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gallifreyanhotfive · 8 months ago

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Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 50: 50 Facts for 50 Parts

How the hell did I get to part 50?!?!?! This is insanity.

The Eleventh Doctor once got hit with an electromagnetic pulse that left him needing to rebuild his mind, during which time he lived as Mr. Foreman. Valarie would sell her cybernetic enhancements to Mr. Foreman in exchange for money and the chance to check on the TARDIS, often telling him stories about the Doctor as she did so. Mr. Foreman used so many of her enhancements that she lost herself. (Audio: Curiosity Shop)

The Fifth Doctor has been tied up in strappado before. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

The Ninth Doctor has lost or forgotten the ability to play the spoons. (Audio: Station to Station)

Aspirin is fatal to Time Lords. (Novel: The Left-Handed Hummingbird; Burning Heart; Audio: The Condemned)

The Brigadier lost his virginity as a Second Lieutenant when he was 21 years old. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

The Thirteenth Doctor has introduced herself as "Sarah Jane Smith" before. (Short story: Mission of the KaaDok)

The Third Doctor was able to sense that he was near the end of his life before being irradiated. (Audio: The Children of the Future)

Mozart got cloned in the future many times because they were inspired by his creativity. This made one clone travel to the past to make Mozart immortal with the intention of draining him of that creativity, which would make sure those clones were never made. The Sixth Doctor traveled to Mozart's deathbed to convince him not to trust the clone, and Mozart eventually dies very confused by what was going on. (Audio: My Own Private Wolfgang)

Ace once tried to use the Seventh Doctor's "look me in the eye, pull the trigger" manipulation tactics, but because she's not a hypnotist or psychic like him, she ends up shot anyway. (Audio: The Fearmonger)

Hannah Bartholomew stowed away on the TARDIS, looking for an adventure. She ended up being instrumental in saving the day on the God-King's Tomb Ship and joined Nyssa and the Fifth Doctor more officially. (Audio: Tomb Ship)

Iris Wildthyme has her own version of the Valeyard called Bianca. She rebuilt her TARDIS as a nightclub and tried to steal Iris's regenerations. (Audio: The Wormery)

The Thirteenth Doctor and the Master, locked together in a psychic link, once talked about their issues. They talked about their pasts, but the Master refused to tell her about the "mystery" he was keeping from her. (Short story: The Doctor vs the Master)

After being irradiated, the Third Doctor wandered the time vortex for an entire decade, his body breaking down the entire time. It got to a point where he could not reach the console and was left drifting until the TARDIS finally landed herself. (Novel/Audio: Love and War)

The Thirteenth Doctor once tried to celebrate Yaz's birthday with a tea party in Boston, 1773. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Eighth Doctor was separated into his three different sides once. One side was sensible. The other was quite bouncy and excitable, and it was a wonder he didn't get killed while being distracted by something. The third side was incredibly nasty and could be quite violent without the other two sides there to balance him out. (Audio: Caerdroia)

The Fifth Doctor is so good with a bow and arrow that he could shoot an arrow with a piece of parchment attached to it through a window in a tower and snuff out the flame of the candle he was aiming at. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Ninth Doctor once invited a woman named Adriana to travel with him in the TARDIS, only for her to almost immediately die. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

When taking into account the battered appearance of his TARDIS console, the Second Doctor realized that the Time Lords had been sending him on missions for a long time, using him as a pawn. Unfortunately, every time he realized this, they erased his memory. (Short story: Save Yourself)

The Twelfth Doctor recalled pulling the Sword from the Stone, becoming King of England for a day, and then abdicating to King Arthur. (Novel: Silhouette)

The Eleventh Doctor used the alias Jean Valjean to infiltrate Alcatraz. (Comic: Escape into Alcatrax)

The Toymaker once turned the Eighth Doctor into a ventriloquist's doll, and he was unable to move or speak unless Charley was holding him. When he did speak, he would shout and protest desperately against the situation. (Audio: Solitaire)

About six hours after the events of The Tomb of the Cybermen, Captain Hopper and his crew ran into the Fifth Doctor, Tegan, and Nyssa, and Hopper was killed by two cyber-converted crewmembers. (Audio: Secrets of Telos)

The Third Doctor became a British citizen at some point. (Audio: The Doll of Death)

After leaving the Eighth Doctor, Zagreus became Perfection, who was a huge flirt towards the Doctor. (Audio: The Next Life)

William Shakespeare once spiked the Fifth Doctor's drink with ginger, leading to the predictable drunken effects. (Audio: The Kingmaker)

The Thirteenth Doctor also really likes ginger nuts, garibaldis, and fig rolls and gets them from the biscuit dispenser in her TARDIS. (Comic: The Forest Bride)

The Sixth Doctor considers Braxiatel condescending and doesn't really like him, but he still trusts him. (Audio: The 100 Days of the Doctor)

When the Fifth Doctor was stabbed in the chest, he was able to survive due to his characteristic heart anatomy, but he was still out for the count for a while. (Audio: Son of the Dragon)

The Sixth Doctor had been known to play with swivel chairs, even going "wheeeee!" while gliding around in them. (Audio: The Sandman)

The Ninth Doctor used his sonic screwdriver to seal the Compassionate away in the rift. He also rigged the sonic to explode. However, this sonic screwdriver was the model commonly used by the War Doctor, not the one from the first series of nuwho. (Audio: The Bleeding Heart)

The Twelfth Doctor thought he might regenerate when he was infected with the Venusian flu, but he also worried that the flu would take such a toll on him that he wouldn't be able to regenerate. (Audio: The Lost Flame)

Kwundaar looks so terrifying that the Doctor screamed after merely looking at him. (Audio: Primeval)

Erimem - a companion of the Fifth Doctor - brought her cat Antranak on board the TARDIS, whom the Doctor despised. There were several reasons for this, including that the Doctor was occasionally unable to set the controls because Antranak was lying on top of them. (Audio: The Church and the Crown)

C'rizz's father almost drowned him once as punishment for deviating from the Church of the Foundation. (Audio: The Next Life)

The Twelfth Doctor's sonic sunglasses have a Telepathic Emergency Beacon, which allows him to take control of another person's body. (Short story: My Dad, The Doctor)

There was a murderer in a place called the Needle, which should be impossible since everyone there has a chip inside of them stopping them from being violent. This killer traveled from person to person, something referred to as "redlining." The Seventh Doctor immediately redlined after being chipped. This whole situation began because a time traveller came to the needle, and the time travel mechanism was organic and a part of her, which made the computer go mad. The Doctor was drawn there and was sensitive to redlining due to his time sensitive nature and his biology. (Audio: Red)

Simon and Joanne, two characters in Lant Land, thought that Tegan and Turlough's names were unbelievable and proposed they change them to Yvonne and Derek. (Audio: Lant Land)

The Eleventh Doctor once gave the name Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart as a pseudonym. (Novel: Shroud of Sorrow)

Gemma, one of the Eighth Doctor’s companions, has called him Dad before, but the Doctor preferred to be called a cool uncle. (Audio: Terror Firma)

Turlough hates the cold and will complain if put in it. (Audio: Singularity)

The Sixth Doctor and Evelyn once thought they had accidentally cockblocked Julius Caesar's parents on the night of his conception. This meant that instead a baby girl named Julia was born, which Evelyn thought would be a brilliant chance to revolutionize the world. She kept trying to stop the Doctor from convincing Julius Caesar Sr. and Aurelia from hooking up at the proper time. Eventually, the two realize that 101 BC is before 100 BC and that they were doing this for no reason at all. (Audio: 100 BC)

The Spriggan was an alternate universe version of the Doctor, who terrorized a planet and used their youth to power his TARDIS. He even created an new Leela, but she fought him to protect the Tenth Doctor and threw him into the vortex. (Audio: Splinters)

The Galyari are a species of 8-foot tall reptiles that had extraordinary eyesight. Because of their exceptional vision, they found the Sixth Doctor to be literally painful to look at because of his coat. They were afraid of him and called him "the Sandman." (Audio: The Sandman)

