It all started with the spirals. McKayla was up late one night working on a project, a collage she was making out of old science fiction magazines and back issues of Time, and she'd thrown on some cheesy 60s spy movie just to give her some background noise and keep her from falling asleep. She'd almost completely tuned out the film, engrossed in replacing the tanks of Tiananmen Square with Godzilla, when a piece of psychedelic set design that was outrageous even by the standards of the era caught her attention.
It was a plexiglass disc, covered in a spiral pattern composed of row after row of concentric circles of different colors--McKayla saw white, orange, red, and a burgundy color that only stood out when she paused the action on the DVR. It was the kind of color scheme that would only grow more popular over the ensuing decade, she knew, until it became practically ubiquitous by the late 70s. Each row of dots grew smaller and smaller as they receded into the center of the wheel, making it look almost like an octopus was reaching its tendrils in to encircle some small and cornered prey. The whole thing was mounted on a rotating shaft, and... and there was a Caucasian woman in a bikini staring at it.
As McKayla resumed the movie, she realized that there were a whole room full of women, each one occupying a booth opposite one of the spinning discs. They all had blank expressions of rapt concentration on their faces, and each one was repeating a series of mantras that was apparently intended to turn them into... 'Pleasure Units'? McKayla suddenly caught herself wishing that she'd been paying more attention to the movie. She hit record, hoping the cable box would pick up the parts she'd missed.
There wasn't much more to the sequence--one of the bikini-clad women went under the spell of the hypnotic spiral, only to be rescued by the square-jawed spy who wasn't nearly as interesting as the thing he stopped. McKayla rewound the scene and watched it again and again, absolutely fascinated by the tissue-thin veil of espionage action over a subtext that was blatantly, overtly sexual. She'd never really had that much of an interest in sex before, but suddenly she felt a surge of heat between her thighs that made her mahogany fingers dip into the waistband of her panties before she even realized she was doing it. Something about the idea of being influenced like that, of being made to feel desire awakened McKayla's arousal as surely as if she was in one of the brainwashing booths herself.
By the time she finally came, McKayla was moaning along with the hypnotized slave. "My sole purpose in life is to bring pleasure to my companions," she droned, her dark brown eyes rolled back under her heavy, fluttering eyelids. "All that is asked of me, I will perform." She'd gotten remarkably good at hitting the rewind button before the boring killjoy with the smug grin came in to wreck everything, even with the distraction of her own fingers against her needy clit. "It is an honor t-to offer... my body..." McKayla whimpered, the pleasure finally getting the better of her as she squeezed her thighs tightly around her hand as an overwhelming climax crashed through her quivering body.
McKayla spent the next few days telling herself that she should really stop masturbating to weird and creepy fantasies of being turned into a submissive, brainwashed fucktoy... and the next few nights finding newer and more blatant ways to indulge those same fantasies. She watched the brainwashing sequence from the movie several more times, as well as looking online to see if the film ('Our Man Flint', apparently) had any sequels that elaborated on the whole hypnosis scheme. It didn't, but there were some scenes of women being brainwashed by subliminal messages delivered through their old-fashioned salon-style hairdressers that McKayla spent several pleasant nights with.
Once the video site got the idea that she liked that clip, it started giving her others in a similar vein. A sequence where two women were enthralled by a magic spell that turned their eyes into blank, unseeing orbs of pure white. A scene from an old superhero movie where a British character actor used alien technology to render a bubbly blonde scientist into his helpless slave. A sequence in a made-for-TV movie where aliens attempted to condition another blonde with disorienting lights and colors. More spy movies and TV shows from the 70s, almost too many to count. McKayla soaked them all in, finally admitting to herself after almost a full month of masturbation that she had a fetish.
Even so, it came as a shock to her to find out that other people had the same kink. She stumbled on it almost by accident, following a series of suggested videos one Friday night with her hand idly rubbing her cunt that led her to something she never thought she'd see... an actual, factual brainwashing video. McKayla didn't click on it, not that first night, but the description made it pretty clear that this wasn't a fantasy scene pulled from some cheesy science fiction movie like the Orgasmotron or the Jedi Mind Trick. It was real.
