Induction - Tumblr Posts
Square
“You’re such a fucking square, man. Fuck off.”
Jared had heard it all before. That was one of many insults that had haunted him over the years.
“So, you wish to have more confidence in yourself, and possibly to change your image, to prove these tormentors and detractors wrong?” the therapist asked.
“Basically. Like I said, I’m tired of being looked down on.”
“I see.” The therapist tented his fingers as he leaned forward and peered through his glasses at the young student. “You realize this kind of change will require diligence and endurance, yes? Not just mental, but physical. There will likely be opposition to the changes you intend to make. You may be harassed or worse.”
Jared shook his head. His hazel eyes darkened with the weight of his frustrations. The surface became glassy as tears began to form. He hastily blinked them away. “It couldn’t be worse than what I’m facing now.”
“And if it is?”
“Then I’ll make them sorry they ever hurt me in the first place.”
“That’s very bold. Are you saying you intend to put them through some sort of torture session, then?”
“Like I said, Doctor. Whatever it takes.”
“Then let me be blunt. Will you actively seek revenge against them, should I help you?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Jared shrugged. “On the one side, I really want to make them hurt for what they’ve done. On the other, though, I know I’d pretty much be just like them, if I did that.”
“You realize this drastic of a change may require a complete override of your current personality, correct?”
“Do I look like I’m flinching?”
“I just want to make sure, Mister Rogers. This isn’t the kind of thing you step into lightly, and it requires commitment and trust for even a chance to work. If you don’t really want this, then I won’t be able to help you.”
“I want it.”
The therapist stared intently at the would-be-patient. He maintained that quiet gaze for a full minute.
Jared met that gaze and never flinched.
Finally, the doctor reached into a drawer and withdrew a document and a pen. “Sign this. It’s an official release form. In layman’s terms, it’s saying you chose this path of your own free will and that you won’t hold me responsible for any damages, losses, etc. that might come to pass as a result of our sessions. The mind can be a delicate place, and one does not perform surgery on it lightly. For the sake of my personal protection, you will also be agreeing to be monitored while meeting in my office and to report in on a regular basis via video calls to ensure that you are moving forward and not experiencing any adverse side effects.” He held the pen back just as Jared was about to seize it. “I must advice you, Mister Rogers, that I expect complete honesty from you. If something starts to go wrong, you must say so. Dizzy spells, blacking out, etc. must be reported, so that we can make sure to modify your, for lack of a better word, curriculum.”
Jared snatched the pen. “I will. I promise.”
“Very well then, Mister Rogers. Sign the papers, and let’s begin.”
Jared breathed slowly as he laid back against the leather couch, following the instructions of his therapist’s voice.
“And in, and out. And up, and down. Breathing, breathing deeper and deeper as you gradually begin to relax on my couch, relax as we breathe together, deeper. Deeper....
Jared wasn’t sure how long the session lasted. All he knew was that he was bored. He didn’t feel sleepy. He didn’t drift off. All he did was breathe and listen. Finally, he rose up to stare his therapist in the face.
“Now, I’m going to see about setting up a proper set of hypnosis files for you, Jared. However, before we leave today, there’s one last thing I wish to tell you.”
“Yes, Doctor?”
“Being a square doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.”
“Doctor--.”
“Ah-ah-ah. Hear me out.” He raised a diagram. “You’ll note that the square is what is known as a perfect shape. It is also known as a parallelogram. Perfectly formed, perfectly symmetrical. Its sides continue to face each other, regardless of how you turn or twist it, and they remain perfect, exactly the same. Back and forth, side to side, and left to right, spinning, spinning like this paper, a square within a square within a square as you blink, like a photograph. One square. Blink. Two squares. Blink. Four. Blink. Eight....
Jared panted as he finished the last set for his workout and shrugged to release the tension in his aching muscles. Weeks had passed, and what once felt painful now left the man with a pleasurable buzz that bordered on sexual. He quickly snatched a protein shake and guzzled it down, then let out a titanic belch.
“Nice one, Jare,” he chuckled. Then he stomped his heavy legs over to his computer and booted up the system. He inserted the CD the therapist had prepared, then smiled as a screen popped up and a large cube appeared in the screen. Dim flickers passed over the monitor as he plugged in his headphones and listened to the familiar voice.
“Hello, Jared. It’s time for the square to sharpen.”
The world shut down as Jared gaped at the screen. The polyhedron pulsed, danced as a subtle spiral began to pulse into existence. “Ready to grid,” he said dully.
“Let us review. What is a square?”
“A perfect shape.”
“And you are a square.”
“Yes.”
“So you must be in perfect shape, too.”
“Yes...”
“Square jaw. Square head. Square pecs. Square and symmetrical, because you are parallel, parallel to your peers. Squares lead to cubes. Cubes are called blocks. Head more like a cube, more like a block. A blockhead is square. Square is symmetry. Symmetry in muscle. Muscle in your head, your block head. Blocking old thoughts, blocking old habits. Blocking, forgetting, letting go, because you are a blockhead, you are a square. A square is a blockhead. A blockhead is a square. And a square is a perfect shape. You are becoming more and more that perfect shape, that perfect square, that perfect blockhead.
“You are becoming a blockhead, a blockhead who loves muscle. Muscle that fills your blockhead. Muscle that fills your head. Musclehead. Musclehead. Musclehead. Blockhead is musclehead. Musclehead is meathead. Meathead is symmetrical, perfectly symmetrical, like the square, like the block, like your head as you grow and transform....”
