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LHWXI Behind the Scenes - Why a Virtual Con?

So some of you may have noticed that the world’s been a little different for the last year or so.

And in decades past being forcibly isolated from the rest of the world would have been, for erotic hypnosis fetishists, pretty much business as usual. (I do not speak of what I know from personal experience, I was lucky enough to fall in with my crowd of loveable miscreants in 2015, after hypnosis as a kink was becoming more widespread, with actual conventions and everything.) People who figured out they were into hypnosis as recently as 20 years ago (and yes to me that is actually recent, comparatively speaking) had, well... some online resources were they could chat with or up like-minded individuals, but anything that was an organized, in-person kind of get-together just wasn’t happening yet.

Now, of course, we’re isolated again, not because there are no resources, but because we live in a plague-ridden hellscape. But.

But.

Humans are resilient af and if given even the tiniest iota of hope, will grab that sumbitch by the balls and run with it. (I have never felt more American in my life than I did writing that sentence.) Despite the ass-backward idiocy of many of our national governments, we are actually, one injection at a time, dragging our depressed, anxiety-ridden, touch-starved, lonely, no-haircut selves out of the fucking dark. We will absolutely be able to reconvene out munches, our conventions, and our workshops.

But until then, we need the next best thing. And that, my friends, is spending time at a virtual hypnosis con, making new friends, seeing old friends, and renewing acquaintances. Which is why there is a virtual London Hypnosis Workshops, and why you, person reading this who desperately needs a light in the darkness, should attend it.

Registration remains open at £20. The con literally starts tomorrow. We’ll be waiting for you.

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LHWXI Behind the Scenes...

… but not too far, ‘cause Mystery™ must be maintained…

How did London Hypnotic Workshops go from being “that cool weekend get-together that @theleeallure throws every spring” to 

“hello I am a virtual con please attend me”?

(register HERE to validate the virtual con’s emotional needs)

SCENE*:

everyone: “travel restrictions suck! quarantines suck! pandemics suck!” someone: “it’s too bad that London Hypnosis Workshops can’t be a virtual event!” someone else: “…..” someone else: “…..” someone else: “…..”

someone else: “there’s nothing stopping me…”

END SCENE

But seriously, once Lee decided that LHWXI would be a virtual event, a small band of weary travelers a crack commando unit a ragtag fleet children of the atom a rebel alliance just four regular lads some very invested volunteers started working together to make it happen. Come see what we’ve made!

footnotes

*This scene has been fictionalized for dramatic purposes and may not accurately represent the precise way in which this happened. But also, it actually might.

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The Woman at the Cafe

Jeanne almost didn’t notice Giselle at first. The cafe bustled with activity in the morning, Parisiens filled the seats to drink their first coffee of the day, coming and going with such dizzying rapidity that a devoted layabout like Jeanne couldn’t possibly keep track of it all. But gradually, the leggy blonde began to stand out from the crowd simply by the absence of what others possessed in so much abundance–movement. The beautiful woman with the smooth, porcelain features hadn’t so much as raised her coffee cup to her bright red lips in a full twenty minutes. And once Jeanne began to actively watch her, it became clear that the person she’d come to know as Giselle wasn’t doing anything at all.

She didn’t stand, she didn’t sit, she didn’t twitch, she didn’t fidget, she didn’t even so much as blink. Giselle’s eyes remained fixed in a singular stare, focused on a random patch of wall for hours as the morning turned into early afternoon and Jeanne added a sandwich and another few cups of coffee to her tab. Occasionally a waitress would pass by, and with a chuckle they’d undo a button or pull down a strap. By the time the lunch rush came and went, Giselle’s blouse hung open to reveal a stark white brassiere and a girdle that she patently didn’t need. Jeanne stayed where she was. She wanted to see what happened next.

