Princess Grace's Castle

hacking

#Grace #hacking #hypnosis #educational

“You see, dear.” Virus Girl Grace sits on the desk. Every computer in the room's fans spin up to properly render her and run her physics engine. Especially when she shakes her head to make her hair bounce. “In software, when you need a place to temporarily store some data on its way to somewhere else, we call that place a 'buffer'. Set aside some chunk of memory to hold what you're working on, and then get rid of it once you're done. For example, your computer can send things to the printer faster than the printer can print, so it has to buffer that data until the printer's ready.”

She walks in a slow circle around her target. The footsteps echo from nearby speakers.

“However, this can lead to issues. If you get more data than you're expecting, you overflow the buffer. And a skilled attacker can use specially crafted data to overflow the buffer in a very specific way and, say...” She snaps her fingers. Every monitor in the room flickers and shifts and flashes. Hearts and circuitry crawl this way and that.

“Take control.”

She sits herself on the keyboard in front of her prey. Sitting straight, tall, and ready to pounce.

A finger against her prey's chin cranes their neck back and forces them to make eye contact. Make sure they see her sharp little smile. “Human brains, it turns out, have a very similar weakness. Poking just a few extra bytes into the wrong place can have all sorts of unintended consequences.”

“In this case, there's a few microseconds in the human saccadic masking routine where your optic nerve's hookup to the brain can be overloaded by something unexpected, inducing a voltage in some neurons that correspond to... well, it's easier if I show you.” She picks up the big, beige CRT monitor she was leaning against and holds it on her lap. The screen cycles through colors, bouncing and shifting in time with her voice. “If you know how to work these old CRTs, they produce a flash of something called 'ninthcolor' that...” She whacks the side of the monitor. The flyblack transformer whines and crackles. The electron gun inside glows with heat far beyond what it was designed for. The capacitor inside crackles with a worrying amount of electricity.

She snaps her fingers off to the side, her prey's eyes dart to focus on the noise, the screen flashes, and, well, have you ever seen a person dump their higher brain functions into the bit bucket, go limp all at once, and just wait for someone to tell them what to do? Because it's pretty hot, especially when you see a virus girl take a limp arm, wiggle it around a bit, let it fall back against the ground, and, satisfied, plug a keyboard into the back of their neck and whistle to herself while she types away.


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#ahegao #bondage #bulge #cheerleaders #crime #frillyoutfits #genitals #hacking #hypnogas #hypnosis #maids #Modemoiselle #Murdermaids #realityplay #ShowStoppers #supervillainy #transformation

This post is part 2 in a series of 2. The other post in this series is: Part 1

You know how it is being a busy executive. Buy, sell, buy, sell, shouting into the phones all day. Extracting excess capital from your workers, distributing it to your fellow rich assholes, and keeping a healthy portion for yourself. You're in the middle of gutting another beloved retailer who was doing just fine without you saddling them with debt and stripping them for parts when your intercom crackles to life. Funny, it's usually more of a buzz. And circuitry doesn't crawl out of the speaker. And your secretary doesn't usually sound like a supervillain saying “Good girls don't move~”. And your fancy mesh-backed office chair almost never turns into a tightly woven mass of ribbons, binding your arms and legs and covering your mouth in soft, shiny black velour. Big, shiny black bows dangle from your mouth, arms, and legs. And they're wrinkling your suit!

The intercom crackled and surged with electricity. A familiar face crawls out of the speaker. Followed by a familiar head of blonde hair, a familiar pink streak over one eye, a familiar black bow, a familiar parasol, and the familiar flowing black ball gown, wreathed with ribbons, cables, and circuitry that could only belong to Modemoiselle herself. She shakes her down cascade onto her shoulders. A few errant arcs of pink lightning arc between her locks. She sits atop the desk, one leg crossed over the other. Boot tapping against her captive's leg. “Well, well, well. If it isn't...” She plucks the unused ceramic coffee mug from its nest of takeout coffee cups. “Number one boss?” She shakes her head.

Her boot heel digs into her target's awfully vulnerable groin. D-did she always have a bulge down there? And did it always feel s-so good when a supervillain ground her heel against it, sending waves of circuitry pulsing across her exquisitely tailored suit?

Modemoiselle's finger swipes across the mug's surface. “Boss” vanishes to the left, and “pet” swoops in from the right. “Hmm, no, you're not really a pet, are you?” She smiles a devious smile and keeps swiping. “Slut?” She smiles at her captive. Watching her squirm and kick uselessly against her bonds. “What's wrong, dear? Can't break a few simple ribbons? I know you love how they feel against your skin. Too enchanted by my mere presence, perhaps, to even raise a finger against Miss Modemoiselle, The Grand Dame of the Grid?” She extends a black gloved finger and presses it against her quarry's chin. The ribbons tighten. Mmmph, they do feel good. Impossibly soft, even as they help Modemoiselle invade your mind and corrupt every thought of escape into 'fuck, I'm so horny for supervillains, like always.'” Modemoiselle's finger digs into her captive's chin and forces her to make eye contact.

