Hypnotizing

[littlest-lily]

Still working on OotE part 3 (plus another lil secret project…), but I was finding myself wanting to take breaks from the fluff and the angst and work on this side story that um… let’s just say it’s decidedly not a slow burn. I hope you enjoy this bit of self indulgent smut You can expect dubcon, lil bit of foot stuff, lil bit of mouth stuff, lots of handhelds and shrinking, including micro sizes.

Chapter 1

I can feel my eyes cross as we enter the second hour of my Macroeconomics class. I’ve heard enough about real versus nominal GDP to last me a lifetime and yet, we’re still here. My professor’s actually doing a decent job at sounding enthusiastic, it’s not his fault that the subject is as dull as all get-out. It also doesn’t help that this class runs until 6pm and all I can think about is which of the many fast food options I’ll be stopping by on the way back to my dorm.

One of my hands lingers around my shoulder, fidgeting as usual. I’m wearing an oversized hoodie so my fingers only barely poke out of their sleeve, fiddling with the end of one of my braids. At least it’s a change of pace from twirling my pencil or my habit of meticulously examining the little details of my environment, but the boredom is a tough contender nevertheless.

Ten minutes later, after having completely escaped into the slightly more interesting world of my own brain, I almost jump out of my seat at the sudden sound of a chair being pulled back right next to me. Who the hell is showing up to class with only thirty minutes left? I glance over to my left and almost choke on my own spit.

Ryder Gatlin. The man, the myth, the legend himself. This guy is pretty much a school celebrity. Swim team star. Campus heartthrob. Future billionaire, probably. I’m only saying that because I happen to know he comes from money, and with all his other talents there’s no way he won’t succeed in life. Even if he’s apparently the farthest thing from punctual - he has enough confidence and charm that it doesn’t matter. Our professor does little more than shoot him a mildly disapproving look, hardly pausing at all in the lesson.

I curse inwardly even though on the outside I’m giving the latecomer a quick, friendly smile. Ryder returns the silent greeting, his sky blue eyes locking right into mine. I quickly look back down at my notes, picking my pencil up with renewed vigor, but I don’t pay any more attention to the class than I did a minute ago. I’m now far too distracted by the dominating presence of the tall, handsome, laid-back man to my left. I hate the effect that he has on me. It makes me feel so… basic. I frown down at my notebook, feigning concentration, as I adamantly scold myself for giving any shits about this guy.

He’s not even taking notes or anything. He just sits back in his chair, staring politely at the professor up front with a gentle smile on his face. Not that I’m able to tell whether he’s actually smiling or not - I’m concentrating on my notes, remember? But he always has that smile. Like he knows something the rest of us don’t, just the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth. It drives me insane in more ways than one.

The next half hour is agony, not to mention a complete waste of time since I’m not absorbing any of the lesson. Six o’clock finally rolls around and at long last we’re dismissed. I snatch my backpack up from the floor and stand up to start packing my things away.

I’m interrupted by a smooth, rich voice. “Hey.”

Sigh… Of course. My shoulders stiffen but I don’t stop moving, unzipping a pocket to tuck my writing utensils into. I give him a cursory glance.

"What’s up?” I ask.

“I’m trying to remember your name… Isabella?” His voice has this quiet strength to it, like the purr of a tiger. Commanding my attention even as I try to focus on my stuff.

“No ‘a’. Just Isabelle," I respond.

“Ah, that’s right. I’m Ryder.”

I finally pause long enough to look at him straight on. My heart flutters in my chest. The dark copper of his hair contrasts so beautifully against the blue of his eyes. I’m actually jealous of it. I happen to have almost the exact same shade of brown hair, but my eyes are so dark they’re almost black. Nowhere near as striking as his.

“Yeah, I know," I tell him, "We’ve had a couple of classes together.”

“Have we? All the better.”

I try to ignore the painful pang in my chest at the knowledge that he hardly seems to remember me at all, despite this not being our first conversation by a long shot. Meanwhile I remember the exact spot he normally sat at in all four of the classes I’ve been in with him. Ugh, how pathetic is that…

“Listen, do you think you could help me out, Isabelle?" he continues, “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I was really delayed getting here today. Think you could help me catch up on that first half of the lesson?”

He actually missed quite a bit more than the first half. But whatever. “Um… I don’t have enough time now, I was needing to head home to–”

“Not right now," Ryder says with a hint of amusement, as if what I’d said was ridiculous. “Tonight. Go have some dinner, fuel up. Meet me at my dorm room in an hour?"

