Lifestyle Journalism Ch. 02

She wasn't expecting Amara to admit to anything, just hoping that she might volunteer some information, or give something away in how she reacted. The last thing Emma had expected was for Amara to answer:

"Yes. I'm doing it to you, right now."

Emma twitched, alarmed. "E... excuse me?"

"You heard me." Amara sounded deadly serious.

"That's... that's funny." Emma giggled nervously.

"I'm not joking," Amara insisted. "I'm brainwashing you against your will, right now."

A shiver of danger raced down Emma's spine. The sensation of falling that she was still feeling in the pit of her stomach turned much worse, and her head was throbbing with sudden vertigo.

"But..." Emma said, frowning. "You asked. I... I let you."

"Yes," Amara replied calmly. "That's what you think. Because I made sure you'd think that way."

"B... but..."

Emma felt like the floor was once again collapsing beneath her feet. She wanted to argue, but her thoughts kept turning back to one, deeply troubling question:

If Amara was telling the truth, how would she even know?

And the worst part was, she couldn't run. She couldn't fight. She couldn't assert control.

She was hypnotized.

She was so deeply focused that all she could do was stare at Amara, dumbfounded, as Amara continued to reshape her reality.

"Fortunately," Amara continued, "you don't need to worry about it. Because you don't really care."

Emma frowned. How could Amara say that? Of course she cared! This was exactly the kind of thing her work was devoted to.

Amara noticed the way Emma was starting to twitch and shiver. "Calm down," the personal trainer said soothingly. "Remember, Emma. This is just an interview."

Somehow, that made perfect sense to Emma, and she was instantly calm. The obvious, glaring contradiction in her circumstances and her reactions didn't even register with her.

"Right." She replied dumbly. "Just an interview."

Of course. She'd carried out hundreds of interviews. What was there to be so worked up about?

"Just an interview," Amara repeated. "You know how interviews work, right? You ask the questions. I give you the answers."

"Right," Emma said again. It was obvious, when Amara explained it to her like that.

"I just gave you an answer," Amara explained slowly. "Would you like to ask me a question about it?"

"Uh..." It took Emma a long moment to think of something. Even the events of a minute or two ago were becoming foggy. "Yeah. Yes. Um... why... why don't I care?"

It felt like a very strange question. But it was the only one that seemed to fit, given the answer Amara had supplied her with.

"Well, let's see," Amara replied, smirking. "You told me that you came here for your investigation, but that was a week ago, and you keep coming back. You don't seem to do a whole lot of journalism with me. You just spend most of your time here working out. Isn't that right?"

Emma mentally reviewed their last few sessions. It was. "Yeah."

"That's where all your time and effort is going." Amara nodded. "Working out. So, isn't that what you're really here for?"

Emma's brow twitched, but Amara's logic was undeniable. Or at least, she couldn't make herself think quickly enough to find fault with it. "Yeah..."

"You're really here to work out," Amara affirmed, cementing that thought into Emma's mind. "Not for your investigation."

"Y-yeah..." Emma agreed, with only slight reluctance.

"So," Amara concluded. "You care about working out. Not about your investigation. Not about your journalism."

"I..." That was a harder pill to swallow. Emma's head started to turn from side to side in instinctive denial. "I... don't..."

"Relax, Emma," Amara chided. "Remember. It's just an interview. Relax, and fall."

Emma fell. Emma was always falling, and once again, she was still.

"If you cared so much," Amara told her, "wouldn't you spend all your time interviewing me, instead of working out?"

"Yeah..." Emma agreed dreamily. It was so easy to accept what Amara told her. Much easier than thinking for herself. Hypnosis made her too dumb to think, and she was so deeply hypnotized.

"So," Amara pressed. "You don't care."

"I... don't... care."

Hairs raised on the back of Emma's neck as she finally agreed, warning her of the danger. But moments later, she felt amazingly free. It was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She didn't care.

"You don't care about your investigation," Amara repeated. "Not compared to working out, anyway."

Emma nodded. It was getting easier to accept with each passing moment.

"And that's why you don't need to worry about being hypnotized," Amara concluded. "About being brainwashed. It doesn't matter to your investigation. You care about working out. And hypnosis is very, very good for helping you to work out."

"Right," Emma agreed. It all seemed so much simpler now, and she was grateful to Amara for explaining it to her. She was learning so much from this interview.

"Speaking of which," Amara said, grinning. "I think it's about time we get to the real reason you're here."

She reached up and clapped her hands together in front of Emma's face. To the hypnotized journalist, the sharp, loud sound was like a thunderbolt, jolting her back to awareness. Immediately, the details of the conversation she and Amara had been having started to recede from memory - but that bubbly new lightness remained.

Emma didn't care. She was just here to work out! It was such a relief.

"So how was hypnosis?" Amara asked.

"Great!" Emma replied brightly. She didn't remember much of their interview, but that wasn't very important.

