Kasey awakens gradually, and only with the greatest of reluctance; she's enjoying everything about the drowsy, timeless moment she's experiencing, and it seems almost unfair to ask her to open her eyes when she's finally getting to know what it feels like to be asleep while she's awake enough to enjoy it. But eventually she manages to lever her drooping eyelids into some semblance of wakefulness and look up at Macy, who's looking back down at her with an expression of adoring affection on her ruddy pink features. "Do you know what happened, Kase?" Macy asks.

For a long, bewildering moment, Kasey genuinely doesn't. There's this blissful void inside her head where thought and memory should be, as if she's so comfortable lying in Macy's lap with the other woman's hand resting companionably on her pale forehead that she doesn't even want to consider anything else about the world. But then, like finding the corner piece to a jigsaw puzzle, something about the way she's looking up at Macy through sagging, fluttering eyelids brings it home to her and she murmurs, "You... you hypnotized me."

It should come out as an accusation. Kasey's still fuzzy on the details, but she knows that Macy didn't exactly mention in advance that she was going to be lulling her new bandmate into a loose and muzzy trance on the ratty old couch in the back of Macy's garage. She doesn't even really know Macy all that well; Kasey only joined Crazy Daisy about three weeks ago, the last member of the band Macy was putting together, and it was really just a mistake in reading the schedule that put the two of them together without any of the rest of the group around. It was so--so presumptuous of her to assume that Kasey would be comfortable being hypnotized....

But it was also true, and Kasey's words tumble from her lips in the meek, simpering murmur of a child with a crush on her teacher. That feels significant too, like an edge piece leading directly from the corner, and so does the comfortable warmth washing over her as Macy strokes her forehead with those warm, callused fingers and purrs, "Yes I did, Kasey. And you went very deep for me, didn't you? You let yourself relax into a blissful trance and you went very deep like a good girl."

That doesn't exactly sound like a question, or if it is it's a question that already answered itself, but every time Kasey's brow begins to furrow in consternation Macy's fingers are right there to smooth it back into untroubled relaxation. She does recall a vague sense of thinking less and less as the trance went on, her internal narrative going silent for longer and longer stretches as Macy coaxed her into imagining a tide of subtle indolence gradually rising to cover her mind with every new wave of pleasure... was that what depth was? She doesn't know, but her mouth seems to have made the decision to agree for her. "Yes. I went very deep like a good girl."

Those words... oof. They hit surprisingly hard, buzzing in Kasey's head like a shot of whiskey and filling in just enough of the puzzle inside her mind to give her a glimpse of the image gradually beginning to assemble itself. There's an undeniable power to the phrase 'good girl', to hearing it but even more to admitting it, and Kasey finds herself craving that sense of praise and validation she gets out of accepting that role for herself. She wants to be a good girl. It feels good to be a good girl. Those are thoughts she remembers from her trance, even though she also remembers not thinking at all, and trying to puzzle out that paradox makes her eyes roll back in confusion in an unnervingly familiar way.

But Macy only smiles wider. "That's right!" she coos, stroking Kasey's cheek possessively. "You went very deep like a good girl. Tell me, good girl, do you remember what we talked about while you were hypnotized?" At first, the answer is almost an automatic no--of course Kasey doesn't remember, there's nothing to remember, she just relaxed in Macy's lap and enjoyed going deep. But then....

But then she looks up into Macy's deep brown eyes. The same eyes that captivated her and lulled her into soft, sleepy lassitude before she even understood she was being hypnotized. The eyes that keep catching and holding her attention now, while she lies in the other woman's lap and enjoys the heavy sensation in her still-drowsy body. And it's almost... it's almost like she's being given permission to remember. Like on some level she already knows exactly what Macy wants her to say. "We talked about how good it feels," she mumbles. "To be a good girl."

The moment she says it, Kasey doesn't know how she could possibly have forgotten. It's not just true, it's intensely and achingly true, a bone-deep and fundamental part of her identity even though she also knows it never so much as occurred to her before she found herself slumping lazily into Macy's lap as her thoughts faded into the warm lethargy of trance. She wants to be a good girl and it feels good to be a good girl. It makes total sense to her now. Total, perfect--

"And whose good girl do you want to be?" Macy asks, the question dropping onto Kasey's train of thought like a redwood falling on train tracks. Almost immediately, she can find herself contemplating nothing but the singular notion of whose praise, whose approval stirs that sensation of erotic delight in her mind and her body... and of course there's no other answer. Every piece of a puzzle only connects to the pieces around it, there's nowhere else they can fit. Even though Kasey thought she was straight when she walked in here, even though she's barely exchanged maybe twenty words with the other woman that weren't about music, Kasey's desire to submit leads her to a single inevitable answer and every nerve tingles with the anticipation of releasing it.

