🤓 Hypnosis


                                            Thread image: [ Pristine Mix OC donut steel pre/post hypnogoggles ]( https://u.smutty.horse/miatniihlxs.png / https://u.smutty.horse/miatnlcqucf.png )


                                            >Pristine Mix was a socially awkward pony when you first met her. She was very intelligent and had a good memory, but any ambiguity in a conversation would see her butting in to correct it with a gently lisped “well ackshually”.

                                            Learning about the origins of Sweet Apple Acres from the Apple family matriarch? She’d butt in to correct Granny by three bits on the historical price a bushel sold for that year. Tell the CMC a story about the infamous pirate Silvermane and her crew to hype them up for a trip to the beach? She’d interrupt every ten seconds to name each of the crewmembers Greymane was ordering in the famous assault on the Celestial Cutters, and rattle off how they died. Show filly scouts how to use the sun as a compass because it always rises in the East? Actually the sun doesn’t rise on its own, Princess Celestia raises it. She was pathologically incapable of leaving a fact untold or a slight inaccuracy uncorrected, and genuinely couldn’t figure out why everyone hated it.

                                            >That’s why you knew you had her as soon as you started talking about the “cool hypnosis goggles” you “bought for ten bits from a magazine” last week. Not a single word about how you were going to go around hypnotizing ponies to be your eternal love slaves, she couldn’t care less, though she also couldn’t help but argue with you about their effectiveness and why your plan was doomed to fail.

                                            >“It’s just not possible.” she argues. “The equine vision center can go into seizures in rare cases, triggered by rapidly flashing lights if the frequencies happen to sync up with a natural resonance of the neurons, but swirling patterns and RGB glow reprogramming the entire brain, let alone to such a fine degree? That’s absurd. And don’t even get me started on ‘subliminal’ audio, it’s all a bunch of hooey. If you can’t make out what it’s saying consciously, the audio processing portion of your brain certainly can’t make it out with even less context cues from the visual and spacial awareness actively focusing on a sound provides. You got scammed. You’ll have to collect a ‘harem of impossibly devoted love-slaves’ the old fashioned way: by slaughtering the natives and threatening the remaining children into obeying you, like Gruesome Crusade’s 4534 B.U. massacre in pre-unification Isërfæld (what we now call the Crystal Empire).”

                                            “Bet you it does work.”

                                            >“I’ll bet anything it doesn’t, I just told you it doesn’t work that way. Do you think I’m lying? You know I wouldn’t lie about something as trivial as mind controlling a harem.”

                                            “If you think it won’t work then try them on. What do you want to bet if they do?”

                                            >“Well obviously if they do work, which they won’t, I’ll be your devoted love-slave. What’s that count for?”

                                            “If they don’t I’ll buy you a donut at Sugarcube Corner.”

                                            >“Score! Hand ‘em over!”

                                            >She quickly pulls off her glasses, setting them down on the grass in front of her, and replaces them with the hypnogoggles.

                                            “You have to put the earbuds in too. No cheating.”

                                            >“Yeah yeah.”

                                            >The moment the goggles are in place, they secure themselves to her head, pricks of pain the only sign that they’re now ready to begin scrambling the egghead.

                                            >“Ow!” she yelps, before blinking her eyes as the screen flashes to life.

                                            >“See, this isn’t working. I’m not submitting to you.”

                                            >You smile, it’s out of her hooves now.

                                            >“Why would I want to obey you unquestioningly?” she asks out loud. "I don’t? I don’t want to.”

                                            “Feeling anything yet?”

                                            >“Of course not, it’s not working, because hypnosis doesn’t work like this. There’s no way I would submit to your every command? I’m not going to surrender my thoughts to your control?”

                                            “You’re phrasing these like questions. Sure it’s not working?”

                                            >“Master, I told you that hypnosis can’t empty somepony’s thoughts. No thinking. Only listening.”

                                            “What did you just call me, again?”

                                            >“Master. Why do you ask, master?”

                                            “Oh no reason. Just thinking it’s odd that you would start calling me master for no reason, if they truly aren’t working.”

                                            >She scrunches, visibly trying to reconcile what you just said. “Master. A linguistic corruption of the pre-ponish term Mærestor, somepony I submit to and obey. I submit and? No, that’s not… huh?”

                                            >She’s starting to feel it now, the subliminal programming of the goggles slowly pulling her thoughts toward the inevitable conclusion.

                                            >“Hypnosis is a process by which my mind is dominated and I become Master’s love-slave… no? Hypnosis is a process by which my mind is emptied and filled with Master’s commands. That’s… no, what? Hypnosis a proces by which my free will evaporates and is replaced by Master’s.”

                                            >She knows something is wrong, but the hypnogoggles won’t let her figure it out.

                                            >“I am being hypnotized. Hypnosis is real and converting my mind to an empty vessel for master to fill.”

                                            You chuckle “Looks like I’ll be eating that donut, then?”

                                            >“No! You’re buying me a donut. Because. These goggles don’t… they… hngggg…”

                                            >A flash of recognition crosses her face. She realizes what’s happening.