Hypnosis was good for working out. And hypnosis made her dumber. And getting dumber felt good.

"Glad to hear it," Amara said. "Ready to get down to business?"

Emma nodded. This was what she was here for. Her pretty, pink outfit was filling her with energy, and the knowledge of how healthy she was being put an extra spring in her step. She loved working out.

Especially because each exercise left her just a little bit dumber.

"Well, before we get started, I have an idea," Amara said. "You've got your phone, right?"

"Sure." Emma slipped her phone out of one of her pockets, before giggling absently. "I... don't know why."

She had a strange feeling that she'd brought her phone here to take notes on her interview with Amara, but that seemed silly. The interview wasn't important. She was here to work out.

"Fortunately, I do," Amara laughed. "Do you have an Instagram account?"

Emma nodded. She'd started it for her work, although it had more or less fallen into disuse. Which made sense, since she didn't really care about her work very much.

"Time to put it to good use!" Amara mimed holding up a phone to take a high-angle selfie. "You love attention, right? Show your fans a nice peace sign!"

***

A couple of weeks later, Emma was in Mel's apartment, working out. That was nothing unusual. Emma had ended up practically moving in with her best friend. It seemed to make sense - Mel had the space, enjoyed her company, and Emma was already obligated to be there every evening for dinner. Why bother heading back to her own place each night?

The exercise was normal too, now. Emma's thrice-weekly sessions with Amara were no longer enough. Not even close. Working out had become an obsession for Emma, and accordingly, she had taken up jogging, bought an exercise mat and a set of home dumbbells, and had a whole series of exercise routines she kept to diligently, morning and night.

Working out was her calling. Emma understood that now. It felt good, on so many levels. Better than her old work ever had. These days, she barely even thought about journalism.

"Emma!" Mel called out, from the kitchen. "Food's ready, babe!"

Emma quickly finished up her set and headed over to the dining table, where Mel was serving up a meal of grilled chicken breasts, lentils, and some green vegetables. Fortunately for her, Mel seemed more than happy to cater to her newfound love of health foods.

As Emma sat down, she whipped out her phone and took a couple of quick pics of her meal. They'd go down great on her Instagram. Emma's socials had really been blowing up, ever since she started posting about her fitness journey. Making connections with other, similarly-minded girls was so much more fun than all the boring, serious stuff she'd been using social media for before.

"Um... hey, Emma?" Mel called out. "Earth to Emma? Your food's gonna get cold."

"Oops!" Emma giggled, putting down her phone.

She'd been distracted, checking on the comments and views on the pre-workout selfie she'd posted earlier. It was funny; Emma had never really used Instagram much before, but now, she constantly caught herself scrolling for hours and hours, hopelessly lost in the thrill of all that attention.

Emma loved attention.

"Emma, are you doing OK?" Mel asked. Emma realized her friend was staring at her with concern in her eyes.

"Sure!" she replied brightly. "Don't I look like I'm doing good?"

Mel nodded. Emma knew there was no disputing that. She was in the best shape of her life. Thanks to all that exercise, her body had become sleek and toned, shedding all the puppy fat she'd been carrying around before. She was starting to look like a model.

"I just..." Mel pressed hesitantly. "You seem a little... distracted lately."

Emma giggled again. "I guess."

It was hard to deny, but Emma wasn't troubled by it. She felt great.

Mel wasn't to be dissuaded by Emma's upbeat mood. "Hey so, how's your investigation going?"

"Uh..." Emma blinked. "My... investigation?"

"You know, that fitness piece," Mel prompted. "Abuses of hypnosis. Stuff like that."

"Oh!" Emma giggled. She hadn't so much as thought about it in days. "I guess it's... like... what do you call it? On the back burner!"

"I see." Mel tilted her head, staring at Emma intently. "I'm surprised. You seemed so passionate about it!"

"I guess." In truth, Emma barely even remembered. "But, like, priorities change. I figured you'd be totally pleased! You were telling me to take a break."

"True," Mel conceded. "I'm glad you're taking some time off, babe."

"Uh-huh!" Emma agreed. "Anyway, I think I was kinda wrong about some stuff."

"Yeah?"

"I was soooo worried about hypnosis." Emma giggled. "But now I, like, know better! Hypnosis is great."

Hypnosis made her dumber, and getting dumber felt good.

"Right..." Mel said pensively. There was an odd look on her face. "I... you'll still be careful, right? People still know you as a serious journalist. I really wouldn't want someone, um, taking advantage. Say, when you're out jogging, or on your way to Amara's."

Emma just giggled yet again. "You worry so much!"

"I guess I do, babe, when it's about you." Mel's face relaxed into a smile. "Anyway, I'm glad to have you around more often. It's nice. And I sure don't mind the view."

