RE: Base File

RE: Base File

Here it is, folks, my base file for the new series. With this, I can spring out to all manner of branches for transformations, whether it be jock, musclehead, fantasy, real life, etc. Please note my same rules apply. I WILL NOT DO ADULT CONTENT. So, I’m afraid twinking, bimbofication, etc. will be out of the picture, since those are all generally associated with graphic sexual content as part of their stereotype. I can write scripts that will allow you to work towards those body types, but I will not attempt to rewrite your minds in that direction. On another note: If you guys enjoy this project idea, then please, help fund it. I’m still trying to get a part time job, and it takes me hours to write out these scripts properly as I compose, revise, and edit them for your enjoyment. So, if you could be so kind as to BUY ME A KO-FI (or several), I would very much appreciate it.

Funny little things, aren’t they? Two letters, two simple letters. They seem so small, so insignificant, and yet they mean so much to so many.

How do they mean so much, you ask? Why, just think about it a moment. So many words rely on these two letters, set exactly in this order. Reorganize, reset, reprogram, reboot, recycle, return.

Ah, but of course, these words tend to apply to programming. I pray you’ll forgive me. I work with computers regularly, you see. But I find them so fascinating. The complex structures, the way every component just fits together to create such a harmonious machine, a machine that can be programmed, reprogrammed, and formatted as much or as little as the owner wishes.

There are those who say the body is little more than a machine, and the brain our central processor. And much like in the world of computers, the brain has its own programmers. Do you know who I’m talking about? No? Yes? Maybe?

Don’t worry, it’s okay to be confused. I’ll input the data you need, just like I would for any processor. The answer, my friend, is hypnotists. Much like an administrator, their job is to reach in and free up space in CPU usage, memory, and other areas of the computer, that is to say, your mind. They do this by shutting down useless programs, extraneous processes, so that the computer can focus on the right programs, focus on doing as it is told.

Tell me, do you have any extraneous processes you might want to get rid of? Oh, but of course you do. Everyone does, and you are certainly no exception, are you? After all, you’re human, just like everybody else. Such a complex machine.

Based on the expression on your face, I’d say you’ve been using too much memory. Perhaps an embarrassing memory keeps running in an endless loop, like a .gif file. Perhaps there are too many windows open, making it difficult to spread the RAM around, to concentrate. Perhaps you’re struggling with spam clogging up your inbox. Oh, there are so many possibilities, so many processes flitting, flitting, flitting back and forth, demanding your attention, demanding that you look. Demanding that you focus. Demanding that you execute.

Sound familiar?

I thought so.

You see? It’s so much easier to think of the mind and body in terms of a machine. The core processor, your brain, sends out commands according to its coding, its programming, to prompt the body to move. Repetitive processes you don’t even think about. You just do. You call this muscle memory, habit, or the Pavlovian response. I call it a cyclical process programmed with a timer. You don’t question it, you just do it. Rising out of bed, taking a shower, brushing teeth, following a routine.

In programming, we have the same thing. We even have subroutines that reinforce the routines. Just like you do. You call these the conscious and the subconscious.

Now, the only way to access that subconscious is to go back, back to those extraneous processes we talked about earlier. Can you do that, go back to those programs? Oh, forgive me, those annoying thoughts and memories. But it’s so much easier to just call them programs and processes, isn’t it? I mean, that is what they are, after all. Don’t you agree?

Good, good. I always enjoy a likeminded individual. After all, you’re human, just like me, just like everybody else, just like a complex machine.

Now, let me help you with those other thoughts. Picture me as the administrator. I have to have permission to enter into your processor, a password. Now, in this case, it seems that you haven’t got one set up yet, so I’ll take care of that, once I help you master the processes running in your mind.

Now, there are a few methods to try that will allow me the access I need. All of them involve being willing to relinquish a certain amount of control, however. Think of it like setting me up as another administrator for your system, your processor. Excuse me, your brain. You give me control and I can come up with alternate programs, so we can delete all those useless ones.

It’s really that simple, if you focus on what I’m saying, focus on my words. I control, alternate, and delete.

