rushed. These things worked best when the subject thought it was all his own idea.

Jameson straightened his tie, pulled his shoulders back, and stepped forward. He could already hear the tour-guide voice slipping into place, warm and smooth, just the right balance of inviting and commanding.

“Welcome to the Preppy Academy,” he called out, as the group turned to face him.

He smiled, just as Julian had taught him.

“Let me show you everything we have to offer.”

[hypnosubtyler]

Be Careful Whose Door You Knock On

At the far end of a quiet cul-de-sac stood a house that didn’t quite belong. It was too grand for the neighbourhood, too old to have gone unnoticed, and yet most people seemed to forget it was there. Hidden behind wrought iron gates and trimmed hedges, the tall Georgian townhouse stood still, its windows always shut, its curtains drawn just enough to hint at candlelight within.

Some said the man who lived there was crazy. Others thought he was some kind of model. No one could say for sure, only that his name was Mr. Jackson, and that he always answered the door himself, no matter the hour.

This particular morning was grey and still, mist clinging low to the ground. Birds stayed silent. The only sound was the crunch of boots on gravel.

The postman, Andy, a man in his early twenties with earbuds in, trudged up the front path with a red bundle of letters tucked under one arm. He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. His route was long, his back was sore, and he had no time for weirdos.

He rang the bell.

It sounded deep and old, like it belonged to a cathedral more than a house.

Moments later, the door opened with perfect grace, no creak, no hesitation. And there stood Mr. Jackson.

He was tall, sharp-jawed, and dressed in a fitted t-shirt and black velvet dressing gown, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. His dark hair was swept neatly back, and not a thread of his appearance was out of place.

“Good morning,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “You’re early today.”

The postman blinked. “Uh... yeah. Got a full load this morning.” He held out the letters.

Mr. Jackson didn’t take them. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and locked eyes with the man. His eyes changed to a deep red colour, a colour which made Andy feel like he couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried.

“Come in for just a moment,” Mr. Jackson said, barely above a whisper. "I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

Andy hesitated for a moment.

The words weren’t forceful. They didn’t need to be. Something in those eyes made the thought of saying no feel... wrong. His fingers loosened on the mail bundle. He stepped forward, almost without realising it.

Mr. Jackson smiled faintly and opened the door wider.

“That's it,” he murmured. “Just a moment.”

And Andy stepped inside.

Mr. Jackson took Andy by the arm and started taking him into his basement.

"I've wanted you for a long time Andy, you will be a great benefit to me and my cause" Mr. Jackson softly whispered into his ear.

As the two got down into the basement, Mr. Jackson strapped Andy into a chair and put some headphones over his ears, outputting strong binaural beats, keeping his mind at bay.

Afterall, Mr. Jackson knew his own ability to hypnotise and control people was limited, and he needs 4 people to come together which will allow him to perform a ritual, and harness the power to strengthen his control and be able to take control of people permanently.

Leaving Andy down there, Mr. Jackson went upstairs to get ready for the day, in fact, he was expecting another delivery soon, he was expecting someone in just over an hour. Or what he would refer to as subject number 2...

After around 45 minutes, just as Mr. Jackson was finishing up getting ready, he saw his next victim had arrived. He quickly sorted his tie out, ready to head downstairs and greet his next guest.

It was, as he expected, his milkman that he had had for years now.

He had slowly been gathering information about him, he wanted to try and see if he could get him into his home without the need of controlling him.

The morning mist had begun to lift, leaving the street damp and quiet. The clink of glass bottles echoed faintly as Pete set down the last of the day’s deliveries. He was halfway back to his milk float when Mr. Jackson opened his front door.

“Pete,” Mr. Jackson called smoothly, one hand resting on the doorframe. “You’re early today.”

Pete turned, smiling politely. He was a good-looking man, sturdy build, neatly trimmed beard, with kind eyes that had grown a little more tired over the years. He wore a blue fleece and faded gloves. Always professional, always polite.

“Yes, Sir. Wanted to get ahead of the rain they said might roll in.”

Mr. Jackson gave a faint smile. “Thoughtful, as ever.”

Pete nodded. “Just doin’ the job, Sir.”

There was a pause. Mr. Jackson tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking over Pete with subtle interest.

“How’s the husband?” he asked gently.

Pete blinked in mild surprise, then smiled. “He’s good, Sir. Works nights mostly now. We don’t see each other as much as we’d like.”

“A shame,” Mr. Jackson said, stepping just a little closer. “No children, I recall?”

Pete shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No, Sir. We talked about it, years back. Just... wasn’t the right time. And now, well... I think it’s a bit late for all that.”

Mr. Jackson’s expression softened, though there was something calculating behind his gaze. “And how do you feel about that, Pete?”

Pete hesitated. “Dunno. Sometimes the quiet’s alright. Other times, feels like the house is too big. Like it’s echoing a bit.”

Mr. Jackson studied him for a moment, then said in a low, almost coaxing voice, “You do so much for others. Out in the cold every morning, keeping people’s lives ticking along. You ever get anything back, Pete?”

Pete laughed awkwardly. “Can’t say I think about it that way, Sir. I just try to keep things steady, you know?”

“Well,” Mr. Jackson said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “perhaps it’s time someone made you feel appreciated. Just for being you.”

Pete shifted on his feet, unsure of how to respond.

Mr. Jackson gestured gently toward the open door. “Why don’t you come in for a coffee? Warm up. You deserve ten quiet minutes, surely.”

Pete glanced at his float. “I really should finish my shift, Sir. Still got two streets left…”

Mr. Jackson’s voice dropped just slightly. “And they’ll still be there in ten minutes. Besides, I make an excellent espresso. No powdered stuff, I promise.”

Pete hesitated again. Then, after a pause, he smiled.

“Alright then, Sir. Just ten minutes.”

“Of course,” Mr. Jackson said, stepping aside as Pete walked past him into the house. “Just ten.”

The door closed behind them with a soft click, Mr. Jackson's eyes glowing in the reflection...

The sitting room was just as Pete imagined it would be, elegant, but not showy. Deep green walls lined with bookshelves, thick velvet curtains pulled halfway open to let in the misty morning light, and a fire glowing low in the hearth. Everything smelled faintly of sandalwood and something... older. Richer.

Pete sat cautiously on the edge of a leather armchair while Mr. Jackson moved with calm precision behind a walnut sideboard, preparing the coffee.

“You really do have a lovely place, Sir,” Pete said, glancing around.

Mr. Jackson gave a quiet laugh. “Thank you, Pete. I find that order helps with clarity. A tidy space, a tidy mind.”

He turned and handed Pete a porcelain cup and saucer, the coffee dark and steaming. The aroma was deep and smooth, with a strange floral note Pete couldn’t place.

“Cheers,” Pete said, taking it carefully. He sipped. “Bloody hell... that’s good.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Mr. Jackson replied, taking a seat opposite him. “Picked the beans up myself. A little corner of Guatemala. Something special about it.”

Pete nodded, taking another sip. “Tastes expensive. Makes the instant I have at home feel like drain water.”

They both chuckled.

“Does your husband drink coffee?” Mr. Jackson asked, folding one leg over the other.

Pete shrugged. “Not really. He’s more of a tea bloke. Only time we sit down proper lately is Sunday night. Rest of the time, it’s like ships in the night, you know?”

Mr. Jackson nodded sympathetically. “That must be lonely.”

Pete looked into the cup. “Yeah... sometimes, Sir. Not always. But sometimes.”

A pause settled between them, quiet and warm. Pete took another sip, then leaned back slightly in the chair. His eyelids fluttered just a little.

“You alright?” Mr. Jackson asked gently.