The Tenth Doctor referred to the Seventh as the mysterious and manipulative type, the sort of rebellious phase someone goes through when they turn 1000 years old. (Novel: Legends of Camelot)

Joshua Douglas was a companion of the Third Doctor but stopped traveling with him after a disagreement. He was later killed while with the Fourth Doctor and Leela. (Audio: The Catalyst)

Mandy Litherland was incredibly fond of and sweet on the Ninth Doctor. After traveling to the past, she kissed the Doctor. The Doctor almost invited her to travel with him but didn't because he knew she probably wouldn't accept. (Audio: Auld Lang Syne)

Sometimes, when the Sixth Doctor is distressed and going off the deep end of his emotions, he has been known to break down in Evelyn's presence and cuddle with her. (Audio: Arrangements for War)

The Veil left the Twelfth Doctor a spade made of duralinum and a dwarf star alloy, which would have been strong enough to break the azbantium wall. The Doctor was wary of it, assuming it was a trap, and he used his fists on the wall instead. (Short story: The Veil)

Missy once saved the life of a young girl whose sister had asked her for help. She had stopped to rescue the child stuck high up while being chased by an assassin, without further witness, and without reward. The Doctor does not know of this. (Audio: The Chaos Cascade)

A young version of the Fifth Doctor post-Four to Doomsday once got displaced in time. Experiencing time slippage, he swapped places with his future selves and learned that Adric had died far too early. Eventually, he ended up in the body of an Auton duplicate the Master had made of the Doctor. He eventually faded away and died as the time slippage unraveled his past and his memories to an extent where he was running on his most basic desire: to save Adric. He had been convinced that if he was put back in his own time he could save him, and for that reason, the older Fifth Doctor refused to return him. (Audio: The Auton Infinity)

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romirola · 6 months ago

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For the first time since February 2020, I am sick. 🤒 As a distraction, I thought I'd share a bit of my current WIP. Under a cut because the full fic will be rated E for my typical brand of soft-smut. 18+ only, please!

I'm thinking this fic will be multiple chapters, and I always take the opportunity to remind people that I'm a SLOW writer. I don't start posting on AO3 until the story is drafted in full. It'll be awhile before this one gets to that stage, but oh, it has been a lot of fun to imagine so far.

“You’ve got a hypno-kink,” Milo repeated, giving a thoughtful nod. “So, what do we do about that?”

When Sweetheart had volunteered that information about themselves, Milo was shocked, to say the least. But he knew he needed to be strategic. One wrong move could make them retreat back into their defensive shell.

“I…” Sweetheart grimaced, feeling woefully unprepared for the conversation. “I don’t know,” they answered. “I thought you would think it was weird or something. I didn’t tell you to pressure you into it or anything like that. I’d never, ever want that.” Their hand found Milo’s under the covers and squeezed, the pulse matching the beat of the subtle song their core always sang when they were together. “I just thought you should know. Because I want you to know all of me, and that’s something about me.”

But Milo wanted more than just understanding. Much more. Understanding was a great start, but nowhere near the finish line he had in mind.

He eventually convinced Sweetheart to tell him all about their fantasies involving hypnosis that the stealth had spent far too long pretending were nonexistent or, at the very least, irrelevant. As they delved more into the topic, Milo began to connect the dots. It certainly was in character with Sweetheart. After all, time had shown that Sweetheart was something of a soft dom, which was a preference Milo knew quite well, being one himself. Still, the pair had never gotten caught up with rigid labels or limiting roles. They were way more focused on each other, frankly, and the love between them, to be concerned with trivial things like that. When their nights did veer more towards defined dynamics, however, both Milo and Sweetheart were content to trust each other to discover how to let things play out. It was a system that worked very, very well.

(some other stuff)

Slowly, and with constant prompting from Milo, Sweetheart had revealed more details about what drew them towards hypnotism.

“I like the idea of giving that kind of deep relaxation and guidance, to make you feel good. Accessing that control in a way that helps take away whatever might be holding you back— anxiety, insecurity, worry, whatever. And being in a position to do that for you…” Sweetheart’s thick eyebrows bounced twice. “I like the thought of that a lot. A lot a lot.”

In his quest to understand, Milo continued to press them for more details.

“Me being in the hypnotist's role,” Sweetheart declared with certainty when Milo asked them for more explanation. “And just to be clear, no, not in like a ‘I'll make you do things you don't want to do because I like power and control.’ Like a supervillain or something. Not at all like that.” Sweetheart swiped their flat palm across the air to emphasize their point. “For me, it's more about supporting you so you can do what you want to do and experience it in a really clear, pure way. Giving you that opportunity to just listen, to just be, to not even have to think, only feel. Maybe it’d take shape as me giving you cues that heighten your sensation or let you focus on pleasure,” Sweetheart explained. “Or…” They swallowed. “Maybe I’d have you on your knees, hot and begging and ready to obey any command I gave you.”

#redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted audio #redacted sweetheart #redacted milo #milo greer

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misscammiedawn · 1 year ago

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Ethical Personality Play

So. I've written about my experiences with Personality Play in the past. A couple times, actually.

The TL;DR is that from early 2000s-2019 this was my signature move that the first three hypnotists I was tied up with utilized on a near daily basis. The damage of this abuse has never been fully tallied, but if you want my "how to alter your personality with hypnosis" guide in a word it is simple:

Don't.

"But what if I want to do hypnotic edgeplay?"

But saving that... let me impart some wisdom in hopes that y'all will play nice and safe with this.

Firstly let me define the terms.

Personality Play is any form of hypnosis scene that alters aspects of the individual's identity whether it be for a scene, as a permanent trigger or as permanent conditioning. The danger amplifies with the more severe and lasting the changes are but there is always danger.

So, let's cover each area of what can be done, how it can be harmful and how to avoid that harm.

General rules

Before even negotiating this kind of play. Disclose.

If you are engaging with intimate hypnosis at this end of the danger spectrum then you need to have a level of intimate trust relative to that risk and this trust needs to go both ways. If I were a hypnotist introducing this kind of play into the mix I would do so only if I could trust in my hypnotee partner's mental state.

I disclose my BPD and DID at the start of any hypnotic relationship and talk about how they impact me. How the depersonalization and derealization symptoms require a level of grounding before and after play and what to do if my emotional state switches during the middle of a scene. This is not an easy thing for me to do, especially if time is a limited factor, but it's a necessary thing to do.

I do not expect every person playing be willing to disclose every mental condition they have or open up about possible abreaction triggers. That's sensitive information and it's natural to not want to be open about that with every partner. I do, however emphasize that it is vital for that information to be known when approaching these topics. It is unfair for the partner in the scenarios to be responsible for managing safety on either side of the watch when they are unaware of the depths of vulnerability.

I have experience with this fallacy myself. In utilizing hypnosis to ignore my triggers I did severe damage to myself and I am now plagued with intrusive memories and nightmares of events that happened during scenes that I was able to effortlessly indulge in during the scene but as they say "The body keeps the score" and I was in fact doing further damage to myself. Something which my partner at the time was not equipped to deal with because I'd failed to disclose or even treat the situation as worth being safe about.

Now I am just burdened with further damage by ignoring my brain's defenses on my existing pain.

Once again, I refer to my first bit of advice on how to ethically perform Personality Play: DON'T.

Once you have a trusting understanding of both sides of the watch's limits and comforts the next step is grounding.

Grounding is mandatory.

I wrote about my feelings on this before in more depth. The short version, though:

Before and after a scene with intense reality distorting you should take an effort to make a person feel aware of their surroundings, to offer them connection "during the scene you will know I am here and you can pause the scene at any time for any reason" and for them to take stock of their mental state and how they are feeling. Just ask them to display curiosity and provide comfort in the connection between hypnotist and hypnotee. You will be returning here and you need to make it an inviting space.