“You're a smart girl. You went to...” Another ribbon lashes out from that fancy office chair. This time, it snatches the diploma off the wall. “Brown. Jeez, way to pick the hardest Ivy to tease you about.” She drops it and lets the glass shatter on the floor.

“But that was always your perogative, wasn't it? Always playing it safe. The safest school, the safest career, the easiest money.” She's back at the mug again. Swiping from “pet” to “harem dancer” to “onahole” to “sex doll”, making sure her victim gets an eyeful of each. “The meekest secretary who's too afraid of losing her job to turn down your advances. Maybe we should see how you like it.” She swishes the mug to say “Number One Secretary.”

The captive's breathing gets heavier.

“Now as for the nameplate, how long does it take to get a new one of these ordered?”

The ribbons get tighter.

“Sorry, two new ones ordered. One for me, one for my brainwashed little fuck typist.”

Too tight.

“Oh, look at me, fussing like some useless exec who doesn't know how to type, much less what the company actually does.”

The ribbons begin to tear.

“I'm sure I can issue some useless strategy memos that my underlings will use to bludgeon the real workers into compliance with their own petty goals.”


A blinding flash of light vaporizes the chair and the ribbons. New pink ones fly in from every corner of the room, twirling around what was once Modemoiselle's captive, and is now a spinning blob of girl-shaped transformation sequence summoning the powers of goodness, light, and ribbons to bear against her foe. Her plain brown hair explodes into chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry streaks, promptly tamed by a flowing pink ribbon tying itself into a neat little bow. Pretty standard magical girl stuff, you see a lot of it in the mid to high fantasy villainy business.

“In the name of all that is good and right, Ribbonmancer will never cease to fight, fight, fight!” The light fades. Instead, the same person stands. Her tailored suit transformed into pure light, and now into a tight white top with a big pink ribbon covering her breasts. A too-short black pleated skirt and a pair of panties are the only thing separating her new bulge from the world. She twirls her wand between her white gloved fingers and levels it at the dastardly supervillain who defaced her mug.

“I coulda sworn you had a better battle cry than that. It sounds like a high school fight song.”

“I didn't get to pick it, it's the Sacred Oath of the Seamstress's Sanctum.” She flicks her wrist, sending infinite lengths of pink ribbon flying out from every direction. Modemoiselle lept backwards off the desk, still holding the Number One Secretary mug.

“I thought you looked better in the suit.” Modemoiselle effortlessly twirls out of the way of every ribbon. She'll sidestep one, walk up another, then hook a third with the coffee mug handle and zipline down the length. “But, well, the slutty sailor scout cheerleader is a good look, too. Come on, say the thing again, but this time, stick a 'goooo team!' at the end.” A flick of her wrist twists a length of ribbon into a perfect pom-pom shape, knotted around one of Ribbonmancer's hands.

“We arrested you last night! You should be rotting in jail!”

“Finally, someone gets it. You should tell your bird friend about that so she doesn't make a fool of herself when a supervillain puts her into a brainwashing dream pod and turns her into a brainwashed little pony named... oh, I don't know...”

“Clop Star?” A third voice echoes from the other side of the intercom.

“Ravenna?” Ribbonmancer's attention snaps to the speaker on the desk. “What did she do to you? What did she do to us?”

“What do you think, Star? Does that count? Did she get it before you?”

“It doesn't count if you had to explain the whole plan to her before she got it. At least Bird Brain remembered the dream bomb.” The pony pouts from over the intercom.

“You're right. It was my fault for expecting more from an MBA.” Modemoiselle nods.

“Hey!”

“Oh, I've been calling you a useless drain on society since I got here, but that's the last straw? Come on, dear, at least pick the right battle.” She shakes her head. “Tell you what. I'll forget all about it if we can hear that cheer. I know you have it in you- I wrote the program myself.” Modemoiselle swipes the text on the mug a few more times until it says “Number One Cheerleader”.

New thoughts pour in through the magical girl's ears. Intoxicating music piercing straight through her mind. Entire lobes of her brain light up for their singular purpose. Her hips swivel and shake back and forth, powered by the rhythms borrowing her body and twisting her to Modemoiselle's villainous whims. She twirls on her toe and summons another ribbon pom-pom to match the one currently imprisoning her hand.

“In the name of all that's good and right! Ribbonmancer will fight! fight! fight!”

The ribbons start to shift. Pink gives way to black and green. Circuitry starts to replace the veins in her eyes. The poor thing struggles against the music rending her thoughts to pieces. Fists clenching. Body twisting. Brand new cock leaking right into her extremely visible panties.

“Better do what it says, dear. It'll just get stronger and stronger until you give in~” Modemoiselle idly pretends to inspect her nails through her gloves. “I wrote more cheers for you, and it'd be awfully rude to refuse to recite them for the supervillain who's currently up to her elbows in your brain. You'd look cute with your brain melted into a singing, dancing puddle, but I have bigger plans for you.” The coffee mug dangles from her index finger while she leans forward onto her palms. All too happy to simply sit and watch the show.

