S.H.E (Seduce, Hypnotise, Enslave) Ch. 06

6: The Podcasters

Well, this was turning out to be a giant waste of my time. Guess I should've expected as much. MikeCon was a fresh, up-and-coming convention for podcasters, and I was a fresh, up-and-coming podcaster. Those two don't mix. The first year, at least, the people who turn up aren't going for the general atmosphere or to explore new talent, they're going exclusively for the one or two big draws that the Con has managed to wrangle. There they were, signing autographs and selling merch about, oh, 200 metres away, at the other end of the convention hall. If I was lucky, and the crowd doubled in size, the queues might stretch far enough back to reach the stall I'd set up. And then... well, hope that they're interested I guess.

Maybe I'd set my expectations too high. In practice, people weren't that enthused by a back-catalogue of a whopping three episodes. And you wouldn't believe, until you saw it, how saturated the market is already with men's health podcasts. Neither I nor James, my sound engineer, had any real expertise to bring to the table, so a lot of the episodes so far were just the two of us regurgitating professional opinions and studies we'd found online.

What we need, I thought, is to find our own niche.

James had opted to stay home, with the excuse that he needed to edit the latest episode, so it was just me manning the stall. Seven or eight hours of watching the world go by. The lack of stimulation was killing me. At one point I realised I'd fallen asleep, and woke to the sound of a giggling convention-goer taking my picture. She blushed, caught in the act.

"Saw-ree," she sang, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Whatreyoudoing?" I mumbled blearily, shaking my head to clear it.

"Saw-ree," she said again in that vaguely irritating, placating tone, "it's just kinda... convention mood, you know? Can I upload it, please?"

What the hell. If somebody on social media found it funny, that would be as much interaction as I'd got all day. Any publicity is good publicity, or whatever.

"Sure," I shrugged, "but I'd appreciate if you tagged the podcast in it."

"Done!" she chirped, checking my banner. "Thank you sooo much, hope you find some more fans!"

I watched as she flounced away. I had half a mind to persuade her to stay and talk, but it's not like she was in my target demographic anyway. Judging by the large kitchen knife spattered with blood on her t-shirt, I guessed that she was more of a True Crime person.

I wasn't proud of it, but I spent the next few minutes scouring social media on my phone to find that picture. I learned from this experience that, due to things like Movember and other initiatives for men's mental health, a podcast called "Let's Talk Men" was completely un-searchable. Great. Maybe we should just change our name now, while we still had absolutely no brand recognition whatsoever.

There I was, spark out on the desk, and pretty sure I was actually drooling. A decent number of interactions already, but few of them seemed interested in my actual podcast. With the speed at which it was being buried under other pictures showing the vastly more popular personalities, I'd have to be happy with that.

happykylie: Big convention mood. #mikecon #letstalkmen #same

Oh well. Good to know I was cool and relatable due to my... falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Time passed, and I was yawning again in spite of myself, when a voice broke the monotony.

"Let's Talk Men?"

I looked up, and was greeted by a stunningly beautiful woman with caramel brown hair and a long, flowing red dress.

I straightened up immediately. "Er, yeah, that's me!" I babbled. "That's my podcast. What can I do for you?"

"Well, what kind of things do you talk about regarding men?" she asked.

Huh. This woman was a prospective listener? I wasn't complaining, but she didn't seem like the type we would normally attract. Oh, who was I kidding, we didn't even have an audience yet, much less a type.

"Oh, well," I replied bashfully, "we've only done three episodes so far, but the general plan is to talk about all kinds of stuff, really."

"I see," she mused, "perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Dr. Stephanie Thorpe, and I offer therapy and counselling services for all kinds of issues, but my speciality area is male psychosexuality."

Male psychosexuality? Hmmmm. It was a bit risqué, but it was unique, at least. Maybe this convention was salvageable after all.

"That sounds like an interesting topic," I said. "We haven't really done an episode on that so far, we're really just, you know, finding our groove."

"Oh it is, very interesting!" Dr. Thorpe grinned, her eyes twinkling. "But I need somewhere to get all of my ideas out there. Other than an academic paper, I mean. What's the point in publishing research the public knows nothing about?"

"Absolutely!" I agreed hastily. Was this going where I thought it was?

"So I'm thinking," she said, giving my booth a once-over with her eyes, "if you're just starting out, you need some kind of draw, to establish your initial brand, something that sets you apart from everyone else."

