#narrative hypnosis

[saphig-iawn]

Bondage in Brushstrokes

One of the things I can provide is what I call a narrative hypnosis session. Its a longer trance in which I weave a story in your ears that begins to feel very real.

My subject today wanted one such session and we settled on a wonderfully transformative idea: sealing her inside a painting.

After some gentle fractionation, lulling her up and down, she settled deeply on my lap ready for a little tale.

She's stood before a grand wooden door, the brass of the doorknob warm from the sun in her hand. She felt a knot of nervousness as she turned it, even though the letter I sent her said that she was to just come in with no need to knock.

A wide and bright hallway greeted her, natural light spilling in from every window. The floor was clean and polished white tiles with smaller black tiles nestling at the intersections. A curved staircase winded up and out of sight. The walls were clad in a vibrant dahlia scroll with painted wood panelling at the bottom.

"Come on through, my doll!" my voice calls from the beyond the kitchen at the end of the hallway.

Her shoes echo in the hall as she moves through, and a rustic well-loved kitchen greets her. The smell of fresh baked bread fills her nose, almost lifting her up as if it was a cartoon. There was a wonderful spread of cheeses, fruits, pastries, and meats on the island.

"We'll tuck into that later, my doll, come come." Her fingers snap away from the roll of salami she was about to snack on.

She rounded the door and found herself in a tall domed conservatory. Glass and white painted metal arced above her. It felt like an exhibit at a World's Fair at the turn of the century. Deep verdant plants lined one side, massive monstera leaves bathed in the sun.

I stood up from my stool, wearing green overalls already splashed with paint, a soft, loose blouse underneath it, with a green bandana keeping my dark auburn hair away from my face.

"We're going to have a lot of fun, my doll."

SNAP

Her eyes widened as she began to strip. Her hands worked at the buttons of her dress automatically. She wondered when I wove this spell into her, but before she could finish that thought her clothes were pooled at her feet.

"Good doll, now for the finishing touch, kneel-"

She was knelt. Like she always had been. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt a ribbon grace the back of her neck. Cool and smooth on her skin, she felt it be brought to the front and tied into a bow. I held her chin with my finger and thumb.

"Perfect. Now pose for me darling." She feels her head moved by my finger and thumb and she sees a green chaise lounge. She feels herself walk over to it and recline. The green velvet is smooth to the touch, no matter which way her skin moved over it.

I move to a table behind her, take a hardback book from it and put it in her hand.

"Flick through the pages, see which one feels right to land on. You'll be looking at it for a while" I giggled.

She pressed her thumb in the side of the book and let the pages rustle past. Just before halfway she stops and looks at the page and felt a touch confused. The page was filled with one sentence over and over and over.

"I'm a good doll"

Confused, she goes to say something but finds no words leave her lips. Her eyes widen once more and tried to turn and look at me but her head will not move.

"It always takes you by surprise, doesn't it? But you're a doll, being still is what you're made for."

A warmth blossomed in her chest as those words entered her mind, and she began to embrace the stillness I had woven into her from the first time we had a session.

"You see, my doll, I had everything painted already, I was just missing my subject..."

I trailed off as I began to paint, the sound of the bristles on canvas tickled the air as I began my work painting her feet.

She then began to feel strange. No- not strange... different. Like her feet were being compressed, wrapped in tight bandages.

She was unable to say a thing.

Then the feeling rose, her calves, then thighs, like they were being tightly wrapped and encased.

"You have such pretty legs my doll" I mused, bringing deep blue shadow onto the chaise lounge where her legs rested.

Now she began to feel strange. Like the chaise lounge was pulling her in, like it was being flattened out wrapped around her, the velvet caressing her skin.

But still the feeling rose, a tight encasement creeping up her still form.

She wondered if her eyes had been open too long because the text of the book was becoming so blurry, but then she realised that her eyes were fine. The book had changed. The words now nothing more than close approximations, scattered marks of paint across the page.

But even then, when her eyes drank the facsimiles in, she felt their meaning deep in her body.

I'm a good doll

Soon the feeling was up her arms, her hands seemingly part of the book she was holding. Soon her chest and shoulders became part of her surroundings.

Then she felt the bristles of my brush across her lips.

A single stroke sealed them shut.

She wanted to bite her lip, to moan, to tell me how good she was feeling, but those feelings melted away when I dabbed my brush on the canvas for the last time.

A wave pleasure washed over her from head to toe. Every part of her sang with pleasure her total bondage was complete.

"Now where do I put you..." I wondered aloud.

Like a soft jolt on a car ride while she was happily asleep, she felt a shift as I took her off my easel. Confusion rippled in her painted mind.

She oblivious to the fact that the chaise lounge was now empty.

That the book was gone.

That was she was now nothing but paint on my canvas, encased and sealed.

Everything clicked as she felt an impossible warmth on her cheek. It was like resting her face on a loved one in a cuddle. The warmth moved down her body, across her breasts, down her arms, over her sensitive areas, and down her legs.

She felt so good beneath my fingertip.

"Now... I could put you in the living room, let all the dolls enjoy you knowing you're bound in there. Or I could put you in the bedroom, deliciously restrained from joining in the fun. Or maybe the kitchen so you could watch the dolls go about their day in their cute maid dresses."

I brushed my finger over her sensitive area.

Her whole body pulsed with pleasure. Every part of her connected in her bondage; the perfect conductor for pleasure.

I continue caressing the canvas, knowing the pressure is building in her. That delicious ache growing with every passing second.

She needed to scream. She needed to buck and rut and bite and dig her nails in. But my brushstrokes kept her still, the pleasure building even more.

But the rubbing wasn't stopping, and the pressure kept building, and the climax was coming, and the rubbing wasn't stopping, and the pressure kept building, and the climax was coming, and the climax was coming, and the climax was coming, and the climax was coming!

Her mind flooded with pleasure as she climax. Her painted bondage holding her still as the pleasure stormed across her. There was no part of her that wasn't lost in pleasure.

Her bonds cradled her as the afterglow settled in, easing her muscles, soothing her body, slowing her breath.

"I think I'll put you in the bedroom."

[ottopilot-wrote-this-txt]

A Nudge And A Wink

[ID: Color photo of a pretty young brunette waitress with blue eyes. She is standing, looking at the camera, in a deep hypnotic trance and is staring blankly with her lips parted. This is a mind-control/hypnosis fetish image. The setting is a diner in New York City's Tribeca neighborhood. She is dressed in a white blouse and an apron. The camera angle is from a slightly low point of view as if the photographer was seated in a booth .The shot has shallow depth of field and is shot on a 35mm Nikon camera with FujiFilm film and film grain. The mood is sexy but tasteful. (Stable Diffusion XL prompt)]

"Are you unhappy with your service, Sir?" the restaurant owner asks in a gruff voice. This was a mom-and-pop operation, which I guess would make him Pop, and he was doubtless busy, hence his irritation at being called to my table. My waitress, a pretty brunette whose name tag read "Elizabeth," stood next to him, fidgeting with her order pad.

I dab at my mouth with a paper napkin. "No, the service was great, I just wanted to make a suggestion. If you aren't already doing so, you should pay your wait staff a living wage. And if you're skimming their tips, stop immediately and make restitution."

There's always a brief moment, maybe a split-second, where their brain has heard the words… but hasn't processed how to comply. I'm always worried it's not going to work when I see that confused, sometimes angry, glance, but then it fades into a glassy-eyed stare and an open mouth. Like clockwork.

"Yeah, sure," he says, his voice distant and his free will in another zip code.

"Great. Only one more thing before I let you get back to it, lunch is on the house today, right?"

"Yeah. On the house," he drones, before blinking and heading back to the kitchen.

Elizabeth picks up my utensils and plate with a practiced ease. "Anything else I can get for you today, Sir?"

I lean in, just a little, and lower my voice. "It's Doug. You are… Elizabeth…?"

A warm smile. "Liz. Just Liz."

"Liz. You'd like to have dinner tonight with me tonight. Write down your number and I'll text you my address. You can bring some food—you pick—after your shift, and we'll fuck a couple of times. You'll cum easily and often, and it will be the best sex you've ever had, because you think I'm good-looking and funny."

I look into Liz's gorgeous blue eyes, like tiny wells, blue but deep. I look deeper and deeper, until the light from the diner and the world isn't visible, just darkness. It's like looking directly into her mind and just moving things around a bit, like moving a houseplant into the sill of an open window.

Liz puts the plate down, and pulls a pen from her apron. She scribbles her number onto my check, which I don't have to pay anyway, and hands it to me with a flirty wink. "See you at six. Doug," she says suggestively, turning and sashaying her big ass intentionally as she walks away.

