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"Do you know what's happening to you?" The question comes at Anna from an impossible distance, a million million miles away from the focus of her attention, and it feels like it takes an eternity for her to even realize that she needs to answer it, let alone what the answer is. The spiral's simply so captivating, so all-consumingly fascinating, that everything outside it telescopes away into irrelevance and makes her unsure if a world outside its hypnotic influence ever even existed. She's blinking perhaps twice a minute now, and every minute is like an hour inside her blank and muddled brain, and she almost forgets what Kent asked her by the time she opens her mouth to reply.

But something deep inside Anna snaps into obedience while her consciousness is tumbling into the heart of the spiral, and she hears herself drone out, "Yes, Master. You're fucking me in the ass, Master." Funnily enough, she notices the utterly drained and lifeless monotone she speaks in before she notices the cock that's been plowing her ass for… for a while now… and even though the anal stimulation is intense enough to make her empty cunt clench and leak and desperately spasm around nothing, it's honestly the total absence of self-awareness that Anna pays the most attention. She must be so deep in the spiral, she absently muses, the lone thought floating detached in the void with nothing to connect to. She must be so lost in hypnosis that she can't possibly resist it anymore.

It should be shocking to her that she's lying on the table in the big conference room, legs up and ass filled by Kent's stiff prick, but the spiral swallows up all those emotions before they even have a chance to register and Anna feels only a numb indifference to her own subjugation that floats over a constant background hum of pleasure at the base of her mind. When Kent asks her, "You like being fucked in the ass, don't you, pretty girl?" she doesn't even really contemplate the question--it drifts somewhere past her conscious awareness, connecting with a deep reservoir of hypnotic conditioning that Anna can only understand by implication. She knows the answer to that question with a deep and helpless conviction, just like she knows she doesn't need to wear panties under her skirt anymore, and she can infer from that what's been done to her but she doesn't actually have any memory of it.

So she simply responds, "Yes, Master, I like being f-fucked in the ass, Master," and if the pleasure pulsing away in the back of her mind intensifies so powerfully that she has trouble getting the words out she still doesn't feel any corresponding increase in her emotional responses. She's close to cumming from anal stimulation alone, and it all feels so good that it's permanently stretching open whatever orifice in her subconscious makes her susceptible to Kent's programming, but she still doesn't feel any particular way about it. The only thing she actually cares about is sinking deeper and deeper into the spiral and finding whatever it is that's waiting for her at the center of the center of the center, and Kent can do whatever he wants to her in the meantime. It's interesting, in an abstract way.

He finally finishes inside her, minutes or hours or possibly even years after he first pushed his cock past her tender rosebud and into her tight ass, and Anna thanks him dutifully for fucking and brainwashing her before she clambers down off the table and straightens her skirt. She feels a last little spasm of amazement on realizing that once again she's going to put all of this out of her mind so easily and effortlessly, everything from the lingering soreness to the missing time to the semen filling her rectum, and then the spiral winks out and all that awareness winks out right along with it. And with a vacant smile, Anna leaves the conference room to resume her day.

"S-sorry, I… I don't know why I'm here." It was an embarrassing admission to make, and Jessamine was glad her dark brown skin hid her furious blush--bad enough that she apparently knew where her boss lived, which felt kind of stalkery to her even though she thought she was managing her crush on the older white man pretty successfully all things considered, but to just show up at his house unannounced on a Saturday? Not for a work-related reason, not even on some cunning pretext, but with her jaw hanging slack in confusion and her hand still perched in the air like she'd forgotten to lower it after knocking? God, he had to think she was a total weirdo. She stood there anxiously, waiting for Blake to say something so she could slink back to her car and end this whole awkward interaction.

Instead, he smiled and said, "I think we both know why you're here, Jess," before undoing his fly and pulling out his surprisingly familiar-looking cock. Jessamine's eyes fixated on it instantly, and her hand dropped to her side like a puppet with cut strings as her whole face went vacant and expressionless. She nodded, but it wasn't a motion that conveyed thought or meaning--it was simply the automatic and unquestioning reflex of a woman who wanted to agree more than she wanted to stir her sluggish brain into cognition, because it felt good to agree with Blake. It made her happy, and she walked through the door without the slightest hint of consideration. It was just too easy to give in and obey.

He walked her into the living room, sitting down on an easy chair and looking at her expectantly, and he didn't need to say even a single word before Jessamine was sliding her skirt down her spreading hips and wide, jiggling ass. It was just what she did when she came over to Blake's house, and she came over to Blake's house just about every day now, and she did all those things because he'd spent the last year hypnotizing her at work in all those one-on-one meetings her mind simply skimmed over and Jessamine only remembered all that when she was staring at his cock in anticipation of bouncing up and down on it. She smiled at the foolishness of her waking self for thinking her crush was anything more than the tip of a virtual iceberg of brainwashing.

She turned around and squatted onto Blake's dick reverse cowgirl style, knowing with the quiet certainty of the deeply conditioned that what got him off more than anything was watching her ass bounce and shake and quiver while she rose up and down on his shaft. He was going to cum inside her, Jessamine realized distantly, and the only reason she wasn't already pregnant with his baby was because he was using denial to make her absolutely crave a swollen belly and big milky tits, and Jessamine was sure that by this time next year he'd have easily broken her resistance and turned her into his brood mare. That was when she would quit her job and move in with him full-time and already she was actually looking forward to her total dependence on him.