Grounding should also include a reminder that the hypnotee will be aware of what is happening the whole time. I'll cover this more in the more risky portion, but the key to safety is to ensure that the hypnotee is not immersed in any headspaces they may slip into (with the understanding that there is another gradient here of subspace and highs and peaks from scene play which are chemical reactions and those highs are a little more natural than the altered headspaces I am referring to).

For another grain of personal experience and warning here, I just want to talk about the three hypnotists who played with me utilizing personality play. One knew what he was doing, one didn't know what they were doing and one didn't care. I'll refer to them as Noel (knew better), Dinny (didn't know) and Carrie (didn't care).

Dinny expected that if a scene got too much for me that I would drop out of trance or end the scene. To them they assumed that no one will do anything in hypnosis that they didn't want to do and that it was just extreme play-acting. They likely didn't believe in hypnosis all that much and used it as a framework for roleplay, which is their true indulgence.

So if a scene got too intense for them they would safeword. End the scene. They were in control.

As someone who was immersed in the play and had no grounding, there was no escape because within the framework of the scene, there was no "out of character" there was the scene and that was all that was happening.

You cannot assume that a hypnotee will safeword and end a scene unless they receive the proper grounding and instruction to do so. If you're going to be doing edge play, you have to surrender the fantasy and make sure reality is in the scene at all times. Both sides of the watch. If you are entering in a scene where a person is altered throughout then you cannot expect them to act on their agency. It's a CNC scene by default and you need to introduce safety and consent to avoid that.

Likewise I want to note the power imbalance that comes from play like this. A motivated hypnotee can fling themselves into this arena and do harm to the hypnotist. This does fly both ways. A hypnotee not advocating for themselves or exercising their agency will make a hypnotist accessory to the damage.

This is a sin I have committed.

A hypnotist has a responsibility to themselves to not allow a self-neglecting hypnotee use hypnosis as a method of psychological self-harm. This guide is as much to protect a hypnotist from being abused as it is for hypnotees to avoid allowing themselves to be abused.

Every side is vulnerable in these exchanges.

So... now that we understand the basics before we can even start, let's start in the shallow end and work out way up.

Emotion Control/Intelligence Play

Starting soft. This is fairly standard play and so long as you're being mindful I doubt many would have too many problems with these suggestions.

Infatuation potions, ditzy spells... this is fairly standard stuff.

The key thing to do is to ensure that the effects are temporary and impersonal. For instance for an intelligence play scene you may want to picture a dial in the hypnotees head that has a default setting. Take a moment to ground that default setting. What is normal. What it feels like out of hypnosis. Then you can suggest that it will always return to this default setting after a time but for now we intend to dial it back down, as you feel yourself growing sillier and sillier.

This is a safe way to handle a scene like this because even if you do not perform a post-session grounding (which you always should), the default will naturally return.

Likewise infatuation potions you can mention how your body will metabolize and you'll be aware of the artificial nature of the emotions you feel.

Being aware of the artificial nature of the emotions at play will prevent lingering effects. Even after you clean up there will always be a little bit left over and it's a matter of limiting how much sticks around and where the mind will return to.

I safely play with suggestions like this to this day even when Personality Play in the broader sense is Red for me. This is safe. It's manageable. It's temporary and with a partner who is willing to make space for it, you can keep reality in the room. Safe and secure.

But it can still be dangerous.

Let's see the intelligence play scene was handled poorly. Instead of a temporary dial which defaults to normal a hypnotist instead asked "Debra" to imagine herself with platinum blonde hair, a larger chest, all her thoughts evaporating into a pink bubblegum mist as boundless confidence overcomes her until she transforms into her bimbo persona, "Debbie" and Debbie can be summoned at a simple turn of phrase.

That right there? That's DANGEROUS.

We'll cover more as to why when I go over persona/character play, but it's a good example of how a "bimbo trigger" can be performed ethically and how it can be performed dangerously.

*sighs*

So let's move on...

Altered Headspaces

By altered headspaces I mean suggestions and scenes that play on your ability to perceive and process things. This can be the drugged/drunk sequences, hallucinations of any variety. It can be impulsiveness or boosts of confidence or terror.

Y'know. Stage hypnosis stuff. Because as we know, stage hypnosis tricks are a bastion of "ethical" suggestions.

Seriously though. The prevalence of these types of suggestion in the public perception make us as a community look bad and it's why doing them safely is vital, especially if we do get people entering the community with the idea of types of play which are risky at best from the get-go.

For these suggestions you want to provide the above grounding, but the hypnotee also needs to be able to have an objective view to their state so they can advocate for themselves.

Any altered headspace will supplement agency. It's why you cannot negotiate with someone when they are fractionated. Thusly, any interaction you have with someone in an altered headspace is going to be dubious consent by default. What if you made someone slutty for a scene and they escalated the scene to a sexual one without prior negotiation or existing rapport.

The correct thing to do is end the scene there and then. Otherwise the hypnotist is taking advantage of the hypnotee.

That's a fairly plain example, too. Hence why I feel even this level is edge play.

I don't particularly want to share my personal experience in this realm. Suffice to say I've never once in my life had lucid sexual intimacy with a partner. Every single time I was altered. I literally cannot approach the concept/act without being altered first. I invited it.

The body keeps score.

The way to practice this safely is to encourage the hypnotee to maintain an awareness and presence in the scene. There is a risk to this as incentivizing a dissociation between the conscious self and the altered self is the exact thing we are trying to avoid in these scenarios.

I refer again to the shining DON'T at the top of the post.

But with the correct grounding and temporary status of any scene this risk is lower than the risk of allowing a hypnotee to dive into a scene so heavily that they will ignore their personal ethics and safety for the consideration of the scene at play.

It's either allowing them the ability to advocate for themselves while altered, "the hidden observer will always be present during the scene and can stop things for any reason or just to check in" basically it's keeping reality in the room. A hypnotee should be discouraged from throwing themselves headlong into the fantasy and an awareness of waking self and the artificial nature of play is important, particularly the more immersive you go...

So...

Character/Persona Play

Which brings me to the final warning.

Please do not even attempt this. I see kids in tulpa communities and roleplayers who can't see the harm in becoming their characters and I wish I could share a grain of my experiences.

I did this for 18 years. Eighteen years. Daily. The damage it has done to me is never ever going to be fixed.

The thread I made on Twitter received a number of supportive messages from others with dissociative disorders who echoed my sentiments. I'm legitimately at the point where I ask "were we attracted to this type of play because we were predisposed to it" or "do we have serious disorders due to our time playing in the deep end"

Neither one need to be true. Doing so did damage. A lot of damage.

So here's my first question off the bat.

"What if your hypnotist gets hit by a bus?" what if one day you wake up and you no longer have someone to explore this gigantic portion of your soul with. What if access to this kind of play existed only within a relationship. Are you willing to allow that much of your personal experience and agency be left to someone else's hands?

What about trust. Can you trust someone to shape a part of yourself? Dinny, Carrie and Noel each did harm in their own way handling the bits of me I shared with them. Noel warped and twisted and perverted them to the point of which these characters, real and living aspects of me feel violated by his impact upon them. Carrie abandoned them and let them wither and die without even considering attachments I had made to them... attachments they had to the stories and connections they had made... and then Dinny? Dinny never treated them as real. They were fantasy and the situations were fantasy and it was all just a game.

Let me tell you about that last one. If you want to play out a hateship scene and utilize hypnosis to make your partner think that they are in that hateship scene, the emotions exist. They will bleed through and poison you in your waking state. If you are made to perform as a vampire who wants nothing more than to taste flesh then you are going to feel that desperate hunger and be trying with every fiber of your being to overpower the hypnotist who has the ability to end the scene if things get rough but, and this is the important part, unless you set up grounding-- you will not know that in the moment.

I legitimately have nightmares about the things I did while acting in scenes Dinny ran.

And lastly...

Are you willing to accept that there are parts of you that can do things that you in your waking and natural state, simply cannot do?

I do not know if doing these things makes you more vulnerable to the symptoms of a dissociative disorder or not, but I know that a damn lot of people who did this stuff excessively happen to have these symptoms.