Sliding out of the booth, I put on my coat. I slide a ten under the sugar packet caddy, confident Liz and her co-workers would get their fair share of it, as I walk out into the chilly city streets.

People think being able to control minds at will would be glamorous or sexy. But it fucking sucks, if you ask me.

I don't know how long I've had this power—it just sort of happened one day. Up until then, I'd lived a pretty charmed life, and I thought that was just dumb luck. Now… I'm pretty sure that's not true.

There are a couple rules I learned from trial and error. I don't have to be looking at a person (but it helps), and I do have to be relatively close to them. I can't undo a previous command. And the effects are permanent.

It definitely has its perks, don't get me wrong. I get a lot of stuff comped, like that soup and sandwich, and a lot of pretty women like Liz have sex with me whenever I want. If you think that's neat, it's small potatoes. I'm a writer by trade, but I have millions in the bank. How did it get there? Well, when you live in New York City and have access to the minds of politicians, bankers, and CEOs, the world is your oyster. I've had crazy, wild sex with the world's most beautiful women, sometimes simultaneously. I've thrown out first pitch at Yankee Stadium. I've been the equivalent of white, pudgy Jay-Z.

I wave to a retired teacher I pass once in a while. "Hey Mrs. Garcia! ¿Cómo estás? That's a very pretty hairstyle. You feel confident and beautiful and people who tell you otherwise are wrong." She looks at me blankly before her face lights up in a proud smile.

Anyway, it's isolating. No one will ever understand what it's like to be me, and all my relationships fall into two categories: people I can't trust because I've already mind controlled them, and people I haven't mind controlled yet. I've surrounded myself with yes men before, and that's an empty and unfulfilling life. I also can't trust myself to make new friends or partners and not accidentally, innocuously, alter them. A little slip up like "I think you should wear that dress" and they'll be a different person, forever. And there's always the risk of breakage.

Let me explain. No, wait.

"Hey," I call out to some asshole manhandling his lady friend on the street. "Don't be a dick to women." And to his girlfriend: "If he treats you bad, leave him. If he hits you, you cut his dick off."

OK, now where was I? So here's an example: I naively, stupidly, made a woman fall in love with me. Sounds great! Until you realize what you wanted is someone to love you for you. So I'll just undo it. Nope, doesn't work that way. That woman will be in therapy for years, and it's my fault.

Plus, when you tell a corrupt CEO to come clean to the press, and he tells a reporter about all his trips to Epstein Island… Lemme just say that crashing the world's financial markets will make you take it down a notch.

I learned over time: don't rock the foundation of the world to its core, don't upset the balance of the universe. I like to call them nudges. Just a little suggestion here and there. Some harder than others, but never a push, just a nudge.

Ah, back home. Another fruitless day of ennui for the most powerful man in New York. I throw my keys on the counter and hang my coat on the back of a chair. I flip the TV on and plop onto the couch and sigh.

News, news, sports, infomercial, talk show…oh. Men in Black is on. I've always wanted to see this. I watch while I scroll my phone. It's pretty funny, though it feels like something else I've watched before. Tommy Lee Jones is funnier than I thought. Oh, that's interesting. Huh. Will Smith makes Agent K forget he was Agent K. Then he lives a normal life. Could I do that?? Could I live a normal life?

I rise slowly and think this through. I don't even know if it will work. Nothing could happen, or I could turn my brain into a turnip. I'd ask myself: if I didn't have this power, how did I get rich? I mean, I used to think it was just luck. I can tell myself to think that. Excited, I walk over to the bathroom vanity.

Well, I thought, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"You will forget you can control minds. You will just assume your fortune to this point is the product of charm and good luck."

I stare at the reflection in the mirror, and it stares back at me. And I feel kind of funny, like my brain was a muscle that had fallen asleep, and blood was rushing back into it. Tingly.

Damn. What was I doing?

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Liz, the waitress from the coffee shop on Broadway, is wearing one of my t-shirts and looking at my bookshelf. I guess she liked me more than I thought, she practically threw herself at me when I opened the door. Helluva first date, I thought, as I microwaved the food she brought.

Liz reads off some of the titles. "Total Recall, Men in Black, The Matrix, Memento…" She pulls a DVD box off the shelf. "Oh, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind! I haven't seen this in years, it's such a good movie."

I shrug as I plate the food. "I've never seen it, I don't even remember buying it."

"Really? The case is pretty worn. Maybe you got it used."

I furrow my brow. Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing any of those movies. I must have got a good deal.

I pull out at chair for her, then stick my head in the fridge. "Maybe. What would you like to drink? I have Diet Coke, uhh… Diet Coke. And water."

Liz smiles, "Water is fine, I don't like fizzy drinks."

"That's too bad. Because I do have some syrups and club soda, so I could make an Italian soda. I think you would like an Italian soda if you've never had one."

I hear the sound of a fork hitting the china plate, and I turn. Liz's full lips part slightly. Her big blue eyes go glassy, her breath hitching before she exhales, long and slow. My Wu-Tang tee slips off one bare shoulder as she slackens and sinks, her expression melting like warm butter.

"I like Italian soda," she drones in a monotone voice.

Wait. What the fuck just happened here?

[ottopilot-wrote-this]

A Nudge And A Wink

This image is AI generated, I couldn't find a royalty-free source photo I liked. Don't like AI? Cross-posted to @ottopilot-wrote-this-txt without it.

"Are you unhappy with your service, Sir?" the restaurant owner asks in a gruff voice. This was a mom-and-pop operation, which I guess would make him Pop, and he was doubtless busy, hence his irritation at being called to my table. My waitress, a pretty brunette whose name tag read "Elizabeth," stood next to him, fidgeting with her order pad.

I dab at my mouth with a paper napkin. "No, the service was great, I just wanted to make a suggestion. If you aren't already doing so, you should pay your wait staff a living wage. And if you're skimming their tips, stop immediately and make restitution."

There's always a brief moment, maybe a split-second, where their brain has heard the words… but hasn't processed how to comply. I'm always worried it's not going to work when I see that confused, sometimes angry, glance, but then it fades into a glassy-eyed stare and an open mouth. Like clockwork.

"Yeah, sure," he says, his voice distant and his free will in another zip code.

"Great. Only one more thing before I let you get back to it, lunch is on the house today, right?"

"Yeah. On the house," he drones, before blinking and heading back to the kitchen.

Elizabeth picks up my utensils and plate with a practiced ease. "Anything else I can get for you today, Sir?"

I lean in, just a little, and lower my voice. "It's Doug. You are… Elizabeth…?"

A warm smile. "Liz. Just Liz."

"Liz. You'd like to have dinner tonight with me tonight. Write down your number and I'll text you my address. You can bring some food—you pick—after your shift, and we'll fuck a couple of times. You'll cum easily and often, and it will be the best sex you've ever had, because you think I'm good-looking and funny."

I look into Liz's gorgeous blue eyes, like tiny wells, blue but deep. I look deeper and deeper, until the light from the diner and the world isn't visible, just darkness. It's like looking directly into her mind and just moving things around a bit, like moving a houseplant into the sill of an open window.

Liz puts the plate down, and pulls a pen from her apron. She scribbles her number onto my check, which I don't have to pay anyway, and hands it to me with a flirty wink. "See you at six. Doug," she says suggestively, turning and sashaying her big ass intentionally as she walks away.

Sliding out of the booth, I put on my coat. I slide a ten under the sugar packet caddy, confident Liz and her co-workers would get their fair share of it, as I walk out into the chilly city streets.

People think being able to control minds at will would be glamorous or sexy. But it fucking sucks, if you ask me.

I don't know how long I've had this power—it just sort of happened one day. Up until then, I'd lived a pretty charmed life, and I thought that was just dumb luck. Now… I'm pretty sure that's not true.

There are a couple rules I learned from trial and error. I don't have to be looking at a person (but it helps), and I do have to be relatively close to them. I can't undo a previous command. And the effects are permanent.

It definitely has its perks, don't get me wrong. I get a lot of stuff comped, like that soup and sandwich, and a lot of pretty women like Liz have sex with me whenever I want. If you think that's neat, it's small potatoes. I'm a writer by trade, but I have millions in the bank. How did it get there? Well, when you live in New York City and have access to the minds of politicians, bankers, and CEOs, the world is your oyster. I've had crazy, wild sex with the world's most beautiful women, sometimes simultaneously. I've thrown out first pitch at Yankee Stadium. I've been the equivalent of white, pudgy Jay-Z.