She heard the door to the kitchen opening, and for a moment she froze in an attempt to somehow find a way to conceal her activities. But thankfully it was just Blake's wife Tracy, coming in to watch, and Jessamine's brain settled even deeper into trance when the pretty blonde white woman gave her a deep, passionate kiss on the lips while Jessamine fucked her husband. "That's a good girl," she cooed, and the surge of pleasure Jessamine experienced made it even easier to obey.

It was when she felt Lorna's soft lips pressing into the small of her back that Jen finally knew that events had fully slipped out of her control, and yet she'd never been happier to be helpless. The older woman's gentle kisses, traveling up her spine and not down and making Jen's cunt throb so hard she knew she was making a mess of the hotel bedspread, simply felt too good and excited her too much to even imagine saying anything as boring as 'stop'. Instead she simply lay there, eyes closed, sighing in anticipation as she fully yielded herself to whatever Lorna was planning and let her thoughts tumble into dreamy, passive vacancy.

None of this was where she originally thought the weekend was going to go, even though it probably looked embarrassingly obvious to anyone giving so much as a glance in her direction over the course of her first day at the ski resort. Jen's friends had all canceled on her at the last minute for a variety of unrelated reasons, leaving her--the worst skier of the bunch--as the only one of the group up out there that weekend; and a full morning of failing on the bunny slopes had left every single muscle wrung out and sore even as she sat by herself with nothing but a cup of hot chocolate to keep her company. The cute boys her friends had promised her failed to materialize, and things were honestly getting kind of awful before Lorna showed up to talk to her.

And the older woman's charm offensive easily melted Jen into surrender. She found herself staring for longer and longer stretches into the older woman's bright blue eyes, nodding thoughtlessly and sipping her cocoa while Lorna drew out all the details of her unexpectedly disastrous vacation and expressed every bit of the sympathy the aching brunette secretly craved. When she saw Jen wincing as she shifted position, Lorna offered to take her back up to the hotel room for a rubdown with some liniment, and that was about the point when Jen began to suspect she might wind up hooking up with another woman even though she wasn't entirely sure until she got naked and lay prone on the bed. By then it was pretty hard to disguise.

But it was still one thing to know she was going to wind up having sex, and another to feel those strong fingers gently but firmly caressing Jen's legs and ass and back and shoulders until her whole body tingled with released endorphins. Lorna never did get around to cracking out the liniment, probably because it was fairly obvious she'd be kissing and licking so much of the skin she was massaging, and Jen's pussy betrayed her so badly that when Lorna sat up she could actually see the wet spot spreading on the covers. That was when something in her voice changed, becoming sultry and seductive and lulling Jen into a state of helplessness that made her deliciously vulnerable to anything the older woman wanted to do to her.

Right now that was kiss after kiss after slow, sensual kiss, right up to the nape of Jen's neck as she lay there trembling and whimpering and gasping out tight, shuddering breaths. Jen couldn't actually remember when Lorna had gotten naked--little details kept vanishing into warm, wet pulses of pure lust--but she could feel the other woman's bare skin brush against hers, and the final descent into thoughtless arousal came when Lorna crawled up far enough to rest her thigh against Jen's dripping cunt. Helplessly, mindlessly, Jen found herself beginning to hump it.

"Come on, baby girl," Master coaxed, his voice soft and warm and sadistically patient. "We both know what you want, and we both know the only way you're going to get it. Just make that pretty ahegao face for me like a good pet, and your deep self will give you that big hard cummie a slut like you needs so badly, and then you can go back to being smart, boring Jessie again if you want to." Jessie knew it would be a mistake to comply with his command, she really did. But once you were naked in front of a webcam, clutching a huge massaging vibrator between your thighs while you struggled to cum and discovered all over again that a post-hypnotic suggestion was holding back your climax, it was already too late to be worrying about poor decision-making.

But that was exactly what held Jessie back from crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue in an expression of performative stupefaction. She already knew she'd conceded so much to her online hypnotist, given away so many aspects of the identity she supposedly clung to of academic overachiever, that if she had to see herself in the corner of the screen giving that dumb ahegao face as she came it would kind of break her a little. And although she didn't know exactly how much difference there was between a slut who showed off her tits to a man she'd never met while she masturbated herself stupid in a helpless trance and the same slut doing the same thing only with an implicit admission of her utter dependence, she knew it would be a bad idea to find out.

Master made all those bad ideas sound so enticing, though. "Honey, we both know that the longer this goes on, the weaker you get," he purred, the affectionate condescension in his voice hitting Jessie's clit almost harder than the buzz of the vibrator. "All that teasing is just burning through your resistance, using it up more and more with every passing second, until the inevitable happens and you just need to cum too bad to fight it anymore. Why not just give up now and get that cummie right away like a good girl, hmm? Why not just do what Master says and then you can decide whether you want to keep playing?" Jessie knew it didn't work like that. She knew that once she got that first taste of hypnotic ecstasy she'd wind up craving more, just like last time. But she also knew how wet she was.

Because that was the hell of it--at this point there were no alternatives for her. She couldn't imagine working up the nerve to ask Master to take out the hypnotic blocks on her orgasm, and she couldn't imagine just giving up on cumming for however long it took for them to fade naturally. Hell, she wasn't even able to bring herself to take the toy away from her pussy, and that was only the first step to decoupling herself from the insidious web of hypnotic conditioning that was gradually turning her into a brainless, drooling slut the way she secretly craved. She either made the face, or she sat there simmering in endless, maddening lust until she broke down and made the face. Master was right, the longer she fought him the worse it got.

