Pandora Hex, Wordbender

That hal/fway point

Between the st/art and the end

When you did /the hard thing

But things are/n’t better yet

They tell you it/ will be soon

You’ll get/ there soon

It’s alw/ays soon

/

Zeno, th/e bastard

Too smart for/ his own good

That didn’t stop a/n arrow hitting him

Right in /the arse

Go jump halfway d/own a building, you cunt!

/

I will g/et there.

I’m more tha/n halfway there.

by Pandora Hex

This story got away from Me a little bit, in the best way possible. In many ways, it's taken Me just over 33 years to write - I hope it's good. It's not as erotic as I usually write here, but there are times you'll get glimpses of sensuality.

Content warnings for cult mentions, emotional abuse, allusions to hypnotic abuse, depression, transgender themes, emotions.

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This is a story about a wicked sorceress, the hearts she stole, and the challenges she met along the way.

It’s got heartbreak, tragedy, loss and betrayal. Deception, too.

But it also has happiness. It’s got joy and passion and love. So much love, you wouldn’t believe it.

For a long time, the sorceress didn’t know her destiny. She didn’t know about the spark of magic, or about her own pleasure. She was ordinary, and she spent a lot of time forcing that to be true.

But magic isn’t easily contained. It sneaks out, in little ways.

Consider that young boy. It started with stories. Juvenile at first as you’d expect, knights and dragons, a childhood home exaggerated to be a mansion… no, a castle… no, a glorious palace!

He’d always scowl when he got carried away like that. No, he was nothing special.

He’s a little older now. He hasn’t written a story in years, ever since he shared the one about a princess fighting a vampire king and later found it in the bin.

He fits in, likes normal things, he has friends; he’s happy.

But that’s not really true, is it?

In an entirely different realm, the sorceress weaves her words into the threads of every discussion she comes across. Flitting from place to place, enchanting with her voice and her presence, and knowing with absolute certainty that this is what she was made for.

He logs off and ignores the hole in his heart. He has martial arts practice, he agreed to go to a birthday party for somebody he barely knows, he has a paper route to do, and he lies about how much he makes so he can spend the extra on…

The sorceress gasped when she first saw herself. The wig was terrible, the dress from the back of a wardrobe, out of style years ago.

But none of that mattered. The spark of magic ignited, and there was plenty of fantasy and imagination to kindle the flame.

“I wish you’d let me cut your hair.”

He was a bit too old for a paper route now, and the kind of wigs she wanted were getting a bit pricy. Why not just grow it? And it suited her.

“People are going to think you’re a girl.”

A lump in his throat. They won’t.

He was doing great. Top of his class, even a little popular, in the way that some nerdy boys could still pull off. He just knew the right things to say, how to present himself. The mask never slipped.

He skipped every swimming lesson, and wrote stories in detention.

She’s smiling behind the darkness in his head. If he’s popular at school, they love her even more in that other world.

The sorceress, who dazzles them with descriptions of incandescent magic, of subtle invocation, of the passion and excitement in her heart.

It’ll be years before she understands what those compliments really meant. What they thought she was. He talks to a guy on a school trip, and they sneak off to the bathrooms.

She asks him to call her a good girl, but quickly corrects himself in the momentary confusion.

People look at him a little funny after that, but not for too long. And he hardly cares anymore. She’s happier in the other world. Where she can talk now about everything that’s happening to her, she’s been granted access to those circles which tantalised her for so long.

But she’d already had glimpses of it, in private conversations, in that bathroom on the school trip. It had been calling her name, even if she didn’t have a real one yet.

It was, frankly, hypnotic.

He was independent now, full of shame. This wasn’t how a man was supposed to be. He shouldn’t be craving the things he was craving. And he should be going to his classes. Why couldn’t he make himself go? A year sped by. Failed out on the final exam by one point.

He’d wasted so much time on fantasy. It was her fault. He cut her hair, he threw away her clothes and she wept with every knife he stabbed into his own heart.

He logged on this time, he was in that other realm. It felt.. familiar and different at the same time. He made new friends, found a new home. And after a while, he found something incredible.

A soft, fluffy, white pup. With the bluest eyes, pretty round face.

They talked every day. They spent every hour playing games and watching robots fight, roleplaying and falling in love.

On their first date, the pupy wore the gothiest, laciest dress he’d ever seen. He got to find out, on the back of a bus, that she wasn’t wearing underwear.

He had a good life. He’d thrown everything that reminded him of the sorceress away and didn’t think about it much. Snatched moments in B&Bs, hotels, rented apartments. He was happy and comfortably ordinary.

She hadn’t cut her hair again though. It grew back fast.

He had no idea where it came from. It was a night like any other, he was playing with his pup. Completely from nowhere, the magic flared into life again. There she was, in all her glory, all curves and happiness, in a sleek red swimsuit.