I wave to a retired teacher I pass once in a while. "Hey Mrs. Garcia! ¿Cómo estás? That's a very pretty hairstyle. You feel confident and beautiful and people who tell you otherwise are wrong." She looks at me blankly before her face lights up in a proud smile.

Anyway, it's isolating. No one will ever understand what it's like to be me, and all my relationships fall into two categories: people I can't trust because I've already mind controlled them, and people I haven't mind controlled yet. I've surrounded myself with yes men before, and that's an empty and unfulfilling life. I also can't trust myself to make new friends or partners and not accidentally, innocuously, alter them. A little slip up like "I think you should wear that dress" and they'll be a different person, forever. And there's always the risk of breakage.

Let me explain. No, wait.

"Hey," I call out to some asshole manhandling his lady friend on the street. "Don't be a dick to women." And to his girlfriend: "If he treats you bad, leave him. If he hits you, you cut his dick off."

OK, now where was I? So here's an example: I naively, stupidly, made a woman fall in love with me. Sounds great! Until you realize what you wanted is someone to love you for you. So I'll just undo it. Nope, doesn't work that way. That woman will be in therapy for years, and it's my fault.

Plus, when you tell a corrupt CEO to come clean to the press, and he tells a reporter about all his trips to Epstein Island… Lemme just say that crashing the world's financial markets will make you take it down a notch.

I learned over time: don't rock the foundation of the world to its core, don't upset the balance of the universe. I like to call them nudges. Just a little suggestion here and there. Some harder than others, but never a push, just a nudge.

Ah, back home. Another fruitless day of ennui for the most powerful man in New York. I throw my keys on the counter and hang my coat on the back of a chair. I flip the TV on and plop onto the couch and sigh.

News, news, sports, infomercial, talk show…oh. Men in Black is on. I've always wanted to see this. I watch while I scroll my phone. It's pretty funny, though it feels like something else I've watched before. Tommy Lee Jones is funnier than I thought. Oh, that's interesting. Huh. Will Smith makes Agent K forget he was Agent K. Then he lives a normal life. Could I do that?? Could I live a normal life?

I rise slowly and think this through. I don't even know if it will work. Nothing could happen, or I could turn my brain into a turnip. I'd ask myself: if I didn't have this power, how did I get rich? I mean, I used to think it was just luck. I can tell myself to think that. Excited, I walk over to the bathroom vanity.

Well, I thought, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

"You will forget you can control minds. You will just assume your fortune to this point is the product of charm and good luck."

I stare at the reflection in the mirror, and it stares back at me. And I feel kind of funny, like my brain was a muscle that had fallen asleep, and blood was rushing back into it. Tingly.

Damn. What was I doing?

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Liz, the waitress from the coffee shop on Broadway, is wearing one of my t-shirts and looking at my bookshelf. I guess she liked me more than I thought, she practically threw herself at me when I opened the door. Helluva first date, I thought, as I microwaved the food she brought.

Liz reads off some of the titles. "Total Recall, Men in Black, The Matrix, Memento…" She pulls a DVD box off the shelf. "Oh, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind! I haven't seen this in years, it's such a good movie."

I shrug as I plate the food. "I've never seen it, I don't even remember buying it."

"Really? The case is pretty worn. Maybe you got it used."

I furrow my brow. Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing any of those movies. I must have got a good deal.

I pull out at chair for her, then stick my head in the fridge. "Maybe. What would you like to drink? I have Diet Coke, uhh… Diet Coke. And water."

Liz smiles, "Water is fine, I don't like fizzy drinks."

"That's too bad. Because I do have some syrups and club soda, so I could make an Italian soda. I think you would like an Italian soda if you've never had one."

I hear the sound of a fork hitting the china plate, and I turn. Liz's full lips part slightly. Her big blue eyes go glassy, her breath hitching before she exhales, long and slow. My Wu-Tang tee slips off one bare shoulder as she slackens and sinks, her expression melting like warm butter.

"I like Italian soda," she drones in a monotone voice.

Wait. What the fuck just happened here?

[total-drama-brainrot]

"It's okay, little buddy. Hypnosis isn't scary. Al had hypnotized me before and I'm alright!" Owen happily said to Noah. "I think you should let Al help you conquer your fear. I'll be right beside you, so nothing embarrassing will happen to you, I promise."

Noah hesitated, looking at Alejandro with a mixture of fear and suspicion. The other contestants, sensing the tension, nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, man. We'll all be here with you. You're not going to be alone." Tyler said.

Finally, Noah relented, feeling the pressure of his peers. "Alright, fine. But you better keep your word."

Alejandro grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Of course, Noah. You have my word."

Alejandro began to swing his necklace back and forth in front of Noah's face, the hypnotic movement calming his nerves. "Look at the pendant, Noah. Watch it go back and forth, back and forth. You're feeling more relaxed already, aren't you?"

Noah's eyes followed the pendant, mesmerized despite his best efforts to resist. "Yeah… it's… calming…" he muttered.

Alejandro smiled, his voice steady and soothing. "That's right, Noah. You're feeling very calm and relaxed right now. Your fears are beginning to fade away. You're starting to trust me. When I count to three and snap my fingers, you're going to fall asleep. One… Two... Three."

As Alejandro snapped his fingers, Noah's body relaxed completely, and his breathing deepened as he slipped into a deep sleep. Noah had a peaceful smile on his sleeping face. The other contestants watched with bated breath.

"Sleep well, mi amgio... He's going to need his rest now," whispered Alejandro. "But don't worry, I'll make sure that he's safe."

Most of the contestants nodded and walked out of the room.

Owen however hesitated. "... But I promised Noah that I would be right beside him when he wakes up."

"And you are a wonderful friend for doing that, but if you say or do something that wakes Noah up, it might reverse my work." Alejandro lies, looking at Owen with false patience.

Owen nervously looks at the sleeping Noah, then he sighs. "Okay then... If you say so, Al... I trust you."

Why does Owen feel like he's making a mistake?

As Owen left, Alejandro remained behind, standing over Noah. The Hypnotist whispered softly in Noah's ear, his voice like silk, "You're going to be so useful to me, Noah. You're going to help me achieve great things. You understand that, don't you?"

Noah's eyes still remained closed, but then he nodded slightly.

"Good boy. Now, let's put some more ambition in your mind, shall we?" 😈

anon, you can't just post an au fic of an au fic in my inbox and NOT expect me to go feral.

10/10, please post to ao3 so i can give you kudos. 👏

[ecstaticasusual]

Honobono & Miden the mute Amemura

[udayg]

Worlds of Fiction

How Narrative Shapes Culture We live in a fictional world — a world constructed out of fictions, based on fictions and immersed in fictions. How, then, can we determine what reality is? Perception and Narrative The human brain constructs narratives as a means to understand the “reality” it perceives through the senses. The assumption underlying the creation of any narrative, though, is that…

[babisawyer]

I don't know why the exorcist 2 pissed people off so badly that was your average italian horror film.

[antimony-medusa]

But what do you MEAN this fic where blorbo gets mind controlled might be kinky?

So I am kind of famous for saying that this fandom has a lot of untagged kinks and I get people in my notes pretty regularly going YES I"M BEGGING YOU TAG IT or YOU"RE DERANGED THIS IS PLATONIC, etc. Lots of strong emotions. But I also get people who are going uh, I knew something was going on, but I couldn't really identify it— what do you mean exactly? What kinks are you seeing?

So, this post is breaking down things I've seen and how in some cases, they start to cross the line into kink territory. These are all things that were being done platonically— no dicks were out, everybody's clothes were on (in most cases, not always with the dehumanization tropes)— but the focus of the narrative started to place special weight on specific features, experiences, or concepts— there were extended paragraphs that served no narrative purpose except to dwell on something— in a way that I started to go "the point of this fic is the squiggly feeling the author or reader gets on reading about this specific setup— this is getting kinky". And that is fine, I am not placing any moral weight on engaging in kinks— people just get wired sometimes to really like the concept of bondage— but a) sometimes it would be nice to get a heads up as a reader, b) if you like these things— there are tags out there that are FULL of this concept, you might like to do it or search it out on purpose.

So I asked some friends what things have they found in platonic fics that they went "ah. yeah. something is happening here", and this post is the result. A lot of these things don't exist in the real world or people don't necessarily want them to happen in the real world/to them, so it's understandable that a person can miss how they'd started to morph and become something new. But when we talk about kink in fiction we're often talking about things that either can't or we don't want to happen in real life, it's just that reading about them/writing them scratches our brain.