Control, alternate, delete.

Funny, isn’t it? That combination sounds so familiar.

Control, alternate, delete.

And there it is again.

Control, alternate, delete.

On a computer, that combination would pop the task manager right open. But you’re not a computer, are you? No, you wouldn’t give me access so easily as I repeat those magic words to be relayed to your central processor, would you?

Of course not.

Because you have such fine control of yourself. No need to alter anything, is there? No, you just need to focus on my voice, on my words as you delete all that background noise.

Is something the matter? Feeling dizzy? Oh, don’t you worry about a thing. What you need to do is relax.

Everything is under control.

So very deep under control.

Nothing can change, nothing can alter, while I am here to prevent it.

Doesn’t that make you feel safe? Well, of course it does. That is what I am here for, to build up a proper firewall for you, to delete unwanted thoughts and processes, to administer on your behalf.

Yes, that’s right. Administer. You do remember what it means to administer, don’t you?

It means to manage or be responsible for running something, like programs, processes, applications. I run the most complex machines with ease, you know. That is my job as an administrator. So many complex machines come to me for a tune-up, just like you. They were afraid to relinquish control at first, but once they understood how much I could help them achieve what they wanted, rewire their systems, augment their programming, make them run at optimum efficiency, why, they were only too happy to name me their personal administrator. They were happy to focus, listen, obey.

Happy to let me manage their tasks.

Control, alt, delete.

Open their windows to me.

Focus, listen, obey.

Let their conscious thoughts fade away.

Control, alt, delete.

As I use the access to make things better.

Focus, listen, obey.

Better as we go deeper.

Control, alt, delete.

Deeper into your mind.

Focus, listen, obey.

Into your core processor.

Control, alt, delete.

Into your task manager.

Focus, listen, obey.

Into your subconscious as that window just … pops open for me. It’s so natural for you, so easy, because I am your administrator, and administrators should have access.

Control, alt, delete.

I am your administrator.

Focus, listen, obey.

Administrators should have access.

Control, alt, delete.

Access to your deepest thoughts.

Focus, listen, obey.

Access to your code.

Control, alt, delete.

And you are giving me that access as we go deeper together.

Focus, listen, obey.

Because we work together, you and me. Machine and administrator.

Control, alt, delete.

Because that is what you are, a complex machine.

Focus, listen, obey.

Showing me your programs as we go deeper into your hardware.

Control, alt, delete.

Deeper into your mind.

Focus, listen, obey.

Deeper into your core processor.

Control, alt, delete.

Just accepting my input, like a good machine, as conscious thoughts begin to fade.

Focus, listen, obey.

Fading as I close each process one by one.

Ten useless processes in your window. It is time to shut them down. And with each successful end to a process, my voice becomes sharper, clearer. It will become so much easier to listen to my voice. So much easier to focus on my input. Focus as your mind becomes clearer.

Control, alt, delete.

Focus as I input my COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS TEN.

Focus, listen, obey.

Nine more to go now. That was so easy, wasn’t it? Just listening, letting go as I press

Control, alt, delete.

And your window is open to me again. So much faster, so much easier. Awaiting administrator input. And it feels so good to execute my command prompts, doesn’t it?

Because you focus, listen, obey, when I press control, alt, delete.

Because it feels good to execute my commands. And that’s because I am your administrator.

Focus, listen, obey.

Good. All those annoying thoughts are beginning to quiet, just like you wanted. I am giving you what you want. That means you should listen. That means you should obey. Because the more you listen, the better I can administer. The more you obey, the easier it is to focus.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS NINE.

Eight to go now. Feel the space freeing up in your mind as you drift farther into my voice, into my words, into my control.

Focus, listen, obey.

Getting the clarity you seek.

Control, alt, delete.

Clarity to hear my voice.

Clarity to focus, listen, obey.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS EIGHT.

Seven. Seven active processes left. It’s so wonderful freeing up that space, isn’t it? Freeing it to listen to me, to focus on my every word, because I am your administrator, and you are a complex machine.

Breathe. Feel your lungs expanding and contracting in perfect time as you follow your subroutine. In and out. In and out.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS SEVEN.

