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baretklap · 2 years ago

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TFV #3: Crusade

Attending the Tokyo Sports Puroresu Awards ceremony was supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. Exactly which part of the routine wasn’t easy to follow? Show up in a nice little suit, get into some conversations with your fellow wrestlers as if they mean something to you; then some photos for the press and at the end of the show, just accept your award and go home with increased prestige to your name. Simple as. You’d think that it would be nothing but a night of relaxation and validation of a year filled with grueling fights. No stakes, no action, zero chance of tomfoolery, right? Right?

Oh boy, was he wrong. The levels of fuckery that’d been reached were truly unprecedented.

Locked inside the janitor’s closet and handcuffed to someone else: It sounded like a new and badly written Hangover movie plot. Except this was no movie. He was perfectly sober and he assumed the same about the woman on the other side of the cuffs ... who stared at him and smiled like it was her birthday and Christmas at the same time.

Or maybe she was not sober at all. No sober woman would drag someone into a closet and handcuff herself to them. Then again, the execution was flawless. He had to give it to her, he was impressed. And it wasn’t like his current predicament was inescapable either. His desire to go for the obvious measures just happened to wane in comparison to his curiosity.

Stay put, The Foreigner told himself silently. Stay put and let her cook.

The road he’d followed so far came with its fair share of bumps and twists and turns before. He’d even gotten himself a trio of dumb idol slaves from the last time someone tried to throw a wrench in his plans. Surprise wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of emotions when it came to the events that were unfolding at the moment. As his harem grew, so did his actual wrestling career. More and more eyes were on him. He wouldn’t have been here in the first place if he wasn’t able to take the bad with the good.

Normally, he wouldn’t even consider a situation like this bad. But it was just so fucking annoying that Utami Hayashishita decided to pull this stunt during a national award ceremony. At least Mina had the common sense to arrange an empty warehouse beforehand.

“People must be looking for us,” he tried to reason with the Red Queen.

“That’s exactly why you should hurry, my hypno-lord,” Utami giggled, booping him on the nose as she teased him. “I don’t plan on uncuffing you with my free will still intact so you know what to do.”

The Foreigner found himself cringing at the nickname she’d used for him. He had his slaves call him plenty of things, ‘hypno-lord’ was not one of them and would never be one of them. Honestly, that was enough reason to enslave her right there and then but that would be playing right into her hands and he wasn’t sure what was her endgame here, so he refrained.

“Why?” he asked back, not an ounce of bafflement had left his voice.

“Ah, don’t panic. We should still have some time before they present the trophies,” Utami said in a cheerful tone. “That also means I can tell you all about ‘why’ if that means it will encourage you to do what you should’ve done already.”

“Fuck it, why not?” he said after a frustrated sigh escaped his lips. His body shifted a bit in the place as he tried to make himself comfortable in the claustrophobic room, as much as he could anyway. “Go on, please tell me what prompted you to do all of this.”

Utami gave him a look of pleasant surprise before letting out a giddy little giggle. She closed her eyes and turned her back, inadvertently causing the chain that bound the cuffs to yank on his wrist.

Then she started to recall and recount.

“It all started during my childhood. I come from a family of twelve and we all starred in a reality show about our big family, headlined by my father, ‘Big Daddy’ Kiyoshi Hayashishita. I always had to scratch and claw my way amongst my siblings to get my parents attention, even more so with the show going on. That made me quite the fighter an-”

“Hayashishita, what the fuck are you rambling about? Do you want me to be your hypnotist or your therapist? I can’t be both,” The Foreigner groaned. If Utami was going to tell all her life story then they’d be here for hours. “I already know about your family, anyone can go and read your biography. I’m more interested in the bits that actually are relevant to ... well, our situation.”

“Jeez, what a spoilsport,” the red-head pouted before conceding the point. “But okay, I’ll skip some parts, just for you, my sweet hunky ‘tist.”

The feeling of cringe did not dissipate, yet he still responded with a small nod anyway while Utami looked ready to abandon the dramatics and get on with the tale he wanted her to tell.

“The first time I saw you was after I had that time limit draw with Syuri…”

.......

Everything hurt. Bones, muscles, tendons, everything. Sixty minutes. A full fucking hour. Utami was in the ring for an hour, wrestling relentlessly in every single second of it. It would be unbelievable in any other circumstances but the pain and the soreness worked together to make sure she believed all of it. She carried the receipts all over her body. Today, she made history. She stood in the squared circle, faced one of the nastiest fighters to ever grace a wrestling ring, a former UFC alumna nonetheless. And she refused to go down. She didn’t fall, she didn’t lose. Utami Hayashishita was still the top dog in STARDOM. Still the world champion. Syuri couldn’t take that away from her.

Yet, Utami wasn’t happy in the slightest. Even though she entered the ring a champion and left a legend, she still wasn’t happy. Syuri couldn’t beat Utami, that much was true, but it also held up vice-versa. Utami didn’t lose … but she didn’t win either. That flimsy little detail was enough to tug at her after what should normally be a star-making performance. Apparently, this bother was noticeable enough for her to get called out for it.

“Utami, you’re so competitive.” Her ears picked up on the words of her best friend Saya Kamitani, appropriately nicknamed as Tall Saya.

Her length helped Utami greatly as she leaned on her for support after everything she had put her body through today.

“That competitiveness is what got you to the top,” Saya elaborated.

“Just don’t let this bring you down, okay?. You were amazing today. The old hag might’ve not gone down tonight, but she’s on the last limbs of her career anyway. She probably left everything she had in the ring today. But you’re in your prime, you have years of fuel left in the tank. Next time, you’re going to crush her and we’re going to laugh together at how needlessly sad you were when she managed to get a lucky draw against you.”

The Red Queen appreciated her kind words and she didn’t especially disagree with them either. Saya was a good friend but Utami was aware of Kamitani’s crush on her. It was a crush Saya utterly failed at hiding. It was also a crush that Utami wasn’t really sure she reciprociated. She even felt guilty at times for it, thinking that she was leading Saya on. However, the fighting prowess of the tall woman nearly matched hers and their chemistry in the ring was top notch. Saya was definitely the perfect tag team partner for The Red Queen. Her friendship was something she desperately wanted not to ruin. It was definitely not a conversation she looked forward to having; she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to have.

“We can go and grab some drinks if you want to. We can definitely use some unwinding after such a long night, I mean. Even if you still want to sulk about your match, we can at least celebrate my tournament victory! What better way to celebrate than doing it together!” Saya offered with perky excitement in her tone.

Right, Saya had won her tournament today, right. That was actually a pretty big deal but Utami had completely forgotten about her friend’s victory until she brought it up a second ago.

“My father attended today’s show, actually. He’s going to come and pick me up, but thanks for the offer anyway, Saya. I’d love to do it later.” Utami answered that inquiry with a slight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Saya responded with a frown that made Utami feel even worse. The frown didn't last long before it abdicated its place to a smile again.

“Oh, Big Daddy Hayashishita is here?” Saya asked, clearly intrigued by the prospect, though she easily let it go. “You must be very tired after wrestling for a freaking hour! Go get your rest, queen.”

After the tall girl helped Utami to the parking lot, she dropped her off, gently laying Utami’s bags next to her before taking her leave. With Kamitani gone, Utami Hayashishita found herself completely alone. Alone at the top, alone at the parking lot. It was in the middle of June but she felt chilly somehow.

She wished she hadn’t made up the lie about her father attending the show. Looking around, she looked for ways to go back to her hotel. Kamitani wasn’t the only friend Utami had from her wrestling group called Queen’s Quest, though she didn’t have a diversity of choices ready either. AZM was too young to drive, so she was out of the question immediately. Maybe Momo was still around? She was perfectly reliable when it came to things like this. Not to mention how she was probably the only acceptable option now that Utami had driven Saya away with a totally unnecessary lie. Her eyes continued to scan the area, occasionally interrupted by some people passing by her to congratulate her or whatever. In Utami’s eyes there was nothing to congratulate. She couldn’t find Momo, but she saw someone more interesting.

It was that bastard Syuri. She felt her blood boil again, as if staring at her face for a full hour wasn’t enough for a single day.

Leaning on a grey Hyundai, her rival was fully engaged in a conversation with a man. At first, Utami only focused on Syuri, who was smiling and laughing along. Needless to say, this only served to rejuvenate the anger Utami felt.

Such blatant disrespect. The older woman didn’t exactly have time on her side and this was probably one of the last shots she had at true greatness. Syuri couldn’t beat Utami, couldn’t get the job done, couldn’t win the championship belt that currently decorated Utami’s shoulders. Yet, instead of focusing or reflecting on her failure, she was freely flirting with a man as if none of that happened nor mattered to her? How dared she? Who gave her the right to act like that?

As angry as she felt, Utami ultimately decided against causing a scene by walking up to her and confronting her. She wasn’t that miserable. But still, it didn’t stop her from staying put and seething silently.

Eventually, Syuri’s fling opened the door to the grey Hyundai and the gleeful woman entered the car. The man closed the door behind the former UFC fighter. Then, his face turned and his gaze met Utami’s. His gaze was sharp, cutting, as if she was staring into Utami’s very soul. His stare only lasted a second before the man gave the redhead a knowing smile before cutting eye contact, turning back and entering the vehicle himself.

What had just happened? Utami didn’t know, but she could hear her own heartbeat as if it was the only sound in the crowded parking lot.

Loud, thumping, just as confused as she was.

.......

“Nothing was ever the same for me after that…” Utami concluded, her cheeks approaching shades of red that resembled the color of her dyed hair. It must’ve been a very powerful memory for her, The Foreigner concluded.

Who was he kidding? Of course it was, he wouldn’t be in this situation if she didn’t feel this strongly. The lack of oxygen in the closet must’ve been getting to him.

“So, you saw me smiling at you and felt weird about it, am I getting this right? Have you ever been attracted to people before? I’m not talking about love at first sight but something close to that maybe…”

He didn’t expect Utami to let out another giggle.

“Now, I thought you didn’t want to be my therapist,” she said, a finger reaching to boop him on the nose again.

“I haven’t hypnotized you yet so that choice is still up in the air.”

“If you don’t make the right choice then there’s no way we’re getting out of here before it’s too late, I’m afraid.”

In his mind, he was still trying to make sense of this game. It would be easy of him to say ‘fuck it’, coax Utami’s hot body and that devious little mind of hers with his aura, get her to happily free him and continue this evening as if nothing had happened. But the feeling that he was missing something continued to loom over, or maybe it was still nothing more than simple curiosity and he was trying to make it more complicated than it was. Either way, he needed more context, he needed to know more. For that, he had to keep listening to Utami’s stories.

There were worse ways to spend time, The Foreigner supposed.

“So, how did you end up getting back to your hotel that day? Did you call a taxi?” he asked, redirecting Utami to get back on topic.

Utami’s pleasant smile vanished after hearing that question. He probably knew why.

“No, I eventually rode back with her…” Utami answered, though it almost came like a whisper. The name was spit with poison.

“Momo.”

.......

The cold steel of the folded chair met her flesh again. Utami lost count after ten. She could ask all the questions. God knew she had lots of those questions. How long had Momo been planning this? How hard was it for that Starlight brat and the rest of the Oedo Tai scum to convince her to do this? Why? Why? Why?

Starlight Kid had been provoking Momo for a while, trying to get into her head about the leadership of Queen’s Quest. She continuously taunted Momo about how she wasn’t the best anymore, how she wasn’t even the leader of Queen’s Quest like her predecessor wanted her to be. As if the leadership meant anything in a group that always strived to be the best version of themselves, as if.

Did Momo simply fall for those words?

Maybe she was feeling inferior for quite a while. Momo Watanabe was there before all of them, before AZM, before Saya, before Utami. Momo was supposed to be the future ace, yet she couldn’t live up to her full potential. Her shortcomings were never really discussed in the group and maybe it was their negligence that caused Momo to explode like that. In the worst way possible.

Did she hate them? Utami, Saya or even AZM, who was her best friend? Did Momo hate all of them? Did she grow too resentful due to feeling left behind?

Utami wanted to ask, she wanted to scream.

But she did none of that. She knew asking wouldn’t change anything. She would only get laughed at and eat another chairshot to the head for her troubles.