By the afternoon, the cafe was quiet. Nobody had any interest in a coffee at 4 PM, and the staff became even freer in their treatment of the still, silent woman across the terrace. “That’s our pretty Giselle,” one of them cooed, undoing a snap on the side of the frozen blonde’s burgundy skirt. “Deeper and deeper, sweet bird!” another one burbled, patting her on the head as they passed. Occasionally one of them would shoot Jeanne a smug, knowing look as they posed and primped the helpless young woman, removing her clothing altogether. She understood the significance of the glances–by watching, Jeanne had to some degree become a willing accomplice in their activities. She found that it troubled her less than she thought it might.

By six o'clock, Giselle was down to just her underwear. She had on a lovely pair of stockings that accentuated the curve of her long legs–Jeanne hadn’t made a particular study of women’s bodies before now, but something about the absolute helplessness of the stranger made her seem erotic in a way that Jeanne was only now discovering. She slowly, languidly squeezed her thighs together, enjoying the sensation of her swollen clit pressing against her slick labia as she watched the waitstaff undo Giselle’s bra and expose her bare breasts. The terrace was quiet, secluded, invisible from the street. They could do whatever they wanted. Nobody would stop them.

The sun went down, but the staff merely turned on the lights and continued to strip Giselle naked. She had on only the stockings and garters now, and waitresses took a lewd delight in reaching down between the helpless woman’s thighs and coming away with wet fingers. “That’s our good girl,” they murmured. “You love this so much. You can’t get enough, can you?” Giselle never responded, not even with a quickening of breath, but Jeanne could see the growing stain on the chair beneath her. Whoever Giselle was, whatever this was about, it was clearly turning her on beyond measure. Jeanne wondered if they’d simply leave her out overnight like this, or whether the game ended when it was time for bed.

She watched pinches, gropes, teases, a host of familiarities small and large, unable to look away. She barely even recognized how turned on she was; the fascination made Jeanne’s arousal seem dreamy, passive, a thing that was being done to her rather than her own indulgence. But it wasn’t until one of the waitresses finally approached her and said, “You can have this too, if you want it,” that Jeanne realized she’d stopped moving at all. She tried to nod, and found her body wouldn’t respond. It was only by her total absence of motion that they realized she was consenting to join Giselle in her frozen submission to their will.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)

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if you voted by mail-in ballot in PA, MI, WI, NV, NC, and GA:

you can check the status of your ballot online by entering the information associated with your voter registration to check if your ballot was accepted. 

pennsylvania voters: check the status of your ballot here

michigan voters: check the status of your ballot here

wisconsin voters: check the status of your ballot here

nevada voters: check the status of your ballot here

north carolina voters: check the status of your ballot here

georgia voters: check the status (how to) of your ballot here

it is vital to the success of this election that you check to see if your vote was accepted, and especially important since it has come down to these six states. please take a few seconds to follow up to make sure your vote was counted! 

every state will look different, but for example:

this is what it will say on pennsylvania’s ballot status site if your vote has been recorded. if the site does not indicate that your vote has been recorded, please consider following up with a phone call to your county election office or whoever your state dedicates to these issues. if not, keep checking periodically throughout the week to make sure your vote was recorded. 

this is so important. there is a lot at stake here. so many people are vulnerable. we need to make sure every. single. vote. is counted to ensure a fair election. your vote matters! please don’t let it stop at just casting the vote, make sure it’s been recorded.

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Ah yes, the 5 love languages:

touch starved

my parents never told me they are proud of me

i love Stuff

im so fucken tired please god just let me rest for 5 minutes

hey pay attention to me

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remember to cry for help without guilt-tripping. i know it feels like you’ve been abandoned and betrayed, but it’s probably not true, and it’s not okay to accuse the people around you of something they might not have done.

“i guess none of you like me” could be better phrased as “i feel unloved right now”

“but nobody cares anyway” could be better phrased as “i feel insignificant and i need reassurance”

rather than assuming others’ feelings, give them time to explain them. you’ll usually get a much better answer.