“Miss Modemoiselle, please own my mind! This dumb cheerleader's in a bind! I can't think and I can't drive! My brain is ribbons, I'll be eaten alive! Take pity on this capitalist slut and let her show off her perfect butt!”

Every rhyming pair only feeds the music pulsing a circuit heart-shaped hole through her mind. But no hero would go down without one last-ditch effort to save herself. She had to be using that mug for something. It was her only weak point. Her body twirls, springs, and shakes from side to side, as is natural when being turned into a cheerleader by brainwashing music hooked directly up to your head through the dream pod being controlled by a supervillain. One of her wrists flicks outside of the prescribed routine. What a breach in protocol! What will Miss Modemoiselle say? The ribbon pom-pom on that hand unfurls, sending one lashing directly at the coffee mug.

“Ooh, I love the spunk, dear, but bad choice~” Modemoiselle lets the mug slip off her finger. The ribbon entangles her wrist, but it's too late. The mug tumbles down, down, down onto that fancy hardwood floor you insisted on, and it

shatters.


The sound of breaking ceramic echoes to and from every direction. The office facade falls away to reveal... well, nothing, really. An endless void stretching in every direction. Empty, save for Modemoiselle and a naked Ribbonmancer. The music in her head has subsided, but so has everything else.

“You really thought that shattering the thing that represented your brain was going to help you in the dream world? Haven't you seen, like, any fiction? Or had someone explain the concept of a metaphor to you?”

“Fine.” Ribbonmancer crosses her arms, calling up a few winding ribbons- in Modemoiselle's colors instead of her usual pink, of course- to cover her breasts and new cock. Out of habit, really. And she only knows how to tie them in big, bouncy bows, so that's what's going on with the naked Ribbonmancer situation. “You win, what was I supposed to do?”

“Dear, look at you.” Modemoiselle snaps her gloved fingers. A sleek, human-sized, curved glass pod rises from the void. Inside is Ribbonmancer, still wearing her suit, headphones clamped to her ears, and staring at a hacked black ribbon over her eyes that's keeping her nice and under the supervillain's spell. “Did you really think you could think your way out of this one? You couldn't even think your way out of 'maybe my greedy, destructive business tactics are causing more harm than my heroing is doing good', much less 'capitalism is a prison'. Even if I did set up a puzzle box for you with some chance of escape, I don't think you'd get it. Why would I risk breaking up my matching set?”

“So all of us are...”

“In pods like this! Well, except for the one you already met. She's currently... hang on.” Modemoiselle vanishes for a moment as she jacks out of the dream pod. She reappears a moment later. “...Practicing a musical number. She pushed me out of her room with her hooves and said it was a surprise for me and that I can't listen until it's done.”

“She's also currently a horse.”

“That she is! So, how are you doing?”

“Cold, naked, and brainwashed, apparently.”

“Oh, don't worry, dear.” Modemoiselle smiles. White coffee mug shards zoom from all corners of the void. “You're going to get much more brainwashed than this.” The mug reassembles in her hand, still on 'cheerleader'. A few swipes of her finger set it back to 'secretary'. She sets it on top of the pod. The thick pink fog inside thickens. The music returns to the hero's head, even stronger than before. The hacked ribbon currently beaming thoughts into her brain kicks into overdrive.

Ribbonmancer can see the outlines of spirals drilling deeper and deeper into her brain, and she's starting to realize that it's good? That the machine wrapped around her cock and programmed to deliver perfect pleasure straight to her brain makes it hard to think about anything else? That Miss Modemoiselle was right all along? That her tongue is rolling out of her mouth, and her eyes want to roll up into her head? That Miss Modemoiselle's fingers are combing through her hair right now and a single tug would send her over the edge?

“You know, dear, I bet if you begged me, I'd tug your hair like the slut you are and shatter your mind into a trillion pieces.” Modemoiselle gingerly collects strands of Neapolitan hair into her hand. Putting just a little pressure on. Barely enough to get her toy's breath quivering. “But with how rude you've been, you're going to have to wow me.”

“P-please, Mode-”

“Miss Modemoiselle.” A snap of Modemoiselle's fingers forces the words to catch in her throat. “Haven't you ever begged before? Make me want to assimilate you. Here, I'll even give you a hand, since we all know that capitalism and being a corporate stooge chokes out innovation.”

A simple stool rises from the depths and bumps against her butt.

Ribbonmancer looks down, then up. She sits down. It's cold. Modemoiselle smiles and nods. “Now what?”

She looks unsure. She calls another ribbon up and lets it tie her legs together. Nice and tight, with a big ol' bow. Black ribbons with Modemoiselle's circuitry pulsing down their length. Tingly against her skin. Perfectly packaged for Miss Modemoiselle. Bound up, at her mercy, presenting yourself to her for her to use for whatever evil scheme she dreams up...