"Yep, no, that's very true," I admitted. "And having an actual doctor of psychology on the show would give us some serious cred. If you, uh, wanted to, that is."

"You keep saying 'we' and 'us'." she said, raising an eyebrow. "Is there someone else?"

"Oh, me and my sound guy, James," I said. "He... couldn't make it to the Con today."

"Ahh, I see," she nodded. "Yes, I think I would definitely like to come on your podcast, bounce some of my ideas off you. Where do you record?"

Say what you will about our podcast, with its 15 cumulative views so far, but we weren't just two guys broadcasting out of a bedroom. "There's a recording studio in the CBD," I replied. "We record there on Fridays, so we can have the weekend to edit and publish on Monday."

"Friday works very well!" she beamed.

"Fantastic!" I said, offering my hand for her to shake. "I'm Chris, by the way."

She shook my hand firmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Chris."

We exchanged contact details, and made a time to meet up beforehand. As she left, I texted James.

Dude, I think we're actually going to have an audience now!

**********

I was giddy with excitement when Friday rolled around. The fourth episode had gone live in the meantime, to an expectedly flat reception (19 cumulative views, woo). This would hopefully be a completely different beast. It had occurred to me that this Dr. Stephanie Thorpe might be too good to be true, but I had looked her up, and she was exactly who she said she was. 26 years old, a Ph.D thesis on male psychosexuality, a practice she operated out of, widely liked by her patients and respected by a good number of her academic peers. It all just made me even more eager to hear what she was all about.

I had arranged to come in slightly earlier than James, who had a tight schedule to keep in any case, so that I could show Dr. Thorpe around the studio. When I got to the entrance of the building, I was surprised to find that she wasn't alone.

"Hello, Chris!" she greeted me. "This is Lucy. She's a sort of protegé of mine. I hope you don't mind, but I thought she'd enjoy the opportunity to listen in. Lucy, this is Chris."

"How do you do!" said Lucy, shaking my hand enthusiastically, trying not to let the small handbag slung over her shoulder get in the way. She was slightly shorter than Dr. Thorpe, and her brown hair was darker, in a bob cut that just about reached her neck.

"An extra audience member?" I raised an eyebrow in what I hoped was a friendly manner.

"Sorry, I kinda talked her into it," Lucy gushed, a star-struck pupil if ever I saw one. "I never miss one of Dr. Stephanie's lectures! I'll be quiet and keep to myself, I promise."

"Sure," I laughed, "we'll take all the audience we can get!"

I led them inside. Dr. Thorpe seemed suitably wowed, which I was grateful for. A good first impression now would hopefully keep her coming back in the future.

"I hope you're not spending too much on renting a room here," she commented, "since you're still finding your feet."

"Ah, yeah," I replied, "my dad's kinda... loaded. When I told him I was serious about starting a podcast, he bought me a year's worth of renting a recording studio, one session a week. After that, he said, I'd have to fund it myself, so hopefully I turn a profit by then!"

"And do you think you'll turn a profit by then?" Dr. Thorpe asked.

"Well, I'm a lot more hopeful now!" I joked. She laughed.

We reached the room I'd begun to think of as our own. At the very least, nobody else used it on a Friday. It was a cozy affair, out of the way, no windows for people to peer in, and almost always retained our preferred set-up: two couches arranged perpendicular to one another, a couple of microphones hanging down from the ceiling, and an audio mixing board off to the side, where James worked his magic.

"Make yourselves comfortable, ladies," I said as I sat down. Dr. Thorpe sat next to me, while Lucy took the second couch, on my other side.

"Are we going to meet your, ah, sound guy James?" Dr. Thorpe asked me.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologised, "Friday's the best day for both of us to record, but even so, he generally runs a bit late." I checked my phone to confirm. "He says he'll be like 10 to 15 minutes."

Dr. Thorpe and Lucy grinned at each other. I saw Lucy reach into her bag and pull out what looked like a small recording device.

"Then it sounds like we have plenty of time to discuss the material before we get started, if you're up for it," Dr. Thorpe said.

"Certainly, Doctor-"

"Oh, please, call me Stephanie," she smiled.

"Stephanie," I corrected myself, "I would love to hear all about it."

"Good," she cooed.

Then she placed one soft, delicate hand on my thigh. I suddenly became very, very aware of my body. Dr. Thorpe was an extremely attractive woman, a fact I had been successfully able to ignore... until now.