"Yours," she whimpers, and her voice trembles with the absolute rapture she feels on discovering that truth inside herself. No, not discovering, she realizes--it's uncovering, it's finding out something she already knew and had merely forgotten. She's putting together the pieces, but the design she's following was laid out right there on the front of the box for her to follow, and every new and exciting truth she learns about herself is just something her unconscious mind has learned and accepted on a deep and fundamental level.

It's so exciting to realize she's got all these new and wonderful truths to uncover about herself that Kasey finds herself squirming lightly on the couch, her body lost in sleepy arousal as she lies there with her head resting between Macy's soft, pillowy thighs. She can't wait to learn more about the fascinating secrets buried in her unconscious mind, brought to the surface in such a delightful fashion by Macy's questions, and her fingers twitch with the desire to masturbate when she hears Macy ask, "And what kind of good girl are you, sweetie?"

"Hhhhhh...." The swell of arousal that bubbles up from Kasey's unconscious is so powerful that her throat closes up before she can get more than the first rudimentary sound out, and it's no good--she has to satisfy that itch just a tiny bit before she's able to speak. She rubs her pussy, momentarily confused by the lack of any fabric between fingers and cunt, but the question of what happened to her clothing feels distant and irrelevant compared to the question Macy asked and with the pleasure finally flowing she's able to get out the rest of the sentence. "Horny. I'm your horny good girl."

Saying it makes Kasey's clit feel it's swollen to the size of a towering erection, even though intellectually she knows it's barely peeking out from between her slick pink pussy lips. She just... ohh, fuck, she doesn't know why it wasn't immediately obvious the moment she met Macy, why she didn't peel off her clothes the second she saw the other woman and drop to her knees to offer her masturbation like a gift to a goddess. Submission, hypnosis, obedience, they all make Kasey so incredibly horny, and she can't imagine any reason why she would possibly want to fight those urges now that she knows them for what they are. Every single piece is falling into place now, and it's just perfect.

And it's perfect for Macy, too. Kasey can smell it now, the thick and heady scent of pussy wafting up from just underneath her heavy, drowsy head, and it stirs her fingers to new and breathless urgency against her own swollen clit. She's so turned on she almost doesn't notice the next question, "And what do horny good girls do, pet?" But she's gotten very good at listening and responding while her mind is elsewhere, and the answer just spills out without any real intention or thought on her part.

"Oh, obey, they ohhhh... obey," she mewls, her mind fully consumed by arousal and ecstasy now. The puzzle is almost complete, the pieces falling into place almost faster than she can think about putting them together, and she's thrilled to see the picture they're rapidly unveiling--she's an obedient good girl, a horny lesbian slut for Macy, and she wants nothing more than to submit and surrender to the infinite depths of Macy's hypnotic control. She's going to keep sinking deeper, each and every time she slumps into trance for her new Goddess, and every time the pleasure will reinforce her subjugation until there's no way out. Oh. Oh fuck it's so good.

There's only one piece remaining to the puzzle, and it falls into place when Macy asks her, "And just what does that make you, sweetie? What is a horny, obedient good girl to her Goddess, mm?" It's such a leading question, but by this point Kasey is desperate to be led--her whole body aches with the need for climax, every single nerve ending alive with the kind of pleasure she'd never even imagined before today, and intuitively she understands that the moment she slots that final piece into place and sees the full picture of her new and perfected self she's going to cum harder than she's ever cum in her goddamn life.

And it's right there. And it's so beautiful. It's practically shining inside Kasey's head, glowing with brilliant rapture and so utterly enticing that the thought of resistance doesn't even occur to her. That word has simply been erased from her memory by pleasure, eroded by countless repetitions of this exact method of conditioning, and it's only now at the moment of her culminating release that Kasey realizes she's been lying on this couch for hours now. Macy is being remorselessly thorough in ensuring the subjugation of her latest convert, and Kasey can understand why--half the fun of a jigsaw puzzle is taking it all apart and putting it back together again.

So when she accepts that final truth, moaning out, "slave, i'm your slave," over and over as her body thrashes in orgasm, Kasey knows it's not the end of her brainwashing. She's fully aware that when she cums herself into limp and helpless exhaustion, wrung out by her climax until she's nothing more than a sleepy ragdoll on Macy's lap, her Goddess will guide her deeper and deeper into trance until her empty mind is fully open and receptive to every bit of programming Macy wants to pour into it. She's being turned into Macy's submissive lesbian slut, and the point where she even wanted to fight it went past ages ago.

And once she finally does wake up, not all these false awakenings concealing a continuous state of hypnosis but a true emergence from trance... Kasey's going to be owned. Every piece of her programming will be fixed and unyielding, unable to be rearranged into any other design, and Kasey will be overjoyed to do whatever Goddess commands. Fucking her fellow bandmates, seducing them one by one into Macy's unbreakable control--it won't trouble her at all. Because she's a good girl and good girls obey.

But she can already feel that understanding fading from her drowsy mind, replaced with the comforting warmth of oblivion, and her eyelids slip shut as she sinks back down beneath the encroaching tides of placid, drifting obedience to Macy's will.

THE END