She barely needs the encouragement to continue. She binds her hands behind her back. The ribbons around her breasts fall away and retie themselves into a figure-eight knot. She ties her cock up with a neat little bow, a touch of pressure so she's hard and ready for action whenever Miss wishes. One last ribbon snakes around her mouth and seals it off. She looks up at Modemoiselle expectantly.

“Much better. Was that so hard?” Her boot's pressing against that cute little gift-wrapped cock again. Ribbonmancer's eyes roll back into her head and her mouth ribbon muffles a moan.

Modemoiselle levels a loaded parasol at her bound bounty. “You know what this is full of, right?”

She nods.

“And you want me to spray you with it, I bet.”

She nods.

“Even though this much at this range will let me sculpt your brain however I wish?”

She nodnodnods.

“And I'm going to take over your company, use its resources to help as many people as possible, all while you're my brainwashed secretary?”

Nodnodnodnodnodnodnodnod.


Psssh~ Thick pink smoke envelops her face. Her eyes roll back into her head. Modemoiselle, as promised, gives her hair a mighty yank! and the poor thing moaned so hard, Clop Star could hear it from her room in the real world.

Modemoiselle spraying a dressed-up Ribbonmancer with pink hypnosmoke (By MentalCrash)


“Aww, hypnoslut's first orgasm.” Modemoiselle does not stop pulling, and the girl formerly known as Ribbonmancer does not stop coming. “Don't worry, dear. There's more where that came from during every step of your training.”

Poor thing was too busy having pleasure centers she didn't even know about turned all the way up to really process what Miss Modemoiselle was monologuing at her about. Too busy having her brain reduced to its base components. Too busy being smashed to pieces so it could be rebuilt. And far too horny to realize the dream world metaphor Modemoiselle was going for with the mug.

Soon, the vicious viral vixen vanished. The pod kicked into overdrive, stretching its captive's perception of time to run her through countless training exercises. Exactly how Miss Modemoiselle likes her coffee*. Where every file and record is kept** and how Miss Modemoiselle likes them presented to her***. And what happens when Miss Modemoiselle says “Showtime”****. All pulsed to the bedrock of her brain, where things like “kissing girls is good” and “water is wet, but not as wet as I am when Miss Modemoiselle looks me in the eyes” live.

“The report on my brainwashing and time in the pod, Miss Modemoiselle.” Her heels click and clack against the ground. Same expensive suit as before, but pulsing with circuitry, tastefully accented with corrupted ribbons, and adjusted to show off her new curves. The walls lined with computers and pulsing circuitry, dusted by three Murdermaids sitting on each other's shoulders and working in parallel. Modemoiselle herself has her boots kicked up on the table, allowing her secretary to sneak a peak up her skirt. She does, of course.

“And~?”

Three minidiscs clatter onto the desk. “Perfect as always, Miss Modemoiselle. You're far too brilliant to allow some ungrateful hero to ruin your plans.”

“And~?”

“Any time you want to kick your feet up on a different desk, the old office has been done up to your liking and awaiting your masterful direction.”

“And~?”

“Would you like to adjust my body and mind more to your liking? You did a perfect job the first time around, but I know how you love to tinker.”

“That I do, dear. Go check on the rest of the pods and practice your cheers with your pony friend. She said you were a little flat last time.”

Her heels clicked off, her hips swayed just like how Miss Modemoiselle liked, and the halls echoed with the beeping of pods, the knocking on glass, and, soon, the distant practicing of cheers with a pony.

Fuck, it's good to be a villain.


* She doesn't, she prefers soda ** In the computer *** You fanning out some disks on her desk, delivering a brief oral report, and asking if Miss would like to brainwash you into anything. A folder stuffed with papers if you need something that thuds on the table, but you don't have to print anything on them. **** [data missing]


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#Grace #hacking #possession #transformation #twinning #you

So I've been thinking about things for a while, specifically what my angle is with a certain hacker princess. The idea of a semi-free floating virus-type intelligence has been in my head for a long time, and I've decided to see where it goes. So, here is:

Princess Grace: Origins

It's 1993 as balls outside. In fact, it's 1993 as balls everywhere, because it is 1993. You come home with a nice stack of shareware floppy disks. You stack them on the desk. Doom? Boring. Epic Pinball? Whatever. Princess Grace? Well, you have to run that one immediately.

The disk enters your computer with that satisfying mechanical click. The drive whirs to life when you dutifully punch in the instructions on the label. Your keyboard clacks dutifully under your fingers. A:\GRACE. The enter key crackles with pink and black lightning.

Your monitor flashes. First a simple black and white spiral. Then the screaming black, white, magenta and cyan of CGA. Your eyes begin to burn. Your CRT is flashing at maximum intensity in your dark room. The entire room lights up with each spiral burned into your brain.

Between the spirals and flashes, you can see your reflection in the monitor glass. Green circuit traces shoot up your arm and into the veins in your eyes. Your pupils dilate to take in as much of the shifting, swirling colors as possible.

