Summary: A coed uses nylon feet to turn her Professor into a lez pet.
Note 1:
This story was inspired by a few hypnotic pantyhose videos including: Professor Mink Gets Schooled and Krissy's Best Friend's Mother Ms. Mink (starring Krissy Lynn and Mindy Mink), Under Her Influence (starring Savannah and Tilly McReese), Dani and Cherie Pantyhose (staring Dani Daniels and Cherie Deville) and Mesmerizing Sex With Her Friends Mom (staring Adriana Chechik and India Summer).
Note 2:
Thanks to Tex Beethoven, mangababy, Mesa Man and Wayne for editing this story.
Hypnotic Hosiery: A Professor Falls
Professor Banes droned on about the evils of men... like she seemed to do every class.
Today our professor who was dressed in a blouse and slacks like she always was, ranted on about male inventions to keep women enslaved to male power and fetishes.
The first half hour was about high heels... something I wore all the time... as they were sexy as fuck.
The second half was on pantyhose... something I also wore all the time... well, truth be told, it was sometimes pantyhose, sometimes a garter-belt and stockings, sometimes thigh highs and occasionally some crotchless pantyhose (these I wear either when going to the Le Chateau Club on the hunt for some MILF to pleasure me... or two... or three... my record was four in one night).
When she looked at me seated in the front row wearing a skirt, nylons and heels, she shook her head in not-so-subtle disgust, I knew she would be my guinea pig.
I had been learning and practicing hypnosis for a few months. I had hypnotized a few people, made them do some fun things, but never anything overtly sexual (okay, I actually had them do lots of overtly sexual things, just nothing nefarious or actual sex)... but my loquacious professor seemed like the perfect choice to explore my hypnosis skills in a more devious way... something I had been pondering doing for a while.
I was a feminist... in the sense that I believe women are equal to men, can wear what they want whether slutty or conservative, but the key to me is never to judge other women (which the Professor was doing, albeit I suppose I was judging her as well). Thus, I would feel no guilt in potentially turning her into the exact thing she was warning us against.
Our major paper was due the next Friday, so I wrote one that focused on the power of hypnosis. My three proof paragraphs were about the ability to alter people's predictable behaviour, the power of suggestion in altering people's appearance, and lastly how hypnosis can alter not only behaviour but sexual orientation.
I had real evidence for my points: a summary of past experiments for proof one, real research from advertising companies for proof two, and proof three was generic fantasy babble about what I planned to do to her. I also provoked her by focusing that section on the compulsive power of high heels, stockings and subliminal messaging.
A blow job to the janitor was all it took to gain access to her office, where I borrowed the CD she always had playing in her office... a jazz mix that was already quite relaxing, and I had a nerd friend, who I had go down on me on occasion, help me add subliminal messages throughout the cd.
The CD had the following assertions subliminally added:
1. All Professors should wear pantyhose and high heels.
2. Toes in nylons relax you.
3. Pantyhose, nylons, stockings and thigh highs are sexy.
4. You must obey girls in nylons.
5. You are a submissive slut underneath your geek professor persona.
6. Having your feet and legs massaged puts you in a pliable hypnotic state.
7. You crave coed cunt.
These seven phrases now had played in her office all week while she graded papers and met with students. I realize I was risking students becoming subliminally hypnotized as well... but it was a risk I was willing to take.
On Monday, I was excited when she came to class wearing a blouse, skirt, nylons and heels... she had obeyed my subliminal messages.
I wasn't surprised when she ripped my blasphemous (to her) essay apart in front of the entire class, calling it complete nonsense and an insult to women everywhere. She never used my name, but she looked directly at me and referenced some of my 'so-called' evidence.
I was about to ask why she was wearing heels and nylons when someone else did.
She looked down at herself and looked surprised. Under well-crafted subliminal manipulation, the person just performs the task without even realizing they are doing it. It just becomes a part of what they do, who they are. She stammered, clearly surprised by her own attire, "I-I-I have an important meeting later today."
Someone else asked, questioning her past lectures where she had stressed how women always had to stand up for what they believed in, "So you change your appearance based on your situation?"
"Well, sometimes we have to," she said, uncomfortably, realizing she was going against her own feminist rants.
The same person questioned, "Wouldn't you say that's rather pretentious and condescending?"
"Um, no, sometimes women have to play into society's standards in an attempt to overturn the hierarchy," she said, which I thought was a pretty impressive recovery.
Professor Banes reassumed control of the class and lectured about overcoming obstacles. I considered teasing her by slipping out of my heels and seeing if the toe conditioning had worked, but decided that was better left for a one on one conversation... which I planned to undertake once class was finished.
Once she left, my classmates talked about how weird Professor Banes had acted today and how everything she had been spewing the past month now seemed insincere.
I smiled as I headed out and went directly to her office.
I knocked on the door and she said, after a moment, "Come in."
"May I see you about my essay, Professor Banes?" I asked politely.
"Sure, sure," she nodded, seemingly still quite flustered... as she was clearly trying to understand how she'd ended up in nylons and heels today.
"Thank you," I said, closing and slyly locking her door.
I sat down in a chair and as she always did, which was perfect for my plan, she moved to a chair, so she could face me. This would mean among other things that she would be able to see my nylon-clad toes.
I asked, once she was seated, my essay in her hands, "What was wrong with my essay?"
She shook her head in disgust, "What wasn't wrong with it?"
"Professor, all the research in that paper is accurate," I stressed.
"What research? All you have here is ridiculous theories," she replied, waving my paper around and clearly annoyed she was actually having this conversation.
I said, "I disagree. Each of my theories can be backed by research."
"So, the notion you can alter a person's sexuality is backed by real research?" she scoffed.
"That case study is in the works as we speak," I slyly foreshadowed, knowing she wouldn't catch on to what I was implying... that she was my case study.
"Where is that research?" she asked, as she again waved my essay dismissively in the air, "It's sure not in here."
"I'll likely have it completed by the end of the day," I said, confident I would have her between my legs within minutes.
"Regardless, the idea that hypnosis can manipulate people is ridiculous. It's a parlour trick, no more, no less," she claimed, as I slipped my feet out of my heels and wiggled my toes.
As I did, I pointed out, "Ad agencies have used hypnotic manipulation to sell products for decades."
"That isn't hypnosis," she countered.
"Its mental manipulation, and hypnosis works on the same principle," I argued, wiggling my nylon clad toes again.
"I don't see it," she said, even as I noticed her staring at my feet.
"Why do people buy Coke over Pepsi by a large percentage since they taste almost identical?" I asked.