Fucking… what?

I’m too stunned to notice where he pulls a piece of paper from, but it’s suddenly in his hand and he sets it down in front of me on the desk. Then he bends down to grab his own backpack and sling it over one shoulder.

“Appreciate it. See you then, Isabelle."

I stare after him, completely dumbfounded as he turns and strolls right out of the room. What the hell just happened? I look down at the scrap of paper in front of me and, sure enough, there’s the name of one of the on-campus dorms and a room number. I actually have to sit back down, even as everyone else has been filtering out of the class, so that I can pick up the paper and feel that it’s real. He didn’t even leave his phone number or any other kind of information.

There’s no way he’s inviting me over to study. I mean, right? But the alternative makes even less sense. I’m not the type of girl who randomly gets invited by a classmate for a booty call. Put aside my mud-colored eyes or the fact that I lack a thigh gap, but I’m about as mousy as they come. I don’t exactly ooze confidence nor the air of someone who sleeps around. Why would Ryder Gatlin have any interest in a girl like me, especially if he believes we’ve barely met? Honestly, maybe it makes more sense if he really does just want to study.

But also, what makes him think I’ll take him up on this?? I have shit to do! I have my own homework. The fact that he thinks I would just drop any evening plans and be ready to meet up with him in an… hour? It’s ludicrous.

My shoulders droop as I suddenly think of another explanation. This could just be some sort of mean prank. A hot, popular guy reaching out to a shy, bookish girl? I can already picture it in my mind’s eye… I show up. Knock on the door. Some random dude answers it, looking confused. Ryder’s there with a bunch of his buds and acts like he has no idea who I am, and they all have a good laugh about it as they mock the idea that someone like me thought she had any kind of chance with someone like him.

This is so stupid. I need to get home. I finally finish grabbing my things and hurry out of the classroom. I head in the exact opposite direction of the dorm that’s scribbled on the paper I still have in my hand, now crushed into a misshapen ball. I feel like I’m walking through a dream. I hardly taste my chicken sandwich and I find myself absently checking the time every few minutes. My mind keeps harassing me with the question “But what if…?”

I check the time once more right as I step into the front lobby of my own dorm building. Ten minutes until seven. Ryder’s dorm is a ten minute walk. The doors of opportunity are closing quickly, and that honestly should be a relief. I need to move on, get started on my Data Analysis homework, forget about all of this nonsense. It might be a bit awkward the next time I see him in class, but I could easily tell him that I had previously scheduled plans that I didn’t immediately think of in the moment and wasn’t able to make it. He couldn’t even blame me for not letting him know since he didn’t give me any contact information. I just need to walk over to that elevator and go back to my room and…

Who the fuck am I kidding.

I wasn’t quite in control of myself when I turned and marched right back out the front doors. Once I’m outside, I take a deep breath in to steady myself. God, I feel so stupid right now, but I’m just too damn curious. I start power walking across the north end of campus as the sun begins to set, my mind buzzing with nonsensical thoughts that do little good in talking any sense into me. I double check that I still have pepper spray in my purse, and I text a couple of friends to let them know exactly where I’m headed. Out of all the outcomes that could come of this, I highly doubt that getting murdered by such a high-profile student in his own dorm room is at all likely. But one can never be too careful.

I’ve never been in this building before, and as I step inside I quickly gather why that is… I think this is an all-male dorm. Lovely. As if I didn’t already feel out of place. Not only that but the glass door leading in to the rooms themselves is protected by a card reader. How does he expect me to come to his room without helping me get past the lobby first? This is another sign that I shouldn’t be here, I should just turn around and forget about all this. But apparently I’ve left all of my good judgment back in that classroom an hour ago.

There’s enough traffic going in and out of the doors that I’m able to sneak through without too much trouble, despite clearly not belonging here. None of the men around me seem to take much notice of me, to my infinite relief. Maybe it’s not uncommon for female students to sneak in to meet up with their boyfriends or something. Which is not at all what I’m doing, I remind myself.

I decided on the way here that I would at least pretend at first that I really did only come to study and then… I’ll see how things go. After going up two flights of stairs I find the right room number and, without giving myself any time to reconsider this, I knock.

Immediately a voice calls out from inside. “Come in.”

This is the moment that I hesitate. I stare at the doorknob for a couple of seconds. I’m not even really considering turning back at this point, the fact that I’ve made myself known makes that feel like it’s not an option anymore. It’s more like I’m bracing myself. For what, I’m not really sure but… whew. Here goes.

