Just Chatting
A true story by Jerr Tameth
* * *We were just chatting about hypnosis.
Okay, there’s no such thing as JUST chatting… Not when you’re talking about your desires and kinks with a cute girl. A cute girl on the internet. We met in the hypnokink forums and hit it off immediately. That’s right—a cute KINKY girl who was into hypnosis!
It’s not like we were going to hypnotize each other—we were just chatting. I mean, the internet is a scary place, right? You don’t want to let strangers hypnotize you. I’ve listened to various hypnosis session files online, and have found quite a few that were bad. I don’t mean low quality, I mean ‘predatory’ bad. There are files that try to get you into trance and then tell you to contact the author while you’re still under, letting them say things to you that weren’t in the file you’d agreed to. There are files that tell you that you can’t wear underwear any more and then make you tell a stranger which trigger word will make you strip. There are files which tell you to masturbate in front of your friends.
Files like these are out there. I’ve seen them.
Bad.
Like I said, the internet can be a scary place. So when I met a girl who was interested in hypnosis, I was not ready to just dive into trance for her (despite my libido saying “please, now, yes!"), and she wasn’t about to suggest it. We both knew enough about the world to be cautious and responsible about it. Besides, hypnosis is… personal. Especially when you feel kinky about it. Instead we both just chatted and became friends. Even though we met through a kink group, our discussions were fairly “safe for work” for the most part. We talked about hypnosis, not specifically hypnokink.
I’ve found that there are two schools of thought in the hypnokink community. One group likes erotic hypnosis for all the kinky things you can do with it—like bondage, but for the mind. The other group finds it erotic for no apparent reason. For them, watching someone forget the number seven is hot. Any hypnosis is hot, just for what it is.
Other kinks seem to be the same way. Some people like jute rope because you can use it to tie up and tease your lover. Others get hot and bothered just catching a glimpse of the coiled bundles in the hardware aisle at the store.
Apparently we were both kinky in the second way. So even though we kept it clean, there were undertones to our conversations that made my heart beat faster.
I had some online experience with hypnosis and just a touch of in-person experience. She had lots of in-person hypnosis experience—stuff that blew my mind. This was more than I realized was even possible with hypnosis outside of fiction. It’s real. It’s real, and that’s hot.
Nevertheless, we just chatted and enjoyed each other’s company, getting to know how we felt, and agreeing that we might hypnotize each other someday… if the time was right.
Who knows…
Someday.
One day she told me about some of the things that had been used to put her under in the past. She showed me some image files… like a picture of a pocket watch, for example. We were just chatting—texting—but I imagined watching her going under for a pocket watch, her expression changing as all her muscles relaxed. Her mind going deliciously blank…
Suddenly, I found myself drifting... My arms tingled and I felt heavier. Heavier and floating? The world around me felt just a bit smaller, and the words on the screen… somehow felt a bit more important. I had fallen into a light trance. No… it was a fair bit deeper than that. I was in, and I was suggestible. It felt wonderful.
Seizing the opportunity, I texted back that this might be a good time for her to give me a drop-trigger for future use—something she could use to get me started into trance without a long induction. I was deep enough that assigning a trigger to me would probably work pretty well. That way, when she wanted to hypnotize me someday, we’d have a head start.
I don’t know what I thought would happen (unless I really did). Maybe it’s what I really wanted to happen. I should have known that I’d drop like a stone when she said the words. Of course I would. I was already there and my mind was ready to go. We had reached a level of trust that any reservations about giving myself to a stranger simply didn’t apply any more.
So she agreed, and typed out what she thought my trigger should be. She pressed enter.
Even though I’d never heard them said before or seen them typed before, I knew what those words meant the moment I saw them appear on the screen. My mind knew to drop. And I did. Deep and hard. Immediately.
Over text.
She typed the words and I was racing down an endless well as the world around me shattered and collapsed down to a single point.
It felt amazing.
I told her just how amazing I was feeling. We talked about it, and instead of waking me up again, we decided to run with it. She asked me if it was okay for her to use my trigger again.
I typed back, “please.”
She talked me deeper into trance… then deeper still. She reinforced the trigger she had chosen by waking me up slightly and then using it once more. Then she told me again what it was going to do—what effect it would have on me whenever she used it… Then we were doing it again. Somewhat awake… trigger… down… It worked better each time. Easily dropping faster and deeper and harder into trance each time. After a while, it wasn’t up to me any more—my choices had been taken from me, and that was just what I wanted. Every time I read those words, I was immediately dropped deep into trance whether I liked it or not.
I liked it. I liked it a lot.
A whole lot. No surprise there.
What surprised me was that we were communicating through it all. Somehow I was able to type despite floating so very far away. I told her that it felt strange to feel this kind of deep trance while my eyes were open and I was typing messages to her. Every time I’d felt anything like this in the past, I’d had my eyes closed and headphones on, listening to a downloaded file and trying desperately to stay in trance… but never this deep.
Then she took me even deeper… somehow. I went. Easily.
Then she called me a good boy.
She… called me…
a good boy! That’s right! Oh, it felt nice!
No. It was better than nice.
Reading those words on the screen sent a tingle of joy, excitement, and pleasure from my head to my toes. She hadn’t prepared me for this. She hadn’t told me those words would have that effect. But, I knew why she’d said it. I knew that praise was supposed to feel good. And boy did it ever.