Mel winked, and Emma dissolved into yet more giggling. She knew what Mel was alluding to. Her dress sense had certainly taken a turn. She was currently wearing a pink sports bra, and a pair of pink and white dolphin shorts - and that was it. Nothing else.

All the better to get the kind of attention Emma craved. It was the same reason she'd started getting serious about makeup. Whatever made her Instagram selfies blow up harder.

And of course, attention from Mel was nice too. Very nice.

"O-K!" Emma chanted as she finished her meal, before bouncing up out of her seat. "I'm gonna get ready to take another jog around the block. I've still got, like, a little more energy to burn off."

"Sure thing, babe," Mel replied. "Just... remember what I said, alright? Be careful."

Emma giggled. "You got it, bestie!"

She could tell Mel was worried, but she wasn't really sure why. As far as she was concerned, it was all very simple.

Exercise felt good. Exercise got her attention. And exercise made her dumber.

Getting dumber felt good.

It was as simple as that.

What was there to worry about?

***

"Four!" Emma chanted, counting her sit-ups as sweat dripped from her brow to stain the pink exercise mat underneath her. "Five! Six! S... s... um..."

"Seven," Amara reminded her, smirking.

"Right." Emma giggled. She was turning into such an airhead. "Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!"

"Alright!" Amara reached down to help haul Emma to her feet. "Great session today. Good job."

"Yay!" Emma bounced in celebration, before reaching for her water bottle and taking a nice, big mouthful. As she did, she looked at herself in one of the mirrors lining the walls of Amara's home gym - and liked what she saw.

After weeks of healthy living, she'd decided it was time for a small makeover. Emma had gone blonde, and she loved it. She'd been buying lots of new clothes, too. All pink, of course. Nice, bright colors like pink and blonde were perfect for her new mindset. And accessories like her pink water bottle and pink hairband really helped with her Instagram engagement.

Emma was rapidly becoming a social media diva. She just couldn't help it. She loved the attention.

For that matter, she could see Amara checking her out in the mirror too. That made Emma giggle and preen. She loved all kinds of attention, and she knew lots of girls who loved her new, athletic body.

It was kind of a shame that Amara seemed reluctant to put the moves on her. The tall, buff personal trainer was incredibly hot, and Emma's sex drive had been through the roof lately.

"OK!" Amara announced. "Let's do a quick breathing exercise to cool down."

"Sure!" Emma replied brightly. She was up for anything, and she knew what breathing exercises meant.

Hypnosis.

"Emma," Amara said slowly. "Fall."

Emma's eyes fluttered as she let the bliss of trance take her. It was such a thrill, knowing that one little word from Amara was all it took nowadays.

Emma loved hypnosis. Hypnosis made her dumber.

"I want you to take some deep breaths for me, Emma," Amara began. "And as you do, feel your heartbeat gradually returning to its steady, normal rhythm."

Emma nodded sleepily. She was already so deep. All of this was completely familiar; they did it at the end of every workout session now.

"Now," Amara continued, after a few moments, "I want you to take an extra-deep breath for me. And as you do, I want you to think about all the things that have been distracting you from your work-out goals over the past few days. Whatever those might be - stray thoughts, random pieces of information, unhelpful memories - I want you to feel them all gathering up in your chest as you inhale."

Emma nodded again. This, too, was a familiar exercise. At the end of all their workouts, Amara helped her to forget things. This time, a whole bunch of old memories came to mind; for some reason, Emma kept catching herself reminiscing about high-school English class. She'd read so many books back then! Books with big, long words she didn't understand anymore. She gathered up a bunch of thoughts about politics, too. It was annoying how they buzzed around in her mind whenever she caught the news.

"And now, breathe out," Amara instructed. "And as you do, imagine all of those thoughts that you've been gathering up being pushed out of your body. Imagine them blowing out of your lips, and feel them slip out of your mind at the same time."

Emma breathed out, and all those thoughts and memories left her, turning into nothing more than thin air.

She sighed happily and giggled a few times. She loved getting dumber like that. It made it so much easier to focus on working out! Plus, the way Amara used hypnosis for it was so hot. It was like one of her naughty little fantasies come to life.

Emma felt like, maybe, a long time ago, something about that might have bothered her. But at this point, she really couldn't remember.

And she liked it that way.

Amara clapped her hands to wake Emma out of trance. "Perfect," the personal trainer said. "I think we're done for the day. Unless you want to ask me any more questions, that is."

Emma tilted her head to one side, curious. "Um... questions?"

"You know," Amara prompted, "for your investigation."

Dumbfounded, Emma simply blinked. "What investigation?"

A grin slowly crept across Amara's face. "Actually, don't worry about it."

"OK!" Emma accepted that at once. She loved not worrying about things.

As Amara watched the former journalist gather up her stuff, she reached for her phone. It was time. Emma was absolutely perfect. Amara sent one, simple, fateful message to her employer.

She's ready.