[Olo]

This post is deleted!

[Olo]

@littlest-lily <

[littlest-lily]

@Olo I’ll admit… I have no idea what this comment means

[Olo]

@littlest-lily Snakes are notorious for hypnotizing avian prey.

[littlest-lily]

@Olo Ohhhh I didn’t know that! Gives snake charmer a new meaning…

[miss-lillipants]

@littlest-lily said in Hypnotizing:

God, I feel so stupid right now, but I’m just too damn curious.

GIRL. College, dudes and curiosity makes for an unideal situation for cats!

[littlest-lily]

@miss-lillipants Nah nah she got pepper spray she’s fiiiine…

[littlest-lily]

Chapter 2

My muscles are all tensed up as I open the door and peer inside. Alright, no room full of dudes ready to laugh at me. Just a very standard dorm setting - two beds, two desks, a shag green rug over the fake wood floor. And there he is, sitting at one of the desks, fiddling around with something on his laptop with his back facing me.

“Perfectly on time,” says Ryder without turning around, “At least one of us is capable of being punctual.”

I stare at the back of his head while standing in his doorway. Even his haircut is perfectly trimmed, the back of his neck smoothly shaved of any stray hairs. I’ve noticed this in the past, actually, that he doesn’t seem to have much hair on his body at all. I’ve since learned that apparently it’s quite common for even men to shave their limbs and chest if they’re swimmers - I guess to eliminate any extra drag in the water. As soon as I have that thought, my eyes linger on the back of his toned calves, one of which is splayed off to the side of the chair.

“Come sit.” My host turns his head halfway to me and motions his hand towards his nearby bed in invitation. Right. His bed. Not at all awkward.

It’s still not impossible that there are cameras around if this really is a prank, so I try to appear as aloof as possible as I step inside and let the door close behind me. I notice Ryder’s shoes are lined up right next to the door, so I follow his lead and step out of my sandals, and soon I feel the thick shag carpet under my feet as I step closer.

“So how come you were so late to class?” I ask casually as I take a seat and let my backpack slide off my shoulders.

He had gone back to briefly looking at his computer before he appears to finish up, and he shuts the laptop completely. He pivots in his chair to face me head on and gives me a wide, toothy smile.

“To give me an excuse to hang out with you?” he responds, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

Fuuuck. There’s no way he’s not messing with me. But I stay as calm and collected as possible, and I roll my eyes as if we were already on friendly terms. “Joke’s on you,” I say, “You’re going to get way less out of this lesson secondhand.”

“I look forward to it.”

I just can’t get a good read on this guy. I zip my backpack open to pull out my notebook and the textbook for the class, setting them beside me onto the bed. With one hand I open up my notes. With the other I nervously run a fingertip in a circle on the bed sheet, falling back on my habit of inspecting whatever’s near me.

I glance up at him and say, “You were there for the last class, right? When we first started discussing GDP?”

He watches me with that goddamn smile, and eventually instead of answering he lifts a hand and waggles it back and forth, as if to say “ehhh.”

“Do you even remember what GDP is?” I ask with barely masked exasperation.

“Hmm… Glorious Dollar Points?”

For a moment we’re just staring at each other. I search his expression, the veritable fortress of his gaze that conveys nothing except a mild amusement. Alright. He’s no longer playing along with whatever façade we started with. I’m not going to act like an idiot.

I snap my notebook shut and narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t actually want to study, do you?”

His eyes narrow too but in a more natural way as his smile widens and becomes a little more genuine. He leans forward in his chair, staring at me with such intensity that I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

“No. I don’t,” he says.

I do my best not to squirm and blush. I’m suddenly finding myself having a hard time looking at him. “Why did you invite me over then?” I ask sheepishly.

“I want…” Ryder straightens up again so that he can sit back in his chair pensively instead. “…to get to know you a little better.”

I can’t help but laugh wryly and give him a look. “Seriously? Me?”

“Yes. You.” He crosses his arms, appearing to very much be enjoying this. “I’m curious about you.”

An odd thing to say about a girl whose name he had trouble remembering an hour ago. I sigh, convinced that he must still be messing with me for some reason, but I’m unable to resist continuing this conversation. “What do you want to know? I’m not that exciting.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I dunno… Accounting major. No real hobbies. I watch a lot of trash TV and don’t really get out all that much.”

