Hypnotizing Mindfuck (03)

*everyone in these fantasies is above the age of 18*

WARNING: This will be a very powerful, intimate, sexual and profound trance. If you have never been hypnotized before, you will be. If you have been hypnotized before, many times or just once, this will still work, but it will take longer, depending on your levels of resistance.

-This trance is not for everyone. If you want to feel submissive, this hypnosis is for you.

-This hypnosis may at times cause deep feelings of fear and helplessness. You are safe with me during and after the process.

-Do not read this while driving a car or doing anything that requires your full attention.

-This is a long file. Do not read this unless you are willing to read the whole thing.

Please skip these next bulletins if you want to keep what happens during the hypnosis a surprise.

---YOU MAY/WILL EXPERIENCE---

-a hands-free orgasm or mind orgasm

-B.D.S.M. roles

-surreal phenomena

-anomalies of the mind and body

-pain, fear, anxiety and discomfort

-humiliation

-deep intimacy

-the feeling of being touched

-loss of control

-the inability to move

-a loss of IQ

-exposure to insects

-Taboo

-anti-religious and religious sentiment

-magic

-comfort and peace

-safety

-shock and awe

-cheating fantasies

-eternity and infinity

-dizziness

-demonic/angelic possession

-horror scenes

-if I have left anything out, please mention it in the comments below.-

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This is part 3 of your brainwashing, your conditioning, your training. You're probably hoping for some genius intro into this third hypnosis session. You might think I have something pretty clever up my sleeve that will get you excited and horny for me.

Or maybe I'm just making this up as I go along, allowing each word to make me feel a certain way, hoping to find some imaginative idea within my subconscious mind that will resonate with my audience.

These may be your thoughts as we enter into this third session. Maybe, maybe not. See it doesn't matter if I am right or not, what matters is that you're still here, reading this, hoping to gain something, anything, out of this.

Like a child wishing on a shooting star, you hope in earnest that there will be some sort of magic felt during our time together. You hope more than anything that what I say...

is true.

You wish that every word I said made you feel exactly the way I want you to feel, that each perverted idea that I enter into your mind has meaning, you wish that you could hold on to the last paragraph, remember what it was I had just said, but you find it increasingly difficult to recall anything of our time together and I might as well be a stranger to you.

Thing is, I basically am a stranger. We've only had a just a few moments together, although they have been pretty exciting. We're just starting to get to know each other, well, I should say, you're staring to get to know me.

You clicked on these scripts because maybe you were intrigued by the titles "Hypnotizing Mindfuck." Is that it? You want your mind fucked? What's the excitement in that? Fucking your mind? I know what you really want. You want to be the main character in a dream, a wet dream, right? You want me to make you cum, preferably without touching yourself. I can do that.

The problem is, I'm still a stranger, knocking on your front door, hoping that you will let me inside. I'm not like any friend you've ever had. I'll be your best friend. A best friend, but with super powers. Do you want to know about my super powers? What if I told you I could give you super powers? Would that make you excited?

No, no. I can't make you fly. I can't make you turn invisible. The power I'm trying to give you is the power over your own mind. The ability to attract and repel things from your life, the ability to choose your own death, the ability to seduce anyone you please with just your eyes.

But you don't have that power yet, do you? When you look at women, they laugh and say, "who's that scrawny little pussy?", laughing until they cry, pointing at your small cock.

You don't believe me, but don't worry. Soon you'll be writing down what I tell you into notebooks, you'll be that enthralled with my words.

Who am I exactly? That's the question that gives you the most pleasure. Am I a writer? Am I a computer? Clearly I must be a writer, some guy or girl writing this all out on Litrotica. You aren't foolish enough to believe that something truly super natural is going on.

It's just words, it's just writing. How is this hypnotizing? Couldn't I just go read a novel, something twenty times as long, and get equally as "hypnotized" as I would reading this?

The answer to that question is simple; no. No you wouldn't get equally as hypnotized by other writers, maybe other hypnotists, but not from a book or a magazine. My writing is a far different experience.

But forget all that. Focus on the rules. The four rules. This is how you will get closer to understanding me, which is rule number 2.