Until she broke the way she always broke, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue like a dumb slut. She hid her face as soon as the orgasm hit, looking down so Master wouldn't see her cheeks reddening in a fierce blush, but they both knew what she'd just done… and they both knew what she'd do again. Because Jessie was too weak to fight him anymore, and the ahegao was only the beginning of her descent into brainwashed, stupefied bliss.

Hypnovember 11 - Spread

He took a sip of his drink and gazed out at the crowd. It was starting to get late at the club but there was still a packed enough to where he didn't feel like leaving. As he scanned the group, he noticed there were a couple people in the corner dressed head to toe in a shiny black material with a gasmask on over their head that blocked their faces entirely.

While the club had a relatively small but active kink scene and this wasn't an overly uncommon sight, they usually came out much later and seeing them made the hair on his neck stand up. The crowd milling around made it hard to keep an eye on them and he quickly lost track of them but didn't think too much on it and went back to his drink.

A little while later, he caught sight of them again only this time there were a small crowd of the rubberclad men where there had only been a couple before. Again his internal alarm went off but he was far enough into his drink that he wasn't really hearing it all that well.

The group was large enough it was a bit easier to keep track of now and he watched as the drones seemed to approach people at random and could see that a few moments after they approached the other person would seem to relax, their arms relaxed and they took on an almost dazed stance. The drone would them turn and walk them back through a door surrounded by the main group of the rubber drones.

Time went on and he watched more and more men go into the room but only ever saw the drones come out, he kept waiting to see if anyone was going to come out but after quite some time, none ever did, at least in the same form that they entered that is.

With a sudden realization that he had been passively staring at them for quite some time, he noticed that the group had grown quite large while he was distracted. Almost everyone in the club was either being approached by a drone, or already one.

He figured it was time to leave and go up to head out. He turned around toward the door and found himself face to face with one of the gasmasked drones but before he could say anything he smelled the intense scent of rubber hit him. The smell made his mind swim and almost immediately he felt his entire body and mind relax. He seemed to float away in an instant. He heard something saw "FOLLOW" and mindlessly followed the drone, wading through the crowd of rubberclad drones toward the back room.

Francine honestly had no idea who Lizzy was when she walked up. The memories of what Delores did to the voluptuous young woman--what Francine had helped her do, in fact--now slept with a host of other memories somewhere deep down in Francine's obedient subconscious, and the only thought that popped into her head when she saw the big-titted bleach blonde with the perky grin heading in the direction of the workout machines was that she looked almost cartoonishly sexy. She was wearing shorts that fit her like a second skin and a sleeveless tee that showed off each and every last jiggle of her heavy breasts, and Francine almost assumed she was daydreaming when Lizzy came right over to her and said, "Oh my gawd! We're such pushovers for hypnosis, aren't we, Frankie?"

That was when it all came back to her with a shock of familiarity, just as Lizzy pulled up her shirt to expose a pair of tits that instantly numbed Francine's brain to all the emotions that should have washed through her on realizing she'd helped turn another human being into a giggly, perky plaything whose every aesthetic decision was geared toward making her more sexually desirable. The only thing that mattered was those huge breasts, consuming more and more of Francine's attention until she barely heard herself mumble, "We're totez pushovers for hypnosis, Lizzy." The warm, happy feelings expanding in her mind came out as a series of bright, bubbly giggles, and she knew without really being able to think about it that she was probably done exercising for today.

Lizzy pulled down her shirt, but it didn't matter--Francine had those breasts fixed in her memory now, capturing her will just as surely as they had all the other times Lizzy stopped by to show off her progress under Delores's meticulous instruction. It always made Francine unnerved and aroused in equal measures; if not for all the other people who knew about Francine's vulnerability to hypnosis, she might have wound up being shaped and molded to her study partner's desires as completely and thoroughly as Lizzy was. Fuzzy little Frankie got a happy head whenever Lizzy or Delores tugged on the leash inside her mind, but Lizzy? She'd been Delores's pet project for maybe two weeks now, and she already looked like a parody of vapid, bubbly femininity. Within a month she might well forget her own name.

And she had… oh fuck, she had such a hold on Francine. The two of them left the gym together, holding hands and giggling as Francine followed her fellow submissive's summons back to Delores and the promise of another afternoon threesome, and as soon as they were alone together Lizzy's clothes came off and Francine's thoughts popped like champagne bubbles leaving behind only a delightful fizz of ecstasy. "I'm so glad you could make some time to help me train Lizzy some more, Frankie," Delores cooed as her fingers drifted down between her thighs, and even though Francine knew Delores didn't need any help it still made her clit throb to think about brainwashing someone deeper into obedience.

It turned Lizzy on too, or at least that was what it felt like when they wriggled up to one another and began to scissor their cunts together. "Oh, f-fuck, wanna be a good girl," Lizzy squeaked happily, and even though Francine told herself she should be fighting this she also knew she didn't even know where to begin. The two good girls giggled each other helplessly from one climax to the next, until their bubbly brains were weak and wet and eager to be programmed.

