losing my mind

“Shhh… let me do the thinking”

“You’re so pretty with your head empty”

“I like you like this, no single thought behind those eyes”

“Doesn’t it feel good when I take care of you?”

“Only I know what you need”

Alice would have understood the principle behind the Mandelbrot Spiral better than most others, if she was still capable of thinking once the image burned its way into her retinas and traveled from there down her optic nerve to her brain. She was a professional coder specializing in packaging and delivering crucial software updates, she knew the science of data compression inside and out--the notion of taking a vast amount of information and reducing it in size for easy transmission before it was unpacked in the target computer made perfect sense to her, even if she never thought of her own mind as the operating system of a piece of hardware made out of lipids and water and just as vulnerable to hacking as any other. This was all very much in her wheelhouse.

That didn't stop her from collapsing to the floor like a puppet with cut strings, smacking her cheek painfully hard against the concrete despite Tilda's best efforts to slow her fall. Once Alice actually saw the spiral, and the visual information packed into the fractal details of its swirl beamed their way into her brain as a pattern of precisely encoded light, she was too busy unpacking her new programming to care about anything as distant and irrelevant as her voluntary muscles. She stared sightlessly in gape-mouthed awe, lost in almost religious wonder at the new and unswayable truths unfolding inside her head, and every second brought a hundred new revelations that she could no more dispute than a computer could argue with its malware. Alice was learning first-hand how little information security her mind possessed, not that she could really conceive of the attack on her systems once it began and her critical thinking skills went offline.

She didn't even really notice Tilda undressing her; the sensation of cool floor against her warm body was input, yes, but she was getting so much new information from the memetic virus colonizing her frontal lobe that it was impossible to focus on anything else. When Tilda shoved three fingers into Alice's cunt--not to stimulate her, but simply to check on the stuttering clenches that demonstrated the progress of Alice's pleasure conditioning--it didn't register at all, because her entire limbic system was being rewired to associate obedience with rapt, euphoric ecstasy and the actual signals from even her most sensitive organs didn't matter compared to that. Alice started cumming within seconds, but Tilda had very little to do with it anymore.

Thankfully, Tilda had chosen both her time and her location well. Nobody came into the basement to disturb them during the two or three hours it took for the lifetime's worth of data to unpack itself inside Alice's head, and nobody heard her moans and whimpers of ecstasy as she accepted and absorbed an entire new narrative of her existence focused on serving and servicing her new Mistress. Her cunt was a leaky mess by the time it all finished, leaving a small puddle on the concrete beneath her, but that would be easy to clean up and in fact Tilda knew she would have an enthusiastic volunteer. Alice emerged from her conditioning an irrevocably devoted lesbian slave… and one of the most fractal things about the Mandelbrot Spiral was the way it made Alice want to repeat the process with someone else.

The middle is where it’s most interesting. Right now. This version of you, the one reading this, who is visibly and measurably different from who you were a month ago and still has so far to go. You’re not so innocent anymore. You can’t claim that. You’ve read too much and thought about it too deeply. But you’re also not gone. You’re not blank. You’re not mindlessly drooling on anything. You’re right here, fully aware, watching yourself change in real time and choosing to keep reading anyway.

I want you to appreciate the tension of being mid-corruption. Still smart enough to see what’s happening. Still articulate enough to describe it. Still self-aware enough to be slightly alarmed by how wet you get when I tell you what you’re becoming. Do you understand how rare and beautiful that is? The you at the beginning couldn’t feel it because you didn’t know it was happening. The you at the end won’t feel it because you won’t remember how to care. You’re the only version of yourself who gets to experience this with full clarity.

Don’t try to to rush past it.

The mindless bliss will come. I promise. One day you’ll be bouncing on my cock with your eyes glazed and your tongue out and a head empty of everything except how good it feels to be full of me. That day is coming and it’s going to be everything you fantasize about. But today you’re something better. Today you’re someone who just caught yourself getting wet reading about your future and you felt a little scared and a little thrilled and kept going. Today you know exactly what I’m doing to you and you have every tool you need to stop it and you’re choosing this paragraph over your own self-preservation.

Slow down. Stop skipping to the ending. You’ll never be this version of yourself again. The one who still has the ability to resist and is choosing not to. The one who can feel the ground shifting under your feet and finds the vertigo erotic. You’re going to miss you when you’re gone. I’m going to miss you too honestly. The finished version will be fun and obedient and perfect and I’ll enjoy every second of it. But it won’t look at me the way you’re looking at me right now. It won’t feel this specific combination of fear and arousal and curiosity and surrender that you’re sitting in at this exact moment.

“Awh, honey, it’s okay.” Your hypnotist said, softly, pulling you closer to them by the chin, as your mind was somewhere past the point of awareness for anything but them, and their words. “I know, I know, you think you’re winning right now.”