He stares at me pointedly, and for the first time I’m seeing a shadow of a frown cross over his face. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Hide behind shit like that. You and I both know that’s not really who you are.”

I frown back. “Do we know that? What are you talking about?”

I’m starting to really think I shouldn’t be engaging with this, but then Ryder takes me by surprise as he leans forward again in his chair. “How tall are you, Isabelle?”

The question is abrupt. Weirdly casual. And yet incredibly oppressing. At least… it is to me. I balk and hesitate, a couple of quiet and confused sounds escaping the back of my throat.

“Wha… What does that have to do with anything?” I stutter.

His smile turns cocky. “You don’t want to answer me?”

My gaze crumbles to the ground like a house of cards in an earthquake. “I… I’m 5’10”…"

“That’s rather tall, isn’t it?”

I stare at my feet and mumble, “It’s… not compared to you…”

Every article I’ve seen that features him always mentions his 6’4" stature. It’s one of the reasons he’s a particularly good swimmer. Ugh, I hate that I know these odd bits of trivia about him and yet he couldn’t remember my name.

“That’s true.” To my shock, Ryder reaches his hand out, and I hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten. He’s able to reach me and touches the side of one finger just under my chin to forcefully lift my head up. He looks deep into my eyes as he asks with overflowing confidence, “Is that why you’re so taken with me?”

I jerk my face back, pulling away from him. “Excuse me?” I say with a nervous laugh, “Who said I was… Listen, just because you’re the big man on campus doesn’t mean I…”

I trail off. I feel not just confused at this point but embarrassed, and I’m getting agitated to the point of defensiveness. Meanwhile, the man sitting across from me looks completely unperturbed. He chuckles and grins as he puts his open hands up in surrender.

“Alright. Don’t worry… I like games.”

I exhale heavily and start quickly packing up my school supplies into my backpack as I grumble, “Listen, if you had me come over just so you can psychoanalyze me, I think I’ll just–”

Ryder stands up. From my position seated on the bed he looms over me easily, and I fall into silence as I blink up at him. There’s something particularly odd in the air now. I’m overcome with a weird calm. For some strange reason, I feel no inclination to move from this spot anymore.

I look up at him from around his stomach level and he smiles down at me in turn. He brings a hand to cup the side of my face. It feels intimately warm.

“Psychoanalyze you, huh? That’s not a bad idea. Let’s see…” He runs a thumb back and forth along my cheekbone with a slow, methodical rhythm. “You want to be an accountant. Maybe because you think that’s a well-paying but low-key, stable job, right? Every accounting major I’ve met wants that. Or they’re being forced into it by their parents.”

Ryder’s hand drifts down now, fingertips caressing the side of my neck. I shudder helplessly.

“You don’t share your true interests with anyone because you don’t want to stand out.”

He reaches the collar of my hoodie and gently tugs at it. He brings his other hand up too, to fiddle with my sleeve on the other side.

“You wear oversized clothing to make yourself look smaller, because you hate being taller than the average woman.”

Casually he takes the little elastic bands off the ends of my hair and starts running his fingers through the braids, softly teasing out the copper strands.

“You wear your hair in pigtails because you want to look younger and more innocent.”

Now that my hair sits unburdened just past my shoulders, Ryder seems satisfied, and a hand returns to my chin. He takes it softly, but there’s a firm dominance there as he makes me look at him.

“You want to be underestimated. To pass right under the radar. To not be seen.”

He’s starting to put a subtle pressure on my jaw, forcing me to sit up straighter.

“Only thing I’m left wondering is why that is.”

The upward force he’s putting on my chin gets to the point that I feel compelled to my feet. I don’t actually want to stand up, not now, I don’t want to be any higher. But I find some satisfaction in the fact that I still have to look up at him, and so I follow his lead and slowly rise. He’s so close. Our faces are only inches apart.

“Why do you care so much?” I whisper, my voice tight with deferential anxiety.

Ryder smiles at my demeanor. “Because you intrigue me, Isabelle. You have ever since I first saw you in that Marketing class.”

I actually gasp at this. His hand is still holding my face and I reach up to weakly grab at his wrist. “Wait… you do remember me then?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you act like you didn’t?”

He finally lets go of my jaw so that he can take my hand instead, fingers interlocking. He shrugs in response.

“Because we were in public. And if there’s one thing I’ve figured out about you it’s that you hate public attention. Remember that first time I sat next to you? I kept whispering stupid jokes for the whole hour and made you giggle every time. But then as soon as class was over and I talked just a bit too loud to invite you to lunch, you declined without hesitation and practically sprinted out of the room. Away from all the prying eyes of those who were wondering who I was talking to.”

