Bonnie was lying in bed, her pale, chubby legs spread so wide her ankles dangled over the edges of the queen-sized mattress, her trembling hand resting quietly at last on her sated cunt, when the horrifying enormity of what she'd just done finally hit her. It broke through the drowsy afterglow she felt, pierced the fog of trance that still clung to her muzzy thoughts, and sluiced into her brain like a whole bucket of ice water. Her cloudy blue eyes refocused again on her surroundings as she fumbled around for her phone, desperately hoping that what happened wasn't really real.
But no. It hadn't been a horny, sexy daydream that simply popped into Bonnie's head somewhere around the second hour of edging and repeatedly listening to the hypnosis file that was now officially her masturbatory obsession. She could see the text right there, sent to her oldest friend in the whole wide world almost a solid hour ago. 'Hey Claire Bear Stare, check this shit out!' Followed by a link to the exact same video that had gripped and held Bonnie's mind in an inescapable grasp for almost a solid week now. And followed by a little notification that was just one ominous, terrifying word. 'Read.'
Bonnie immediately sent a follow-up as fast as her fingers would let her, hoping and praying she was in time even though she knew full well that Claire was sitting at home with nothing better to do than scroll through social media and shit-talk Leslie's ex on the group chat. There was absolutely no way her friend hadn't already clicked on that link on the assumption that it probably led to a new TikTok dance video, or some juicy bit of YouTube drama they could cackle about at brunch tomorrow. But it didn't stop Bonnie's thumbs from hammering out, 'Dpmt' c;ock tjat! Ot's spam!' and hitting send before she could even realize her right hand was too tired from hours of masturbation to type properly.
She stared at the screen, waiting anxiously for a response, but there was nothing. Not even the little 'Read' notification to let Bonnie know that Claire was looking at her texts instead of clicking on the link and going to the website it led to. The embedded video would autoplay, Bonnie knew. If she'd tried it right away, she'd already have watched the whole thing at least once by now. Bonnie forced her weary, sweat-soaked body into motion, levering herself up off the damp mattress and onto the bedroom floor.
A week ago, she would have been terrified of feeling seen. She would have been mortified by the notion of her best friend clicking on that link and finally finding out what secretly turned Bonnie on in the middle of the night when her lights were out and her finger was circling on her clit. She would have sent the same message, but she would have been sending it in the hopes of tricking her friend into avoiding the website that she'd discovered during one of her many, many dives down the rabbit hole of hypnokinky social media. Because Bonnie wouldn't have been able to look Claire in the eyes knowing that Claire knew her like that.
But now... Bonnie stumbled across the room, her legs rubbery with exhaustion and her thighs smearing pussy juice against one another with every step. It had been a week since she'd first found the site, seven days of edging her drippy cunt to the seductive spirals on the screen and letting the warm, soothing voice drift into her ears and take her through hour after looping hour of deep hypnotic programming. Seven days times eight hours of masturbation a day was... was... Bonnie's eyes glazed over for a moment as she fought the suggestion that math was boring and ultimately failed... it was a lot of brainwashing. She'd noticed it was beginning to genuinely affect her almost four days ago, and she still hadn't been able to tear herself away from the file. And that was with years of experience messing around with random inductions and shaking off unwanted post-hyps. Claire... Claire wasn't going to stand a chance.
Bonnie rummaged around in her dresser, grabbing one of the body-hugging crop-tops that she'd purchased in an impulsive shopping spree a couple days ago and squirming her way into it. It was a little too tight, which had the net effect of squeezing her boobs together into a valley of cleavage that attracted the attention of every man within a hundred-foot radius, but all of the alternatives were equally slutty now that she'd thrown her old wardrobe away and she didn't have much time to spend deliberating over clothing. Not when Claire could already be on her second full viewing of the video, her fingers already drifting down between her legs to masturbate while the file's brainwashing soaked into her vulnerable mind.
Because there was no way she was going to resist it. It was easily the most impressive file Bonnie had ever seen, smooth and seductive and utterly captivating, and that spiral hooked the eyes and utterly refused to let go. The first time Bonnie watched it, she didn't wake up until her phone died, and all that happened when she finally snapped out of it was that she plugged it in to the charger by her bed and left it that way while she edged until she passed out. Thank God it had been a Saturday, or she probably would have lost her job. Claire would be... Claire probably was... utterly mesmerized by it right now.
Bonnie looked for some underwear, but the drawer was completely empty. She let out a sigh of frustration--she knew she still had some panties somewhere in the apartment to put on when she got her cycle, but her subconscious mind had happily hidden its location away from her at the behest of the website's owner and she couldn't make herself give it up no matter how hard she tried. Going to work without anything on under her skirt had been the first sign that she was genuinely falling under the spell of the hypnotic voice that haunted her every waking moment, but knowing she was being brainwashed didn't make it any easier to resist.
Giving up, she went to her closet and grabbed the longest skirt she could still find. It barely covered Bonnie's cunt, even when she was standing ramrod-straight, but that would simply have to do; she needed to get moving if she wanted to stand any chance of saving her friend from the same fate that was slowly, inexorably claiming her. Bonnie knew she was getting weaker by the day, probably even by the hour--she already had a harder and harder time remembering what the voice said to her while she drifted into the spiral and edged herself stupid, and it was only the shock of realizing the magnitude of her betrayal that had snapped Bonnie out of her fugue state this time. Within a few more days....
She'd have to wipe Claire's chat history, she realized. Clear that link out of the phone, empty out the cache and cookies on the browser so that every trace of it was expunged, and then... oh jeez. She wouldn't have to tell Claire to block her, would she? No, that was too terrible to contemplate. No, she'd tell her friend that her phone had a computer virus and she shouldn't trust any links that came from it, and hope to hell that an hour or so with the hypnosis file had left her so confused and gullible that Bonnie could fill her brain with any kind of vaguely plausible nonsense and she'd buy it. And that her subconscious hadn't already memorized the URL for later sessions of helpless edging the way Bonnie's had. Her fingers itched with the desire to play with herself again despite the shot of adrenaline that was keeping her focused.
She slipped into her most comfortable pair of shoes and tottered for the door, still walking a little clumsily in the six-inch platform heels. God, she was going to be paying off her credit cards for months, but the pulse of pleasure Bonnie felt every time she saw herself in the mirror made it impossible to hold onto any real anxieties about her financial future. The website's owner... her owner, she thought with a sigh of drowsy rapture that made her clit throb with arousal... no doubt had some good ideas on how to take care of it. And her. God, Bonnie wanted someone to tell her what to do so badly now.