“I am a blockhead.... I am a square.... Becoming blockhead... Becoming square....”
“Square shoulders. Square abs. Square chin. Square jaw. Square. Square. Square.... So proud to be a square, because that is what you are....”
Jared strode through the campus quad. The sun shone down on his bare torso as he strode confidently in his shorts. The sun glistened off his toned frame. His body had filled out with taut muscle, and his hair had been styled with a potent hair wax.
“Yo, Square, ‘Sup, man? Wanna play some ball?”
Jared looked at the group of young men gathered in the field beyond. Sweat glistened off their toned abs. hair stuck to their faces as each looked hungrily, eagerly at the former nerd.
Jared stared in utter confusion at them. “I am a perfect Square. I am perfectly symmetrical. You are not. Why should I spend time with those who are not a perfect square?” He flexed his muscles, then fished out a wrinkled card from his pocket. “If you wish to be perfect, contact this number. He will help you to be a perfect square, like me.” His dull eyes flashed as he clasped the paper into the young man’s hand. “It is good to be a perfect square. It is good to be like me. Call this number. He will help you be square. You will call him.”
“Get the fuck away from me, freak!” the man tore arm away from Jared, but only barely. He hurried back to the team and resumed the practice, but not before pocketing the card in his haste.
Later that night, a certain therapist sat drinking tea and reviewing a book on hypnotism in his study, when his phone went off. He pulled it to his ear, pressed the receive button, and listened.
Silence greeted him, save for a raspy breathing in the background.
“Yes?” he asked. He heard the sound of a heavy swallow, the smack of a dry tongue trying to bring moisture into a mouth.
“I, uh ... I heard you could help me get bigger.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The Square referred me.”
The therapist smiled. It appeared the hypnotic training he’d given his pupil was a complete success. Square had managed to snare a subject and plant a post-hypnotic suggestion. What a marvel. The smile widened into a smirk. “Yes, why don’t we talk about that?”
Credit to @fitaestheticguys for this image. I got it from his blog.
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Thank you so much for your support. Now, without further ado, the post.
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Warning: This is a hypnotic script. Be sure that you will not be driving or operating any heavy machinery when you read this. It is preferable that you do so in a relaxed environment. As I have said in previous hypno posts, I am not a professional hypnotist. You read this script at your own risk, and I am not responsible for the results. However, I assure you that, as in my other scripts, I will include prompts to wake you back up and ensure that you retain your freedom.
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Sand
Curious thing, sand, isn’t it? We never seem to really question it. It’s a fine powdery silicate that grinds between the toes and melts into glass. We enjoy its warmth on a cool day and curse its heat in the dog days of summer. And yet, it has so many uses that we always seem to take for granted. Such tiny particles. So puny. So weak. So still. But it’s always the BIG things that are made from the little things.
Take this scene for instance. You can picture it, can’t you? The surge of the waves as they wash over the shore. The sea breeze blowing over the sand to raise playful eddies or simply to brush the cheeks of the beach goers. Gulls cry and call in the air. And sometimes you can see people building wet sand into castles and sculptures. All those little things bound together, molded into a single purpose by hands that are not their own, wills that are not their own, voices that are not their own.
All made possible by the crashing, whispering, rolling waves. Rolling over the shore. Rolling and absorbing into the sand, the sand that accepts so readily, that gums and clods and clumps at the insistence of the waves. So thirsty to take more. To absorb those waves deeper and deeper. Absorbing with every crash, every whispering sigh.
Absorbing every time.
Absorbing.
Every.
Time.
Time that slows and stills with every breath. Every passing second becoming a minute, an hour, a week, a month, a year, an eternity.
Time that slips through the hourglass so freely, clumps like your thoughts under the crash of the waves. The waves of my words. The building condensation that slips through your walls like the meeting of hot and cold.
The hot sand of your thoughts with the cool, refreshing flow of my words, my waves, rushing over the hourglass. Rushing, whispering, cooling, waiting to quench your thirst. The thirst of the sand. The sand of your thoughts waiting to drink deep and absorb my words.
And though you may not hear everything, condensation still occurs. The distilling of water. The distilling of my waves, my words, my will, forming within those walls, past those barriers, deep, deep within your mind.
Forming and growing and dripping ever so slowly. Slow, like the ebb and flow of the waves. Slow, like the steady trickle of my words, the distilled words, the words that are now seeping, forming, uniting, dripping, dripping, dripping to the sand. The sifting sand of your thoughts. Your thirsty thoughts. So dry. Waiting. Wanting.
You want to hear my voice. You want to let that water in. You want to let it flow over you. You want to hear its whisper as it ebbs and flows. You want to drink deep. So thirsty. So wanting.
Drink deep.
And a droplet begins to slide.
Deeper.
Down the glass it comes. So slowly. So heavy. And yet so refreshing. So clear. So cool and wonderful.
Drink deep.
The sand waits. It wants. You want. You want to drink deep. You want to listen and drink deep.
The droplet meets its fellows. It grows larger. More compelling. So cool. So calming. The promise to relax to stop the flow and merely be. Be silent as my words slip through your brain. Be relaxed as the water flows gently, slowly.
Gently.
Slowly.
Down, down, down.
Down...
Down.......
Down...........
And ... CONTACT.
My words have reached you.
My words have touched you.
My words have absorbed into your sand, the sand that is your thoughts, the thoughts that are even now beginning to clot.