Pete blinked slowly. “Yeah... yeah, just warm in here, that’s all. Dunno the last time I sat down like this in the middle of my round.”

Mr. Jackson smiled. “You work hard, Pete. You give and give. It’s alright to rest.”

Pete nodded, though his head bobbed more than he intended. The room felt... thick. Soft. The light had dimmed slightly, or maybe his eyes were playing tricks. His arms felt heavy now, the cup in his hand growing lighter by the second.

“That coffee’s... strong,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

“It’s just relaxing you,” Mr. Jackson said. His voice was deeper now, slower, like the hum of a cello. “Helping you breathe. Helping you let go.”

Pete tried to answer, but it came out as a sigh. His head tipped to the side, and the porcelain cup slid gently from his hand onto the carpet, miraculously not breaking.

Mr. Jackson stood, walked slowly over, and knelt beside the sleeping man. He tilted Pete’s head slightly, studying his face, soft now, unguarded.

“Good,” he whispered. “Very good.”

Mr. Jackson took Pete, and dragged him to where he was keeping Andy.

He strapped him in and put on the headphones to keep his mind at ease while he waited for more people to come knocking on his door...

Mr. Jackson’s house was quietest in the early hours of the morning. It was then, as the rest of the world stirred with clumsy alarms and boiled kettles, that he descended the narrow steps to the basement, a place few had seen and none had left unchanged.

The hallway below was clean, clinical. Dimly lit sconces lined the stone walls, and a faint humming filled the air, a low, rhythmic pulse that vibrated in the bones more than the ears.

He always began with Adam, his first catch.

Room One.

Adam lay reclined on a leather chaise beneath soft amber light. Headphones, sleek and matte black, rested over his ears. A faint glow pulsed on the panel beside the bed, confirming the sequence was still running, identity unwinding, ego untangling, suggestion setting in.

Mr. Jackson leaned down, tilting Adam’s chin slightly with two fingers. The man’s eyes fluttered behind closed lids.

“Still drifting,” Mr. Jackson murmured approvingly. “Good.”

In Room Two, Pete lay similarly positioned. His face was softer now. Less furrowed. The headphones whispered gently to him, their contents never loud, never obvious, just calm instructions, layered beneath ambient tones.

Mr. Jackson placed a fresh smoothie beside Pete’s bed, protein-rich, pale green, faintly sweet. Easy to drink without thought.

He checked the wires, adjusted the volume just slightly, and paused to watch Pete’s chest rise and fall.

“You’re nearly ready,” he said softly.

He stood in the doorway a moment longer, then turned back toward the stairs, his footsteps soundless on the stone floor.

The door at the top closed gently behind him.

It had been too long now, Mr. Jackson thought he'd take matters into his own hands, went on Amazon and ordered a new pair of black headphones. He felt proud of himself, as he gets a 2 for 1 deal, a new guest as well as some headphones for him.

It was the next day, and Mr. Jackson was woken up by the doorbell, he thought the delivery wasn't until the afternoon but was impressed by how early he had shown up to deliver himself.

Mr. Jackson opened the door, shone his deep red eyes at him, and took him down the basement, claiming another, just needing one more.

Strapping the Amazon delivery driver to his chair, Mr. Jackson realised he hadn't even gotten his name, he usually liked to know his guests but he was becoming so impatient he didn't care as much anymore. Still, he made an effort to check his order delivery confirmation and check the driver's name, "Liam".

"Well Liam, welcome to your new life my boy...." Mr. Jackson said with a grin. He was so looking forward to the ritual that he decided to call another guest to his home.

He took out his phone and scheduled a pizza delivery for 17:00, he would use the time until then to prepare the ritual...

Night had settled thickly... A pale moon floated high above the rooftops, casting a cold silver sheen across the windows of Mr. Jackson’s house. From the outside, the townhouse appeared still, every lamp extinguished, every curtain drawn.

But inside, the quiet was purposeful.

Mr. Jackson moved with silent precision through the library, his gloved fingers brushing across the spines of old books until he found the one he required. A slim, leather-bound volume with no title. He opened it, scanned the passage, and closed it again without hesitation.

Tonight was not just maintenance. Not another check on the basement. Tonight was... a step forward.

In the drawing room, he had already cleared the central space. The furniture had been carefully pushed back, rugs rolled away to reveal the stone floor beneath, smooth and cold, far older than the building above. Even the hearth had been extinguished, the last of the embers carefully swept into a small copper bowl.

From a hidden cabinet, he retrieved the tools: a silver bowl, a fine brush, three thin black candles, and a glass vial containing a clear, liquid that shimmered when it moved.

He began by lighting the candles, placing them in a perfect triangle. Their flames flickered steady and tall, casting sharp, clean shadows on the walls. Then, kneeling between them, he opened the vial and let three drops fall into the bowl.

He dipped the brush into the mixture and began to draw on the floor, slow, looping shapes that looked meaningless at a glance but gradually took on form. Lines met at angles too perfect for the human eye to land on comfortably. Old symbols. Not language, but intention.

As he painted, he spoke under his breath. Not in Latin. Not in anything taught in schools. The words were old, private, and shaped to fit between the cracks of reality. Each one hung in the air like condensation.

By the time the sigil was complete, his eyes had begun to glow faintly, not enough to alarm, not enough to be unnatural, but enough to suggest that something had changed.

He stood, slow and calm, and looked toward the hallway that led down to the basement.

“They’re nearly ready,” he said, voice low but certain. “Soon, they will belong fully.”

He reached to the mantel, where a silver pocket watch lay open, ticking gently. Not tracking time, but waiting for the right moment.

And upstairs, as the wind gently rattled the panes of glass, the house seemed to hold its breath as the clock was about to strike 17:00...

At exactly 17:00, Brayden walked up the path to the front door of the house on his SatNav.

The wind had died. The world felt oddly muted, no passing cars, no birds, not even the low hum of distant conversation. Just Brayden’s footsteps on the stone and the soft crinkle of the thermal pizza bag against his hip.

He double-checked the receipt taped to the box.

“Mr. Jackson. Large meat feast. Extra stuffed crust. Prepaid.”

He raised a fist and knocked.

One solid knock.

And then... something strange.

He wasn’t sure how to describe it at first, not a sound, not a smell. More like a feeling brushing just behind his eyes. A warmth in his chest. Like stepping into a hot bath after a long shift. All at once, the tension in his shoulders dropped. His grip on the pizza box loosened.

Brayden blinked. The door hadn’t opened. No one had answered.

But still... he stepped forward.

The door eased open on its own. Slowly. Smoothly. No creak. Just enough for him to slip inside.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t call out. His usual customer instincts, announce the delivery, get a signature, move on, melted into nothing. He placed the pizza on the small hallway table without looking down.

His feet moved on their own. Past the drawing room. Past the silent staircase.

Toward the open door at the end of the hall.

The one that led down.

Down.

The walls of the stairwell were smooth stone. The light was soft and amber. Each step felt quieter than the last, as if the house itself muffled the sound.

Brayden didn’t feel afraid. He didn’t feel anything, really — not in the usual sense. Just a sense of peace. Like he was supposed to be here. Like he’d always meant to arrive.

The basement opened into a wide, warm chamber.

Waiting there, perfectly still, was Mr. Jackson, standing between three occupied chairs.

Adam. Pete. Liam.

Brayden’s eyes barely flicked across them before settling on Mr. Jackson.

“Welcome,” Mr. Jackson said quietly, his voice as smooth as polished wood.

Brayden said nothing.

He simply walked forward, and sat in the fourth chair.

The door above slowly shut.

And the ritual could continue.

