Inoculation

Dealing with Juan the night before was a breeze. I called him up and we went out for drinks. I spiked his third drink (which he only ordered after we’d agreed that he’d be coming back to my place) with a moderately high volume of scopolamine. Scop isn’t a common date **** **** but has some seriously fun side effects. Imagine roofies or GHB, but the anterograde amnesiac effects last upwards of twelve hours and instead of just getting sort of loopy, the subject just sort of becomes agreeable. I use it on occasion, but because it actually inhibits the formation of memories, it’s usually something I only use for setup. In this case, Juan is going to be riding pretty high on it for the next forty-eight hours, which he’ll probably explain away himself because of the three tabs of Special K I snagged from his pockets after I Gerald’s Gamed him to the bed.

So showing up the next day to give Melanie her massage, I went in pretty light. Yeah it was a risk, but I needed to lay some groundwork. I presented myself as the guy Juan called in for backup because he was sick. She just shrugged it off, seemed to note with approval that even though I wasn’t a hard body like him, at least I was a fairly inoffensive looking APM (average pale male). I set up the table, laid out some incense, and surreptitiously slipped a micro dose of a cocktail of MDMA and LSD into her water bottle. Low lights, soothing music, and the stage is set.

Melanie is… well, a little too skinny for my taste. Curves that you’d barely have to turn the wheel for and although her butt is heart shaped it’s also pretty flat. Her legs are pretty well toned and she has a pretty if boring face. It’s possible for a woman’s features to be a little too symmetrical, and with her slight build it almost gives her an otherworldly appearance. I think the word I’m looking for is ethereal, although “ice queen” also comes to mind. I mentally adjust my timetable and start working her shoulders.

I don’t think it’ll come as much of a surprise that I’m actually a halfway decent masseur. I even took a couple classes back in the 90s (under the name Justin Deveraux), and at one time thought of it as an optional career path in the event that my calling couldn’t pay the bills. As I’ve said elsewhere I have very strong hands. It doesn’t take long to find where her stress points are and she’s very quickly putty in them.

One of the reasons I don’t give timeframe estimates is that I like to approach each job differently. Sure I could do a blitz run, tie her up, and spend three days just basically reducing her to a traumatized heap of skin and bone, but the contract implied a desire for a permanent shift in demeanor. Something like that takes time and can only be done through gradual adjustments.

See, a person will always act in their own self interest, or more to the point, what they believe to be their own self interest. The thing is, with the right amount of effort you can shift a person’s perception of what they desire (or really anything). It goes back to what they call the golden rule of hypnosis “You can’t make someone do something that’s totally against their nature or that they would not normally do in the circumstances that they are in.”

My initial forays into what would eventually become my brainwashing protocols were directed at finding ways to circumvent that rule. Bypass it entirely if possible.

It’s not possible. So what’s an aspiring mind control fetishist with delusions of artisanal bimbo crafting to do?

Turns out that “nature” is fluid and perception crafts reality. That sounds sort of hippie new age bullshitty, but it works. A conservative woman won’t strip in front of a group of horny guys, but she will take her clothes off if she’s getting ready to take a shower. So even if she is in front of a bunch of hormonaly over charged Neanderthals, as long as she believes she’s alone in her bathroom she’s more than happy to take off her clothes. And once she’s done it, it becomes a little bit more acceptable to do. Then convince her that she’s fantasized about doing it, and she’ll begin to craft her own fantasies around the idea. She’ll start dreaming about it. With hard work, within a month the conservative housewife is on the pole at the Chiba Lounge in Ft. Lauderdale using the stage name Bubbles and giving handies for $20 a pop in the VIP. I still check on her every time I’m in Florida.

To make a long story short (too late) to make the sort of permanent change we’re looking for in Melanie, we need to take some baby steps at first, and alter her own perception of her needs and desires. That’s what I’m here to start doing today.

The **** have started kicking in and she’s already pretty relaxed so I make some small talk, using leading questions and careful word emphasis to lead her into a light hypnotic trance state. I proceed to rapidly deepen this until I have her right where I want her. Open, pliable, and receptive.

“Melanie, can you hear me?”