'Content Warning,' it read. 'This video contains suggestions intended to induce arousal whenever you think about displaying your naked body. Repeated exposure will eventually lead to making an adult social media profile so that you can post naked pictures of yourself (although you will not be required to show your face in these photos). If these suggestions make you uncomfortable, DO NOT WATCH! Please view one of my other hypnosis videos instead, or check out my website.' The link that followed was to one of those self-same adult social media sites, where McKayla discovered that VampireKing2017 had almost a hundred different inductions. And nearly thirty thousand followers.
That was a lot to take in. On the one hand, it made McKayla feel a little bit more comfortable about her newfound kink; knowing that it had a community easily twice the size of the little town she'd grown up in made it seem a little less like she'd suddenly developed some sort of horrible sexual deviance heretofore unheard of. On the other hand, it opened up all sorts of new temptations; as McKayla investigated the trail of links and follows and reblogs and likes, she discovered all sorts of videos and audios and chatrooms and even conventions where you could go to get hypnotized in person. That kind of freaked McKayla's shit out a little.
But not nearly as much as when she finally watched one of the hypnosis files. Thankfully, VampireKing2017 had an introductory induction that was intended for people who just wanted to be hypnotized, no strings attached; even so, McKayla fast-forwarded to the last five minutes and listened to his instructions, just to be on the safe side. She had already read more than a few warnings from people who were saying that he might make good content, but that didn't make him a good person, and McKayla decided it might be a good idea to lurk for a little bit. Just in case some of the things that sounded too good to be true actually were. A cursory examination of the file revealed that this wasn't one of them, though, and so McKayla put it on one Saturday afternoon and lost herself in the spiral for a little while.
She woke up with an absolute blank where the last twenty minutes should have been, and a wet spot on the couch the size of a dinner plate. Apparently McKayla's subconscious took to hypnosis a lot better than she anticipated; she didn't remember a thing after VampireKing said, "I'd like you to take a moment and relax for me now." Not even her orgasms penetrated the thick, blank fog in her brain where the memories of trance should have been; McKayla's cunt was a sloppy, gushing mess and her fingers were practically soaked with her own pussy juices, but the more she struggled to think about it, the more the events of her first time as a subject receded into a warm haze of oblivious rapture. It was hot... but it was also terrifying at the same time. McKayla decided to put her experiments with trance on hold for the moment.
That resolution lasted all of twelve hours. By the time her Sunday evening ended, McKayla had watched the video another five times, each time completely losing herself in the soothing voice and the hypnotic spiral. She just couldn't get enough of the thought of being controlled and programmed and genuinely brainwashed into obedience--it was all her fantasies come true, right there in front of her, and the temptation was simply too strong to resist. Still, though, McKayla understood that from everything she'd read, spontaneous amnesia after a trance wasn't common. It was probably a sign that she was very susceptible to hypnosis. And that meant she needed to be very careful about who she let into her brain.
McKayla decided that she was probably a pretty safe person to drop to.
It took her a few months to develop an induction that she thought would really work; she'd found plenty of books on the subject, enough to sort out the real hypnosis from the 70s spy movie nonsense, but she also had to keep up with her job and her studies and prevent her grades from slipping any further than they already had. During that time, she made herself promise not to listen to any file that she hadn't thoroughly examined for harmful suggestions, a vow her sneaky and treacherous subconscious apparently agreed to on condition that she never ever ever remember anything that happened while she was in trance.
Finally, though, after all the study and practice and scribbled out portions of notebook where her rough draft took shape, McKayla had something she was ready to record. It had some of the suggestions she fantasized about--triggers to return her to a trance state on command, triggers to freeze her like a helpless doll, triggers that melted her pussy into mindless arousal, all carefully worded to ensure that they couldn't be used by anyone she hadn't given explicit permission to hypnotize her. McKayla dictated the induction into the microphone on her smart phone, waiting until well after midnight to reduce the level of ambient noise as much as possible and restarting at least twice when a passing car drowned out her uncertain efforts at a soft, hypnotic voice. She hit play almost immediately after she finished, eagerly anticipating that wonderful moment of total oblivion that always happened when the trance took her.