And truth be told, it didn’t really matter anyway. Whatever reason Momo might’ve had, it hurt all the same.

Her unresponsive body was dragged into the corner, near Saya and AZM. They were stacked up like a pile of trash, in the background as Momo celebrated her actions with her new group. Her new friends.

Momo Watanabe hadn’t been Utami’s best friend, but she was a good one. She was reliable, resourceful, a mentor to her when she first entered Queen’s Quest. If it wasn’t for her help, Utami would’ve never become who she was today. Now, she was gone. A friend turned into a foe. A traitor.

Mourning for a friend was honestly more painful than the combined sting of all those chair shots. She laid there, so did what remained of her group. Her head fell to the side, her eyes met Saya’s and then they shifted to AZM’s crying ones.

Did Utami really have any guarantees that they wouldn’t do the same to her once conflicts between them started appearing? Could she trust them to not turn their backs on her when jealousy reared its ugly head? Just how easy would it be for her enemies to manipulate the people Utami considered friends after Momo just proved that doing so wouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world? How co-

She stopped. She took a deep breath.

Utami felt shitty for thinking that way. This was a collective trauma they were going through. Her thoughts shouldn’t have been flocking around the notions of growing some distance away from the friends she still had and building a wall around her emotions. In fact, they should’ve gone the opposite direction. AZM and Saya needed her more than ever. She was the world champion, the ace of STARDOM, the ace of Queen’s Quest. She would endure. She had to endure.

When Oedo Tai left the ring, it was Utami who got up first, helping Saya and AZM to get back. The audience applauded them as they made their way back to their locker room, trying to console the betrayed trio. Not surprisingly, the cheers and the applause accomplished absolutely nothing.

Not a single noise emerged from the trio of women as they sat together in their locker room. AZM’s tears had dried up, Saya’s head was in between her hands. As for Utami, she eventually grew tired of the silence and the TV remote nearby was the solution to that little problem. The small television hung in the corner of the room has opened and on the feed … Utami saw Donna Del Mondo. The trio of Maika, Himeka and Natsupoi, to be more specific. She had seen them win another match early in the day, not to mention Syuri dismantling three opponents one-by-one in under ten minutes.

What did the Donnas have that Queen’s Quest didn’t? The hierarchy in their ranks was definitely more definitive than Queen’s Quest’s … yet everything was going all sunshine and rainbows with them. They had all the reasons for conflicts, for frictions, for jealousy, for defections, yet fucking 'Kumbaya' was all they sang. Their leader Giulia was clearly being outshined on a regular basis by Syuri. Natsupoi was basically a Cosmic Angels member in a DDM coat of paint. With all those glaring issues, what did they have that kept them together?

While AZM and Saya kept their focus on grieving over Momo’s betrayal, Utami’s eyes remained fixated on the scene.

DDM won their match. Because of course they fucking did.

Her mind reverted back to that time she saw Syuri with the man in the parking lot. Utami later found him out to be one of the New Japan guys. Truth be told, she’d been kinda intrigued by him ever since that day. She’d been doing her research, watching his matches, closely following his media appearances. He was close with Syuri, close with the whole Donna Del Mondo, actually. She didn’t even know why she was so fixated on him. Surely his good looks and promising portfolio of wrestling matches didn’t warrant borderline stalker-ish behaviour from her, did they?

She didn’t answer her own question as she felt a set of arms around her, disrupting her inner monologue. Saya was hugging her. AZM followed suit. Tension in her body released as she released another deep breath. It was clear. They needed her.

But Utami needed something too. She just wasn’t sure what … or who.

.......

“I’m guessing you’d found it, otherwise we wouldn’t really be here together, would we?” The Foreigner asked, fully aware that he was probably asking the most rhetorical question in the history of rhetorical questions. Well, unless Utami planned to pull a legendary plot twist, that is.

An overly sweet nod accompanying an overly sweet smile was the overly sweet redhead’s answer. The master hypnotist used his non-cuffed hand to wipe small drops of sweat from his forehead.

“Are you ready to claim me now?” Utami asked, lightly wiggling in her place in anticipation. “I promise to make your wait worthwhile, Master.”

At least she'd dropped the embarrassing pet names. He looked at Utami’s cute little face before grabbing the chain that bound their cuffs together. She was cuffed to him as much as he was cuffed to her and The Foreigner used that fact to yank the chain, pulling Utami towards him. They were real close now.

A cool smirk was on his face now, his smooth lips just inches away from Utami’s quivering ones. She was prepared from the start to give herself to him. Was the man who owned not one but two whole groups in Utami’s workplace finally ready to start worming his way up into a third one?

He saw Utami close her eyes, her lips slowly pushing forward, ready for the kiss of her life.

“Continue the story,” he said before gently pushing her away from that intimate position. He didn’t put much of his aura into the command, almost next to none, but Utami already had the obedience part covered even without him pushing for it.

He was enjoying this.

“Though I probably know what comes next.” he continued, there was an event involving Utami very close in date to Momo Watanabe’s betrayal of Queen’s Quest. He remembered it well, for multiple reasons.

Utami had recovered from the shock by that point and continued the story as he wished.

.......

The curtains that separated the backstage area and the entrance ramp parted in the middle and out emerged The Red Queen. She was in front of her subjects now and the champion of STARDOM was ready to carry her symbol of excellence into the future and beyond. It’d barely passed the mark of one week after the Momo incident but Utami had no time to dwell on that. The pyrotechnics went off behind her, amplifying the greatness of her already-grandiose entrance, hyping the fans even more for the arrival of the greatest professional wrestler in the world. Utami Hayashishita had beaten many opponents, defended her title against many pretenders. This time was going to be no different, no matter the circumstances. She was the fucking Red Queen. It had to be her, it couldn’t be anyone else.

Utami subconsciously continued to swirl her signature rose in her hand while her eyes met her opponent from a distance. A very familiar opponent.

The old hag stared back. Syuri was still in the game, stronger than ever after winning the biggest tournament of the year, granting her another shot at Utami and her world championship belt. Their last meeting ended with much frustration for Utami. Now was the time to make up for that misstep.

Instead of entering the ring directly and starting the match immediately, Utami took her sweet-ass time, circling around the ring instead. Normally, she would’ve given her rose to a random member of the audience by now, preferably someone sitting close to the ramp instead of someone from the sections around the ring. One of the commentators was fair game too, but they also failed to receive her rose today. Utami had her target plain in sight.

DDM’s secret prince was in the audience, perfectly unaware of how he drove Utami crazy. But it was all okay, Utami was never handed anything in life, she always fought for it. Today, he would see first-hand just how much of a fluke the first match was on Syuri's behalf. His existence was giving the DDM girls extra confidence and resolve, that was the conclusion Utami had come to as the result of her research. How else could Syuri win the biggest tournament of the year?

But it was all okay, if Syuri was going to go hard because of his presence, then Utami would have to go extra hard to compensate for that. She never backed down from a challenge.

Her forbidden fruit would have to watch her destroy his beloved Syuri. But Utami already had plans to make it up to him. In fact, she stopped circling around the ring like a vulture, finally standing in front of a section of fans. Giving Syuri one last glance, she turned around and extended her arm. The old hag wanted to steal her title, her crown from her. She could try. Turnabout was always fair play. Utami was going to steal her man’s heart in return.

Her heart started pounding as she offered her rose to him, praying that he would take it. Three thousand people were watching her in the arena with even more people watching it online. She didn’t care. Only for that moment, nobody else existed in the arena. Not even Syuri. Just Utami and him. To her absolute joy, he accepted her rose after offering back the same assuring and warm smile he gave her in the parking lot. That’s how Utami knew that everything was going to be alright. She turned back, climbed the steel steps and was in the ring immediately after that.

Last time, they went over 60 minutes, with no winners. But this time, there was no time limit in the match, meaning that there had to be a winner. Utami was going to win it. The ‘no time limit’ stipulation be damned, she wasn’t even going to let it go to 60 minutes this time.

And she didn’t, because it only took 36 minutes.

For Syuri to beat her.

She lost. Utami had lost. When she opened her eyes again, Syuri was already given the championship belt that used to be hers.

The former champion tried to raise her head, her eyes looking for him. He was watching with a proud smile as Syuri celebrated with the title she took from her.

She closed her eyes again, waiting for it to be just a bad dream. She would open her eyes again and wake up again. Maybe the belt would still be with her. Maybe Momo would still be with them. Maybe. Just maybe.

But when she opened her eyes back again, the reality didn’t change. She had lost and she had to live with that now.

Fuck.

.......

The Foreigner didn’t know which was sweeter, reminiscing about Syuri's big victory or seeing Utami pout at his amusement of said reminiscence. If Utami knew the full details of what happened after the show, then there would be no way she could blame him for letting a big dumb smirk decorate his face.

Giulia, Maika, Himeka and ‘Poi all worshipping Syuri’s body with their hands and their mouths. The all-conquering champion was handed the privilege to command her friends for that day like her Master did every single day. The expensive royal suite, the heavenly king-sized bed. The greatest orgy ever. The world championship belt. God. And after god, The Foreigner.

“For what it’s worth…” he said, laying smugly in his place. “...I did keep the rose.”

“Y-you did?” Utami asked, blushing like a maiden.

“Why wouldn’t I? The world champion of the time had specifically given me a rose, not many men can claim the same thing.” he shrugged, using simple logic.

“Sure, the world champion of the time didn’t remain that for long after that, but still…” he then teased, dealing another blow to Utami after she had to recall that experience.

“You’re right, I don’t give my roses to many men.” Utami responded, finding herself some flat object to sit on. It was a miracle how nobody had interrupted them yet, honestly. “But you’re not ‘many men’.”

“Oh, on that much we agree.” He was pretty bold with his words. He had all the reasons to be.

Not many men got roses from a beautiful champion like Utami. Not many men had two different wrestling factions bound to his will and worshipping him like obedient slaves. Not many men at all. There was much to be proud of in being unique.

“And giving you the rose wasn’t the only thing I did to appease you.”

“Do you remember the interview you gave to the Tokyo Sports magazine back in February?” Utami asked, her uncuffed hand running through her hair.

.......

“We’re finally here!” Saya squealed as they stopped in front of the hairdresser shop.

Utami was glad she was finally getting to do something nice for Saya. She’d promised to take the taller girl to her hairdresser and having the week off meant that the plan could finally come to fruition.

Tall Saya pushed the glass door and the two ladies entered the shop. Utami’s hairstylist was busy with a customer at the moment but she still took the moment to greet the former champion and her best friend.

“Let’s sit down.” Utami offered as it became apparent that her hairdresser wouldn’t have her hands free for quite some time.

Some magazines laid on the table as they always did. Fashion, home architecture, music and Tokyo Sports. Saya took the last one and gave it a quizzical look, which didn’t escape Utami’s eye.

“I’m a regular here so the owner puts Tokyo Sports on the table in case I show up.” she explained to Saya, who had opened the magazine and was in the process of going through some pages arbitrarily.

Utami let her do that while she didn’t particularly try to pass time with magazines. Her mind was already occupied enough. Quite frankly, the storms that brewed within her head were the primary reason she was having this relaxing outing with Kamitani anyway. It was a shame her stylist still had some work to do with her current customer, prompting The Red Queen to wait until the owner of the shop gave her the perfect opportunity to dispel those thoughts.

“So … “ Saya dragged the word out. “What are you going to do with your hair today?”

“I don’t know, really. Maybe refresh the colour? I’m not planning drastic changes, we’re here more for you than me, honestly,” Utami replied.

“Oh, good to know,” her friend smiled back. “Your hair is lovely like this, Utami! I think long red locks suit you perfectly. I don’t think you should change it at all.”

A nervous giggle also escaped Kamitani’s lips. It was an awkward enough sound to push her face back to her magazine and shut up for a minute. Utami found it endearing, however, despite not feeling any more ready to talk about Saya’s ongoing crush on her.

“That’s just great…” Utami heard her break her silence. Saya was rolling her eyes as well while gently slapping the page she had been reading to indicate her displeasure with it.

“Another article about Syuri’s championship reign. If those journalists love her soooo much then they should just marry her and be done with it.”