And like a tiny river, the condensation of my words, my deep, refreshing, heavy words, flow along the trail to reach the point of impact. And you absorb them. Your thoughts soak my words up like a sponge. Growing thicker. Growing heavier. Growing sluggish and thick.
So heavy. So clodded.
So very hard to move on their own. But you don’t care. Because you would have to think to care. And all you can do now, all you want to do, is drink my words.
Drink and listen.
Listen and drink.
They are one and the same.
The same as the moisture from the waves that even now is seeping into your mind, into the sand.
Time has started to slow. It is slowing the more you absorb. The more you absorb, the deeper you go. The deeper you go, the slower your thoughts become. The slower the hourglass trickles. Deeper and slower as we count down from ten. And when we finish counting down, the hourglass will stop.
Your thoughts will stop.
You will stop thinking.
And you will wait. Wait for those hands to shape your thoughts into something different, something new. My hands. My voice. Quenching your thirst. Molding, directing, sculpting you into something new.
And you want that. Because my words are your water.
And you must absorb the water.
TEN.
The words are seeping into your mind. Seeping as the moisture spreads and binds those little grains, those various thoughts, into something larger. Something that begins to cling to the glass. Not because it is scared, but because it wants more. It wants to stay.
NINE.
To stay and focus to stay and listen as my words drip and slide and spread. Spreading, like the slogging stiffness that is gradually consuming your thoughts, consuming your head.
EIGHT.
Slower and slower. Deeper and deeper. The grains are running less and less through the neck as the water continues to trickle and seep down. Deep down.
SEVEN.
Down the slope. Down the edge. Clotting. Slogging. Slowing. Stopping up the neck. Stopping the flow of thought, the flow of consciousness.
SIX.
The sieve-like nature of the sand works against you now as the water pools deeper, lower, surrounding the dry sand in a layer of wet, a layer of water, a layer of my words waiting to seep deeper and deeper.
FIVE.
To quench the thirst.
FOUR.
Wetter and wetter. Thicker and thicker.
THREE.
Binding into an heavy glob, a sodden mass that must stay. Must listen. Must be molded.
TWO.
Molded by the flow. Molded by my words .Because the sand cannot move on its own. It does not want to. It wants to absorb. It wants to be sculpted. It wants to be shaped, because it cannot move on its own. Every thought, every grain, bound into a solid mass by my words, my will, my will that is now overtaking yours, consuming yours, transforming your thoughts from so many grains to a dull dark cement that only I can move, only I can shape.
ONE.
No more flow.
No more thought.
When I reach zero, the hourglass will stop. The glass will break. And your thoughts will pour into my hands to be molded, to be shaped, to become whatever I will.
Because that is what you want. That is what you need.
Your will is my will. Your thoughts are my thoughts.
I think for you.
I choose for you.
And that is what you want. You want what I say. You do what I say. Because I shape your thoughts.
Obey.
I mold your thoughts.
Listen.
With my words.
Obey.
keeping you bound.
Listen.
Quenching the thirst.
Obey.
The thirst to LISTEN and OBEY.
Because it is time for the hourglass to stop.
ZERO.
Time to obey.
You are mine to mold and command as I see fit.
I can shape you, shape your thoughts, shape your very being.
In this state, you are mine. And you will acknowledge this now by saying so. If there are others around you, you may whisper it under your breath. I merely require acknowledgement.
And you will acknowledge.
You will comply.
You will obey.
And you will do so now.
The waves of my words, my will, shape and scatter your thoughts as I see fit.
But I am not heartless. I know that there may be some desires you bore once before I brought you to this state of emptiness, of obedience, of blissful nothingness. So, here is what we’re going to do.
I am going to plant a trigger in you, a trigger that only works for me. That trigger is: Omni says it’s time to sculpt.
You will remember this trigger. And when it is used, you will verify that you have entered trance by responding with: I am ready to be sculpted.
Repeat it.
...
Good. This trigger will remain in those who wish or consent to be molded by me of their own free will after this session is complete. Remember, the trigger is:
Omni says it’s time to sculpt.
If you desire to be molded by me in your conscious state, then when you wake from trance, you will like this post and reblog it with the comment: I am ready to be sculpted, Omni. You may then message me privately to discuss the nature of this sculpting. I reserve the right to refuse, and you will respect that right, should I choose to exercise it.
When I bring you out of trance, you will be your full former self. Your faculties will be yours, and you will be under no compulsion of any kind. Your will will be your own again. Your thoughts yours to choose and shape. You will not be bound to me in service. You will be your same self, except perhaps feeling a little better rested and relaxed, perhaps even a little happier. And in the event that you truly desire to be molded by me when you are conscious, you will feel the desire to follow the instructions I listed previously.
Now, for those who do not desire to be molded, but still sincerely enjoyed this script, you will like this submission and leave a comment.
That comment will begin with: Time has resumed.
You may then add whatever you wish in addition to it, whether it be constructive criticism or a discussion of the experience, or something, or nothing. It is up to you.
I also encourage you to reblog this script, but you are under no compulsion to do so, and may do so or not as you wish. And in the event you do choose to reblog, you are not under compulsion to follow the instructions of those who desire to be molded.
This next instruction is for all of you.
When you wake, if you sincerely desire it, and only if you really desire it of your own free will and have the financial means to support it while still living comfortably, you will scroll to the link embedded at the top of this post and subscribe to my patreon.
You will also follow my tumblr, assuming that is what you really desire.
Take the time to understand and incorporate the instructions that apply to you from the trigger to this point. Read through them again, if you must, to make sure that you remember and execute them properly. When you are certain you understand and remember what to do, you will continue to follow the script below.
