The Trance Tunnel

I see the name of the ride on the map of the amusement park, and I blush immediately. I wonder if other people find it strange. Perhaps it's just another thrill ride to them. Certainly sounds more thrilling than any love tunnel. I try not to let on that I want to go there. I mean, I do, I really do. But I'm not sure I can do it with my friends around. Maybe I could laugh it off. I mean, how hypnotic could it really be?

After a few rides and a few drinks we arrive at that corner of the park. And my friends agree that it would be a fun thrill ride. We brave the line, while I try to hide how excited I am, and when we reach the ride, the carriages turn out to be small. One person at the time. Overjoyed that I don't have to hide my feelings during the ride, I go first, figuring that will give me time to compose myself before they get off the ride too.

The seat is reclined; as the bar over my legs falls into place, immobilising me, I'm staring up at the words "Trance Tunnel" above the entrance of the tunnel. There are no armrests, the only way to comfortably sit is to let my arms hang by my sides. I swallow in nervous anticipation. With a low rumble, I start to roll into the tunnel, and I hold my breath. A psychedelic light show projects moving patterns of colours across the smooth walls and the domed ceiling. Slow carnival music plays from hidden boxes, the melody spiralling in sync with the colours and shapes on the ceiling.

As I'm carried through the winding tunnel, I'm becoming dizzy and lightheaded. My body feels heavy, too heavy to move my head or even lift my hand into my lap. The colours and the music wash over me, washing my thoughts away. It's delicious, I revel in it. This is a ride in an amusement park, it's designed for this. I am supposed to let the lights and the music entrance me, there is no reason to resist any of it.

I stare at the pretty colours, my eyes heavy-lidded and my mouth hanging open, as the carriage rolls deeper into the tunnel, deeper into trance. And there really is no way to resist, the colours move and the music plays in ways that I would be unable to shut out even if I wanted to. The carriage inexorably carries me deeper, and the bar holds me in place while my mind is lulled to sleep. No more thoughts, no more will, only the colours and the music.

I'm only vaguely aware when the carriage takes another turn and comes to a halt. For a moment, I just sit there, dazed and motionless. And then the bar lifts. A hand takes mine, and a voice tells me stand up. I sway on my feet as I comply, my vision still bleary with echoes of the pretty lights. The hand tugs and I follow, shambling slowly. I am led to a door, the hand opens it for me and I stumble into a small room, hardly bigger than a toilet cubicle. The door closes behind me, and I almost start to think about where I am, and why.

Then, the pretty colours and the music resume, inside this small room, surrounding me, engulfing me. I sway with the rhythm and all my questions are washed away. As my mind becomes more blank, something is happening in my body too. The heaviness gives way to warmth. And arousal. My arms start to move as the arousal makes my back arch and my hips buck. My hands start to peel away my clothes.

As my hands start to touch myself, my crotch, my nipples, I can't grasp what's happening. My chin sinks down onto my chest and I'm unable to keep my eyes open any longer. My hands masturbate, in time with the music. My legs tremble, weak. I sag, one shoulder against the wall. Are the walls closing in on me? I can't think. I'm just so horny and entranced.

Something touches my forehead. It pushes and positions my head upright. The soft vibrations are soothing, smoothing out my blank mind. Something touches my back and under my armpits, supporting me, holding me upright. And the music keeps lulling me deeper, dragging me deeper, into mindless masturbation.

Something tells me the pleasure is making me more open, more suggestible, more ready to be brainwashed. Something tells me that while I stroke and rub away my will, the music and the vibrations are changing me, programming me, relentlessly. But I really am too far gone to understand any of that. Or to wonder about the amusement park ride. Does every person on the ride get taken to a cubicle? Or is that only for those who were deeply entranced by the tunnel? What do the people who work there, helping entranced guests from carriages into cubicles, know about this process? All questions that don't even occur to me as I stroke myself into oblivion.