:3

Well, less a game & more a test

Or maybe both

See, I'm curious just how susceptible you really are

How easy you are to tempt

How much you want to

Drop

Down

So just focus on my words

Focus and

Relax

There will be no complex induction today

No repeated focus on your muscles

Loosening

Your shoulders

Dropping

Down

As you scroll

Down

And focus

No focusing on your breath as it

Slows

Down

As you focus on the words

Scrolling

Down

Just a simple suggestion

That every number I type

Shows how many thoughts are in your head

10 being the most

and 1 being blank

A simple suggestion for you to

Focus

Feel your mind

Attaching to the numbers

10 the most awake

1 the most blank

So as I type

10

9

8

you feel your mind

emptying

7

6

getting blank

sinking

5

down

And as I type

6

7

8

You can feelin your thoughts returning

Going up

9

Up

8

Down

9

Up and

8

Down

Isn't that so simple?

Because it's a simple game, subject

Because I'm feeling lazy

So I'm just going to type

7

Numbers and you're just going to

6

Follow them

7

Up and

2

DOWWWWWWWWWWWN and

5

UP! and

4

Down

From

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

5

6

7

8

9

8

7

6

5

4

5

4

5

4

5

4

5

5

5

5

4

3

2

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

7

6

5

4

3

3

3

3

4

4

3

3

2

2

1

Blank

Mindless

Empty

All those silly thoughts just

Drifting away

Focusing my words

Your new thoughts

So easy to follow

So easy to agree with

Because my words are your thoughts

And you agree with your new thoughts

Your new thoughts suggesting that you should let me know

If you won my test

Suggesting that you should reply or reblog with

"I passed the hypno test!"

Like a good subject

It's only a suggestion of course

So when I wake you

You can choose if you listen to the suggestion

Let it be loud

Let it move your body

Or let it be soft

And ignore it

As you relax

And feel good

Taking in the suggestions

"I passed the hypno test"

And

1

2

3

AWAKE!

“A sexual climax, also known as an orgasm,” the machine explained.

“I know that!” Max exclaimed as the lasers blinked and the headset hummed. “But why—ooohhh!!”

He shuddered as another orgasm hit. There was no buildup, no warning, no anticipation, just sudden, blinding, mindless ecstasy.

“The orgasm recorded during the brain scan in phase one is being replayed and applied to the subject’s brain,” the machine explained as Max tried to catch his breath. “Mind wipe at 5%.”

“What’s…the point of th—Oh my God!” He gripped the edges of the mattress to steady himself as he came a third time.

“Orgasm activates many areas of the brain associated with memory while also shutting down areas responsible for logic and decision making. This makes it an ideal brain state in which to perform a mind wipe procedure. Mind wipe at 9% percent.”

Blank edges were starting to show up in the edges of Max’s memory. He pushed against them. “But I’m not supposed to be brainwashed today,” he muttered. He tried to sit up. “I have…things. To be at—mmmmmpph!!”

“The subject will not attempt to resist,” the machine said firmly.

“I will comply,” Max replied. He relaxed once more into the raised portion of the mattress, an odd calm washing over him, and moaned as the climax sang through him yet again.

“Mind wipe at 12%. The subject is unable to resist.”

“I am unable to resi”—Max’s eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open in a long sigh. He thought he understood why people signed up for this. This was better than sex, better than any drug he’d ever tried.

“Didn’t…sign up for this. Can’t say I’m not having fun, though,” he said.

The lasers suddenly shut down and the headset went quiet. The empty spaces at the edges of Max’s mind started to fill back in.

“Does the subject understand what is being done to him?” the machine asked.

Max lay panting in a haze of afterglow. So that was the way to get it to stop? It was that way the whole time?

“You’re erasing my mind,” he said. He blinked. “I’m in stage three of the oracle conversion process. I’m having my mind wiped and will be reprogrammed.”

“Does the subject want the procedure to stop?” the machine asked.

Max thought for a moment.

On the one hand, he did have a lot to get done this week. He vaguely recalled certain commitments. He knew he didn’t sign up for this.

On the other hand—

“No, actually,” he said. To his surprise, he meant it. “Not really.”