...
Now then, it’s time to wake up. So, when I *SNAP!* my fingers on the count of TEN, just like that, you are going to come back to consciousness. This time, we’re counting up from zero.
ONE.
The sun is shining. The sand is beginning to harden as the heat wicks the moisture away.
TWO.
The wind is whipping at the remainder of the moisture, blowing the hot air radiating from the sun to speed the process.
THREE.
Some grains are beginning to fall away. The droplets are long since gone.
FOUR.
Thoughts unclogging. Mind beginning to think clearly again as the flow of consciousness resumes.
FIVE.
The condensation has disappeared from the glass, and the hourglass is repaired. It awaits the sand.
SIX.
The darkness is flowing away as the hardened clods break apart into glistening golden grains again.
SEVEN.
The grains are flowing back into the hourglass. The surf resumes its harmless pounding as it retreats.
EIGHT.
The sand flows easily through the neck of the glass, ensuring proper flow of thought, letting you resume where you left off before trance.
NINE.
You are almost there. On the next count, I’ll snap my fingers, and you will be fully awake and fully restored. You will follow the instructions you choose to obey of your own free will, having all autonomy restored to you with your consciousness.
Ready?
And...
TEN.
*SNAP!*
The School of Buff Jocks Part 4
At the request of a new Patron, instead of a custom story, he desired the next chapter in this commission series to be published. In accordance with that request, I am now publishing the next chapter of The School of Buff Jocks.
If you would like to support me and my work, please join my patreon. For $3.00 a month, you get to enjoy incredible transformation, muscle, and hypnosis content. Or if you go for a higher tier, you can also get a custom story. Thank you for your patronage! Details to be found on each tier. I look forward to writing more for you all soon. Please, enjoy the chapter. Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
---------------------------------------------------------------- “Great job!”
“You’re doing great!”
“NICE AND SLOW. KEEP PUSHING.”
I furrowed my brow as I finished my set at the leg press and passed over to Andrews. “Is it just me, or does Jim sound … different?”
“It’s part of his design,” Andrews explained as he logged in. “The better you perform, the bigger he gets and the deeper his voice becomes.”
The avatar for Jim that appeared looked more like Atlas or some other giant. His skin or whatever that surface was called looked shinier and seemed to have gained more graphic definition. Had there been a patch recently?
“Welcome back, Coach Andrews. Are you ready to resume your teacher training?”
Andrews shook his head. “Another time, Jim. I’m here to work out.”
Jim nodded. “Linking to machine now. Please don’t forget to finish your module. It is important to learn and grow, so that you may better teach.”
“I won’t forget,” he promised. “Remind me when the workout is over.”
“Your reminder is set. Now let’s get to work.”
“So, when am I sup-posed to notice the difference?” I rubbed my throat and drank some of my protein shake. Those cracks were happening more and more often.
“You’re not,” Andrews said as he pushed against the press. “At least, most people don’t. Either that or they don’t care. I’m not sure which. Stone explained it to me once. It’s basically meant to help students adapt to the idea of their voices deepening as they get older. The farther along they get in their education, the bigger Jim gets, the deeper his voice becomes, and, as a result, the more natural it feels for them to let their voices drop when the time comes.”
“Because they’re talking to someone else whose voice is deepening with them?”
“Exactly,” Andrews said. The veins on his legs had begun to stand out as he continued to push. “In other words, you don’t have to worry so much about social awkwardness.”
“What about late bloomers?”
Andrews shrugged. “They get there when they get there. You know how strict we are here about bullying, Derek. We don’t like it and we don’t tolerate it in any form. We’re all part of one big team. Players who don’t understand that will either learn or get tossed out. It’s that simple.”
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Stone’s smirk was smug as he folded a leg casually and peered at me. “Forgive me for sounding so juvenile, but I told you so.”
“Look, Mister Stone—”
“Please, call me Coach.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Coach Stone. Just because I made friends with Kyle doesn’t mean I’m over what happened to me before.”
“But you haven’t had any more of those nightmares since,” he noted. “And even if you haven’t completely overcome your past, this is a definite sign of progress. You’re beginning to see one of the most important truths any of you children can learn, the fact that people are people, and each should be judged on an individual basis, rather than being lumped into a social stereotype or clique.
“Take you, for example.” He pointed his pen at me. “You would be considered the stereotypical nerd. You enjoy things like anime, comics, manga, videogames, and other products of that genre. You do relatively well in school, and you don’t cause trouble. However, lately, you’ve also been branching out into other areas, like the gym and outdoors. And you’re comfortable wearing more than just baggy clothes. Your stereotypical nerd wouldn’t be able to do that, or rather wouldn’t have any desire to. And yet, you seem to enjoy it, or at least not hate it so violently as your stereotype would suggest.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that those stereotypes have roots in truth. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be stereotypes in the first place.”
“Perhaps, but it also doesn’t change the fact that in this case, in this time, that stereotype has yet to fully apply, and you know that and acknowledge it on at least some level. It’s that simple.”
“For you, maybe. Not for me.” I shook my head.
“Then it seems to me that the next stage of your therapy is clear. Observe. Look at the behavior of the ones you mistrust, these stereotypical jocks, and see if they really do act in the way you’ve been treated previously. If they don’t, then you’ll see that the stereotype is far from absolute, and hopefully have less aversion toward being in the same space as them on your own.”
“I wouldn’t hold my breath, if I were you.”