And also, to be clear, in no way do I mean that if you've written these concepts then you definitely have been writing kink. There are vanilla ways to do all of these concepts, and sometimes the idea of dehumanization is interesting to you from a narrative standpoint, for example. You can also engage with them in a non-sexual way— many ace people are very kinky— so I'm not saying that you've secretly been writing porn OR writing something you have a real desire to happen to you. Just to make that clear. However, if you keep coming back to a specific setup for writing or reading, it might be worth investigating if certain things scratch your brain in a specific way.

So.

Blorbo gets mind controlled and there's a detailed breakdown of their descent into this altered state and then they're just so biddable and out of it and vulnerable and the narrative places weight either on someone taking advantage of them in this state, taking care of them, or their own subjective experience having lost control: this is hypnokink. Hypnokink or mind control— lots of ways to do it, but there is a thriving hypnosis or hypnokink scene that you might want to look into. Sometimes this is played for horror, but even the horror stuff can be kinky if played in a certain way. This falls under a larger umbrella of "altered states" that is very popular.

Blorbo gets drugged/intoxicated, often against their will, and heavy narrative weight is placed on their experience while drunk/drugged and unable to control themselves or conceptualize what is happening: this is intox kink. Another altered state— and again this is sometimes used for horror, but even the horror can give you the special tinglies if the dread is mixed with something.

Blorbo is turned into a vampire or taken by a vampire, gets drunk from or drinks blood, and there's specific narrative focus on how good the blood tastes, blood from a wound trickling down over someone's body and maybe being licked up, a hunger being sated— so vampires are a longstanding trope that can be done in a strictly horror way, but a LOT of vampire tropes are deeply kinky along the ideas of possession, loss of bodily autonomy, fear/desire, and consumption. This, for example, I have definitely read dipping into bloodplay or consumption kink. Sometimes blood drinking scenes are directly metaphorical for sex, including narrative tension building to a release where someone feels so good, but also there are other elements, such as a focus on blood that gets kinky.

Blorbo has wings that get preened, and it feels so good they can't hold back instinctive movements and sounds (maybe bird sounds) and they're so grateful and bond so much with the person doing it with them— This is wing kink. This is actually the first trope in this fandom that I identified that some things were happening with, because I was reading these fics that had been recommended to me as family fluff going— am I crazy or is something else happening here? Wingfic has been broadly used as a platonic/familial trope in this fandom, however, the structure of the scenes in which it is written about sometimes has heavy crossover with wingfic in other fandoms, where they are using it as a smut trope— the fic just didn't have anyone literally orgasm at the end. But if there's involuntary sounds or movement from the person with the wings, a focus on how pleasurable it feels, a feeling of release or rightness that someone gives the person with wings, and then they cuddle afterwards— yeah.

Blorbo is terrified and chased by a monster of some kind, with a heavy focus on how frightened they are, how inexorable the monster is, and something bad going to happen, and/or the monster chasing them enjoying their terror— this can just be horror. OR it can be fear play or predator/prey. Sometimes it's both.

Blorbo is confronted by monsters (perhaps giants or aliens) who are much bigger than them and the threat of being eaten by them is narratively focused on, either bitten or swallowed whole. Sometimes in the narrative the eating happens, either safely or to their death— this is vore. Being eaten alive is also a horror trope so it isn't always vore, but it is sometimes most certainly vore.

Aliens or monsters/hybrids much bigger than blorbo have them as family/friends/romantic partners/captives: this is giant/tiny. Sometimes just a science fiction au but if there's a lot of weight being placed on how big they are and how small blorbo is, this could be g/t. Borrower aus can frequently start to fall into this category. If they're not THAT big but there's focus on things like "oh they can span my waist with one hand", this can be size kink, instead. (Note that to my knowledge the platonic version is giant/tiny and sexual is micro/macro— there's a thriving platonic scene I sometimes see when I'm cruising tags, so if you like this you might want to check that out.)

Blorbo is non-consensually touched, cuddled, or modified, and narrative focus is placed on this as a violation/outrage/loss of bodily autonomy: again, this is something that can just be a horror trope, but there is often a larger or smaller strain of consent issues in it. If blorbo doesn't want it at first but eventually feels at home in the nest and feels good, that's dubcon (dubious consent), and if they are fighting it and raging against it and will never be part of your family, that starts to overlap with noncon (non-consent). Blorbo's bodily autonomy is being non-consentually violated, which would put it under the consent issues umbrella. I think many people writing these tropes are simply focusing on captivity and bad things happening to blorbo— when one is a prisoner they automatically lose bodily autonomy, and I don't think that every fic set in a dungeon requires a consent issues tag— and additionally many people are writing from family settings that include bodily autonomy being violated (being forced to hug your aunt you don't want to hug, for example, is an example that many of us have experienced). Not every example of non-consensual touching is always consent issues. However, when the narrative focus is on the outrage and betrayal of it all, the loss of control, and/or the helplessness, this can start to serve a different narrative function in a story than simply illustrating that a family is touchy. I have read scenes that structurally function as a thinly-veiled metaphor for sexual assault, including things like blorbo being held down while they fight against what is being done to their body. Some of these could have used additional tagging. Note: because this is such a hot button topic I should mention that if you like writing or reading this I do not think that means you are a fan of violence happening in the real world— a) reading a bad thing happening on the page makes it containable and controllable in a way that the real world does not, people also like to read about murder and dismemberment— b) simply the presence of a happy ending tag on a fic contextualizes that the bad thing is something to be passed through in a way that again, the real world does not offer. This is a similar thing to torture, suicide, or slavery, where sometimes you want to see blorbo have a bad fictional time specifically in things that would be terrible in real life, and in your real life you do not condone police brutality or want these things to happen. Again, sometimes people like to read about people being eaten alive, and it does not mean they condone wolves on the streets.

Blorbo is captured by alien/fae and kept as a pet, sometimes kept in a cage or collared, unable to communicate with the people holding them: this is often tagged as dehumanization and it is that, but it also starts to contain elements of pet play. If there is an emphasis on having to eat pet food, be "trained" by their owner, leashing/collaring/crating— this may be pet play.

Adult or near-adult blorbo is adopted and take care of by a new dad who knows everything to keep them safe and loves them and can take care of them and they can just let go and be their new sonboy because Dad's got them: Right. So this is sometimes just someone writing a "wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of" fantasy. Sometimes this is Daddy kink. This is almost never tagged and in some cases that I have read it certainly deserves an additional tag. An adult Daddy or Mommy figure taking care of their adult Little who can just be taken care of and not worry is a d/s trope. In some cases, where you have an established adult with a job who gets taken by magical means who then finds their true home as a powerful being's new child where they don't have to worry about their former life and they mentally find comfort in their new role as sonboy, this may also be Caregiver/Little. Direct age regression (often written by people who experience it) is usually tagged appropriately, but narrative elements that nod to that while not actually being age regression, such as an adult being now treated as a child and the narrative presenting that as good, are remarkably common and often entirely untagged in certain tags/circles. If someone could look at your fic and expect adult peers and then this happens, you should consider tagging or phrasing your summary differently.

Blorbo has hybrid instincts that overcome their cognitive functioning and make them revert to an instinctive form such that they can only be calmed/soothed by another hybrid of a different type: now this at this point is basically its own trope and I am fascinated to see if this trope expands out of MCYT as people move to new fandoms. However, it shares a startling amount of overlap with omegaverse. One of the primary draws of omegaverse for many people is the biologically determined altered states and the fated-mates aspect, and hybrids reverting to instincts and needing particular care from a perfect family is often beat for beat things I've read in omegaverse, just platonic. When you have a biologically determined "protector" figure and a biologically determined "runt" whose job is to be taken care of and to submit to the protector, and this is required to calm the protector, it also has strong overlap with BDSM aus.

Blorbo is captured or contained and tied up, and narrative emphasis is placed on their experience of being bound and struggling against restraints or just how impossible to escape from the restraints are: this is bondage. I have had friends who are into this mention that they used to tie up their barbies as children, so again, as with all of these, this can be perfectly platonic— but something about that concept just seems particularly satisfying to the writer, perhaps it is more than just set dressing.

Blorbo is captured and there is strong emphasis on them being hurt or the waves of pain rolling over them as they are tortured: this is just an honourable whump trope, but a lot of whump tropes if handled in a specific way have strong crossover with BDSM. Lack of ability to move or restriction of senses, loss of control— or, as with this, an emphasis on pain or inflicting pain, which can cover sadism or masochism depending on our POV.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and only finds comfort in submitting to the authority of someone who they completely trust, whether because of past trauma or because of hybrid instincts: this is d/s, or domination/submission. If there's specific emphasis on allowing someone to take control finally makes blorbo's head go quiet, that's subspace.