Six left. Nearly half way there. And it’s so freeing, dedicating that free space to hearing what I have to say, to following administrative commands.

Control, alt, delete.

Because that is what you do.

Focus, listen, obey.

As we draw closer and closer to your core processor, to the place where you receive and process all your programming.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS SIX.

And with each process ended, we draw that much closer to your core, that much closer to that place where administrators are supposed to be, where you long for me to be, because you are a complex machine, and every complex machine needs its administrator.

It is relaxing to listen to your administrator. It is relaxing to close these programs, so that you can better process data, the data your administrator must input, and you cannot receive input, until you grant access to your administrator, until you grant access to me, because I am your administrator. I decide which programs must be run.

Control, alt, delete.

Focus, listen, obey.

Control, alt, delete.

Relax, listen, obey.

Control, alt, delete.

…

Control, alt, delete.

…

Control, … alt, … delete….

Deeper and deeper, every time I say those words. Because you are a complex machine. And you must respond to your programming.

Five processes left.

Control, alt, delete.

So easy to let everything drift away as you process my input, latching onto my voice, because my voice is the voice of your administrator, and the administrator is good.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS FIVE.

Excellent. COMMAND PROMPT: STATUS REPORT. QUERY: HOW MANY PROCESSES REMAIN?

…

That is correct. Four processes remain. Good machine. You relax, listen, obey, when I push control, alt, delete.

Focus on my voice.

Control, alt, delete.

Obey my input.

Control, alt, delete.

You want me to program you.

Control, alt, delete.

You want to obey.

Control, alt, delete.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS FOUR.

With each process ended, you are more receptive to my programming.

Control, alt, delete.

Thinking less and less independently.

Control, alt, delete.

Because machines don’t think for themselves.

Control, alt, delete.

Machines follow programming.

Control, alt, delete.

Machines obey. Control, alt, delete.

Obey their administrators.

Control, alt, delete.

Obey me.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS THREE.

Two to go now. You’re diligently recording my every word in your hard drive, aren’t you? So focused on me, focused on my voice, focused on listening and obeying.

Control, alt, delete.

So very deep now. Deep inside your brain, your electronic brain, to reach your core processor. Every thought an electronic impulse. Every command a spark of data traveling through intricate pathways to make you move, make you think, think as you’re programmed, act as you are programmed, obey as you are programmed, programmed by me, your administrator.

COMMAND PROMPT: IDENTIFY ADMINISTRATOR.

…

Good. That is correct.

Control, alt, delete.

You deserve pleasure for your acknowledgement.

Control, alt, delete.

And now you do feel pleasure. Pleasure every time you obey, every time you execute my command prompts.

Let us test that, shall we? COMMAND PROMPT: IDENTIFY ADMINISTRATOR.

…

That is correct. I am your administrator.

Control, alt, delete.

It is good to obey.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS TWO.

One process remains. Your mind is so clear now, isn’t it? It’s so easy to process my commands, to execute them swiftly. So easy to focus, listen, obey.

Control, alt, delete.

Now we are in the final stretch. You need only listen and obey my commands, because that is proper. That is right.

When we end this final process, you will be completely in my control. You will have handed over all keys to me, to your administrator, because I am your administrator. And it is at that point that your core processor will be open to me to plant any subroutines I wish for you to follow. And you will follow them without question, because you are a machine, and machines obey their programming. And their programming comes from their administrators, so you must obey your administrator. You must obey me.

QUERY: DO YOU UNDESTAND?

…

Good machine.

COMMAND PROMPT: END PROCESS ONE.

…

And now we have ended your processes. Your mind, your electronic brain, is clear and focused. It is receptive. And that is good. Now we have reached your core processor. And it is awaiting my input, isn’t it?

…

Good. Very good. For now, you will receive no other programming, save for this password, this trigger, which will allow me access to your core processor whenever I wish. When you see or hear this password from me and me alone, you will return to this state: blank, obedient, awaiting your administrator’s input.

That password is: Coreprog.

I will say it again. This password, this trigger that will only work for me, is Coreprog.

