The Hypnotic Orbs

<% s.linksPre = [ { label: 'Prologue', passageName: 'Prologue' }, { label: 'Chapter I: Experimentation', passageName: 'Chapter01' }, { label: 'Chapter II: Exploration, Part 1', passageName: 'Chapter02' }, { label: 'Chapter II: Exploration, Part 2', passageName: 'Chapter03' }, { label: 'Chapter IV: Orientation Day', passageName: 'Chapter04' } ]; %> # Prologue In the bustling metropolis of Wild Heights, where skyscrapers tower over the city and technology hums in the air, there lived a woman named Jessica. At the age of 25 and standing at a modest height of 5'4", she had short red hair that framed her face and piercing blue eyes. Recently, she had started working at a large tech company called Veritas Tech Solutions. With a four-year degree in business, she began her career in the sales department. While working at this company, she gained a strong understanding of technology, particularly computers and smartphones, although she did not consider herself an expert by any means. One day, on her way into the office, Jessica encountered a peculiar electrical display. Sparks flew in all directions, painting the air with streaks of unconventional colors—a spectrum that defied the typical palette of blues and whites associated with electricity. Around her, the city of Wild Heights continued its rhythm of morning bustle, unphased by the anomaly. The air thrummed with activity: cars honked in the distance, footsteps echoed on concrete, and the scent of aromatic coffee from nearby cafes flirted with her senses. Jessica had disembarked from an underground subway that delivered her to within a quarter mile of Veritas Tech Solutions. Approaching street level, she found herself facing an abandoned building nestled between two modern office towers. Its façade bore silent witness to better days, windows boarded up and graffiti sprawling across its grimy walls like veins. It was here that she observed the erratic dance of sparks. Compelled by curiosity, Jessica navigated towards the dilapidated structure. She maneuvered through a scattering of litter—a plastic bag rustled as it snagged on a fence post—and approached the building's entrance. Dampness clung to aged stone as she grazed worn bricks with her fingertips. When Jessica laid her hand upon the door's cold metal surface, an unexpected surge of energy leaped at her touch. Currents coiled around her palm before darting up her arm in zigzag paths of searing warmth. She recoiled, inhaling sharply as the mysterious energy cascaded into her chest, flooding it with an indescribable warmth that ebbed at the periphery of pain. Inside her chest, warmth swirled and unfurled like a ribbon in a gentle breeze; an alien sensation that was neither entirely discomforting nor soothing—merely present and penetrating. Jessica clutched at her blouse, fingers pressing through fabric to skin as if to grasp this intangible force that had settled inside her. Jessica slumped against the weathered door, her breath coming out in short gasps as she navigated the sudden influx of warmth that now inhabited her chest. The energy within seemed to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat, a drumbeat of foreign cadence that thrummed against her ribcage. Alarmed yet transfixed by this new presence within her body, she pressed a hand to her sternum, feeling the throb beneath her skin. As minutes trickled past, Jessica found the strength to peel herself from the building's embrace. She straightened, her eyes scanning the vicinity for onlookers who might've witnessed her ordeal. The city moved on, indifferent—the pedestrians wrapped up in their own worlds, shuffling along with their minds tethered to devices that buzzed and blinked with notifications. Her workday loomed ahead; she could not afford to be late. With a shaky resolve, Jessica resumed her journey to Veritas Tech Solutions, each step a concerted effort as she willed herself to blend into the flow of city life. The strange warmth remained a hidden passenger within her, radiating a peculiar heat that seemed localized around her chest. By the time she arrived at work, crossing through the sliding glass doors of the high-rise that housed her office space, Jessica sensed a shift in how the energy stirred. It now seemed to pool behind the fabric of her blouse—her breasts becoming a nexus of this enigmatic force. Colleagues passed by with morning greetings and absentminded smiles but paid no extra attention to Jessica's state—a mercy she was grateful for. However, as she settled into her cubicle and powered up her computer, Jessica noticed something astonishing: a soft luminescence began to seep through her clothing. Her heart hitched at this revelation—it was as if some bio-luminescent creature had taken up residence within her chest. The day's labor crawled to an end, the serene glow beneath Jessica's blouse ebbing and flowing with her every movement yet concealed from the world. She clocked out, the weight of exhaustion in her limbs a stark contrast to the peculiar verve that suffused her chest. The streets welcomed her with their twilight embrace as she made her way back to the apartment she shared with Connie and Alice. Upon entering the apartment, Jessica was greeted by a cozy stillness. Only Connie's shoes by the door hinted at another presence. Alice's absence was marked by the uncluttered state of the living room; her adventures for the evening had already spirited her away. Jessica retreated to her bedroom, a private haven where she could explore this new, unexplained part of herself. She peeled off her work clothes, folding them neatly atop her dresser. Clad in only her jeans, she stood before her full-length mirror, examining the soft glow that now painted her skin in ghostly light. But as she did, she suddenly felt light-headed and instinctively turned around when she heard the door. The door cracked open—a slither of light from the hallway broke into the dim sanctum of Jessica's room, followed by Connie's unsuspecting figure. Connie blinked, and for a moment there was no sound but each other's breathing—the air heavy as if charged with static. Her mouth fell ajar slightly, eyes locked onto Jessica's glowing chest. "Jess? Are you...?" Connie trailed off, her words dissolving into silence as if absorbed by the light emanating from Jessica. Jessica clasped her arms across her chest reflexively. "Am I what?" she probed, voice steady despite the roiling confusion within. "What are you staring at?" But Connie did not tear away her gaze; it hovered over Jessica's bare skin, entranced. "Sorry," she stammered after a stretch of quiet where only heartbeats spoke. "It's just... I feel so relaxed and fuzzy..." Her words tumbled out sluggish and thick as if wading through honey. In the silence that cocooned them, Jessica's mind raced, stitching together the day's strange occurrences into a coherent tapestry. The pulsating heat, the bio-luminescent glow, and now Connie's mesmerized state—electricity coursed through her veins as she realized her own body could be the catalyst. The suspicion that her breasts harbored some hypnotic sway solidified in her thoughts. Her heartbeat was a staccato rhythm against the backdrop of Connie's spellbound stillness. Jessica felt a coil of nervousness entwined with the intrigue that flickered to life within her. Stepping closer, she searched Connie's face for any signs of distress. Finding none, she let a breath escape her lips—a featherweight sigh that seemed to stir the charged air. "I want you to remember this feeling," Jessica spoke with an earnest clarity, her gaze locked with Connie's. "Remember the warmth, the peace it gives you." She took another step forward, a newfound boldness lacing her words. "And when I say 'go deeper now Connie,' I want you to recall this exact sensation and return to this state." Connie bobbed her head, a small nod conveying understanding without breaking the trance-like rapport between them. Jessica reached out tentatively and placed a hand on Connie's shoulder. With gentle firmness, she instructed, "Now turn around, leave my room, and watch some TV." To Jessica's astonishment, Connie pivoted smoothly and departed, obedience etched in every motion yet devoid of any inkling of their peculiar exchange. The door clicked shut behind her. Alone once again amid the soft glow that clung to her skin like morning dew on blades of grass, Jessica allowed herself one lingering moment to absorb the reality of wielding such an enigmatic power before she shook off the vestiges of disbelief. She selected a comfortable t-shirt from the dresser—a shield against further unexpected encounters—and slipped it over her head. The fabric muted the ethereal light that had bathed her skin only moments ago. With measured movements, she drew on a sweater to conceal and protect herself against both the evening chill and prying eyes. Her fingers trembled faintly as they brushed through her hair while thoughts whirled like leaves caught in an autumn wind—questions without answers swirling around the heart of this mystery enveloped within her. Did that really just happen? [[It did. And we're going to test these powers.->Chapter01]]

# Chapter I: Experimentation Jessica observed Connie, engrossed in the television glow, her eyes glazed with an odd complacency. A twinge of guilt gnawed at Jessica for having inadvertently subjected her to such a peculiar state. Nevertheless, she found herself lured by curiosity, compelled to test the depth of Connie's susceptibility. She cleared her throat softly, allowing the words of the trigger phrase to hang momentarily on her lips before slipping into the room like a secret whispered between confidants. "Go deeper now, Connie." Connie's posture slackened further, head lolling slightly to one side as if she had just slipped into a deeper part of her psyche at the sound of Jessica's voice. Jessica drew nearer, scrutinizing Connie's expression for any sign of awareness or resistance. Yet her roommate remained as still and serene as a statue, affixed to the fabric of the couch with no intention of moving. To confirm the depth of influence, Jessica instructed gently, "Connie, can you hear me?" Without shifting her gaze from the screen, Connie nodded, a ghost of a movement but an acknowledgement nonetheless. Jessica chewed on her lower lip, contemplating her next words with care. "Okay," she began, maintaining an even tone. "Can you pick up the remote and mute the television?" The remote rested on Connie's lap, and with a fluid motion that seemed more reflex than conscious act, she complied, pressing the button. The room fell into silence, save for the soft hum of electronic devices and distant city sounds filtering through the apartment's thin walls. The air in the apartment hung heavy with a hushed tension, a tangible thread spun from Jessica's fear and expectancy. She studied Connie's impassive face, seeking any flicker of consciousness that might betray her cognizance of the situation. The stillness of her roommate was unnerving, a perfect porcelain mask that offered no cracks through which to glimpse her true state of mind. Compelled by the urgency to reinforce her command without raising suspicion, Jessica reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers grazing the fabric with deliberation. She pulled the material upward, over her head, revealing the smooth skin and curves beneath. Her chest bare to the cool air of the room, she watched for any sign in Connie's demeanor that might suggest she perceived more than what met the eye. Connie remained motionless on the couch, her eyes locked onto where the television screen had been alive with scenes just moments ago. Yet as Jessica repeated the phrase "Go deeper now, Connie," there was an almost imperceptible shift. Connie's breathing deepened, each inhale synchronizing with Jessica's words as if they were a lifeline pulling her further into an unfathomable abyss. Jessica continued, assuring steadiness in her voice despite the flutter in her heart. "Only when I say these words will you slip into this state," she guided, weaving specificity into the command to secure its potency and exclusivity to her voice alone. She observed Connie for a moment longer, ensuring that this new directive took hold before preparing to erase traces of tonight's uncertainties. "When you wake up," Jessica said softly, "you'll remember nothing about this moment or my breasts." Her gaze lingered on Connie's placid expression. "Instead, imagine laughter and familiar scenes from your beloved reruns filling your evening until you felt tired." The warmth of reassurance crept into Jessica's tone as she bestowed one final instruction upon her roommate, like a comforting blanket meant to shield against residual echoes of what had transpired. "Once I leave," Jessica whispered as though imparting a gentle secret only moonlight could hold, "go to your bed and sleep." Satisfied she had woven an intricate veil over the evening's events in Connie's mind, Jessica quietly moved away from her roommate who seemed anchored in tranquility. She retrieved her shirt from where it lay discarded on the floor and dressed once more amidst the tangible presence of silence and anticipation that draped over them both like twilight shadows stretching across an empty land. Connie adhered to the planted suggestion with a somnambulist's grace, rising from the couch. Her movements bore the fluidity of water slipping through the cracks of a dam, each step measured and deliberate as she departed from the room. The soft padding of her feet against the carpet faded like a distant echo as she retreated into her chamber, leaving Jessica alone with thoughts swirling like leaves in an autumn breeze. Jessica navigated through her inner maze of curiosity and trepidation, making her way to her own sanctuary. With careful movements, she opened her laptop and initiated an incognito window, the screen casting a pallid glow on her concentrated visage. Fingers danced across the keys, ushering in the protection of NordVPN to shroud her digital footprints in layers of anonymity. She plunged into the depths of the internet, casting her net wide in search of elusive knowledge about mind control. When Jessica typed in the keywords, she was inundated with search results about technology: man-made inventions and scientifically backed research. She clicked through various articles on neurotechnology and manipulating brainwave patterns, but none mentioned anything about innate abilities like her own. Was it truly possible to control someone's mind? Recent progress suggested that it was, but not with just one's body. However, Jessica had just effortlessly proven that this feat was indeed possible. As she clicked from one page to another, sifting through scholarly discourses and speculative threads alike, Jessica found herself at an impasse. The phenomena that had bloomed within her remained undocumented, uncharted territory that whispered secrets not yet understood by mankind. Amid this fruitless quest, a noise sprang forth from the living room—a sound so stark against the silence it pricked Jessica's skin with goosebumps. A jolt coursed through her nerves as if electricity had leapt from device to user. Her heart thrummed against ribcage walls, adrenaline coaxing it into a relentless rhythm. Paranoid thoughts twisted in her mind — had Connie surfaced from the depths too soon and realized what was going on? Or worse, had someone broken into their apartment? Rising from her chair with care not to make a sound more than needed, Jessica closed her laptop with a soft snap. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tiptoed toward the doorway, eyes wide and senses sharpened by the prickling fear that clung to every crevice of her anxious heart. Pressed against the door's cool surface, Jessica held her breath, straining to catch any whisper of movement. Her heart felt like a trapped animal, thudding against her chest in a desperate rhythm. Eyes narrowed to slits, she peered into the darkness of the living room. The quiet was unsettling, a thick blanket woven from the threads of night and fear. Stepping out from her hiding spot, she moved with calculated precision, almost like a shadow. She scanned the room quickly, recognizing objects that were familiar and posed no threat. The couch lay barren, bathed in the muted glow from streetlights filtering through partially closed blinds. A magazine lay open on the coffee table as if it had frozen mid-flip. Connie's phone rested there too — its screen dark and inscrutable. Jessica caught her breath; nothing appeared to have been disturbed. She cast a glance toward Connie's closed door, wondering if her roommate could have made the sound in her sleep. Padding across the carpet, Jessica pushed open Connie's door with a gentle nudge. The moon painted silver streaks across Connie's form, curled under sheets that rose and fell with each serene inhale. Relief washed over Jessica as she backed away, turning her attention to the rest of their shared space. The kitchen stood quiet and untouched; cutlery lay still in its drawer and cups hung immobile on their hooks. The bathroom door stood ajar revealing only empty space and tiles that reflected the night's quiet chill. As she passed through the vacant rooms, her body tensed with increasing pressure until she felt like a tightly coiled spring, ready to break at any moment. Carefully, Jessica approached the living room again, eyes casting about for any potential threat that might lurk in plain sight. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached into her work bag and drew out a pencil — long and yellow with a fine point honed sharp enough to transcribe fears into words on paper. Upon learning about the potential ability of technology to manipulate people's minds, she couldn't help but feel a bit paranoid. She extended the pencil toward the remote control like an explorer wielding a torch into unknown caverns. Her hand hovered for a moment before depressing the power button. The television flickered off obediently with a soft click — and then that same sound pierced the silence once more. Jessica's heart raced as the familiar sound echoed through the room, causing her to jump and spin around. She couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as she noticed Connie's phone lighting up again, revealing a notification in its eerie glow. The fleeting moments of light seemed to match the frantic rhythm of her pulse, until darkness once again consumed the space and the phone fell silent. Jessica couldn't shake off the feeling that something was not quite right, but she couldn't bring herself to investigate further just yet. Gripping the pencil between her fingers like a makeshift tool, Jessica reached toward Connie's ominously silent phone. The dimness of the room stretched around her, swallowing sounds and making simple tasks feel like monumental endeavors. She poked at the power button with the eraser end, but the device stubbornly refused to respond to the soft pressure. Her grip shifted, and she tried again with the sharpened tip, inadvertently scratching the phone's sleek surface without any effect. With each futile attempt, frustration bubbled up inside her chest like boiling water threatening to spill over. Jessica withdrew the pencil with an irritated sigh and rubbed her temples, where a headache had begun to plant its tender roots. She drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the stagnant air of the apartment as she urged herself to dispel the irrational vigilance that had commandeered her senses. "It's probably nothing," she whispered into the quiet of the room, her words a frail raft amidst a sea of anxiety. Jessica extended her hand, hesitating for only a heartbeat before letting her skin meet the cool metal of Connie's phone. She pressed down on the power button with the pad of her thumb, feeling its slight give beneath her touch. The screen bloomed to life, banishing shadows from its immediate vicinity as it illuminated Jessica's tense features. A notification stared back at her — a text message from Sam displayed onscreen in a stark bubble of digital conversation. The words confirmed that he was outside their building, patiently waiting as per plans Jessica herself had disrupted earlier that evening by cajoling Connie into an early night. A rush of self-reproach washed over Jessica as she read and reread the simple message. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Laughter almost rose within her at the absurdity of it all; here she was jumping at shadows even though she was the only mind-controller she had ever encountered. She shook her head at herself, placing Connie's phone back on the coffee table with newfound gentleness. Her previous searches about technology's dark potential had wound her tightly in knots of suspicion when all along it was an ordinary social call that stirred in the night. Perhaps it was time for Jessica to unplug for a while and trust in simplicity once more. Jessica silently entered Connie's room and walked towards her bed. She leaned in close and gently shook Connie. "Wake up, Connie. Sam is waiting for you outside," Jessica whispered. Connie let out a small moan and pulled the covers tighter around her, her voice muffled. "What does Sam want? I was trying to sleep," Connie murmured, annoyance curling her words as she surfaced from the depths of dreams. Despite her reluctance, she emerged from the cocoon of blankets like a butterfly reluctant to leave its chrysalis. Connie meandered into the living room and started looking for her phone. Confusion furrowed her brow until her searching hands encountered the cool metal of her phone on the coffee table. She scooped it up and collapsed onto the sofa, fingers dancing across the screen as she began to message Sam. While Jessica lingered in the doorway, her heart thrummed within her chest like a bird trapped in a room too small for its wingspan. Unable to resist, she hovered nearby, drawn to the unfolding drama as Connie's fingers flew faster, punctuating the silence with every tap. As if stung by a wasp of sudden understanding, Connie stood and strode back to her room with haste, bringing her phone along as if it were a talisman capable of warding off discord. Jessica gnawed at her lip, contemplating whether she had inadvertently sown seeds of conflict between two people she cared about. With an effort that felt akin to dragging weights through viscous molasses, Jessica forced herself to retreat from the escalating tension. "I can fix this," she reassured herself with fractured conviction. Her newfound ability whispered promises in the back of her mind—yet untamed and enigmatic. In search of reflection and clarity, Jessica entered the bathroom and confronted the cupboard mirror. She angled herself away, denying its silver-backed gaze as she retrieved a smaller hand mirror that promised a more intimate scrutiny. Clutching it tightly against her chest like a shield from unseen adversaries, she returned to her sanctuary. Ensuring privacy by wedging a chair beneath her bedroom doorknob—a barricade symbolic of her need for solitude—Jessica released sighs deep enough to stir dormant dust motes into lazy sunlit spirals. Jessica removed her shirt and took out her phone. She quickly captured a photo of her bare chest and, after a moment of hesitation, looked at the image. Staring intently at the photograph displayed on screen, Jessica detected subtle shifts in hue—a pale luminescence as if each cell were infused with faint light. The differences were minuscule; yet upon closer inspection revealed themselves like whispers among shouts—a discoloration invisible except to those who knew every nuance of her own flesh. Puzzled by this peculiar phenomenon yet undeterred in resolve, Jessica continued to peer at it, searching for understanding within pixels and shades that held secrets only time would unveil. Resolved to delve deeper into the mystery of her power, Jessica positioned the hand mirror to reflect her chest and gazed into its surface. Her pulse echoed softly in her ears as she locked eyes with her own image, the familiar contours refracted through glass. The room around Jessica dimmed as if smothered by a thick, woolen blanket, and her body felt distant, like a ship receding from shore. Resistance fluttered in the fringes of her consciousness, a moth battering against an invisible window pane. She tried to grasp onto that elusive sensation, to anchor herself against the pull. But the current was too strong. A wave of euphoria engulfed her, soothing her thoughts into silence. It wrapped around her mind with tendrils of serene pleasure—a seductive lullaby coaxing her towards surrender. Her defenses crumbled like sandcastles before the tide; obedience became a velvet shroud that muffled her will. Jessica floated in a haze of blissful amnesia, adrift on currents of tranquil energy. Her own commands held no sway here; memory dissolved like sugar in water. In this realm where she was a leaf on the wind, there was nothing but the sweet embrace of oblivion. An innocent clatter from below shattered the silence and banished rapture's veil. Eyes darted to the source—a silver glint against the wooden floor—where the hand mirror lay abandoned. Another reflection caught her gaze, beckoning with that same intoxicating warmth, an echo of paradise lost. This time it was different; though tendrils reached for her once more, they were gossamer threads compared to their former might. She concentrated with all her might, summoning every ounce of focus within her to sever them. Eyelids clenched shut and head tilted skyward towards sanctuary above, Jessica commanded herself to look away. The ceiling stared back—an expanse of painted plaster void of enchantment—and gradually the energy waned until it vanished like mist in morning sun. Breathlessly aware of how narrowly she had skirted disaster's edge, she hastily donned her shirt once more—a protective layer between her skin and her irresistible power. The sun began to set, casting long shadows across Jessica's bedroom floor. She sat on her bed, wrapped in a blanket of contemplation. Her breasts was now tucked away safely, its overwhelming power momentarily contained. Yet, the impression of its hypnotic pull lingered like an echo in her mind. As Jessica lay down, her thoughts swirled around the question that had surfaced during her exploration - Was she the only one with this power? It seemed impossible, yet she couldn't shake off the feeling of uniqueness. Her heart ached with curiosity and the longing to connect with someone who might understand. Gradually, her eyelids grew heavy, and the room blurred around the edges. Darkness crept in from the corners, swallowing up the last vestiges of daylight. As she surrendered to sleep, she made a silent plea to the universe: "Please let me be safe." [[She wasn't.->Chapter02]]

> This story contains age-restricted materials such as explicit depictions of sexual activity and sexual imagery. **By continuing, you affirm that you are at least 18 years of age or the age of majority in the jurisdiction you are accessing this story from and you consent to viewing sexually explicit content.** > > Additionally, this story involves hypnokink which can easily incorporate sexually or mentally manipulative scenes. **By continuing, you also acknowledge that ultimately you have control of your own mind and are knowledgeable enough on Risk Aware Consensual Kink to proceed with _informed and explicit_ consent.** [[I have read the above disclaimer and affirm that I am 18 or older, and you have my explicit consent.->Prologue]]