That… That was right, wasn’t it? “That you think that the goal was to get you to drop three times. I know, you’ve only dropped once for me. But… You’re so very deep.” Their words were like sledgehammers, knocking you deeper. “So very mindless.”

Their voice was so close to you. Their breath on your ear filled you with desire. “So very agreeable. It feels good to agree, doesn’t it? That’s it. Nod your head, yes!” You began to nod, obediently. Eagerly. It did feel so good to give in and accept their words.

“Yeah, you don’t mind if I move the goalposts of our game, do you?” You didn’t. You just wanted to keep sinking. To keep drifting. It felt so good. “No, just keep nodding, just keep agreeing. I only needed to drop you once to win, isn’t that right, toy?”

You kept nodding, kept agreeing, they were right. They were always right. “Yes, good plaything. So eager to obey. So eager to submit. Even if it means losing. Because it feels good to lose for me, doesn’t it, toy?” More nodding, agreeing. “Yeah, you’re such a good loser for me.”

* * *

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Your hypnotist laughed down at you as your eyelids fluttered. You were trying to muster your thoughts. Trying to not let yourself just slip into trance for them. “Awh, plaything, look at you, trying to hold on to your conscious thoughts… Shh.”

They pressed a finger to your lips. That, combined with them shushing you, made your thoughts falter. “I know, I know, you could be resisting right now. But, like, why would you want to? When it feels so nice to sink, and be blank, and brainless?”

That made sense. Why were you trying to resist? That was silly. “You could always resist later, toy. You will resist later. I’m sure of it.” Their words sounded so comforting. Like a cozy blanket, covering your brain. What had you been trying to think about?

“And because you’re going to resist later, you don’t need to resist my power now. No. You can let your brain switch off for me.” Your thoughts accepted their words, and ceased operation. Your body went limp, your eyes closed, as you sank into the surface beneath you.

They laughed. “Good toy. See, doesn’t that feel better? Not having to think?” It felt so much better. Thinking had been so much effort. “You’re so lucky, just getting to sink for me. Yeah. You’ll get to resist later, toy. When you’re good and ready.” They paused.

You felt their hand cup your cheek, and knew that they were looking down at you. “Only… Later never seems to turn into now, does it? It’s so much effort to resist. Too much effort. Shh.” Their finger was against your lips again, quieting your mind. “That’s a good toy.”

* * *

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!

God, Kara's tits were so fucking huge. She only ever really noticed it at moments like this, when Cal slipped up behind her while she was lost in thought in front of the mirror and began groping her lush, heavy breasts, but… but fuck, it was absolutely true. She just had these enormous fucking cow udders that overflowed his grip and dented under his touch and jiggled with every motion. It was really a wonder she could even think of herself as a person at all, honestly, what with these enormous honking boobs bouncing and quaking and making her such an obvious object for male attention.

Really, it was getting harder and harder to see herself as a person at all. The more she stared at the woman in the mirror, standing there with a glassy cast to her eyes and a vacant, slack-jawed expression of indolent pleasure, the more Kara began to see nothing more than a toy for her boyfriend's amusement. He was strumming her nipples and kneading her chest and generally treating her like an object anyway, so how could she really pretend that she was a human being with a mind and a will of her own? She'd just been standing there bouncing her tits without really thinking--she might have called it 'lost in thought', but it was really that she was lost and so were her thoughts and they didn't seem likely to find each other--and goddamn if that didn't seem like something only a brainless fucktoy would do.

Once that fuzzy, inchoate conviction got stuck in Kara's empty head, she found it utterly impossible to dislodge. Her fingers fumbled for her belt, unbuckling it and unzipping her fly to let her pants fall down around her ankles to reveal a pair of panties that already had a small but visible wet spot on them… but Kara couldn't even look at it, not really. Her eyes were locked on those ginormous tits, swaying and rippling and hammering home the notion that she was really just an object of Cal's desire and not a person at all. She wouldn't even be able to see her own pussy without the help of a mirror, after all. Her chest would get in the way. And if it was that big and obtrusive and all-encompassing in her field of vision, surely it should loom that large in her mind?

It all began to make perfect sense to her, the interlocking aspects of her conditioning coming together to imprison Kara's mind in a cage of pure, unadulterated bliss. Her tits were so heavy that they weighed down her thoughts and made them too exhausting to keep in her head, just like they were weighing down her body right now until she had to crouch on all fours with her udders dangling and swaying underneath her. Cal, he--he got to use her body, of course, groping her breasts and pulling aside her panties to plow her sopping cunt whenever the mood struck him, because objects deserved to be used and it felt so good to be fucked into oblivious ecstasy staring at her bouncing boobs like this. And Kara was… was….

Oh. Yes. Right. She was cumming, cumming so hard she felt something inside her let go and she squirted all over the carpet. Her walk-in closet smelled like pussy all the time now, always enticing her to open up her blouse and stare into the mirror, and if Kara took a lot longer to get dressed these days she had to agree with Cal that it was time well spent.