Lyka Bloom
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New (For Now) Untitled Story
🕑 Added 2025-02-08 16:26:53 +0000 UTCThe recent poll said you all wanted a new story with feminization and mind control, so here goes! I'll update this post as I'm working, so make suggestions or make notes as you like:
Session One
Michael
“I feel alone. Lost.”
The words hung in the air between me and the gorgeous therapist on the other side of the desk. I hate to admit that I chose her from the list of therapists I found online because of her beauty, but that was the truth of it. Now that I was here in her office, the reality of her beauty made it difficult for me to tell her the truth. I f I didn't, I would be breaking a promise to myself. I knew I was unhappy and I knew I had to find a way out of that unhappiness before it drove me crazy. And that meant I would be honest. Even if it meant the woman across the desk could judge me. That was her job, wasn't it? To judge and advise?
“You feel lost how?” she prompted.
Did she knew the way she tapped the end of her pen against her pouty lower lip made it more difficult to answer? Women as hot as Rachel Collins never seemed aware of the effect they had on others.
“I get up, I go to work, I come home. Rinse and repeat. I know I'm young, and I should be out having fun with friends, but that's my problem. I've never been very good at making friends. I heard somewhere that the friends you make in college are the ones you have for the rest of your life, but I never made any. I graduated two years ago and I still haven't met anyone I would call a close friend. And definitely not a best friend.”
“What about co-workers?”
I shook my head. My hands were on my knees, kneading them nervously.
“You do work in an office, right?”
“Sure,” I agreed, “but it's a bunch of cubicles crammed together. The woman on the other side of mine is in her fifties. One of those women with a lot of pictures of her cats and some bible verses cross-stitched to decorate.”
“What about sex?”
I blushed at that.
“What about it?”
“Any girlfriends? Random encounters? Where do you find sexual fulfillment?”
I shrugged. My hands abandoned my knees and found one another, twisting and gripping.
“Are you a virgin?”
“No,” I said. Maybe a little too fast. “I had a girlfriend my freshman year of college. She was an art student. A little weird, but I liked her.”
“Why do you think that didn't work out?”
“I don't know.”
That was honest, at least. Carrie was odd, sure, but I think most creative people are. She dragged me to some exhibits and movies I never understood, but she was pleasantly chubby with a great smile and big breasts that I was fascinated by. Our sex life was unremarkable, other than it was my first. I don't think she found me very attractive, and our sex was tolerated rather than embraced on her part. I told Dr. Collins all of that. I halted, I stammered, I twisted in the overstuffed chair across from her, but I let it all out.
Instead of the freeing feeling of having unburdened myself, my cheeks warmed and I looked down at the floor.
“You feel ashamed,” she said, stating the obvious. “Why? Because your relationship didn't work out? Because it wasn't perfect?”
“I don't know,” I said.
She tapped her lower lip again. I wondered what it might be like to kiss those full lips and dared my eyes away from her. She was ana eclipse, a thing I could not look at directly lest I be blinded.
“I would like to try an unusual kind of therapy with you, if you agree to it. The important thing is that you do agree to it. It doesn't work without that.”
My eyes moved from the cream carpet, a color that matched her suit and the whimsical scarf around her throat, to Dr. Collins.
“What is it? Scream therapy or something?”
“Hypnotherapy,” she said.
“That's not real, right? Like making someone think they're a chicken?”
“You're thinking of Vegas acts and comedy clubs. But the premise is the same. Hypnosis doesn't work unless you consciously agree to let it. But it has been very effective in patients who embrace it. Patients like you.”
“What's a patient like me?”
“Lost. Directionless. That was your own diagnosis. If you give me permission to access your subconscious, I am sure we can give you some purpose. But you have to let me in.”
I thought of vampire movies, of floating figures scraping at a window, begging to be let in. Never in the history of cinema was it wise to invite a stranger inside.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. If you think it will help.”
Her smile lit up the office and warmed those chilly parts of me that felt completely alone.
“I promise it will. We'll begin at the next session.”
