HypNoCon Jam 2022


by Mind-Control-Makeover

Tags: #cw:noncon #microfiction #nonconjam

The interrogation room was cool but dry. I was naked. They kept me naked, transferring me from one cement box to another. There was no privacy. I pissed and shat naked and under watch. I ate naked and under watch, using my bare hands to eat from paper wrappers. They took me for walks, naked, trotting me around the exercise yard. No one spoke to me. They were trying to reduce me, to an animal. Maybe it was working. Time was getting slippery.

I didn’t remember when they brought me for interrogation. Without remembering when I fell asleep, I had woken up in the room with two chairs, myself handcuffed to one of them. A guard checked on me through a latch in the door. Seeing I was awake, they snapped the latch shut and opened the door to admit a lone woman in a lieutenant’s uniform. The guards left the two of us alone.

She was lissome, with a bob of dark, curly hair and the affect of a handsome bespectacled predator. She sat down across from me and every detail was a calculated projection of power – the crossing her knees, the folding of her hands, the anticipating smirk she let me see. I recognized her – she was the Imaginatrix, famed interrogator. Rumors abounded of her occult wisdom, of her cruel experiments, of how she enflamed her own impressive sexual appetites in order to nurture psychic powers. The better informed recognized her real weapon – her skill at hypnotism.

“Well, sweet thing, here we are again. Hopefully for a productive chat.”

We had never met before. I told myself that this was how she worked. A confidence trick. She would try and convince me that she controlled me so that I would give up control, thinking I had no choice. I fixed her with the same silent glare I was trained to give all interrogators.

“Oh, are you upset?” She tilted her head from side to side, studying me like a cat studies a bug. “Did I insult you by implying you weren’t a good little royalist? Are you worried you might give up the location of your dear queen mother?”

My toes curled against the cement. Her voice stirred a faint arousal in me, that seemed to be slowly aligning like a magnet. I took deep, steady breathes, despite the tightening hitch in my throat.

“Do you like that? Having a powerful woman to bow and scrap to? Do you wait for her go ahead to wank? Is that why you’ve been so shy with us?”

Deep, steady breathes. Her voice was making the hairs on my chest curl. My nose flared. I rolled my neck, willing those muscles to loosen. My irritation showed its teeth, previous discipline fading.

“Why? You think I’d be thinking about you, lady?”

“I know you would be, sweet thing.”

My crotch flexed. I felt red as a school boy. I didn’t like this. A woman hadn’t flustered me this much since I was fifteen. This wasn’t like me. I should have been cautious, but all I could think about was paying back the humiliation.

“You get off on poking tigers, lady? You wouldn’t be sitting there teasing me if I weren’t cuffed down-“

“You aren’t handcuffed, sweet thing.”

I blinked. I wasn’t handcuffed. My hands parted easily. I held them up and stared at them in bewilderment. There weren’t even red marks around the wrists. Don’t question it, my instincts screamed. Grab the bitch. Wring her neck. Put the fear in her. Tell her you’d let her live if you she calls the guards and-

Except I stayed planted to the chair. She hadn’t said I could stand up, I told myself.


“No doubt you’ve notice how your body responds to me.” The Imaginatrix continued. “How my words make it – make you – aroused. Why do you think that is?”

I don’t try and argue. Don’t engage her, I told myself. Even though my dick stiffened and I hoped she could see. I tried to remember the words to the anthem, to my favorite children’s rhymes, to the prayer of St. Ignatius, but…


I gripped my cock and started to rub, pumping faster and faster as the shaft grew harder and harder. My churning need build up to a head, when all of a sudden, I let go. Disbelieving, I tried to calm my panting.

“Good, sweet thing.”

“What the fuck-“


I felt like I would rip my dick off. My chest thundered, blood thundering in my ears, thunder rolling through my thoughts like hate. I lifted my eyes up to the Imaginatrix.

“W-what the fuck did you do to me?”

“I’ve trained you.” The way she rolled the word on her lips made my hard cock jump. “Like a toy.”

“That doesn’t… no, this is absurd… you never…”

“What?” The Imaginatrix giggled. “You trust your memories? We’ve been doing this for weeks. And we’ll keep doing this, sweet thing, until you realize that I’m where your loyalty lies.”

I stared helplessly.


I roared from the mix of humiliation, shame, and frustration. As I pumped my cock to the point of breaking, only to let it go again just before cresting, the animal in me wanted nothing more than to leap across the room, grab the Imaginatrix by her curly hair, and smack her glasses off with my angry prick. My unbound feet wouldn’t even let go of the floor.


She wouldn’t win.


She wouldn’t.




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