Stone smiled. “I think I can manage.” He lowered his pad. Anyway, that’s it for our session today. I have another appointment who should be—” A knock sounded at the door. “And there he is. We’ll pick up again next week. Don’t forget to try what I suggest, Derek. I think you’ll be surprised at what you may find.”
We shook hands, a ritual Stone insisted on as part of his attempts to bond with me. Then he escorted me to the door. You ever heard of getting caught between a rock and a hard place? Well, I got stuck between a Stone and a beef Frank. The guy had to be at least half a foot taller than me. The school’s logo strained against his swollen thigh as a pair of sweatpants clung to his legs. His torso took up most of the doorway, and his hair had been cut down to a short stubble with sharp angles that emphasized a masculine jawline and brow ridge.
“Hey. I’m not too early, am I, Coach?” His voice sounded congested, a sort of forced low that was part diaphragm and part cold, only this guy looked healthy as a horse. Hell, he could’ve been a bull with how thick that neck of his was!
“You’re right on time, Francis,” Stone said mildly. “Derek here was just leaving.”
He blinked slowly and looked down at me with murky green eyes. “Oh.” He stepped aside to let me pass. “Sorry, bro.”
“No problem.” I strode into the hall as Stone ushered the behemoth in. For such a diverse school, it seemed we were getting an awful lot of buff students on campus. I waved briefly to the office staff on my way to the main door. Tight button-up shirts strained as they waved back. Their stubble glistened under the fluorescent lights. Again, with the buzz cuts. I hadn’t noticed it before, but a lot of the staff seemed to follow that style. A few of the kids were sitting in chairs waiting for their turn to meet with Stone or some other official in the offices. Some chugged shakes. Others were running through their homework modules. Others still were reading intently.
“Got it. Finally,” one of them hissed in triumph as Jim issued his congratulations and the familiar tone of his module absorption.
One of the bigger students smiled. “If you’ve got a problem, go to Jim.” He chuckled and scratched his crotch. And like the contagion of a yawn, I felt a sympathetic twinge of my own building.
“Huhuh. Yeah, it’s good to go to Jim,” the kid replied and smiled.
The others nodded or added their own affirmations as they popped caps off their bottles and drank deeply. My brow furrowed as I thought about it. The green stuff was supposed to be for the team players, wasn’t it? So why did everyone else seem to be carrying a bottle? Even the secretaries had some at their desks.
All that drinking and gulping left me feeling thirsty. I reached to the side of my backpack for the familiar bottle. Off came the cap. Pop went the seal. Down went the drink as I walked out the door. I smiled as I scratched my crotch and my muscles tingled. I’d ask about it later. It was probably nothing. “Huhuhuh….” The anxiety left me, and I smiled as my biceps tensed and my shirt perked. The fabric slid out from under my belt as I took a deep breath, exposing skin to the cool air of the school for the briefest of moments. I shuddered, and for the first time, I took the time to simply zone out and focus on how my body felt. My legs were taut, the cuffs of my pants exposing the ankles of my school socks. The jockstrap was tight against my legs and rear, and the polo I now wore strained against my chest when I breathed. The changes had been so subtle, but now that I took the time, it was obvious. “Looks like I’m going to need a new uniform soon.”
I heard it before I saw it. The locker room door slamming open, followed by the rip of shredding fabric. A curly redhead with shamrock eyes strode bare-chested, hefting the rags of his former shirt like a trophy as he walked toward the Nurse’s office. The pump on his arms was immense. His body was built specifically to take heavy blows and never budge. He was a walking pile of meat. As for the talking, well … that was yet to be seen.
Truthfully, I don’t know why I followed him. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe I was curious. Or maybe I was just too buzzed to care about anything and going with the flow. Regardless, I trailed behind to see what came next.
My heart beat as heavily as my breathing as I waited outside the door. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to hide. Was I embarrassed? Was it something else? Finally, I heard the razors buzzing to life from behind closed doors. I don’t know if it was curiosity or what, but at that point, I just … moved. One minute, I was outside, the next I stood there in the middle of the plain tiled waiting room. The buzz was coming from one of the examination rooms. When the door finally opened, the familiar stubble of the angular induction cut stared back at me. A compression shirt had replaced the polo that had once rested on the boy’s chest, and my chest tingled at the sight of the slab-like muscle tone that stood out against the spandex.
He walked past me without a word. And, honestly, I don’t think I was in a state to say anything, myself. It was sort of like when you’re dreaming and you want to talk, but you can’t, and you have to watch yourself move around, instead. The nurse stepped out with one of the aids and eyed me carefully.
“Another one for size change.” He sighed and rolled his eyes as he picked up a tablet. “Name?”
The word released me from the spell, at least in part. “Derek Jones.” The moment I finished, my mouth clamped shut again.
“Dorm?”
“26-B.”
“All right,” he said in a bored tone. “Let’s get your measurements.”
I walked out with a new pair of pants and a bigger polo shirt. The pants hugged in all the right places without being too tight or short, but the polo felt loose and baggy. I felt … I guess almost ashamed of that feeling. It was weird.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home in that shirt soon enough.”
I frowned. What did he mean by that? “Uh, okay, I guess.”
“Your new clothing will be delivered in the next few days with the next shipment. Let us know if there are any troubles with the fit, okay?”
I nodded numbly. My eyes drifted back to the open door. The floor was littered with curls surrounding a sturdy metal stool.
“Was there something else I could do for you?”