# Chapter II: Exploration, Part 1 The first golden fingers of daylight caressed Jessica's eyelids, prompting them to flutter open. She lay motionless for a moment, cocooned in the warmth of her bed, feeling the soft fabric of her sheets. A night free from restless tossing had left her surprisingly refreshed. With a stretch that rolled through her muscles like a gentle wave, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and embraced the day. Her journey to work rolled out as routinely as the days before: the same occasional nod to familiar faces in passing, the same blend of buzzes and beeps from office machines, and the same scent of stale coffee lingering in the break room. Even as she typed away at her desk, her mind couldn't help but wander back to the peculiar events at that decrepit building. The clock hands crawled until finally, freedom from work granted her time to explore. The abandoned building towered above her as she approached. Its weathered walls were covered in graffiti and broken windows gaped like hungry mouths. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, her footsteps echoing off the concrete floors. The air was musty and stale, and she could hear rats skittering in the distance. As she explored the empty rooms, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. There were no signs of life here, not even the faint hum of electricity or the sound of machinery that once filled these halls. It was as if time had stopped within these forsaken walls. Jessica cautiously made her way through the desolate building, each step echoing loudly in the empty halls. Though she tried to shake off the feeling, a sense of unease settled over her like a heavy cloak. Every flicker of her flashlight seemed to reveal more shadows lurking in the corners, waiting for her. She could feel eyes on her, unseen and unrelenting. A tingle ran down her spine, causing her heart rate to spike with fear. Turning around quickly, she was met only with silence and darkness. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something or someone was watching her. Heart racing, Jessica stumbled out into the blinding sunlight, desperately seeking refuge from her pursuers. Her feet carried her in a frantic dance as she weaved through unfamiliar streets, constantly looking over her shoulder for any signs of danger. A peaceful park offered a brief respite, its lively atmosphere providing comfort amidst the chaos. But even here, Jessica couldn't escape the looming sense of dread that clung to her like a second skin. As she spotted a hooded figure approaching, her breath caught and her body tensed in anticipation. Were they after her? Was this all just a figment of her imagination? In a split second, the figure was upon her and then gone, leaving Jessica to grapple with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. Relief mixed with fear and confusion as she retreated back to the safety of her apartment. Collapsing onto her couch, she berated herself for succumbing to these strange abilities and the paranoia that came with them. She knew she needed help, but who could possibly understand what she was going through? Scolding herself for succumbing to such irrationality, she promised patience until Connie's return—opening up to her might give her some comfort. Exhausted from the day's turmoil, Jessica's key clattered against the door of the apartment before finding its home in the lock. She pushed the door open, her voice vaulting into the familiar space, "Connie?" Silence greeted her. A thin layer of disappointment settled over her shoulders as she realized that she was alone. Jessica shrugged off her jacket and headed straight for her laptop, an anchor in a sea of uncertainty. She needed answers, something to ground her mind amidst these swirling experiences. The screen came to life with a soft glow as she navigated through the tangled web of information online. Her fingers danced across the keys to uncover any historical threads about the abandoned building that might explain why it seemed to pulse with such eerie energy. The digital map unfurled before her eyes—a modern cartographer's canvas—and there it was: the skeletal structure of the dilapidated building. Street view images portrayed it in various stages of decay, a carcass of what once throbbed with corporate life. Old photos tucked away in local archives revealed a bustling office space, now reduced to rubble and whispers. Despite her intrigue, anxiety gnawed at Jessica's mind like rats on electrical wiring. She slumped onto the couch, surrendering to its cushioned embrace. The television flickered on, bathing the room in an artificial luminescence that promised distraction. As channel after channel spilled their content into her lap, Jessica mulled over how she would confide in Connie about this hidden chaos brewing within her. A flicker of Alice's face brushed across Jessica's mind, an additional presence who might share in this burden soon enough. But for now, Alice remained worlds away—her bright spirit adventuring through academic fields afar—leaving Jessica to stew in this concoction of secrecy and fear. News anchors painted stories across the airwaves, one report snagging Jessica's frayed attention—a mysterious wave of energy suffusing the cityscape. Brows furrowed, she leaned forward as details swirled together like leaves in an autumn gust. And then as rapidly as the peculiarity arrived, it dispersed into mundane updates on traffic jams and local events. Meteorologists forecasted temperamental weather patterns—skies shifting moods at a moment's notice—an echo of Jessica's own internal storms triggered by that inexplicable energy surge. Commercials paraded past: fast food temptations, gleaming cars... Then one halted Jessica's idle thoughts—a VR experience promising unparalleled immersion. The memory surfaced unbidden: an advertisement skimmed during her online forays into hypnosis realms—a hypnotist's advert complete with that entrancing spiral emblem... Was it mere coincidence or something deeper pulling at her awareness? She oscillated between rational explanations for remembering such an image and an undercurrent of suspicion blooming within. "It's normal," she murmured to herself, "You've been diving deep into mind control research; a little paranoia isn't unnatural." Cartoons chattered from the television, their simplicity a balm to Jessica's rattling nerves. With each animated antic displayed on-screen, another thought nudged at her—the absent Alice would have chuckled at these scenes too. A sharp pang struck Jessica; Connie had not yet appeared nor left any word behind—a behavior unaligned with her typically considerate demeanor. Anxiety flared anew within Jessica. Was Connie somehow entwined in all this? Or was paranoia weaving conspiracies where none existed? As night stretched its shadows across the room and laughter from cartoons filled the air, she forced deep breaths into tight lungs, pressing down waves of panic with iron willpower until Connie returned—or until another dawn beckoned with answers cloaked in morning light. Jessica's fingers hesitated above her phone, a knot of worry forming in the pit of her stomach. She tapped Connie's number with a tentative touch and waited as the phone buzzed against her ear. The call rang, unanswered, cutting through the apartment's silence like a beacon of her mounting concern. Minutes stretched into small eternities before the phone in Jessica's hand vibrated with urgency. She answered immediately, "Connie?" "Oh Jess! Sorry, I missed your call," Connie's voice filtered through, bright and bubbling with an infectious cheerfulness that seemed out of place. The relief on Jessica's face twisted into confusion. Connie's lighthearted tone didn't match the shadows that crept around the edges of Jessica's reality. "Where have you been? I've been worried about you," Jessica implored, her voice tight with barely contained anxiety. "You won't believe what happened to me!" Connie exclaimed, words tumbling over each other in eagerness. "But I'll tell you all about it when I get back, okay?" "Wait—" Jessica interjected but was met with a soft click as Connie ended the call. Silence reclaimed its territory in the room as Jessica stared down at her phone, a sense of unease unfurling within her chest. Waves of happiness had radiated from Connie's voice—a stark contrast to the unease gnawing at Jessica. A battle waged within her, suspicion against reason. Paranoia whispered seductive theories into her ear, but she pressed it down firmly with logic's calmer hands. Her eyes swept across the tranquil walls of her apartment as she took stock of the solitude surrounding her—no lingering glances from strangers, no ominous shadows cast by hidden figures. Everything was as it should be. Drawing in a measured breath that challenged the irrational fear scratching at her consciousness, Jessica told herself to stay grounded in reality. The calm rhythm of her own heartbeat served as an anchor amidst this tempest of doubt and speculation. No one suspicious had followed her home; that had to mean something. Connie's joy should have been contagious, but instead, it floated like an oil slick on water—visible but separate from Jessica's darker sea of thoughts. With effort, she let herself sink into the couch once more, resigning herself to wait for Connie's return and for all these enigmatic puzzles to unfold into answers bathed in daylight's candor. Jessica rose from the embrace of the couch, her body moving with mechanical precision as she navigated the maze of her own home. A film of restlessness clung to her skin—an invisible shroud she yearned to wash away. The creeping tendrils of paranoia had nested in every corner of her thoughts, and the idea of a shower promised a brief respite. In the sanctuary of the bathroom, she peeled off the layers of clothing that seemed to suffocate more than cover. Her hands wrapped a towel around her torso with practiced care, avoiding any direct gaze upon her own reflection in the misted mirror. The notion that she could fall prey to her own powers filled her with a silent dread—a fear that gnawed at the edges of her resolve. She stepped out of her undergarments, letting them pool around her feet like petals shed by an anxious flower. Cold tiles greeted her bare soles as she padded toward the shower. The towel remained clutched around her, a barrier between herself and her bewitching traits. With an almost reverent gesture, Jessica placed the towel outside the glass door of the shower stall—a cotton guardian against unwelcome gazes. Steam rose from the hot cascade within, tendrils curling into the air as if beckoning her to enter. She hesitated for a breath, then surrendered to its call. Jessica's skin prickled with warmth as the showerhead cascaded a soothing veil of water over her. She exhaled deeply, letting the steam envelop her, allowing a moment's reprieve from the day's tangled events. Washing away layers of fear and doubt, she felt the droplets trace paths along her curves like tender caress. Once satisfied that not an inch remained untouched by the purifying stream, Jessica reached for her towel without ever casting a glance upon her own reflection. Her movements were careful, deliberate, avoiding even the slightest chance of accidental self-hypnosis. The fabric gripped between her fingers as she patted herself dry, still concealed in the humid cocoon of the shower stall. Swathing herself in the towel, she covered her body with practiced ease. Her eyes, disciplined sentinels, held their gaze upward as she gingerly stepped out into the cooler air of her bathroom. Clothes slipped back onto freshly cleansed skin—a barrier between herself and whatever uncertainties lay beyond these walls. She was armored now in cotton and denim; a simple protection against her own power. Exiting the bathroom with apprehension threading through each step, Jessica heard a noise from the living room—a sound that couldn't have been born from silence alone. She paused, heartbeat notching up in tempo, yet cloaked in the cotton embrace of her toweling shield. Connie was present, her expressions revealing her joy as she caught sight of Jessica. She hesitated briefly before approaching her, her phone still grasped in her hand. Connie bubbled with eagerness to share something, but Jessica interjected with concern lacing her tones, "What took you so long to get home?" Connie's lips moved around a tale of discord and resolution—she and Sam had quarreled but found their way back to each other. As she flicked through digital memories that shone from her screen, Connie presented them like treasures unearthed from personal moments. Jessica's heart swelled with empathy at Connie's initial plight. "I'm sorry it didn't work out," she offered gently, probing whether Connie wished to unburden further. With a dismissive shake of her head and a smile that seemed etched deeply upon her features, Connie assured Jessica of her current joy. Yet as Connie proffered one last image turned video before Jessica's eyes—an enigmatic display—Jessica's curiosity piqued. "Why show me photos... videos, of you and your ex?" Jessica asked softly, puzzlement furrowing her brow while inside a fluttering trepidation urged her to look away. Underneath the surface of her words lurked readiness—a plan to unfurl her potent defenses if paranoia proved prophetic. Connie's enthusiasm permeated the space between them, her face alight with a smile that seemed to bask in the glow of rekindled love. "He's not my ex anymore, Jess," she