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Call for Contributors: Hypnokink for Trans Rights

Hi everyone.

If you’ve been following me for a bit, you probably remember Hypnokink for Black Lives Matter, the collection of hypno, mind control, and bimbofication themed fiction & audio stories I organized earlier this year. The whole thing was a fundraiser for BLM-related causes. A large group of amazing content creators got on board, and the end result was pretty amazing.  We managed to raise over $1,800 from that, which still kind of knocks me over when I think about it. I bring this up because I’d like to do it again. Like a lot of you, I’m in the US, and like a lot of you, the next week or two (at least) are going to be stressful as hell and just kind of a mental bad time all around. I’d like to do something positive with my time and energy. So, I’m kicking off volume two: Hypnokink for Trans Rights. 

Like it says in the name, this time around we’ll be raising money for trans rights groups. There’s a wide umbrella of options there, and once we start taking donations I’ll have some sort of list of suggestions. (And actually, if you’ve got suggestions for a group or organization who could use some support, let me know.) I’ve spread the word to a few people and got some starting-out interest, but I’d like to cast a wider net for those I might not have thought of or people I don’t know/follow. If you’re interested in contributing some hypnokinky content to this - be it a story, an audio recording, artwork, or whatever else you do - send me a message and let me know. The beauty of the first iteration of this was the broad variety of contributions, and I’d love to have as many people involved as possible. If you’re interested in reading & enjoying the end result of this: great! Stand by for right now. I’ll have more details - contributors involved, suggested donation, exact release date, things like that - by next week. This is just an announcement of what’s coming, and a recruitment effort. Thanks for reading, and I hope to hear from a lot of you soon.

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Suzie’s New Neighbors

By now, Suzie was certain she was dreaming. The world made more sense if this was a dream; the events she was experiencing were so completely divorced from her expectations of consensus reality that it seemed easier to simply pretend that it wasn’t really happening. She wasn’t really standing in the neighbors’ living room, her hands behind her back and her panties around her ankles, staring at a naked man who lounged in a recliner with his eyes closed and his cock–the first real cock she’d ever seen–hard and throbbing. Things like this didn’t really happen. It was just a dream.

And Mrs. Davenport’s words sounded like a dream. “Hello, Cock,” she purred, her voice soft and coaxing as if it wanted to lull Suzie deeper into her sleepy fantasy. “I thought I might introduce you to our new neighbor, Suzie Wellington.” The blonde Caucasian woman reached over and caressed Suzie’s long dark hair with her right hand, while her left hand circled around the base of the thick, flushed shaft in order to help it stand perfectly upright in front of Suzie’s confused, hesitant stare. “Cock, this is Suzie, Suzie, this is my husband’s cock.” It had to be a dream. Real people didn’t talk about genitalia as if they were more important than the person they were attached to.

Mrs. Davenport continued, her soothing tones drawing Suzie further and further into dreamland. “Suzie was all alone when I went over to say hello–her parents are away on vacation, so it’s just Suzie by herself for the rest of the week. Isn’t that lovely, Cock? Just a sweet young college girl, home alone and looking for some company. We talked for ages, didn’t we, pretty Suzie doll?” The stroking fingers tangled into her hair, guiding Suzie’s head into a slow, lazy nod, and somehow it made perfect sense that the older woman was agreeing for her. Things like that happened in dreams. Suzie didn’t need to try to understand it, only accept the strangeness for what it was.

“And it turns out that you and Suzie have something in common!” Mrs. Davenport cooed, giving the cock in her hand a little wiggle as if she was a puppeteer demonstrating its excitement. “She’s a very good subject too, just like you. She’s such an attentive listener, and she follows instructions so well… I simply knew the two of you had to meet. I’m sure you’ll get along wonderfully. You’re just the perfect fit for her!” The blonde woman chuckled. Suzie smiled blankly, responding more to the warmth and happiness in Mrs. Davenport’s tone than anything about the words. They simply wouldn’t parse properly in Suzie’s sleepy brain no matter how hard she tried.