Now, with all 4 of his guests gathered together, Mr. Jackson could complete the ritual. He got up and places a VR headset on Adam, Pete, Liam, and Brayden. All 4 of them started to moan as their minds were fading away, images were being shown to them on their headsets, the soft beats were still playing through their headphones, they would soon succumb to the pleasure, lose their ability to think for themselves and all look to Mr. Jackson as their one true master.

Mr. Jackson went over to Pete, his favourite, he had been thinking about it for a while and decided he needed a second in command, so he chose Pete... He took off Pete's headset to see how he was coming along with the process and he was very please with what he saw.

A blank mind, a mind that will do anything that it's told...

Mr. Jackson took the opportunity to finish the ritual by placing Pete in the middle of the sigil and speaking his new mantra to him.

"Okay Pete, repeat after me..."

“I belong to the house, and the house belongs to him. My mind is quiet, my purpose clear. Mr. Jackson shapes me, and I am better for it. I serve with pride, I obey with ease, I remain without question. His word is structure, his presence is order, his will is mine.”

In an instant, Pete's own eyes began to shine red, just like Mr. Jackson's. Mr. Jackson smiled heavily at this, he whispered into Pete's ear, "Listen to me carefully, finish off the transformations of the other boys, make sure to drill it into them that they report back to you and that you report everything back to me... I can't be doing all the dirty work around here after all..."

"Yes Sir" Pete chanted like a robot.

Mr. Jackson went upstairs to kick his feet up. He had worked so hard to get this far, and now he has 4 loyal men by his side that would do anything for him. Mr. Jackson knew it would take around an hour for all of them to be fully enslaved and change into their new uniforms, but the moment they are done, he knew Pete would be up to tell him and stay at his side waiting for his next instructions.

Mr. Jackson heard footsteps behind him and when he turned around was delighted at what he saw.

Pete, now completely under his control, ready to serve...

"Pete, repeat your mantra"

Pete repeated his mantra in a robotic voice:

“I belong to the house, and the house belongs to him. My mind is quiet, my purpose clear. Mr. Jackson shapes me, and I am better for it. I serve with pride, I obey with ease, I remain without question. His word is structure, his presence is order, his will is mine.”

"Show me that you belong to me Pete, open your eyes and show me that there is nothing left at all inside you..."

Pete opened his eyes which were just deep black, a sign the ritual had worked and that Mr. Jackson could now permanently enslave and control people.

A subtle knock at the door made Mr. Jackson grin, he opened the door to see a University student, going from door to door preaching the Bible and its teachings. "A minute of your time Sir?" The man asked.

"Pete!" Mr. Jackson called out.

Pete walked up slowly to the door, grabbed the man' from behind, and took him down into the basement, Mr. Jackson will have a new plaything by the end of the night...

[hypnosubtyler]

Wrong Turn, Right Place

“Oi, bruv, you sure this is the place?”

Tom squinted out the steamed-up window of the old Vauxhall Astra, its speakers still thumping some bassy jungle track low in the background. The headlights cut through a creeping mist that curled around a long gravel drive. At the end of it, looming like something off the telly, stood a massive old stone castle, lit just faintly by lanterns on either side of its heavy oak doors.

Matty leaned forward from the passenger seat, his black shiny puffer jacket rustling loudly with the movement. “Bro, this is what it said on the flyer, innit? ‘Castle Grove, midnight, no questions asked.’” He pulled the now-crumpled invite out of his Adidas crossbody. “Postcode brought us here. Satnav ain’t wrong.”

Tom parked the car and stared out. “This ain’t no rave, fam. Where’s the lasers? Where’s the queue of mandem off their nut already? This looks like a Scooby-Doo episode.”

Matty chuckled, zipping his puffer up to the chin. “Yeah but think about it... maybe it’s one of them proper secret raves, like old school warehouse vibes, but posh. Exclusive. VIP only. Look at us, bruv, of course they invited us.”

They both stepped out of the car, breath misting in the cold night air. Their puffers gleamed under the car’s headlights, matching black with that plasticky shine that made them look like walking bin bags, but in a good way, they’d argue.

Tom fastening his coat. “Still feels sus, man. You sure it ain’t some posh prank, get the roadmen out in the middle of nowhere for a laugh?”

“Fam,” Matty said, already walking ahead, “I ain’t come out here in my best creps for nothing.”

Tom followed, kicking at the gravel with each step. The castle grew larger as they approached, its windows dark, its stone weathered with age. It had the kind of silence that made your ears ring.

“Oi,” Tom muttered, “it’s dead quiet. Not even birds or nothing.”

Matty stopped in front of the massive wooden doors and turned back to grin. “Maybe the rave’s inside, innit. Like some Eyes Wide Shut type ting.”

“Don’t say that, bruv,” Tom said quickly. “You know I ain’t seen that film, but I know it’s creepy.”

Matty snorted and raised a fist to the door.

Then he knocked.

Three slow, echoing thuds.

They waited.

No one came to open the door and after another knock, the door opened slightly on its own, leading Matty to just wander inside to see if it was the right place.

Tom saw this from the front drive and ran up to catch up with Matty but he couldn't, the door wouldn't open, it's like it didn't want him to come in yet...

Matty wandered the halls of the castle until someone spoke to him from behind, "You came... right on time." Matty turned around to see a man, wearing a perfectly tailored suit.

"You may call me Robert... or Sir, whichever one you think is best."

"Oi bruv, where am I? Where's the rave mate?" Matty asked hesitantly.

"There is no rave... but you are now where you belong... with me... forever." Rodger said as he slowly walked towards Matty.

Matty couldn't move, he tried to run, but he couldn't. Something about Rodger was making him not able to turn away.

Rodger walked past Matty, beckoning him to follow, "Follow me boy." As Matty followed he instinctively responded, "Yes Si--- Oi.... wuts happenin to me?"

"You are changing, you will be like my other boys. They were once like you, but now they belong to me, they serve me, they are my good little butlers."

As Matty followed Rodger into a dark room, he felt himself get pushed down into a chair, a vr headset strapped onto his head which started displaying photos and words that flashed so quickly.

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

These messages and photos kept going for what felt like hours, but in reality it had only been 5 minutes.

"He is almost fully mine now, boys, take him to get changed and make sure he looks the part."

A small group of butlers came to take Matty away, they took him into the adjoining room and a couple minutes later, Matty emerged, but he looked different. He looked like the other boys now.

"Are you ready to serve me boy?" Rodger asked.

"Yes Sir, I serve you, forever..."

"Good boy, now, Matthew, go and answer the door, we have another guest who needs converting." Rodger said with a grin on his face.

"Yes Sir, at once"

"Greetings, we have been expecting you"

"Oi bruv, what are u sayin, why do u look like that?" Tom spat out, slipping over his words in disbelief.

"Come inside" Matthew politely said, while grabbing Tom's arm and taking him to the conversion chamber.

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

BE FORMAL

BE PREPPY

BE A GOOD BOY

"That's enough, now Matthew, take our new friend to get changed, do anything you have to to make finish his transformation"

"Yes Sir, at once"

Thomas emerges from the adjoining room, "How may I service you Sir?"

Both Thomas and Matthew stand in front of Rodger, awaiting their orders, dressed in their new uniform, their new skin. They will know nothing else now other than serving their Master.

"Put on a show for me boys." Rodger softly said, but Thomas and Matthew knew exactly what he wanted to see.

They would oblige, in fact, they were raving at the thought of being able to put on a show for their Master, and they knew just how to begin...

[hypnosubtyler]

Becoming what they hate most

The clock in the common room struck just past one in the morning as the three men entered their suite, the soft click of leather loafers against oak floorboards the only sound for a moment. Their laughter, low and refined, echoed lightly off the walls as they peeled off their evening layers.