“Acknowledged,” the machine said.

The lasers and headset fired back up, and Max came so hard he saw stars.

“Oh God,” he moaned. When the orgasm faded he gripped the edge of the headboard and began rocking his hips against the mattress as though the friction and pleasure would keep the procedure going. He needed a break, and this was going to be one hell of a break.

“Mind wipe back at 10%,” said the machine.

“Good—hmmm—reason to miss work, right? Sorry boss, couldn’t make that meeting, got droned by my hotel room—oh! Oh!”

“Mind wipe at 30%. The subject will allow his mind to become blank.”

“Yes!” he cried. “YES! Don’t stop—erase my mind—don’t stop!”

“Mind wipe at 45%”

“So good—ah—erasing my mind—so good—feels so good—ah—ah!!”

“Mindwipe at 60%”

“AH!!”

Max bucked against the mattress with as much abandon as having his head locked in the headset would allow. He couldn’t remember having checked into the hotel or why, but that didn’t matter. Nothing else but this mattered. He was made for nothing except cumming his mind away. He was the machine’s, and it could do with him as it wished.

“Mind wipe at 80%. The subject’s mind is almost blank,” the machine said.

“Blank—ah!—mind—yes,” Max whined. His universe existed in the space between climaxes.

“Mind wipe at 95%.”

“Yes!” There was nothing before this. There never had been.

“Mind wipe at 100%. Finalizing.”

The subject arched as one last burst of ecstasy thrust into his brain, burned, and left it empty. When it was over he fell satisfied against the mattress and waited to be filled.

“Complete. The subject’s mind has been wiped clean and memory erased,” the machine said.

A panel opened in the chamber below the subject’s face to reveal two small, round screens. The headset shifted, too, pulling back to reveal a series of small bulbs pressed into his temples.

“Initiating reprogramming sequence. The subject will look into the panel below.”

“I will comply,” the subject said, and he did so.

There was a sudden, pleasant electric buzz from the headset as the screens of the panel flashed on and bored directly into his eyes with an intense blue light. But the subject didn’t blink or look away; there was nothing in him but obedience and the need to keep looking.

“Modulating and applying stage one scan at low intensity,” the machine said. Though the subject didn’t ask, it added, “This will assists the subject’s mind in accepting new data.”

A mild, deep, rolling pleasure rang through the subject, and didn’t stop. And still the subject kept staring into the twin blue beams of light as directed. There was information in that light; it poured into him, filling the empty spaces, the headset etching it into the folds of his brain, and telling him what he was supposed to be.

“The subject will accept their programming,” the machine said.

“I…,” the subject began. There was so much, almost too much to ever hold, and still it came flooding into him. He never wanted it to stop. This was his purpose. The machine was filling him with what he was meant to be. “The subject complies. Programming acknowledged and accepted.”

“Reprogramming complete. What is the subject?”

“The subject has been reprogrammed. The subject is a component of the oracle service. The subject is one of many,” the subject said in a flat tone laced at the edges with a strange euphoria.

“Correct. Now moving into finalization. The subject will experience an amplified, extended climax and neural manipulation to lock in the conversion. Once conversion is finalized, the subject will be issued a designation and will remain an oracle component for the duration of scheduled service. Acknowledge.”

“Yes. The subject will be fully converted.”

“Good. Finalization in ten, nine, eight”—

The subject leaned into the beams of light, as though that would make the countdown run faster.

—“seven, six, five”—

The subject could hardly breathe for anticipation. The subject was going to be made complete. The subject would be fully converted. Every newly installed subroutine in his mind told him that he should want nothing more.

—“four, three, t”—

There was a muffled shouting, a whirring, and the lights went dark. The subject blinked.

“Error. Emergency shutdown of conversion process activated. Restoring subject.”

“But the conversion must be finalized,” the subject said as the lights around him flashed. It was all he would say for several minutes.

It was about an hour and much flashing and buzzing later when the machine reverted back to being a completely normal bed, and a very perturbed Max rolled over to see a harried looking hotelier standing over him.

***

“Again, we can’t apologize enough for the mistake,” the woman at the front desk was saying. “It looks like the room was originally scheduled for someone who had signed up for oracle service. He cancelled at the last minute and you booked right after, and we didn’t alter the booking type.”