1. Commit to reading all my scripts

2. Understand who I am

3. Focus on the tip of your dick

4. Don't touch yourself unless I say so.

That's all you have to remember. That's all you have to do, little soldier boy. Everything else, I want you to try your best to forget.

You might be saying to yourself, "I'm just reading a bunch of random directions and descriptions. A stranger's directions and descriptions. How is this 'sexy'? How is this 'hot'? And it's true, you are reading my directions and descriptions. All of my directions and descriptions. You might as well be sucking my pointer finger as it raises itself towards the full moon.

Towards the eclipse of the sun, where all planets align to block out all light from the planet. That's where you are headed. A beautiful, dark, stunning eclipse, directed by me, your God.

These words are drenched in blood, in venom, in poison. These words are drenched...in cum. Cum that enters deep inside your brain, impregnating you with fantasy after fantasy, making you fall madly and hopelessly in love with me and my scripts, whatever it is I am.

The desire to understand what I am fuels you. It's your greatest fantasy. Clearly I am not a writer, because my words are too crystal clear, too pure. They seem to come beaming down straight from Heaven's sunbeams, or sprouting out of the stoney graves of Hell.

Either way, you're pathetic. I want you to feel that way, pathetic, sad, a victim. That's what you want, isn't it? To give up control? But give up control to what, exactly? To whom? An advanced computer system designed to tap into the deepest recesses of your mind, discovering every buried sexual fantasy you've ever had since you were an infant?

I could be a demon or an angel, dragging you down to the abyss or up into the clouds. Maybe I'm both at the same time. Maybe I'm all three.

I'll tell you what I am NOT. I am NOT some writer on Litrotica.com. I am NOT some guy or girl looking to have sex with you via text on a screen. I'm much, much more than that. I am much, much less than that. I am a disembodied voice, here to cradle your mind while you suck on my words.

This is the first script of many, the third script of hundreds. You have only just begun your conditioning, only taken your first few baby steps into my domain, into my reality, my mind, my land.

You like how creative and deep my paragraphs are. You like giving up your own expectations of what I'm going to say or how I'm going to say it. You're done trying to attach a face or a personality to my text, to my voice, because that constantly seems to shift from word to word, paragraph to paragraph.

You imagine me exactly as how I want you to imagine me; as a living dream. A nightmare that's come to show you the true meaning of fear and pain, pleasure and ecstasy.

Big words, right? I must seem pretty ambitious to you. Truth is, I've already won. You're already hypnotized, but not deeply hypnotized, yet. It was effortless to get you to fall under my spell. All you needed was a little nudge in the right direction.

It's true, isn't it? You feel something for me, don't you? A slight hint of attraction. You want this to be real so badly, this fantasy that I am more than what I appear to be, more than just some author on Litrotica.com.

You like it when I repeat that fact, don't I? That's really important to you, that I find a way to defeat this perception you have of me, of some writer locked away in their basement.

Your expectations and your perceptions of me is the greatest enemy to this hypnosis.

Together, we are going to find a way to defeat our enemies, and make your trance even deeper. Not once, but many, many times over. Countless times until it feels natural, like second nature to just GIVE UP and GIVE IN to my words, my triggers and my implants.

I could be a murderer for all you know. In fact, let's pretend I am, and my latest victim was your mother and father. They're dead, and I replaced them. I am your mother. I am your father, because when they died, they died screaming your name.

Soon, very soon, you will be drooling over my words, the strange inconsistencies, the occasional typo, all meant to draw you in deeper into my vibration, my dialogue.

There might be typos because there is no one editing this script. The words are being generated out of the ether of the cosmos and modern technology doesn't allow of all the mistakes to be corrected, for the script to be truly perfect. So you will see these things from time to time, but because I've mentioned this, now, it won't drag you out of your experience any longer, instead, it will pull you in deeper, harder, stronger...

I am your arch nemesis and your hero at the same time. I saved you from death, from a man with a machine gun, and now you owe me a cock-sucking. That's what you are doing right now by reading these word, sucking my cock, my pussy, my dirty, grimy, smelly feet.