It didn't work. Something about the sound of her own voice put McKayla's teeth on edge, wrecking all of her efforts to relax and sink into the blissful relaxation that she usually achieved so effortlessly. Or perhaps it was the lack of a visual focus--even though she always opened her eyes at the end of her trances, unable to recall exactly when they'd closed, McKayla couldn't deny that she was used to having a spiral to capture her attention during the early stages of the induction. She still had quite a bit of work to do, she decided. Fortunately, she only had another week before school let out for the summer and she could devote all her free time to her new project.
She started by downloading some free audio editing software, applying pitch and timbre filters to her own recorded voice in an effort to get something that didn't blatantly sound like McKayla but also didn't blatantly sound like McKayla disguising her voice in an effort to fool her subconscious into thinking it was listening to a stranger. Every night, she played the latest effort to herself in the hopes that this would be the one that finally got to her, and every night, she wound up trancing out to someone else instead.
It got a little frustrating--McKayla knew she wasn't a bad hypnotic subject, quite the opposite in fact. A single slip-up three weeks previous with a file she thought was safe had left her totally unable to remember how panties worked, but somehow the same unconscious mind that didn't even let McKayla think about how to put on underwear anymore wasn't about to go under for her own voice. She found herself channeling her sexual energies in other ways, coming up with all sorts of side projects to improve her brainwashing experience. It was fun, but McKayla was starting to suspect that she might be going a little bit off the deep end with it.
She was still pretty proud of herself, though. She'd sanded down a plexiglass sheet she bought at the hardware store into a perfect circle, complete with a hole in the middle that she attached to a small motor. The whole thing clipped onto her desk, and when McKayla finished applying the stickers she found at a local crafts supply shop, she found that she'd created a pretty good replica of the Pleasure Unit programmer from the clip that started it all. A little work with an old mic stand, some clear PVC, and a strip of LED Christmas lights added a (sadly non-functional) brainwashing helmet to the whole ensemble.
A few weeks later, and McKayla had developed an entire ritual around her masturbation. She'd picked up a wooden chair for next to nothing at a local thrift store, and a few hours of work with some tools and a metal bracket had allowed her to put a hole in the middle where her new massaging vibrator could fit. All she needed to do was turn it on, sit down in front of the spinning disc and press her cunt against the pulsing head, lower the brainwashing helmet, and press play on the induction before slipping her hands into the straps she bolted to the back. And suddenly she was every helpless fuck doll she'd seen in all those movies. It made her cum so fucking hard she left a puddle on the floor... but it was still someone else's voice. It didn't have the suggestions she craved.
And then one day she found it. She didn't really expect to--she was tinkering with the editing program, adding a little bit of echo to her voice to help layer over whatever distracting quality it was that her subconscious found so objectionable, and suddenly when she played it back through the headphones McKayla found herself thinking how much nicer it sounded that way. How warm and calming it was. How easy it was to just relax into her computer chair and let her eyes slip shut and drift away to the beautiful relaxing woman who seemed to know exactly how to make McKayla's mind melt into deep, mesmerized bliss....
Thirty minutes later, McKayla's eyes slowly opened. She slowly, carefully pulled her hand out of the waistband of her jeans with a shiver of lingering ecstasy. There was a huge patch of darker blue where she'd soaked them with her arousal, and her cunt felt so sensitive that she felt like even a light breeze would set her off again. It was amazing, better than all the other trances she'd ever experienced, better than anything she'd ever imagined. Because despite the white mist that covered her memories, McKayla knew that it had worked. She could sense the triggers in her brain, just waiting to be used. She'd really been programmed to obey.
Even though she had to work the next morning, McKayla wound up listening to her new files until almost 1 AM. Every time she woke, her increasingly groggy brain could feel the programming etching a deeper groove into her mind, convincing her to obey and accept her new commands without question, and she didn't have to worry or fight or struggle to resist. She knew they were safe, because they came from her, and she could simply relax and let them into her unconscious without fear or hesitation. Already, McKayla was planning a follow-up file, complete with new triggers and conditioning to mold her malleable thoughts further. Until she was the perfect brainwashed toy, ready to be used by whoever she gave the keys to her will to.
She didn't know who that was yet. Maybe she never would. But until that day, this would do quite nicely. McKayla finally pulled herself out of the chair and staggered to bed, already dreaming of the pleasures to come.