“So anyway,” the older woman went on, her fingers gripping Suzie’s hair a little tighter, “I invited her over to come and say hello. I think she might even want to stay the night with us–it’s probably dark and scary in that big empty house, and she might welcome someone to cuddle with. Someone to rest with. Someone to sleep and dream with, isn’t that right, Suzie girl?” Suzie nodded. Or was nodded. She couldn’t keep track anymore. “Of course it is. Everything I say is right. Cock here knows how that works. Cock is such a good listener. He deserves a little kiss for being so smart, doesn’t he, Suzie?”

If this was real, Suzie would have said no. But she was only dreaming, a wonderful dream that made her cunt leak and her mouth water. Her head went up and down in another slow, lazy nod, and her lips parted in a sleepy smile. Slowly, inexorably, she was drawn down until the cock in Mrs. Davenport’s hand filled her entire world.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)

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it's 2022. donald trump has died in disgrace days after being impeached and jailed. my chemical romance's new album is coming out the same day as the new spiderverse movie. the lizzo and janelle monaé collab song is blowing up the radio. lil nas x has a verse in it. you and your partner have time and energy for dates after work after jeff bezos' assets have been seized and distributed to the public in the wake of his arrest for keeping employees in unsafe working conditions.

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Fractionated

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people who think the smaller person can’t be the “big spoon” are cowards

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I’ve had some pretty wild depression the past couple years. I’m finally starting to work through it - with art. This is the first piece I’ve made for myself in around ten years, and… yeah.

I am doing better, not in any harm’s way (please don’t worry, mom). I just needed to get it out. Thanks for reading, I know it’s long. EDIT: to clarify, the “Jason is a wolf in sheep’s clothing” article is totally fictional – it’s a recurring dream I’ve been having since early 2016. None of my exes ever wrote anything like that, especially the conglomeration represented on page here. They’re kind and wonderful human beings and I am absolutely mortified I didn’t make that clearer to begin with. I’ve since edited the art to clarify that. Sincerest apologies, it wasn’t something any of my beta readers flagged and it wasn’t something that crossed my mind.

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If you enjoy expertly crafted hypnotic erotic writing, then there's few finer than Jukebox.

A Fairly Boring Metapost Regarding Commissions

(Crossposted from https://jukeboxemcsa.wordpress.com/2020/09/13/a-fairly-boring-metapost-regarding-commissions/)

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 146 sweet and friendly Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

Hi folks! My commissions list is looking pretty clear at the moment, so I figured I’d take a moment to mention that I am open for commissions as well as reminding my newer readers what exactly commissioning me for a story costs and what it gets you.

Commissions cost $50. For that, you will get a story of at least 2000 words, featuring a premise and characters of your choosing (I do reserve the right to veto certain hard limits, such as incest, scat, raceplay and pedo). You can be as detailed as you want in your suggestions, but I do generally recommend you keep it down to a general description of the plot and characters; in general, I’ve found that the more detailed the story is in your head before it gets to me, the better off you are just writing it yourself.

I don’t promise a specific time frame for commissioned stories, because sometimes it does take a little while to figure out exactly how I’m going to turn a concept into a finished work, but I won’t charge anyone until the rough draft is completed, and I always guarantee at least six months of exclusive access to the piece when it’s done. It’s usually longer (right now, I’m almost a full year ahead of even my Early Bird release schedule) but I can definitely promise at least six months. During that time, nobody will see the story except you, me, and my Goddess.

After the exclusivity period is up, it then becomes open for publication like my non-commissioned works. I do generally mention that it’s a commissioned work when I discuss it, although I won’t name the person who requested it unless they specifically ask me to do so.