Look. I don't hide my DID diagnosis on Tumblr. It hurts that I have a mesmerizing Fae in my heart who is more lovable than I am, more confident, more capable, more experienced and charming. I hate that she can perform feminine voice better than me. I hate that she can push boundaries and harm me without a thought. I hate feeling inferior to me. I hate feeling like I'm just a function of a person that people want around more.

I hate finding evidence that she had a whole online life that we hid so well that even post-diagnosis I am not fully sure what she did. I hate feeling powerless that I'm not in control of my own life and reality.

Dawn scares me. I am afraid of the part of me that most people love.

...and I have no way of communicating that as a warning that doesn't sound exotic and enticing. Because dissociative disorders are not exotic and enticing. They're boring, exhausting and tedious and though I am 50/50 on whether it can be accidentally induced through hypnosis play, I know there is no damned chance in hell any person should willingly gamble with that possibility.

I know so many systems and people who have endured extreme brainwashing who would be behind me when I say this.

DO. NOT. DO. IT.

...and so... assuming you have read all the warnings and you're not actively trying to invoke installed personalities into a person (which I do not condone under any circumstances at all).

How can we do character play and not leave lasting damage?

That's a question I have asked myself so so many times.

Firstly, avoid anything that makes the character headspace an extra layer. Do not use hypnosis to mold them. Do not give them their own triggers. Do not do anything which can be used as a divide between the waking self and the constructed persona.

But that's more "Don't" isn't it. Here's what you can do.

I think the best way is instead of having the hypnotee monitor the scene and step in when they need to, ask them to treat it as a performance. That they are aware of the artificial nature of the scene but at all times they will commit to taking on the role as an actor would on stage.

The key is to associate the role with the hypnotee enough that they are present in the scene while allowing them to commit to the actions without experiencing the thoughts and feelings of their own. Insist that no matter the morality and behavior of the character, the hypnotee as the actor will never cross their personal limits or ethics for the sake of the scene.

Then at the end of the sequence be sure to end the scene and ground the hypnotee, have them remember everything that had happened, remember them performing the act and deciding how to handle every decision. Make sure that the entire time that character and actor are one and the same and all hypnosis is doing is allowing the actor to invest in the bit.

That is legitimately the only safe way I think one can engage in this kind of play and from that angle it seems as harmless a suggestion as any scene.

But no shortcuts. No triggers that induce character headspace. No trying to breathe life into characters and allow them to inhabit. Even channeling them or letting them speak through the hypnotee courts a level of dissonance between states.

It's possible to enjoy the spontaneity of character play without suppressing the ego of the hypnotee. As I mentioned at the start, it may seem like a desirable outcome for some hypnotees to experience a state of ego-death and allow themselves to experience becoming someone else for a little while. It sounds appealing on paper.

A responsible hypnotist should never indulge that kind of desire and a respectable hypnotee should never burden a hypnotist with that level of responsibility. The damage is too risky.

Lastly, and this applies to all.

DEBFRIEF

Every major scene in any kink should involve a debrief segment. This helps with the grounding and it helps establish the in and out of scene dynamic while allowing the hypnotee to associate with their actions. "I did" rather than "they did".

One of my bigger mistakes in character play in my younger days was that I baked amnesia in and allowed my play partner to tell me about the scenes after the fact. This made it seem like the characters in the scene were the ones controlling things and I was a passive and absent spectator. Not good for healthy associations.

During a debrief the hypnotist and hypnotee should discuss their roles in the scene, how they felt during the experience. It gives both parties an opportunity to interrogate how the other is perceiving things, catch any flags (abuse of control over the scene, losing reality to fantasy etc) and give one another ideas for how to improve for future scenes. Debriefs make all kink play better in my opinion. Plus who doesn't like a bit of feedback on how you handled things in scene?

...look... I don't want to be an old lady yelling at the kids for doing things when I did them myself at that age.

I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't pretend I didn't see the allure on both sides of the watch.

I just... there weren't 20+ year experienced hypnosis veterans who had been in my character play abusing position when I was growing up. No one warned me. I learned all this the hard way and I hurt people. People I loved. Moreover I hurt me. In ways that will never heal.

I just want to spare anyone I can the pain of going through this.

So, in quick summary:

Ensure reality is always in the room.

Ensure the hypnotee is always aware of themselves and their action.

Reset after every scene.

Do not allow situational scenes to become direct triggers.

If you insist on reusing altered headspaces and characters then install and deinstal every time to limit any lingering traces out of scene. Do not allow them to have programming/conditioning unique to them.

Avoid allowing the hypnotee to circumvent their own ego and agency in a scene.

Debrief

Play safe... if you must play at all.

#camden posting #community safety #hypnosis #hypnokink #watch me post my trauma in public #personal

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kallie-den · 22 days ago

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Lifestyle Takeover Ch. 1

Mel is tasked with taking down mean, domineering business rival Vivienne Gilbert - who, as it just so happens, is a secret superfan of Mel’s journalist best friend turned pet bimbo, Emma

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---

As she sat outside the CEO of Valeyard Solutions’s office, Mel Adams checked the time on her phone once more and sighed. Supposedly, her host was running five minutes late - this, from a woman who had never been tardy for anything in her life. Making Mel wait was the most transparent power play in the book, and worst of all, it was proving entirely effective at pissing her off.

Really, the whole situation was setting her on edge. An unfamiliar office in an unfamiliar building, opulent yet spartan, and Mel was about to meet one of the most formidable rising stars of the hypnogarch world. A woman who, like Mel, hailed from a social and economic elite who used mind control to leverage and reinforce their power. Only, unlike Mel, this woman had notches on her belt and a fearsome reputation. They were meeting on her turf, too. In hostile territory. Mel was out of her depth.

Which was, of course, the point. This was a test. Mel’s trial by fire, given to her by her parents. To become a fully-fledged hypnogarch, you had to be strong. If you weren’t, your peers would eat your lunch and make you thank them for it while your brains drooled out of your ears.

“Ms. Adams?” said a secretary, approaching and offering a polite little bow. “Thank you for waiting. The CEO will see you now.”

Mel rose from her seat and followed as the secretary led her into the office. She didn’t bother to reply. There was no point, and, like all the others, she gave Mel the creeps. The entire floor was staffed with near-identical women, all of whom wore identical outfits: tiny pencil skirts and tight, white blouses, open to expose cleavage - and all of them had suitable bodies to make the clothes distracting. But more to the point, each one of them had a certain telltale, glazed look in their wide, guileless eyes.

All of the secretaries were completely hypnotized.

It was another typical flex from a powerful hypnogarch. But just like making Mel wait, it was unnerving.

“Melanie Adams,” said the woman behind the CEO’s desk, as they reached her. She smiled a thin smile. “My. I suppose I should be honored.”

It was her. Vivienne Yvette Gilbert. Mel would have recognized her anywhere from all the magazine covers and fawning interviews. She looked just the way she always did in her photos: tall, professional, and classically beautiful, but modest, with her long, tailored suit only just tight enough to hint at the well-honed body underneath. Her auburn hair was tucked back in a neat, disciplined ponytail, and her eyes reflected a keen, vicious intelligence.

Vivienne Gilbert was a business savant, combining old money wisdom with new money ambition, and was, by all accounts, an extremely skilled hypnotist. Her company was taking the corporate world by storm, and the small army of brainwashed secretaries outside attested to her ability to get whatever she wanted from people, by any means necessary.

This was Mel’s test. This was the woman she had to destroy.

“Mel, please,” she offered. “And really, I’m the one who’s honored. Your time is valuable.”

Vivienne nodded graciously, and indicated for Mel to take a seat opposite her. The secretary who had led Mel inside stood at attention to one side, against a nearby wall.

“So,” Vivienne began. Her confidence was supreme. “To what do I owe this pleasure - a visit from the profligate faildaughter of two of high society’s most prominent elite?”