"I--I, um--I was, was, um…." Cindee couldn't say she was thinking, not when her brain felt all mushy and her clit throbbed away her mind and she kept drifting off into distracted blankness while she rubbed her oiled-up tits all over Master's cock, but she had to find some way to talk about the vague and confused questions running through her head. So after a long, muddled pause, she mumbled, "I was, um, wondering," and finished up her laughable attempt at a sentence with, "Did I, uhh, always want to be your titslave?" It felt foolish to even ask, both because the answer seemed so obvious and because she sounded so dazed and dopey even to herself when she spoke, but Master favored her with an indulgent smile and she knew she was being a good girl for bringing it up.

"Of course you did," he cooed gently to her, his cock twitching against Cindee's ample breasts as she raised and lowered herself around his stiff and throbbing prick. "You probably don't remember because you were very confused back then, but deep down inside you knew from the very second you saw me that you were really just a pair of tits for Master and the best thing to do was to listen and obey while I explained it all to you." Cindee was pretty sure she wasn't confused back then, and in fact her memories of that time were the closest she got to lucidity anymore… but thinking about how it was really her old self that was confused because she didn't know how good it felt to be a dumb horny fucktoy only confused Cindee further. So she smiled brightly and nodded and that felt better.

And thankfully Master kept explaining it further, because he could tell Cindee was just smiling and nodding because she wanted to agree and not because she really understood. "See, sweetie, every person has a surface self, the one who goes around doing all the surface thinking, but they also have a deep self that's what makes them who they are. And your surface self, the girl who thought she was smart and strong and clever, she listened to all the people who told her she should work hard and pay her bills and be a grown-up. But your deep self looked at me and said, 'Oh thank god. This is a man who knows I'm just a pair of tits and won't make me think anymore,' and it knew right away it wanted to help me make you a dumb horny titslave. Remember?"

Cindee's mouth hung open for a long moment as she stared down her vague, fuzzy memories of her first meeting with Master, back when she still thought he was just Andrew Ellington and she really thought she did want to be strong and smart and grown-up… but the waves of pleasure that washed over her whenever she imagined her subconscious clocking the bulge in his trousers and subverting her resistance to his hypnotic talents simply sapped away the strength from those recollections until they became soft and pliable and easy to manipulate. Cindee must have always wanted to be a titslave. She just didn't know she knew because her surface mind kept cluttering things up until Master silenced it. "Oh, uhh, yeah," she mumbled, fully aware that she sounded like a total brainless airhead now whenever she spoke. "I guess I always wanted to be your titslave."

That must have made Master happy, because he spurted a gush of cum that splashed all the way up against the underside of Cindee's chin and practically coated her heavy breasts, and Cindee's eyes rolled back in her head as the awareness of his pleasure triggered a potent and profound orgasm for her. That washed away the last few questions in her head, and when she managed to refocus her gaze she looked fully vapid and mindless and eager to please--just in time to begin scooping the jizz off her tits with her fingers and licking it away like a good slave for Master.

Nola was still fighting it. At least notionally she was still fighting it, although you couldn't really tell because she'd very passively allowed Shawnee to undress her and Sam to lay her back on the bed with her legs spread out as wide as they would go to let him stick his dick into her--but she still hadn't cum, and that was something. That was really the only thing, honestly; she could feel the storm of pleasure gathering in the back of her mind and the part of her that had soaked up all that brainwashing knew that cumming around Sam's cock was the final trigger that would complete her subjugation. If she could hold that back, she would keep resisting at least a little.

If she didn't… well, Nola didn't need to look very far to see what would happen to her. Shawnee was lying right there next to her, petting Nola's breasts and belly and murmuring encouragement to her as she got closer and closer to the climax that would utterly destroy her willpower forever. "It's going to feel so good when you cum, honey," her best friend cooed--the same best friend who'd been secretly playing hypnosis recordings to her while she slept for weeks, the same best friend who had put all the programming into Nola's head that she was fighting against and failing, but Nola couldn't find fault in her for that. Not when half her mind, or maybe two-thirds of her mind, or three-quarters if she was being strictly honest, wanted to do the same thing to her friends too.

But she was still resisting those impulses, still fighting the good fight to be a strong and independent woman and not a mindless fucktoy even though the difference would probably be difficult to spot with the naked eye right now, and so long as she didn't cum that would remain the status quo for at least a little while longer. So even though she was so close, right up there on the edge and holding back her orgasm only through a titanic act of will, she continued to fight. Even though her face was flushed with arousal. Even though she couldn't think of anything anymore but the cock pounding her pussy and the hand gently pressing to her throat. Even though Shawnee kept murmuring, "It feels better than a regular orgasm, babe. It feels better than anything."

And that was the hell of it, the trick that made her so much weaker and so much wetter and so fucking desperate to give in and obey. The longer she denied her climax, the needier Nola got and the harder it became to deny herself the final, culminating ecstasy of sinking into submission forever. Staying right there, on the edge, held back only by an act of will as the man she knew was her Master fucked her with thrust after relentless thrust, it felt like running up a warped wall--the further she got, the steeper it became, until the point where she had to believe she'd inevitably slide all the way down to the bottom. And when it did…. Nola let out a choked whimper, her orgasm approaching an infinitesimal distance closer inside her mind.

"You're never going to want anything more than this, babe," Shawnee intoned, but it was too late--Nola could feel Sam stiffening and straining inside her, his balls tightening as he dumped spurt after spurt of sticky semen into her unprotected pussy, and Shawnee felt a dazed sense of despair instead of triumph as she realized she'd won. She'd managed to outlast him, fighting herself free even though it would look to an outsider like she was lying limp on the bed with jizz dripping out of her messy cunt, and she remained free… or so she thought until the part of her that was ready to be enslaved knelt at Sam's feet and nuzzled his cock in a desperate effort to get him hard enough to fuck again.