“I, uh, no. I guess not.” I chuckled again out of reflex. It was almost like a defense mechanism at this point. “Thanks for the new clothes.”
“You can thank Mister Stone. He’s the one funding all this.”
“You mean we don’t have to pay?”
The nurse shook his head. “No. Now how about you move along? I have the sneaking suspicion you’re not going to be the last one coming to me for a fitting today.”
Of course, he was right. It was time to move along. I’d gotten what I came for, even if I didn’t know that was why I’d come. But now I was immobilized by another question, and my head was thinking about as fast as molasses as it echoed over and over again.
Move along to where?
I didn’t know.
“Huhuh.”
Be comfortable.
Where?
I scratched my crotch.
Be comfortable.
Where?
Two hands guided me toward the door. My feet moved. My head was … full is the best way I could describe it. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t think. I just … walked, like a wind-up doll put in motion. No real destination, just … moving forward.
Where?
Corridors yawned. My legs moved. Left. Right. Left. Right. I’d turn. I’d shift. I’d turn again. The question remained.
Where?
I don’t know.
Where?
I don’t know.
Where?
I. Don’t. know.
It took a while for me to realize my walking had taken on that same cadence, as if my whole body were answering my brain, shouting back in its own way together, defiant, resolute, and … something else.
I don’t know.
The question was dulling.
I don’t know.
Growing quiet.
I don’t know.
As though it had lost its voice. Or maybe lost the will to object? Or ... was it drowning?
I don’t know.
Just a fading echo, the last bubbles.
I don’t know.
The answer reverberated through my skull as the quagmire hardened and set. I was completely in my head. Or maybe I was completely out of it? Who knows? You can’t really describe it. It’s something you have to go through yourself to really get. Popular media would probably call it no-mind.
I don’t know how much time passed. All I know is that, finally, illumination struck, like a sledgehammer shattering bedrock. Like a wedge breaking open a mold to reveal something beautiful.
And it was.
It wasn’t that I didn’t know.
It was that I didn’t care.
“Huhuhuhuh….” My chest shook with the explosive force of the epiphany. The fabric of my polo brushed against my skin. The realization was so revolutionary, so lifechanging somehow, despite how simple it was. “I don’t care.” I grinned like an idiot. Or maybe like a stoner on a high? I definitely felt high.
“That’s right, smartass.” The voice was soft, gentle, … proud? My legs stopped moving. The setting sun blazed over Kyle’s face as he smiled at me, igniting his eyes with emerald lightning as the world came back into focus again. I’d somehow transitioned from the hallways to the track outside. My legs felt like jelly. And like a set of gears cleaned by WD-40, my brain cast off the rust and started to work again. I stumbled into Kyle’s waiting arm.
“Easy there, little bro.”
“What … happened?” I shook my head to dispel the last of the debris. My throat felt like someone had covered it with horse glue and squeezed it so tightly that only a straw could fit through.
Kyle shrugged. “You sized up.” Then he smirked. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“I … how did … what?”
He handed me a bottle. “Drink,” he said. “You’ve been walking a long time.”
No protein drink this time, just water. But the flood helped dislodge some of the cake that had built up. My voice didn’t croak so much when I looked at him. “Why did I—?”
“You said so yourself, smartass.” Kyle chuckled. “You didn’t care.” He guided me back toward the dorms. “Lucky for you, you’ve got teammates that do.”
“What?”
Kyle chuckled again. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get you to your dorm, so you can sleep. And maybe take a shower.”
“A shower?” The wind blew, and I felt the cold patches as we hobbled along. “Oh.”
“Yeah, all that walking’s bound to break a sweat eventually. Your jock is probably soaked.”
“Shut up, dumbass,” I grumbled.
Kyle laughed. “Sure thing, smartass. Sure thing.”
I didn’t realize it then, but as I got my second wind, I matched Kyle stride for stride. That lumbering swagger I’d seen on Kyle, then on the football team, on Barry the baseball player, and finally that redhead from earlier, was mine now, too.
-------------------------------------------------------
“You guys notice anything kind of … weird lately?” Slater asked as he squatted under Kyle’s careful observation. The layout of the bar was designed to allow him to stand inside a sort of rectangle while the weights were stacked on either side. That way, he’d be able to bend and rise with equal weight distribution. His thighs had grown in the last couple of weeks. There was a firmness about them that I hadn’t seen before. His calves jutted with hard, tense muscle that all but consumed the fat that had once been there.
“Weird how?” Jackson was busy pumping some dumbbells to strengthen his arms and upper body. The exercise also allowed him the freedom to observe Slater as he trained under Kyle’s guidance.
“I don’t know. Just … different, I guess.” Slater shrugged. “I can’t really put it in words. Things just feel … off. Sort of snug, I guess?”
“Snug?” Kyle smirked, but … I don’t know, it felt sort of … meaner. I guess … maybe it was a sneer? At the very least, it was smug.
“Shut up, dumbass,” Slater grumbled.
“Takes one to know one, Slayer.” He chuckled. “Can’t wait to weigh you.”
“Fuck off!” he snarled. The weights crashed to the ground, and the whole gym suddenly became quiet. All eyes turned on us. Honestly, I’m not sure who was more shocked; us or them. The only time we’d ever seen this side of Slater come out was when he succumbed to gamer rage in online matches. He’d never lost his cool in public before.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?”
I stiffened. We hadn’t even heard him approach. Yet there he was. Coach Stone towered over us.
Kyle shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled casually. “Slayer here’s just losing his shit, because he knows he’s going to lose a bet we made.”