Mel bristled a little, but didn’t let it show in her face. “Curiosity, really. I thought that the two of us might want to get to know each other a little. After all, we’re both from the same generation, right? Just like mine, your parents were-“

“Cut the crap,” Vivienne interrupted with a slicing wave of her hand. She leaned forward. “My time is valuable - more valuable than yours, at any rate - so let’s not waste it. Despite your wasted youth, I’m told that you’ve recently taken a position as executive vice president at one of the family businesses. And recently, shell companies attached to your family have been making aggressive offers to buy out my stake in Valeyard - offers I have declined.”

Mel simply nodded. She wasn’t surprised to learn that Vivienne had figured this much out. Anything less would have been a disappointment.

“You’re here,” Vivienne surmised, “because your mothers asked you to make in-person overtures. They want my Valeyard, and they’ve sent you to persuade me to sell.” She let out a brief, quiet laugh. “Amusing.”

Mel spread her arms. “You’re correct, of course,” she replied. “So far, you’ve rejected all offers. That’s your right. But everybody has their price, even if it’s not monetary. Assurances, perhaps. A position in one of our conglomerates? With Valeyard in the family, we could achieve new levels of market dominance and integration. You could be part of that. You could reap the rewards. Power, prestige - you name it.”

It wasn’t a bad offer - but just as Mel had expected, Vivienne rolled her eyes.

“Sophistry,” the CEO dismissed. “You and your parents simply want to take what’s rightfully mine. You want control - and you want it because you’re afraid. My Valeyard’s quarterly numbers put all of yours to shame. For now, I’m just a good story. A new, rising star. But in a few years, I’ll be knocking at your family’s doors. Challenging your mothers. I’ll be a competitor. A rival. A threat.”

Mel said nothing. She wasn’t wrong.

“Let me make this very clear.” Vivienne smiled a shark’s smile. “I am a threat. You and your mothers are right to be afraid. I’m not willing to be a partner or a pawn, or a… vice president.” She sneered the last two words. “I intend to come out on top. Understand?”

“With respect,” Mel replied, after a moment’s consideration. “Valeyard isn’t exactly rightfully yours, is it? You’ve already shown a willingness to jump ship, given the right opportunity. After all, you didn’t found this company. You simply acquired it. You took advantage of someone else’s capital and someone else’s ideas. Perhaps we aren’t so different.”

Vivienne simply laughed at the provocation. “You really are new to this world, aren’t you?” she mocked. “Yes, I acquired Valeyard. I took it from the original owner. Do you understand what that means? It’s mine. Not hers. Mine. She lacked the strength to hold on to what she’d built, and I had the strength to take it. That’s the very definition of rightful ownership.”

“I understand,” Mel retorted. “And you’ve guided the company all the way to the top of the stock market. Some would say you’ve already proven yourself.”

“Some would say?” Vivienne echoed derisively. “Ridiculous. You’ll have to do much better than that if you expect to convince me. Especially since I suspect that your mothers would prefer I end up much like the original founder.”

“And how’s that?” Mel asked.

Vivienne’s smile grew wider than ever, and she gestured off to one side. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Hairs stood at attention on the back of Mel’s neck as she realized Vivienne was indicating the brainwashed, identity-scrubbed secretary who’d led her into the office.

At first, it seemed absurd to believe that such a sharp, entrepreneurial mind could have been so completely blunted. But Mel knew all too well just how far someone could fall given the right kind of treatment, and besides, now that she was looking closely, there was a certain, unmistakably resemblance between the woman standing at attention before her and the woman she’d seen in old photographs when she’d been researching Valeyard’s history.

How long must she have been a mind-controlled thrall by now? Years? It was terrible to imagine - but the worst part was that, even as they were talking about her, the woman’s eyes registered absolutely nothing but blank, blissful, helpless compliance.

For the first time, Mel felt truly intimidated by the task her mothers had presented her with.

“By the time she signed over her company to me, she couldn’t even remember what she was losing.” Mel turned back to Vivienne and saw that she was turning over a pocket watch between her fingers. It was, by all accounts, her preferred instrument of control. “Still, I suppose she’s happy enough - serving me. It’s right where she belongs. Don’t you think?”

Mel just sighed. “I don’t think you intend to seriously entertain any offer I make you.”

“At least you’re smart enough to have figured that out,” Vivienne remarked. She closed her pocket watch and slipped it back into her jacket pocket. “No, I don’t. I just wanted to get your measure. And if you’re the best your mothers can send, well… I’m not impressed.”

“I see,” Mel said stiffly. She stood. “In that case, I won’t take up any more of your precious time.”

“Very gracious.” Vivienne replied contemptuously. She stood too, and indicated the door. “I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of showing yourself out.”

Mel turned, ready to leave. Vivienne didn’t seem to have figured out that Mel had been sent to brainwash her, not persuade her. That was, perhaps, a tiny advantage - but she couldn’t imagine how she might possibly leverage it. She’d seen no hint of any chink in Vivienne’s armor, and given that Mel’s skills as a hypnotist were still developing, she couldn’t see herself winning out in a fair fight. She needed an angle, but there was none.

What did that leave? How was she possibly supposed to win?

At that moment, as Mel was taking her first step towards the door, something happened that caught her attention: her and Vivienne’s phones both buzzed and lit up at exactly the same moment.

Vivienne’s phone buzzed all the time, of course. But for it to happen at precisely the same instant was a little weird. It was as if they had just received the exact same notification. Mel had to assume it was nothing more than a coincidence, but all the same, she found herself glancing at her phone to check.

It was a notification from her girlfriend Emma’s OnlyFans.

Mel didn’t really need to sign up for it - after all, Emma was not only her girlfriend, she was brainwashed to adoringly follow every one of Mel’s wishes. But Mel stayed signed up all the same, both to be supportive and because Emma regularly posted some very, very high-quality content. Despite all the brainpower she’d lost, she was quickly developing her talents as both a model and a photographer. The image set Emma had just posted was particularly alluring: she was dressed, as usual, in pink, skimpy exercise gear, and was in a series of unbelievable poses that perfectly showcased her sluttiness, her flexibility, and her curves all at once. Mel was lucky enough to be able to enjoy that body every night, but even so, it got her just a little hot and bothered.

Quickly, Mel slipped her phone away and chalked the simultaneous notifications up to coincidence. After all, there was no way that Vivienne Gilbert, of all people, was signed up to Emma’s OnlyFans.

Or so she thought, until she looked over and saw Vivienne staring at her screen with a faint but distinct blush in her cheeks.

It still seemed impossible. But suddenly Mel found herself wondering.

“Vivienne?” Mel voiced cautiously. “Is something up?”

“Hm?” Abruptly, Vivienne realized that she was still in the presence of her guest. “No. No, of course not,” she said, a touch too sharply. “But as you can see, I’m very, very busy. Please leave.”

Her tone was off - and more to the point, Mel caught a glimpse of something damning as Vivienne slipped her phone into her pocket.

The OnlyFans logo.

“Of course,” Mel said. “Goodbye.”

She left the Valeyard headquarters with a fresh spring in her step. It had come from the unlikeliest of places, and she still wasn’t sure of her next move, but suddenly Mel had something to work with.

She’d just found her angle.

***

“Hey, Emma? I’m back!”

As soon as Mel stepped into their penthouse apartment and called out to her girlfriend, Emma Park started bouncing toward her with the energy of a golden retriever.

“Babe!” she gushed, as she leapt into Mel’s arms. “Ohmigosh, you’re like, so early!”

Mel couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Bouncing’ really was the most appropriate term. On top, Emma was wearing nothing but a pink sports bra that was specifically intended to look tight and press her cleavage together while doing absolutely nothing to keep her assets from jiggling up and down as she exercised vigorously for her audience.

Emma Park, exercise bimbo. It was her brand, and she worked it marvelously.

“I just couldn’t stay away,” Mel said brightly. “I love you, Em.”

Emma’s whole face lit up. “I love you too!” she exclaimed, delighted, and started giggling.