Nola was still fighting it. At least notionally she was still fighting it, although you couldn't really tell because she'd very passively allowed Shawnee to undress her and Sam to lay her back on the bed with her legs spread out as wide as they would go to let him stick his dick into her--but she still hadn't cum, and that was something. That was really the only thing, honestly; she could feel the storm of pleasure gathering in the back of her mind and the part of her that had soaked up all that brainwashing knew that cumming around Sam's cock was the final trigger that would complete her subjugation. If she could hold that back, she would keep resisting at least a little.

If she didn't… well, Nola didn't need to look very far to see what would happen to her. Shawnee was lying right there next to her, petting Nola's breasts and belly and murmuring encouragement to her as she got closer and closer to the climax that would utterly destroy her willpower forever. "It's going to feel so good when you cum, honey," her best friend cooed--the same best friend who'd been secretly playing hypnosis recordings to her while she slept for weeks, the same best friend who had put all the programming into Nola's head that she was fighting against and failing, but Nola couldn't find fault in her for that. Not when half her mind, or maybe two-thirds of her mind, or three-quarters if she was being strictly honest, wanted to do the same thing to her friends too.

But she was still resisting those impulses, still fighting the good fight to be a strong and independent woman and not a mindless fucktoy even though the difference would probably be difficult to spot with the naked eye right now, and so long as she didn't cum that would remain the status quo for at least a little while longer. So even though she was so close, right up there on the edge and holding back her orgasm only through a titanic act of will, she continued to fight. Even though her face was flushed with arousal. Even though she couldn't think of anything anymore but the cock pounding her pussy and the hand gently pressing to her throat. Even though Shawnee kept murmuring, "It feels better than a regular orgasm, babe. It feels better than anything."

And that was the hell of it, the trick that made her so much weaker and so much wetter and so fucking desperate to give in and obey. The longer she denied her climax, the needier Nola got and the harder it became to deny herself the final, culminating ecstasy of sinking into submission forever. Staying right there, on the edge, held back only by an act of will as the man she knew was her Master fucked her with thrust after relentless thrust, it felt like running up a warped wall--the further she got, the steeper it became, until the point where she had to believe she'd inevitably slide all the way down to the bottom. And when it did…. Nola let out a choked whimper, her orgasm approaching an infinitesimal distance closer inside her mind.

"You're never going to want anything more than this, babe," Shawnee intoned, but it was too late--Nola could feel Sam stiffening and straining inside her, his balls tightening as he dumped spurt after spurt of sticky semen into her unprotected pussy, and Shawnee felt a dazed sense of despair instead of triumph as she realized she'd won. She'd managed to outlast him, fighting herself free even though it would look to an outsider like she was lying limp on the bed with jizz dripping out of her messy cunt, and she remained free… or so she thought until the part of her that was ready to be enslaved knelt at Sam's feet and nuzzled his cock in a desperate effort to get him hard enough to fuck again.

Nora stared down at the hands kneading and groping the flesh of her heavy tits through her sweater, her muddled mind swimming with confusion as she tried to figure out exactly where and when events had slipped off the track she associated with normality. Her neighbor Elle squeezed and squashed the soft, sensitive breasts, murmuring, "Oh, honey, I'm glad you came to me, you have so much sexual tension built up in these," as though that was a real and physical condition every bit as treatable as a sore shoulder or a stiff elbow, and the strangest thing of all about the entire thing was that a part of Nora simply accepted the ludicrous excuse without question.

She hadn't always been this gullible, had she? Nora almost wanted to ask, but she had a vague suspicion that if she did Elle would only tell her that of course she had and she'd have no choice but to believe that unquestioningly as well. So she struggled to puzzle it out for herself, despite knowing that she was starting with a serious and possibly insurmountable handicap when it came to making sense of it all and even if she did, it didn't mean that she'd manage to snap out of her fugue state and assert some kind of agency over the situation. She couldn't be sure that anything would help her think clearly, not when her tits were tingling all over and her lips kept parting in slack, captivated arousal and Elle cooed softly, "Don't worry, we'll get all those big strong feelings massaged out, I promise."

It definitely didn't feel like something that could have just happened today, she knew that much. There was no point in the conversation when Elle persuaded Nora to come stand in front of her and offer up her chest to the older woman's strong, confident caresses, and her reaction to being treated like a piece of livestock didn't betray any kind of shock or dismay that would suggest this to be unexpected on her part. She just let it all happen, the stirring bewilderment at the base of her brain smoothed away into abstract intellectual curiosity by the feeble excuses Elle so casually offered up, and that meant she was… what? Brainwashed? Conditioned? Trained to give herself up whenever Elle wanted to play with her tits? Nora examined her emotions and found the idea only made her pussy wet and tingly.

That didn't sound normal, and yet it felt perfectly reasonable to her. She couldn't think of a single reason why she wouldn't want to let Elle play with her big cow udders, or for that matter why she wouldn't refer to them as 'her big cow udders' instead of her tits or her jugs or her sweater puppies…. Nora's jaw went slack with confusion as she struggled to find a word for her own body parts that didn't sound degrading or demeaning and found only more and more lewd synonyms in response. She'd definitely been reshaped, her mind subtly but vastly altered to think of herself as a sexual object, but every time Nora tried to pierce the fog clouding her brain she only found more fog behind it. Until she was drooling onto her big boobs and her lips were curling into a vacant, thoughtless grin. Until she had no choice but to obey.