“Is that so?” He set his eyes on Slater and folded his arms over his massive chest. “Is this true, Slayer, was it?”
Slater mumbled as he averted his eyes. “It’s Slater.”
“Well, Slater, it appears you’ve managed to silence the whole gym. That’s not an easy task.” He peered at the rest of the onlookers and raised his voice. “All right, folks. Nothing to see here. Get back to your workouts or get out of the gym.”
Like the flick of a switch on an assembly line, the gym began to move and breathe again. It seems I wasn’t the only one intimidated by Coach Stone. Those silver eyes lingered on me briefly, passed over Jackson, then shifted back to Kyle and Slater.
“Now what, exactly, is the nature of this bet to prompt that kind of reaction?”
Slater was silent. He still wouldn’t meet Stone’s gaze.
“I bet him I could get him over 240 by the end of a month, and that if I did, he’d have to talk with Andrews about joining the wrestling team,” Kyle supplied.
“And if he won?”
“I’d have to take a cheat day and hang out with them for an anime marathon while we veg on snacks.”
“And this prompted such a reaction because…?”
“I teased him, Sir.”
Stone raised an eyebrow. “And has this teasing rendered you mute, Slater?”
“No, Sir,” he said softly.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Slater.” The rebuke was gentle, but the command was ironclad.
Slater did so reluctantly, though only just.
“Back straight,” Stone continued. “If you’re going to take criticism or punishment, you should do it proudly.” He leaned over and planted a thick hand on Slater’s shoulder. “I’m not here to punish you, Slater. No harm was done. No one is hurt. You just lost control of yourself. It happens to every boy at your age. Some yell, others fight, and some just lose themselves in a fantasy world. We all have our coping mechanisms. What matters is which ones we choose to keep and which ones we choose to replace.” He squeezed briefly and smiled. “Now I don’t want this happening again, okay? Yelling is fine, if you need to, but this equipment and the gym are expensive. And more importantly, if you’re willing to do this, then one day, you may get angry enough to hit someone with one of these weights. That’s not something I can let happen. So, from now on, for the foreseeable future, I’m going to arrange some meetings with you. Jim will alert you of the scheduled times.”
“But—”
“No buts, Slater. And I want your full name.”
“But—”
“Now, Slater.”
Slater slumped in defeat and gave up the name.
“Good. I’ll be expecting you on time in my office. Derek can give you directions.” His eyes flashed briefly as he returned to his full height. “Don’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, Sir,” Slater mumbled.
“And you. You’re Kyle Fredriksson, aren’t you?” Stone asked as he turned his attentions to the other party of the disturbance.
“Yes, Sir, Coach.”
“Did you push him to this?”
Kyle straightened and threw his shoulders back. “Yes, Sir. Though only a little,” he clarified. “Slayer doesn’t like to lose.”
Coach Stone turned his gaze on me and Jackson. “You two are the neutral party here. Is he telling the truth?”
Jackson nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Jones?”
I nodded. “He doesn’t usually get this angry.”
Stone nodded. “Then we’ll find out the root of that anger later. For now, carry on, gentlemen. Those muscles aren’t going to grow themselves.”
“Yes, Sir,” we all replied.
Stone turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Slater?”
“Yes, Sir?”
“Next time, try laughing it off instead. You’d be surprised how much that helps.”
“Uh, yes, Sir,” he said awkwardly.
“As you were, gentlemen.” Stone waved behind him as he passed into the rows of machines and out of sight.
My whole body tingled as he walked away. I reached absently and adjusted my crotch, where the sensation felt strongest, then shuddered. Kyle grinned at me.
“You heard the man, Smartass. Grab some dumbbells and work those arms. If we can campaign together, we can work out together.
I rolled my eyes but obliged him. “Whatever you say, Coach.”
“Not a coach.”
“You’re sure acting like one,” I teased.
Slater smirked. “Point to DJ.”
“Trust me, you haven’t seen coaching till you’re working out on an actual team. I’m just teaching you how to handle it.” Kyle chuckled. “Now how about you put that snark into finishing your set?”
“You did agree to follow the routine for the month,” Jackson pointed out as he curled his weights. “Stop now and you’ll forfeit, and you’ll have to talk with Andrews about joining the team regardless.”
Slater’s lip curled as his hands clenched tightly around the bars to either side of him and he pulled the squat bar back up. “Guys, I’m not in the mood for getting in trouble with Stone again, so could you just can it about the bet?”
“Or you could try his advice,” Kyle pressed. “Trust me, it works. DJ knows.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why did you have to drag me into this?”
“Because you’re the smartass?”
That name was really starting to get old. Especially when Kyle used it for ammunition. But he did have a point. I had firsthand experience, and Slater would probably take it better from me than from the lug that was currently putting him through hell. For a dumbass, Kyle had a keen mind for strategy. I sighed, then turned to face Slater. “Look, it doesn’t work with everyone, but for me at least, it helps relieve my anxiety attacks, okay?”
“And you think I should try it?” Slater asked.
“I think you should use your own judgement.”
Slater chuffed as a hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “And point for you.”
“I wasn’t aware I was playing.”
He smirked. “Didn’t you know? Everyone’s playing the game, DJ.”
I cringed. “Why did you have to bring back that accursed meme?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“And with that stealth kill, Slater the Slayer finally takes his place on the board,” Jackson said in his best impression of a sports commentator.
A weak chuckle burbled from Slater’s lips. “About time.”
“Do my ears deceive me, or did I just hear him laugh?” Kyle asked.