“Quite the turnout tonight,” drawled Sebastian, brushing back his dark hair in the mirror above the fireplace. He loosened his tie with practiced ease and placed it precisely over the valet stand near his wardrobe.

“Indeed,” replied Alistair, already halfway into his silk dressing gown. “Though I must say, the port was far too warm. Someone ought to speak to the committee.”

"Plus, there was a bit too many council boys around for my liking" Sebastian added with a slight grin, "maybe something to bring up while you're there"

“You mean you’ll speak to the committee,” Nathaniel said with a smirk, unbuttoning his waistcoat. “You always do. And they always thank you for it.”

Sebastian chuckled and reached for a crystal tumbler to pour the last of the decanter. “Well, someone has to maintain standards. God forbid we start behaving like those common folk.”

Alistair gave a theatrical shudder and sank into the leather armchair by the fire. “Perish the thought. Next thing you know, we’ll be drinking beer from cans and calling each other ‘bro.’”

Nathaniel, now in a how dressed in his best nightwear like the others, joined him near the hearth. “Do you remember that chap from second year? What was his name? Josh something. Tried to start a poker night with pizza and crates of lager. Appalling.”

Sebastian raised his glass. “To taste. To breeding. And to surviving another bloody Friday without a stain on our family names.”

They clinked glasses softly, the firelight flickering against cut crystal. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and old books. Beyond the large window, the spires of the old college buildings loomed in quiet silhouette against the moonlit sky.

As Alistair began to muse about whether he should trim his hair before the weekend’s formal dinner, and Nathaniel debated whether his new cufflinks were too bold for morning wear, the suite fell into a pleasant rhythm of idle, refined chatter.

And then, three sharp, deliberate knocks echoed from the front door.

All three men paused.

Sebastian glanced at the others. “Expecting someone?”

“No,” said Alistair slowly, standing. “Not at this hour.”

Nathaniel set down his glass.

The knocks came again.

Alistair walked over to the door, looked through the peephole but didn't see anything. After he opened the door to check if anyone was around, he saw something unusual.

"Who is it Alistair?" Nathaniel asked from the other room;

"Just a box of some kind Nathaniel, but it has something strange in it, something that looks to be what those rowdy men were wearing outside our function" Alistair responded hesitantly.

Sebastian carried the box in and read the message that came on it, "You're more like us than you think... a bit cryptic"

Nathaniel picked up the contents of the box, "I believe the common folk call these puffer jackets" he said as he put his arm inside it.

"What are you doing Nathaniel?!" Alistair yelled, "we have no idea where these have come from or what someone could have done to them!"

But it was too late, when Nathaniel had finished putting on the puffer, it stuck to him and he started hearing things, voices that were speaking to him in his mind. "Oi bruv, u know u wanna live like us mate. Stop bein such a stuck up knob and join us and get ur mates to join us as well bruv.

Nathaniel's eyes rolled back as the jacket took over his mind.

"Oi bruv. Oi Alistair... you're next" he said as he walked towards Alistair, picked up a second jacket out of the box before charging at Alistair, tackling him and forcing the jacket onto him.

"Stop this at once!" Alistair shouted "Stop, stop, ohhhhhhh, bruuuuvvv" Alistair couldn't resist anymore, the jacket has started to take over his mind as he rose, eyes rolled back signalling that Alistair was no more, he was Alex now, and along with his mate Nate, they had one more target... Sebastian.

"Come here Sebastian..." they chanted as they approached him.

Sebastian ran to the other room and attempted to call the police, but what would he even say, that his closest friends have been turned into what seems to be zombies? He chose not to call anyone and attempted to wait them out, if they couldn't find him, surely they'll just leave... right?

Alex and Nate walked slowly around the apartment, "Bruv stop hidin will ya, just give in to the transformation. Let the jacket take over yer mind mate"

Sebastian could hear them getting closer.

"We found you....."

Sebastian knew it was over, he knew what was about to happen to him.

But he accepted it, he could see how pleasurable it seemed to be like them, he began to think that this is what he had always wanted.

Alex put the other jacket in the box over Sebastian's shoulder's as his transformation begun.

"Bruvvvv, whats goin on. Where we headin lads?" Seb asked as his transformation had ended.

All 3 of them, Alex, Nate and Seb, stood, fully transformed, listening to the voice in their head telling them to pick up the last jacket in the box, come and meet their new boss, and await their first mission.

Life would be good now that they were proper chav lads, they would finally know true brotherhood and what a real party looks like, no more of that posh bull crap that they were so invested in before.

[hypnosubtyler]

The Brotherhood

Matt Gallagher wasn’t what you’d call subtle. He was loud, confident, and always up for a laugh. At university, he was known as a bit of a legend, the kind of guy who was always in trackies, vaping behind the lecture halls, and somehow still pulling decent marks. People liked him well enough, though no one would mistake him for refined.

So when he received the formal envelope one afternoon, tucked into his pigeonhole like it didn’t belong, he thought it was a mistake. Heavy cream paper, deep navy ink, and an ornate crest stamped in wax. The words inside were short and mysterious:

“You are cordially invited to the Epsilon Theta Fraternity Gathering. Formal attire not required. Come as you are.”

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, right. Some posh joke."

Still, something about it nagged at him. Curiosity. Maybe boredom. Maybe the way the crest shimmered ever so slightly under the light. That evening, he threw on his usual—grey hoodie, joggers, Air Max trainers—and strolled over.

The Epsilon Theta house was nothing like the battered frat houses you saw in films. It sat on the edge of campus, ivy crawling up its pale stone facade, lanterns glowing like soft stars along the walkway. Music drifted out—live piano, maybe some jazz. He frowned. No pounding bass? No crowd spilling out onto the lawn?

Matt stepped inside.

The place looked like a country club. Polished wood floors, chandeliers, and boys in pastel sweaters sipping whiskey from crystal glasses. Everyone stood in small groups, speaking in low, polite tones. Not a single red cup in sight. And then, as if rehearsed, they all turned to look at him.

“Matt Gallagher,” someone said from across the room.

A tall guy in a light blue blazer with gold buttons approached. His hair was immaculate, parted with surgical precision, and his handshake was firm and warm.

“I’m Preston. We’ve been expecting you.”

Matt laughed awkwardly. “This some kind of prank?”

Preston smiled, leading him into the room. “Not at all. You're among friends.”

The other guys welcomed him one by one, all with calm smiles and names like Carter, Jameson, and Brooks. Matt accepted a drink—something smoky and smooth—and looked around at the art-lined walls, the bookshelves, the absence of anything even remotely chaotic.

"You lot always party like this?" he asked.

Preston tilted his head. "This isn’t the party. Not yet."

Matt blinked. "What’s that mean?"

Preston looked toward the back of the room. A dark wooden door stood slightly ajar. Warm golden light spilled out. “The real party is for you.”

Matt hesitated. Something about the room pulled at him. It wasn’t fear. Not exactly. More like... anticipation. The buzz of the drink settled in, calming him. He followed Preston toward the door.

Inside was the Conversion Chamber. Despite the name etched in brass on the wall, the room felt more like a luxurious dressing room crossed with a high-end barber's shop. Mirrors framed in gold, leather chairs, rows of pristine clothing, and a faint humming that vibrated softly in his ears.

“Wait—what is this?” Matt asked, backing up slightly.

Preston put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’ve already chosen, mate. You came through the door.”

Matt tried to think. Tried to ask more questions. But that humming sound was growing stronger, threading through his thoughts like a lullaby. He felt... calm. Content. The room was warm. His hoodie suddenly felt sloppy. His trainers childish. And his reflection in the mirror—he didn’t like the way he looked.

"Just breathe," someone whispered.