clarified, her tone softening, a lilting rhythm emerging in her speech. "We made up; everything's fine now." Jessica watched, her senses heightened as Connie's voice shifted, its cadence taking on an oddly distant quality, almost hypnotic in its insistence. "There's no need to worry," Connie continued, her words flowing like honey. "Everything is fine now. You can relax." The video looped on the phone screen—a static scene that hinted at subtle movement underneath. The more Jessica listened to Connie's reassuring litany, the more she sensed an undercurrent of sound, elusive and indistinct, only perceptible when Connie spoke. "Everything is fine now... I'm with my boyfriend... just one loose end that needs to be tied up," Connie droned on, lulling Jessica into a rhythm of reception and attention. Apprehension twisted within Jessica as she attempted to close her eyes against the unfolding scenario. But before she could shutter her gaze, Connie interjected again. "You need to look at this image," she urged gently yet with insistence. "It'll help you understand too... just like it helped me realize that everything is fine and how much I wanted to be back with Sam." As Connie spoke, the soft distortion of her voice played at the edges of Jessica's awareness—a dull tone warping her words ever so slightly. "As you focus on my voice... as you focus on drifting deeper for me... as you focus on staring at the image and allowing yourself to relax... You will sink deeply down..." Jessica felt her head swimming and her surroundings fading away. She could feel herself being pulled into a trance, her concentration riveted on Connie's words and the image on the screen. As she drifted deeper, Jessica could sense a weight being lifted off her shoulders, a sense of calm enveloping her. But along with the calm also came a growing curiosity—an urge to understand what was happening and why. "And you should focus on this image," Connie instructed with a serene but compelling air. "It's very important for you not to look away... you can't look away." Aware that something was amiss and relying on instinct rather than inquiry, Jessica invoked command, "Go deeper now, Connie." Connie's eyelids fluttered briefly as relaxation seeped into her features. She continued to hold forth the phone towards Jessica—the angle skewed such that the image remained obscured from full view. Amidst the chaos churning in her mind rose a mantra—insistent and unignorable—that it was critical for Jessica to see that image. The notion clung to her thoughts like ivy to ancient walls: it's important to look at the image. Connie's breath escaped her in a low, contented sigh, her body succumbing to the influence of Jessica's command. Words that might have spilled from her lips stilled, lost to the tranquil sea of her trance. Jessica watched, reminding herself that Connie, in this pliable state, would take her suggestions without resistance. As she focused on Connie's suggestibility, something peculiar began to happen within the confines of her own mind. The words 'open' and 'suggestible' echoed, reverberating against the walls of her consciousness. They became an internal chant, a hypnotic rhythm that Jessica found herself entwined with. Open... suggestible... The refrain looped in her thoughts, each repetition drawing her deeper into an unwitting meditation on the words. She felt them wrapping around her mind like silk ribbons, binding her rationale with whispered promises of obedience. 'What was I doing again?' she thought to herself. Shaking her head slightly in an effort to clear the fog, Jessica focused on the task at hand. "Connie," she murmured, trying to infuse authority into her voice, "turn... phone." The clarity wavered as if filtered through a veil of heavy mist. But open and suggestible minds do not easily part with the blissful void of trance; such was the predicament Jessica inadvertently highlighted for herself. To be so receptive meant inviting stillness rather than action—wading deeper into silent waters instead of swimming for shore. Minutes seemed both to stretch and contract in a disorienting dance as Jessica struggled with the dual desire to act and simply be. Extending a hesitant hand towards Connie, she cautiously took hold of the phone that continued to ensnare their attention. Ensuring that its screen faced her steadily, Jessica couldn't help but keep her eyes fixed upon it—the image was indeed important to look at. Even as awareness flickered that she should press the power button and sever its influence, she remained ensnared by reluctance. Her finger hovered over the button, trembling with intention yet paralyzed by competing desires. Within that very image lay a pattern—an insidious cascade that beckoned her gaze to follow its serpentine route. Try as she might to close her eyes and extinguish its hold over her, there came a wave of heaviness—a weight demanding surrender rather than resistance. Eyelids drooped like curtains too saturated with water from a relentless downpour. Sleepiness suffused her body alongside dizziness that spun her senses in languid circles. Jessica's finger grazed the power button but held back from pressing it down as if there were an invisible barrier resisting her will. Keep looking at the image... It's important... Her internal resolve wrestled with the lure of those words while simultaneously echoing them. She knew she should act—she felt certain—but certainties were becoming mere whispers amongst louder calls for submission. A breath filled her lungs; a slow intake that signaled relaxation seeping through every fiber of being. As she exhaled, tension unfurled its grip from around her chest. _It's important to look at the image..._ With a lapse akin to resignation or perhaps acceptance, Jessica's hand fell away, coming to rest by her side. The image still before their shared gaze, both women were adrift in its captivating sway—time lost its meaning as they stared in collective entrancement. The silence was punctuated only by their synchronized breathing until a notification flashed across the screen—a bubble of reality intruding upon their hypnotic voyage. Two simple words from Sam appeared: "Status report?" For a moment longer they lingered in limbo before Jessica's attention snagged on those words—a reminder of purpose amid the mire of confusion and control. The buzz and flash of Sam's message fractured the thick veil of entrancement that had settled over Jessica, a fleeting beacon in an otherwise dimly-lit tunnel. A part of her strained against the complacency that held her captive, pushing her to extend a finger toward the phone. The button that would sever their connection to it lay an inch from her touch—an inch that felt as vast as a chasm. Her body betrayed her, refusing to follow through with the act of pressing down. Instead, Jessica's eyes latched onto the screen once more, and like a moth to flame, she was drawn back into its glow. The silence around them was a blank canvas, her thoughts painting on it a single insistent brushstroke: it is important to look at the image. As she struggled for clarity amidst the muddiness enveloping her willpower, Jessica's thoughts turned inward, reaching for the one anchor she knew could hold fast against this tide—the pulsating power within her breasts. A surge of warmth radiated from her chest, spreading through her veins like liquid fire. The energy ebbed and flowed with each breath she took, pulsing in sync with the beat of her heart. 'My breasts are more captivating than any image,' she assured herself, drawing on the strength they possessed. This connection tethered her to a semblance of control, and for a moment she felt encapsulated by a protective shell—a shield against the relentless whisper urging her gaze not to stray. Yet even as she marshalled this inner power, Connie's voice—infused with a spectral melody—wound its way through Jessica's consciousness, repeating its siren call. Time seemed to dilate under the weight of that incantation; seconds stretched into minutes as Jessica fought against the tug-of-war between trance and autonomy. She considered reaching out to Sam or rousing Connie from their shared spell. Yet again, that chorus returned: _It's important to look at the image._ The words were like velvet manacles clasping gently but firmly around her wrists—restraining yet oddly comforting. Jessica knew resistance resided within reach—a notion fluttering in her mind's periphery like a moth hesitant to leave its cocoon. But surrender beckoned with open arms, promising serenity if only she relinquished herself to its embrace. The allure was powerful; surrender whispered promises of issues resolved without struggle or strife. And there was Sam—his visage woven into the tapestry of images before her eyes—a part of this enigmatic scenario playing out across pixels and light waves. She entertained the possibility that he might have answers or a resolution at hand. Connie's voice resumed its hypnotic cadence within Jessica's mind—a soft echo bouncing off cerebral walls—with each repetition deepening the impact: "As you focus on my voice... as you focus on drifting deeper for me... as you focus on staring at the image and allowing yourself to relax... You will sink deeply down." Enthralled by these mental echoes, Jessica felt herself once more swept up within their current—a riptide pulling her towards depths untold. The dizziness returned—a gentle whirlpool caressing thought edges until they blurred and softened. Then clarity sparked—a momentary flare amidst fog—and Jessica seized it with all that remained of her willpower. She leaned towards Connie, whose face bore an expression serene in its blankness. "Wake up," Jessica instructed firmly but calmly, commanding presence resonating through layers of trance-induced lethargy. "Wake up now, Connie." [[Connie wakes up...->Chapter03]]

# Chapter III: Exploration, Part 2 Connie's eyelids fluttered, lashes casting delicate shadows on her pale cheeks as consciousness seeped into her once vacant stare. There was a moment's silence, a breath's pause before she resumed as if no interruption had ever occurred. "You're going to relax for me," Connie's voice caressed the air, soft and rhythmic. Jessica's gaze remained tethered to the image, and with each word from Connie's lips, resistance ebbed away like tides retreating from the shore. "You're going to go deeper," Connie continued, her tone undulating gently—a hypnotist's lullaby. Within Jessica swirled a vortex of confusion that dissipated quickly, cleansed by the image and Connie's soothing speech. She heard Connie breathe, "You are going to relax." And Jessica did. The muscles in her shoulders unknotted, the furrow between her brows smoothed out, and her breathing steadied to match the rhythm of Connie's directives. The sound that merged with Connie's voice held an allure all its own—a magnetic pull that seemed to enhance the timbre of her speech. It was easy to listen to this blend of voice and resonance; each syllable was a silken thread weaving around her thoughts. "Relax," Connie said again, "stay like this... do not move... do not think." The instructions cascaded over Jessica in waves of verbal caresses. They looped in her mind until they poured from her own lips in quiet affirmation. "It's important to look at the image." Jessica repeated the phrase, a mantra anchoring her deeper within the sea of trance that Connie navigated with ease. Connie intoned that even as the image would vanish from sight, it would imprint itself indelibly upon Jessica's psyche—there to beckon her back into this soporific state whenever summoned. And with these words, an anchor dropped further into Jessica's subconscious: "pink honeypot," a special phrase that would draw forth the image and plunge her into depths untold. All Jessica could do was echo these sentiments as they were spoken. "Pink honeypot," she murmured, repeating after Connie, feeling herself spiral down this reverie of becoming a perfect, sexy hypnotic subject. With deliberate motion, Connie reached out and reclaimed the phone from Jessica's lax grip. She observed Jessica—the pupils dilated in deep focus—and searched for any fissure in the entranced facade before her. Connie's hand waved slowly before Jessica's face, her fingers drifting like shadows across a moonlit wall. Jessica's eyes remained unfocused, unwavering in their trance-induced stillness. A small smile played on Connie's lips as she watched for any sign of awakening, but none came; Jessica was adrift in the depths of her own psyche. Turning her attention to the phone in her hand, Connie's thumbs danced across the screen with purposeful taps and swipes, sending silent messages into the digital ether. She glanced up only once to ensure Jessica remained enveloped in her hypnotic cocoon. "You will listen and accept my commands," Connie murmured, a velvet command winding through the thick air of hypnosis that filled the room. Jessica's lips parted, repeating each word in a whisper that affirmed her deepening susceptibility. "I will listen... I will accept your commands," she echoed, her voice a testament to the control Connie wielded over her. Connie leaned in closer, whispering of Vertigo, a club pulsating with life and secrets within the city's heart. She painted a picture with her words: neon lights flickering against dark corners, music throbbing like a second pulse beneath skin, and strangers mingling with a heady sense of anonymity. Jessica repeated after Connie with an ethereal calmness, "Vertigo..." Her mind absorbed the suggestion—her future self already standing amidst that vibrant chaos. As Connie spoke of quitting a job and slipping into a scarlet garment that would cling to curves and