Blorbo is marked or indicated as belonging to someone, either through something like an earring or a brand/tattoo or a magical mark, so that anyone who looks at them will know that they belong to someone: again, this can just be horror, but especially if it's framed as a good/satisfying thing, it also can contain strong crossover with BDSM, especially master/slave elements.

Blorbo is transformed and corrupted, often being bodily changed into a new form by aliens or fae or mobs: this is obviously body horror, but this can also be transformation kink. This is a narrative trope in SF and horror so someone can approach this completely innocently, but when handled in less of a horror way, it can take on other undertones. If there is a strong emphasis on the innocence and unprepared nature of blorbo before being changed into what someone wants them to be, this can be corruption kink as well.

Blorbo dresses up for a fancy event and there's emphasis on how specifically they look, or maybe blorbo is looking at someone else and thinking about how THEY look in their formalwear: sometimes this is just description and/or the author likes textiles. I have also read things where I think the author would get a lot of joy out of pursuing the formalwear kink tag.

Blorbo finally gets told that they did a good job and everyone is complimentary or a specific trusted figure is complimentary, they're appreciated and loved and good: sometimes this is just someone writing a fantasy of blorbo being appreciated. Sometimes this is praise kink. If blorbo is being held by their parent or mentor or trusted elder sibling who is telling them that they're good, everyone is wrong about them, they know that they're good, this could be praise kink.

Touch-starved blorbo finally is given good touch and they are overwhelmed and don't know how to handle it and it feels so good: I did even know this was a thing until I asked for examples, but a friend let me know that this falls under the "touch sensitive" or "sensation play" umbrella. If you have spent time in a touch-starved tag, you have almost definitely seen this.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and bursts into tears and either cries a lot or heavy narrative weight is placed on them crying at important moments when it all becomes too much: this is not always, but can certainly be, dacryphilia.

Blorbo fucks up and is made fun of by all their peers, placed on centre stage and just mercilessly mocked: sometimes you are just whumping the character, and sometimes this can be humiliation kink.

Blorbo is tickled. That's the whole scene/fic. Okay so you actually may know this if you cruise character tags, but tickling is a kink and there are several blogs devoted to it on this website. If the whole point of this scene is the tickling, the character losing control and being overwhelmed, the person doing it to them having them at their control— this may be the kink.

Blorbo just keeps sneezing at inopportune times, they keep losing control and can't keep themselves from being overwhelmed by this: this can be sneeze kink.

Blorbo has finally made it to safety, maybe after a time of privation and starvation, and then there's whole scenes with an emphasis on how much they eat, how full and round they're getting, maybe them eating to the point of getting sick, maybe burping, maybe them having difficulty moving because of how much they've eaten. Food as part of recovery or safety can just be a healing trope, and food as a metaphor for love and community is a favoured tag of many of us in the fandom, but if the emphasis is especially on the eating and the getting full, how full the person feels, how much they can eat— this could be feederism.

Blorbo is injured or killed and there's a huge emphasis on the wounds, dismemberment, focus on gore and how bad it is and how much they're coming to pieces: this can be guro. If the person dies at the end of it and there's emphasis on that, this can also be snuff. Or maybe it's just gore/MCD, but some fics and some scenes dwell on it in such a way that you start to ask if this is intended to be horror or if something else is happening.

Blorbo is dressed up beautifully and looks so good in their new outfit, maybe to the point that the person who dressed them doesn't want them to move, just sit and be admired: this can be dollification, or kinking specifically on being dressed.

Blorbo is going through a medical examination and specific focus is placed on the impersonal aspect, being manhandled or examined by tools or gloved hands, they are the somewhat-dehumanized medical subject of professionals: this is sometimes horror or dehumanization, but it can also be medical kink.

Blorbo and blorbo's friend are ride or die beyond reason, they're a crew, they're found family (not biological), there is Two Of Them (or Five Of Them), they have each other's backs to the end. So loyalty is just a great character beat to hit that people have visited since time immemorial. You can also loyalty kink, when a person refusing to abandon their person(s) just hits just right. I'm not saying that everything under the found family umbrella falls under this, cause it doesn't, but if you have a particular attachment to works tagged [blorbo] & [blorbo] are best friends, or Loyalty, or crew as family, or [blorbo group] is a family but exploring nuclear-family aspects of this is not what makes a fic light up neon in your mind, it might might be worth considering if this is something you'd want to add to your list of likes.

Blorbo is really good at their job, and either respected for it and save the day with their skills or underestimated and show everybody by having the perfect skill at the right moment. More people are tangentially aware of this because of the TV show Leverage, which popularized the concept of "competence porn", or "non-sexual examples of scenes of people being very very good at their job but just makes you oooooo nice job", but if part of what draws you to a character is their niche skillset, or you enjoy stories that turn on characters being masters of their skills, competence kink might be something that resonates with you. Note, this sometimes just overlaps with power fantasies, because not everything in the BAMF [blorbo], tag is focused on competence per say, but if you really love your fave character being skillful, (or alternately, fics in which they are rendered powerless or pathetic tend to grate on you), you might want to explore the competence kink tag.

Blorbo is captured or pinned and rendered unable to breathe, and there is focus on pressure building in their chest, only being able to gasp for sips of air, or the person choking them having power over them, and this is presented as a narrative climax of a scene. This is choking kink, or breathplay. Also can be noted when there is particular narrative fascination with a character's hand at or on another's neck, even if pressure is not being applied.

Blorbo enters the narrative as a dude and is turned into a woman or treated as a woman, whether willingly or unwillingly, and finds this to be either a positive or negative experience. So this is sometimes a gender exploration that is deeply personal to the creator. Sometimes this is forcefem, or forced feminization. Sometimes it's both—exploring that tension between different gender paths can be both emotionally fulfilling and kinky for someone, and that's fine. And again, this can be played for horror or euphoria, but both aspects, if treated a certain way, can be kinky. This is related to a whole family of gender play concepts— for example if dude!blorbo is just dressed in traditionally feminine clothing but is not treated as a woman either by characters or the narrative, it could be crossdressing. If blorbo is a woman being turned into a man, it could be forcemasc. I want to emphasize again that breaking down gender lines is often something someone embarks on for their own gender reasons— AND it's a popular trope across many forms of media— so it's not always a kink. But it's useful to point this one out both because if you bring it up outside of circles where it's normalized, it may not be viewed as appropriate, because these are not the bog-standard ways that everyone approaches gender, presentation, identity, societal expectations, etc, and also because if someone out of the blue asks you for this trope, it's good to be aware that they might be, (whether knowingly or unknowingly), asking for fetish content.

__

So. As you can see. There are a lot of possible kinks that can be handled in a platonic way, but this doesn't mean they aren't kinky. This isn't even everything possible, this is just what came up when I asked the group chat what they personally have seen where they feel that a platonic fic could have used additional tagging.

I am not saying that any of this is wrong to be interested in these kinks, either. People get wired a lot of different ways and sometimes you just feel a certain way about formalwear. Or bondage. Or vore. Or tickling. My point is just that if any of this resonates with you, you might want to consider adding extra tags to your work (you don't even have to tag "humiliation kink," "humiliation" works just fine), and you also might want to consider checking out some tags, because there is probably a vibrant community of people who also like that and who would both love your work and would love to share their work with you.

That's it. Go with god. Now if people are going to be in my notes going HOW CAN SOMETHING PLATONIC BE KINKY I have something to link them.

[saphig-iawn]

Made to Play, Forced to Watch

My weekend plan for this doll was set, we were to have a narrative hypnosis session.

I adore these sessions because it not only involves incredibly deep and long form hypnosis, but it treats my subject to an experience unlike anything else.

The last time I had this doll for a narrative session, I sealed her inside a painting, and hung that painting in my bedroom so she could observe the little things I'd get up to in there.

Well, the thought of being on display but completely unable to partake consumed this doll. The whole week fed this fantasy and it grew into something that she just needed to feel.

So, after some gentle fractionation, bringing her down so softly on my lap, she found herself in front of those tall wooden doors.

She knocked, that familiar tremble in her hands. A tremble that knew it was on the cusp on something powerful.

The doors opened on their own, unveiling the grand hallway she had visited before, the warm light of the rustic kitchen aglow at its end.

Then she heard the sound of footsteps coming from the spiral staircase.

A hand gently glided down the bannister, emerald green nails caught the sun spilling in from the skylights.

I came into view. A long satin robe graced the steps, its hems lined with feathers. It was open, revealing a deep green corset, adorned with bows and lace. Stockings and suspenders completed the look.

She felt her heart beating faster.