                                            >Panic floods her body as she starts gently pulling at the goggles and wincing, any stronger resistance impossible by now

                                            >Tears well up as she starts muttering. “No. please Master no. no. I don’t. no don’t. want it. Not… not your slave. no. Off. I want… them off… get…”

                                            You speak over her “You’re horny and want to get off.”

                                            >The command smoothly redirects her train of thought. Her back arches and she lets out a deep moan.

                                            >Face flushed and clit winking, she pulls her hoof from her face and snakes it under her body to start rubbing herself.

                                            >“Horny. I’m… want to come.”

                                            “You’re in a bad heat, slave.”

                                            >The goggles sink the words effortlessly into her unguarded mind. Her blush deepens as she starts to shiver, bending down to stick her sopping cunt that little bit higher in the air.

                                            “Who are you.”

                                            >“Hnng. I’m… Pristine Mix.”

                                            “Wrong.”

                                            >Confusion joins the mix of despair and arousal. Isn’t she Pristine Mix. She knows she’s Pristine Mix like she knows the capitol of Prance, the direction the Pone Lisa faces, that she’s so horny and so close.

                                            “You’re my slave.”

                                            >Of course. She’s such a silly pony. She’s his slave.

                                            You reach back and gently push her hoof away as you start stroking her cunt, sliding your fingers back and forth over the slick wrinkles.

                                            “How does that feel?”

                                            >“Master’s slave really wants to come.”

                                            “Are you close?”

                                            >Nod. So close. Need to come. Going to come.

                                            “No. Slaves aren’t allowed to come.” you state, reaching down and pinching her clit as it pokes out.

                                            >Pristine freezes up, making a keening noise.

                                            “Hold still.”

                                            You start roughly fingering her with both hands, stretching and spreading and squishing and squeezing.

                                            >You can feel her pulse speed up, swollen clit frozen in a wink at your command as you torment it, throbbing harder and faster.

                                            >She’s taking stuttery, gasping breaths now. Her mind is breaking apart, thoughts scattering as she’s hoisted higher and higher, no orgasm in sight, just more and more and more.

                                            You bend down and start to nibble at her clit.

                                            >It’s too much for her. The goggles flare as she shrieks and groans and howls, wordlessly begging for release; each thought is pared away and replaced - do not orgasm.

                                            >Slowly she brings what’s left of herself back under control.

                                            >A phrase thunders through the blasted wasteland of her mind and out her mouth - “Mind blanked. Ready for modifications.”

                                            “Try to act normal, for one.”

                                            >She straightens up, still gently panting.

                                            “And if anyone asks about the goggles, say you’re proving me wrong about hypnosis. Hmm, how about this. I want you to forget that I told you you’re not allowed to come, but still no orgasms, okay?”

                                            >She nods, and then looks around confused.

                                            “And no cooling off either, you’re just gonna keep ratcheting yourself up until I say otherwise or you come. What do you think?”

                                            >“So close. Please!” she begs, as she reaches back and starts masturbating again.

                                            “And no masturbating.”

                                            >She whimpers and crosses her legs, trying to rub them together.

                                            “Hmm, I think we’ll go get donuts. Your treat. But you look like you’re really close and I’m not cruel. Don’t get caught, but if you convince Pinkie it’s national free donut day you can touch yourself quietly until I’m done with my donut. Who knows, maybe that’ll be enough to get you over the edge?”

                                            >She’s off like a bullet, dragging you behind.

                                            >Perfect Mix was a socially awkward pony. She was very intelligent and had a good memory, and was always tense and out of breath. Anything she said was just as likely to be fiction as fact and she seemingly took great pleasure in spreading misinformation; practically shivering with delight whenever someone fell for one of her ruses, then sprinting off, probably to laugh about it with her new coltfriend.


                                            Prompt continued by another Anon:

                                            Thread image: [ OC donut steel ]( https://u.smutty.horse/miatnaqrhcz.png )


                                            >>38785362

                                            "Did you know you only use ten percent of your brain?"

                                            >You new pet, thoroughly corrupted, bounces up and down on her hooves as she spreads the 'fact' to a crowd of ponies.

                                            "Actually!"

                                            >Chocolate speaks up then stops herself. She glances nervously in your direction. She can't prove anything but she knows you were the one who did this to her friend.

                                            "T-that's really interesting!" Chocolate nodded along.

                                            "Yeah! And your blood is blue when it's not oxygenated!"

                                            >Chocolate cringes, but restrains herself.

                                            "M-makes sense," she forces herself to say. "I'll just um... go."

                                            >Chocolate scampers off, properly cowed. Even without the hypnogear she's already been dominated in a sense.


                                            AN: Pristine's convinced everypony in town her real name is Perfect. When she proposed it Master said it was hilarious. Gaslighting the town was worth an entire *three minutes* of laying on her back, reaching her hind legs behind her head, and scooting under an open bath tap to let the water tickle and tingle; she was so close she could feel it in her teeth by the end, too!