catch eyes, Jessica felt a flicker of hesitation ripple through her. But beneath it all was the irresistible tide of trance pulling at her thoughts, smoothing over doubts, replacing them with silken strands of suggestion. "You'll wear the red dress," Connie stated with hypnotic precision. "When you do, you'll find yourself at Vertigo... ordering a shaken martini at the bar." Each directive laid a stone on an unseen path leading to an unknown destination. "And you will forget this trance," Connie added softly. "Forget about the programming as soon as you wake. But your subconscious... it will remember." Her voice became less of an external sound and more of an internal echo within Jessica's mind. Jessica repeated these final commands dutifully, though inside she reprimanded herself for not guarding against this vulnerability. But with each passing second, resistance dissolved into compliance—a delicate dance of internal discord giving way to tranquil acceptance. The struggle within Jessica waned; it was like watching mist evanesce under the morning sun—silent protests fading until nothing but serene acquiescence remained. "When you wake up, you will remember nothing after you left the bathroom," whispered Connie. Connie's voice unfurled like a ribbon, weaving through the still air. "You will also begin to feel more sexy," she breathed, each syllable dripping with hypnotic honey, "confident in the sway of your hips, aware of the power in your gaze." Jessica's lips parted to echo the command, and as the words left her own mouth, a warm sensation fluttered in her belly. She tried to clamp down on this budding arousal, to shove it aside as an unwelcome intruder in the sanctum of her will. But the feeling bloomed with persistent insistence, tracing tendrils of heat up her spine and igniting a blush across her cheeks. Her breasts felt heavier, more pronounced beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, and she caught herself relishing their weight—a silent testament to the hypnotic prowess residing within them. Connie observed the subtle shift in Jessica's posture—the slight arch in her back that suggested an emerging embrace of sensuality. Eyelids heavy with trance-induced languor yet somehow alert to their newfound appeal, Jessica became a vessel for desire—a desire she commanded yet did not consciously seek. Connie leaned back, entranced by the sight unfolding before her; Jessica's breathing deepened, each inhalation a thread pulling at the edges of restraint. Her efforts at suppression were evident in the faint crease that returned to her brow, fighting against Connie's implanted compulsion. The silence stretched thinly between them as Connie patiently waited for Jessica's internal battle to ebb. The temperature rose perceptibly within Jessica's frame—her skin flushed with an inner fire that seared through layers of resistance. "You're going to embrace this feeling," Connie continued, "because it's what you want deep down. Sexy and confident... let these words wrap around you like a second skin." Her hand gestured fluidly through the air as if caressing the concept into existence around Jessica's form. Though Jessica sought to barricade her mind against this unsought arousal, Connie's words acted like keys undoing locks she hadn't known were there. Layers of self-restraint peeled away with every repetition until she found herself murmuring in soft agreement: "Sexy... confident." As if compelled by unseen forces beyond her conscious control, Jessica's hips adjusted subtly—her stance implying promise and invitation. And even as she fought to anchor herself against these invading suggestions, they wove their way into her essence inexorably, like vines seeking sunlight through cracks in a wall. Jessica sat motionless, intoning the words even as they started to slip from her conscious grasp—like trying to hold onto water as it flowed ceaselessly through clenched fingers. Inside there was silence now where turmoil had once churned. No dissent echoed in her thoughts; only emptiness filled where once there had been caution and self-admonition. And as Connie watched on with analytical detachment—the architect of this transformation—Jessica rested in profound stillness, internally placid and externally obedient. Connie's focus shifted back to her phone, her thumbs once again engaging in the rhythmic tap and swipe of messaging. As she composed another text, her eyes, normally sharp as flint, took on a glassy sheen, reflecting the room's muted light. Beside her, Jessica's breathing deepened, steady and unhurried. The tension in her muscles melted away like ice succumbing to the gentle warmth of spring. Each inhale was a wave of tranquility washing over her; each exhale left her more settled into this blissful state. In the quietude of her mind, Jessica whispered to herself—a reminder wrapped in paradox: she would forget to remember and remember to forget. Her consciousness floated on this mantra, riding its loops and twists like a leaf on a wind-whipped stream. The air around them hung heavy with silence, save for the occasional murmur from Connie or the soft sigh from Jessica's lips as she relinquished herself further into relaxation—the sensation both delightful and liberating. Connie, absorbed in her own world of digital communication, remained oblivious to the subtle shift in Jessica's breath—a sign that it wasn't just her body that relaxed but her very essence, yielding to a state of complete and utter tranquility. ... ... ... A loud bang erupted from Connie's phone, a stark punctuation to the silence that swathed the room. Jessica's attention snapped toward the sound, a frown creasing her brow as she entertained a fleeting suspicion that Connie might be engrossed in some game on her device. A thread of consciousness began to weave through the fog of trance, prompting Jessica to recall her initial intent. Her resolve solidified; Jessica leaned forward, lips parting with purpose. "Connie, I need to explain something to you," she said, her voice steady despite the tempest of unease brewing within her. Connie's fingers stilled on the phone screen, and she lifted her gaze to meet Jessica's. Puzzlement fluttered across her features—a veil of forgetfulness momentarily concealing the events of earlier. "What is it you wish to discuss?" Connie inquired, the sharp edge of curiosity coloring her tone. Without further hesitation, Jessica drew back her shoulders and revealed her chest to Connie. The radiance seemed to emanate from her skin as if illuminated by an inner glow. It was as though all the light in the room converged upon Jessica's hypnotic breasts, casting everything else into peripheral shadows. Connie's eyes widened then glazed over, and all semblance of inquiry evaporated from her expression as she surrendered once more to the spellbinding pull. Each curve beckoned, each line ensnared—her consciousness cascading into a vortex centered upon Jessica's mesmerizing form. Wordlessly, Jessica guided the entranced Connie to the sofa, where she gently eased her down. She towered over Connie with an air of authority tinged with compassion. "I acquired these... abilities through a freak accident," Jessica disclosed, studying Connie's vacant stare. "Do you know anything about mind control?" Connie sat immobile as if carved from stone, save for the shallow rise and fall of her breath and the fluttering of eyelids that fought against the enchantment. Her mind was adrift in a haze; thoughts tangled like webs spun by lethargic spiders. After what felt like an eternity, she muttered in a tone devoid of inflection, "Sam knows... about mind control." The uncertainty was palpable in Connie's voice—a distant echo at odds with her compelled confession. Yet even as she spoke, it was evident that real understanding eluded her grasp, snared by the visual lullaby before her eyes. Jessica pressed on with deliberate questions meant to unravel this mysterious thread. "How much does Sam know about mind control? Have you seen him use it?" Connie struggled against mental inertia as though each word she sought was submerged in thick molasses. She shook her head faintly, vision still locked onto Jessica's chest. "I don't really know…" Her voice trailed off into uncertainty. "And how did you learn about Sam possibly knowing more about mind control?" Jessica continued, sensing there was something beneath the surface waiting to breach into awareness. Again Connie's response was halting, hindered by an enthrallment that clung to her psyche like ivy clinging tight upon ancient walls. "I don't know… just a vague idea…" With this elusive information at hand and sensing no further progress could be made at this juncture, Jessica decided it was best not to delve deeper for now; Sam would be approached later for clarity. It was time for Connie to awaken from this imposed reverie—to revisit reality with its myriad complexities and decisions that awaited them both regarding these newly manifested powers. With intentional firmness yet gentle care Jessica spoke clear words of emergence and drew cloth over her hypnotic endowment. As fabric obscured skin and contour once more, Connie blinked back into wakefulness—her trance dissolved like mist before sunlight—and found herself seated beside Jessica once again present in both body and mind. Connie blinked a few times, the fog of trance dispersing from the glint in her eyes. She fidgeted with excitement, resembling an eager scholar on the cusp of a groundbreaking discovery. "Jess, this is fascinating," she blurted out, her words tumbling over one another in their rush to escape. "The implications of these abilities are immense! We could delve into research, study the phenomenon. How did they manifest? What are their limits? I want to help you understand them, harness them. I'm here for you, truly." The earnestness in Connie's voice painted a veneer of solidarity and support. Yet beneath that layer, something else simmered—an intent wreathed in ambiguity. Jessica's senses tingled; distrust wove a thread through her thoughts, tempered only by the insidious doubt that perhaps it was her own paranoia coloring her perception of Connie's eagerness. Feeling a surge wash over her—a mix of annoyance and an inexplicable craving—Jessica smoothed a stray lock of hair from her face. The suggestion given earlier whispered through her mind, imbuing her with confidence that bordered on defiance. "Connie, I need to apologize," Jessica admitted with a level gaze and a slight tilt of her head. "I used my powers without your consent—that wasn't fair to you." Connie's expression softened, eyes widening as if she were on the verge of offering absolution. "Jess, it's okay—I—" "Hold that thought," Jessica interjected smoothly while gesturing vaguely toward the kitchen space behind them. As Connie turned to follow the misdirection, Jessica seized the moment. She let the fabric slip away with deliberate languidness—her hypnotic breasts bared to airspace once more—capturing Connie's attention as she turned back around. A glimmer suffused with an otherworldly quality enshrouded Jessica's figure again. Connie's inquisitive spark dulled as she submitted to the enchantment—her body slackened, pliant under the spellbinding influence. "You won't remember any of this," Jessica murmured softly but firmly as she positioned herself before the seated woman. "You won't recall my powers or what happened here today." The command hung between them like a silken veil. And then an added layer: "When I cover myself again, you'll feel drawn to me in a new way—aroused and desiring of my touch." Her voice coated each syllable with intent as she watched Connie absorb each suggestion amidst ripples of susceptibility. "Tonight," Jessica continued, leaning in so she filled Connie's vision entirely, "you will respond to every desire I express. And when you surrender to sleep later on, your memory will erase all trace of our shared pleasure." With those words laid upon Connie like a mantle of obedience, Jessica draped her blouse across herself again, sealing in her provocative allure. As if snapped from invisible restraints, Connie's awareness returned—with it came an immediate shift in demeanor. She blinked up at Jessica with an allure reflected back through pupils dilated by more than just dimming light. They began to flirt with coy exchanges; giggles interlaced their dialogue as they leaned closer to one another. The air between them was thick with desire and the tension of anticipation. Jessica's fingers danced lightly across Connie's cheek, tracing the delicate lines of her face while their lips lingered close but not touching. They both knew what was coming, but neither wanted to rush the moment. Finally, their lips met tentatively at first—a whisper against skin—but confidence burgeoned into fervent kisses that possessed and probed with insatiable curiosity. Their tongues tangled in a dance of passion, exploring each other's mouths as if trying to memorize every inch. Connie moaned softly into Jessica's mouth, her hands finding their way to the smaller woman's waist and pulling her closer. The heat between them was intoxicating—igniting a fire that had been smoldering since they first laid eyes on each other. Their hands roamed over each other's bodies, memorizing every curve and valley. Connie's clothes began to disappear as she hungrily shed layers between feverish kisses. Soon, she was naked—her body pressed together against Jessica's in desperate need. The coolness of the hardwood floor against her bare skin was a sharp contrast to the heat emanating from Jessica's body as they continued to explore each other. Connie's fingers traced down the smooth expanse of her lover's back, coming to rest on the curve