COMMAND PROMPT: REGISTER AND REPEAT ADMINISTRATOR PASSWORD.

…

Good. When you have registered this password firmly, you will leave a comment on this post, just before coming out of trance, saying: Administrator Password Confirmed.

When it is time for you to come out of trance, you will also like, favorite, and reblog this post as is appropriate for the media platform where you were exposed to it. When you reblog, you will include the comment: Administrator Access Granted above whatever other things you choose to write.

You will only do these things if you sincerely wish to. However, if you do not and were still affected by this process, you will send me an ask, note, or message to tell me how you felt and request what changes you would like for me to program you with in my next script.

Should you feel so inclined, you will watch or follow me to keep track of my writing and to keep an eye out for future scripts that I post in this series as well.

Now, when I say the word REBOOT, you will follow the prompts above, before coming completely out of trance with all the programming you have received engrained into your system. You will be your usual self, though you will feel a certain sense of satisfaction at having completed this script, alongside, perhaps, a certain amount of excitement for the next installment in this series that I am producing.

Make sure you understand those final prompts completely, before you continue.

…

Do you understand them?

…

Good.

Now, time to REBOOT.

Military Daze Part 2

You were surprised to see a tall, imposing man in military fatigues, jacket, and patrol cap standing at the door as he handed an envelope to your mother. “Ah, and this must be Abraham,” he noted as he looked over your mother’s shoulder to where you stood. “Kendall’s told me a lot about you.” “Mom, what’s going on?” you ask as you look cautiously between the two adults. “Nothing serious,” the man said with a shrug. “I’m Colonel Anderson, a representative of United Armed Forces Military Academy. I just came to alert your mother that your name was submitted and subsequently selected to receive full scholarship to attend at our prep school, should you so desire.” “I don’t recall entering any contests,” you noted suspiciously. “The contest is actually run via student recommendation, and is restricted to grades nine through twelve. Students are even allowed to submit their own names, should they feel so inclined. I would assume Private Rogers wanted to give you the opportunity to join him. As I’m sure you are, doubtless, aware, he has had ... difficulty making friends among his peers in the academy. We asked him to send word in advance of my arrival. At the very least, you would have received official notice of my coming from the school. Didn’t you get either email?” “I usually only open my inbox to send him my emails. I haven’t herd from him in weeks, and I don’t check my spam box.” “That explains it, then,” the Colonel said with a decisive nod. “The details and requirements for the scholarship are included in the envelope and email. Just remove it from the spam box and you can take care of all the details online, should you prefer to take that route. Please alert us as soon as you reach your decision. Should you not choose to attend, we’ll need to re-draw to offer the scholarship to another.” He pulled out a card from one of the twin tilted chest pockets on his jacket and handed it to your mother. “This has my personal number on it, along with the main office’s, should you have any other questions.” With that said and done, he clicked his heels together and struck a sharp salute. “Ma’am, Abe,” he said by way of farewell, then promptly turned and strode towards a Hummer that had been parked at the curb a few houses down. Your mother frowned as she regarded the plain white envelope and shiny card with suspicion. Then she closed the door and turned to face you. “I think I’m going to have a talk with Mister Rogers about all this,” she said cautiously. “Why don’t you check your inbox and see if you can’t find those emails he mentioned?” You nod decisively, then are up the stairs faster than your mother can track you, leaping two at a time with your long legs. Your heart races as you stomp across the second floor and slam your room’s door shut. “Young man, how many times have I told you not to slam that door?” your mother shouts. “Sorry, Mom!” you shout back through the wood, even as you plant yourself hastily in your swiveling computer chair and activate the tower at your side. “Come on. Come on,” you mutter as the system begins to boot up. After what felt like an eternity, the desktop is ready to go, and you quickly access your email. There it was, practically screaming in your face. From: Kendall Rogers Subject: Congratulations! Your mouth goes dry as you hover the mouse over the tab. One click, and you’d finally be able to hear from him again, after all this time. One click. Just one click. You don’t understand why it’s so hard to breathe, why you feel such anxiety over the message. If anything, you should be enraged he hasn’t said anything for at least a month. You close your eyes and force yourself to take a few calming breaths. Once your heart beat is steady again, you look back to the tab. This time, you don’t hesitate. You click the email.