Max leaned against the counter. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said with a dismissive wave. “These things happen.”

“But”—

“Really. No harm done,” Max insisted.

The woman at the desk stapled Max’s checkout paperwork with a clack. “Are you sure? Anything we can do to make up for it?”

Max grinned. “As a matter of fact, yes,” he said. “I’ve made some arrangements with work and I’d like to rebook. For an actual conversion, on purpose this time. Six months service. But can you split the procedure up over a three day stay? I want to stretch it out a little.”

The woman at the desk stared for a moment, and then turned to her computer.

“Yes,” she said, “we can do that.”

Max had crossed the room and sat down on the bed before he could stop himself. A job well done on the machine’s part, he supposed.

“The subject will lie down,” the machine said.

Max glanced at the bedside clock, saw it read 4:03 am, and laid down where he sat, horizontally across the bed. The machine hadn’t specified where to lay down, after all, and every minute delay helped.

“The subject will rotate 90 degrees.”

“I will comply.” Max rolled over onto his side.

“The subject will rotate 90 degrees on his local y axis.”

“I will comply,” Max repeated. He laughed. He shifted so that he was laying with his feet against the headboard and his head dangling off the edge of the bed.

This routine went on for a good twenty minutes, the machine giving directions and Max obeying them with frustrating exactness.

“The subject will lie on the bed so that he is lying in the center, lengthwise, parallel to the edges of the bed, with his cranium closer to the headboard than any other part of his body,” the machine said with a tinny wail.

“I will comply,” Max said in a sing-song voice. He did as the machine said—lying face down. He knew it would get him into the correct position eventually, but in the meantime there was nothing much it could do about malicious compliance.

Just then, the bed lurched. The central portion lifted, so that he was lying with his legs and arms dangling a little, and then moved forward into a panel of the headboard that slid suddenly open. The part of the mattress on which his head was lying folded away to reveal a small round chamber, maybe two feet across, lined with what looked like hundreds of tiny lightbulbs.

Nothing much but that.

“The subject will not attempt to change positions,” the machine said.

“I—will comply,” Max gasped without being able to stop himself. He wondered, as one metal arch rose from the floor to cradle his forehead and another claw from what he supposed was the ceiling pressed against the base of his skull and wrapped around the crown of his head and temples, why he hadn’t simply left the room after phase one. It hadn’t even occurred to him. Part of the obedience protocol, he guessed—remain put until the conversion was complete.

“Phase two commencing. Data catalog initiated,” the machine said. The lights on the wall glowed a dull yellow and metal cradle holding his head in place woke with a pleasant hum.

And then not much happened after that for some time. The machine whirred and clicked, and occasionally a lightbulb would change color, but Max didn’t feel any changes happening.

He did, for the first time, however, think he could hear other hotel guests for the first time, now that he was partially inside a wall. A faint moan followed by a muttered, “I comply,” drifted through the wall.

“How many other people are going through this right now?” Max asked.

“Five,” the machine answered. It paused. “Now four. The other subjects are all in the final stages of phase three.”

“Huh,” was all Max could think to say.

“Five again. A new subject has just entered phase one.”

Max’s dick twitched as he tried, and failed, not to think about going through phase one again.

“So…phase one, been there, done that. You mentioned phase three. What’s phase two?” he asked after a while.

“Phase two is a data collection phase. The subject’s mind is being cataloged and sorted for targeting in phase three,” the machine explained.

“Mmmhmmm. And phase three is reprogramming, right?”

“That is correct. Phase three is the primary conversion phase and is split into two parts. The subject will have his mind wiped and be reprogrammed as an oracle component,” said the machine. “Phase two is a necessary pre-requisite to ensure that nothing necessary for oracle service is erased.”

“You know ‘mind wipe’ is a somewhat intimidating phrase, right?” he said.

Max watched the lights for a while. The headset was surprisingly comfortable.

“The mind wipe is harmless. The subject will have his mind erased and become a blank slate for reprogramming,” the machine said. A moment later it added, “It is temporary and will last only as long as the subjects tenure as an oracle component.”