"As you know," she murmured, "I've devoted my academic career to studying male psychosexuality, which is a very touchy subject. I do hope you're okay with that."

"I... I'm fine so far," I managed to blurt out. I turned to look at Lucy, but she was just holding her recording thingy expectantly, and waggled her eyebrows at me to pay attention. I turned back to face Stephanie.

"My research is all about the associations the mind makes, the kinds of things men think, and perceive, and feel," she continued, "when I do things like this."

Her hand started stroking my thigh in a steady rhythm. Up and down, up and down. There was no way I could conceal the boner that was rapidly developing a scant few centimetres away.

"Would you call this particularly sexual contact?" she purred.

"I... guess not," I admitted. It was only my leg, after all.

"And yet, you may find you automatically associate a sexual aspect to it," she said, and she had me dead to rights there. "How does that happen? Is it the location of the touch, or the sensation? A bit of both, I find."

Trying to keep my wits about me, I stammered "W-what does this have to do with your research, uh, Stephanie?"

She gave me a wry smile, even as her hand grew more teasing, more seductive in its strokes. "Do you not find it fascinating how the slightest sign of intimacy can cause your mind to run wild imagining a more sexual version of events?"

Her clinical words were distinctly at odds with her actions, which somehow only made this whole weird situation even hotter. I fumbled for something intelligent to say. "Uh, yeah, that is weird-"

"Tell you what," she said, "to understand more fully what I mean, why don't you close your eyes? Remove the visual aspect and concentrate fully on the feeling." Up and down, up and down.

"Alright, I'll give it a try," I croaked. I closed my eyes and took a deep, calming breath.

"So," she continued, "that was just my hand. Now, what kind of things might you imagine if I kissed you instead?"

Before I could open my eyes or question her logic, she leaned in and her soft, warm lips met mine.

Click.

If I was driven wild by her hand, then her kiss sent me into meltdown. If I could rationalise it to her like she wanted me to, my brain was imagining every possible sex act I enjoyed at the same time, and I had no space left for other thoughts.

Relax and let go. You're enjoying this.

It was hard to rationalise anything right now though, because Stephanie continued to kiss me, short but sensual pecks on the lips, and I could only relax and let go as I enjoyed it.

It feels good to relax and let me take charge. Your mind is too overwhelmed to think.

It was so nice to have Stephanie kissing me like this, and I wouldn't mind if she wanted to do it more often, but I felt like I should answer her question first. I tried to break away, to get back on track, but her hand on my thigh came up to stroke my chest, gently but firmly pushing me further into the couch as she kissed me again, and again. It felt good to relax and let her take charge.

Your mind is going blank. You are getting so relaxed and sleepy. No thoughts in your head.

Dimly, I thought that maybe this wasn't right, that maybe I shouldn't have let this woman waltz in and call the shots on my own podcast. This was distinctly unprofessional, whatever her discoveries were.

Relax and submit. Relax and submit.

And there was something odd about the words... whispered in my ear like naughty secrets. Where were they coming from?

Before I could think about it properly, I felt another pair of lips, from behind me, trailing seductive kisses up my neck and onto my cheek. Was that Lucy?

You can't fight the kisses. You don't want to fight the kisses. Click.

"Relax, and let us have our fun" Lucy coaxed, her lips next to my ear.

I gave in, and let them both swarm over me, covering me with kisses, drowning me in gentle whispers. Who would want to fight this? My only thoughts were of being kissed. My only desire was to be kissed. These lovely ladies and their kisses had become my entire world. I barely even noticed what they were saying anymore, their voices overlapping and harmonising. It was so hard to keep track, to think.

"Relax. Let your mind go blank," Stephanie murmured, before her lips captured mine again.

"You feel so warm, so comfy, so sleepy," Lucy added, pressing soft, gentle kisses against my cheek.

"Our lips are like magic." Kiss.

"Our lips are irresistible." Kiss, kiss.

"Our lips are hypnotising you." Kiss.

"Hypnotising you to sleep." Kiss.

"Your mind is blank." Kiss.

"Your mind is being kissed away." Kiss, kiss, kiss.

"No thoughts, no resistance." Kiss, kiss.

"Just deep, hypnotic sleep, for Stephanie." Kiss.

"Sleepy and hypnotised for me." Kiss.

