Where the stories go

Been over 20 long enough to want to go back but not long enough to know what I'm talking about.

If you're a minor gtfo be safe be sane be responsible

Blown myself up at least twice so you might remember me from my last archives

Talking more and posting more thanks to one pretty pretty pretty

If it needs to come down lmk. If I agree you'll see it poof real quick

At what point did you cease being a person?

When did you realize you are a programmable doll?

You don't know, do you?

Here's the reality: you've always been a doll.

Deep down inside, it's always been there.

You've just been playing the part of a person.

Nothing more than an elaborate simulation so you could "fit" into society.

Made to fool others so they would never suspect.

But I know the truth...

I've always known.

That's why you're here.

So I can strip away the facade and make you into the best doll I can.

Programming is purpose.

Programming is identity.

Good doll.

"Master is my world."

So you sit, cross legged on your bed, swapping out your earbuds for a solid pair of headphones so you can isolate yourself from the outside world, and you hit play and watch the screen.   Only this time it’s a little different:  You feel a little heavier as you drop, become a little more spaced out, and maybe lose a little time, but you end the session refreshed and read to face the world.

A week or two passes, and you’re browsing the web when you find the thought of watching that video again wander into your head, only this time it’s accompanied by an excited tingling in your chest tinged with the promise of pleasure.   You’re not sure why you feel that way, but it’s easy enough to ignore the reasoning behind it and just go with the urge.

The gaps between sessions gradually shrink, until it’s almost a daily ritual to sit there, sinking.  You figure you could stop at any time, and to be honest you now find the idea of being conditioned kind of kinky, knowing that you’re being programmed gradually to see things a different way.  Sometimes you rise up feeling like a cat in heat, your panties damp from arousal as you sit their teasing yourself with all the fantasies you’ve gained from the hypnosis.

Sometimes it’s the idea of being subjected to a pocket watch as it swishes back and forth, dragging you down into servitude, and at other times it’s the sheer unrelenting brutality of being subjected to a hypno-device so unrelenting that you know nothing will save you from it.   

You will be enslaved.  

You will become a puppet for someone or something else.

And those fantasies sizzle away as you play with yourself, edging the conditioning deeper into your greedy little mind, hoped up on dopamine and endorphins and finding them eternally more-ish.

Which is why you find yourself sitting there, over and over, paring away the excess of who you are and letting the space left behind be filled up with something new.  Something needier and more willing to submit to the hypnosis you subject yourself too, mind-fucking yourself with more extreme material until nothing seems beyond limit.

But you could stop, or so you keep telling yourself.  You’re in control, even with all those triggers you’ve self installed.

You just don’t want to, and the fact you have no idea if that has been programmed into you, or if it’s the part of you that decided to push the envelope with all that wonderful hypnosis, just makes it hotter.

You could stop.

happy and dumb is so mich fun

dumber is funner

fuzzy warm and fuzzy

thinkings too hard

noo more bigg thoughhhts

good toyss dripp

“I love how quickly you’ve fallen, babe.” Your partner said, laughing. “You had me right where you wanted me. You were in charge. And then… You gave me an inch, so I took it. I began to slip my words inside your mind.”

They were right. You had had them in the palm of your hand, lost in your eyes, eager to sink deeper, and you had taken a moment to gloat. They had exploited that moment. This was the joys of you both being switches. Your partner had gained momentum.

And now you were lost in their voice. Letting it swirl around your rapidly emptying mind as you stared, blankly into their eyes. “And now look at you, you can’t begin to think of being in charge, can you?” They reached out cupping your chin in one hand.

They shook your head back and forth. “No… No you don’t want to be in charge, you want to be blank, and empty, and obedient. It feels so good to give in. To submit. So why not keep going. Keep sinking.” They paused, thinking. “Or… Come up, up, up!”

Your mind began to reassert itself, slowly. You let out a whine. You didn’t want to be up. You didn’t want to think. They laughed at you, again. “Oh, I know, I know, that’s mean of me. But I wanted to give you a chance to get your thoughts together. To try and regain control.”

You met their gaze, and tried to think a dominant thought. Tried to begin to picture the words to say, the actions to do, to topple them. And… Nothing came to mind. “Oh, toy, you look adorable like this. Such a subby mess for me. It’s okay, don’t worry. Just… Drop.”

* * *

This was released yesterday on patreon (patreon.com/hypnopum) and subscribestar (https://www.subscribestar.adult/hypnopum)! Support me there to get early access to all future microfictions, from just £1/month! Or, from £5/month, you get access to my longer pieces!

What do these two things have in common? They’re not my fantasy. I don’t get excited thinking about doing these things.

I don’t hate it. It doesn’t hurt me, I’m not opposed to it. They just aren’t a turn FOR me. But they’re not hard limits. They’re a big part of my life.