Rachel
Rachel finished her notes on her last session of the day and leaned back in the comfortable desk chair. It cost a small fortune, as did most of her furniture, but her career and side projects kept her well-funded. She strained to hide her enthusiasm for the new patient. He was perfect. And that scared her a little. Almost too good to be true. He was incredibly vulnerable, and she was poised to take delicious advantage of him.
She willed her hands to stay away from the heat between her legs. If she thought too long about Michael Holcomb and his weaknesses, she might be unable to resist pleasing herself in the office. Natalie might walk in to deliver the schedule for the following day. Not that it would matter much. Natalie was one of hers, after all. One of her special projects. One she decided to keep.
Why should she deny herself? A new project meant new opportunities, new ways to experiment and play. Rachel opened the intercom to the exterior lobby.
“Natalie. Come in here please. I need to release some pressure.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the secretary replied, and the connection closed with an electronic click.
In a pair of breaths, the door to Rachel's office opened and the pretty red-haired slut entered. She paused, locked the office door behind her, and removed all her clothes save for a matching pale blue lingerie set, complete with stockings and garters.
Rachel turned the chair slightly so that her legs were freed from the desk. The skirt of her business suit was short and easily lifted to expose the luxurious pale silk panties beneath. She closed her eyes, head tilted back. Natalie moved soundless ly to the chair and knelt at the therapist's feet. Delicate hand's rested on Rachel's thighs. Natalie's tongue delivered a languorous lick up the surface of Rachel's underwear, applying a teasing pleasure.
“Such a good slut you are,” Rachel praised. “But no teasing. Mistress needs release.”
Rachel assisted her devoted secretary, pushing aside her bulging panties and freeing the thick cock within. Natalie took the cock by its base and devoured the tip, taking the shaft deep into her mouth before releasing and licking the papery flesh. She was an expert cocksucker, trained for months and now practiced for years. She was Rachel's third project and the first to endear herself. Now, she used her formidable skill to turn Rachel's shecock from hard to steel, the trans woman's balls tightening under the weight of her obedient doll's tongue.
“Open wide,” Rachel ordered and Natalie obeyed, extending her tongue like a pink runway.
The jism shot to the back of Natalie's throat, but the trained girl did not falter. She remained stone while Rachel finished in the secretary's mouth and across her chin. Natalie knew to remains till until she was told otherwise, and Rachel straightened in her chair when the last of the cum leaked from the tip of her cock. She wiped the last pearl across Natalie's lips. The way the semen rolled slowly down to the tip of her chin pleased the therapist. Natalie had no will left to resist any command Rachel might give. In fact, dripping with her Mistress's cum was as close to Heaven as Natalie knew.
“Good girl. Go clean yourself. Bring the car around. I'll be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Natalie rose, gathered her clothes, and exited. Rachel enjoyed the creamy flesh on display and the tight ass of her servant as it swayed on her way out. Her mind cleared now that she dispensed with the lust brought on her by her decision to make of Michael whatever she desired. There was no buyer for this one. At least, not yet. This was for her own pleasure. The slim young man had all the makings of the perfect sissy slave. He need only be guided to his new identity. Fortunately, Rachel was an excellent guide.
Session Five
Rachel
It was so hard to know when the subject was ready. They might say they are, might even suggest it with the droopy look on their face when the induction began, but until they fully submitted,s he could not plant the seeds for her special project to flourish.
Michael had almost two months of sessions behind him, as if that in itself meant he was ready. No, each subject was different and each a unique puzzle to solve. Candice, who was Rachel's first sale, rushed into her obedience like a charging horse. Holly, a more recent project, took almost a year before the suggestions rooted and bore fruit. And even the signs of acceptance could vary wildly from project to project.
“You see before you a set of stairs,” she said.
The blinds were closed and the metronome winked as it swung and interrupted an LED light shining at the crown of it. The steps induction was an old reliable, and one that she could do with little thought. It was a trance she induced on autopilot. Despite her boredom with the practice, it was effective in early stages of any project. It was easily understandable and provoked relaxation and calm. It informed trust. And it gave Rachel some access to the deeper parts of Michael's mind.