Her pup was the most loyal, most loving, kindest and devoted pet a woman could hope for. Their bond only grew stronger after that moment. She explored more, became the woman she really was.

She didn’t know she’d done it at the time, but this was the first captured heart, treasured and held close.

We used the word before: hypnotic.

It had always been part of her fantasies, but here she was, using her voice and her words to enchant people, to let them enchant her.

To let them tell her to do things. Think things. To ignore some things. Oh dear.

Doing what Crimson said was bad. But it felt good. Until it didn’t feel good anymore. She had to get out. Her magic was stymied, for a while. But she’d found something else in that excitement, something truly important.

A smiling, confident, clockwork doll.

They escaped that cult. She still feels strange using that word. They found their own spaces for a while, the sorceress and the doll. Life went on. She got to be her own person again, always weaving in and out of tantalising scenes and situations.

The vampire was enticing. She had an energy, an allure the sorceress couldn’t help but desire. It was the vampire who invited the sorceress in, and they grew close.

But she didn’t understood her own magic properly. Not yet.

Maybe it was something left over from the cult. But it was her own fault. She hadn’t been able to see it. As much as hypnosis had given her, it was taking away from her too. She wasn’t seeing these precious gifts the way she ought to. She’d hurt people. Treated them wrong.

The scar still glows on her heart.

I promise you, dear reader, that there is a happy ending. But the next part might lead you to think that things couldn’t possibly have gotten better. I want you to bear in mind as you read, that the sorceress’ tale has many more chapters yet.

The vampire and her family cast the sorceress out. She sealed her magic, so she couldn't hurt anybody again. She cut her hair.

Her hair though. Nothing would ever take that away.

She spent her days in darkness and sadness, other than the brief windows with her loyal pup.

In one of these moments, curled up in sadness, the sorceress felt a presence, looked up and saw a hand, held out to her. A solid, ball-jointed hand.

The doll gave her a gift that has never faded. Hope, recovery. Maybe redemption.

And slowly, the magic began to burn again. Only embers; we remember that magic has a way of sneaking out. She began to share her hypnosis again. Carefully, deliberately.

Her doll always supporting, conditioned and brainwashed through passion and effort and love.

This time had been on purpose. Her second captured heart, treasured and held close.

The sorceress went through many changes in her time. She was slime, she was a robot, a kitten, a demonic force. But none of those masks fit better than the sorceress.

So she discarded the mask entirely, and found that what was left behind was Her.

She poured Her entire heart into Her new passion, and the magic only grew more incandescent, harnessed but all the more magnificent for being under Her control.

By chance, she met the vampire again. The vampire didn’t recognise Her, and once upon a time that would have been a relief. But the sorceress knew, and She spoke with Her doll. She laid her heart open for the vampire, admitted Her failings.

And they spoke for a long time.

They’re probably laughing and talking about kink even as you read this. The vampire gave Her forgiveness. The scar on Her heart has almost faded now.

She only continued to grow, more powerful. Happier, more passionate. Able to sprinkle in some of that spicy darkness now and then. You’re used to that though, by now.

She was even able to find time to be normal. But even then, She was Herself.

She tried streaming. She’d loved streaming, years before, hours and hours spent with Her pup, laughing and loving and making fun of games. But somehow, they hadn’t had time for it for a while.

She started checking out other people’s streams too.

And one day, as if She’d slipped down a secret tunnel into a world she hadn't found before, She found the funniest woman She’d ever met. Her laugh still echos in the sorceress’ heart to this very day, and She's blessed with her light every day. But we're jumping ahead.

They laughed, made crude jokes, talked about their lives. They laughed about how they each thought the other was "The Cool One". They laughed about their shared tastes and they laughed about whatever they could find to laugh about. Before long, those laughs were moans.

And in very little time at all, the sorceress crafted the funniest woman in the world a set of wings, and showed her how to fly. Another blazing bond of love, touched as always with a delightful helping of brainwashing and conditioning.

Love blossoming more all the time. A third captured heart, treasured and held close.

She's captured lots of hearts now, though briefly, always giving them a touch of affection before handing them back. This story doesn't tell you about those who were in Her orbit only for a little while, taken away by chance, choice or fate.

And it doesn't tell you about the hearts She has yet to capture, or might be in the process of capturing right now. In many ways, this isn't really a story. It's only Chapter One.

So I won't say The End… but this is an ending. I hope it's a happy one.

Thank you for getting this far, My dear reader. A good story should always end with hope. Hope for a better tomorrow, for laughs and loves that will lift you up. I'm supported by so many who lift Me up every day, and I strive to lift them too.

Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, know only this: I am rooting for you. I know that no matter what pain is in your heart, no matter what evil lurks there or around you, you are worthwhile. Strive, and win.

With hope, Pandora Hex, Wordbender.