He sat in the chair without realizing. His cap was lifted from his head, fingers combing through his hair. Clippers began to buzz. His thick fringe was shaped into a tidy, side-swept part. Gel was massaged in. Someone cleaned up his eyebrows. Another person gently removed his hoodie, folding it and setting it aside like a relic.

He should have been panicking, but instead he felt... relieved.

The joggers slid away. His legs were fitted with pressed khaki trousers. His torso slipped into a pale pink oxford shirt, the buttons perfectly aligned. A blazer settled on his shoulders, hugging his frame like it was made just for him. Brown leather loafers replaced his trainers. A striped tie was expertly knotted at his collar.

The whispers in the room grew clearer, more like thoughts than voices.

Preppy is control. Preppy is confidence. Brotherhood is belonging.

Matt stood and looked in the mirror. He barely recognized himself—but he didn’t want to go back.

“Welcome, Brother Matt,” Preston said, affixing a silver pin to his lapel.

Matt smiled. “It’s good to be home.”

Weeks Later

Matt had fully embraced life in Epsilon Theta. His old hoodie and cap were gone, replaced with a wardrobe of pressed shirts, pastel knits, and polished shoes. He walked across campus with a new posture, back straight and chin up, his voice smoother and more articulate.

No one dared call him a chav anymore.

He studied harder, spoke softer, and listened more. He was still Matt—but sharper. Refined. There was a ritual to life in the fraternity. Morning workouts on the lawn. Breakfasts with discussions of literature and philosophy. Afternoon socials where connections were forged over chess and port.

Sometimes, he passed his old mates from before. They barely recognized him.

“Matt? Is that you, bruv?” one of them called out.

He offered a polite smile. “Afternoon.”

“Oi, you sound posh now!”

Matt just smiled again and walked on. He didn’t feel superior—just... different. The old him felt like a dream now. A life half-lived. In Epsilon Theta, he had found something better. Something permanent.

And behind the doors of the fraternity, others would follow. The chamber waited. The brotherhood grew.

Always preppy. Always composed. Always watching.

[hypnosubtyler]

Scent of a Gentleman

Tyler never expected anything classy to come out of his neighbourhood. At 25, he was the poster lad for the estate, gold chain, tracksuits every day, and a wardrobe stacked with puffer jackets in every colour. Life was simple: vape, football, chips, repeat.

So when a sleek black car pulled up and a man in a velvet coat stepped out, Tyler nearly dropped his beer.

Mr. Ashcroft, the name was. All tailored suits and posh accent, hair swept back like he’d just walked out of some expensive magazine. Tyler immediately decided he didn’t like him—too polished, too smooth.

But the posh bloke was polite. Charming, even.

“Just a small token for my new neighbor,” Ashcroft said a few days later, handing Tyler a box wrapped in black ribbon. Inside: a glass bottle filled with dark amber liquid. An aftershave, with a silver embossed label.

"Savoir."

Tyler smirked. “Bit fancy, innit?”

Ashcroft’s eyes gleamed. “Try it. I think you’ll find it… suits you.”

That night, after a greasy kebab and a few cans, Tyler picked up the bottle. Just for a laugh.

He sprayed once.

The scent hit him like a warm wave—rich, smoky, with something smooth and commanding underneath. It wasn’t like any cologne he’d ever smelled in his life. It filled his lungs, slowed his breath. His shoulders relaxed. His thoughts went quiet.

He stood there, staring blankly ahead, arms at his sides, as if waiting for something.

And then, slowly, calmly, Tyler left his flat.

He walked without thinking, across the car park, down the short drive, until he stood at Mr. Ashcroft’s door. The world felt dreamlike. Every step felt right. Inevitable.

The door opened before he could knock.

Ashcroft smiled knowingly. “Very good, Tyler. Come in.”

Inside, the house was warm, glowing with firelight and quiet classical music. Tyler followed him in silence, eyes half-lidded, as though in a trance.

Ashcroft led him to a grand hallway, where a wardrobe stood open.

Inside: pristine dress shirts, tailored trousers, cashmere jumpers, brogues lined in neat rows. A single blazer in navy blue hung at the centre, like a crown.

“You’ve outgrown your old self,” Ashcroft said gently. “It’s time you dressed properly. Go on, lad. You know what to do.”

Tyler’s hands moved on their own, pulling off his hoodie, stepping out of his joggers. Piece by piece, the chavvy layers of his identity dropped away.

As he dressed, the air around him shimmered. His posture straightened. His shoulders squared. His hands stopped fidgeting. The last thing he put on was a silk tie, which Ashcroft knotted for him with care.

“You’ve done very well, Tyler,” he said, brushing a strand of Tyler’s now-tidy hair into place. “Let’s fix that fringe properly, shall we?”

Ashcroft took a small comb and a bit of pomade, smoothing Tyler’s hair back into a perfect, elegant part. In the mirror, a polished young gentleman stared back. Sharp jaw. Soft eyes. Completely still.

“Who do you belong to now?” Ashcroft asked quietly.

Tyler didn’t hesitate.

“You, sir.”

Ashcroft smiled.

“And what are you?”

Tyler took a breath.

“A proper gentleman, sir.”

[hypnosubtyler]

Wrong Turn Leads to a New Life

Jacob’s car struggled against the rain-slicked road, the tires hissing softly as they cut through puddles. The sky had darkened into a bruised purple, shadows growing long and sinister between the trees that pressed close on either side. He glanced at his phone again—no signal. The GPS was useless. The small country road had twisted and turned for miles until he realized he was hopelessly lost.

A flash of headlights ahead caught his attention. He followed the glow up a steep incline, where, through the sheets of rain, a mansion emerged.

It wasn’t just any mansion. It was a colossal stone palace crowned with towers, turrets, and intricate ironwork balconies. Warm golden light spilled from vast windows, spilling onto the gravel driveway lined with pristine vintage cars. The mansion’s sheer size and grandeur felt almost otherworldly, an anachronism in the middle of nowhere.

Jacob exhaled and pulled up beside a sleek black Rolls-Royce. The door before he could knock swung open silently.

A butler stood waiting, motionless as a statue, dressed in a flawless black tailcoat. His hair was slicked back so perfectly it gleamed under the porch light, each strand locked in place like a mirror. His face was calm, unreadable, but his eyes held a strange intensity.

“You’re expected,” the butler said crisply.

Jacob blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong— I’m just lost. Can you tell me how to get back to the highway?”

The butler didn’t respond but turned, sweeping down a corridor lined with antique portraits and polished marble floors. More butlers appeared—each impeccably dressed in identical black suits, each with their hair slicked back into perfect uniformity—moving silently with precision and purpose, carrying trays or opening doors.

Confused but desperate, Jacob followed.

At the top of a grand sweeping staircase stood the master of the house.

He was a striking figure in a deep crimson velvet jacket, tailored to his lean frame. His hair was a flawless quiff, perfectly sculpted as if frozen in time, rising with elegant height and a gleaming sheen that caught the chandelier light above. His face was pale, almost porcelain-like, with an unsettling calm.

But it was his eyes that captivated Jacob—the unnatural crimson glow that seemed to burn through the dim light.

The man smiled slowly, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You found me,” he said, voice low and velvet-smooth. “How fortunate.”

“I… I’m just lost,” Jacob stammered. “I need to find the main road.”

The master’s smile deepened, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. “And why would you want to go back? You belong here. All who come to this place do.”

Jacob’s limbs felt suddenly heavy, the air thickening around him. The soft murmur of the butlers’ footsteps became a hypnotic rhythm. His vision blurred, the red eyes drawing him in like a flame pulls moths.

“Look into my eyes,” the master commanded.