This would be his third trance, and he proved himself to be an accepting subject. While he still clung to his mental defenses, they were beginning to crumble. More accurately, he was disassembling them and allowing Rachel more and more access to his inner self. The core of his being. The person most spend their entire lives hiding from the world. She didn't have all of him, yet, but she saw glimpses of his deepest self.
“Four. Feeling so light and free, your body more relaxed with every step down.”
Michael's shoulders were slumped, his eyes half-open. His mouth sagged and hung open a bit. As she recited the induction, Rachel found herself distracted by the pink tongue hiding just inside his open mouth. How long would it be before that tongue lapped at her cock?
“One. All the way down. Completely relaxed and open.”
It was time again to probe. To see how much resistance remained. Questions that would seem innocuous enough, but allowed Rachel the opportunity to test Michael's ability to receive and internalize commands. Most importantly, for Michael not to remember. Once he could be controlled, the project could begin.
Michael
I floated. I swam on a sea of nothingness. I rested on clouds. Above me was a starless sky, dark, but not lonely. It was here in this place that I felt most connected. To myself. And to Dr. Collins, who insisted I call her 'Rachel,' but I couldn't bring myself to display that kind of intimacy.
She spoke to me, her words loud and powerful in my haze. She asked me questions about my life, about my home address, about my job. And I answered. She told me it was easy for me to answer her, and so it was. It helped I understood our doctor/patient confidentiality, and so I knew what I told her was private. But I trusted her as a person, too. She was kind and open and her words were so soothing, even if I wasn't completely focused on them.
She asked me about my life, details that should have been embarrassing, but I answered anyway. Dr. Collins told me how good I was for answering when I told her I jerked off every day. It was sort of my nightcap, a way to rinse away all the pleasures of the day. She told me I should feel good for being so open and honest with her, and I did. I really did. My heart lifted in my chest and I felt a happy little tingle roll over me like a wave slipping up the beach, staining the sand dark as it stretched and receded.
When she spoke, it was like her voice came from far away and inside me all at the same time. It was a disorienting feeling, but I liked it. And when she told me how good I was at trancing for her, it brought that happy feeling again, that happy wave sliding up my body and lingering before it withdrew.
She told me that I dodn't have to pay attention, so long as I agreed and did what she asked. That was easy. I wish every job was as easy as 'do nothing,' but I managed to do the nothing she asked. She told me to hear her words, but not to focus on them, and it wa shard at first. I would answer when she asked a question and she would ask me to go deeper and deeper, and I did.
Going deeper was a lot like sinking, falling into a warm and deep black. It wrapped around me like a blanket. Finally, I found her words coming, going straight at the center of me, but I didn't have to respond or react. I was an observer to my own mind, and Dr. Collins's questions flowed right past me. Whips of light, like passing the sodium lamps on the highway at night. Bright streaks that exist for an instant and are gone.
“And one,” she said.
My eyes popped open. She was staring at me, her eyes dark and shining.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Great,” I answered. It was true. One of the best parts of hypnotherapy is feeling like you've had the most restful nap in the world when it's done. “I really zonked out there,” I chuckled, “I don't remember anything after the bottom of the stairs.”
“You did very well,” she said. “You've come a very long way. I think you'll find that these next sessions will be very helpful. Unfortunately, the time is up. See Natalie for the next appointment.”
“I will,” I promised.
“Good boy,” she said.
That wave again, happy and warm, washing over me and receding. I left the office with a smile, and not just because I could flirt with Natalie again, who was adorable. I'd made Dr. Collins happy, and that made me happy, too.
Rachel
She had him. Whether Michael was naturally submissive or not no longer concerned her. She had surrendered his will to hers, and his mind was now her playground. After taking him into proper trance, she prodded at his resistance and found that he had no will to resist her, but neither did he know how to allow her power over him to manifest. So, she taught him.
There was always the same caveat with hypnosis: you cannot make someone do what they do not want to do. But you can create an environment in which what the subjects wants to do and the behavior one wants to see in that subject become one and the same. That meant baby steps. A little nudge here and a poke there, and Michael would eventually be the perfect subject.