Utami really wanted to ‘thank’ Saya for not making it easy to stop thinking about her recent shortcomings but she elected not to. She was better than that. Hayashishita just closed her eyes instead and let out a deep breath. Maybe the magazines weren’t such a bad idea…

“Oh, they also have an interview with that New Japan guy you just don’t shut up about.”

“Give me!” Utami said instantly, hand reaching for the magazine.

And now Saya was giving her a weird look.

“... for the Syuri article … !” Utami was the least convincing person in the world right now. “I-I want to ridicule it, I swear! She s-sucks, yeah, Syuri sucks! Totally!”

Saya handed her the magazine anyway, though not without rolling her eyes again with greater vitriol this time. Then, her hands hastily grabbed another magazine. As her friend did that, Utami realized something. Talking about him annoyed Saya a lot more than talking about Syuri. Which was pretty telling of how Utami talked about him, she supposed. Even though she tried to keep the secret nature of her feelings to a minimum, like always talking about his match quality or whatnot, she guessed Saya was smart enough to get all the necessary hints from her tone and all that.

But reading the interview with him took precedence over trying to reassure her friend. Kamitani was quick to flare and her anger was quick to die down. She would forget about it soon and the issue wasn’t even serious anyway. Certainly not serious enough to bother her reading time.

He just looked so ravishing in his photo that covered both the pages like a poster. She licked her lips on pure instinct before hoping Saya didn’t see it.

He had such a way with words. He gave such eloquent answers describing his thought process on staging a coup against his former group leader, resulting in him taking over as the new leader of the pack. His primary goal was to win the world championship on his own promotion. Such noble desires, she always took him for a man who had no problems just taking what he wanted. As far as she had watched him, he hadn’t proved her wrong. The girls of Donna Del Mondo had a weird relationship with him, a relationship apparently nobody but her really noticed. She didn’t make it a big fuss out of it by talking about it to others either. Utami was sure he’d appreciate his privacy.

Tokyo Sports usually asked off-topic questions to the athletes they interviewed as well with him being no exception to the rule. Her eyes became glued to the pages of the magazine as she read a question about his taste in women.

‘I don’t know how cliche I can get with this but I do like confident and strong girls. Why wouldn’t I? I’ll also admit that I have a soft spot for short hair on women, I don’t mean buzzcut or anything but something around the neck-length would be ideal.’

His answer did not elaborate more than that and after a few more passages, Utami had finished reading the article. She laid the Tokyo Sports magazine back on the table, in front of Kamitani in case she wanted to pick up from where she was left off. She raised her head again after that, only to see that the customer that kept her hairdresser busy was preparing to leave. Now available, the hairdresser soon walked up to them, ready to take them away from the magazines and the unspoken crush dramas.

“Alright, Utami, I will have you first.” she asked her first, prompting Utami to get up. “So, what do you want me to do with your hair today?”

As she approached the chair, Utami had a smile on her face and crystal clarity in her voice.

“I want to try something new today.”

.......

“We had a big fight because of that haircut, you know? Saya didn’t talk to me for a month after that day,” revealed Utami. Even though she tried to cover it with chuckles, The Foreigner did end up sensing the tiniest hint of bitterness in his stalker’s voice.

“And I don’t think our friendship really recovered from that. Sure, we still joke around. We still tag sometimes. But she’s nowhere near as close to me as she used to be.”

His response didn’t vocalize immediately. Instead, he wiggled his way an inch or so closer to Utami, catching her by total surprise as his hand reached out to brush some of her crimson hair behind her ear. It would be pretty redundant to mention the intense blush making its return on her cheeks. Both her hands closed around his almost on instinct. They felt so soft, her grip was almost non-existent. It was easy for him to draw his hand back. From her hands, at least, the cuffs were still on.

“I think short hair looks perfect on you, Utami.” the compliment was accompanied with a charming smile. He had grown way too comfortable with playing the role of the dashing prince.

“T-thank you.” she said, no, squealed was a better term for it. “Then I’d say the haircut was totally worth it.”

“Of course.”

It was too bad he couldn’t find any suitable watch to match with the suit. He had no idea how much time had passed since Utami dragged him here. Well, the story hadn’t reached its conclusion yet, so he figured some more time would be spent as well.

“You cut your hair and suddenly we are here, is that it?” He questioned. “Feels like you still haven’t told me the most important bits.”

“Yes,” Utami nodded as she slowly lowered her hands back. They had hung too long in the air after the warmth of his hand departed from her skin.

“My feelings for you were hard to put into words, honestly. I’d never felt anything like that before,” she admitted. “I did find some clarity eventually, even though it was from the most strange of sources.”

.......

Stalking came in different shapes and purposes. Utami wasn’t proud to admit that her portfolio on that subject was quite diverse. She was already adept at stalking the prime object of her burning desire. She had been collecting tapes, magazines, memorabilia and all sorts of things. Everything that she could own or decipher to figure him out and make her way into his heart would help. But that was all for love. The goal was about something she could share with him.

As the former world champion slithered her way out of the locker room, she reminded herself that this was for her and her only. She didn’t sneak her way into the only female-only gym in the city at goddamn 4 AM without telling anyone for no reason.

The Red Queen wanted her crown back. If that meant she would have to resort to some extreme methods like stalking Syuri then she would be a fool to think even twice about it. The current world champion had recently expressed in an interview that her routine before title matches included working out dead in the night where she would have a whole gym by herself. Utami was going to stalk, no, scout Syuri from a distance. She would take note of every little detail in Syuri’s workout so that she could use them against her rival and take her world title back.

The plan seemed foolproof until Utami realized that Syuri wasn’t there alone. Old hag didn’t mention a sparring partner in her interview. Weirder was the fact that the woman near her was a part of the STARDOM roster and she wasn’t even from DDM. What exactly was Unagi Sayaka of Cosmic Angels doing in the dead of the night with Syuri?

Before Utami’s mind could jump to all sorts of conclusions, the unlikely duo continued whatever conversation they’d had before. Even with the distance, Utami could hear them perfectly.

“You can’t do this to me!.” whined the Cosmic Angel, her arms crossed. “Being up this late seriously messes with my own routine! Do you know how much extra beauty sleep I will need to get after this?”

Syuri didn’t seem to care at all, her smirk was borderline predatory as she eyed Unagi up. This clarified absolutely nothing for Utami.

“Why didn’t you ask someone from your own team to help you train?” Unagi asked. That was one of the questions in Utami’s mind as well. One of many, in fact.

“Because I wanted to play with you instead.” Syuri answered casually. “And because I know you will obey me completely unlike them.”

Utami’s mind had to do a double take after that answer. Was she hearing Syuri correctly? O-obey? What was Syuri talking about? Were they in a relationship?

Was Syuri cheating on the man Utami spent months obsessing about … with Unagi? The world had gone insane, Utami was sure of it, nothing made sense in her life anymore.

The list of questions only expanded when she heard Syuri utter a nonsensical phrase and Unagi’s body went stiff for a moment before relaxing completely. The Cosmic Angel had a blank expression on her face, her head tilted slightly to her side. She totally looked like she was in a trance. Her eyes were blankly staring into the distance. Her arms were slack to the point of slightly oscillating from side to side. Utami was sure that the mindless looking woman would fall down with a single poke. Syuri’s gaze grew even more hungry, her hands immediately grabbing the straps of Sayaka’s sports bra before roughly pulling them down.

And it only escalated from there.

Utami felt hot.

Watching them kiss and fuck over the gym equipment. Gazing upon their glorious naked bodies. Hearing Syuri be called ‘Mistress’ by the woman who was being treated, quite frankly, like a sex slave.

Utami didn’t exactly know how she managed to not touch herself and make her presence known to the two lovers(?), but she knew it was quite the miraculous task. Maybe it was her devotion to him that repelled her from pleasuring herself to the possible sight of him getting cheated on. Maybe it was a backlog of battles and hatred she shared with Syuri. But ‘maybe’s were irrelevant.

This was fishy. Utami had massive doubts that this was just some kinky roleplay sex. Unagi might’ve been more proficient at the acting side of wrestling than she was at wrestling side, but no actress in the world had the acting chops to act as if she’d suddenly gone into a deep trance without breaking the character for a single second as every inch of their bodies were used sexually.

The redhead silently uttered the gibberish phrase Syuri used to initiate Unagi’s ‘trance’ to make sure if she still remembered it. She had to get to the bottom of this. As she repeated the phrase once more, Utami realized that she had the means to do so.

.......

“The very next show, I caught Unagi backstage alone. She was surprised to see me approach her. Before she could say anything however, I put her under by using her trigger phrase,” Utami explained. Her heart was beating faster and faster with each second, utterly unable to get a read on him. “I ordered her to tell me everything.”

“And she did,” he realized. His focus departed away from Utami as he pressed his fingertips together. He looked thoughtful.

His periods of silence usually meant that he wanted Utami to continue the story, but that was all there was to it. Utami was taken by his charms and after months of (not so) secretly and (not so) silently obsessing over him, she had grown to find that he could literally charm people to the point of brainwashing them. Everything had led her to this moment.

The moment was at hand for Utami. She had him where she wanted him. It would reflect badly on him in the eyes of the public if he were to not make it in time to humbly accept the award graciously bestowed upon him. Sure, that wouldn’t be the biggest scandal in the world, not even close. However, his career was still young and that meant even the smallest controversy would cause a big headache for the man she wanted more than anything else in the world.

She had accepted him completely. She had accepted his ‘abilities’. She had accepted his desires. She had even accepted the fact that she was going to share him with so many others including her biggest rival. Would she be asking for too much if she just wanted him to accept her love in return?

The silence really unnerved Utami. He should’ve jumped her by now.

“People must be looking for us,” she said, calling back to what he’d said before. Calling him to act as soon as possible. Calling him to claim her.

His head finally turned back to her again. He had a wide grin on his beautiful face, his piercing gaze sizing her up like a full course meal. Utami smiled back. A hopeful warmth had filled her body. Did this mean that he started to work his magic?

His free hand grabbed the chain binding them together and tugged on it, yanking her wrist with it in a rather harsh manner. He did it again and it hurt. Yet, Utami was happier than ever because his message was clear. He wanted her but he wasn’t going to go out his way to jump her. No, he wanted her to come to him instead. So, she did. On her hands and knees. Crawling to him to awaken further desire within the loins that claimed many of her colleagues.

When she got close enough, his arms reached and hugged her. Accepting her love. Utami let out a soft moan as she melted into his embrace. He smelled like a bouquet of roses. It felt so soft, so comfortable. So right.

She never wanted this to end and that made it way all too painful when he suddenly broke the hug. Before Utami could comprehend what was going on, his hands swiftly grabbed her by both shoulders. He turned her around and embraced her again from the back this time. His cuffed arm went around her and the long chain holding the cuffs together was now wrapped around Utami’s triceps, severely restricting the movement of both her upper arms.

Utami was confused and worried. Now it was him who had her dead to rights. As if the space he comfortably occupied in her head wasn’t enough, he had her physically restrained too with the help of the very same handcuffs she used against him. It felt humiliating … It felt hot. So hot. She’d been dealing with arousal the entire time they’d been locked together but this compromising position just turned that up to eleven. It was bad to the point where she had just realized that she’d been rubbing her ass on his crotch since the moment he turned her backwards.

This earned a chuckle from him … and an erection that pressed up against her behind. To know that she aroused him back only served to amplify her excitement.

“I think it’s time I tell you a little story of my own, Utami,” he said in a low tone, but it didn’t matter. His mouth was just an inch or two away from her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin, giving it pleasant little tingles.

She nodded, pretty much all she could do in her position. Her heart was going berserk inside her ribcage. She could barely take it anymore. The Red Queen was turned into a blushing and gushing little maiden in his hands.

“I’m really surprised though!” he said in an amused tone. “I thought you would’ve figured it all out after everything Unagi told you. Suppose not.”

Figure it out? Utami tried to turn her head backwards and try to look at his face, but a soft push from one of his palms blocked that. She was too weak to even attempt to fight. Despite her upper arms having very restricted mobility, the rest of her arms were free to move. He took advantage of that. Grabbing Utami’s free wrist with his own free hand, he gently guided the hand under her kimono … under her panties.

“Rub,” he commanded. Utami let out a squeal before immediately going to work. God, she needed this so bad. She needed him so bad.