And that’s pretty much how it works! I’ve done quite a few of these, from stories about very specialized kinks to romantic tales written for couples, and I think they generally turn out pretty darn good (if you don’t mind me being Midwestern for a moment). You can send me a message at jukebox00120000@yahoo.com with your request, so feel free to do so at any time!

(And if you have commissioned me already and haven’t heard back, please email me again. I don’t know of any current requests apart from one or two Patreon supporters who’ve sent me suggestions, but I can’t be sure that something hasn’t slipped through the cracks of 2020’s waking nightmare. A reminder works wonders!)

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Okay, reblog for the health knowledge boost (because I did not know this was a thing).

But... I just... have so many questions.

If I'm pulling your head down to my crotch, it's for you to pleasure me, not to try turning me into a balloon animal.

This won’t make your blog look ugly. How could you not reblog this? REBLOGGING THIS COULD SAVE A LIFE!!!

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You don’t owe anyone anything

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I'm so glad I'm already in my bunk... fffuck

A Dreamy Little Dolly

Another orgasm ripped through Linda’s body, but this time she barely even wriggled. Her arm reached languidly out at nothing in particular, finally settling for a sleepy caress of her own pale cheeks before flopping onto the sheets in boneless ecstasy. “That’s right, pretty fuckdoll,” Arthur murmured, pushing two fingers in and out of her slick, soaking pussy. “Deeper and deeper every time she cums for Master, deeper and drowsier just like a good toy. All those muscles melting into peace and pleasure, all those thoughts popping like little soap bubbles and emptying out that sleepy mind. Good girl.”

Linda sighed happily, the only outward sign of the intense pleasure that kept building with every powerful thrust into her dripping cunt. She could feel her limbs relaxing into helpless, paralyzed bliss, and she reveled in the sensation; nothing turned her on quite so much as the drowsy immobility that Arthur induced with his fingers, and he loved fucking her into mindless lassitude every bit as much as she loved sinking deeper into trance for him. “Down and down and down,” he purred, rubbing her clit until another orgasm spiked through her. “The more she cums, the less she thinks. And the less she thinks, the harder she cums for Master.”

Linda’s eyes wouldn’t open anymore, and her muscles no longer obeyed her commands–not that she had any commands to give them. She felt deliciously passive, so empty in mind and body that nothing separated her now from the pleasure she felt. “Fucked out for Master, fucked all the way out for Master,” Arthur cooed, his fingers sinking in all the way to the knuckle with every thrust. “No mind, no will, nothing but deep, drowsy bliss in Master’s total control. She’s just a dolly now, just an empty vessel for Master’s programming. Every word I speak sinks all the way down into the very center of his good girl’s sleepy brain, turning her into the puppet she dreams of being.” Linda barely even twitched, but her deep self was screaming in ecstasy.

She was too deep to count anymore, but something must have told Arthur that she’d experienced enough orgasms to go into a totally cataleptic state, because he removed his fingers and rolled her onto her back. She flopped bonelessly out onto the mattress, completely limp and helpless, and she could feel his cock pressing against the entrance to her pussy as he climbed on top of her and straddled her hips. “Totally helpless, good girl,” he growled, his voice thick with lust. “Totally blank and obedient. Nothing but a pretty little dolly for Master to fuck any way he wants.” Linda knew deep down that it wasn’t true–no matter how deep she went, she could still safeword–but this was exactly the fantasy she wanted, and she was happy to stop thinking and let her body be used.

And that was exactly what happened. Arthur slid into her cunt with a single frictionless thrust, pushing easily into her slick, messy pussy like there was nothing but warm butter between her thighs. “Mine to own, mine to use, mine to fuck deeper into obedience.” The words made her cum every bit as hard as the hard cock inside her, and Linda let out a tiny, involuntary whimper at the sheer rush of helpless bliss that overtook her. She was nothing but a doll now, nothing but a mindless fucktoy for her Master… and she couldn’t imagine anything more perfect to be.

(Like this flash fiction? Want to see more? Visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox or drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox if you like my work!)