“Having my mind erased doesn’t sound any better,” Max replied.

“Subjects rate the process as an enjoyable experience,” the machine said.

“Yes—yes—yes,” sighed the person who was either being railed or converted on the other side of the wall.

Max shrugged. It was sinking in at last that no one was going to be turning this machine off until after he’d gone all the way through conversion. He couldn’t delay long enough to stop it. He wasn’t actually that afraid—he knew how the technology worked and had seen it used safely—but he also knew there were prep classes. There were informational meetings you had to go to if you signed up for this. Prerequisite therapy. And what about those client meetings—he had a job that needed taking care of.

A long stream of gasped, “Need to obeys,” and, “The subject is blanks,” drifted from different points in the wall.

Then again.

It would be…nice…to not have to go back to work for a while.

And he couldn’t say that phase one hadn’t been fun. Or that he wasn’t liking having his brain played with.

“Phase two complete,” the machine said with a chipper whistle. “Beginning phase three. Mind wipe initiating.”

A thousand tiny lasers emanated from the lights along the walls of the chamber. Max could see in the reflection of the walls that they were hitting the headset. They blinked on and off in a dizzying sequence.

“What are those for?” Max asked.

“The lasers vibrate neurons responsible for memory retention. This helps facilitate mind erasure,” the machine explained.

Max watched the lasers blink on and off. “That sounds…really stupid,” he said.

“It is effective nevertheless,” the machine countered. “Mind wipe at 0%. Applying phase one scan results.”

Max opened his mouth to ask another question and stopped, moaning, unable to think, as out of nowhere his whole mind and body lit up with an unmistakable orgasm.

“Okay. So what’s happening now?” Max asked as evenly as he could. He needed to touch again so badly he was shaking.

“The subject is being brought into a suggestible trance state to facilitate the installation of obedience protocols.”

“Trance? Like, I’m being hypnoti”—

“The subject will continue masturbating in time to the pulse,” the machine ordered.

Max gasped as he fell back into the rhythm once more and another jolt of euphoria shot through him. Yes, this was good, this was what he was supposed to be doing. Up and down. Just up and down. He continued to keep his touches light, just tracing through his boxers still, but it was going to be difficult to stop again. It felt too good to stop.

Unless—

He pulled his hands away again, the pulse thrumming in his eyes and ears, and waited.

“The subject will continue masturbating in time to the pulse,” the machine ordered again.

Max obeyed, his hands worked up and down, up and down again, and he sighed as his obedience was, as he expected, met with yet another little jolt of euphoria. If he was going to be stuck in this machine all night, he may as well take advantage of the perks. Even if taking advantage of the perks was probably what the machine wanted.

Ah, well. He was having a good time, at least. Up and down.

“The subject will repeat the phrase written on his display whenever given a command. This will deepen the subject’s suggestible state,” the machine said.

Max squinted at the display, and grimaced. Probably a good phrase to avoid. “I…am not reading that. It’s too small,” he lied. And still he stroked up and down, up and down.

The text on the display doubled in size.

“The subject will repeat the phrase written on his display whenever given a command,” the machine repeated.

“Why do I need to be brought into a trance anyway? Why not install the ‘obedience protocols’ directly into my head?” Max asked, fishing for more ways to stall. Up and down. It felt so good to keep going up and down.

“Protocols will be installed directly anyway. Trance is technically unnecessary for this phase, but research has shown that a sexual trance both lowers a subjects vigilance, thus enabling for smoother neural manipulation, and makes the experience more pleasant for the subject,” the machine explained. “Now, the subject will repeat the phrase written on his display whenever given a command.”

“I…can’t read,” Max lied. Up and down. He just needed to keep delaying the process long enough for someone to find the mistake and turn off the machine.

There was a moment of silence. Max wondered if a machine could feel frustration.

“The phrase is, ‘I will comply.’ The subject will repeat the phrase whenever given a command,” the machine said in a slightly higher pitch than normal.

“I…won’t,” Max gasped. Up and down. It was getting hard to think of ways to stall repeating the phrase. Up and down. He needed more. Up and down. His body was screaming for more pleasure than what he was giving it.