"There's a good girl," Elle purred, watching as Nora's whole body shuddered in an orgasmic gasp that only left her more aroused and eager to be used. "Let's go back to the bedroom and get those silly clothes off, shall we?" Unable to think of a reason to say no, Nora nodded and followed along.

George legitimately couldn't think of a more embarrassing way to find out his new girlfriend had mild hearing loss. It wasn't like he could really talk to her about it now that he knew, either; it would mean having to explain to Trisha how he found out, and he didn't think she would take well to discovering that he'd planted hidden speakers in her bedroom that played subliminal behavior-altering brainwashing messages to her while she slept. He'd simply have to live with the unintentional changes he made and hope he was the only one who noticed how weird she was acting.

Which, well… at least some of it could probably just be written off as a burst of weird creativity. Trisha always did fancy herself something of a poet, and she'd even contributed to a few small press journals and anthologies, so the fact that she now came into the room saying things like, "Flames dance on water, a burning light never dies, extinguish it not," before miming a mic drop and walking back out again was probably just being taken as her getting enthusiastic about her experiments with a new form of poetry. They didn't understand, because they didn't have the same context George did, that it was Trisha's IQ that was supposed to drop more and more with every night of hypnotized slumber.

Some other aspects of her changed personality were thankfully reserved for him and him alone. He'd been careful to ensure that she'd only dress in sexy, revealing outfits when the two of them were alone together--one of the suggestions that did appear to take as planned was her newfound desire to move in with him, so there were plenty of opportunities for her to wear her new handmade bead bikinis. It was only when he got a good whiff of her body that he realized Trisha was in fact wearing her sluttiest cloves for him, and by then it just didn't seem worth the laborious and complex effort it would take to recalibrate her mind. Especially because it wasn't as though he could just turn up the volume on the subliminals and call it good.

Still, it was frustrating to watch Trisha's eyes glaze over every time they had a little privacy, only for her to take a piece of smooth, river-washed granite from her purse and pop it into her mouth with every sign of orgasmic enjoyment. She definitely loved sucking rocks, it really gave her intense sexual pleasure, but he couldn't help feeling like he was missing out on everything he hoped to enjoy from his newly brainwashed sex slave. Especially when she mumbled indistinctly, "Clouds chase the wild sky, they seek the far horizon, who knows what they find?" around the stone tucked against her tongue. It was legitimately unfair.

Still, it was good for her health. Trisha liked Tofurkey now, far more than most meat products, and a vegetarian diet was doing wonders for her figure. It just made it all the more frustrating that she was still something of a prude, despite her penchant for wearing clove bikinis, and he wished that just one of his suggestions could have taken the way he intended. But all he could do with his new live-in girlfriend was smile and nod every time she cooked for him, admitting that yes, her hash was very pretty but he wasn't hungry right now.

"Hhhh, hhh, hi, Dale," Nicole managed to pant out, her breath understandably in short supply as she pulled her mouth up and off her husband's stiff cock to greet their mutual fuckbuddy. "Um, yeah, just, uhh, just leave your clothes anywhere, you know where everything is, and, um… and could you come over here and fuck me? God, I don't know what it is, but ever since I started showing I've been just fucking insatiable." Insatiable didn't even begin to cover it, honestly--she could literally feel a trickle of natural lubrication dribbling in a steady stream from her sopping cunt, and she could only imagine what she looked like crouching down on all fours like a bitch in heat before Dale even walked through the door.

Not to mention, even if it had kicked into a new gear once her belly bump began to develop, Nicole knew full damn well she'd been fucking non-stop horny pretty much from the instant she discovered she was expecting. They'd been trying for a kid for almost a year now, using ovulation trackers and precisely-timed sex and guided visualization techniques Jim got out of some sketchy book called 'Hypnotize Yourself Pregnant', and one of the many different frustrations she experienced was the need to put a pause on trying their first threesome to make sure she was in the right physical and emotional space to conceive. Taking their foot off the brake on that, combined with the wonderful realization that she could take it raw from any partner who tested negative for STDs pretty much consequence-free, had left her cunt drooling for a solid four months now and all their friends knew it.

Especially Dale, who'd probably been over to their place more times in the last four months than in the preceding six years. "God you're fucking wet," he gasped out as he slid into her, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure, and Nicole looked behind her just long enough to watch the expression of overwhelmed and helpless arousal on his face before she turned around and engulfed her husband's cock with her lips again before it could soften. Seeing someone lose track of everything besides sex and fucking was another thing that was getting Nicole super goddamn horny these days, as though it reminded her of some delicious memory she couldn't quite touch, and it wasn't long before she was being rocked back and forth between the two pricks in objectified ecstasy.

She'd never been this turned on before, not during the months they tried for a baby and not during the period of sexual experimentation that preceded it… although it was odd, so many of their new partners said they thought Nicole was a total prude before she got pregnant and started inviting every man she knew into her claimed and occupied cunt. But she knew that was absurd, she had distinct and vivid memories of wanting to own her inner slut for years now--memories every bit as clear and distinct as the guided visualizations of fertilization Jim had taken her through, in fact. Hell, even those got her pussy wet; something about thinking of herself as a receptacle for cocks and cum just made her so, so fucking, so f-fucking--

Nicole's eyes rolled back in her head until only the whites showed as her first climax hit. There was something intensely, intuitively familiar about the sensation, but she couldn't think about that right now--the only thing she was thinking about was making her partners cum the same way she had. And when she did, her conditioning only deepened.