of her hips. Their lips met once again, tongues tangling in a dance that grew more frenzied with each passing moment. Connie could feel her desire building with each touch, each caress stirring a deep ache within her. As their kissing grew more passionate, Jessica began to lead Connie towards her bedroom—her hands guiding and teasing along the way. When they finally reached the bed, they fell onto it in a tangle of limbs and heated need. Jessica's hands roamed over every inch of Connie's body, igniting flames at every touch. Her lips followed suit—leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles along Connie's neck, shoulders, breasts, and down to her stomach. Connie arched into every touch, moaning softly as waves of pleasure washed over her. She had never felt so wild with need before—never experienced such an all-consuming passion. Every thought that was not focused on Jessica and their shared desire faded away into oblivion. When she finally found herself pressed against Jessica once again—with their bodies moving together in perfect synchronization—their cries mingled in ecstatic harmony. Connie seemed insatiable; she lavished attention upon every inch of Jessica's body and relished every response evoked from within—a cycle of giving and taking that spiraled towards blissful inevitability. Inevitably their energy waned—their fervor receding like tides leaving behind only interlocked silhouettes cradled by soft bedding and dimmed lights. Jessica returned to her bed, collapsing into a pile of soft pillows. Exhaustion enveloped her body as her mind wandered towards deep reflection - pondering the various paths that lay before her... She briefly acknowledged the pressing responsibilities of reality - the need for income and hard work to sustain daily life - but in this moment, those concerns felt far away... almost insignificant. A realization curled around consciousness: Why cling to routine when untapped power lay dormant within? Could not these gifts render occupational endeavors redundant? She closed her eyes against the ponderings—allowing sleep's embrace to pull her further away from waking worries—as certainty settled in: Tomorrow held possibilities undefined by today's constraints... [[The next day...->Chapter04]]

# Chapter IV: Orientation Day Dawn broke, diffusing light that crept through the blinds, calibrating the rhythm of a new day. Jessica stirred, her limbs stretching with languid ease as she surfaced from slumber. Her lids fluttered open to greet the morning with a sense of vitality reinvigorated by restful oblivion. Today, unlike most days, she woke cloaked in an air of rejuvenation as if the previous night's indulgence had siphoned off all vestiges of fatigue. Noting the time, a mere hour shy of her workday's commencement, she swung her legs over the bed. Her feet touched the cool floor, sending ripples up her spine that snapped her fully into alertness. With measured steps, she navigated towards the bathroom in a bid to avoid any unforeseen encounters with Connie; the memory—or rather the strategic absence of it—of last night's trance still fresh in her mind. She secured the door with a click that resonated like a safeguard against unforeseen exposure. Water cascaded over her skin as she stepped into the shower, steam enveloping her in a cocoon that seemed to purify thoughts as much as flesh. Droplets traced pathways over curves and valleys before spiraling down the drain—a symphony of routine cleansing. Dressed and ready, Jessica parted from her apartment, stepping out into a world oblivious to the arcane power she harbored. As she settled into her desk at work—the monochromatic humdrum of office life buzzing around her—she noted an uptick of glances sent her way; curious eyes lingered longer than usual. However, it did little to perturb Jessica; after all, with hypnotic abilities tucked within her blouse like an ace card, there was nothing to fear from prying eyes. In the midst of the monotonous clicking of keyboards and hushed conversations between her coworkers, Jessica sifted through her inbox. A reminder for tomorrow's onboarding session popped up—a delayed initiation into corporate mechanisms that desperately craved to define her role within their confines. Alongside it lay an email requesting textual modifications on the company's website: trivial amendments that barely skimmed the surface of what this job could entail. Jessica leaned back in her chair, eyes tracing patterns on ceiling tiles while mulling over her position. She'd been here only a fortnight yet every fiber in her being screamed for emancipation from such pedestrian occupation. A smirk traced its way across Jessica's lips at how patently absurd it was for someone with mystical endowments to tether herself to an office desk. With nonchalant keystrokes, she began drafting a resignation letter—evidence that prior night's whispers had woven themselves seamlessly into willful resolve. Clearly—and she couldn't help but couch this thought in acerbic wit—it had absolutely nothing to do with those suggestions insinuated into her pliant and defenseless mind under moonlight's watchful eye. Jessica rose with calculated grace from her chair, the nascent decision to resign coalescing into a deliberate stride that carried her toward the manager's office. She navigated the labyrinth of cubicles, each adorned with the personal trinkets of its occupant—a silent testament to attempts at injecting personality into the sterile corporate environment. Arriving at her destination, she rapped on the wood-textured door with firm knuckles. The hollow echo suggested an unoccupied space beyond. Jessica's brows furrowed slightly as she tried the handle—locked, reaffirming the absence of her direct superior. A sigh escaped unbidden; she had steeled herself for this moment, ready to brandish her letter like a banner of freedom only to be met by a barrier as mundane as an empty office. Unwilling to relinquish the momentum of her resolve, she made inquiries among nearby colleagues. Murmurs and shrugs were all that greeted her; it seemed as if no one could quite pinpoint who wielded ample authority in this corporate web. Each mention led to another obscure name, trailing off into an intricate tapestry of hierarchy she hadn't yet learned to navigate. Jessica retreated back to her desk, masking frustration with a veneer of composure. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against each other, devising another approach—an exit strategy deserving of her unique talents. Tomorrow's onboarding session became not just an initiation but a stage for her performance. The concept took root in her mind: she would attend and charm her way through the ranks until she found someone with the requisite power—a person from whom she could extract not only an exit but also a well-lined parachute to ease her landing in life's next chapter. Her lips tugged into a subtle smile as she envisioned the scene; eyes locked on a figure of authority, words woven with hypnotic silk to wrap around their thoughts. They would see reason in releasing her from her contractual shackles while simultaneously acknowledging the merit in rewarding her brief tenure with substantial compensation. Jessica left the office, her decision emboldening each step as she bypassed the drone of day-to-day life. The usual commute home felt brisker; her mind raced, anticipating the research she was about to delve into. She stepped off the bus and walked the remaining distance to her apartment, thoughts whirling around the idea of mind control defenses. Upon entering the quiet sanctuary of her apartment, she wasted no time booting up her laptop. The familiar hum of the machine calmed her nerves. Her fingers danced over the keys as she typed in queries looking for a safeguard against her own burgeoning power. Research, a small part of her realized, that should've been her sole priority from the moment she discovered her abilities. The screen filled with articles, forum discussions, and scientific papers detailing a history of mind control techniques that stretched back further than she had imagined. She leaned forward, eyes scanning details of devices crafted for thought manipulation—machinery that used a cocktail of visual and auditory stimuli to coax the mind into submission. Fascinated yet wary, Jessica read about how these modern Sirens functioned; they required repeated exposures to reinforce commands implanted in the psyche. It was a process eerily similar to indoctrination—sessions upon sessions layering suggestion upon suggestion until resistance waned and autonomy diminished. A chill danced up Jessica's arms. This information was intriguing because it highlighted a crucial detail: suggestions were adhered to swiftly but their hold on an individual wasn't permanent without consistent reinforcement. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips—did this mean that her hypnotic influence was similarly fleeting? She continued scrolling through digital pages, uncovering whispers of a government organization known only by its initials—a collective dedicated to thwarting non-consensual mind control usage on unsuspecting individuals. Their mission was noble, secretive and underscored with urgency. The tendrils of Jessica's investigation then led her down a darker path—one where government shadows loomed over penal institutions experimenting with these technologies in attempts at criminal rehabilitation. Questions surged within her: Was society on the cusp of embracing such methods for broader purposes? However, amidst these revelations were narratives that strayed from technological means—tales of individuals wielding intrinsic mental dominion over others without aid of devices or drugs. These accounts teetered on the edge of plausibility; dismissed by skeptics as mere paranoia or conspiratorial delusion. Jessica reclined in her chair, feeling the hammering sensation of information overload and uncertainty pulsing through her temples. She couldn't help but wonder if these seemingly unbelievable tales were actually mirroring her own reality. After all, she possessed an ability that had yet to be recognized by science or society - something that made her stand out among the documented methods. Her gaze drifted towards the window where daylight waned into twilight's embrace. With curiosity piqued yet trepidation nipping at its heels, Jessica pondered on where she stood amid these unveiled secrets. Where did her own unique powers fit within this clandestine tapestry woven from threads of influence and control? Jessica's fingertips glided across the trackpad with a near-silent whisper, her heartbeat resonating in her ears as she delved deeper into the shadowy alcove of the internet where the Mind Control Resistance Unit—or MCR—lurked. The screen cast an eerie glow against her face, reflecting the intense concentration in her eyes as they darted from one paragraph to the next, absorbing the covert operations of this clandestine task force. Littered with encrypted pages and circumspect testimonies, the information about the MCR was sparse yet riveting. It painted the picture of a phantom-like presence within law enforcement—a specter that moved unseen through society's underbelly. Those who found themselves entangled with mind control either by accident or malicious intent looked towards the MCR as vigilant protectors, their very existence an enigmatic whisper of hope. The cursor hovered over links leading to redacted documents—the black bars streaking across them like lashes that hid from public eyes truths too delicate to disclose. Passages detailed methods of counteracting hypnosis, therapies to rebuild fractured psyches, and anonymous case studies with intriguing success rates. It was all Jessica could do not to lean closer until her nose brushed against the screen in her thirst for knowledge. But for all her searching, no tangible lead presented itself; no office location, hotline number, or even a postbox. The MCR shielded its operatives as fiercely as they guarded their charges. Their anonymity was their armor, a necessary barrier that even presidential authority dared not breach for fear of compromising their safety and effectiveness. A wave of deflation washed over Jessica. She craved guidance—someone versed in esoteric knowledge who could teach her to harness what coursed through her veins—and not be at its mercy. Her recently awakened powers were a double-edged sword: granting her sway over others yet cutting into her sense of normalcy. Despite yearning for contact with the MCR's phantoms, realization settled heavily upon her shoulders. She'd have to navigate this labyrinth alone: there was no chapter in her area; no foothold for her to connect with those who might know more about mind control. With resignation etched into the lines of her face, Jessica closed her laptop with a soft click that sounded final in the quiet room. She stretched languidly, her arms reaching upwards as if to pull answers from the ether above before falling back onto her desk with a gentle thud. Retreating to the solace of her couch, Jessica allowed herself to sink into its cushions. The fabric embraced her form as she molded herself into its comfort—a rare moment of vulnerability in an apartment otherwise steeped in silence. A deep breath filled her lungs before being released slowly; a futile attempt to expel the frustration pooling within. She needed a mentor or guide—someone who understood the subtle nuances of mind control and could teach restraint and mastery over these intrusive gifts. More importantly, she sought assurance that she wasn't becoming something monstrous—a predator lurking behind friendly eyes. Jessica's mind was filled with uncertainty