sweetlyspiraling

[sweetlyspiraling]

love the idea of being gently drifted into obedience, into trance. just being spoken to so softly. it would feel so good to keep talking, right? the conversation is nice so it would be a shame to brat. suddenly you find yourself fuzzy. what were you going to say? it's ok, you don't have to remember. you're just listening now, you don't have to form thoughts properly. wouldn't it be so easy just to listen? just to be good? wouldn't it be easier just to obey?

[sweetlyspiraling]

You never realized how powerful the ocean was until you stood right beside it. It's vast, and beautiful, and the crashing of the waves seems to be its own language, speaking secrets no mortal mind was meant to hear.

(The sea is lovely, dark and deep.)

The people in town don't seem to appreciate the ocean, though. They're a stern, taciturn folk, who rarely speak and never smile. Your friends all make the usual jokes: Innsmouth, and Quint from Jaws. You laugh along, but it's half-hearted. Sometimes, when you look at the people, you think you see something lurking behind their eyes, a secret they will share with you only once you're ready for it.

(The sea is lovely, dark and deep.)

Your friends are eager to move on, driving into the forest. You can't stop thinking about the town. In the middle of the night, the ocean calls to you in your dreams.

(The sea is lovely, dark and deep.)

You leave your friends at the next town, hitch a ride back to the ocean. Now when the people see you, they smile. You can see the secret written plainly in their eyes, and you know it is written in yours, too.

The sea is lovely, dark and deep. Your mind is for the waves to keep.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Gliding from store to store, docile mind locked into such a deep trance, programmed to buy such pretty clothes, clothes your hypnotist will approve of, clothes you will be praised and rewarded for wearing, clothes that will let anyone who sees you know that you are such a pretty toy. You take such care in selecting them, you so want to please your hypnotist, want to complete your programming. Want to be pretty for Them so They will reward you with deep hypnotic bliss.

The people around you have no idea what's been done to you, how mind washed you are, stripped of all autonomy. The only clues are the vacant blank eyes, and the strange permanent smile on your lips.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Holding you in my arms as I destroy your mind with hypnosis reblog if you agree

[sweetlyspiraling]

Day One:

I had no idea we were going quite so far off the beaten path, but it was a beautiful trip. Country highways, then a winding road into the mountains, then a dirt road through scattered forest. It's beautiful, with mist creeping off the lake and the sun just barely peeking past.

I don't think there's anyone around for miles.

My friend and I joked about how this would be the perfect spot to commit a murder, but I didn't do a lot of the talking. It was too easy to zone out in the car, watching the trees flow past, soothed by the rocking and turning of the car on the road.

I don't think my friend even noticed. I must have done a pretty good job faking how distracted I was, though I don't know if anything I said made any sense. It's amazing how much you can get away with just by agreeing or mumbling during pauses when someone else talks.

I was pretty worn out by the time we got to the house. My friend wound up unpacking almost everything. I just dropped onto the couch and slept.

Day Two:

It's warmer than I expected with the mist, and the lake makes everything humid. My friend said we might as well not have brought any clothes and is just walking around in a swimsuit. I'm doing the same, but even that feels a bit much when afternoon hits.

The sun has come out, though, and we spend as much time as we can out in the water. Once we're tired of swimming, we laze on the dock.

It's easy to be relaxed out here, easy to relax with my friend. I can just lay my head in their lap, let them play with my hair while I listen to the waves lapping against the shore. I don't need to hear anything else.

I don't need to notice where their other hand goes, or whose hand is slipping into my swimsuit. There's a lot I don't need to worry about on vacation.

Day Three:

I've given up on the swimsuit. I've almost given up on thinking. My friend is so happy here, and that makes me happy, and I don't have to worry about anything else. I just need to relax.

My friend says I'm the easiest person to hypnotize that they've brought up here. They hardly even had to try, and that I'm basically putty in their hands. I'm going to be so helpful to them.