Isometrics. That was the word that kept floating back into Blair's head, even as her other thoughts became increasingly quiet and still while she stared at the swaying pendant and sank into a deep, drifting trance--it was a form of exercise where the muscles contracted without changing length, keeping the joints still while everything capable of moving them pushed and pulled against one another in perfectly balanced tension. The result was complete immobility no matter how much you were straining on the inside, because what you were really fighting against was yourself. She was a professional bodybuilder with several competitions under her belt, so the concept was very familiar to her.

And it was happening to her now. Oh, it was Charles holding the pendant, and it was his voice enticing her to sink into a state of dissociated focus on its sparkling, swinging gem, but Blair understood that what she was really fighting was her own subconscious. Trance was relaxing to her, trance was erotic, and the promise of surrender within the glittering depths of that pretty pink crystal called to her with pulse after pulse of pleasure shooting straight down between her thighs, and the part of Blair that understood why she shouldn't give in was straining and struggling not against the hypnotist but against her own desire to submit to control. It turned out to be so much stronger than she'd ever realized.

Soon she was nodding blankly, rising from the chair just long enough to robotically strip off her own clothing before sinking back down into her seat and back down deeper into trance right along with it. She felt a little sheepish about her skin tone--she'd been spending a lot of her time in the gym lately, getting ready for an upcoming competition, and when she looked in the mirror she couldn't help noticing her fish-belly white complexion. But obviously Charles looked delighted by every inch of her exposed body, and soon Blair felt an enticing and irresistible compulsion in the back of her mind to spread her legs for him and show off her bare, smooth cunt.

That brought isometrics back to the center of her dazed and drowsy mind, this time in a more literal sense, as her whole body froze in a position that put her on lewd and lascivious display for her new Master. She could feel every muscle straining to its utmost, providing Blair with the convincing illusion of resistance as well as showing off her impressive build, but she knew better because she knew exactly how this kind of exercise worked--everything was balanced in dynamic tension against itself, pushing and pulling with precisely equal strength, and the person truly holding her helpless as a statue was her. And the person who was making her cunt wetter and wetter with that demonstration of complete and total vulnerability was also her.

But the person who walked over to lightly tease her soaking pussy, gently running his fingers over her smooth slick labia in a caress that elicited a strangled grunt from her otherwise paralyzed vocal cords? That was Charles. He was the only one in the room who could give her the release her frozen body increasingly craved, and even though she couldn't move or speak or even close her blankly staring eyes Blair tried her best to plead silently for more. Because she'd been pitted against herself this entire time… and feeling the throb in her swollen clit, Blair knew exactly which side she wanted to win.

"…the kids?" It was a stupid thing to say under the circumstances, barely even qualifying as a sentence, but it was the only thing Debbie could think to blurt out in light of the shocking tableau that greeted her as she walked through the door into the Favreaux residence. Lorna was sitting on the couch waiting for her, completely naked with her legs spread wide and an expression of lascivious anticipation on her features, and the sight of her curvy body stunned just about every last thought out of Debbie's head. All she could do was stare at the slight sag in Lorna's breasts, the modest pooch of her belly, all the little details that told her this wasn't a fantasy. It was real.

Lorna chuckled. "They're at their dad's for the weekend. I told you that when I called you, remember?" Debbie's jaw went slack as she realized she did remember, that and a whole host of other details about their telephone conversation that had somehow slipped her mind while she was making her way over to the suburban house of the woman she'd been babysitting for ever since high school. It suddenly occurred to her that she let a lot of things tumble out of her head whenever Lorna wasn't around, long and intimate discussions they had on the couch while the kids were in bed and in the car while Lorna was dropping Debbie off and over the phone while Debbie was lounging in her dorm room between classes with her hand between her legs. They… they talked a lot. How could she forget that?

She kept trying to puzzle it out, but every time Debbie's thoughts dead-ended into a warm, wet pulse of pleasure that left her eyes rolling back in her head and her breath escaping in tiny little whimpering moans of ecstasy. "That's a good girl," Lorna purred, and it was only when Debbie mewled in gratitude that she realized she was being praised for peeling her clothes off and tossing them heedlessly to the living room floor. That triggered another wave of euphoria, which in turn deepened the fog of drowsy bliss clouding her mind, and before she knew it she was crawling onto the couch to kiss her employer with a verve and a passion that astonished the tiny remaining sliver of her waking self. God, did it feel good to give in like this.

Debbie found the fog in her mind thickening into almost total opacity, with only tiny moments of lucidity between the waves of potent bliss to tell her that she was reaching down to fondle Lorna's smooth cunt and Lorna was reaching up to play with her small, sensitive breasts. "Oh, fuckkk…." she heard someone sigh, their voice slurred and sleepy with ecstasy, and it took Debbie almost a full minute to realize it was her--and by then she'd already sunk even deeper, her brain fully fuzzing out into blank, stupefied rapture. She slowly and sluggishly remembered Lorna saying something about three whole days, and managed to connect it back to the small overnight bag she brought with her… but that was about it for conscious thought for a while as she lowered herself down between Lorna's thighs and began to eagerly, helplessly lick her lover's wet pussy.