I told her how it felt.
She said it again.
Yikes. That felt even better than the first time! Waves of giddy and almost sexual pleasure shook tingling goosebumps through my arms and legs radiating out from my core… just from reading those words on the screen—just because she was praising me.
She said it again and… just wow. That feeling was electric and definitely sexual… or no, not exactly… Definitely GOOD. Good in an indescribable sort of way.
And that’s the problem. So much of what I felt was indescribable. So of course people like me try (and fail) to describe it. I’ll do my best, but I know that the end result won’t be right, because the words don’t exist. Or they do exist, but not in the right intensity or meaning. Let me explain:
I’ve been hypnotized before by a partner who didn’t really know a lot about hypnosis, and I’ve listened to plenty of audio files. I’ve seen my fair share of spinning spiral gifs… but this felt different. This was a connection to a person who very much wanted to control me this way. And I wanted that too. That made everything more intense.
For example, they say that hypnosis feels relaxing. It is.
No—more than that. Much more.
I thought I understood what “relaxed” meant. I’ve lived my whole life believing that I understood the meaning of the word “relaxed.” This experience was something different. We need a new word. This was “relaxing” like resting in the shallows of a warm gentle ocean as the waves lap around you peacefully… but there’s no water, it’s just relaxation made palpable. It’s not that the water is relaxing, that’s just part of what real relaxation can feel like (to me). And that still doesn’t come close. I can’t describe it in words.
It’s… Real. Very real.
“How do you feel?,” she asked me.
“Great… Calm… Happy… Really horny… Really REALLY horny.”
It sort of occurred to me that I was sharing some private information there. I’m not normally one to talk about my sex life. This wasn’t a work of fiction posted anonymously on a story site —— this was someone who knew me. This was a friend, and you don’t casually mention to your friends that you’re horny.
I shouldn’t have been too surprised. I knew that hypnosis can lower your inhibitions. In a very distant way, I realized that I was experiencing this phenomenon first hand. It just made sense to say it at the time.
The only reason you don’t tell your friends how horny you are is because of social conventions. I was well beyond that by then. Society didn’t matter. It was just me and someone I trust. Why shouldn’t I open up and bare my sole? I suppose I knew somewhere that it was already a sexual thing for both of us. We both knew that we were turned on by hypnosis, so it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to her.
If she was surprised, she never let on. She told me that it was okay to be horny. It was okay to feel however I wanted to feel. That was nice. She had accepted me. She knew that I was only telling her these things because I really didn’t have the filter to be able to keep that sort of thing to myself anymore. She had taken that ability from me. I had given it to her.
Of course, realizing that I had lost control of my ability to filter what I said turned me on even more..
We moved on.
She told me that I was a good subject. I was glad. She told me to type that back to her. I did.
I am a good subject
I am a good subject
I am a good subject
It was true.
I am a good subject
…Maybe it was true simply because she had told me that it was true… and I had agreed. Maybe it had always been true—but the reason didn’t matter. I am a good subject. She said it and I agreed.
I agreed to everything she said to me. She told me how wonderful hypnosis is, and so now I feel like I’m the bearer of a secret knowledge. I’ve learned the truth. Hypnosis is not just wonderful… it’s so much more than that. I want to tell the world and shout it from the mountaintops! The secrets of the universe are all right here inside you! All the meaning, purpose, connection, and everything that humanity needs is right there in your mind. The answer is recreational hypnosis.
Hypnokink changed me. I’ve been reborn. I see the light. I see what’s possible, and it’s more than I ever imagined. The world needs this, and we need it now more than ever!
But the world isn’t ready for it. I can’t tell my friends, family, and coworkers about it. Society isn’t ready for me to approach random strangers on the street and rant like a madman about erotic hypnosis.
So I’m forever trapped like the mythological tale of Cassandra—knowing the answers, but unable to save anyone.
As our hypnosis session was winding down, she asked me if there was anything I needed to do after the trance before going to bed.
Well, given how turned on I was by all of this, the answer was pretty obvious to me. I was going to masturbate, of course. Who wouldn’t?
So I told her my plans. It was the truthful answer, and she had asked—what else would I have said?
She took this in stride. By this point she knew that I was just babbling everything as it crossed my mind without the ability to do otherwise. She let me know that there was nothing wrong with that plan if that’s what I wanted to do.
Part of me knew how outrageous it was for me to say these things. But I was fully aware that I was saying them, and I knew that it was okay. I want to tell you that I was embarrassed, but I wasn’t—maybe just a bit surprised to watch myself type out the words and hit send as I sat in the back seat of my mind.
Other than sharing exactly what I was going to do, and admitting how turned on all of this had me, there was nothing overtly sexual about the session. She didn’t tell me to strip, pose, or touch myself on her command. She didn’t make me forget how underwear works. She didn’t create triggers to make me aroused or frozen in place. She didn’t try to make me cum on command.
The hypnosis content wasn’t sexual—the situation was. I was hypnotized. I was sharing my mind with someone. I had offered the essence of ME to someone. They took it, took care of it, and eventually gave it back to me. Like a bondage scene, I was bound and helpless… in my body and in my mind. It wasn’t about the sex—it was about the rope.
That hypnosis session wasn’t otherwise sexual. And yet it was—I had told her my plans.
And after she woke me up and we eventually signed off, I did.
* * *