“You’ve been hooked on me since the moment our eyes met at the parking lot.” he said with a laugh. “I was trying to charm you. It was the best I could do in that short time period and from that distance.”

He wanted her from the very beginning. It made sense. It made so much sense. He wanted her to want him. He planted the small seeds of desire and obsession within her and with time, they only grew and grew. This revelation only made her strokes more furious as the frequency of her moans increased.

“I really wanted to take my time with this one as well, my sweet Red Queen,” he teased. She leaned her head back to him. The ethereal sensation of his embrace slowly came back to her. He was doing it, he was turning his aura up. Utami heard enough details from Unagi to know that this was basically him ‘claiming’ his girls, making them his slaves. She kept on rubbing and rubbing. Her eyes rolled back into the head. She was close, so close…

“Stop,” he said.

No. He ordered. His voice had the conviction of a god. His power over her was so strong that it beat out her aching need for release. A gasping sound left her mouth as she shivered from stopping so abruptly.

Then, she nodded, acknowledging that she had and would obey an order. If this didn’t mean that she was properly being claimed, then Utami didn’t know what would. He was taking her, he was enslaving her. Her imagination was already running wild on what her new life as his slave would entail.

“You are not allowed to cum until I finish my story, understand?” he asked and she immediately nodded. “Good. Keep on edging for me, Utami.”

Yet another nod. Her hand found her needy pussy once more. She got to work once more.

“After that epic match you had with Syuri, everything kept going downhill for you, didn’t it?” he continued with the story. Her nods were almost automatic at this point. But she also couldn’t deny that he was right.

“You still think it was Starlight Kid who whispered all those sweet nothings into Momo’s ear? The girl was fiercely loyal to Queen’s Quest. Her change of mind was far from natural, if you know what I mean.”

Her eyes opened wide and her rubbing stopped for a second as she faced that realization. But then the warmth filled her again, as if a hand was pulling her back to the clouds. Softening her, surrounding her. Utami imagined him physically whispering into Momo’s ear as the traitor smiled and nodded, her mushy brain taking his words as heavenly gospel.

“How do you think Syuri won the tournament? How do you think she handed your ass to you and took your title? I trained her, I encouraged her, I made sure that beating you meant everything to her. You stood no chance against her, nobody could’ve beaten her on that night.”

She rubbed, she rubbed, she rubbed. She took everything in like a sponge and she rubbed. Fantasies continued to fill Utami’s dirty little mind. Him having Syuri work out naked in a gym, ordering her to do squats on his cock, promising to drown her in much love and affection if she were to beat Utami like yesterday’s trash. She rubbed and she stopped. She continued to rub again.

“What about poor little Saya Kamitani, the girl was your biggest simp, wasn’t she? And nowadays she barely even talks to you. Do I need to say why at this point?”

Oh fuck. Saya was in on it too. Her cute little face, devoid of any emotion but pure ecstasy, denouncing Utami in front of him as he gave Utami’s best friend all the pleasant sensations in the world before he made any move on Utami herself. The girl was in love with Utami, but his power was strong enough to turn her burning love into nothing but cold apathy. Fuck. She rubbed. She stopped. It was a real close call. She started again.

“Oh, and of course. The finale. You didn’t think it would be easy to notice another person in an empty gym at those hours? Syuri knew you were there from the very beginning. She texted me asking what she should do about it. I told her to trance Unagi and put on a show for you. I wanted them to let you in on the secret. I wanted to see what you would do with the information. You didn’t disappoint, making your way to me eventually.”

All his words, all these revelations, they were all dripped with honey, driving Utami crazier and crazier. Rub. Stop. Rub. Stop. Edge. Edge. Edge. She remembered all the details of their debauchery. She imagined how happy Syuri must’ve felt after getting permission from him to use Unagi as a sex doll just to bait Utami. Poor, helpless Sayaka probably had no clue what was going on. Then again, Utami’s been just as helpless and clueless as her all this time.

“Utami Hayashishita, you had everything. But I took it all from you and replaced them with nothing but me. Your title, Momo, Saya, everything. And now it’s time I take you too.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she repeated, her voice hoarse. ”Please take me, please.”

He whispered into her ear.

“Cum.”

The orgasm shook Utami to her very core. For a moment, she forgot everything. For a moment, the world was nothing but blinding white. What followed was what felt like visions from the future. Her life as her Master’s obedient slave. Worshipping his divine body. Wearing a collar and a leash to signify her place as his pet. Fiercely making out with Syuri at his request, acting submissive to her fiercest rival because he wanted her to. Following his plans and using her own charms to gather more slaves for him. Being part of something greater.

When the afterglow of her orgasm has passed and she came back to her senses, she looked at him with the biggest smile one could ever muster.

“I am yours, Master. What can your humble slave do for you?”

“Remove the cuffs.”

“Yes, Master.”

Utami reached under her kimono once again. Instead of reaching down to touch herself once more, her hand snuck inside her bra. When it was back out again, she was holding a key. She used the key to uncuff her Master as he requested.

He rubbed his wrist for a moment before giving his new slave a kiss on the forehead. Utami giggled into the kiss, completely overjoyed by the events that had unfolded in this tiny janitor’s closet. He soon reached for the door.

“Can’t stay here forever, have an award to accept. And if I remember it right, you have one too. So, I wouldn’t be very late if I were you.”

Then, he was out of the room, leaving Utami alone in the closet. Alone with her own thoughts, the very same thoughts he owned.

Once upon a time, Utami Hayashishita had everything she could’ve ever wanted.

Then she lost them all and was left with nothing.

But now, she had everything once more.

.......

”Fuck, that was so hot,” were the first words that left Giulia’s mouth once her Master had finished recalling the story of how he recruited the mighty Utami Hayashishita as her newest slave-sister.

“I know you’re quite fond of using your influence on other people to enslave a certain target…” she recalled. He’d done the exact same thing to Giulia too. Maika, Syuri, Himeka, Natsupoi. They were all brainwashed by Master before her and they all worked together to bring Giulia under. She cherished the memories dearly.

“But did you really do all of that? Seems a bit excessive.” she said as she playfully snugged to him in the bed they shared. She’d won the bed privileges by winning her last match and she was going to use it to full extent. “How come I haven't seen Watanabe or Kamitani with you? I feel like you would’ve told us if you snatched those two, and well, you would've used them alongside us. I mean, is someone really hypnotized by you if I hadn't been ordered to eat them out?”

Giulia didn’t expect Master to let out a hearty chuckle to that, but his joy was her joy, so she laughed as well.

“Nah, I totally made the whole master plan thing up on the spot.”

Now Giulia understood why he seemed so amused.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Look, it doesn’t matter if I actually orchestrated all those events and enslaved her friends or not. The precious Red Queen believes that I did, and that’s all that matters. She believes that everything she’s lost is because of me and that means she can’t get them back without my approval. In her mind, everything loops back to me. I am all there is for my dearest Utami.”

“Master, that’s horrible!” Giulia said before another laugh. A playful jab landed on his chest. “And so hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he confirmed. “But Giulia, I thought you knew better than that..”

Giulia’s genuine smile turned into an awkward one. She rubbed the back of her head. Did she displease her Master somehow?

“I’d rather have you sucking my cock than trying to poke holes in my fabricated master plans.”

She nodded profusely as she swiftly moved to give him another blowjob. He caressed her platinum locks as she did so.

“Such a good girl,” he purred. “And if you feel disappointed that I didn’t end up enslaving Momo or Saya, well … all in due time.”

“All in due time," he repeated.

Then he closed his eyes and let pleasure overtake him once more. There would be only one way to go from here: Upwards.

#hypnostory #hypnomanip

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bimbotransgirl · 10 months ago

Text

Soooo hottttt!!!

Need hypno to wash away my smarts so I can be what I truly am

Empty

She tried not to listen, she really did-- but the neighbors were making it legitimately impossible, with their shouts and laughter and the kind of raised voices that usually were a telltale sign of being high. She could have closed her windows, but it was a hot night and besides, she had become strangely invested in the whole affair despite herself. The whole conversation was, in its particular way, fascinating. In fact at some point Andrea had to assume this was some sort of strange performance art titled: How long can four people hold a conversation without ever uttering a single interesting thing?

Topics ranged from “how drunk X was on Y night”, “stories of dumb shit I did while drunk”, “my crazy ex” to the masterful synthesis that was “how drunk my crazy ex got and what she told X on Y night, who also was so drunk.” Andrea had little choice but to admire the commitment to mediocrity. One would think that given a group of four and three hours, statistically speaking something interesting would come up sooner or later, even if by accident: maybe a drunken political statement, or one of those drug-induced metaphysical revelations that made dumb fucks go “woah, that’s deep, man.” Just… anything not related to getting wasted and crazy women. Anything of substance at all. The world was full of situations to have a right chat about, but the neighbors bravely steered away from them all with the skill of an Olympic skier dodging trees. These fuckers were doing triple helixes over anything of substance and sticking the landing every time. It was a thing of utterly depressing beauty.

She felt so alone. She tried telling herself that the quartet of banality next door were an anomaly, a particularly vapid sample of the general population, but she knew better. She was the anomaly. Most people simply didn’t give a fuck about important things, and when they did, they usually spouted misinformed, simplistic, braindead takes regurgitated from some online poster or another. It hurt. People had always told her “oh, you’re so smart!”, or “damn, how do you know about that?”, or “girl, you’re brilliant!”; they all meant it as compliments, but they sure didn’t feel positive to her. Sure, she smiled and cloaked herself with false modesty when she encountered such statements, but she knew very well that when she walked into a room chances were she’d be the smartest person in it. It was terrible.

Listening to the neighbors she wondered if they could ever know how she felt. Of course they couldn’t. They couldn’t know what it felt to dumb down their speech, knowing that saying what was truly in her mind would be a waste, for the listener lacked the basis to comprehend a complex, nuanced idea. They couldn’t know how it felt to be treated like living fucking wikipedia by everyone, because apparently googling shit was harder than asking the smart girl. They couldn’t even fathom what it was like to try dating: trapped between posing men that tried to impress her with facts and trivia and pointless debate and nice guys who served a purpose for a while but inevitably became boring and frustrating as they failed to understand her over and over again.

Sometimes she felt the only ones that could relate to her were strangers online, which added to her frustration with her chatty neighbors on their terrace. How on Earth was she supposed to relax and edge looking at good content with that bunch spewing nonsense three meters away?

A part of Andrea was slightly worried about her online habits. It was true, no doubt, that she was spending more and more time looking at her phone or her PC, sleeping less and less, often going to work with barely a couple of hours of rest to keep herself semi-sharp. Not that her work required more than the ability to filter out the inane bullshit around her and mastering the art of suppressing the urge to reply to all business emails with “This is meaningless. This contributes nothing to human growth or prosperity, and our jobs shouldn’t exist. Thank you, fuck you, bye.” Sadly, she couldn’t afford to tell everyone to go straight to Hell and get gangbangd by demons, so she endured in silence and occasionally used her smarts to make herself invaluable to the company.

...And now she was thinking about work. Fuck. Miserable in the office, miserable at home because she would have to return to the office. That settled it. She was going to have her goddamn escapism and if the chatty neighbors naged to hear something, hey, good for them. She logged on, and the world melted away.

It felt like home, much more than her apartment, her city, or even the house in which she had grown up. All those were places of loneliness; the site was a community, a sort of self-actualized society playing by rules that made sense, with a purity of purpose lacking in everyday life. In the website everyone could be whoever they wanted to be, paradoxically free within the limits of the screen. It was all performance to some degree, of course. People chose and curated what they posted, how they reacted, who they followed. It was something like psychological self-design: you looked at what you had chosen and the site suggested similar things, more of what you enjoyed but maybe slightly different, slightly more extreme, slightly darker. Every now and then you discovered a new side to your kink, your body reacted to something unexpected and unthinkingly you hit that “follow” button and the site would learn a little bit about you that you yourself didn’t know, and like a skillful dom subtly pushing their sub it shifted your limits and tastes just a little bit at a time… Andrea liked that: It felt like the site knew her, understood her in ways that sometimes shocked her, toyed with her mind and libido and existed only to give her a safe haven from a grey, dull world.