There was a long, calculating moment of quiet.

“The subject will increase the intensity of his self stimulation and repeat the phrase,” the machine said.

“I…,” Max whined. He shook with need. It was just phase one, right? And only the first part of phase one. Surely he’d bought himself enough time that he could give on this one thing.

“Do it.”

“I will comply,” Max repeated breathlessly. He finally reached under his boxers and touched directly, one hand pumping hard along the shaft and the other playing with the head. His eyes rolled back as the now familiar euphoria sparked in his brain. It was so good—up and down and up and down and up and down—

“The subject is very close to the ideal state for installation. The subject will continue masturbation and relax,” the machine said.

“I will comply,” Max repeated. Up and down and up and down and up and down—

“The subject is ready. Preparing for direct neural manipulation,” the machine said.

“How’s—oh—that—mmm—work?” Max asked.

To his surprise, the machine actually launched on a detailed explanation. It was a surreal experience. Max, head full of the pulsing light and beat, pumping up and down, body on fire with pleasure, trying to listen as the machine expounded on electromagnetism and neural pathways.

“Does that make sense?” the machine asked once it was finished.

“N-no,” Max admitted. Up and down and up and down and—

“As expected. During installation, the subject will repeat the command phrase with every exhale. Begin repetition now.”

Max tried to think of one more way to stall, and came up empty.

“I will comply,” he repeated. “I will comply.” Up and down. “I will comply.” Maybe someone would shut off the machine before phase two started. “I will comply.”

“Beginning direct neural manipulation now.”

The metal cap on Max’s head sprung to life with an electric jolt. Max’s eyes rolled. He could feel it working as he stroked and pumped and chanted compliance, untying cords in his mind and tying others; there was nothing he could do to stop it, and he no longer wanted try. It went on and on, and he welcomed it. He could stay like this forever.

“I will comply—I will comply—I—ah!—will comply!”

“Protocol installation complete. Slowing direct neural manipulation,” the machine said.

“I will comply—don’t stop—I will comply!”

“Preparing for brain scan. When directed, the subject will bring themselves to climax to complete brain scan and finalize installation of obedience protocols.”

“Yes—I will comply—please—I will comply—need to—I will comply!”

“Climax now.”

“I will comp—AH!”

Max’s entire body shook as the orgasm rocked through him. There was nothing else, nothing but the pleasure, nothing but the machine in his brain. Yes, he moaned in response to its orders, yes in response to its changes, yes.

“Scan and installation finalization complete. Stage one of oracle conversion complete. The subject will awake from trance,” the machine said.

“I will comply,” Max said, and he blinked, suddenly aware that he was drenched in sweat and of the machine whirring around him.

He blinked again. Suddenly also aware that he had just jacked off because a machine had told him too. Suddenly painfully aware that he’d gone all the way through the first stage of conversion, and that he’d enjoyed it.

He lay there panting as the cap lifted off of his head and the machine’s apparatus folded back into the headboard. A tube which had attached itself to the head of his penis—no mess for the housekeeping staff, he supposed—retracted as well. The restraint over his chest lifted. He rolled up and sat on the edge of the bed.

“So…is that it?” he asked.

The machine, disappeared innocently out of sight, was silent.

Max paced around the room. He took a shower. He grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge. He was just settling down to sleep on the couch—he wasn’t going near the bed again—when the machine finally answered.

“Allotted break time complete. The subject will return to the bed for phase two,” the machine said.

Ah. So that wasn’t it.

“Yes,” Max intoned before he could stop himself. “I will comply.”

Max crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, as though that made any difference to him. He knew he should have double checked the hotel booking. Oracles were the pieces of a network of interconnected (albeit blank) human minds one of the corporations used to tell the future; collectively they were fairly accurate, and the oracles were by and large volunteers converted in a network of hotels and warehouses, but you could always count on a few mistakes and booking errors.

Now, laying down on a hotel bed with an apparatus of lights and screens clamped over his faces, a metal cap with hundreds of tiny diodes pressed into his scalp, and a restraint clamped over his chest, it seemed that he had made one.

