Giggling Again for No Reason

The man across the table from Candace gave her a smile that was just a little too friendly, a little too patient. "So tell me more about this hypnotist of yours," he said, using the same tone a teacher might employ to talk to very small children about their imaginary friends. "You said that he was actually making you, er, dumber?" He looked down at a sheaf of notes, as if double-checking to make sure that he was actually reading everything right. Candace felt the first hints of an embarrassed blush creeping up her chubby pink cheeks, and she tried hard to stifle a sudden impulse to burst into nervous laughter.

But if she started laughing, she knew how hard it would be to stop. And Candace knew she needed to act serious if she ever wanted to convince her interviewer of the truth of her words. So she swallowed hard and forced herself to look him square in the eye as she replied. "Not just dumber," she said, trying not to let her voice drift into the breathy upper registers it had gotten used to. "He did, uhm... he did lots of stuff, uhm, to my, like, my brain. Uhm, he made me feel all... uhm...." Candace could feel her brain hitting each of the little 'uhms' in her speech like speed bumps, each one forcing her to pause and take stock and consciously remember where her train of thought was leading.

Sometimes she couldn't. "Sorry," she giggled, laughter bubbling up around each work and making her cheeks crinkle into a wide, helpless grin, "w-what was I saying?" Candace felt a surge of wet heat between her legs as she felt the bubble of concentration pop, leaving her helplessly tittering again for no real reason right in front of the man she desperately needed to convince of the truth of her words. The worst part was, she wasn't even sure if she was getting turned on despite her embarrassment, or because of it. Her brain had been kinked up in so many knots--and knotted up with so many kinks, for that matter--that the very thought of being seen as nothing more than a silly little ditz made her pussy ache with arousal.

Lucky for her, her interviewer seemed to have a limitless supply of patience for Candace's feeble brain. "You were saying he made you more than just dumb. That he did other things to your mind with... ahem. With hypnosis." The sardonic emphasis he put on those last two words made it clear that he didn't believe her, even if he did seem to be willing to spend an exhaustive amount of his time and energy questioning her about the man he apparently didn't even believe existed. Was he trying to get her to admit to something? Was he hoping to trick her into some kind of a confession? With a start, Candace realized she didn't even know how she wound up in this room.

Her tongue suddenly tied with anxiety, Candace furrowed her brow and tried to concentrate extra hard on what she was saying. "Uhmm..." she mumbled, not off to a great start, "he, like, yeah, he made... uhm... he made me all horny? Uhm, like, he tied them up, uhm, in my brain. So, like, uhm, getting dumb makes me horny, uhm, and getting horny makes me, uhm, dumb." Candace could feel the little metronome ticking away in the back of her head, marking off every fifth word and inserting the thought-stopping 'uhm' that made her sound so helplessly foolish to anyone who listened. Something in her head was still smart, or at least smart enough to count to five, but the hypnotic suggestions floating through her mind made it impossible to access that intelligence.

"I see," the interviewer said, scribbling a note on one of his many pieces of paper. Candace couldn't tell whether his handwriting was terrible, or whether she was legitimately having difficulty with basic literacy, and her cunt grew slick at the possibility that it might be the latter. "And so it's not you that has trouble thinking, or that maybe winds up doing sexual things in places that maybe you shouldn't. It's this hypnotist doing it to you."

Candace didn't like the sound of that. She wished she could remember exactly what happened to get her into this windowless room with blank, featureless walls and single door, but every time she tried to stretch her recollections back to before the beginning of the interview she found her thoughts descending into a featureless pink mist that Candace knew all too well from her previous sessions with her hypnotic Master. She understood all too well that her memories and perceptions were exactly what he wanted them to be, no more and no less.

She only wished that didn't turn her on so fucking much. "Yeah, it's, like, his... uhm...." Her brain ticked off another five words from the last 'uhm' as though running with the precision of a Swiss watch, an irony that only made Candace more and more desperate to play with herself through her clothes. "I try to fight it," she said, her expression growing serious for a moment as she made her most sincere appeal to the skeptical man across the table. "Uhm, but it just feels too, uhm, good." Her hand crept down between her legs, unable to resist the growing heat in her pussy any longer.

If Candace's interviewer noticed her pawing at her cunt through her jumpsuit, he didn't say anything. He only frowned at his papers again, as if the key to the mystery in front of him lay somewhere in his notes, then looked back at her with a stern expression on his face. "And can you... describe this hypnotist?" he asked, sounding for all the world as if a little bit of his veneer of endless patience was finally cracking. "Does he have a name, perhaps?"