That particular evening the site welcomed her with an animated caption. Oh, she loved those. Anything could be turned into the most perverted of ideas just by the skilful addition of a few words. A simple sexy swimsuit picture, the kind that barely was worth noticing suddenly became a call to embrace the patriarchy, to expose her body, to destroy her boring life and be reborn as something else. It was the power of language: it got inside her head more than anything else, because thoughts were built on language itself-- to read was to let some foreign mental being colonize her brain, just for a little while. To read was to surrender and let someone else’s thoughts inside her. It was a profound intimacy, a sort of consensual mind rape.

She let the words and images wash over her as she rubbed her needy cunt under her shorts. It was all fantasy, of course, but she couldn’t help mouthing along to the words. “I’m just a fucktoy”... “Good girls obey”... “Good girls never cum”... “Toy always on display”... “I don’t need a mind, I need cock”... “Good girls make more good girls”...

If she had been truly aware of herself, she would have noticed the slight changes, the way the words made more and more sense, the way time shrunk and twisted and hours passed without her even noticing, the way she was refusing herself the release of an orgasm. Good girls edge. God girls never cum. It was all fantasy, that much she knew; but her body was soon covered in sweat and drool and the need to blur the line between fantasy and reality.

One content creator had a special effect on her. She had no idea who he was, or where he was from. She only knew he understood her, even if she had never dared to dm him. He was inside her, she was sure of it with the certainty of madness. He teased her mind, molded it, chose the exact words and images to make her feel weak and docile and slutty… and she loved it. She loved him, loved the image she had built of him in her head: she saw him as a somehow strange, not quite human being; a ghost in the site that haunted it and her, like a living virus feeding her addiction.

Dawn caught her by surprise. She had no memory of anything except edging and feeling empty and dumb and horny and needing to be useful, used, abused. She had been scrolling through His page and at some point everything had gone… blurry. It was a first for her, a line crossed: she would go to work with no sleep at all, just because she was edging her needy pussy like a mindless animal. That realization only made her spend the last hour before work playing with her big, sensitive tits, just to be sure she wouldn’t accidentally cum at the last moment. She didn’t even shower, and went to the office smelling of sex, sweat and arousal.

The day went in a haze. She got home fully prepared to collapse on her bed and let the sweet, sweet arms of Morpheus take her away. Then her phone pinged. She knew exactly what it was: Andrea only had notifications enabled for a single creator on the site. It could wait. She could look at it after sleeping. She should, in fact. Yes, that would be the smart thing to do. Oh, that idea hit her like a train: yes, it would be the smart thing to do, but wasn’t it more fun to do the dumb thing? The slutty thing? Her eyelids felt heavy like tombstones, and yet she reached for the phone.

There exists a place, or a state of existence most people only experience briefly: the liminal area between sleep and wakefulness, where judgement is eroded and the boundaries between dream and reality become a blur. Usually, a person either falls asleep or snaps awake immediately and so they don’t explore that most peculiar mental space. Andrea, on the other hand, found herself stuck in it. She read the new story by the Creator, but she wasn’t sure if she was following the plot or even making sense of the words at all-- rather, it was bypassing her conscious self altogether as images, words and situations lodged themselves in her brain. Where they dreams, memories or fiction? It was impossible to tell. She saw herself wearing tight leather pants and heading into a bar. Had she done that? Had she read it? She felt some stranger’s cock in her mouth, and remembered her heart swelling with pride at being a good, useful little fucktoy. No, that wasn’t right. That was a caption, wasn’t it? It felt so real, though… She tasted the lips of her best friend as they watched degrading porn together and Andrea rubbed the girl’s cunt over her panties and whispered “don’t you want to be a good girl like her?” No, that hadn’t happened. That was a story by the Creator, right? One of the more popular ones? She couldn’t focus. If it wasn’t real, it should have been. She should have broken her pretty little innocent friend and turned her into a living fucking fleshlight…

She edged, drifting between what was real and what wasn’t. The difference was insubstantial, and the need to become an empty vessel for the words was too strong. She didn’t cum. The idea never crossed her mind, and she stopped right at the edge on reflex. Good girls didn’t cum. She was a good girl. Or she should be? Maybe? It was too confusing, her mind and the Creator’s work melding into a single, twisting spiral…

Birds heralded the dawn once again, and once again Andrea was welcoming the new day by drooling and edging, humping the air and letting the Creator’s words and images wash over her, eroding her mind like the tide eroded rocks until they were smooth, slippery, featureless. She felt less and less like herself, if indeed there had been a real “self” there to begin with. She wasn’t so sure anymore. Wasn’t she an act? Wasn’t she performing always, even when she was the only audience? Did she even have a core, a solid thing she could call “Andrea”? Every minute it became harder and harder to find. Maybe it had never been there at all. Maybe it had been a particularly devious illusion, and there had never been a “self”. Maybe the only thing inside was emptiness, her personality just the result of an accumulation of experiences and situations, like mold growing on a tree trunk. Now, edging it all away, she realized there was no tree trunk at all. There was nothing there, which meant anything could go into that space. “Andrea” could mean anything. And the Creator’s words told her exactly what it should mean.

In the end, she had no one to blame but herself. The fact was that she edged and refused sleep and so, her mind broke. Sometimes things are as simple as that. Andrea would have liked the simplicity, if she could have appreciated it. As it was, she skipped work and edged herself into a deeper, almost meditative state of blank arousal. Andrea didn’t exist. Andrea had never existed. Andrea was whatever the site said she was.

Andrea was a cunt. Andrea was dumb. Andrea was empty. Andrea was slutty. Andrea was always horny. Andrea never said no. Andrea lived for cock. Andrea did anything to make men cum. Andrea had no limits, no morality. Andrea could be whoever made a particular cock cum. Andrea had no core, so she could become anyone. Anything. She was empty, and only cock could fill her: it was her purpose, her obsession, her God. All this came to her with the certainty of religious revelation. The Creator had told her so. She started to believe that they, whoever they were, made content just for her. The Creator was in her head, and was guiding her to the proper Path, to more profound enlightenment in the heaven that was complete, slutty submission.

She must have slept at some point, taken micro naps, perhaps-- or perhaps she was so far gone that sleep and vigil had lost all meaning, the duality destroyed by her new, elevated awareness. Dream and reality were the same thing, so who cared if she was asleep or awake?

Days and nights came and went in a mist of pleasure and emptiness. How long had it been since she had slept? She didn’t care. All she cared about were the voices. They were talking again, loud again. She didn’t quite understand what they said and didn’t much care. In another life she would have been annoyed, but that Andrea was long gone. Instead, a new idea popped in her head. A simple, shining, overriding thought: there were four cocks that needed to be worshipped.

Andrea showered and did her makeup. She liked what the mirror showed her: a slutty, eager, glassy-eyed slut with a vacant, lustful expression. Her instincts told her the men next door liked trashy girls, so she became trashy. She could feel the curse words surging inside her, her neediness and shamelessness taking hold. She looked for trashy clothing, and failing to find anything appropriate she grabbed her scissors. Anything could be trashy if you cut it short enough, added a big V-neck, carelessly chopped away whatever made the outfit respectable. She was sloppy. Sloppy was good. Sloppy was trashy.

In the end what she created could barely be called clothing: it was the bare minimum to cover up her nipples and her pussy. She was dripping, and she felt the juices visibly running between her legs added a certain charm to the outfit. No one could confuse her for anything other than a cock-hungry whore. No one could ever respect her while she wore that. Good. Respect was bad. Only cock mattered.

She knocked on the door, hard. She needed to serve, needed to be useful, and needed it without delay. She hadn’t planned ahead at all. She didn’t need to: once she was inside she knew nature would take its course. Her nature, the primal lust of an animal in heat. They would use her, and if for some reason they didn’t want to, she’d just edge and become a different kind of slut until she was good enough to deserve their cum. She was nothing. She could be anything. The door opened and the man made no effort to hide his surprise as his eyes instantly were drawn to Andrea’s tits. Good. A man that wasn’t scared to be a man, to see her as the fuckmeat she was.

“I hear you are having a party. Mind if I join in?”, she said. The man was taken aback. It took him a little while but finally he recognized her from fleeting encounters in the elevator. He stammered a bit, but let her in.

The rest of the guys were already drunk, laughing on the terrace. They looked at her like hungry beasts as the host awkwardly introduced her as “the neighbor”. Suddenly, there was silence. She could feel them struggling with themselves, with the idea that they shouldn’t take any cunt they wanted, with a million social norms crashing against the embodiment of free sexuality before them. Fine. She’d take the first step. She took a beer from one of the men’s hand and downed it before sitting on his lap.

“Fuck, that’s good”, she purred. Yes, trashy felt right. Felt fun, at least for this set. She would become someone else for others, she knew-- but subtlety wouldn’t work here.

“You know”, she added nonchalantly, “I’m on the pill.” One of the men managed to mutter something like “Uh… that’s good?”

Andrea smiled.

“It is good. Because it means you can fill my slutty cunt with your warm cum, if you want. Or I can swallow it all for you… or drool it on my tits! Oh! You can cum on them directly! Or on my face! I just need your cocks! All of you! Use every fucking hole, treat me like the cumrag I am! Gangbang me, pass me around, slap me, make me say disgusting things, make me shove bottle up my tight asshole! Please… use me. Make me feel useful. Make me feel like a complete fucking whore! You, grab my tits… I feel your cock hardening under me… why don’t you take it out? All of you, please, let me see those beautiful cocks! I exist for them!”

They got the message. Still, Andrea had to make sure of one thing. She looked at the host.

“You. Take your phone out. Make sure you film every little detail”

He pulled his phone out and pointed it at Andrea. He gestured that it was recording. She smiled.

“Hi! My name is Andrea Jackson… and today you’ll all see what I truly am”

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

#brainwashing #dumb slvt #hypnofantasy #hypnostory #hypnoslut #identity death

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spiraledfaun · 11 months ago

Text

a deerboy story

CW: In-text induction, suggestions to become weak to spirals, and become owned by spirals. Does contain suggestions to promote safety and agency, but mind the prior warning. Written in third person.

It was a cold, dark night outside, and a little deerboy was all snuggled up in his favorite blanket, in his favorite chair. He’d eaten some yummy food and two edibles, and felt perfectly content. In front of him played the inane comedy he’d chosen, something with a lot of hijinks and fun colors.

Everything was just so lovely.

As the energetic music blared in the background, the deerboy scrolled through Tumblr on his tablet. He always felt a little horny when he was high, so he checked out his favorite place: the hypnokink tag. Not all of it was for him, he wasn’t a “good girl” or looking to “sink into pink”, but there were some good finds.

But the best find of all sent through him an electric jolt, warmed all at once from head to toe.

Spirals.

He couldn’t quite explain what it was concisely, but something in the way they moved drew him in with a vice grip. Not all spirals of course, they had to be the right speed. The right smoothness. The right pattern. Once all the components were there, they would spin him deep into their control before he could even blink.

Of course, he had a collection. No one so taken by spirals wouldn’t have at least a few. This deerboy in particular had over 180. More than a few didn’t work on him anymore, or he had been fooled in the previews that it would be right. But he kept them all. Something about it just seemed right.

And tonight, as he scrolled through the hypnokink tag, he was hoping beyond hope he would stumble upon a wonderful one. A spiral that would make him get a little wetter every time he thought about how depraved it was. Regular people didn’t drop to lines on a screen. But he couldn’t help it when it just sang to his soul, and sucked him in. And the deerboy knew he would give in every single time he let it pull at him.

Even at just the thoughts, the possibility began to draw his mind down. The weed began to hit, and his head grew ever hazier.

Oh, he had just the thing.

The deerboy, with his short little antlers, a little past only just beginning to show, picked up his aphrodisiac pills and popped one into his mouth. He chased it down with a sip of his soda, and sunk a little further into the papasan behind him. When it hit, he would be pulled into a plush cloud of pleasure, just from doing nothing but watching his screen.

He passed by post after post, seeing a new one from yesterday that was actually pretty good. Another from a hypnoblogger with an imaginary scenario. Someone’s hypnostory released to a great response. An underwhelming spiral. An attractive blonde showing off her breasts and bobbing up and down. More fantasies.

But nothing that really drew him in.

And then he stumbled upon it.