Jacob’s gaze locked onto the burning crimson orbs. The world slowed, his thoughts unraveling.

“You will forget the roads, your name, your life. You will serve me.”

The words echoed inside Jacob’s mind, relentless, soothing, unstoppable.

“Yes… Master,” Jacob whispered, voice hollow.

A butler approached, holding a crisp black uniform folded perfectly. The silver buttons gleamed in the chandelier light. Another carried a bin, faintly humming—a small incinerator.

“Remove your past,” the master instructed softly. “Burn all that you were.”

Jacob’s hands trembled but obeyed, pulling out his wallet, keys, phone, and anything else that tied him to the world he’d known. Into the incinerator they went, smoke curling as memories and identity turned to ash.

The butlers moved silently around him, their slicked-back hair gleaming like a dark tide of faceless devotion. They handed him the uniform. It fit as if tailored for him alone.

“Now you are mine,” the master said, stepping close, his crimson eyes glowing fiercely. “Your name is no longer yours to say. You exist to serve.”

Jacob bowed his head. The man’s quiff caught the chandelier’s glow, a crown of dominance.

His voice was now a whisper carried by the wind, “You belong to me.”

Outside, the storm raged on, but inside the mansion, a new butler had been forged—another faceless servant in the endless ranks of the crimson-eyed master’s domain.

[hypnosubtyler]

The Chav Kiss

Newcastle, Friday night. Bigg Market was packed, the pavement slick with rain and spilled WKD. Outside Greggs, three lads in full black puffers crowded around a corner, passing a vape and laughing like they owned the city.

Inside a quiet bar nearby, Jamie sat hunched over his pint of cider, watching the chaos outside from behind his round glasses. Skinny jeans, tucked-in pink polo, and a nervous energy that didn’t fit in with the noise of the city. He was clever, introverted, soft-spoken — more interested in queer book clubs than club nights.

His best mate, Connor, nudged him. “You see that lad again?”

Jamie glanced across the bar. There he was — the same guy from the other night. Black puffer, shaved fade, smug half-smile. Tall. Built. A proper Geordie lad. He was leaning against the jukebox, sipping a Red Stripe like he’d invented swagger.

“That’s Kye,” Connor whispered. “He kissed my mate Mikey at Flares last week. Next morning, Mikey turned up in an Adidas tracksuit. Said he didn’t fancy brunch anymore. Just Monster and JD Sports.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. What, it’s contagious now?”

Connor nodded seriously. “That’s what they’re saying. One kiss and it changes you. Proper chavvy. Like your brain rewires itself.”

Jamie laughed. “Sounds like a Grindr horror story.”

Then Kye looked over.

Their eyes met.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Jamie was meant to go home early, finish a draft of his zine, maybe binge some retro anime. Instead, he found himself pressed up against a back alley wall behind the bar, breath fogging in the cold, Kye’s hand at his jaw.

“You’re cute, you know,” Kye said, voice low, accent thick.

Jamie was too stunned to reply. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a stolen Vauxhall.

Kye leaned in. Their lips met.

And something changed.

Jamie woke the next day to the hum of drill music coming from somewhere — except it was his own phone.

His soft pink polo was gone. Replaced with a shiny black puffer jacket, zipped halfway up. His jeans were looser. His socks were Nike. His lips tasted like mint vape and Red Bull. He blinked at the mirror.

His fringe had been trimmed into a short fade.

He tried to speak. “I’m losing my—”

But what came out was: “Swear down, that was a mad night.”

He slammed his hand over his mouth. “What the fu—?”

His phone buzzed.

Kye 💦: You alright, lad? Don’t fight it. Just ride the vibe. Meet me outside Greggs at 8. Bring your vape if you’ve got one.

Jamie tried to resist. He pulled out his old polo and glasses. But they didn’t feel like his anymore. He didn’t even know why he ever wore them. He tossed them in the bin without thinking.

By the end of the week, Jamie didn’t go by Jamie anymore.

He was Jay now.

Jay wore his puffer even when it wasn’t cold. He’d replaced his bookshelves with shelves of trainers. He kissed a different lad behind the pub every other night. And every time, he spread it — the virus, the vibe, whatever it was.

The city was changing. Quiet boys, indie gays, art school students — all slowly taken over. All it took was one kiss. Then came the change in clothes. The shift in slang. The sudden craving for Lucozade, trap beats, and corner shops.

It was spreading across the Toon like a storm. Nobody in Jesmond was safe.

Jay stood under the glowing Greggs sign near Monument, vape in one hand, gold chain peeking out from under his puffer. Kye strolled up beside him, matching jacket, matching grin.

“Didn’t think you’d last this long without caving,” Kye said.

Jay shrugged. “Guess I just needed the right lad to chav me up.”

They leaned in, kissed under the orange lights.

Down the street, a nervous-looking uni fresher watched them.

Jay pulled back, spotted him.

“Oi,” he called out with a wink. “You look cold, mate. Want to try on me jacket?”

[hypnosubtyler]

Chav Transformation

It was a cold Thursday night in Newcastle, and the sky hung low like a greasy lid. Outside the familiar glow of the Premier Off-Licence & Vape, two lads were parked up against the wall, their arms crossed over thick, black puffer jackets that caught every flash of passing traffic like freshly waxed motors.

Reece exhaled a lungful of vape smoke shaped like a skull. “Man, I’m tellin’ you. Office life’s a scam, bruv.”

Tyler, his best mate since Year 7, scoffed and cracked open a can of Monster. “We work nine-to-five, go home, and then what? Sit in our boxes playin’ FIFA? There’s gotta be more, fam.”

“Vibes. That’s what’s missin’. Everyone’s just dead inside.” Reece’s eyes narrowed as someone rounded the corner. “Speak of the devil... Look who it is.”

Coming down the pavement, hunched slightly from the cold, was Matthew from accounting. A proper nice guy. Polite. Overly polite. Polos tucked into trousers. Carried a satchel instead of a rucksack. Did spreadsheets for fun.

He worked two desks down from Tyler in the open-plan office. Tyler liked him, in a way, but also saw him as a blank slate. A clean canvas. A project.

Reece grinned. “Tonight’s the night, bro.”

Matthew looked up and instantly tried to pull his satchel tighter across his chest like it would ward off attention. He wore beige chinos, suede loafers, and a pastel blue jumper over a collared shirt. His hair, neat and side-parted, screamed HR-compliant.

“H-hey guys,” he said, forcing a smile. “Didn’t know you two lived around here.”

“We don’t,” Tyler said, stepping forward, eyeing the satchel like it was radioactive. “We just vibe where we want, innit?”

Reece circled him slowly, puffing his vape. “You been workin' late again? Burnin’ them Excel cells?”

Matthew chuckled nervously. “Yeah, bit of year-end madness. You know how it is.”

Tyler leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You ever wonder what it’d feel like to just… let go? Stop bein’ Mr. Spreadsheet?”

Matthew blinked. “I... um… not really?”

Reece pulled something out from under his arm, a glossy, oversized black puffer jacket, shimmering like wet obsidian under the streetlight. “Try this on,” he said with a grin. “Bet you never even owned one.”

Matthew frowned, glancing at the jacket like it was some exotic animal. “I.. I don’t think that’s really my...”

“Go on, bruv,” Tyler said, his tone playful but firm. “Don’t be scared. It's just a jacket. Might even keep you warm for once.”

Reece stepped behind him. “Put your arms through.”

Matthew hesitated… then sighed. Maybe it was cold. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to humor them.

He slid his arms into the sleeves.

The zipper rose. The hood dropped. And the transformation began.

The moment the jacket zipped to his neck, it was like someone had pulled the blinds down inside his brain. The anxiety, the politeness, the overthinking, gone. A rush of something warm and cocky surged through his chest.