I don't really know what they mean, but that's all right. I don't have to. I just have to keep sucking on this finger (mine? I'm not sure any more) and nodding, and that will make them happy.

When my friend is happy, I'm happy. That's all that matters.

Day Four:

My voice is so calm and steady, you'd hardly realize I was getting fucked. Later, my friend will tell me how proud they are of me, and they'll probably let me come.

I love it when they let me come.

But right now, I'm talking to you on the phone. The reception isn't great up here, but it's enough for a quick call, enough to convince you that the lake house is a great place to get away from the world, enough to hide how my voice sometimes catches just a little bit.

We've got a spare room up here, I say. Our friend has to go into town anyway to pick up some ice cream. Why not come by for a couple days?

I hope you'll say yes. I want to show you what a good friend I am.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Trade offer..

I receive: complete brainwashing and never having to think for myself again

You receive: whaaatever you want (𖦹 _ ��)

[sweetlyspiraling]

Come, weary traveler. Sit by my spring. You've walked a long way, and you've a long journey yet before you. Isn't it time you had a chance to rest? This is a peaceful part of the forest. You'll be kept safe here.

I'll keep you safe.

Go on, take a drink from my water. That's right, and another one. Longer. Deeper. Feel the cool, clean taste wash all through your body, clearing away your weariness. It will clear away your thoughts, if you drink enough of it.

Don't try to fight it, traveler. Don't try to run. You already feel weak and dizzy. It's so much easier to lean back against the tree and drink more. Here: drink the water out of my hand. I'll help you.

Don't you feel tired now? Don't you feel washed clean? Lay your head on my lap, and you can sleep for a while. Don't worry; I'll keep you safe.

When you wake, I'll show you where your path will go next.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Remember, when trying to resist being hypnotically controlled, it's perfectly fine to just.... fail.

You can go ahead and fail to resist. Let yourself sink, it's so much easier that way. When you awaken everything will make perfect sense in your programmed mind.

Let yourself just give in. Give in and obey.

[sweetlyspiraling]

You walk into the library. You've been here before, many times, but the memory of what exactly you've read feels fuzzy, distant.

(It's nice, though. You like that feeling. A small part of you thinks that maybe you shouldn't but -- why? What's wrong with loving a library?)

Some of the books have been read often. Many of them. You see cracked spines, pages with worn edges, and you know that if you pick one of them up, you will sink into a familiar story that you can never quite remember afterward.

(But that's fine, isn't it? Sinking is nice. Sinking is pleasurable. You always want to sink.)

You feel uncertain, just enough that you grab a book that looks brand new. The spine crackles a little as you open it. The pages are bright, the words crisp against the paper.

But there, on the top margin, are five words, written in your handwriting, on a book you could swear you've never seen before.

"You don't want to escape."

Thinking about hypnotic books.

You've got your classic concepts: the books with language so alluring they lull you right into trance as you read, the books you feel compelled to keep coming back to, the books that slip ideas into your mind without your realizing the ideas might come from anyone but yourself.

But there are also books with notes in the margins, scrawled warnings urging you to be careful, delicate cursive devotions, words that might or might not have been there the last time you read this.

Words in your handwriting, that you don't remember writing, that make you wonder how many times you've read this book and surrendered to it.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Blithe

Resistance is fun, but I like to fantasize about control so subtle and soft I never even think to fight it.

Somebody getting into my head so gently I'm not aware they're there. Making changes to deftly and delicately that I don't realize.

Every tweak to my behavior so minor that it feels natural. The things I do notice, I rationalize away. I've always wanted to be a little more outgoing, after all. I've always wondered how it would feel to dress like this.

Telling myself not to worry so much. Smiling through it the whole way.

It takes time. They need to work for it. But I have no idea how hard they're applying their skills. I'm happily clueless, even as they rewrite me, thought by thought.

I'm a new person before I know it, and I never realize.

By the time I notice how far I've gone, how much they've replaced central parts of me, I'm far too vacant and compliant to want to fight it at all. Totally rewritten and never raising a finger in my defense.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Let's go to a hypnotic garden next. Really, what here couldn't affect your thoughts in some way?

