Good Pretty Thing

by Comfort Eagle

Tags: #hypnotic_amnesia #hypnotic_induction #microfiction #solo #dom:nb #exhibitionism #objectification #sub:nb

You’ve just finished work, and you’d love to sleep. If only you could get some help with what you really want.

What follows is a work of fiction, and is my first published story. Any resemblance to other characters or properties are circumstantial, and the characters in these stories are consenting adults unless otherwise specified. You may not reproduce this story, in whole or in part, without linking back to this page or without seeking my express written permission.

Ugh, it’s been quite the day, you think, through bleary eyes. But why are you so tired? Sweat beads off your brow as you drop your heavy bag to the soiled floor beside your bed. The dang thing feels like a sack of rice - maybe tomorrow, you could ease off a bit on the work prep. You glance at your reflection in the floor-length mirror at the corner of the room… Well, at least the work’s been keeping you fit, you observe, as you flex an already-strained bicep. Damn. That’s starting to get some definition.

You size yourself up and down. “Yeah, I’d hit that,” you say, and you see the reflection mirror the words silently, and give a soft little smirk. If anything, the glass seemed to chisel the features that little bit more, each muscle glistening that little bit more than the last. You think wistfully of how nice it’d be to take that mental image and show it off to the world. World… Oh, right, there’s still the matter of just how tired you are. Thirsty, too. You saunter over to the nightstand, and take several swigs of your waterbottle before placing it carefully back down.

Just what did you do today? Thinking back, the day was such a jumbled mess. You lifted a bunch, you recall, and your boss said you were good at what you did, and told you to make sure you had plenty of water afterwards, to keep you good and fresh.

Well, water’s no problem, you always keep a full bottle nearby. But sleep sounds good.

Trouble is, sleep’s been hard to come by lately. Hours of tossing and turning the night prior. You’ve tried melatonin, that doesn’t seem to help. Going to the doctor seems like a hassle, but you’ll do it if you must. Vaguely, you recall the one thing your friend told you over Discord… Maybe you could hypnotize yourself to sleep? Wait, is that even a thing to hypnotize yourself?

Can’t hurt to try.

Your hand snakes up to your neck, and pulls off the long, dangling crystal pendant given to you from your ex. That’ll do, you think, and saunter back to sit lazily on the end of the bed, eyeing your reflection in the mirror.

“Alright, reflection… Um… me. Alright, me. Do you see this in my hand?” You swear you can see the mirror you mouth the words a fraction of a second after you say them. Strange. Nonetheless, you find yourself looking at the crystal after a while. You remember hating it when you first got it, but wore it anyway to spite him. It’s not like some shiny bauble can take away the sting of being called vain. Better that he’s not in your life anymore.

It was a pretty crystal. A deep azure, always able to refract a source of light from impossible angles hidden in its geometry as it spins. Nature’s disco ball, you think. Yes, you’re happy now that you have it. You hold your arm up, and start it swaying. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Yes, that’s good. Keep staring at the crystal. You’ll find yourself incapable of looking away.”

Well, that seemed true enough for now, it was a good crystal. Good start.

“Take a nice, long, blink. Just keep watching yourself, and just keep watching your pretty crystal. You’ll find it hard to close your eyes, your focus is so intense upon that crystal. In fact, with each blink, you find yourself drifting, drifting ever deeper into my control.”

Blink. Damn. There might be something to this. You allow yourself a furtive glance at your face in the mirror, to see if you show any sign of being more restful. No. Wait… Is that a smile? You don’t remember smiling. The reflection moves to speak.

“Now now, pretty thing. I don’t recall giving you permission to look away from my crystal.”

Blink. Oh, right. Their crystal. No. My…

“My crystal’s special, don’t you know?” The reflection gloats, still slowly swinging their crystal back and forth. “It gives you what you most desire.”


“You know what it is you most desire, don’t you?”

Blink. Of course you do. You want sleep. You try to mouth the words, but you find they come out soundless.

“I want you.” The sound comes from the mirror, but not from your reflection, whose grin just broadens at hearing the words.

“That’s my good pretty thing. And I can see you’re already so, so happy to see me.”

You don’t have to look down to know it’s true. Your free hand wanders, trying to decide between brushing up against an engorged nipple or an engorged member… Lust prevails, and you desperately take hold of the meat between your legs. Huh, you don’t remember taking your clothes off. Doesn't matter now. Fuck, were they hot, just gripping their thick cock so provocatively as they swung their crystal

Blink. Their crystal. Your reflection speaks, and the mirror projects their sound outward to you.

“I’m going to count you down from three. And when I reach zero, you’re going to be fully under my spell, and what happens after that will become very difficult to remember. You can try all you want, but the harder you try, the more tired you’ll become, and you’ll only remember snippets. Three.”

Blink. Man, you wish you could properly close your eyes, you’re just exhausted.

“Two.” Blink. Your other hand starts stroking urgently.

“One.” Blink. Blink. Fuck, what did your reflection tell you? You’d already forgotten.

“Zero. That’s a good pretty thing.”

Good pretty thing. You can’t help but smile sheepishly.

“Good pretty things get their work done, right? Put my crystal back, and pick up your bag.”

Yes. Good pretty thing, you mouth silently, and weakly bow your head to drape their pendant back around your neck before stooping for the bag you’d dropped earlier.

“That’s a good pretty thing. Such definition you’re getting in those pretty muscles!”

You beam, enthralled by your boss. Your one bicep glistens madly as it keeps stroking, the other straining to hold the big sack. “Now be a good pretty thing and cum your mind away. Oh, and don’t forget to drink your water.”

Good. Pretty. Th… Oh, shit! The shot was already arcing its way to the floor before you even managed to finish the though. What thought? Where were you?

Oh, that’s right. Work, ugh. It’s been quite the day, you think, through bleary eyes. But why are you so tired?


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