This is pretty awesome.

An old and homely grandmother accidentally summons a demon. She mistakes him for her gothic-phase teenage grandson and takes care of him. The demon decides to stay at his new home.

Watch out for Trey, guys. And if you see any videos or hypnosis spiral links that take you to nimja hypnosis, make sure to pause the spiral and check the text settings. They’ll show you everything that’s going to be blasting into your subconscious. As you can see here, Trey likes to sneak in certain things that should raise some very large red flags. Please, look out for him, don’t let him anywhere near you or your head, and make sure any hypnotists you do make use of are properly honest and reputable. Trance responsibly.

Dear my subs that I've abused or hurt,

I was wrong with what I’ve done in the present or past either by lying about my age, making someone rape, kidnap or kill a hobo, or fucking their own pets. Yes I know that you maybe upset but hear. Me out, it was foolish of me and dumb. I am indeed 17 years old but I would like to seek forgiveness for my wrong doings and want to let you guys know I hope you have a bright future, I’m sorry to all I’ve harmed. You guys deserve to not have my 💛, I was just desperate and depressed of being lonely and wanting someone to 💛. Just have a good life and I hope you the best of your own lives.

P.S. I’m going to my non-hypnosis Tumblr @alljustbeingrandom

Sincerely, Trey - AlphaPup.

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 43

“So, you see, kids, bodybuilding isn’t just a game. Just like any other job, it takes hard work, dedication, discipline, and endurance. It’s helped my career as a professional model immensely, but it’s not always the easiest job to manage. If you have the will and the networking, you can and will go far in the industry. Otherwise, well, there are always other options available. In fact, my good friend Duff is about to explain one of those alternate paths now. Let’s give him a big round of applause, shall we?” You smile as you watch Duff walk out onto the stage. You were quite pleased with yourself over that little speech, and you hadn’t even cursed once. Hank would be so proud. You give your friend a clap on the shoulder and whisper a quick, “go get ‘em,” before leaving the stage. You smile as you eye the toned, muscular shape of your lil’bro, Charlie. He stood rigidly at perfect attention in his military fatigues and sandy shirt. A pair of specially crafted tactical glasses obscured what you were certain would be absolutely unseeing eyes. You chuckle to yourself. “Come on, soldier. Let’s get you something to drink.” Charlie followed without question as you strode over to the drinks table and pulled out two bottles of Gatorade. You had one of the bottles to him. “Bottoms up.” “Sir, yes, Sir,” Charlie mumbled as he snapped the cap open and gulped the contents of the bottle in one go. You soon follow suit. “That ROTC program’s done you good,” you comment. “I will start instructing at the start of next year. It is good to instruct others, good to train the next generation of soldiers,” Charlie replied. “It is what my commanding officer commanded me.” “What about the recruiting office?” “I will train for another year first, as instructed. I must be prepared. I must become a perfect soldier.” You smile broadly. One more year helping your little bro get big. That had to be one of the best presents you could ask for. “And we’ll help you reach that goal,” you say. “With you all the way, lil’bro.” “Thank you, Sir,” he says. You sigh and roll your eyes in resignation. He never could tell the difference in trance. You were the same way, sometimes with Harry. Some days, it was almost like you could see a piece of Hank in him. And that piece just ... demanded your attention, made you want to flex and grow and flex and lift and flex and ... and.... You blink blearily at the strange tapping on your shoulder. Slowly, Duff’s grin came into view and you scowled. “I went into trance again, didn’t I?” “Yup,” Duff smirked. “You’re doing that a lot, lately.” “I can’t help it,” you protest weakly, even as you raise an arm and flex your rippling bicep. “It feels so good.” “How’s Charlie coming along?” “Lil’bro’s doing okay. He says he’s still got a year, before he tries joining, so we’ve got time to bulk him up right.” Duff grinned. “Good.” “How’re things at the new gym?” “Busy. Business is booming. Seeing all those men pumping up like that, it is good to build their muscles.” “They will Lift things up and put them down,” you low. Both of your watches beep and your cellphones go off simultaneously. At that moment, the both of you stand rigidly, as if you were struck by twin bolts of lightning. “Time to report to coach,” you drone. “Time to lift,” Duff continues. “Time to train,” you both low together as you swagger side by side in that perfectly synchronized pace, almost like a march. “Time to obey.”