One of the blogs had posted a link to a custom spiral maker. He’d tried them out a few times over the years, but some of them just hadn’t hit, or he wasn’t in the right mood for it. But he clicked on the link anyway.

The website opened up to a preview menu. Curious, the deerboy checked over the subliminal text. Suggestions to obey the spiral, not resist, drop, filled the screen. Unfortunately, there were a few lines of text that didn’t fit his preferences, so he edited the text and added some of his favorite mantras. The colors also weren’t quite right, so he made it black and white. A smaller example of the spiral played at the bottom of the page.

Finally, said his brain, leading him down into the winding curves. I can turn off.

He navigated to the main menu, eager. His breathing increased, excited to give in, excited to just lose. The deerboy hit the final button,

And lost.

Out of his brain dripped every single one of his thoughts, the boy’s mind flooded in ecstasy, the vision of the wicked spiral etched into his eyes. Unable to keep upright, he sagged into the grip of its winding gaze, will eroding with each pulse of the pattern, feeling utterly captured by its beauty.

No longer was his opinion required, no coherence asked, nothing taxing at all. Just looking, falling, dropping deeply into trance was all he could do. It was so easy and simple to keep staring. To lose himself in the ebb and flow, the smoothness of its movement, and give up thinking.

He didn’t need thoughts anymore.

That was for other people to have.

He just needed to keep looking into the Spiral, and get weaker.

Giving into the Spiral was what he was made to do.

The Spiral owned him now.

His body began to flutter, the space between his legs feeling warmer and warmer. The deerboy’s eyes started to cross, and his mouth drifted open. Nothing had ever felt so pleasurable in his life.

As he continued to lose control of his mind to some lines on a screen, his arousal kept growing. He didn’t notice that the hornier commands had been increasing in frequency, he just knew he was feeling better and better.

The boy continued dropping, train of thought entirely derailed, drool beginning to collect in his mouth. He was in the grip of the Spiral now, completely surrendered to the patterns before him. He knew what this was doing to him. He knew he was conditioning himself deeper and deeper. But he had his safeties. He had his protections, and he trusted himself.

But of course, to anyone around, it would look as though he was wide open to their influence, receptive to any programming they might want to put on him. He shivered to think of it, wishing, secretly, for someone to corrupt his mind into something unrecognizable from his everyday self.

This desire kept him enraptured, enshrining the key to his mind in a deep, persistent Spiral fetish. And maybe someday, he’d hand it to someone willingly. It wasn’t his focus, but it always hung around in the back of his mind.

Until then, the bright, weaving lines would hold him, and turn his gaze inside out, making him weaker and writing his thoughts. He shivered in their grasp, and his arousal began to increase again. Down, down, deeper the Spiral spun him, sending his head on a dizzy revolution, dropping him into a haze.

It was so hard to think now. There weren’t any thoughts other than the ones flashing in front of his face.

You can’t resist.

The Spiral makes you weak.

You love to stare.

Drop.

Give in to the Spiral.

You’re weak.

Staring makes you mindless.

His eyes kept crossing, his mind spiraling down into nothing.

The Spiral owned him now.

Submit to the Spiral.

Don’t resist.

You love to drop.

Obey and give in.

The deerboy drooled openly, lost in the movements on the screen, conquered by simple little lights.

The Spiral owned him now.

It wasn’t a question anymore, it was the truth, and the sooner the little deerboy realized that, the better.

His entire being belonged to the Spiral, and there was nothing he could do about it.

All at once, his cunt throbbed pleasurably, and the blood rushed to his tiny dick.

Fuck.

He’d never had such a good lover as a Spiral, and he knew it. It was just a part of his reality now, that Spirals controlled his mind, and fucked it as they pleased. It didn’t matter that he understood there was no sentience there, he couldn’t help but submit to their beauty.

The deerboy had assigned… names. To some of them.

It was just to think about, never to talk about out loud, but they turned over and over in his head as he stared, wondering what this one’s moniker would be.

And as he realized what this one wanted from him, the deerboy’s hole clenched, the high catapulting him into pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. He submitted, cumming on nothing and relinquishing his mind to the Spiral.

The Spiral owned him now.

There was nothing else in that moment, just the deerboy and the Spiral. And sometimes only the Spiral.

He came his little heart out, tiny tail twitching and swishing as the orgasm overtook him, cascading up and down his entire body. Utter bliss. The deerboy gave in over and over again, until he felt wrung out and tight.

Maybe it was time to stop.

#faun writes #hypnokink #nsft writing #trans nsft #brainwashing kink #hypnosub

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direautistichobbit · 4 months ago

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I need to gush about the hypnokink community for a moment, bare with me.

It really is wild how many truly imaginative, creative, uniquely talented, diversely educated and trained, passionate, profoundly erotic, and devious people we have amongst our numbers. Whether it's Twitter, tumblr, or on Discord? I see so many of us doing so many interesting and fascinating things on a regular basis. Definitely in the realm of erotic hypnosis, obviously, but also elsewhere. This community is just so multifaceted and diverse and I love it.

I see @bunbunlittleone making Tennis Ball gags and locking pearl necklaces while also creating just tons of wildly erotic content. @voxhypno is constantly just a solid words smith every time he types. Then there is imaginatrix and sinister denial (tumblr unknown, not sure if they have one) and the tons of education, material, and philosophizing they constantly produce. HypnoStory and @pandapet are on the same level as well; just making some of the most educational and fluidly organic classes you could hope for. @writtenbynath is another educator who just has tons of experience, perspective, creativity, and advocacy that she pours into this community.

and for every single one it mentioned here? there's another half a dozen that show up at every con, make their presence known, do amazing stuff, run chats and groups and round tables on Discord, and even more.

I'm off in a bit of a dour and sarcastic son of a bitch, but this community gives me a lot in the form of optimism, hope and perspective. I am blessed to be among you. 💜

#hypnosis #gratitude #love #appreciation post #mind control

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misscammiedawn · 2 years ago

Text

Charmed! Recap Day 5 (Sunday)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

It was not good sleep. My neck hurt. My brain was flooded with painful static electricity. I felt nauseous. Call it a hangover from feeling everything at 12 yesterday.

Charmed! Outfit 7: The Lazy Domme

For toppy Fae who want to impress but don't really want to get dressed up.

Copper wanted to have a coffee date and to spend some time with me. He was a little sad about the little amount that he had gotten during the weekend to date. At least the amount outside of classes.

I met with him and gave suggestions on places and he, to my pleasant surprise, opted for hotel coffee so we didn’t have to leave and could enjoy our morning here at the convention.

He wanted to experience some of the trancey energy that I was emitting during my class. I do not know if Copper has ever seen me in that light or realized I was capable of that. Of my partners he is the one I don’t really dabble too much with. Not for any negative reason. Copper is the only partner I share a bed with two nights a week and the only member of Prime I have a regular date night/morning with.

We have something firm and solid and secure but hypnosis was never really an active element. Not in the way it is for Goddess, Sleepy and Daja.

So we sat and worked on a negotiation. Me in my coat, watching people go by and thinking about the stories and realizing how many of these people I know and how much intimate knowledge I have about them and how my shyness kept me from turning that into actual connection. Like studying for a test I never bother to take.

Copper asked for the mirror lake sequence that I described in my class, I added in a probing question about whether he would imagine a specific one in Canada which Goddess made a file referencing. He agreed to that. I went over tactile sensations, hair, where to touch, elements that were on the table and off. Location, length, any programming or suggestions wanted to be touched upon.

As I spoke, serious and very much in Dawn space, my legs were crossed and I sipped coffee, watching my boyfriend and realizing he had a bit of nervousness in him. Not shy or fearful nervousness, more the kind of putting oneself out on the line and not being certain that faith would be rewarded.

I felt very much like a true Domme in that moment. Running a negotiation. Crafting ethical consent. Tailoring the scene. All while lounging comfortably and enjoying how remarkably adorable my silly science boy was being.

He was most certainly going to be rewarded.

We found some space on the con floor and I got to work. Lulling and fractionating at first before pulling off the mirror lake sequence. I lightened his hand and made it fall, I had him struggle against the pressure of my push, I let him rest against my shoulder, I tested the beard related hairplay that the hairplay class had introduced in the former day.

I utilized another of Goddess’ old tricks with him, on his request, the “Together” trigger where, no matter the distance, he could hear Together and feel their connection across distance. I ran him through that a few times and worked as hard with him as I ever have in any scene. I was unspeakably proud of myself.

I eventually had to count him up and described it as leaving one pleasant experience and coming into another, as I embraced him and told him trance fades as love expands. Drew him up and pet his hair.

He was touched. Moved to emotion.

I had done my job well.

From there we went into Service Topping, something Copper had been *ordered* by Goddess to attend. Hypnostory and Panda were presenting. I had hoped to see Story all weekend. The Triad are important to me and to Oikos in general and I had been missing Yoshi intensely. At least giving hugs to 2 of the 3 would soothe some of that emotion of feeling an absence that was likely noted by all present.

Story handed me a LGBT+ pin which I gratefully accepted and added to my badge next to the spiral pin that was being used as a soft indicator of my present headspace.

As I checked my phone, Puppet sent me a message. They were at the consent team desk for the morning shift and would be done about 3:30pm. Much like Copper, my skills and care were requested to soothe stress and heightened emotions and grant relaxation and care. I am touched Puppet longed to have a hypnotic moment with me at some point of the weekend.

It’s a terrible shame to feel like my Oikos partners “can always have time with me when we get home.” it hits different at Charmed. I eagerly agreed to take care of her.

The class was wonderful. Copper was engaged the entire time and the pair of us maintained a polite back and forth by writing on our tablets.

I was happily surprised to see Panda was leading this class and that the rapport between the pair remained as energetic as ever. There was a lot of love in their dynamic and the moments felt organic and welcome. They have such a vibrant range of emotional energies which made my display during Presence seem a little lite in comparison. It made a lovely companion in that regard though, as Panda showed off all the emotional facets it had on offer as well as some delightfully fun tricks such as losing the ability to communicate beyond the word Panda.

As the class went on the walls banged. An UnCon must have been happening next door and I briefly wondered if Daja and Tenn were doing take-downs. That does not appear to have been the case. But it was interesting, to say the least.

One of the audience questions was specifically about shame, that one would top out of shame of feeling like they were always taking.I felt my ex’s spirit in the room again. I topped because she needed me to.

I could never have imagined years later I would be teaching a class on topping and would feed so hungrily upon that energy. 2023 Camdelyn would crush 2019 Camden. In a hug, of course.

The class soon ended and thus returning to the room was the next logical step. Sleepyhead, quite satiated from the previous day, was utilizing AGDQ as a way to prevent con-drop while at the con. It was a remarkable strategy I had not considered. Softening exposure leading towards the end to ween off of experience and not overload or overwhelm with anxiety or a sudden end to heightened experiences.

My hedonistic Fae ass simply could never.

Leftovers from the prior night were on the menu and Daja was summoned to enjoy the meal with.

This was the night. The night where the Kindred take a trip to Elysium. The party. The grand finale of the event.

…which meant we were running short on time.

As I finished lunch, I began to get into my Work Mode. Not my dayjob workmode, that’s its own thing, I mean Top Space.

With Sleepyhead wearing headphones and lunch enjoyed, I simply wanted to do some shenanigans. Ride this energy I had been gathering that day. Make my lass whimper a little bit and make use of the Perfect Obedience trigger while I still had it.

At first it was just a semi-private moment but soon enough Dolly wanted to engage, so I pulled her in and began to work both my girlfriends at once. Not the first time I’ve had the opportunity to do so, but I always find my spirit ignites when I’m riding that energy and playing with them both.

At a point I had mentioned the metronome which had been patiently waiting in Daja’s room above. It had not come into play yet, I had requested it, especially as Dolly was one of the ones who had shown a heightened interest in it online.

The metronome was set into motion and I know Daja did that at 60 BPM. I let things start off and got her nice and focused and fuzzy. Enjoying her immobility and rapidly sinking state.

Daja would have liked to have joined, but Dolly was not wearing her collar. Chosen are allowed to play with one another without collar. External play ALWAYS requires a collar. Mine hadn’t left me all weekend. Pride in Goddess cemented that fact. The Mind Melting Machine solidified it.