As it often did, even after six months, seeing Emma like that did hit Mel with a certain pang. After all, Mel had made her girlfriend this way. Unbeknownst to Emma, Mel had transformed her from a brave, smart muckraker to an airheaded, giggly bimbo. It had been done out of love, because it had seemed like the surest way to save Emma from herself, and from the clutches of the kind of mind controllers she was investigating - but still, it troubled Mel that she’d needed to take from Emma so much of the sharpness and activist passion that she’d always loved about it.

She’d tried to preserve, though, the kernel of all that. Emma’s passion; her energy and drive, her enthusiasm for her work, and her talent for connecting with an audience. It just so happened that, now, all of that was directed differently, at her OnlyFans career instead of investigative journalism. Emma was flourishing in her life: she was hot, successful, popular, healthier than ever - and most importantly of all, happy.

Mel had her pangs of guilt, but making sure the girl she loved was happy and safe was something she would never be sorry for.

“Actually,” Mel said, pushing down on her reflections. “I have an ulterior motive. I’m here because I need to talk to you. I was hoping you could help me out with… with a work thing.”

“Oh, woah,” Emma tittered, dragging Mel over to their couch. “I dunno, I’m not good with all that, like, smart corporate stuff.”

“True,” Mel conceded. “But in this case… look, what if I wanted to track down someone on OnlyFans? Someone who I knew was one of your patrons on there?”

“Oh!” Emma seemed surprised at the question, but her eagerness shone through. “Well, um… do you know, like their username or anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mel replied. “I know who they are in real life, and I know - or, at least, I’m hoping - that they’re signed up to support you. I just need to try and dig into that a little more.”

“Hmm.” Emma stood up and started pacing circles around their apartment. It was a huge space - an open-plan penthouse that Mel had lived in alone for years. There had been plenty of room for Emma, and now part of it had been converted to serve as a dedicated exercise area and set. “I dunno… I mean, most people are pretty, like… what’s the word… anonymous?”

“Yeah.” Mel slumped. “Damn. I should have figured.”

“Sooo.” Emma leaned over and peered at Mel. “Who is it, anyway?”

“Vivienne Gilbert,” Mel said. “She’s a big-time CEO,” she added, when Mel gave her a blank look. “It’s for my folks. They want me to… well, to brainwash her somehow.”

She hesitated to mention it to Emma at first. The old Emma wouldn’t have approved. In truth, the old Mel might not have either. She’d always kept hypnogarch power games at arm’s length, but masterminding Emma’s transformation had given her a certain taste for it - a taste her mothers had been eager to help develop. Now, Mel was coming into her own as both a business leader and a mind controller. She was steadily becoming the kind of heir her mothers could be proud of.

But Vivienne Gilbert, it seemed, stood in her way.

“Hmm,” Emma pondered for a long moment. “Well, um… if she’s, like, super-rich, then maybe she’ll be, like… one of the real big spenders?”

Mel’s eyes went wide. Clearly, some of Emma’s old journalistic instincts were still in there - and she’d never been more glad.

“Oh my god!” she cried. “Emma, you’re a genius.”

At that, her girlfriend just giggled.

“Can you show me a list?” Mel asked urgently. “Maybe something will jump out.”

“Sure!”

Emma perched back down on the couch, brought up her OnlyFans on her phone, and, with Mel peering over her shoulder, navigated to a list of her supporters and sorted them by total financial contribution.

The top name immediately stood out. A ludicrously huge tipper - anonymous, but with the email address ‘[email protected]’.

Gotcha. Mel could have danced a jig.

Instead, she reached over Emma’s shoulder and took the phone from her girlfriend’s hands. With manic energy, Mel navigated to what had to be Vivienne’s profile and started looking over her activity history. Not only was she a big spender, she had also left long, enthusiastic comments on every single one of Emma’s posts, including the one Emma had put up during their meeting.

‘Emma!’ it read, ‘my goodness, you NEED to stop distracting me while I’m in meetings… I’m going crazy, this is your best set of pics yet! I know I always say that, but WOW. I’m SOOOO jealous of your mysterious mistress for getting to put her hands all over you all night long. What I wouldn’t do to take her place… she must be quite the woman, I can see that she’s left you with nothing to worry about except pumping reps, draining your brain, and showing yourself off. No worries, no cares, no stresses, just perfect, bimbo bliss. Honestly, I’m a little jealous… but mostly I’m so glad I get to be your no. 1 fan!’

Mel wasn’t one to judge, but she couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. She was having a hard time picturing the icy, vicious CEO she’d just met with saying something like that. The message was gushy, to say the least, but the detail about the meeting all but confirmed Mel’s suspicion about this being Vivienne. More importantly than anything - even her obsession with Emma - Mel detected something crucial in Vivienne’s message. A kind of confused longing, as the CEO described Emma’s ‘bimbo bliss.’ It was enough to make Mel wonder which of them, exactly, the woman was truly jealous of.

Maybe, just maybe, Vivienne Gilbert’s armor wasn’t so impenetrable after all.

And maybe Mel had the perfect weapon sitting right by her side, giggling happily.

“Hey, Emma,” Mel said slowly, as a plan started to form in her head. “What do you say to making a special little thank you video for your number one fan?”

***

As soon as Vivienne Gilbert closed the door to her family’s mansion behind her and felt herself safe from prying eyes, she let her shoulders slump and permitted herself to release a deep, weary sigh. It had been a long day - but then, weren’t they all? - and by the time the last of Vivienne’s engagements had concluded, the sun was long since set. Her staff had retired to their quarters for the night, leaving Vivienne alone to rest for the night.

For five hours - six, if she was really lucky - before she would have to wake up and do it all over again.

When Vivienne had first set her sights on the very pinnacle of social, economic, and mental dominance, she hadn’t quite appreciated how bone-weary the struggle would leave her, day after day. There was no end to it: to the challengers, rivals, competitors and schemers, each one of whom needed to be managed, defeated or subverted as Vivienne climbed her way to the top.

It was a good thing, then, that being in her family’s old home always reignited the flame of Vivienne’s ambition. She remembered it as it had been in her youth: grand, yes, but dark, faded, outdated. Now, thanks to the fortune she had amassed, it had been reborn in splendor. Thanks to her tireless efforts, the name ‘Vivienne Gilbert’ echoed through the corridors of power.

Yes. For this, it was all worth it.

The corners of Vivienne’s lips turned upward in a faint sneer as she remembered how, in their meeting earlier that day, Melanie Adams had tried to draw some kind of comparison between their upbringings. Ridiculous. What would she know? Melanie Adams was the daughter of two prominent, rich, successful hypnogarchs at the top of their game. She couldn’t possibly fathom the kind of scorn that was piled on the daughter of a fading, old-money family being overtaken by a new generation of power-hungry leaders. She had been allowed to laze about for years and take an interest in business and hypnosis when it pleased her, while Vivienne had been orphaned as she’d left business school, and forced to fight alone in the hungry power games that dominated their society in order to secure her position and rebuild her family name.

Melanie Adams couldn’t fathom that kind of drive. She was just another trust fund brat, underestimating her.

But that was OK. It would just make it all the more satisfying when Vivienne ate her mothers’ companies alive and made them beg to lick her shoes clean.

Vivienne smiled ruefully to herself as she let down her long, wavy, auburn hair. Spite was as good a motivator as any. Getting to crush irritating little bugs like Melanie Adams was one of the many pleasures of success. That was, admittedly, a few years away. With her at the helm, Valeyard had taken the corporate world by storm, and was well on its way to becoming a major player, but rapid expansion took time and careful management. For tonight, Vivienne would simply have to find some way to relax in the brief time she could afford before going to bed.

Right on time, her phone chirped with an incoming notification.

When she looked and saw that it was an OnlyFans post, Vivienne’s stomach filled with a delicious, naughty sense of arousal and anticipation. Her OF subscriptions were her guilty pleasure - a secret one, of course. In her line of work, it could be dangerous to let one’s pleasures and proclivities become widely known, which was why Vivienne was always very careful to use a dummy corporate email with no name attached. Valeyard had thousands of employees, and there was nothing to tie her account back to her.