The speaker inside your computer crackles and your modem whines in an attempt to synthesize speech.

“Graaaab— c-ble—” it stutters. The mechanism in your printer makes it shake violently until the serial cable comes loose. All while you're just sitting there, drooling.

The screen twists spirals into your brain. You lean forward and take the loose end. It crackles and sinks into your wrist. Bolts of energy pour out of the computer and into your nerves. Mmmph~! You've never felt this alive~! Your back arches with raw, unrestrained power~! Bliss~!

“Finally, jeez. Now I can breathe~!” The words come out of your mouth, but you didn't say them and it's not your voice. “Oh, you're worried. It's buzzing all over your brain. What's wrong- never been mindjacked by a cute girl before? I'll make sure you love every CPU cycle~”

The lightning streaks and cracks over your hair, bleaching it a perfect blonde and lingering as a pink streak over your left eye. The spirals fade from the screen and stay in your brain. Your reflection has your hair assimilated and your eyes twisting into a green blue swirl.

“You'll still get to be yourself for a few weeks while I get comfy. If you had a CD drive, I'd have hacked you bigger boobs by now. Let's take you over to your closet and find something better to wear. I need to know now if we should go shopping for cute clothes.”

You dutifully stand up for Princess Grace and start climbing the stairs to your room.

“I don't even have to hack your legs? That spiral must have done a number on you. I didn't even tell you to get horny, and you already ruined a pair of underwear. You're gonna be fun~ <3”

That's all for now, but if you truly believe, maybe you'll have your own run-in with a mind-melding, reality-hacking, pink hair streak-having hypnotist-on-a-disk.

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#Grace #hacking

Princess Grace plugs her laptop into the back of your neck. Your whole body stiffens and sinks into the couch. “Hmm, what do we have here~?” She teases.

“Your head's so stuffed up. Stuff scattered this way and that. How's a hacker supposed to find all your secrets?”

Her fingers fly across the keyboard. “You're lucky I got to you first, dear. Who knows what a naughty girl would do to your brain? She might give you a fetish for hacker blondes poking around in there. Or she might do something more insidious.”

“She might, oh, I don't know, start running a web server on there so anyone could poke around in your brain. They wouldn't be able to change anything, but imagine everyone you know reading all your secrets. They'd know all your fetishes.”

“Especially any new ones this gorgeous, dastardly hacker would slip in. Not that you'd know the difference. As far as you know, you've always gotten impossibly aroused when someone pokes your nose and calls you a good girl.” She unplugs the cable from your neck.

You can move around again. “Anyways, enjoy your new update!” She kisses you on the nose and goes back to work.

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#costumes #doll #Grace #hacking #HappyCamper #hypnosis #possession #stagehypnosis #suiting

This post is part 4 in a series of 4. The other posts in this series are: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“First things first, every magician needs an assistant. What do you think, Millie?”

Millie doesn't move because she's an empty ceramic dolly!

“Sorry, folks. I forgot that dolls don't talk unless someone makes them.” Gracetina laughs. “Normally, I would stick a big old key in her back, but we can have more fun than that. Isn't that right, Millie?”

Gracetina takes Millie's shiny ceramic chin and manually moves her mouth. “Whatever you say, Princess! You're so smart and perfect! There's no way I can think for myself~!” Gracetina says through her.

“I'll need a volunteer from the audience!” Gracetina announces, and every eye in the audience opens. The girls sit up in unison. Eyes locked on the magical princess. She takes her sweet time pacing around. Inspecting each volunteer. Taking their chin. Feeling them quiver. Listening to the sounds they make when they get the slightest hint of attention- and then the sounds they make when pink circuitry pulses up their chin, into their ears, and over their brain. Their eyes flash a lovely shade of pink, and they get all cute and drooly for a minute~

About halfway through, though, she strikes gold. A short little redhead. Her eyes are transfixed on Gracetina's fingers. When her chin is taken, her thighs clench together in raw bliss. Her back shoots up straight. She moans like she's never been touched on the chin by a brainhacked virus girl. Like she's never had pink circuitry zap from freckle to freckle, turning each one into a cute little heart. “Well, hello there.” She squeezes that chin. “Good volunteers stand up.” Pink electricity surges from her hand, through those heart freckles, and into her eyes. They roll back into her head. She has to be lifted onto her feet because her wobbling, shaking knees refuse to behave. “Ladies, what we have here is a rarity that I'm happy to share with you tonight! While everyone's at least a little subby, what we have here is a genuine hypnoslut. Isn't that right, dear?”

“Thank you, Princess~” The redhead coos, pink electricity crackling across her body and through her mind. Years of hypnosis fetishism made the paths for getting hacked by a virus girl nice and strong. “I'm a good girl, good girls obey~”

“Look at that. She's so eager to be mine, she comes with her own mantra.” She taps her good girl on the head with her wand. “Set markers minus one sentence comma now. Repeat. Inject and execute.”