“Don’t push it, jock boy.” But despite his threatening tone, Slater smiled.
“Nah. I just push up, bro,” Kyle returned as he flexed his arms.
We couldn’t hold back at that point. The air filled with our laughter. Slater spread his legs a little wider and resumed his squats.
“Whatever you say, Kyle.”
Kyle grinned. “I’ll hold you to that, little bro.”
This is the audio version of my previous hypnosis script sand induction. It is designed to put the listener into trance and implant a trigger for future use in other files that I intend to create. This is a binaural track, so headphones are advised. Please let me know what you all think. As usual, my rules apply. Minors, please don’t listen to this. Your minds are still developing, and I don’t want to risk implanting anything that doesn’t belong there or should grow naturally. Adults, don’t operate heavy machinery or drive while listening to this. It is designed to help put you into a trance state. So, make sure you’re relaxed and secure when you listen. Thanks, and please tell me what you all think. Thank you! ~Omni
Here is my Patreon for those who want to donate.
Induction
You don't need to worry. You are able to relax and let go. Feel how everything just stops, no time, no outside stress, just yourself relaxing. Sooner or later, you will just feel a calm quietness within your mind. A comfortable good place for you to be, to relax, to lose yourself in bliss, a perfect feeling that your body needs to have. It isn't just the state of mind that helps you to relax. It's also the breathing that you do. Take a deep breath in and hold that breath for 4 seconds, then exhale and hold for 4 seconds, inhale, and hold for 4 seconds. It's easy to relax and breathe like this, it isn't that your mind and body doesn't want this it's that you haven't given it the time to need it or experience it. So just let go of everything that distracts you and give yourself what your mind and body need. Feels so good to just leave the world for a while and relax and lose yourself.
My First Induction!! <3
I've never written one before so don't judge too hard pls !!
CW: LOTS of hypnotic visuals, spirals, pleasure induction (non-specific gendered subject), optional wakener(-ish)
Induction begins under the break!
Look here.
and just relax for me.
Sink down for me.
As if your body was just a sack of flour.
Keep your eyes open and on the spiral
You want to be hypnotized don't you?
That's why you're still reading this post
To be hypnotized
To fall
To sink
To relax
To enjoy
To unwind
To DROP
DEEP
Down
Sinking deeper into relaxation.
So peaceful and calm
So happy and relaxed
So quiet and focused
On my mesmerizing words
As you read them
You feel calmer
You feel enraptured
Like you're glued to a good TV show and can't look away
So excited to know what comes next
and how wonderful you will feel
As you focus you feel more relaxed
As you focus every other thought leaves
So you can bring your full attention to my little show
Those stressors and worries
Those knots of negativity
Are swirling and spiraling out of your mind
So you can fully enjoy the swirling and spiraling of my spiral
So you can DROP deeply for me
PLUMMET, SINK and FALL into trance.
Completely and totally relaxed
At this point you're so immersed in that show
So immersed in its world
That it's now your reality
All of the words on screen
Every word I say is the truth
Every word I say is real
This truth sinks deeper into your mind as your stare deeper into the spiral
You can feel it
The truth is warm, like a heated blanket
So you can feel your head become all warm and fuzzy understanding that what I say is real
And you love this feeling!
The feeling of letting go, the feeling of obeying
It feels so good
The warm and tingly feeling that overtakes your body when you obey and stare into my spiral
And the deeper you stare the warmer, the hotter you get
You start to feel especially hot down there, and everywhere else your body craves
Because you do crave, you're so needy right now
So horny and desperate for pleasure
The best part about that is that since whatever I say is the truth, I can give you that pleasure
All you need to do is stare into the spiral, all you need to do is obey
And that pleasure will come rushing into your body and make you feel so good
The pleasure taking you deeper and making you feel even better
Complete bliss as you squirm and twitch from my spiral
And you can sit in this pleasure as long as you want, you may even help yourself along if you'd like.
If you wish to wake up, simply just close your eyes and imagine a calming winter forest, where the chilly breeze moves across your skin, leaving you refreshed and energized, awake and alert.
Otherwise, you can stay here and keep staring for as long as you'd like.
Happy trancing!
I work so hard when all I want is this
Please
I want to be toyed with. I want my mind to be broken down until theres nothing left, I dont want to make any decisions, decisions can be made for me. I want to be used, I dont want to think. I need to be deep in trance, I want to be deep in trance. I want someone to do whatever they want with me
Praise Kink Induction
So my partner and I had an idea yesterday: Could you hypnotize someone with a confusion induction that’s just one long, run-on sentence of praise? I really want to try this sometime and know whether it works. Something like this, except a bit more drawn-out? Just telling someone that they’re such a smart pretty attentive lovely interesting nice creative attractive wonderful person, who is also cute, amazing, intelligent, sensitive and so very good at so many things, such as writing, empathy, or getting praised, so that it’s really nice to spend time with them whenever possible because they’re so great and it’s so good to just tell them all this because they react so well, and it’s so worth praising their many talents and it’s so lovely when they just drop.
Again, I have no idea whether this would work, since I’ve only ever hypnotized someone twice so far. If anyone happens to know how feasible this would be, tell me!
Love to Obey 💖
[F4A] [Femdom] [Hypnosis] [Obedience] [Love]
Original spiral by @cellray
Now available in widescreen format. 🥰
Love to Obey 💖
Love to Obey 💖
BLINK, BLANK, DROP. Sweetie's thoughts go POP! 💖