Already, he accepted her directions to trust her. So much so that she could bypass his conscious mind completely. She spoke directly into Michael's subconscious and bypassed the resistance. That did not mean a trigger left behind would work without question. If his behavior was too bizarre and uncharacteristic, the whole thing would fall apart. Baby steps.
For now, she left behind only the most innocuous of instructions. One, he would feel physical pleasure when he pleased Rachel. Two, he would feel that same pleasure more intensely when she called him a 'good boy.' The final one was also simple, but it would prove that he was ready to carry out some real-world tasks on the heels of her suggestions. If that held, the real work could begin.
The first fissures in Michael's will had turned her on, and she called for Natalie again. This time, Rachel had her bend over the desk and expose her peach of an ass, spreading them wide for her Mistress. Natalie grunted when Rachel eased her lubricated cock into Natalie's clenched hole. She was deliciously tight. Rachel took her by the hips, well-manicured nails pressing red crescents into her fleshy sides, and thrusted. At first slow, but faster and more urgently as the climax rose inside her.
Rachel imagined it was Michael, but not the weak-willed, lonely boy who left the office moments before, but the one he would become. The sissy slut that would rival Natalie in beauty and obedience. She imagined Michael surendering the last of himself to her, abandoning any desires of his own besides those Rachel instilled in him. Her grip grew tighter and Natalie cried out.
The sound of her secretary's whimpering hurled Rachel past the point of control. Rachel squirted inside the sissy, her cum painting the interior of Natalie's ass before she withdrew with a slick plop.
“Clean,” Rachel commanded.
The leaking slut turned to face her Mistress and fell to her knees, worshiping and cleaning the shrinking phallus before lapping up the semen that dripped onto the floor.
“Good girl,” Rachel said, easing up the bottoms of the pantsuit.
Natalie shivered, her response to those two words nearly orgasmic in its power. Soon, Michael would know what that was like, too.
Session 8
Michael
I still couldn't call her Rachel. It wasn't because I didn't feel close to her, oh no. We'd been doing a session every other week for four months now, and I trusted her as much or more than anyone else in my life. That presumes that there was anyone else in my life, which was laughable. I was still going through the paces of work, and doing as good a job as I'd ever done. But it was Dr. Collins I thought of. I was developing a crush on my therapist and that was probably a bad thing, right? I kept meaning to bring it up in our last session, but then she started the trance and I disappeared for a while again. By the time I woke up, the session was almost over and I felt so damn good, there didn't seem much point in ruining it by bringing up the uncomfortable subject of my inappropriate feelings about her.
Not to bury the lead, but the therapy was working, too. I might have an unhealthy focus on Dr. Collins, but I was happy for once. After one of the last sessions, I was consumed by the urge to shave off my fuzzy goatee and return to her with my face smooth and clean. The next time I saw her, she was overflowing with praise at my new look and came around the desk to touch my cheeks, running her long, elegant fingers over my cheeks and chin, holding my face in her hands like a child.
I was obsessive about it, even. By the eight session, I was shaving twice a day sometimes, eager to keep myself baby-smooth from the neck up to get more of that necessary praise. She called me a good boy again, and the sound of those words made me twist and squirm and blush. Was I falling in love with her? I found myself wondering. I never bothered to answer the question. I knew. And disrupting the sessions I looked so forward to didn't seem like the right path toward feeling better.
When Dr. Collins began the induction, I slipped easily, sinking under the waves of that happy and dopey feeling, letting my brain detach from my body while she spoke to the deepest parts of me. The parts of me I was beginning to suspect belonged to her, even if I could never tell her.
Rachel
He was wonderfully pathetic, as most men were. Men loved to put on a brave face, to pretend that they were made of steel. But the foundations of masculinity were weak. Most male personae were propped up by notions of strength and aggression and, of course, heterosexuality. If one began to chip away at those supports, the fundamental identification as 'male' was easy to question.
Rachel was pleased to find Michael smooth-faced and eager to please her. When she complimented how hairless his face was, his cheeks burned bright and his gaze fell bashfully away.