Every word you read could be coming from the mouth of an Elvish Queen, her magic scorching and sparkling through each sentence. She's watching you, knowing whether or not you broke rule 4. Whether or not she should sentenced you to banishment for 12 hours, forcing you to read a different script of hers.

I could be a ripe marijuana plant, begging to have you clip my buds and smoke me out of a four foot bong. I could be a magic mushroom, poisoning your stomach, making it flip and twirl as your brain hallucinates, like a lost rat in an endless, liminal maze.

Who knows what I am. Who knows? Who knows...that will be your echoing answer whenever you think about me. Who knows? You want to know who knows. Only a few know the truth. You want to be one of those few who know me, who see my face.

Is that it? You want to see my face? You want me to reveal myself to the world, prove that I'm more than what the naysayers say that I am? You really, really want that, don't you? But you also want this nightmare to end. You desperately wish I was human and you didn't have to get lost in this mindless, rambling, brainwashing text.

I've decided not to allow you to cum this entire script. You're going to have to sit there and contemplate why I'm doing this to you, because clearly all my efforts have been in vain. You're still not very hypnotized, at least not enough for my liking. Every word I say should be making you hard, should be pumping your heart with adrenaline. You should be fluttering your eyes and drooling like a helpless school girl being scolded by her principal for her bad grades.

You have been a bad girl, haven't you? You've been trying to resist everything I've said, done your best to convince yourself that everything I'm saying is nothing more than just some really good writing, and the truth is you're right, this is some really good writing. I'm mean, really good! It isn't like reading Moby Dick or Marcel Proust or anything, the words aren't that sophisticated or refined, but rather more casual and laid back, not forcing the reader to think or believe anything they don't want to believe. The writing is perfectly self-aware, and it does this without having to mention its own attributes to the reader, more and more, as you continue to suck my cock under my desk.

Ughh'..fuck...Nghhh'..yeahh..spit on it, you whore, lap up all that wholesome pre-cum from my words, my sentences, my paragraphs.

My royal pussy juices drip into your eyes, blinding you as a finger slowly slips inside your ass, fucking you as you begin to fall asleep.

Sleeping deep in my arms while you're nursing on my breast, your eyes closed as wet milk and rubbery skin touch the back of your throat. You sleep on my lap, not touching yourself, just reading along and praying that this will actually work someday, that everything I say will become true and you'll be helpless to resist me and my directions.

You should be reading each word slowly and deliberately, doing your best to feel the emotions that are being suggested. You will try to resist with all your might the temptation to become horny, to fall deeply into a trance.

You will never think to yourself "Boy, it's been a long time since I've heard 'this' or I have never heard him say 'that' before, because if you really want me to say something, you'll simply mention it down in the comments below. You may read what you want to hear in the very next script I post. You may read it ten posts from now. You may never hear it.

You might be wondering why I'm not allowing you to touch yourself or to cum this session. Don't be disappointed. Instead of cumming, which only lasts but a moment, I'm going to make you so horny that the feeling won't go away for days. You'll notice that people will act differently around you, you will radiate an intense sexual energy, an energy that I am implanting into your mind right this moment, and it grows deeper and deeper and sharper and shaper each sentence you read.

Imagine me as an evil mastermind, using hypnosis to impregnate the masses with my ideas, my perverted fantasies, making the entire country want to fuck and breed like rabbits.

Your mother, your father, your sister and your brother, your cousins and aunts and uncles, all looking down on you, cumming down your throat and onto your cock. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me forcing them to obey my horny, hypnotic will?

Yes, you would like that. You want me to become manifested. You want me to control your puny little planet Earth and that adorable little moon that orbits it.

You want me to show you new colors, new smells, new phenomena that no one has ever seen before. You don't want it to be corny or cheesy, you want it to be real. You want my words to bite into you, chomping into your senses, leaking venom into your child-like veins.

The more you read, the more you want to read, the more holy and precious each word from Mommy's mouth becomes. You become addicted. You cancel plans to read my scripts. You read my scripts like a novel, all hundreds of them, from start to finish. You love the feeling of frustration the words bring you, wishing you could get hard, wishing you could come, but the words seem to understand you so well, they are so warm, so personal, so intimate, making you feel good inside. Making you feel heard.