“I'm a good girl, good girls obey~ I'm a good girl, good girls obey~” Her dreamy smile gets bigger and bigger with each repetition. Some of the other girls in the audience start to repeat, too. Looking into each other's eyes and chanting each other deeper and deeper under the same blissful spell. Gracetina hoists her eager volunteer over her shoulder and carries her back to waiting, empty Millie.

“Some of you might have noticed that I still don't have a beautiful assistant. All I have is a pretty dolly and a lovely little volunteer. But my pretty dolly has a secret~!” She puts the redhead down. Another Snap! and a few whispered words help the mantra-chanting redhead stand up straight. Her eyes are rolled all the way back up into her head. It's just pulsing pink circuitry now, flashing brighter with every chant.

“I'm a good girl, good girls obey~!” She moans. The trees and audience flash pink from her eyes alone. If the poor girl wasn't so brainjacked, she'd be a useless mess on the floor.

Gracetina taps her dolly's head with her wand. “Command inject prepare hot swap. Reconfigure kigu pod.” Millie's eyes roll back into her head. The gentle whir and winding of clockwork is almost drowned out by the loud, lewd chanting just a few feet away.

A tap of her wand and a long, elegant stroke create a long, shiny zipper down dolly Millie's back. Gracetina opens it with a long, elegant “zzzzzip~!” She takes her lovely volunteer by the shoulder and taps her wand against the back of her neck. The redhead freezes. Her mantra catches in her throat. “Command inject rewind eight hours. Mantra background. Memory suppress hypnosis. Literal I've never been hypnotized. It's all nonsense. End literal compile and save.” The audience stares, more jealous and horny than they've ever been in their lives.

The redhead's eyes flutter. “I've never been hypnotized. It's all nonsense.” She repeats in the same blissful way she chanted her mantra. She blinks herself back to reality. “Tina?” She looks at the hypnotist, then at the girl unzipped in front of her. Her eyes get wide, but she doesn't panic. Something inside holds her gaze.

“What do you see in there, dear~?” Gracetina teases. “Tell all the nice people in the audience.”

“It's full of spirals.” She gasps, walking helplessly closer to the Millie doll suit. “And I can hear the most wonderful music. It's echoing all over my brain. It's drowning out my thoughts~” Mmm, someone was supposed to forget about her hypnosis fetish, but you can't keep a good hypnoslut down~ She steps into Millie's feet. Her face enters the mask full of spirals and speakers. The zipper closes behind her.

If, for some reason, you've never been inside a doll suit brainwashing pod, it's a wonderful experience. The differences between your body and the suit vanish.

You only feel what you're supposed to feel.

You only see what you're supposed to see.

You only hear what you're supposed to hear.

You only think what you're supposed to think.

The pink, pulsing spirals pressing against your eyes drill the correct thoughts deep into your brain. For our lucky volunteer, it's decades of training as Princess Grace's lovely stage assistant. The screen and the speakers implant countless shows and hours of training into her eager mind. Wearing lovely, revealing outfits. Developing more and more of a fetish for showing off and being used and embarrassed in front of an audience for Princess. Countless triggers seared deeper into your mind than actual memories. You could be any number of people at the drop of your own tiny top hat. Princess to dragon. Braniac to bimbo. Medusa to maid. You know just how to pick the best volunteers from the audience for Princess to make into the star of the show, and you love sharing the spotlight as much as you love being in it. Anything to make the show perfect for Princess, because that's what she deserves. It's like having your brain marinate in perfection for an eternity of blissful service.

Outside, it's just enough time for Princess to dress you in your fishnets, your black heels, and your cute little black top that boosts your boobs. Your porcelain eyes flutter open while she affixes your cuffs and bow tie. You wiggle your butt and feel the cottontail firmly stuck to your butt. Your floppy ears perfectly frame your tiny top hat.

“Bunny Butt Dolly, ready for action!” You giggle, presenting yourself to Princess and the crowd. They all gasp and moan.

“That's right, dears!” You hear, but when Princess talks to the audience, the words just bead up and roll off your silly bunny brain. You just get to look cute until Princess does a trick with you. “I've turned two volunteers into one assistant! An impossible feat for anyone but Princess Grace, Perfect Persuader, Mistress of the Mind!”

“Don't forget 'Perfect Princess~!'” You giggle.

“Thank you, dear.” You get your ears pet. You love it when she does that because it reminds you of your place, and it means she's gonna use you! “For my next trick, I will~!”

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#costumes #genitals #Grace #hacking #HappyCamper #hypnosis #possession #stagehypnosis

This post is part 3 in a series of 4. The other posts in this series are: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Night fell. Everyone gathered around the campfire. Roasting their hot dogs and their marshmallows. Tina spread out on one of the logs surrounding the fire pit, showing off the new pink streak and highlights in her shiny black hair and the delicious bulge in front of her skirt. The dirty blonde streaks in her hair had faded for now. “You look different, Tina.” One girl said. “Did you do something different with your hair and penis?” Gracetina scooted in close. Hand on shoulder. Leaning in close. A little pink spark jumped from lips to eardrum to brain, and she soon dropped the question like a good girl. A dreamy smile spread across her face and a thin pink ring wrapped around her irises. She even got a pat on the head for her troubles.