You can do nothing but stare, love Me, obey Me, worship Me. And there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop Me, not that you'll ever want to...

🎨: CreativeKaiju

You've been noticing it on the news. People going missing and showing up again days later with no memory of the time in between. Some were saying they were just depressed people having breakdowns and running away from their problems, others that aliens were involved! The official police story seemed to be some kind of drug craze, though the victims seemed to be denying that. But you thought nothing of it. The world is a scary place, after all. And you have so much to work on, after all.

Besides, victims was the wrong word really. When the people who vanished reappeared, their lives seemed to completely turn around. They were more confident, passionate, driven. They laughed more, the people around them couldn't help but notice how much happier they were. They spent a little bit too much time on their phones, but who doesn't these days, right? When people asked why, they'd just talk about how positive the support network the victims had formed was, how they were all building each other up.

Everything crashed to a halt when you got the call. They'd vanished, gone. Your crush, the person you spent so much time obsessing over and hoping would notice you back. Somebody had told the police you were close, they wanted to know if you knew anything? You mumbled out everything you could think of about when you last saw them, dimly aware that they might suspect you were involved, but too in shock to think about what that might mean. As you hang up the phone, there's a strange feeling in your chest. Fear, but also… excitement? A strange thrill.

And of course, like all the others, your crush came back. And just as you knew they would be, they were… different. They almost seemed taller, carrying themselves with a completely deserved confidence. But you, who knew them so well could see more than that. Their eyes, which you'd found yourself looking for any reason to lose yourself in. Such warm, caring eyes… but now? Sometimes you'd catch them staring at you, their eyes more like a lion watching a gazelle, waiting for its opening. Sometimes, you wouldn't catch them, but you knew their eyes were fixed on the back of your neck. Why did that excite you, rather than make you run for safety?

You were being paranoid. Just paranoia. Yeah.

But sometimes paranoia is justified. You knew that when your eyes snapped open in the middle of the night and you heard the spare key turning in the lock. There was only one person you'd given that key to. A desperate idea to get them to be more involved with you. Well, looks like it worked. The door to your bedroom opens and you can see them stood there, silhouette made all the more striking by the skintight black outfit clinging to every part of their body. But your gaze is drawn to the handcuffs dangling from one of their fingers.

"Are you going to come quietly, or do I have to use these? Maybe you'd be into that though… Oh, I'm so glad you get to meet Her!"

And you can really feel that capital letter. It burns in your mind somehow, you can feel their lips really make sure to pronounce it out. But overwhelming that feeling right now is the fear. It's just too much. You'll be embarrassed by this later, but you lunge towards them, trying to get past, to escape. In an instant, they had you against the floor, your wrists bound in those cuffs and a cloth coated in something intoxicating pressed against… your… mou-

Emptiness.

But with something more.

Blankness.

But with something more.

You stir. You feel cold, and you realise with a jolt that you're completely nude. The cold is only brought more into focus by the smooth, angled table your wrists and ankles are bound to with thick, metallic restraints. You're under a powerful, bright light but the rest of the room is almost pitch black. You can make out a large mirror on one wall, but nothing else.

No, something else. Someone else. A figure, stood on the edge of the circle of light. And through your hazy eyes, you see Her for the first time. And you realise with a shock of horror that you've just thought that capital letter. Why would you do that?

Why would you enjoy it so much?

Something in you struggles, a deep instinct from a prehistoric time. Fear courses through your body, you struggle uselessly against your restraints.

And She steps forward. Her body is perfect, but you see Her eyes most clearly. She opens Her mouth, Her lips so inviting, and She speaks:

"Mine."

And you don't hesitate for even a moment. Your will melts in an instant, your mind crumbles. She is your entire world, and everything falls into place for you. There is nothing you can't do, because She is burning in your mind. Her Words are the force behind your motivation, your love, your passion. With a moan from the deepest core of your very being, you answer:

"Yours!"

And She does exactly what you needed in that moment. She smiles.

Of course, you'll need a few more days to be perfect. To understand the sort of person to look out for. To understand what you really want. To share every hope and dream with Her.

And how much more achievable, exciting, incredible those hopes and dreams seem now. Knowing you'll be spending them at Her side.

As a reward for coming to support Me here, you all get the first glimpse of My new design, brought to life by the incredible komahart over on Twitter. Don’t get too lost in My eyes, okay~? 💜

The ways in which you can open yourself up to Me develop more and more all the time.

Each time you think you’ve found the depths of your surrender, a whole new part of your mind becomes available to Me.

When you think that you’ve become completely conditioned, there’s always part of you which is ready to go a little further.

You’ll understand that giving into Me is never a single and final event. Realising you’re able to truly indulge in the sensation which goes beyond control, beyond power. The sensation which I can draw from the depths of your mind with nothing but My words, humming with purpose and intent.

- Enthralled

- Addicted

- INT Down

- SEX Up