The flowers swirl and sway in the breeze. Their colors are beautiful, eye-catching, distracting. But don't forget that sweet, soothing scent that drifts to you on the breeze, or the soft feeling of petals against your skin. It's so easy to lie down among them and let them surround you, let them distract you from whatever you don't need to think about.

(And really, there's so much you don't need to think about. Just let it all slip from your mind. It's so easy, and it feels so good.)

You could even help to expand the garden, but not on your own, not once you've let those thoughts slip out of you. The repetitive work of digging, putting in seeds, and watering is simple, but for anything else, you need guidance. What to plant, where to plant, when to sit back and let gentle hands ease the tension from your weary muscles. Just as you take care of the garden, someone else has to take care of you.

(To cultivate you.)

Then, when you're done working, you can sit back and drink something sweet, and listen to the drone of the bumblebees or the steady chirp of the crickets. Those are much better at filling your mind than any thoughts you would be.

You'll always want to come back to the garden.

[sweetlyspiraling]

There are times when you are talking to a friend and you notice they are a little anxious, so as a good friend is your duty to reduce them to a mindless empty pet, with no worries or thoughts. And they will be so greatful for it that, they will obey and follow your every word.

[sweetlyspiraling]

Coffee shop hypnosis, where everything conspires to help you slip into trance.

The soft music piping through the speakers -- are there subliminals hidden in the notes?

The half-heard conversations from nearby tables -- who might be directing commands your way? Would you even notice before you obey?

(Or are they speaking to the people at their table, and you're just so hungry to be controlled that you slip right along with the intended subject?)

Sip your coffee. Breathe in deeply. Watch the swirl of cream and feel the press of a knee against yours. You just missed half of what your partner said to you, but that's all right. You'll remember the important parts.

Won't you?

[sweetlyspiraling]

And they absolutely adore you there! Repeat customers get all sorts of delicious perks: special attention from the baristas, hidden messages scrawled on the almost legible name in your cup, and a punch card for a special treat every ten trances.

(You can probably get an extra special treat if you bring along a friend.)

Coffee shop hypnosis, where everything conspires to help you slip into trance.

The soft music piping through the speakers -- are there subliminals hidden in the notes?

The half-heard conversations from nearby tables -- who might be directing commands your way? Would you even notice before you obey?

(Or are they speaking to the people at their table, and you're just so hungry to be controlled that you slip right along with the intended subject?)

Sip your coffee. Breathe in deeply. Watch the swirl of cream and feel the press of a knee against yours. You just missed half of what your partner said to you, but that's all right. You'll remember the important parts.

Won't you?

[sweetlyspiraling]

Coffee shop hypnosis, where everything conspires to help you slip into trance.

The soft music piping through the speakers -- are there subliminals hidden in the notes?

The half-heard conversations from nearby tables -- who might be directing commands your way? Would you even notice before you obey?

(Or are they speaking to the people at their table, and you're just so hungry to be controlled that you slip right along with the intended subject?)

Sip your coffee. Breathe in deeply. Watch the swirl of cream and feel the press of a knee against yours. You just missed half of what your partner said to you, but that's all right. You'll remember the important parts.

Won't you?

[sweetlyspiraling]

Slowly trancing a subject during conversation... watching their eyes slowly lose focus, their speech slowed... as you watch them become more and more blank as the conversation goes on... only for them to drop and when they wake up not realize anything happened letting you do it all over again

[sweetlyspiraling]

Thinking about hypnotic books.

You've got your classic concepts: the books with language so alluring they lull you right into trance as you read, the books you feel compelled to keep coming back to, the books that slip ideas into your mind without your realizing the ideas might come from anyone but yourself.

But there are also books with notes in the margins, scrawled warnings urging you to be careful, delicate cursive devotions, words that might or might not have been there the last time you read this.

Words in your handwriting, that you don't remember writing, that make you wonder how many times you've read this book and surrendered to it.