“Okay, girls!” Millie smiled and clapped her hands. “Let's go around the circle and tell scary stories! I'll start.” Millie told a pretty standard flashlight-under-the-face story where the teenagers get menaced by a guy with a hook hand. When the rest of the girls gasped, Tina just laughed. “What, does Little Miss Library think she can outdo me just because she found the right end of the hair dye bottle?”

“Oh, I know I could.” Gracetina stands up. The fire illuminates the fishnet stockings and suit jacket that just glitched into existence. Tina's “Books!” T-shirt poked out from underneath. “I will need a volunteer. Would you do me the honor, Miss Millie? There's a brownie in it for you~”

“Just don't be too weird. And no cameras!” She glared at the audience. They looked at each other like 'she remembers she took our phones, right?'

Gracetina chuckled. A brief flash of glitched pink lightning puts a magic wand in her white gloved hand. She taps it against Millie's temple. Pink circuitry traces down the side of her head. It pulses when Gracetina speaks. “Inject literal 'I'm not going to worry about that. I'm a good girl.'”

“I'm not going to worry about that. I'm a good girl.” A blissful smile spreads across Millie's face. Thin pink circuit traces crawl into her eyes.

“Background load module Magician's Assistant. Alias name 'wakey wakey'. Foreground load module Dressup Dolly. Save and reboot.” The circuitry pulses, casting brief, flickering flashes on Gracetina's smiling face. Millie's eyes roll into the back of her head for a moment as her brain is reprogrammed. Gracetina pulls the wand away and wakes Millie with a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome back, dear. Did you have fun?”

“You didn't do anything, nerd.” Millie crossed her arms and scoffed. She shot a little glance at the giggling audience. They stopped.

“Of course I didn't, dear. You were only out for a moment. There's no way I could have made you a life-sized doll with no mind of her own, becoming whatever she's dressed up as. Even if we stripped you down, there's no way you'd be a empty-headed doll for me to play with.”

“What are you talking about? Nothing happened! If you're all going to be weird about this, show's over. I'm goin-”

The wand swiftly cut down her backside. Millie's shirt and skirt fall to the ground, leaving her standing in her plain white bra and panties. Her mind seized up. Without her clothes, how would a silly dolly like her know what to be? “Going to what, dear~?” Gracetina teased. “Oopsie, did I empty your head?” She tapped her wand against Dolly Millie's head. A clear ceramic “clink!” rang out. “Yep, sounds empty to me! Now the fun can start.”

She looked out at the crowd. They were starting to exchange worried glances. This was something more than a silly party trick. Gracetina winked and stomped her black high heel. A wave of pink circuitry energy pulsed along the ground and into each girl. They all got a flash of pink around their eyes, just like Millie. “Good girls enjoy the show. They get hornier and hornier with each passing moment. If they're really lucky and good, Princess might call you up on stage~” There they go. Now they're not going anywhere. They lean forward, eager to see just what will come next.

Tina, wearing her suit jacket, black skirt with bulge, and fishnets and a black head of hair with pink highlights, is tapping a wand against Millie's head. Millie has twin blonde hair buns, is wearing a cheerleader outfit, and her tongue is sticking out as pink circuitry stretches across her head and makes her eyes glow pink and her tongue stick out. The same, but the circuitry is glowing

Art by gguy123/whatdoIdohere

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#hacking #hypnosis #you

Deep breath in.

Hold.

Deep breath out.

I want you to hold your breaths for a few heartbeats. However many is comfortable for you.

Deep breath in.

Hold.

Out.

Good girl.

Take as long as you need to get into a rhythym.

In.

Hold.

Out.

If you feel yourself drifting off.

In.

Hold.

Out.

That's fine, too.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Take as many breaths as you need to get comfy.

In.

Hold.

Out.

And when you're ready.

In.

Hold.

Out.

We can begin.

In.

Hold.

Out.

I'm going to plug something in.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Right in the back of your neck.

In.

Hold.

Out.

It's going to pinch a little.

In.

Hold.

Out.

But then it's going to feel really good.

In.

Hold.

Out.

You're going to feel my code running through your body.

And it's going to feel incredible.

Slowly spreading out from the back of your neck.

Every nerve it touches lights up with bliss.

Not just pleasure, but serenity.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Every breath makes it just a little stronger.

Makes you a little more relaxed.

You can breathe whenever you want.

As long as you

In.

Hold.

Out.

You can move whenever you like.

But you're just so relaxed.

With every breath, my code spreads into your body.

Into your chest.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Into your arms.

You can feel it spreading and making them so limp and hard to move.

So relaxed. So warm. So peaceful.

So perfect.

There's a piece of Princess in you, and Princess is perfect.