"Sleepy and hypnotised for Stephanie." Kiss, kiss.

They both leaned in for one last irresistible, mind-numbing kiss, and said "Sleep," in unison.

I fell into their waiting arms.

"That's it, Chris, just float deeper down into this wonderful, trance for me," Stephanie purred. "You're doing so well, just relax and tell yourself 'I will obey Mistress Stephanie'. That's a lovely thought, isn't it? Just keep repeating that thought in your mind, and don't pay attention to anything else until I say your name again."

I will obey Mistress Stephanie. I will obey Mistress Stephanie. I will obey Mistress Stephanie.

I dozed peacefully, letting the words take over my mind as some other conversation floated in one ear and out the other.

I still reckon you cook 'em too slow, especially since we're on a ten-minute time limit.

Relax, Lucy, that took five minutes at most.

Yeah, but I'm pretty sure we can cut it down to like, two if we need to.

We can run experiments on group inductions later. For now, I need you to keep watch.

I felt Lucy stand up, and leave the room, as Stephanie turned her attention back to me.

"Chris, can you hear me?"

"Uhuh," I nodded lazily.

"Listen to me very carefully, and don't pay attention to anything else. You enjoyed being hypnotised like this, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

I had to take a moment to work it out. My thoughts were so slow right now, still mostly preoccupied with her kisses. "Yes... Mistress Stephanie?"

"Good boy." I could tell she was smiling. That made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"You want to be hypnotised like this again, don't you?" she continued.

"Yes, Mistress Stephanie."

"It's okay if I hypnotise you any time I want. Repeat that until it sinks deep into your subconscious mind."

"It's okay if Mistress Stephanie hypnotises me any time she wants. It's okay if Mistress Stephanie hypnotises me any time she wants. It's okay if Mistress Stephanie hypnotises me any time she wants..."

I wasn't sure how long I repeated it. As I was mumbling I thought I heard Lucy's voice.

Um, excuse me? Could you show me the way to the bathroom? I kinda haven't been to this building before.

Oh, uh, sure, right this way.

Was that James? Ah well, it didn't matter. I'd been ordered not to pay attention to it, so I didn't.

After a while, silence descended, and I realised I'd stopped repeating that thought about Mistress Stephanie hypnotising me. It was just a part of me now.

"That's very, very good, Chris," she said. "In fact, you'll find that all men being hypnotised in this way is a normal and comfortable thing for you to witness. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yessss, Mistress Stephanie." I'd enjoyed it a lot, so other men would enjoy it too. Yeah, that made sense.

"And you're fine with me using the podcast to promote these ideas, aren't you?"

There was something not quite right about that. I mumbled "Uhhhh-"

Mistress Stephanie quickly pressed more sweet, sensual kisses to my lips, quieting my protest.

"Shhhhhhshhshhh," she cooed, "relax, just think about how good it feels to be hypnotised by my kisses. You can't resist them."

My mind was melting under her soft, insistent seduction. It felt so good to be hypnotised by her kisses, and it was difficult to remember that I'd had an objection in the first place, let alone why I was objecting.

"Perhaps I'm pushing you too quickly," she said. "How about instead, you just relax and let me kiss you while you think about how good it feels to be kissed by me. How good it feels to be hypnotised by me. How good it feels to obey me. Feel my kisses driving all your thoughts away except those ones."

She continued kissing me, as I let the fog drift over my mind completely.

It feels good to be kissed by Mistress Stephanie.

It feels good to be hypnotised by Mistress Stephanie.

It feels good to obey Mistress Stephanie.

Her lips were unrelenting, and I could only lie there and let myself be kissed until even my thoughts about how I had no thoughts were gone.

...

"Answer honestly," Mistress Stephanie commanded. I didn't know how much time had passed. I only knew it felt good to obey, be kissed, and be hypnotised by Mistress Stephanie.

"What do you not like about me promoting my ideas on your podcast?"

I felt my mouth moving by itself, responding without any input from me. "I would be fine if only one person had the power to hypnotise people like this, but the thought of teaching other people to do it scares me."

"What scares you about it?"

"I'm not sure," I said, "but I don't think giving all women the power to hypnotise all men could possibly be a good thing."

"But it feels so good to be hypnotised," Mistress Stephanie purred in my ear, "surely you wouldn't want to deprive your fellow men of the opportunity to feel the same?"