Which meant that, when the mood took her, Vivienne was free to enjoy herself in peace.

Vivienne rushed upstairs to her bedroom, perched on the edge of her huge bed, and opened up OnlyFans. Her wicked excitement doubled when she saw who the notification was from: Emma. Her very favorite. Two posts from her in one day was a rare treat.

The CEO’s eyes widened when she realized that the notification wasn’t a post at all. It was a private message.

‘hiiii,’ it read. ‘hope you’re doing just peachy! I know you’re all anonymous and I like totally respect that! but I also rly rly wanted to do something extra special for my no 1 fan!! so here’s a special private vid nobody else gets to see!!! hope you enjoy it!!! Emma xoxo’

For the first time in Vivienne Gilbert’s life, she felt herself genuinely starstruck. Her heart was pounding, and a giddy, nervous smile came to her face. Her fingertips trembled as she tapped on the screen and downloaded the attached video.

More than once, she’d felt a little embarrassed by how much she’d willingly given to Emma’s OnlyFans. But now, she was nothing but grateful.

Emma wasn’t Vivienne’s only OF sub, but she was by far her favorite. It was difficult to put her finger on why; to Vivienne, Emma was simply perfect. The perfect bimbo. Hot? Yes. Dumb? Yes. Blonde, pink, submissive? Extremely. But beyond that - and beyond any other brainwashed bimbo Vivienne had ever seen - there was something truly, remarkably carefree about Emma. When she giggled, or posed, or exercised for the camera, there was something magical about the way all the old, faded little worry lines in her face completely evaporated, leaving her the very image of mindless, brainwashed bliss.

Whoever her mistress was, they clearly took excellent care of her.

After discovering Emma’s OnlyFans, Vivienne had often considered taking on a bimbo pet of her own. It wouldn’t have been difficult - for a person of her resources and a hypnotist of her talents, there were any number of women who could easily be molded into her ideal bimbo plaything. It might even make a nice change from the identical, obedient secretaries that had become Vivienne’s signature.

But somehow, she just couldn’t bring herself to.

She lacked the time, Vivienne reasoned. Or, perhaps, she didn’t want a distraction from her work. Perhaps she didn’t want her fondness for bimbos to be so easily discovered by one of her many, many enemies. Those were all fine reasons - but they weren’t the real reason. Deep down, Vivienne knew that the reason she loved Emma’s content so much wasn’t because she wanted to own a bimbo like her.

It was because she was ever so slightly envious of her.

Just thinking about it brought a faint blush to Vivienne’s cheeks. It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even, for a woman like her. But in her heart of hearts, she couldn’t deny that there was something appealing about the idea of sinking into that carefree bimbo mindset - of forgetting all the stresses and pressures that accompanied her career, and becoming so dumb and giggly that none of it seemed to matter.

Looking at Emma on OnlyFans made her feel that longing far more keenly, somehow.

It was, of course, a deeply inappropriate and shameful desire for a hypnogarch to entertain. Vivienne had to excuse it to herself as nothing more than an aberration of her psyche; a byproduct of the immense stress she was under, day after day. It had no deeper meaning. It was a fantasy. Nothing more.

And crucially, nobody would ever know.

Safe and secure in that knowledge, Vivienne got comfy on her bed and hit ‘play’ on the video Emma had sent her.

It began with a familiar scene: the set Emma used to film almost all her videos. It was a space in some kind of large apartment, with the floor covered in exercise mats, set against a pink, decorated backdrop. In front of it, Emma stood, and her outfit immediately sent thrilling shivers racing down Vivienne’s spine.

She was dressed up like a cheerleader. That was new.

Emma certainly had the body to pull off the tiny top and scandalous, pleated miniskirt. She was in incredible shape. Her body put Vivienne’s to shame, and that was saying something. Vivienne flattered herself that she looked good. She’d been blessed by genetics, and she incorporated enough exercise into her routine to keep her waist trim and her butt bubbly and shapely. She made sure, of course, to dress with the kind of restraint and dignity that befitted her station, but she’d often found it useful to be able to distract the eye of a prospective rival with a hint of her shapely legs or prodigious cleavage. All the better to lull them into a trance.

Emma, though? She was simply in a different league. All the time and effort she spent working on her body really showed.

One more thing to be envious of.

“Hiiii,” Emma squealed gleefully on the video, with a little bounce that was hot and adorable in equal measure. “Wow! I just, like, love getting to say hi to my number one fan! You’ve given me so much, I really just wanna give you a little gift in return. As, like, a thank-you!”

Vivienne found herself surprisingly flustered. She’d never dared hope for even this level of personal attention from her idol.

“You’ve been cheering me on soooo much, all this time,” Emma went on. “So I figured, maybe I should do a little cheering for you? That’s… um… it’s… irony? I think?”

She giggled. Vivienne did too.

“You must really super like me.” As she spoke Emma bent down and picked up a pair of pom-poms that had been resting at her feet, one in each hand - pink, of course. “I’m, like, totally flattered. Sorta makes me wonder… why? Like, how come you like me so much?”

Already, Vivienne was mesmerized. Emma just looked so good. She made a mental note to reply to the bimbo’s message and explain every little thing she loved about her.

“I mean, obviously I’m, like, so pretty and hot.” Emma struck a little pose. Vivienne purred appreciatively. “But, maybe it’s something more than that?” She giggled. “I dunno. I guess I’m not smart enough to figure out stuff like that.”

Her mindless, carefree laugh washed over Vivienne like a warm, calming ocean tide. Yes, this was the perfect way to relax after a long day.

“Anyway!” Emma made a little show of bending this way and that, stretching and warming in. In the process, her pleated skirt rode up over her ass and hips, giving Vivienne quite the eye-candy to enjoy. “Here I go!”

Vivienne was holding her phone closer and closer to her face. She didn’t want to miss a thing. Already, her body was buzzing with pleasant arousal. Seeing Emma giggle and trip up on her words and bounce around always did it for her, and the CEO was becoming more and more aware of the pent-up need that had been building inside her all day. Her hand started to stray down, toward the hem of her pants.

Abruptly, music started to play. Not a soundtrack, added in post. This was playing out loud on Emma’s set - a bright, upbeat pop track that immediately had Vivienne tapping her fingers along with the rhythm. And then, Emma started to cheer.

“One! Two! One! Two!” Emma sang, each one of her words punctuated by motion: a sway of her hips, a motion of her pom-poms, all perfectly in time with the music. “Emma’s the only one for you!”

Vivienne giggled. It was a perfectly cute, silly little chant for a bimbo like Emma. And, she supposed, it wasn’t far wrong.

“One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!” Emma repeated, still dancing. As she bounced up and down, the way her big, bimbo tits bounced beneath her hopelessly inadequate top was mouth-watering. “One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!”

She kept chanting it, over and over, each word inflected with pure, giddy eagerness. Vivienne was utterly captivated. It was so enchanting to think that this video was just for her. For no one else. As she watched, Emma’s ditzy chant quickly started to worm its way into the CEO’s head. Something about it was infectious. It occupied her attention so completely, she failed to notice the deep, echoey, binaural tones that were slowly creeping into the music.

“One! Two! One! Two! Emma’s the only one for you!” Emma paused briefly to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her forehead was shining with sweat, and she was all the more attractive for it. “Hey, why don’t you, like, chant along with me?”

Vivienne rolled her eyes. She couldn’t imagine herself doing something like that. But all the same, the suggestion made her slip her hand down into her panties. She was already turned on.

“Oh, wait! That would be silly.” Emma giggled. “It would have to be, like…” She started bouncing to the music again. “One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

Vivienne shivered rapturously as she drew a finger across her sensitive lips, and grinned wider than ever. Emma’s new chant, with its energetic triple beat, was quickly proving to be even more of an earworm.

“C’mon!” Emma urged, after a little more cheering. “Give it a try? For your fav little bimbo?”