I alighted the stairs and approached her, my dark auburn hair cascading down my shoulders.

She could feel herself slipping into my eyes, but the feeling my hands taking hers grounded her, like a puppet's strings going taut.

Tacitly, I gently pulled at her hands to bring her with me upstairs.

She was speechless, completely lost in being guided. Her mind was racing but her thoughts were raw. No words could describe the maelstrom that was raging inside her.

We moved into the bedroom, an intimately dark space that felt like it hugged very curve of her, like everything inside those four walls was designed to heighten her senses.

I positioned her in front of the grand poster bed, and with a gentle press at the centre of her chest she sat on the edge of the bed.

Instinctively, she pooled her hands in her lap, but a snap of my fingers caused them stir.

A rubber clad woman walks in. Her posture is straight, her movements are deliberate, like a finely tuned clockwork doll.

She moves swiftly to bed and pulls my doll back in recline, as I mount my doll.

The gasp that escapes her lips is caught by a rubber hand and returned to her lips as the rubber woman restrains my doll.

With meticulous efficiency, I undressed my doll, savouring how she squirmed beneath me.

Then I began to rub and stroke her. Her rubber gag turned her moans into sweet music.

She could feel that ache building, that sweet pressure swelling, but then it... plateaued. It felt restrained, confined, like a balloon trying to expand in someone's grip.

She rutted against my hand nonetheless, her eyes rolling back, and that was when she saw a grand mirror suspended from the ceiling.

Her rutting stopped as it finally clicked in her mind why her pleasure was been toyed with.

Underneath my hand was no longer her sweet dolly parts, but a rubber null bulge, the reflection of the room was warped beneath my hand.

That was when she felt a kiss.

My face took up her whole vision, my green lipstick glistened in the warm light.

There was a danger in my eyes.

Her lips began to tingle.

She watched as the her in the reflection's lips began to glisten, and then shine with gloss, as my lipstick began to spread. Soon her lips were so sensitive as her mouth began to shift into a pleasurable rubber cocksleeve. She tried so hard to utter a sound but only deep moans came out.

The rubber woman restraining her plunged her fingers into the doll's mouth. She began to suck on them like that was the only thing she was made to do.

Her mind was on fire. She was questioning everything, pleading why this was happening to suddenly, why she felt compelled to, why it felt so good.

Another finger snap split the soundscape of the room, and the rubber woman removed herself from the bed, keeping her fingers in the rubberising doll's mouth.

She began padding at her plump latex lips, seeing if it was a dream. The latex felt so smooth, so good.

Her fingers began to tingle.

They began to glisten.

They began to shine with gloss.

Her skin was becoming alive with pleasure, and she just couldn't help but run her fingers over her body.

The rubber spread even more.

Slowly her legs began to straighten out and part. Her fingers gently pulled together, as her elbows began to bend into position.

Her thoughts began to rubberise too. Soon her own name became lost to the latex, thinking herself as only Doll. The focus of her thoughts changed from analysing the changes and trying to reconcile with the magic talking hold to wonder why Owner wasn't using her, why Owner was playing with her, where Owner was, why was Owner using her.

Soon she could do nothing but moan through her open rubber mouth, and stare at her immobile new form in the suspended mirror.

The room began to move and spin around her, as a gentle pressure gained purchase on her hips.

She was being moved.

Her mind was still trying to call out to Owner, trying to plead.

Only moans came from her hole.

She found herself now facing the bed, the rubber woman stood to attention in front of her.

The new blow-up doll lit up in delight at seeing Owner.

She hoped Owner was finally going to play with her.

But then her pleading blossomed with a deep yearning as I began to explore the rubber woman in front her. Tracing her curves, and savouring every part of her.

Doll moaned in protest as I made my move.

I rubbed my hand across the rubber woman's mouth, sealing it in more latex. Her eyes widened and she began to moan with twinned arousal and trepidation. I smoothed her arms into her sides and firmly began to shape her. Each pass over her body made her moans deeper but ever so quieter

Her figure became a suggestion of her former body. Her features vague in their femininity.

All the Doll could do was watch as the new rubber cock, quietly moaning and still, was delicately picked up and gently inserted into myself. The Doll was screaming inside her rubber head, begging Owner to use her instead, to use the new toy on her too, she wanted it, she needed it. Hearing the quiet moans of the rubber toy disappear inside me drove her even wilder.

But she couldn't do a thing about it. Just sit, and watch, and listen. Her rubber nullge aching, her inflated breasts yearning to be groped.

I used that new rubber cock in its entirety, letting every curve of her feel me and my pleasure. I could feel her moans like a gentle vibration.

My moans heightened, my bucking and rutting picked up, and the frozen expression of lust on the Doll's face was bringing me closer and closer to climax.

Doll could tell, but her mind was being ever more consumed by the rubber. All she could think was of Owner, she was barely begging any more, just voicing simple pleas into the void of her rubber mind over and over: Owner fuck Doll... Owner fuck Doll... Owner fuck Doll...

Her mind sparked back into life as my load graced her glossy body. The yearning and begging trembled into existence like a rising chorus.

I snapped my fingers, and outside of the Doll's vision, another rubber woman enters the bedroom holding a velvet cushion.

I retrieve the toy and delicately place her on the cushion. Trained ears would've been able to hear gentle breathing and whimpering.

Doll's ears were full of her own lust.

With a grin, I glided over to my Doll and gripped her nullge in my hand.

Like a wind-up toy, her mind began to rattle through the very few phrases still left in her mind; phrases drenched in rubber and lust.

In an instant she could feel a climax building, how she was finally being used by Owner.

And then she felt a sagging. A pull. An inexorable folding inwards, little by little.

If she was able to look down she would've seen my eyes ablaze with mischief as I had just undone her air valve.

The throes of her pleasure began to stretch, achingly so. The rushing air slowing her thoughts, making each grope of her nullge feel like a plunge of a hand into molasses.

But the pleasure kept building. I kept rubbing and groping and using my rubber Doll as her form slowly deflated in my grasp. I could feel her climax getting closer and closer.

Doll was still near the beginning, as the pleasure continued to distort and bend in her perception, her pleasure separating like chromatic abberation and recompiling.

She was both so close to orgasm but also so far. She was caught and spread across the timeline of her climax, feeling it all, yet to feel it, already felt it.

Then, as the last bit of air left her rubber body, her pleasure recomplied one last time, culminating in a unified, all body orgasm.

But there was no movement.

No gasps.

No moans.

She was just limp, spent rubber.

Ablaze with pleasure but helpless to do anything about it.

I wanted something for her to remember this by when she woke up so I didn't even wipe her down before folding her back up and slipping her into my panty drawer.

But then again...

Who says I have to turn her back when I reinflate her.

I'm sure she wouldn't mind.

But she was oblivious to my little musings, swimming in a blissful dream of post-orgasm bliss, tucked away in my drawer.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)

[possesseddesiress]

Suit Up, Switch Off

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Suit Up, Switch Off

My name is Elliot, I'm about to start college and I've been single all my life.

I don't consider myself very attractive. And I guess that's why, plus I live in a small town lost in nowhere, it's very uncommon for someone to come out as gay in these parts.

Also, I was very nerdy, what's that got to do with it? Almost nothing really, but for as long as I could remember I'd loved superheroes: their muscles bulging in those suits that left nothing to the imagination, the spandex straining to contain those huge biceps, their strength in their pecs... I always wanted to be like that, although it was obviously a dream that never came true.

So I became a fan of hero movies or cosplayers. I loved seeing how the costumes looked on their manicured bodies, the bulges in the right places. And how hot they looked.

I'd had a lot of part-time jobs, mostly to save for college, though the odd bit of money I kept for my tastes. Among them: subscription sites.

I followed various cosplayers who uploaded content to their own pages, modeling their superhero costumes (some in less “everyday” poses), or without much clothing. Even with themes like hypnosis, bondage, and things a bit more... strange.

All of that seemed to feed my fantasies more and more, not because I wanted to be with such people (though I wouldn't complain if that were the case), but I wanted to be them.

Flexing those muscles, that I looked like that in those tight suits.

There was one in particular, though: Jason.

He was quite muscular, his suits fit him perfectly, and he had something in his face... that made him look like a mix between a nerd and an ideal himbo.

And I followed him everywhere, on his social networks, on his private and subscription channels. I was fascinated; that day he was live.

- Hello everyone! - he said with that excited air - I wanted to give you an announcement, rather, two - he smiled - First, how do you like my new Spiderman costume?

He lowered the camera to focus on his muscles, bounced his pecs with a soft laugh and brought the camera back up to his face.