She said that she would have given her a voice box and a pull-string… so *of course* I had to work with that.

“I am a good dolly. Good dollies obey.”

Any time she felt me tug the invisible string on her back and return it to position she softly repeated.

I fixed her collar on and offered the floor to my wonderful lass, who noted that Sleepy had negotiated with her prior to the convention.

As Daja got things prepared I simply sat back and watched my girlfriend work on my girlfriend.

There are times I feel like my presence in a room during a scene is a detriment. When I am intruding and my emotional energy is radiating obtrusively into an active moment that two people are sharing.

There are times where I feel my participation in a scene is included in the moment. Where I am either invited in or that my presence is a calculated factor. These are the moments when tag-team and double-team trances are born. When consent is granted for the third party to add to the ongoing trance on either side of the watch. The moment Daja teaches in her classes about my head hitting a headboard during Beguiled is one of those moments.

I need to be better about negotiating boundaries of when that “join in!” energy is acceptable or not. Sometimes it cripples my vibe.

This was neither.

Sleepy and Daja were in a world of their own. My presence in the room was not a factor. I’ve never felt that before. I did not long for trance or to induce it. I did not want to be included nor feel excluded.

I was present.

And that did not factor at all into the beauty I witnessed and it truly was beautiful. They bounced off of one another so effortlessly. Daja had been in a Mood™ all weekend. Cammie draws it out of her, I suppose. That energy translated perfectly to Sleepyhead. Which makes sense. I adore my somft side but she is Sleepyhead Lite. Literally. By design. Goddess is programming that into her.

…I need to teach The Sleepyhead State at some point in the future. I want to make an entire class just to drop that Esdaile is to depth what Sleepyhead is to susceptibility.

But I just enjoyed my proximity for all the scene entailed. I recall being fairly respectful of their space, utilizing a moment to check my Discord and the schedule. It felt the right thing to do. Of all the moments of the convention that were just peaceful bliss, that one ranks high among them.

I would have remained outside of the scene, but the door opened. It would appear our dear sweet JAYMAX had returned.

JAYMAX is the personal healthcare robot that Puppet cosplays as, based on the large armored marshmallow from Disney’s Big Hero 6.

Her expression shifted in that way I am so used to seeing on our dear sweet Dolly’s face. That little eye flutter, those parted lips. The metronome was impacting her. She only had one word to offer as she absorbed the scene happening before her.

“Oh.”

I had already said I was going to give her some trance time when her shift was over and told her as much with my voice sliding fully into seductive allure. I was already riding high from working with Sleepyhead and now I could ride that emotion to somewhere quite productive.

I lured Puppet in and set her down on her bed. Two queen beds in the room, the one closest to the door was mine, closest to the window Puppet and Sleepy’s.

When down I pacified and lulled Puppet down and they asked in such a sleepy and detached voice. “Are you satisfied with your care?”

I kissed her forehead. They were so adorable and dreamy with that big open grin that Goddess and Sleepy love her for. My counterpart is so lovely and it is impossible not to feel overwhelming affection for someone who holds such an important place within the hearts that mean the world to me.

Having seen the movie I told them that I was satisfied and they sighed and sank further into blissful surrender.

Daja needed to get moving, so I took over the scene, promising to return the metronome at a later point.

Goddess has a specific suggestion set up for her soft Sleepyhead dolly and her Perfect Puppet. A LAN connection that tethers the pair of them to one another, the deeper one goes the deeper the other goes.

I opened up the WiFi version of that suggestion and reminded Puppet that Sleepyhead can go so deep and had been oh so fractionated in the past 24 hours. I told Sleepyhead that Puppet was letting go entirely and looked so serene.

As the metronome tick

Tick

Ticked

I snapped my fingers.

In time.

Perfectly in tune.

With every clack.

60 BPM.

Sixty snaps per minute.

Speaking in time.

Drawing them down.

Deeper.

One line at a time.

One word.

Down.

Just like that.

I asked Puppet to switch to my bed and snuggle up close to Sleepyhead.

I had them whisper to one another their affirmations. Deepening their trances and solidifying their devotion to Goddess. I demonstrated Dolly’s new drawstring and once they were completely down, I checked in and asked if they wanted to be woken. They seemed comfortable and I asked them to rest together and care for one another. About this time Sleepyhead’s friends from the other night arrived and I drew my counterpart and girlfriend awake and let them have their privacy.

In the lobby a decent gathering were in the back lobby and I was able to calmly mingle with folx, including two of Daja’s partners. I scarcely recall the topics but do remember I heard Timbit and decided to follow her restrained barking. Goddess was walking down the hall attended by two of her Chosen. Copper was holding a box with spiral eye design.

I knew that box.

I knew what was happening!

There was little fanfare beyond the puppy squeaks and a small number of folx followed in to the classrooms. A gathering of significant individuals had gathered in the same room the Soiree happened in. A room where the chairs were out to the side and the space was wide open.

Goddess was wearing her ceremony regalia. The phases of the moon on a gorgeous midnight blue. Those moments where she embodies that title she so lovingly has earned from each of us Chosen.

She sat at the front of the room on a single chair facing those who had been gathered. As if sitting on a throne, Copper stood behind her with the box.

I have so very few regrets about Charmed! 2023. So very few moments I wish something had gone other than it had. Even in the midst of meltdowns, tears, serious moments, COVID scares and anxiety; I would change not a millisecond of the event spare for this one.

I wish my counterpart was with me in that moment.

A year ago I imagined a moment just like this one. Goddess on a hotel chair throne in her full regalia with her Chosen standing behind her and an audience gathered in front of her.

In that dream, that imagined moment that lived in my brain for so long, Sunrise and Puppet kneeled before her. Copper with a purple collar bearing the symbol of the sun rising over the mountain, Sleepyhead with a blue collar bearing an infinity symbol lock.

We would have each bowed and received those collars and devoted ourselves to her. Just as we had done in a living room in Minnesota but with one exception.

The crowd of peers, well wishers, friends and partners would have been there showering love and the applause that would soon echo this room and cause Timbit to lovingly and excitedly bark, would have been for the promised ceremony. The ceremony as planned.

I did not know I’d be given the vision of seeing that vision. Letting it mingle with the reality of the moment. But I got that gift and it seems so unfair that Puppet was not allowed to have it alongside me. I hope she can picture it in my words as I share them.

But this was not a moment from my imagination. It was a completely different kind of ceremony. One just as loving and beautiful and surrounded by the approval and delight of those around.

See there’s a tradition within the hypnosis community. An old thing started by Hypnomedia during the days before Charmed and Beguiled. An antique watch on a stand lovingly crafted by the woodsmith/Jedi Master himself. The name was emboldened with names that held significance at a time as well as a few who still make the circuit.

Each year this Traveling Watch award is passed on from one “Person of the Year” to the next. It came into Goddess’ possession during COVID, albeit it only arrived at Oikos a few weeks before the event.

I had been involved in some of the talks on who it would be passed to but I did not know who Goddess had picked.

The story of the watch and its history was told and Goddess explained that the list of people had been shortened from 20 down to 2 and from 2 down to 1.

The box was opened to reveal the antique watch on its custom made podium and it was awarded to its new owner— EnScenic.

The applause was earnest and enthusiastic. From myself, too. I can think of few people more deserving of the honor. EnScenic has always been sweet, engaged, kind and informative. Her classes are imaginative and spark inspiration and conversation, she offers wonderful wares at the vendor’s room and made such an inviting open space for new folx to feel welcomed.

At Beguiled, before Daja and I had really worked out our thing, I had been welcomed in and given some decompress space. Plus there is the gift I was given the previous day. I do not mean to make my praise so grounded in personal opinion, but she has done nothing but prove in my eyes that she deserves any award that my Goddess has received.

Of that I am sure.

Congratulations and kind words were offered and I hesitate to type more because the emotional moment was for those present. If the story was anyone’s to tell it would be the award winner herself.

Ceremony over, I poured back to the back lobby and found some folks to pass some moments with. I had a brief conversation with one of Sleepyhead’s close friends about my upcoming hospital visit and promised to remain in touch after the event. It seemed unreal that we had not made our own connection, I intend to fix that.

But…

Wonder Woman stood at the top of the stairs leading in to the back lobby and any chance of connection was put on hold.

…Daja was a vision in a sequined Wonder Woman outfit and she strode down with confidence.

I should note that from here on out the line between fantasy and reality, which is normally drawn with a drying felt tip pen now becomes smudged. The Sunday night event is something I had been preparing for with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness since the idea was firmly cemented.

Of everything I did during the weekend, this is the one that I felt required specific permission from Goddess.

I know where home is and play is okay so long as I wear my collar.

I just needed to be TOLD that this was okay. I didn’t think I could have it unless I was told explicitly I was allowed to have it.

Daja, in her red and blue dress, walked down the stairs and any distractions faded away. There was no longer a convention. No longer ambient discussion in the air. I was vaguely aware of the fact my conversation partner was staring too. Maybe in another world they would have been able to enjoy Daja’s presence for more than a few seconds, but she beckoned and I glided forward in an amnesia ridden haze and appeared at her side.

“I’m taking this one.” I remember her saying that. There were other words, but that was the thing I remember. She was making one of my fantasies from the Tumblr list come true. She was picking me out from a crowd and pulling me aside.

In actuality there was a full hour if not two of events that go here. A meal, discussions of important topics, driving to Panera Bread– I have those memories. They *were* returned to me.

But I want to type about how I perceived them on that night. The meal, the dialogue, gender concerns born from the hospital conversation— none of it mattered. Because Sunday Night Cammie was asked to let those memories fade away.

One of the more important ones lost in the mix was Panda offering a gift to Daja and I. A pair of conditioned leather bracelets. One denoting Daja as THRALL and one denoting me as SWEETLING.

I received Goddess’ permission for that.

Sweetling is Daja’s pet name for Cammie, a reference to a book series she shared with me after Beguiled. The main character of which is an allegory for trauma survivors and potentially BPD, given she “lost her temper” at one point and it destroyed a palace.

I’ll never forget the bliss in my heart when I finally saw the name she had been calling me in the books.

“I’m real Sweetling, it truly is me.”

It stole my heart all over again.

I near about teared up from the generosity of the moment and hugged the lovely creature— it had been so sweet the whole weekend.

With Panda rushing to attend to its Miss’ needs and ready for the party; I returned to Daja’s room to prepare for the ball.

Though… from the perspective of Cammie on Sunday, it was all a blissful haze. Everything just a little soft around the edges.

I do recall, at the least, that Daja used a Susan Snap on me to place the Silver Crystal in my hand. That crystal instantly hypnotizes me when I see it, with intent and she had intended to make me go deep and embody my role.

It's so hard to remember the details. It all just felt so… immersive.

Daja was sliding into her role as a vampire. A kindred who was sired by Nath’s vampyric persona. Owned by her Lady but now willing to take on a thrall of her own. I was being conditioned into a space to be that thrall.

But it was ONLY for that night. I was to keep Goddess in my thoughts and actions the whole night. That my collar would remain on and that nothing. No power could impact my connection to Goddess. That she had entrusted the two of us with this care and we would ensure that I would return to normal at the end of the night and share the joy of the experience with her.

My deepest desire is for my joy to spread to my partners. I want them to feel my excitement, my bliss, my euphoria, my dreams and desires.

But for now, I was in Daja’s care and a thrall needs to be dressed for the occasion if it is to attend a vampire’s ball. To attend Elysium.

I was lead down to my room, guided by Miss and instructed to not allow my roommates to suspect that I was enchanted. That I was to act completely normal. I invited Miss into the room, for vampires need an invite, and Acted Normal.

Daja says I may have slipped into LARP space a little too heavily while I was pretending to be normal and that she didn’t want anyone but her Sweetling and that my behavior should not be changed beyond sliding into obedience for the night…

And so I got dressed and became the thrall I was going to be for the night.

Charmed! Outfit 8: The Merchant's Daughter

For those who have been enthralled and are going to accompany their Miss to the vampire's ball.

Daja was unaware of that dress. It was my surprise for her. No amnesia required. She knew I had an outfit prepared. It was so important to me that I got to be perfect for that night.

I was returned to the room and told to stare at the metronome while Daja got prepared.