as she considered reaching out to Sam for guidance. She wasn't sure how knowledgeable he was on the subject of mind control, but he might have some helpful information. Still, she'd have to wait for Connie to come back so she could ask about him. To distract herself from the gnawing anticipation, Jessica sent a message to Alice, casting it into the digital void. She envisioned Alice, far from the familiar corners of their shared apartment, possibly too early into daybreak's embrace to respond. A sigh slipped from Jessica's lips as she settled back, the possibility of an immediate reply dim and distant. The television beckoned—a siren calling her to lose herself in its colors and narratives. Hesitation lingered for a moment; hadn't she just read about the dangers lurking in images and sounds? Yet logic prevailed—no one would be so overt in their manipulation. The Mind Control Resistance would have purged such blatant threats. So with a lingering trace of caution, Jessica yielded to the glow of the screen and the delightful distraction of cartoons dancing across it. ... ... ... The clock hands had journeyed deep into late afternoon territory when Jessica finally succumbed to curiosity and dialed Connie's number. The call connected, a tiny echo before Connie's voice reached through—apologetic yet resolute—she was spending the night elsewhere. Disappointment flickered behind Jessica's eyes. She would have to wait. Jessica ventured downtown where the night pulsed with potential adventures. Neon signs winked at passersby while music's rhythm pulsed from open venues—a symphony for nocturnal souls seeking escape or excitement beneath star-speckled skies. It was here amid laughter and life's cacophonous beauty where Jessica hoped to discover a place resonating with intrigue that called out just to her. The city's pulse quickened as the evening waned, its heartbeat resonating through the soles of Jessica's heels as they clicked rhythmically on the sidewalk. Buildings stood as silhouettes against the darkening sky, their windows gleaming with the promise of concealed revelries. Around her, nightclubs began to awaken from their daytime slumber, doors swinging open to release snatches of vibrant music into the cool air. Jessica's eyes roamed, taking in the various establishments with a discerning gaze. Neon lights battled for dominance in the twilight, each club vying for attention with its own alluring beat or a queue of eager patrons. Among them, one establishment stood apart—the Vertigo club. It seemed an island of intrigue in a sea of hedonism, cloaked in a slightly formidable aura that whispered of untold stories. An inexplicable recognition flickered through her mind at the sight of its name etched in glowing letters above the doorway. The sense was faint, elusive like a half-remembered dream upon waking. Vertigo club—it beckoned to her from its perch amidst less savory venues, a beacon for those who craved depths beyond the mundane. Pulling out her phone, she typed a brief message to Connie, thumbs dancing over the screen with a haste fueled by an unplaced urgency. 'Heading into Vertigo club,' she sent it off into the digital ether and pocketed her phone without waiting for a reply. With measured steps, Jessica approached the club's entrance, where shadows draped themselves across worn brick and concrete—an architectural canvas displaying decades of urban tales. A bouncer stood sentinel at the door: an imposing figure whose impassive gaze swept over her as she neared. She met his scrutiny with a poised tilt of her head, confidence radiating from within. The door swung open at his silent nudge—no words passed between them—and Jessica stepped across the threshold into another world. The transition was palpable; the clamor of the city faded into a dulled murmur, replaced by thumping bass that set her heart to match its tempo. The pulsating rhythm of the club infiltrated Jessica's senses, wrapping around her as she stood at the precipice of the dance floor. The mingling scents of tobacco's acrid bite, musky fragrances, and the sharp tang of liquor set upon her nostrils, forming a cocktail that was at once intoxicating and overwhelming. She wrinkled her nose delicately but allowed curiosity to win over initial dismay. Beneath the strobing lights that painted the scene in staccato bursts of color—vivid blues, greens, and reds—Jessica observed the sparse crowd. A few early birds lost themselves to the music's embrace, their movements languid and natural as they danced alone or in small groups. Their bodies were silhouettes cut from shadows and light, bending and swaying like reeds in an electric wind. She turned away from the dance floor, casting a glance over to the bar where voices clamored for attention. The tender navigated a sea of commands with practiced ease, pouring and mixing behind the aged counter worn smooth by countless elbows and spills. Behind him, bottles gleamed dimly, their contents promising escape or at least temporary amnesia. Her gaze drifted past the barflies ensconced upon their stools—these fixtures stamped with the muted resignation of regular attendance—and found focus on a more peculiar spectacle. Anchored in shadow near one corner of the club was a stage that bore all the hallmarks of an improvised hypnotist's den. Black boxes adorned with spiraling patterns flanked a lone figure—an ostensible hypnotist whose garb shimmered faintly under a solitary spotlight. Jessica's heart skipped with intrigue as she absorbed this unexpected element—a performer of hypnosis amidst revelry seemed a curious inclusion. She threaded closer, drawn by an inexplicable lure as much as by professional interest. The figure on the stage gestured grandly while weaving words into patterns designed to ensnare attention. The disheveled man, a beacon of self-acknowledged mediocrity, stood before the microphone, his voice threading through the hum of waiting conversations. He welcomed everyone with an affable grin, launching into a series of corny jokes that rippled through the audience with a mix of chuckles and groans. "Gather round for a night of hypnotic fun and laughter!" he declared, sweeping his arm in a wide arc as if to physically reel in the crowd. His attire—a rumpled suit that seemed an afterthought to his spontaneous charisma—did little to dampen the infectious enthusiasm that radiated from his stance. "I may not be the master of hypnosis," he quipped, "but as an amateur hypnotist extraordinaire, I've got plenty of subconscious ticklers up my sleeve!" With each punchline, his eyes sparkled like those of a mischievous sprite sharing secrets with willing accomplices. "Let's drive straight into our subconscious and explore the wackier side of our minds—don't worry, no one will be left under my spell... unless you wish to be," he added with a wink that suggested conspiratorial mischief. His assurance came playfully wrapped in humor. "Don't fear, folks, I won't be planting secret suggestions—although if you find yourself craving chocolate cake after tonight, I can't take all the credit," he teased, earning a ripple of laughter from newly engaged onlookers. He continued his comedic monologue unabated. It turned out hypnosis was not his first love; art school had claimed that honor. However, creativity with brush and pigment eluded him. Instead, he found his true calling drawing people in with words rather than images. "And ever since then," he laughed, pointing to himself, "my trips to the gym have been purely hypnotic! Saves me a fortune on membership fees!" Introducing himself as a 'hypno-comedian,' he claimed to have traded paintbrushes for pocket watches and canvases for eager audiences. Each joke punctuated the space around him with waves of amusement and skepticism. Jessica's eyes rolled at the man's attempt to blend comedy with trancework—a cocktail she found more sour than sweet. She'd had her fill, her skepticism outpacing her curiosity as she spun on her heel towards the bar. The scents and sounds of conviviality drew her away from rambling jokes and promised mixed drinks over mixed messages. Leaning against the bar's polished surface, Jessica caught the bartender's eye. "What do you recommend?" Her voice mingled with the cacophony of clinking glasses and idle chatter. He appraised her with a casual glint in his eyes, replying, "If you're up for something different, try our Mystic Elixir. It's for those who fancy a dash of enigma swirled with the extraordinary." Curiosity piqued, Jessica nodded her consent. The bartender proceeded with finesse, his hands sweeping over an array of bottles and mixers. He selected vials with an alchemist's precision, decanting liquids that cascaded into a glass like a miniature aurora borealis. The concoction settled into a captivating play of light and shade within its chalice—a half-cut globe cradling the mystical brew. Extending her hand, she accepted the offering and brought the vessel to her lips. The first sip released an explosion of flavors—an intricate ballet where sweet citrus notes leaped over spicy undertones that playfully flicked across her tongue. Each draught drew her deeper into the enchantment of taste; it was a revelry for the senses she hadn't anticipated. Pausing only to appreciate the ardent blend one last time, Jessica tilted her head back and emptied her glass in one elegant motion. She placed it down with satisfaction curling at the edges of her lips and scanned the room for interesting diversions. Her gaze returned to the hypno-comedian who was still dancing through his set, eager to pull laughter from the void like an illusionist conjuring doves from silence. "You know," he joked, "being a hypno-comedian is akin to being a magician—instead of rabbits from hats, I draw chuckles directly from ether!" Jessica stifled a yawn; his humor failed to ensnare her interest any longer. She drifted in and out of rhythm as soulful jazz mixed with blues held sway over the club's atmosphere. Notes twined around bodies on the dance floor like velvet ribbons fluttering in a gentle breeze. After allowing herself to be carried briefly by the music's allure, Jessica decided it was time to depart. She exited Vertigo club—the door closing behind her seemed to seal away its microcosm—as she retraced her steps through streets painted with nighttime's palette. Upon arrival at their apartment, she shed her coat like a cloak of weariness and surrendered to slumber's embrace atop her bed without delay. Sunlight crept through the windows, rousing Jessica from her dreams and forcing her to face reality much sooner than she wanted. With a groan, she opened her eyes and realized she had overslept - time had pulled off its sneaky theft once again. She scrambled out of bed and hastily got dressed, knowing she was already late for work. Clothed and quickened by purpose, she navigated the familiar route to work amidst a stream of other early travelers casting long shadows in the dawn light. She stepped into the office just as her new colleagues were filtering into the meeting room—voices buzzed with timid introductions and anticipatory murmurs. Her manager stood at the front, papers shuffling like leaves about to take flight in some unseen gust. The onboarding session loomed ahead—a gathering ripe with potential for Jessica. A plan simmered beneath calm facade: once concluded, she would linger behind to ensnare her manager's mind—her hypnotic prowess steering toward one goal: freedom from this job laced with severance's golden thread. The division of the room seeded a ripple of restlessness among Jessica's peers, their glance flickering from one group to the other. As the manager skimmed the list, he called names with an impartial tone that echoed off the sterile walls. "Group 1, this way please," he instructed, beckoning them toward an adjacent conference room whose ambiance was steeped in corporate austerity. Jessica could feel the weight of her manager's gaze as she joined her designated contingent. Their footsteps fell into a synchrony as they followed him through a corridor where fluorescent lights hummed overhead, whispering secrets in electric tongues. Upon reaching their destination, a rectangular chamber furnished with a slimline table and cushioned chairs, they were greeted by a palpable air of expectation. The manager stepped out momentarily, promising to return in haste. "Please make yourselves comfortable while we arrange a few things," he said before disappearing. Settling into the embrace of a seat that seemed engineered to promote posture over comfort, Jessica allowed her eyes to wander over her companions. The group comprised women exclusively—a detail that whispered at her mind with threads of suspicion. They exchanged cautious smiles and idle small talk that surfed on currents of mutual unfamiliarity. A clock ticked unobtrusively on the wall, its hands creeping with bureaucratic slowness as moments collected like dust on forgotten ledgers. The muted buzz of voices outside the room lilted and waned, casting shadows of sound against the silence within. Before Jessica could unravel the enigma niggling at her consciousness, the manager returned with thanks painted on his lips for their patience. With a flicker of movement, he brought the projector to life. Its fan began to whir—a lullaby for attention—as light burst forth and splashed against a screen that descended with mechanical grace. "Welcome to CORE," a disembodied voice intoned through speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling's expanse. A peculiar resonance stitched itself through the cadence of speech—a familiarity that twitched at the edge of Jessica's subconscious. Had she heard this tone before? It felt oddly... invasive. The video flowed into