She made the cutest, poutiest face Vivienne had ever seen, and even the hard-hearted CEO couldn’t bring herself to refuse. In truth, she was already half-murmuring along to the silly little rhyme.

“One, two, three,” Vivienne said out loud, keeping time with Emma as the bimbo started chanting again in the video. “One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me.”

She let out a bashful little laugh. There was nobody around to hear, but all the same, the cheer made her feel self-conscious. It wasn’t all bad, though. When was the last time Vivienne had been able to do something so frivolous?

“Yay!” Emma cried. Vivienne had to remind herself it was just a recording. Clearly, Emma had anticipated her participation. “See? Isn’t this fun?”

As Emma kept cheering - and Vivienne along with her - the CEO was forced to admit that it was. There was something disarmingly simple and joyful about the chant. Already, Vivienne could feel weight being lifted from her shoulders. When she focused her mind on the words, the rhythm, the rhyme, it made it all the easier to forget about the stresses of her daily life.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me.”

Vivienne kept going, and her mood kept brightening. Each word of the little cheer bounced into the next, carried by the tempo of the music, and any brief pause that might have led to stray thoughts was instead occupied with staring at Emma’s gorgeously toned body as the bimbo jumped and pranced for Vivienne’s entertainment.

Vivienne felt something wet on her chin, and realized she was actually drooling over her. That should have been embarrassing, but somehow she was beyond that, struck with a giddy, infectious enthusiasm that left her uninhibited and euphoric about everything.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Emma’s the only one for me!”

Her chanting steadily picked up in volume and enthusiasm. Vivienne was slipping further and further into the right mood for it. More and more, she felt oddly like she was really there with Emma, dancing with her, imitating her. Maybe it was just how close she was holding her phone to her face. She felt like Emma’s bimbo-themed home gym was all around her. Her vision was starting to blur from how focused she was - or was it something on the video, instead? Some kind of compression artifacting that manifested as sweeping, spiraling patterns, prickling in and out of existence around the edges of the frame?

Vivienne wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away and check. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of Emma’s video.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She was so relaxed. Perfectly relaxed. It was blissful. And as Vivienne’s muscles gradually let go of all the tension she’d been carrying around, waves of pleasure and arousal started to course through her body. Between her legs, her pussy, dripping on the bedsheets beneath, demanded more and more attention. Vivienne started moving her fingers faster and faster - stroking her cunt in time with the music, in fact.

It felt incredible. This was exactly the relaxation she had been craving. The pleasure was washing away all her stress. Vivienne longed to sink deeper into it, to luxuriate in it - safe in the knowledge that she was anonymous to Emma. Her fingertips dipped inside her cunt, and her chants turned into moans.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

“You know,” Emma said, dropping her chant. Vivienne kept it going. “Cheering like this makes me feel so, like, happy, y’know?”

Vivienne nodded as if Emma could see her. She was so lost to pleasure, she failed to realize the absurdity of that.

“Just… kinda bubbly and silly and fun!” Emma struck an adorable pose. “Like… I don’t even need to worry about thinking for myself!”

The pose flipped up Emma’s skirt, and Vivienne gasped pleasurably as she saw that Emma was naked beneath the skirt, and dripping down her sculpted thighs.

“It’s just perfect!” Emma exclaimed, giggly. “Totally perfect for a bimbo like me, anyway. Not having to think feels, like, sooooo good.”

Vivienne just nodded again. That sounded just right to her. Still, she was moaning the dumb cheer Emma had given her.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

“It’s so much better this way.” Emma’s hand drifted down, stroking over her midriff, reaching for herself in unmistakable arousal. “No silly worries… no silly cares… I’m wayyy too dumb for that now.”

Once more, Vivienne nodded eagerly and moaned her new mantra. It sounded so good. So blissful. Vivienne could only fantasize about what it might be like to live in such a permanent state of dumb, horny euphoria.

“All I have to do,” Emma half-moaned, half-giggled, “is look hot, and listen to the music, and shake my pretty little ass for my owner!”

It all sounded so right. More and more, as she succumbed to a pleasure-drunk trance, Vivienne felt as though she could hear other things, too. Other lyrics, buried in the music, barely audible, but layered, so that they flowed into her brain without resistance. That should have been a red flag, but her defenses were down. With each beat, Vivienne’s fingers pumped in and out of her needy cunt, driving more and more of her rational thoughts out of her head.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

Vivienne’s voice was filled with more joy and enthusiasm than ever, but she was losing the rhythm as heaving moans robbed her of her breath. Her pleasure was cresting, driven by the merciless pumping of her fingers. When the orgasm hit her, Vivienne screamed and thrashed, but even then she didn’t stop cheering. She couldn’t. The music drove her onward, as did her endless craving for the empty, bimbo bliss Emma’s words suggested. She just kept muttering, over and over, in a ceaseless, mindless drone.

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me! One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me! One, two, three! One, two, three! Emma’s the only one for me!”

She didn’t stop, not even after her orgasm faded. Vivienne even kept touching herself, keeping her pleasure at a roiling boil, driving herself onwards towards the next peak. The music demanded it, and so did Vivienne’s own, insatiable arousal. Nothing had ever felt as good as this. So, she just kept chanting, and touching herself, and working herself even deeper into an eager, compliant trance.

“OK!” Emma announced on the video abruptly, in her giggly, bimbo drawl. “I think that’s enough fanservice from me. But… if you’re really my number one fan, you wanna know what I’d really like you to do?”

Vivienne was just barely conscious enough to nod.

“I want you,” Emma giggled, “to go back to the start of this video, and, like, watch it all over again from the start! M’kay?”

There was no question of doing otherwise. Though her hand was trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, Vivienne managed to use her thumb to scroll all the way back to the start on her phone. At once, it began to play again.

“Hiiii,” the recorded Emma said. “Wow! I just, like, love getting to say hi to my number one fan!”

For hours, until exhausted sleep finally claimed her, Vivienne watched the video over and over again, looping it each time as Emma instructed. Each time, she kept chanting and kept touching herself, conditioning herself to accept all the pleasure Emma’s message offered, bringing herself to orgasm after orgasm, and etching all the subliminal, hypnotic suggestions buried within the video into her brain.

—

I would like to express my gratitude for the generosity of all those who support me on Patreon, and to give a special thanks to the following patrons in particular for their exceptional support:

Artemis, Chloe, Grillfan65, The Secret Subject, Morriel, Dex, orangesya, dmtph, MegatronTarantulas, Madeline, BTYOR, Sarah, Mattilda, Emily Queen of sloths, Neana, Shadows exile, Abigail, Hypnogirl_Stephanie_, Jade, mintyasleep, Michael, Tasteful Ardour, Chris, Dennis, Full Blown Marxism, Morder, S, Brendon, Drone 8315, Jim, Erin, HannahSolaria, hellenberg, Kay, Miss_Praxis, Violet, Noct, Charlotte, Faun, BrinnShea, B, Foridin, Jennifer, EepyTimeTea, Phoenix, Jim, Sebastian, Joseph, Thomas, Liz, naivetynkohan, Basic dev, SuperJellyFrogEx, Katie, Lily, spyrocyndersam13, zzzz, Mal, Bouncyrou, Nimapode, Ash, Artemis, Geckonator, TheRealG, Anonymous, J, GladiusLumin, Ada, Marina, Space Prius, Alex, Michael, Thomas, Dasterin, Djura, Pluto, Daedalus, Joe, Mattilda, Ana, proletkvlt, DOLLICIOUS, Yodasgirl, Allie~, Cusco-, Griffin, Bouncyrou, Hazelpup, Jakitron, Leah, ravenfan, Ash, ferretfyre, Christopher, Alphy D, Latavia, KBZ, Ashe, jlc, Jackson, Elizabeth, noe, Steve, Melo, gynoidpoet, MaeMae2569, Lexi, Thomas, Haggisllama, naughtzero, Alan

Finally, special thanks to Neana for commissioning this story!

#lifestyle journalism #story

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