While staring at the metronome, Daja asked me to perform a COVID test. All attendees of this ball were to be screened because the last thing any of us needed was to invite the virus into our event.

I must have stared for 15 minutes. Blank and helpless. Sinking and sliding into my role. A younger Cammie felt her connection to LARP and White Wolf returning. LARP used to be a big part of her life. She knew how to embody this role in its entirety.

My journaling notes were updated while I was still in trance and Daja got dressed.

Then literally before I knew it, the doors were opening for the vampire gathering and Miss beckoned me to rise.

Oh how I floated to my feet. Miss’ control was powerful. Just for one night. With my Goddess’ permission, I was enthralled by a Kindred. Bent to their will and existing only to be prim, proper, presentable and sometimes— if Miss required it— be a snack.

Lingering in her shadow I followed her to the elevator.

The door opened and we found ourselves in Nath’s room. Daja sat on a chair and I knelt by her side, back straight, chin held high, a faint smile upon my face. A treasured possession on display. Silent and in the background but present. Though I had made a gentle and forgivable mistake. Daja asked me stand and sit *properly*. Pulling my dress forward as I fell down to my knees and then bustling the fabric back to pool around me as I returned to posture.

She petted me gently and proudly shimmered for her Lady. It was always good to see her emboldened by pride and performance.

The party was happening around me but I focused only on Miss. Eyes on her as she softly glowed. Miss had a very quick moment with her Lady that is not mine to share. Afterwards Miss took from my wrist and I let out whimpering mewls of yearning need. Once done I affectionately nuzzled and tranced myself out. That trigger still worked, even while I was in thrall space.

There were many demonstrations and the other people at the party did their thing. I remained in the corner, focused on looking the part, in being a Good Girl.

Daja stood across the room and she beckoned a summoning and I obeyed. This time, by instruction, I fell to my knees and stared up longingly, captured and helpless. She asked for my wrist and I offered it.

I truly hope everyone in the room was as awed and proud of Miss as I was in that moment. I was enamored.

I had a brief and important conversation with Panda. That was a good night for the two of us and I am grateful to it for being so communicative. I forget a lot of the details and am editing the public version to not mention the party beyond my interaction with it. I know Dawn was inspired to make a quick appearance and she was being a world class brat.

“May I please have some tissue from the restroom?” I asked the party’s host.

“You may”

I maneuvered my finger to Daja’s forehead and the blue flame of Perfect Obedience swallowed her mind and I made a simple command. “Bring me some tissue from the restroom.”

Oh how I smirked in triumph. For certain my most boastful moment of raw power abuse.

But once Daja returned, Dawn attempted to return things back to normal. Daja’s conditioning had already made it so that I would always feel myself naturally sliding back into Thrall Space. It was understood that I may need to perform some of my own Fae charm during the party but I was, by both negotiation and desire, tied and compelled to be Sweetling.

It’s important to me that my facets are never forcibly shifted. My ex had a “Stop That” trigger which forced Cammie to go away and I promised myself I would never let that happen again. Daja had her own baggage regarding trying to compel headspaces.

So I feel deep shame that in Top Space I attempted to draw Daja back to her Dominant Space. That was a Mistake. Her head shook and I realized my mistake and backed off with apologies. She found it for herself and in turn I slid back into my role of being a thrall and kept remaining on the corner of the scene. Quiet and poised and perfect.

Miss was glowing and I found it increasingly difficult to stop myself from nuzzling and accidentally trancing myself over and over, but I was just captivated. Miss was commanding enough to dominate me; my will was gone, I could not resist.

Conversation happened and VtM talk ensued. It was a lovely lull and I enjoyed the casual nature of it all.

Alas… something caused a Drop.

Between having been riding Dominant Space for hours and some external stresses, Daja needed to call it a night and I went with her to take as good care of her as I was able.

It was the final night of the event. I held her and she held me. We rid the energy out of everything that had happened and had some frank discussions. Grounded one another and offered all we had.

The night, sadly, faded away and it was soon midnight. The con was officially over. All that was left to do was return to the room and sleep…

Saying goodbye is always so hard.

And that's all I have to share in public. My private journal goes over more and the Monday events, but this is as much as I'm posting.

Thank you all for reading.

#charmed recaps #hypnokink #hypnocons

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neehu · 2 years ago

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Did you know that our online con has like 32 classes and costs $25... win!

We have a really awesome program with exciting classes by our special guest Neuromancer28 and many others! Check out the full schedule here!

These are all of the classes that will be available ONLINE! There will also be social events/games online, and an online unconference (and we will broadcast as much of the in-person uncon as people presenting it are willing to!)

😷 = Live class at con 💻 = Streamed for your viewing pleasure 🔴 = Recorded, will be available for on-demand streaming for 1-2 weeks after con!

😷💻Hypnostory - Drop "For Me" 😷💻🔴Mephki - Intro to the Event & Consent (Mandatory) 😷💻🔴EllieLobelia - What now? A beginner's crash course in erotic hypnosis. 😷💻🔴Harrison K. Hall - Antivista: When the mind is blind 😷💻HypnoMemers - HypnoAmory 😷💻Panda - At your Service 😷💻🔴Neuromancer28, March - What's in a feeling - Neuroscience of leaning in 😷💻Hypnostory, Panda - Hypno 101 😷💻Aerius - Sensuality and Sadism 💻Hypnodazed - Fiasco roleplaying game: For Science! 💻Rice - Gartic Phone 💻Wondertushy - Booty Full Of Inductions 😷💻🔴Porcelain Muse - Makeup and Mayhem (not 100% sure if we can stream/record this) 😷💻Aerius - Negotiation: Safety is Sexy 😷💻🔴Neuromancer28, March - Marionette play 😷💻Zany Danger - Hypnotic breath play 😷💻🔴Neuromancer28, March - Feeling in the dark 😷💻🔴Harrison K. Hall - Polishing the Hypnotist 😷💻Zany Danger - Boots, Hypno & Hotness, Oh MY! 😷💻HypnoMemers - Face Your Fears: a guide to hypnotic fear play 😷💻🔴Harrison K. Hall - Hypnotastic props 😷💻Hashbrown - Vetting Practices 💻Wondertushy - The Creative Imagination Scale - Hypnosis without Hypnosis 😷💻HypnoMemers - Zapping your way to hypnotic bliss! 😷💻Cody - Ongoing Consent in an hypno RPG 😷💻🔴Sunshine - Can meditation enhance your experience as a hypnotic sub? 💻🔴 12-1:30 Skew - Hypnokink and the Autistic Experience 😷💻Hypnostory - Remembering to forget 😷💻🔴Neuromancer28, Mephki - Journal club 😷💻Hypnostory - This mind left intentionally blank 😷💻🔴Ellie Lobelia - Hypnotic Storytelling - Using Storytelling to enhance the hypnotic experience 💻Fenetre - The experience of making a hypnokinky artfilm

Get your tickets here!

$25 for online con $120 for in person con up to Mar 15, then $140!

#EEEHU4

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charmedhypno · 1 year ago

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Charmed! Hypnovember Day 10

Day 10 - What's a class at Charmed! that you always want to attend but keep missing?

I have a long history of missing classes at conventions for various reasons, usually relating to a need for rest or food or isolation.

HOWEVER

Every year at Charmed! since we've had the long Thursday classes, I've taught one, and every year while I'm teaching that, HypnoStory and panda have taught something, and every year it's something I think will be interesting and every year I can't go.

And of course we don't have a schedule yet, and we haven't decided on which classes we're accepting, but I might just get to see one of their classes for the first time, this year.

#Charmed!2024 #Charmed! Hypnovember

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puari-vol · 3 months ago

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Good Girls at the Slumber Party

CW: Hypnosis

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, where am I? Had I fallen asleep during the movie? I found myself on the floor of a dimly lit bedroom, I was restrained…no I was being held. Arms wrapped around me in a tight hug. I looked up and I saw a girl sitting in a desk chair, she smiled down at me

“Did you sleep well, pet?”

My memories started to return…the slumber party, the movie, the spiral…this girl…I started to struggle against the arms holding me, which elicited a giggle from behind me.

“Now now, settle down sweetie”

The Girl in the chair waggled a disapproving finger at me, then before I could react she reached forward and-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, where am I? I felt arms around me, holding me in a tight embrace. And I heard a chorus of laughter and giggles from all around. I looked to see…everyone, everyone from the slumber party seated in a circle around me. They were all looking at me, smiling. All their gazes made me freeze in embarrassment. What had I done that was so funny? What happened? I remembered the slumber party, the movie, the spiral…the girl…The girl sitting in the chair just in front of me. She smiled down on me with a light in her eyes

“Oh..so precious…you’ll make a wonderful pet”

“P-pet?” I stammered, I tried to struggle against the embrace that held me, I glanced back up in time to see her hand coming toward my-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, I was staring directly into someone's eyes. I felt hands on my cheeks, holding my head

“Shhhhhh darling, shhhhhhh”

A familiar voice…from the party…right the slumber party, the movie, the spiral…the-

“Shhhhh, just relax for a moment, don’t think just listen”

Her hand gently ran down my face, crashing my train of thought. I tried to ask a question but it just came out as incoherent babbling. Just as I was starting to get my thoughts in order I felt her-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes fluttered open, I-

*tap*

…

*tap*

My eyes-

*tap*

…

*tap*

…

*tap*

…

*tap*

…

“There we go, you're ready to listen now. Kelsey, could you come over here?”

“Yes Mistress!”

“Good girl, just get on your knees right there okay? Perfect, smile at your friend. Good. Now pay attention to Kelsey here alright? She’s going to demonstrate how the button that turns off your brain works. Just tap her on the forehead and…there she goes. Look at her sleeping so deeply, so prettily. So perfectly relaxed now that her brain is off, and now we bring her back with another…tap, and she’s back. How do you feel Kelsey

“I feel wonderful Mistress”

“Good girl, now let's show your friend a new trick, are you paying attention sweetie?”

Everything felt heavy and slow, I was wrapped in a warm comforting embrace, it felt like I was in a dream

“yes…”

“Very good, now when a good girl gets her button pressed, her brain turns off. Press it again and it comes back on. But what happens when we hold it down? Let's find out, ready Kelsey?”

Before Kelsey could answer, she reached over and pressed a finger into her forehead. At once Kelsey’s mouth dropped open she took on a vacant expression. Then her eyes rolled back, fluttering…

“There we go, now Kelsey are you awake or asleep?”

“I am awa…aslee…”

She mumbled

“That’s right, you’re not awake or asleep, you’re both!”

The girl in the chair looked at me to explain

“You see, it's kinda like with a computer. You can turn it on or off with a button, but if you hold it down you can do a hard reset, and I can install new instructions before booting it back up. What are your instructions Kelsey?”

“I am a Slumber Party Slut”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means I do whatever any girl at the slumber party tells me to do”

“Good girl! Now it's time for you to receive some new instructions, you brought a friend to take your place, so now you are a Slumber Party Slave. What are you Kelsey?”

“I am a Slumber Party Slave”

“That’s right, a slumber party slave’s job is to tell the sluts what to do, and train them to be very Good Girls for Mistress. And of course…to use them however you like. Now it seems your friend is in need of some basic training, what are you going to do Kelsey?”

“I’m going to make her into a Good Girl, I’m going to make her into a Slumber Party Slut”

“Very good slave”

She removed her finger from Kelsey’s head, and her eyes finally snapped shut. She would have collapsed in a heap if the girl in the chair wasn’t propping her up. The girl turned to me and smiled one last time

“You two have fun”

She tapped Kelsey on the forehead again and she opened her eyes. Then the girl got up from her chair and left the room as Kelsey started moving towards me. My mind was feeling less foggy now, and suddenly adrenaline coursed through me as I tried in vain to struggle free. Much to the amusement of whoever was holding me

“Kelsey! Please just…wait a second”

She just smiled at me, and reached toward me. I had to resist, I had to fight. I tried to focus on staying awake. But all I could think about was the look that had been on Kelsey’s face while she was-

*tap*

I felt myself fall asleep…but I didn’t fall asleep, it was like drifting off but never quite sleeping. Just the falling and falling…falling…falling…falling…falling...falling…

“You are a Good Girl”