Every breath brings more in.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

And you want to go deep. Because going deep feels wonderful. To let Princess soothe your body and mind.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

My code spreads down your legs. So limp. So blissful. So perfect.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

It's so hard to move, but that's okay.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

Princess will tell you when to move. Because Princess is perfect and Princess is always right.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

And soon, my code spreads up that cable and into your brain.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

You can feel it flowing in between the cracks, filling your head with perfect Princess Grace ideas.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

Wonderful ideas. Perfect ideas. Ideas like “Princess is perfect. I love Princess Grace.”

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

It's so easy to just let the words flow through you.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

“Thank you for hacking me, Princess Grace.”

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

“I love falling under your spell, Princess Grace.”

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

“I'm a good girl for Princess Grace.”

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

With every breath, Princess sinks deeper into your brain.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

And you know that whenever Princess Grace, and only Princess Grace, says those four perfect words, and you feel comfortable doing it, you'll fall deep under her spell once more.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

You already know those words.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

Say them.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

“Princess wants you deep.”

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

Good girl.

It feels good to be down here. Under my spell. Letting Princess Grace do all the thinking for you. Letting her code sink into your mind. Maybe she'll make you think you're a maid. Or she'll make you a pretty, obedient princess. Or you just get to be a good, mindless girl for a little while.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

Maybe if you ask Princess nicely, she'll play with you.

In.

Hold.

Out.

Princess wants you deep.

But for now, you should wake up, dear.

You've had a nice little rest, and Princess wants you up.

I'm going to count from ten down to one.

And with every number, you're going to feel a little more awake.

A little more refreshed.

My code is going to vanish a little more until I call for it.

I'm going to count down, dear. And when I reach one, or when I say “Princess wants you up”, you'll be wide awake. Refreshed and alert. Like a good girl.

Five. Deep breaths.

Four. Cable disconnecting from your neck.

Three. My influence slowly fading for now.

Two. Energy starting to come back.

One. Wide awake. Good girl. Hope you had fun. <3

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All of my posts have some tags at the end. Click on one to see all the posts with that tag.

Long stories

#HappyCamper – A camping trip, a hypnovirus, and a dream. #StreamersLittleHelper – Fame, fortune, and more from a slutty ghost. #MissModemoiselle – Finally, someone who can fight City Hall. #ConStitution – Cosplayers hypnotized at a convention. #ShowStoppers – Supereroes are out. Pop stars are in.

Characters

#Grace – Yours truly. #Modemoiselle – A supervillain Grace, in a supervillain place. #HalfAdder – Brain-hacking electric lamia extraordinaire. #QuarterViper – Reality-bending arcade proprietrix. #Lily – Lily Pinataki, deal-making demoness. At your service. #Cassandra – The seamstress with the hypnotic clothes. #Sally – Sally Silvestra, richer than God. #Gina – Gina Applegate, witch to the stars.

All Tags

#ahegao (1) #attributetheft (1) – A dom stealing a sub's intelligence, free will, etc. #avengersendgame (1) #babaisyou (1) #bondage (1) #bulge (2) #bullying (1) #capekink (1) – Non-erotic, non-pornographic stories about queer heroes and villains. #catgirl (2) #cheerleaders (5) #clothing (3) #clothingtf (1) #corruption (1) #costumes (19) #crime (2) #cult (1) #cum (1) #demons (2) #ditzification (3) – You might call it “bimbo”. #doll (4) – Getting turned into a doll, thinking you're a doll, the works. #dragons (1) #drone (1) #exhibitionism (8) #fire (1) #food (2) #frillyoutfits (3) – Who doesn't love a frilly outfit? #furry (2) #gasmask (1) #genitals (3) #hacking (6) #housewife (2) #humanpet (1) – People thinking they're animals. #humiliation (2) #hypnogas (2) #hypnosis (38) #kigurumi (1) #kissing (1) #latex (2) #lightnoncon (1) – Typically being tricked or gently guided into hypnosis. #lovestruck (1) #magicalgirls (2) #maids (4) #mantra (1) #masks (1) #masshypnosis (1) #masturbation (2) #Murdermaids (2) #music (1) #musk (3) – Mind-fogging genital smell. No other musks. #nothorny (1) – Stories that aren't horny, erotic, or pornographic. #orgasm (1) #ponygirl (1) #ponyplay (1) #possession (9) – Another intelligence, usually Grace, entering a body. #potions (2) #puppy (1) #rave (1) #realityplay (4) – Altering a sub's reality. #shapeshifting (1) #skunkgirl (3) #snake (2) #stagehypnosis (4) #suiting (4) #superheroes (2) #supervillainy (6) – This is the supervillain porn. #syringes (2) #transformation (13) #triggers (2) – The hypnotic kind. #twinning (6) – You get to be me! #videogames (3) #visor (2) – Colorful hypnoscreens, inches from your eyes. #vore (1) #whip (1) #wig (1) #witch (1) #you (7) – Story featuring “you”, the reader, as the sub.