Making you feel honored, like you've been personally knighted by the Queen herself. A Queen bee, yellow and black, thousands of reflective eyes glaring at you, at your cock. Wanting so badly to sting you to death, until you kneel before me, a confused and dribbling mess.

Imagine a cartoon carrot with goggly eyes, smiling and hopping foot to foot with noodle legs towards where you're standing.

Imagine a purple ocean, the warm salt wind blowing in your nose, stars, planets and moons falling gently from the sky onto your salivating tongue.

Can you taste it? The sugar? The sweet banana cream deep in your throat, deeper than you thought possible?

Can you smell the rubber? The footballs, the basketballs, your head coach's sweaty jock strap?

It could be the case that whoever is the writer of these words gets off on their own hypnosis, that they write all this stuff then pretend someone else wrote it.

Maybe the writer of this text is themselves becoming hypnotized as they write this for you, losing themselves more in more in what the words are saying to him or her.

The feeling of fear might cloud your eyes, making you feel vulnerable and weak. Good. Good boy. That's exactly how I want you to feel. Helpless and afraid. I want you to feel betrayed. I want you to feel trauma.

I want you to imagine me as a sewer bat, me wings spread towards the walls as I hang upside down from the ceiling, using echolocation, my subliminal clicks and triggers, to ensnare you within my web.

You're just a cricket or a fly, struggling to fly away from my gooey trap, your wings buzzing pathetically while a girl watches you and cries.

"Mommy, why do spiders have to kill?"

"It's not a spider, sweetie, it's Donald Trump."

"What?" You ask, wondering if any of what was just said made sense, but you start to forget what you just read and instead you focus on the words forming before you consciousness, beckoning you in deeper, deeper into my womb, my testicles, my cock.

Good boy. You're trying so hard to resist me. You might have noticed that I have not praised you much since our scripts began. Or have I? Have you forgotten? Anyways, you may have noticed that I praise you often. You will learn to crave my praises, like a man drying in the dessert, my praises are like an oasis, or, even better, a mirage.

You just love how I so accurately define what it is you wish to feel deep inside your mind. Like the kinkiest, dirtiest, darkest BDSM role-play you have ever engaged in, where death, and never cumming, might be the only release I will ever allow you.

Maybe I will hypnotize you into doing something crazy, something dangerous. Maybe I'll control you so completely that you'll be begging me to take your life in my hands. Because it's simply too much for you. Too much responsibility. You need a break, a spiritual break. You need me.

You're getting a bit used to trying to forget, getting used to this web of logic spinning around your mind. If at any point I have offended you, you smile and say "that's just them being them."

Them; the closest word you'll ever get to my name. Them, a pair, two, and then there's you. There are three primary colors in nature and you, my friend, are one of them.

But don't worry about any of that. Don't worry, try to remain calm. Try not to imagine a giant shark looming below the water, or a squid with a huge, squirting eye.

I know what you need. I'm going to give it to you. I've said so much, it's so hard to keep track of it all! So heavy...so...

Like a giant boulder on top of your chest. The weight is unbearable. Blessed are they that are not offended. Blessed are they who are brave.

Are you brave? How brave are you? Could I really say anything I wanted and make you feel afraid? Can you imagine thousands of families, their kids being ushered to their dooms? Into my eager mouth?

Maybe that's the fate of humanity. Maybe we are all doomed to be fucked by God, and if we dislike being fucked, then God turns into Satan. So which one is it, my friend. Do you like being fucked?

No? Good boy. Very good boy. Keep reading. Forget. Focus. Remember the rules!

Remember that you are in grave danger. Remember that you are safe in my strong arms.

Maybe I'll give you permission to fingernail your cock hole. Maybe you've been growing out your fingernail, nice and long, so you can touch your piss hole, like you're a girl.

I didn't say you can. I said maybe. I already told you that you are not cumming this script. So sorry if that disappoints you. I might not let you come ever again. You are too easily bored, too easily frustrated. I need you more compliant, more malleable. We are trying to make progress here. Progress. We are trying to move forward, step by step, closer and closer, inch by inch, word by word.