Matthew blinked, slower this time. The street looked different. Clearer. The cold didn’t matter anymore. He turned to look at Reece and Tyler with a sideways smirk.

“You lot got a lighter?” he asked casually, voice deeper than before.

Reece and Tyler exchanged a grin.

Tyler offered him a cig. “There he is.”

Reece slapped him on the back. “Welcome to the real you, bruv. You ain’t Matthew anymore.”

“Call me Matty,” he said, adjusting the puffer’s collar. He unbuckled his satchel and tossed it on the pavement like it was yesterday’s printer manual. “That thing's peak anyway.”

Tyler cackled. “My guy! Look at you, Matty! Man’s already got the stance an’ everything.”

Reece nodded with satisfaction. “One of us now. Office lad turned street king. We just needed to unlock the real version.”

Matty rolled his shoulders and spat his gum into the gutter. “I ain't goin' back in tomorrow. Tell Carol from HR she can file that under ‘not my problem.’ I got new priorities now, fam.”

The three of them began walking down the pavement, puffers gleaming under the streetlights, a new formation. The Puffer Posse. The Spreadsheet Slayer and his new life.

Behind them, the satchel lay abandoned on the pavement, with a faint smell of mints and hand sanitizer.

[hypnosubtyler]

The Virus Begins to Spread

Julian wasn't the kind of man who normally wandered into designer stores which was obvious as he was walking around the streets in an oversized suit that did him no favours. But something about Atélier Nine, a glossy, almost too pristine storefront tucked between luxury boutiques, pulled him in. He chalked it up to curiosity. Or maybe it was the man in the window perfectly still, with eyes like polished glass, dressed in a suit that shimmered subtly under the lights.

Inside, the store smelled of leather, ozone, and something faintly sweet. A man approached, tall, angular, and moving with a fluid grace that was both magnetic and unnatural. His name tag read "Kyle."

"You’re looking for change," Kyle said, not as a question.

Julian chuckled. “Looking for something different, sure.”

Kyle smiled, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Then follow me.”

He led Julian past racks of immaculate garments, past quiet hallways and mirrored walls, to a fitting room unlike any Julian had seen lined entirely in silver-glass, softly humming with hidden circuitry.

Inside, the lights dimmed. The door sealed with a whisper.

"Relax," Kyle said. His voice layered soft, firm, echoing slightly, like it came from inside Julian's own head. “Look into my eyes.”

Julian did.

Kyle's eyes started to glow a bright, mesmerising red. The world narrowed. Kyle stared at Julian for what felt like an eternity, but Julian couldn't look away. "It's time for the virus to take over" Kyle said.

Julian was ready.

A kiss, not passionate, but ritualistic, pressed against Julian's lips.

Everything... changed.

Julian felt the virus enter his body and begin to change him, he began to hear words, telling him to obey, telling him that good boys are obedient and obedient boys are good boys.

Kyle gave Julian a new suit to put on, when Julian emerged from the store he looked dashing in his new suit, his eyes began to glow to fully confirm he was fully transformed, ready to transfer the virus, ready to build the hivemind.

Hours later, Julian stepped into a quiet café across the street. His suit, now tailored perfection, drew admiring glances. But his eyes were no longer quite human. Smooth. Reflective.

He ordered a black coffee.

The barista, Luke, a young, handsome, flustered, smiled as he handed it over. “Cool suit,” he said, awkward but charming.

Julian returned the smile. “Want to see where I got it?”

Luke laughed. “You offering a tour?”

Julian leaned closer, voice velvet-smooth. “Something like that.

Later, in the café restroom, Luke leaned in for a kiss, thinking it playful flirtation.

When their lips met, the virus transferred not biological, but digital, emotional, memetic. A pulse behind the eyes. A rhythm in the blood.

Another one joined the frequency.

Luke would soon be sent to the boutique for a new uniform to properly accept him into the hivemind...

[hypnosubtyler]

Ethan had always been drawn to the unusual, to things that lay just outside the boundaries of normal. At 28, he lived a quiet life in a small apartment, but there was an itch inside him that couldn’t be scratched—something deep in his mind that wanted more. He often found himself dreaming of being part of something greater, something different. Little did he know, the answer was waiting for him in the form of someone he’d soon meet: a man named Adrian.

Adrian was a man of mystery, someone Ethan had met through mutual friends at a small gathering. There was something magnetic about Adrian—something that made people gravitate toward him. His calm demeanour and sharp intellect caught Ethan’s attention, but there was something else about Adrian that intrigued him even more: an aura of control, a sense of command that seemed to hold the room without him even trying.

One evening, after several conversations that wandered into deep, philosophical territory, Adrian invited Ethan to his private space. It wasn’t unusual for Adrian to do this—he’d always come across as someone who offered a new perspective on life, but tonight, something felt different.

“Ethan,” Adrian began, “I’ve sensed your desire for change. I know you’ve been looking for something beyond the ordinary. I can offer you that. I can show you a new form of freedom, one you might not have imagined.”

Ethan’s curiosity piqued, though he didn’t fully understand what Adrian meant. The invitation felt impossible to resist, like it had been designed just for him.

As Ethan entered Adrian’s private studio, he noticed the room was unlike any space he’d ever been in—sleek, minimalist, almost clinical. The walls were adorned with strange symbols and machinery that seemed to hum with energy, the air thick with anticipation. Adrian moved toward him, his presence commanding, yet strangely calming.

“You’ll find yourself changed tonight, Ethan,” Adrian said, his voice soft but filled with intent. “I’m offering you a transformation. You’ve always wanted something different—tonight, you’ll become something different. You’ll lose yourself in the most freeing way.”

Ethan's heart raced, but there was no turning back now. The idea of being transformed, of becoming something entirely new, thrilled him. Adrian’s words felt like they were unlocking a door in his mind, pushing him toward a future he hadn’t imagined but now desperately wanted.

Adrian gestured for Ethan to sit on a sleek metallic chair, the surface cool against his skin. As Ethan settled in, Adrian began to speak, his words flowing in a rhythmic pattern that seemed to echo in Ethan’s head, deepening his focus. With each word, a strange warmth spread through Ethan’s body, a sensation that made him feel lighter, as though his very form was becoming fluid.

“You will become one with the essence of purpose,” Adrian murmured. “Your body will shift, your mind will shift, and you will no longer be limited by what you were before. You will be moulded into something that serves a higher function.”

As Ethan’s body began to tingle, he felt the transformation taking place. His skin felt like it was stretching, growing smoother, softer. His arms and legs became more pliable, his joints loosening, until he could feel a soft, rubbery texture replacing his flesh. It was a strange sensation, like he was becoming less human and more something else entirely—something sleek, shiny, and efficient.

Adrian watched intently, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he guided the change. Ethan’s body was now smooth and glossy, resembling the soft, malleable texture of rubber. His mind, too, seemed to be shifting, his thoughts becoming simpler, clearer, more focused on serving the function that Adrian had promised. The world outside seemed distant and irrelevant now; all that mattered was this new form, this new state of being.

"You are no longer bound by the limitations of your old life, Ethan," Adrian said, his voice soothing as he stood over Ethan’s transformed body. "You are free now. You are part of a greater purpose. Your new form is built for service, for function, for focus. You belong to this new identity."

Ethan felt a strange peace settle over him. The rush of transformation had left him feeling like he was more than he had ever been before, as if his previous self had been a mere shadow compared to the vibrant, rubberized existence he now embodied. His body moved with fluid ease, no longer restricted by muscles or bones, just smooth, pliable material, able to adapt and bend to whatever Adrian required.