- And, the platform has activated a new feature, I didn't really pay much attention to the email I got but, I have to be honest with you. Debuting this feature had a great payoff, so I decided to go for it! I think it's a "Meet And Greet" or something like that, it was called something like... Be Me. I don't remember the truth if I'm being honest.

He shook his head and typed a couple of things.

- Okay. This makes a list of all those who are subscribed and watching the video, then it will make a draw and... Well, the rest is what I didn't read - he laughed at himself - You just have to allow access to your accounts. Ready?

A roulette appeared on the screen, there were at least four hundred names there, or more. It immediately began to advance, for what felt like hours, until it slowed down little by little. And then stopped to burst into confetti enveloping the winner's name: Elliot Higgins.

- Congratulations, Elliot! - Jason smiled, leaning back in his chair as the suit thundered softly from containing his big, juicy muscles - Just give access to your account and... Well, we'll catch up later, I guess.

Immediately a message appeared on my screen. A huge “Do you accept?” message, there was a privacy notice underneath, but that looked huge. I didn't want to waste any more time, so I automatically selected the option.

The message disappeared and my screen suddenly went black. I thought maybe it was the battery, so I pressed the power button a couple of times to no avail. And when I was about to do it again, it was like feeling an electric charge run through my whole body.

My room was plunged into darkness as I felt strong spasms, my sight was filled with fuzzy colors that looked like wires, static noises and darkness again.

Until something seemed to pull me into the light and I came to myself. I had to blink hard, trying to focus on everything that was spinning around me.

- Shit, my head... - I muttered. I felt heavy, but it wasn't that fat heavy feeling I was used to, it was... very different.

I brought my hand to my forehead to try to ease the pain, but then I felt something against my skin. It was... cloth?

I opened my eyes wider, also feeling a weight on my nose, touched my face, bumping into glasses. But I never wore glasses.

I looked at my hands, now gloved in red and blue cloth with white textured reliefs. And finally, I saw the screen. Jason was there, but it seemed almost like a reflection, every action I did, he replicated it.

- Holy shit! - I smiled taking the camera, totally delighted with my new form - I'm him!

I let out a laugh somewhere between nervous and excited. Starting to feel Jason's muscles through the suit, I could feel how it tensed at the slightest flex.

I could feel my huge biceps, my sensitive pectorals through his reliefs, my fat, fleshy buttocks! I could feel everything, it was all mine now.

I took a closer look at the transmission, which seemed to be going crazy for what was happening. I started reading the comments, there was one in particular that caught my attention:

《 Jason didn't read things right before activating the feature. Be Me is an experimental function that allows two people to switch bodies for a certain amount of time 》

Some people called that subscriber a liar or crazy, but I denied excitedly.

- No, no! Not at all, he's right! I'm not Jason

I let out a laugh again. And the chat went crazy, again.

《 How does it feel to be in it? 》 - I blanched at the question.

- Well... It feels good, I think.

It seemed I was still just as nervous and awkward as my previous body. Though that didn't stop me from weighing and squeezing my pecs like careless.

《 You show us the suit now! 》

My heart was pounding. Jason had a body to die for, yes. But he was one of those kind of content creators who only uploaded his content “half-heartedly”, he didn't show very detailed stuff, he always tried to cover up with his hand below his hip, he didn't show from behind either.

He was just someone who liked to disguise himself... but not so much when other people said “naughty” comments about his body.

I stood still, in shock for a moment.

《 Well? 》 《 Yes, do it!》 《 Show everything! 》 《 I hope this guy isn't a prude too 》

My heart was pounding. However... Wasn't this what I always wished for? I wanted to be this strong. To have those suits like this look on me... To have these huge muscles.

I immediately spread my legs, sitting on the chair and leaning back in a dominant way.

- Not at all. You're coming for this, aren't you? - I flexed my new arms, stroked my pecs and felt my shaft begin to harden. I drew an arrogant expression on my face.

I kept rubbing my pecs until I hit one of my new nipples. A goofy expression formed as I grinned, and I began to pull them harder and more insistently, twisted them and gasped. It hurt a little, but all the pleasure coursed through my body like pure electricity, my feet curling and tensing as I grinned like an idiot.

- Hell... - I stammered.

But that didn't stop me from continuing to stroke myself like a deranged maniac.

My manhood was constantly bumping and rubbing against the suit, even I cupped my spandex pants, grabbing them from side to side to start forming a sort of back-and-forth. Which made me feel even more ecstatic.

- You guys would love to have me like this, wouldn't you?

I raised the camera again to give them an even better view of this body, in all its splendor.

- No filters, no limitations. This is the content they want from me... Just a silly himbo enjoying himself.

I bounced my pecs like balls, I was really loving the feel of every muscle wrapped tightly in the spandex. I also lifted his armpit, letting out a sigh from the sweat.

- Boy, does he stink! - I let out a laugh - apparently our good Jason loves to smell like sweat.

I pressed my face more against my armpit, enjoying the accumulated stench. My hand was rubbing insistently against my bulge. Then it slid down to find the cleft between his buttocks, to which I let out a gasp. I started rubbing the area with my new thick fingers over and over again, my face was flushed.

- Ah, ah! - I grinned like a moron, enjoying the sensation. I peeled my fingers off only to bring them to my nose, smiling even more at the smell of thick sweat. I rubbed my gloved fingers over and over against my nose with a satisfied smile.

- Do you like this new Jason better?

I said inhaling again and again my dumb, stinky, delicious jock scent... I flexed my arms more, I loved the feeling of power, of strength, extremely masculine and hot... And mine alone. A sense of arrogance rose from my loins along with me tool hard against the suit.

- You wish you were me, don't you, losers? - I let out a laugh rubbing the bulge more, feeling how I was about to be done in no time - To have all of this.

I flexed one last time before I felt strings and strands of thick goo coming out, my breathing labored and choppy, I ended up leaning back in the chair.

- Shit...

I closed my eyes. I felt that dizziness again and everything went black, just for an instant. But when I opened my eyes again, I still found Jason's room.

It turned out that "Be Me" had an error rate where people did not return to their original body, but stayed that way. And even better - for me, of course - there was also a tiny percentage that would forget their identity, and fit into their new body.

Just what happened to Jason. He now believed that he was Elliot all his life.

And I fit perfectly into his life. I continued to use the platforms he had for his content, although of course I increased the profits by dropping the prude attitude that old Jason had.

They all wanted this, and that they would get.

Did they want to see my huge, juicy buttocks? Granted.

Did they want to see my stinky feet? Of course, I could even stick them in my mouth just to keep them happy.

I kept working out on his body, making my muscles even bigger. I loved how they showed through the clothes, how tight the sleeves looked and even better, my pecs: fat, firm and round, even the slightest movement made them bounce.

I loved my scent too, it was intoxicating, I would end up exhausted from the gym and would rather go home like that, if it was by bus all the better, so I could spread my legs wide open and lift my armpits to stink all over, hopefully some guy would start sniffing and licking them.

I loved being Jason, every morning getting up and seeing his reflection, feeling the weight of my body, seeing my morning wood and staying for hours until I dropped buckets and buckets.

I also changed much of his closet, I got rid of the baggy, boring t-shirts and pants, replacing them with tops and other tight fitting things. Fuck the old Jason, now I was in control.

I was what I had always wanted, finally I was no longer a loser, now I was muscular, smelly and hot.

- Ready for another video, losers? You better be on your knees and hungry.

----

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[please1mistress]

Warning hypnotic covert language and flashing art that may induce a hypnotic trance without you being aware of it

Ah, the elusive blogger emerges from the digital depths, armed with a fresh spark of inspiration! It's like spotting a rare creature in the wild, one that usually prefers the quiet comfort of scrolling through the endless forest of images. But beware, dear readers, for when the inspiration strikes, a flurry of original content is sure to follow, raining down upon your feeds like a delightful storm of creativity. So keep your eyes peeled and your 'like' buttons ready, because when this blogger gets inspired, it's nothing short of a content extravaganza!

While scrolling this time it struck me that hypnosis isn't really sleep. It's a state of focused attention, heightened suggestibility, and vivid fantasies. People in hypnosis can seem zoned out or in a trance, but they're not asleep. They're actually in a state of deep relaxation and their brain activity reflects this, showing a receptiveness to new ideas and suggestions. This is why hypnosis can be so effective since it taps into the power of the subconscious mind to effect positive change. While it's often used as a therapeutic tool to improve sleep quality, it doesn't induce sleep itself; rather, it helps to prepare the mind and body for restful slumber.

you could be in a light trance as you read this because as you read this your mind is so focused on my words, that it's easy to let yourself relax into the things I say. The concept of a light trance is quite fascinating, often associated with a state of focused attention or absorption in an activity. It's similar to the experience of losing oneself in a good book or being engrossed in a hobby, where the world fades away and one's concentration is honed to a fine point. This state of mind can be beneficial for various mental processes, enhancing creativity, problem-solving abilities, and learning efficiency. It's a natural and safe phenomenon that many people experience regularly without even realizing it.