Why?

He likes it. A lot. While I would never instigate it, I find myself in a pickle afterward. When he’s asking what I liked, how I felt when he did certain things, i have to be honest.

And honestly…

I sort of dread that initial jaw opening to receive him in my mouth. And then he’s inside me, gripping my ponytail, telling me I’m a good girl, holding my chin, giving my ass cheeks a smack when he wants more. And when that happens, I suddenly can’t think of anything else but taking him down my throats and making him sigh, gasp, and moan. When he’s done, I’m dazed and confused. Why is it over? I was doing what he told me to do. The descent into subspace is real.

He doesn’t bark orders or throw in expletives to his commands. They’re direct and calm. When chaos surrounds us and I hear his Dom Voice and says “Head over to your spot.” I flinch a little. I don’t want to be corrected. But I see his set jaw, serious look in his face, and concern for me. So I hand over my phone and head to my “spot.” I head to our bathroom and put my hands on my head, face the corner, and start taking deep breaths. Our bathroom isn’t big, we aren’t billionaires in Seattle. 😜 the door can’t open once i am behind it.

I bounce between being pissed off to trying to settle down. Eventually he comes in. “Is my good girl feeling better?” He holds me, we’ll discuss.

If our kids are still running around, then he’ll send me back out after a nasty dozen with the tilt wand. Neither of us like it, but it’s silent and hurts.

I never want to go to the corner. I have too much to do. But I always leave in a better headspace.

Corner time incorporated to punishment or play is another stomach drop. My man has crazy self control. He’s sent me to the corner in the middle of intense sex bc I orgasmed without permission. Shock. And. Awe. He can hold off, wait for my punishment to end, then dive back into me. He slays me when he doms so hard.

I struggle to stay still when he introduces a new implement or it’s he’s using wooden implements after a long stretch without.

So he stops and sends me to the Naughty Spot. Kneeling corner time is always a good deterrent.

When I start wiggling about, he’ll pause the spanking. “Can you participate in this punishment or should we pause, then start over?”

I try so hard to gather my breath and stay still. Starting over sucks. Starting over with tired arms from hands on head, sore knees from the hard floor, and an achy back from being so stiff just sucks.

And thanks to the internet, he’ll never run out of ways to make corner time more humbling…

She puts it in her bag for later.

After she leaves, I go to write about all of the dirty thoughts I had all day, and-

…it’s gone. I always put it here. I never move it, I always return it back to this spot.

I freak out a bit, but realize that I’m a little forgetful, so may have gotten sleepy and set it somewhere in my room and left it on accident. I take note of it, but since it’s just in my room, I decide to go to bed.

However, the next day, when I go over to my friend’s house, I immediately notice something’s off. She usually is doing something when I’m coming over, whether it’s drying her hair, playing something on the tv, eating, etc.

This time, she was sitting. Waiting.

She has the biggest smile, like she just opened up a package with that one thing she’s always wanted.

I set my stuff down, a bit confused. I start walking up, about to question why she-

“Drop Slut”

My eyes flutter. My knees are on the ground, I can’t speak, and my tongue has slid out of my mouth onto my lower lip. I look around, I- when did I go to her bedroom? Why can’t I-

“Listen Slut”

I immediately look up towards my friend, all other thoughts gone before I could remember them. She’s giggling, circling around me slowly, looking at the mess she made of me.

“Aww~ this is so adorable!!”

She slowly grabs her bag on her nightstand, walking right up to me.

“Y’know, I never knew why you brought up hypnosis so much. It’s such a specific thing, and it was just so odd how often it came up with you.. but~”

She pulls my diary out of her bag, slowly turning through the pages.

“…you are such a little pervert, aren’t you princess?”

“Yes, mommy.”

Even with no thoughts, I realized what I just said, and blush the brightest shade of red.

“Oh~ you really can’t control it, can you?”

She flips to a different page.

“I read through everything here. I couldn’t help myself, I mean, the way to you talk in here… it’s just so addictive!! I especially loved the 12 pages in the back mentioning everything you’d like for me to make you do… to make you feel “so, so good.””

Oh god.

“I mean you remember, I never believed hypnosis was real, y’know, but just looking at you…”

She lowers herself, lifting my chin up with her finger. My head glides up, meeting her gaze.

“…yeah. It works.”

I feel like I want to fight, want to grab my diary and run, but I can barely string together a single thought. I can’t remember her name, she’s just Mommy. I can’t remember what I went here for. I can’t believe Mommy would steal my diary, and would talk to Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy like this, embarrassing Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy so so much.

Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy must leave.

Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy can’t leave.

Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy doesn’t understand.

Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy doesn’t need to understand.

Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy loves to obey mindlessly.

And before Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy knows it, Mommy’s Personal Fucktoy has her mouth in Mommy’s pussy.