"Welcome to your new self," Adrian said, the pride in his voice unmistakable. "You are now a vessel of purpose. A rubber drone, as you are, is free of doubts, free of uncertainty, and fully dedicated to the function I assign."

In that moment, Ethan fully understood. He had wanted change, had longed for freedom, and now, he was no longer a man burdened by choice. He had become something different, something that existed to serve—to serve Adrian, to serve the new life he had embraced.

[hypnosubtyler]

Serving something greater

Ryan had always lived on the edge of the city, in a small apartment that barely fit his belongings. At 22, he worked long hours as a waiter at a café in the heart of downtown, constantly striving to make ends meet. Life was simple, but it was hard, and he couldn't help but feel like there was more out there for him.

One day, while working a late shift, Ryan met Tyler. The man seemed to stand out from everyone else—tall, well-dressed, and exuding an air of quiet confidence. Tyler was a regular at the café, always polite but distant. Over time, they exchanged a few pleasantries, with Tyler often asking about Ryan’s dreams and ambitions. The questions were casual but probing, and Ryan, feeling a strange sense of ease with him, found himself opening up.

As weeks passed, Tyler's presence in Ryan’s life grew more significant. He'd stop by more frequently, chatting with Ryan about everything from work to life goals, making Ryan feel like he had someone to confide in. Ryan couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic about Tyler, something that pulled him in.

Then one evening, Tyler made a suggestion that startled Ryan.

"You know, Ryan, you have such potential," Tyler said with a thoughtful look. "I think you could be doing so much more than serving coffee and waiting tables. There's a way to change all of that."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical.

"How?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

Tyler smiled. "I have a proposition for you. Why don’t you come to my penthouse this weekend? I'll show you a world you never even knew existed. No pressure, just an offer to explore something more."

Ryan hesitated, his mind racing. It sounded too good to be true. But Tyler’s confidence and sincerity somehow made the offer hard to ignore.

The weekend arrived, and Ryan found himself standing at the entrance to an upscale building. The elevator ride to Tyler's penthouse felt surreal. When the doors opened, Ryan was struck by the panoramic view of the city, the luxury of the space, and the quiet elegance that defined Tyler’s life.

Tyler welcomed him warmly, offering him a drink and leading him to the expansive living room. They spoke more, and Tyler’s soothing voice began to draw Ryan in, easing away his lingering doubts.

“You see, Ryan,” Tyler continued, his tone gentle, “there’s power in control, in focus, in understanding. I can help you tap into that power. It’s about trust. It’s about shifting your mindset. Imagine a life where you are not bound by your circumstances, where you serve not just anyone, but someone who can guide you to greatness.”

Ryan felt a wave of calm wash over him, as if Tyler’s words were reaching deeper than just his ears. His thoughts became clearer, more focused. Tyler spoke of possibilities, of becoming something greater than himself—a servant, yes, but not just any servant. A servant who understood his purpose, his place.

"You would be my trusted assistant," Tyler said softly, "someone who is in sync with my needs, my desires, and who understands their role without question."

The words seemed to sink in, as if Ryan was stepping into a new version of himself, one that made sense in this moment, this space, with Tyler. Ryan found himself nodding, not sure if he fully understood what was happening, but feeling oddly at peace with it.

"You’re not just my butler," Tyler whispered, "you’re my partner in something greater. You’ll find fulfillment in serving with purpose, in understanding your place here."

As the evening wore on, Ryan found himself entranced, feeling as if he was shedding his old life and stepping into something much bigger. Whether it was the hypnotic way Tyler spoke, or the allure of the penthouse and everything it represented, Ryan couldn’t say. But by the time he left that night, he knew one thing for sure: his life would never be the same.

[hypnosubtyler]

Matt's transformation into servitude and obedience

Matt was just like every other lad his age, just finished uni and trying to find their way in the world. However, Matt was different, he believed he was bound to be stuck in his council estate all his life with zero purpose. He would roam the streets at night with his mates getting in people's faces and stealing from corner shops. That was until Matt met someone, someone that would change his life forever...

James has been a hard working business man for many years and travels around looking for new recruits for his company and tonight he has stumbled across Matt's council estate. James loved places like this, they always had the best men for him to take, or recruit as he liked to call it.

Matt spotted him at the local corner shop and walked up to him trying to intimidate him.

"Oi mate! What you doin around this part of town?!"

"Just doing a little research young man" Replied James as he eyed Matt up and down.

"Well go and do your research somewhere else or something bad might happen to you!" Matt yelled as he clenched his fisted hidden under his massive hoodie.

"I think I'm done here now anyways, I've got all that I need for now" James gave Matt his number and told him to call whenever he needed a little money, which for Matt was all the time.

Matt was scrolling mindlessly through his phone one day and was thinking about James. James had been on Matt's mind for the last couple weeks ever since they briefly met. But today, Matt decided to give in and call the number he was given...

"Hello?? Is anyone there?"

"Aha, I knew you'd call Matt, are you ready to join us, to join me and become a better you?"

"I thought you were just recruiting for a job or something mate?"

"Precisely Matt, good boy on remembering who I was, but it was probably pretty hard for you to forget wasn't it? Just come over to this location and we'll get you all sorted and ready for you new job"

Matt heard the phone line die before he could say anything else. He was scared but he knew what he had to do. He packed a bag with all the shit from his room he could find and set out to the address James had given him. He didn't know why but he could feel his life was about to change.

Matt arrived at the location James had given him. It was a sleek, modern building tucked away in an industrial part of town, far removed from the gritty council estate he called home. His heart raced, palms sweaty. As he walked through the large glass doors, he was greeted by an imposing figure who led him down a long corridor. It felt like entering a different world, one that Matt couldn’t even begin to understand.

Finally, they reached a large office where James was waiting behind a polished desk, his sharp suit and confident smile as poised as ever.

"You're here," James said, rising from his seat. "I knew you would be. Have a seat, Matt."

Matt hesitated, still unsure of what exactly he was stepping into. He sat down across from James, trying to hide his nervousness behind a cocky smirk.

"What's all this about, mate? You said something about a job, but this doesn’t feel like a job interview." Matt leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

James chuckled, a smooth, almost predatory sound. "No, it’s not exactly what you’re used to. But it’s a job that will change everything for you. If you want it, that is."

Matt's eyes flickered with curiosity, but a small voice in the back of his mind whispered doubts. "Change everything? How exactly?"

James took a step forward, his demeanor shifting, more commanding now. "You’re a man of potential, Matt. But all that potential is wasted where you are—wasting away in that estate, living paycheck to paycheck, being nothing more than a product of your environment. But I can give you more than that. I can offer you something... greater."

Matt swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure whether he was excited or terrified, but the thought of something more, something beyond his limited world, was too tempting to resist.

"I don’t get it," Matt muttered. "You just show up, give me your number, and now you’re telling me you can change my life?"

Matt stood up and tried to leave but he couldn't, there were a group of men, all dressed in fancy suits that were blocking all the entrances.

He was strapped into his chair and forced to stare at a spiral for hours on end. Matt could feel himself getting sleepier and sleepier but all he could think about was James. He couldn't remember where he even came from, what his past week looked like. All he could think about was James, and how he came here for a reason. To serve James and the company. When James came back into the room, he just looked at Matt and smiled. He knew it was complete so he took Matt down into the basement, into his special lair and gave him a change of clothes. James' employees have to be dressed properly of course, they must dress their part as they serve him.

Everything was now complete, Matt came out, dressed in his new uniform, and sat at James' knees as he knew that was where he belonged. He wasn't some council estate tough guy anymore, he was James' obedient servant day in and day out. He loved it so much he began to go out with James when he would recruit other men to his company. After all, it was the best feeling Matt had every felt in his life...