The beauty of reading lies in the magical dance of words, where one leads seamlessly to another, crafting a tapestry of meaning and imagination. As you read, each word acts as a stepping stone, guiding you through a river of narrative and knowledge. It's a journey that begins with a single word, unfolding into sentences, paragraphs, and chapters, each one building upon the last. making you anticipate what will come next, it heightens your focus, so it's easy for your mind to just relax into the things I am saying. Soon you are so focused that your mind isn't thinking of anything but my words. wanting to focus deeper on where I will guide you.

like being the subject of a hypnotist, you follow and feel your mind surrender to the words. The power of words is truly mesmerizing, isn't it? yes, it is, and you find that you felt the yes in your mind as you read my question, because you are now in a light trance, noticing your breathing has slowed and your focus is now fixated on my words, and the way my words are echoing in your mind. You want to be told what to do, how to think, you want to become more submissive and allow yourself not to think, don't you?

YES

[dr-spectre]

I just realised that the Octarians are so heavily mischaracterized in the fandom because we take the perspective of Inklings so they seem to be way worse than they actually are. Which in turn creates weird misinformation relating to the Octarians and making them unredeemable as a species as a whole, which is fucking insane considering what the underlying story of the trilogy is, which is uniting the Inklings and Octolings together.

"DJ Octavio brainwashed his troops!!" Literally false information, he uses music to motivate troops, the onward jingle is basically the Octarians and Octavio's... thing. That's their thing, Octavio uses it to basically signal "yo I worked on this track." And it has strong ties with Octarians as a whole, as songs found within Side Order constantly reuse the jingle without Octavio involvement.

Octarians are a struggling race of people that live in underground domes as their leader is forced is make them fight the Inklings and steal their power source. It's either kill or be killed. Sure, is there some propaganda? Yeah, but it ain't straight up pure mind control like what a lot of people say it is. It's more subtle and nuanced. When people say "brainwashing" in the fandom, it's ALWAYS the sci fi mind control bullshit version. Octarians do NOT get freed from mind control by the Calamari Inkantation, it is just a catchy song with strange properties that inspires the Octarians to wanna go to the surface and find a better life. Callie and Marie did not free Octarians from "brainwashing" they inspired them to go seek out the surface.

And speaking of Callie, the big one, "Callie got kidnapped and brainwashed by Octavio" which is just false in my eyes and Nintendo keeps trying to push that narrative to make the Octarians more cartoonishly evil. Callie went to Octo Canyon out of her own free will, she talked to Octavio and said "okay fine I'll hear you out." Callie has no trauma or pain relating to past events in Splatoon 3, she smiles seeing Octavio come back in Splatoon 3, she went to a PARTY WITH THE MAN AFTER SPLATOON 2 IN THE DEEPSEA METRO!! LIKE HELLO!?!? HELLO?!?! THAT DOESN'T SCREAM OCTAVIO TREATED HER LIKE A VICTIM NOW DOES IT?!?!?! "B-but the artbook says so! B-but the Splatoon base website! B-but the Nintendo magazine!" I do not fucking care about what some random ass website that hasn't been updated in years has to fucking say. I do not care what a magazine written by an intern has to say. I do not care about an artbook has to say. I am tired of people pulling that out.

Don't make me pull out the definition of hypnosis and how it isn't "brainwashing" again.... You cannot put the words HYPNOshades and brainwashing together because those two words are on opposite sides definition wise.

Anyways, justice for these little guys. They probably ain't gonna be in Splatoon 4 judging by Octavio's whole fucking army got turned into fuzzy monsters LMAO!

[emmabirb8]

Y'know... not to bring this up, but as a fat girlie I feel like it needs to be said-

Nandermo getting decimated after the build-up of what was seeming to be something grand and amazing up thru s3 not only for queer representation but also a fat character finally getting to have a happy ending with their more conventionally attractive love interest just feels like such a letdown in, like, five categories at once, lmao

Shadows started going downhill for me after the s3 finale, and luckily some other hyperfixations swooped in to occupy my brain by the time s5 rolled around, so I'm not nearly as bitter about the whole thing as I could have been. But still. STILL.

We really lost out on SO MUCH. And for what?? So the writers could stay in their dumb little comfort zone??? Gimme a fuckin' break.

We could have had a CANON VAMPIRE/HUMAN MIXED RACE MIXED WEIGHT EXPLICITLY ROMANTIC GAY PAIRING, but they decided "sitcom vibes" and shoehorning in "lol throwbacks" to s1 were more important (and truthfully, those aspects only made the finale that much more unfunny).

Anyway, in short, Nadja's hypnosis tragically did NOT work, and another fat character got cheated out of a satisfying culmination to (what was once) a stellar narrative lmao

[angrybubbles]

Everytime I see a post that blames Armand directly for the memory changes in season 1 I get so sad.

The memory rewriting thing isn't really show-cased to be an instant-fix. It's not something Armand can do passively. It seems to work more like hypnosis, and a more intense version of vampire charm. Armand had to sit Daniel down and repeat the edit to him multiple times with him repeating it back in order to make the edit.

You think Armand sat with Louis and had him repeat these edits to make Lestat seem worse? When Louis was ALREADY DOING THAT HIMSELF?? Considering how pissed Armand was that Louis was even talking about Lestat in 2x05, I'd say that is really unlikely.

The similarities between the two seem important to me. One just has intention from an outside source, while the other is the one you repeat to yourself in your own mind. They both reframe a narrative based on repetition. Armand's ability is gaslighting, literally.

If you blame Armand for anything associated with Louis' Lestat narrative, it's because Louis would have to recontextualize his past based on the lie of who saved him from the trial, not because Armand sat him down and brainwashed him. That's how reality-denial can begin, and why Louis is so confused by his past. It's a slightly different psychological route, yes, and both can be Armand's fault, but one allows Louis a lot more agency over his narrative.

Armand certainly isn't innocent, and we'll probably never know exactly how many times he used the power of vampire-gaslighting on Louis, but goodness let Louis be a little in control of his own thoughts. And keep the memory rewrite power in a little bit of show-context.

[rassicas]

rassicas, you have to help me. what is Octavio's dialogue in the JP version of Splat2's final boss fight, at least at the start of it?

this has been driving me up the WALL because, specifically, of the "Gwa ha ha! I remixed Callie's brain!" line in English.

this line. is the one thing. that localization wants to haunt and beguile me with. i can reasonably doubt other weird additions and choices in splat2 for other reasons, but this WILL not leave me alone.

it implies /very/ specific things about Splat2 hero mode that conflict with other things about Callie and her behavior and the whole narrative. did localization just add this because funny music pun? are the same implications of brainwashing there in JP? there's lore and characterization implications at stake here and they won't let me rest

i remember there being a convo in the inkipedia discord about this exact line of dialogue

i havent compared the localization of the s2 base story mode to the JP as much as ive researched say, octo expansion. it looks like its worth comparing, considering the conflicting information about callie agreeing to go and her kidnapping and all that? but tbh i am not invested in the idols like other people are otherwise i wouldve done that sooner LOL the way i understand it is that callie was willing to work with the octarians, but had to be hypnotized/brainwashed when it came down to actively fighting against the new squidbeak splatoon. i know hypnosis and brainwashing are Not the same thing but we're working with cartoon tropes i guess. i can say "brainwash" is not exclusive to english localization. here's that "Gwa ha ha! I remixed Callie's brain!" line in JP:

ギギ… アオリチャン チョロイ！ カンタンニ センノウ デキタ！ Gwa ha ha...Aori-chan [Callie] is so simple-minded! I was able to brainwash her with ease!

センノウ=洗脳=literally "washing brain"

if it means anything, the hypnoshades are called サイミンサングラス saimin sangurasu, which seems to be a double play on 催眠 saimin, hypnosis, and saimin, the hawaiian ramen-like noodle dish

[udayg]

Words and Vision

Understanding Spiritual Blindness Jesus heals a blind man in Jerusalem Biblical Concepts of Blindness One of the recurrent motifs in the Bible is the theme of “spiritual blindness.” The words of Jesus Christ repeatedly address the blindness of the people surrounding him. Jesus is frequently depicted, in the Bible, healing people of their blindness, which can sometimes even be an innate…