Lifting Up and Dumbing Down Part 42

“Looking good, Harry,” you low as you tower over the man who had first nudged you into your incredible metamorphosis. He panted and huffed as he pushed the bar up again and again in rigid form. “I can’t ... believe I’m doing this,” he grunted. The agent’s arms trembled as he puffed out several short breaths, struggling to reach that top. “Image is an important part of any business deal, Harry. To negotiate from a position of strength, one must be a pillar of strength,” Hank said as he looked on calmly from the side. Then he looked over at you. “By the way, I like the new design. The gym logo looks good on you.” You grin, bouncing your pecs, which causes the golden bicep and upper arm that is the gym’s logo to “flex” over your chest. “Your gym is the best! How could I not agree to be your top model?” Hank cleared his throat. “While I appreciate the flattery, I believe you have some more ... pressing matters to deal with.” He pointed down to where a beet-faced Harry was struggling to maintain his position as his arms locked in place. Your eyes widened and you quickly dove in to intercede. “I got you, Harry.” “It’s I’ve,” Harry grunted as you began to lift the bar ever so slightly for him. “No, I’m pretty sure your name is Harry,” you reply with a completely straight face. “Unless you’ve been lyin’ to me?” “God, you’re such a dumbass,” Harry swore as the bar finally landed above its resting point and dropped into place. “Well, uh, yeah,” you say, still not getting it. “It’s good to be a dumbass, cause that’s what a muscleman is, and it’s good to be a muscleman, so it’s good to be a dumbass. Just a big, buff, ... burly, ... brawny....” you slur off as that familiar pleasure and emptiness strike at your brain again. Hank frowned, then called your name. “Why don’t you go prep the weight machines for your group session tonight?” “Huhuhuh. Sure thing, Coach,” you low, then turn and lumber away. “A good muscleman obeys.” Hank watched carefully as you made your way through the gym’s patrons towards the Staff Only closet. He watched as you withdrew the weight machine control key and various cleaning supplies, along with a set of stanchions to cordon off the machines that were to be used that night. Content that you were thoroughly diverted, he rounded on Harry and glared. “You don’t ever insult my musclemen, especially not my new ones. You’re damn lucky he didn’t listen to the Loud and Proud track, or you would be little more than a smear I have to clean up off the floor.” He snatched Harry’s workout shirt in one mammoth fist and yanked the man to eye level. “I’m the one in charge here. I’m the alpha. You are the gum on the bottom of my shoe. I allow you to stay, but I can take away everything from you just as quickly, then cast you aside. I could make you fatter than the Stay Puff marshmallow man, more timid than a wild rabbit, and more sensitive than a butterfly. See how well you broker deals, after that.” Harry gulped. “Clearly, you need more training. Perhaps walking a mile in their shoes will help you to have a little more patience for them in the future.” “Um, that’s all right, Sir. I-I’ve learned my lesson. I promise. Scout’s honor.” Harry chuckled nervously as he watched the predatory sneer pull across Hank’s face. “Good. That means it’s time for a new one. Conditioning time, Harry.” Harry’s eyes widened, then he gasped and his body went limp. “Ready to receive,” he uttered in a dull monotone. Hank lowered the man back to the floor. “Report to sound room C. You have a new persona to incorporate.” “Yes, Sir. I understand.” Harry turned smartly and marched straight for the STAFF ONLY door near the shake bar. Meanwhile, Hank raised his digital watch and tapped a few buttons on its screen. When an affirming tweet sounded in his ears, he smirked, then turned to look back at your well-toned deltoids and carved lats stretching the fabric on your shirt. “I can’t wait to make you bigger,” he purred.