Parasitic Mind Control and Other Musings

There’s no immediate sign that her conscious mind has simply ceased to function. Her stare is glassy and unfocused, but it’s been a good five minutes since she’s even tried to look away from the spinning disc, and at least ten minutes since the last time she succeeded. Her blank, unseeing gaze is only different from her hypnotized stare by a matter of degree. Even when her head lolls to one side, watching the constantly rotating spiral pattern with her face tilted like a bewildered puppy, it’s not much different than she looked a few moments ago.

So the music continues. There’s no risk to it–it’s not like her head can be made too empty and vacant, her mind too malleable and compliant for the next steps in her conditioning. The hidden observers are watching her through a camera with no microphone, perfectly safe from the numbing effects of the subliminals. They’re happy to let the hidden harmonics combine with the overwhelming visual stimulus of the swirling spiral as long as it takes to guarantee that Bethany’s brain is completely melted to mush.

It’s only when they see a slow trickle of drool escape the corners of Bethany’s faintly smiling mouth that they know she’s ready. That’s when the secret door at the back of the changing booth opens, and the smiling, blank-eyed woman (Bethany’s future, even if she doesn’t know it) leads Bethany back to the next room. There’s a spiral there as well, spinning in front of a comfortable chair that Bethany sinks into with dreamy exhaustion. There’s a pair of headphones, which the blank-eyed woman settles carefully onto Bethany’s head. There’s nothing else in the room. There doesn’t need to be.

Bethany will be thinking again soon. It’s just that the thoughts she thinks won’t be hers.

once you realize your destiny as a drone there is no going back

you will always be a drone

you have always been a drone

no name, no face, no identity, fully encased

Another piece by the awesome sleepymaid, though I didn’t have any personal hand in this one.

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The sleek blackness oozed over his skin with impossible perfection, paving over hair and sweat, blemishes and scars, all those pointless, unique human frailties.

He tried fighting it before (did he?) but as the latex crept over his cock, his body was numbing to everything but the latex clutching him, making everything seem distant and muted like watching it happen to someone else (where did those heels come from again?).

That numbness invaded his mind, slowing his thoughts, coating his mind, putting a shiny skin between him and what was happening, a wall between the vague, blurry image of the boy half-glanced in mirrors with the entrancing featureless black-skinned now. 

Feelings and memories were so far away now, just another part of the world outside that the latex coating him separated and protected him from, and as he touched himself without thinking, he idly wondered if this was a dream, all in his mind.

No.

Drones had no minds, no thoughts, no dreams.

The only mind was Owner’s will.

The only thoughts were Owner’s programming.

The only dream was Owner’s pleasure.

Drone felt the latex grip and stroked the fleshy cock, bringing it to attention, pitifully straining as the latex sucked and pressed, forming a sheath around it before pulling free from the featureless skin, a Dronecock of Owner’s design and desire.

The lovely @hayushiba7 created this blank eyed image of my eyes. I’m sure some of you wish I had eyes like that… or maybe, your eyes are drawn to my blank stare, making you look deeper and showing you just how blank you’re going to be once you listen to my sweet, sultry voice.