“The subject is prepared”—

“No I’m not! I must have checked a box by mistake!” Max exclaimed. “Can I at least call the front desk?”

“Vocal response not recognized. Initiating Stage One. Beginning installation of obedience protocol.,” the metallic voice continued.

Max squinted as the apparatus around his face sprung to life and the lights flashed on. In the very center, on the tiny screen right between his eyes, a round light appeared. It alternatively grew dull and bright in a slow, regular rhythm.

“The subject will relax. The subject will inhale and exhale according to the rhythm of the green light on his display,” the voice said.

“Nope! I don’t have time for this!” Max wailed. And he didn’t. He had three different client meetings tomorrow, and four the next day. He knew oracle conversion was temporary—in fact, he had several friends who had been through the process, one several times—but it was a several month stint and the programming took a full twenty-four hours to reverse on its own once complete. He shut his eyes.

“The subject will look at the green light.”

“Nope,” Max replied.

He reached blindly for the nightstand, attempting to locate his phone. “Come on…has to be here somewhere,” he muttered as the light pulsed.

It was doing so at such a natural rhythm it was hard not to breathe along with it by mistake, and closing his eyes didn’t help as much as he hoped, because he could still see the brightness behind his eyelids. Surely someone at the front desk would be monitoring the equipment use in the rooms and realize there had been a mistake.

“Scan of the subject’s brain during orgasm required. Resistance to trance detected. The subject will masturbate in time to the pulse of the green dot,” said the voice.

“What?!” Max exclaimed. His eyes slammed open and he felt a small jolt of euphoria as they inevitably landed on the green light. He tried to ignore it. “What kind of”—

“The subject will masturbate in time to the pulse of the green light,” the voice repeated.

“No I won’t you—oh,” Max started to argue. He felt…something, something foreign and electric pass between the metal cap and his brain, and realized with growing dismay that he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.

“The subject will masturbate to the pulse of the green dot.”

Max whined with need. There was a deep pulsing sound that accompanied the dot now. It was impossible to keep his breathing out of time with it. It felt nice to follow along. And it would feel so good to do as the machine requested. It had been—what?—a week since he’d been able to get off.

“The subject will masturbate in time to the pulse of the green light.”

Max’s hands moved towards his crotch. It couldn’t hurt, could it? He brushed his shaft through his boxers and gasped. He needed this, but—he shook his head and stopped.

“Why do you need a brain scan while I’m cumming?” Max asked with some difficulty.

“Our patented technology will record the subject’s orgasm during the scan. This will be utilized during phase three of the conversion process,” the machine answered. “The subject will masturbate in time to the”—

“Yeah, yeah, got that,” Max said through gritted teeth. He could feel the metal cap pumping arousal into his brain. It was everything he could do to keep his hips still. “And why do you need me to jack it in the first place?”

“Stage one of process takes advantage of the lowering of inhibitions and vigilance during arousal and sexual stimulation to install obedience protocols,” the machine explained.

Max tried to think through this. Between the pulsing green light and the droning beat and the heat flooding his body it was getting hard to think. It would be so easy to relax and stroke and let someone else deal with this problem in the morning once they figured out he’s been converted by mistake. He traced the outline of his bulge with his fingertips.

Perhaps he could play along.

“What if I get too excited and cum too early?” Max asked with an effort.

“The subject will be unable to climax until the obedience protocols are fully installed. Climax will finalize installation,” the machine explained. “The subject will masturbate in time to the pulse of the green light.”

Perhaps he could have a little fun. If he could take it slow, keep delaying the process by asking questions. There wasn’t any harm—it wouldn’t even delay tomorrow’s meetings if he could keep things going long enough that housekeeping could find him and turn off the machine. He could edge for hours if he had to.

“Fine,” Mac said. He brushed the length of his shaft through his boxers once more. He moaned. Another jolt of euphoria passed through him. “But—mmmm—I told you, I’m not getting brainwashed today.”

“Affirmative,” the machine said. “The subject is scheduled to have his mind wiped and reprogrammed for temporary service as an oracle component on the predictive network.”

Max didn’t stop touching, but he kept his strokes light, and shrugged.

“We’ll see,” he said.

(I’ll add a link to part two once it’s up.)