The finger went into Francine's mouth, and she instinctively began to suck--she didn't really have an oral fixation, or at least she didn't before Sarah started playing with her like this, but she knew what pussy tasted like probably better than any woman on campus and this finger was practically dripping with that salty, musky flavor. "There we go, Frankie, just suck that silly mind away," her teammate cooed, and Francine's already loose and drowsy mind scattered even further as she accepted yet more programming into her mushy, muzzy head. A finger in her mouth became yet another trance trigger for her, joining so many words and phrases and touches and oh fuck she was such a brainwashed goddamn slut now.

Not that she didn't know why. It was obvious the second Sarah pulled her finger out of Francine's mouth with an audible pop and dipped it back between Francine's flushed, swollen labia--she was a slick and dripping mess down there, driven wild with arousal just by the prospect of being team bitch for yet another strong, sensual woman, and it was only a matter of moments before Sarah had collected another coating of musk for Francine to lick and suck away. "Suck yourself to sleep, Frankie, suck yourself silly for Sarah," she growled, her tones dripping with lust and desire and the excitement of command, and Francine's lips pursed without a second or even a first thought about what it was doing to her.

"It feels so good to suck yourself silly, Frankie," Sarah purred, intoning the words in a soothing cadence that had become second nature to just about everyone on the team by now. "Any time I put my fingers to your lips, you're just going to want to open up and suck them, and it's going to take you so deep into trance for me and make that pretty mind all mushy and empty and blank, isn't that right?" The intruding digit steered Francine's head into a nod, gently but so commandingly she didn't feel like she had any choice but to move in agreement, and already she could picture Sarah's elegant blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she put Francine through her paces for a friend or teammate.

They were getting better at this, she sluggishly realized, as the finger popped out of her mouth again and she felt her mind gradually resurface to at least a lighter trance while Sarah dredged her digits through the messy channel between Francine's pussy lips. It wasn't just that she was getting weaker and wetter and even more of a pushover for hypnosis, although god knew that was true--her teammates were genuinely getting more skilled at finding that perfect pitch and tone to remind Francine of the hypnotist that first dropped her. They were learning how to phrase their suggestions to lock them into Francine's muzzy brain even deeper, and how to associate them with pleasure so they took root. They were all so motivated to learn… but not nearly as motivated as Francine was, of course.

"Sucking makes you silly, sweetie," Sarah murmured, pushing two fingers into Francine's mouth this time, and her obedient brain responded to the added stimulus by taking her twice as deep as before. That stilled whatever musings she had rattling around inside her head… but Francine knew she'd return to the notion. It would occur to her again that she was getting weaker and they were all getting so, so much stronger. She'd think of it in the night, while her own fingers teased her cunt and made her even more obedient to the women in her life.

"I… I really shouldn't." The thought came glacially slow to Casey, arriving after a process of cognition that felt like actual physical effort and left her mind sluggish and exhausted. The older man… Blake, was it? He had this knack for distracting her, fluttering his fingers and drawing her eyes down to his sparkly opal ring every time she was just beginning to puzzle out a notion from the increasingly foggy swamp of confusion in her head, and by the time he actually gave her a suggestion it felt like a full minute of staring in mesmerized fascination before she could respond to his soft, encouraging words.

And before she could follow her first, tentative thought with another, his voice was already back in her head. "You don't need to worry about all that," he murmured, reducing Casey's concerns about privacy and modesty and the wisdom of exposing herself to a total stranger in a semi-public place to blissful irrelevancy with a flourish of his captivating fingers. "Just listen to your body, sweetie. Listen to that warm, wet pulse between your legs that's been promising you so much pleasure for so long now. What is it telling you to do?" Casey sat there for a long moment, tuning out the sound of the washers and dryers to focus on her cunt. Fuck it was so wet. He… he was barely even touching her and it was so fucking wet.

It almost felt like she never even arrived at the decision to peel off her tatty old laundry day sweats and bury her fingers between her slick labia. Casey simply watched it happen, noticing her hands moving out of the corner of her eye while she continued to stare in rapt fascination at Blake's opal ring and her already slow thoughts coasted to a halt. "That's a good girl," Blake purred, lowering her down to the floor so she could spread her legs wide and give herself full access to her warm, wet pussy, and soon her vision of the ring was obscured by her own eyelids as her expression squeezed into a contortion of ecstasy. "Just let go, give in to the pleasure, enjoy the rewards for listening to me and doing as you're told."

Casey's head bobbed up and down in a jerking nod, her muscles spasming as the first climax hit. It didn't feel like regular masturbation--the parts of her mind that would ordinarily have been distracted by listening for her roommate or worrying about finishing up in time for work or even just good old garden variety shame about sex had all been silenced completely by the opal vistas within Blake's mesmerizing ring, leaving the pleasure to resonate pure and undiluted inside her vacant head. Blake could somehow tell, too; he spoke softly to her the whole time she played with herself, cooing, "That's it, baby doll, just rub those silly thoughts away and sink deeper into my will and my voice," until Casey lost herself in the craving to do exactly that.

No one interrupted them while the machines went through their paces, and by the time Casey's clothes went through the dryer she'd left a slippery mess on the linoleum beneath her. Blake mopped it up with a pair of her clean panties, slipping them into his pocket before helping her dress and walking her back to his apartment… and she didn't have more than a second to wonder why she was following him before the ring flashed in front of her eyes again and she dipped right back down into that wonderful state of peace and pleasure for her new Master.