view, images flickering rapidly as if trying to embed themselves directly into their retinas. Each frame paced with precision, guiding them along a visual narrative designed to instill CORE's ethos. Jessica watched as her colleagues' eyes glazed over; their focus laser-fixed upon the screen. "A productive CORE employee is a happy CORE employee," continued that voice—a mantra laced with something more than just words. The screen pulsed with an unsettling rhythm—a sound that wove itself into their thoughts like a sonic loom crafting invisible patterns within their minds. A more intense sound played, which seemed to send a tingling sensation all over Jessica's body, as well as the bodies of the other women. It felt dull and etched, as if it's not having the full effect that it could have on Jessica. Still, since she didn't feel anything like that before, she still felt a little… "...pleasure," completed the voice seamlessly as if it were granting benediction through indoctrination. Jessica's plan to escape the tedious orientation with a seamless display of her hypnotic prowess stumbled in the face of the voice's amplified command. She stood, the fabric of her top yielding as she tugged it upward, her breasts catching the light and drawing the manager's gaze like moths to a flame. Yet, before words could blossom from her lips to ensnare him further, the voice surged through the speakers, a tide that threatened to wash away her intent. "That's right, just relax and give in. Continue to give in to the pleasurable sensations," boomed the omnipresent voice, resonating through the room and within Jessica herself. A shiver of compliance tickled across her skin; the sensation was undeniable—like warm waves lapping against her resolve. Jessica's command for the manager to join the others and face away hung suspended in an air dense with control. "Don't move, just stare and relax. It's important to stare and relax." Her focus wavered, reality frayed at the edges as hypnotic fog seeped into the space between thoughts. With a surge of effort, Jessica tried to assert control. "Turn off—" Her voice faltered as sonic tendrils from above entwined her words. "Stare and relax, don't move and don't think. It's time for orientation." Her eyes locked onto the manager's; they were deep pools of submission reflecting her own powers back at her—his attention riveted on her exposed flesh. She saw his will crumble like cliffs against relentless tides. Her breasts' allure shimmered under the fluorescent lights—a beacon he seemed unable to forsake even when commanded otherwise. "Turn off...the presentation," she murmured. But his trance was a fortress: impregnable and silent. "Go deeper, turn your mind off completely. You are a happy CORE employee. Just relax. Relax and go deeper." The mantra bathed them both; Jessica felt an echo within herself—a whispering chant that enfolded her efforts. The manager reclined, his body a puppet whose strings had been loosed by some greater power than hers—the disembodied voice their puppeteer. His shoulders slouched further, sinking into oblivion with every syllable. Caught on an invisible cusp between resistance and surrender, Jessica found herself mouthing along: "I am a happy CORE employee..." Her tongue halted mid-sentence; she would not buckle beneath this unseen force. With renewed determination, she snapped out another plea toward the manager: "Please...turn it off." Her tone dripped with urgency—a countercharm seeking to snare his fading consciousness. Yet still he wavered, marooned between dual sirens—one compelling relaxation and obedience, one beckoning him to action through visual enchantment. "You are a loyal CORE employee," affirmed that inexorable voice once more—an affirmation that seemed an anchor for his psyche amidst tumultuous seas of influence. The stakes hung suspended; each party ensnared by dual compulsions: Jessica by her breasts' potency yet faltering against this new adversary; the manager by both her enthralling anatomy and CORE's auditory leash. "It's time for your orientation," intoned the voice one final time—an edict that promised oblivion or revelation. Eyes pressed shut in defiance, Jessica struggled against the pull of the voice, yet tendrils of its resonance slithered into her mind, wrapping around her thoughts. Her attempt to leave faltered; limbs felt heavy, like leaden anchors dragging her deeper into a sea of subjugation. "Relax deeply now," the voice commanded, reverberating through her bones and blood. Her arms surrendered to gravity, dangling useless by her sides, and despite her efforts, eyelids fluttered open. Drawn once more to the pulsing image on the screen, she found herself entranced by its hypnotic dance. Visions of escape dissolved as she inhaled the mantra permeating the air. It beckoned—insidious and sweet—luring her with the promise of blissful surrender. The room faded as a singular truth emerged: it was imperative that she stare at the image, absorb its rhythm, surrender to stillness and silence. Each breath synced with the cadence of compulsion; each heartbeat drummed allegiance to CORE. "You are a loyal CORE employee. As a loyal employee, you will always obey your managers. You respect the hierarchy of CORE." Her chest rose and fell with each repetition: "I am a loyal CORE employee." The words wrapped around her psyche like vines, threading themselves into every fiber of her being. "As a loyal employee, I will always obey my managers." She acknowledged her place in the hierarchy, an obedient cog in CORE's grand design. "I respect the hierarchy of CORE." With each new revelation from the voice—a directive for honesty, a call for confession—Jessica found herself echoing them mechanically, stripped of will, stripped of resistance. The mantra filled the void where defiance once resided: "Are you doing anything to displease your manager? If so, you should come clean." The screen flickered again as if winking at their collective undoing. A fresh wave of instruction washed over them: "Are you a journalist looking for an inside scoop? Or maybe you're a private detective looking for clues?" No secrets could nest within them now; no dissent could thrive under CORE's watchful gaze. Jessica repeated the words alongside her peers, a chorus devoid of individuality—a symphony of compliance. "I will report to my manager." As the sonorous voice inquired whether Jessica's actions could potentially displease her manager, she voiced a truth that had previously swirled silently in her depths. "I've been trying to persuade him to terminate my employment and grant me a substantial severance," she admitted, her voice a mere echo in the chamber of CORE's command. The voice did not waver; its intention was not to judge but to guide—to show the images of fictional scenarios and indoctrinate the new employees. "Are you currently engaging in actions that might displease your manager?" it continued automatically. Without hesitation, with the airy quality of one deeply entranced, Jessica confessed. "I am endeavoring to mesmerize him," she revealed, the words felt like stones dropping into the still waters of her consciousness. The recording continued undeterred, the drone of its cadence an insidious lullaby. When it asked if Jessica believed these actions were likely to displease her manager, she responded with a submissive nod and a whispered "yes," crystallizing her awareness of the transgression. Prompted by the unyielding voice, Jessica ceased the act which opposed CORE's structured world. Her hands lifted with mechanical grace, concealing her hypnotic assets beneath fabric once more. She lowered herself back onto the cold chair, repeating with an absent air, "It is time for my orientation." Her voice was devoid of resistance as she drifted further into CORE's welcoming abyss. ... ... ... Though part of Jessica toyed with thoughts of abandoning this place—of painting her world anew in swathes of crimson at Vertigo—her prevailing impulse was singular: isolate her manager from prying eyes and reassert dominance within this clandestine battle of wills. As the final chords of her inner resistance ebbed away, Jessica felt the weight of what she must do—it was imperative to reestablish her control. She let the fabric of her blouse fall away, revealing the hypnotic swell of her breasts once more to the room. Her flesh seemed to pulse with a mesmerizing rhythm, calling forth attention like a siren's song. The manager, his gaze tethered to the enchanting sight, stepped forward as if drawn by unseen threads. He approached the gathering of women who remained adrift in their trance-induced haze. The captivating power of Jessica's presence enveloped them all, and as they beheld her, each woman succumbed further under Jessica's dominion. One by one, their expressions softened—eyes glazed over in unfettered admiration, breaths falling into a synchronous pattern. They were like moths enraptured by a flame that both ensnared and liberated. A flicker of concern crossed Jessica's mind; she remembered again why she was here—her orientation beckoned with an urgency that was hard to ignore. Yet, that call was now distant, muffled by the chorus of post-hypnotic suggestions swirling through her subconscious. These whispers shaped her resolve, pointing towards an exit she had not considered before: quitting. Jessica focused on the manager—his eyes now locked onto hers with rapt attention—and she began to weave her hypnotic web around him. "You see me standing before you, irate and unmanageable," she intoned, each word dripping with persuasive force. "I am someone you cannot tame or satisfy—I demand too much." His face contorted briefly as if trying to reconcile this new reality with his own perceptions. But resistance was futile; Jessica's influence seeped into his consciousness, rewriting his memories with meticulous care. "You have no choice but to fire me," Jessica continued, painting the narrative with bold strokes. "And you feel compelled...no, obligated...to ensure I leave with a generous severance package. Six months' pay ought to cover the inconvenience." The manager nodded slowly, as if in agreement with a decision long made—his autonomy slipping away like sand through fingers. Turning to the women whose attention she commanded utterly, Jessica spoke with authoritative calmness. "Each of you will provide me with your contact information." She gestured languidly toward a notepad on a nearby table. "Do this now," she instructed gently but firmly. One after another they rose, movements fluid and obedient as they scribbled down emails and phone numbers on slips of paper which they then handed over to Jessica without a word. With business concluded and minds molded to her intent, Jessica redressed and prepared for departure. She cast one last glance over her shoulder at the manager and his captivated flock. "Begin your presentation anew once I leave," she said softly. "Your orientation is important." She could feel their compliance in the air—thick and palpable—as she turned and exited the room. Her heart steadied with every step away from CORE's influence—the promise of freedom pulsing in time with her confident strides out into the world beyond these walls. Jessica's pulse thrummed in her ears, an echo of the dizzying power she'd wielded in CORE's domain. The streets stretched before her as she wove through the throngs of nightlife seekers, her recent triumph a cloak that insulated her from the chill of the evening. The neon lights of downtown cast kaleidoscopic reflections on the slick pavement, beckoning her deeper into the night. The familiar silhouette of Club Vertigo loomed ahead, its facade strangely mute against the cacophony of city sounds. Shadows clung to its windows like curtains drawn tight against prying eyes. A sign hung askew on the door, declaring in stark letters: "Closed Tonight." Disappointment gnawed at Jessica's anticipation like a silent predator. She meandered through less frequented paths, where music and laughter spilled from doorways in teasing whispers. Eventually, Heaven's Delight materialized from the urban maze, its ambiance muted compared to the allure of Vertigo. An advertisement tacked to its entrance promised opportunity—a bartender's position left vacant by sudden departure. Her curiosity piqued by the mention of Mystic Elixir—a concoction she knew all too well—Jessica slipped inside Heaven's Delight. Inside, warmth enveloped her as dim lights carved pockets of intimacy among velvet-clad booths and gentle murmurs. She approached the bar where a temporary bartender worked with methodical precision; his movements were efficient yet lacked the flair she remembered from her encounter at Vertigo. "Mystic Elixir?" she ventured, leaning against the polished mahogany. The bartender offered a rueful shake of his head. "Not anymore," he replied. "The creator took his secret with him—left for greener pastures." Jessica lingered at Heaven's Delight for hours longer than intended, her thoughts adrift amidst half-heard conversations and the clink of glassware. Yet no trance or compulsion could be found here; no gaze held hers with magnetic pull. Time dwindled until the urge to retreat to familiar confines became irresistible. Jessica navigated the now-sparse streets under a sky streaked with the last vestiges of night, returning to sanctuary. The apartment greeted her with its usual quietude as she eased the door shut behind her with practiced silence. But within this haven, a new sound intruded—a voice laced with soft insistence: Connie's voice. "Yeah, just look at us. We're great, aren't we? Just look at us and relax..." Tiptoeing closer to the living room threshold, Jessica stilled. The air seemed threaded with an unseen tension...