Candace looked back at him, her eyes wide and pleading, her forehead muscles visibly straining under the force of her desperate efforts at concentration until she felt something give way inside her mind and her thoughts popped into a warm peal of helpless giggles. "S-sorry," she tittered weakly, the heel of her hand grinding even harder against her slick, messy cunt. "I, I can't, uhm, he... like, he locked up, uhm, all my, my memoramies of, uhm... him." Hearing herself mispronounce such a simple word--a word Candace knew she knew before the constant brainwashing muddled her thoughts and left her dumb and drippy and unable to resist her Master's programming--made her so wet that she could feel her pussy leaking into her panties.

"Try harder," the interviewer said, putting a little steel in his voice for the first time. All it made Candace do was laugh harder, though; she could feel tears streaming down her face as her efforts at concentration short-circuited themselves in the loop of Master's brainwashing and melted down into helpless, hysterical giggles that only made her pussy throb even more. "You, you said he was a hypnotist; do you remember his eyes, maybe?" He had to have noticed her masturbation by this point--Candace was practically humping her hand now, pressing down right over her clit and rubbing forcefully until the room became a hazy blur around her. But he still wasn't saying anything about it. Candace wondered if he'd already tried and failed to get her to stop playing with herself and she'd just forgotten the conversation.

"His, his eyes, yeah," she mumbled, finally forcing the laughter back under control at the cost of all her struggle to make progress through the pink mist limiting her intellect. "Uhm, they're, like... they're really, y'know, uhm...." She groped for words to describe them, knowing that her vocabulary was diminishing with every passing moment despite her best efforts to clear her head with an orgasm or two. "Pretty?" she finally hazarded, giving up on everything but her efforts to furtively wriggle out of the jumpsuit she was wearing. It wasn't easy, though, not with the zipper all the way up to the collar.

The interviewers lips went thin. "Pretty," he said, watching Candace as she reached up and dragged the zipper all the way down to her crotch while looking at him with a guilty expression on her face. "Ma'am, do you know what could happen to you if you can't prove that a hypnotist is responsible for your recent behavior? Do you understand the consequences if you can't produce this person to testify as to your diminished capacity?" Candace looked at him blankly, sliding her fingers into her panties and pushing two fingers into her cunt with a wet squishing noise. It took her almost a full minute to find the words to speak.

"W-what does, what does, uhm, 'ree-spon-subble' mean?" she asked, feeling her pussy gush around her fingers at the sound of her own dopey, amiable murmurs. "And, and that, uhm, that other one, 'bee-hay-veey-er'. And, uhm...." She felt herself blushing, and found herself giggling again as her cunt clenched hard in ecstasy. "All the other big words?" God, she knew how she had to look and sound right now. The man across the table had to think she was the dumbest slut he'd ever met in his... his law job, or whatever he did that put him in this room with her. There was no way he'd believe she was ever smart, not when he could see her pawing her cunny and letting out laugh after tittering, bubbly laugh.

"It means," he said, looking very stern and serious now, "that if we can't find your hypnotist and get him to admit he did this to you, we'll have to act like this is just who you are." His voice was full of exquisitely tortured patience as he broke every idea down into its smallest and simplest form to get it across to the half-naked woman who'd already shrugged her way out of the armholes of her jumpsuit and was looking at him with a glazed expression on her face and her hands busy with her tits and pussy. Candace only slowly realized that woman was her.

"Is this who you are, Candace? Or can you tell me more about this hypnotist of yours? Can you tell me his name, his address, how you met him, where you go to be hypnotized... anything, Candace. Anything at all?" Candace opened her mouth, trying as hard as she could to stammer out an answer... but the pleasure of being a vacuous, brainwashed slut pulsed too strongly in her mind now, and all she could do was sit there with drool trickling down her chin and her eyes glassy and blank. The answer to every single one of the interviewer's questions led her back into the pink fog, and she couldn't seem to find her way back out again without help.

"Uhm... dunno?" she mumbled at last, through slack and nerveless lips that perpetually attempted to reshape themselves into a cocksucking 'O'. It was the last thought Candace had before her cunt erupted into a blinding orgasm that left her panties soaking wet and her body shuddering and quaking against her chair. She heard herself giggling again, the conflict between her desire to please the interviewer and the programming in her head resolving itself over and over into peals of helpless laughter that melted the final few dregs of wit out of her brain and left her a dumb, horny animal for her Master.

Who stood up and went around the table to give her a wet, sloppy kiss. "That's my good girl!" he cooed, unzipping his fly and taking out his cock for Candace to suck. "I think you're ready, pretty girl. I think you've finally become my perfect little brainwashed bimbo slut, don't you?" Candace nodded, and nodded, and nodded again, her head bobbing up and down on the warm stiff shaft in front of her as she sank into the blissful rhythm of fellatio and let her mind tumble away into obedience. She was so grateful to have passed Master's final test, proven to him once and for all that she would hold his interests paramount in her mind, and she knew that this was only the beginning of the greater raptures to come under his complete, total control.

THE END