Of course I remember this. That day was the inception of this stupid crush, and I’ve been carrying my burdensome feelings around for the past year and a half. I struggle to take in a breath and then Ryder brings me back to earth as his thumb makes soft circles against the back of my hand.

“That’s why I’m so intrigued by you,” he says with a soothing tone. “Everyone around me is constantly vying for my attention. Doing everything they can to connect with me or curry favor, or at the very least lust from a middle distance. And then, there you were. Clearly interested in me. And yet doing everything to erase herself. Trying her utmost to just… disappear.”

I feel an unexpected need to fight back tears. He’s so on point with his observations that it’s scary. And yet there’s also something bizarrely validating about it. Despite all my efforts to remove myself from his view… he still saw me. He noticed. A myriad of feelings are battling inside of me like a cyclone.

“I don’t know how to feel about all this,” I finally say quietly.

Ryder squeezes my hand, the sky blue of his eyes drawing me in. “I can help with that.”

“What do you mean–”

And we’re kissing.

[Olo]

@littlest-lily

“Glorious Dollar Points?”

It’s perfectly normal to keep a woman in mind for months or years before you’re ready to shrink her. Not that I have any personal experience with that.

[littlest-lily]

@Olo hahaha I’m glad you understand

[littlest-lily]

Chapter 3

I don’t even have time to blink before he leans forward and presses his mouth onto mine, and at first my eyes widen at the sight of his face, so close that it’s blurry. But I don’t pull away. He pushes harder against me and I hold firm, eyelashes fluttering, breath growing shallow. When he pulls away again I’m left utterly longing.

I try to fight it. Really I do. I try so hard to snap out of it and step away from this man who’s confusing me to no end.

“Ryder,” I whisper, “I… I just, I hardly know you and–”

A powerful wave of dizziness passes through me, taking a good three seconds to disorient me before it’s gone. One… Two… What… just happened? I blink, slowly and deliberately. Huh. I thought I was going to pass out for a moment there, but everything’s fine now. I feel very… very… calm.

Ryder doesn’t seem to have noticed a thing. His cheeks are the slightest bit flush from the intimacy, and he’s still holding my hands in his. He squeezes my fingers as he responds to me.

“I’d like to change that, Isabelle. Like I said, I want to get to know you. I want to discover what makes you tick. Because I have a feeling I’m going to like what I find.”

It’s like my sense of reason has drifted down a river. And I don’t just mean because of hormones. I can’t put my finger on it - it feels like a deliberate and forceful thing somehow…

I mean, okay, thoughts haven’t completely left me. I’m aware of where I am. I’m aware that this entire conversation has been intensely bizarre. I’m aware of the fact that what this man just did might even count as assault. And yet all of these buzzing thoughts are so quiet, so distant. There’s a powerful tranquility in my heart that makes me listen to him, makes me want to open up.

“I don’t know if you’re going to find anything that interesting,” I say softly, “You’ve already figured me out. You’re right, I don’t like to stand out. There isn’t some dramatic reason behind it, I wasn’t traumatized as a child or anything like that. It was just a lot of little things throughout my life, I guess. My parents had pretty high expectations of me from a young age, academically at least. I always hated when the teachers called on me, which happened often. My growth spurt happened really early so I literally stuck out. Ugh, I remember one of the boys in middle school would call me Sasquatch. So many times I wish I could just vanish.”

Ryder doesn’t interrupt me, just listens with a gentle smile on his face and then nods sympathetically when I’m done. “I see…” he says thoughtfully, “You really are hung up on your height, aren’t you?”

“I’m the tallest girl in any of my friend groups. I fell for a guy in high school who rejected me because I was taller than him. I’ve always hated how I look.”

“Well that’s a shame. Because I think you’re adorable, Isabelle. Just look at those big, dark, puppy dog eyes of yours.” He reaches both hands up to take my face in them, the blurry edges of his thumbs just in my line of sight. “You’re as cute as a squirrel. Maybe before this is over you’ll be able to see yourself through my eyes.”

I feel another weird sensation. It’s different this time, more subdued, but after a split second of vertigo I see something that makes me gasp. I’m still looking at Ryder in front of me, gazing up at his chiseled face and entrancing blue eyes. But a different image suddenly superimposes itself in my vision. As if seeing something vividly in my mind’s eye, so vividly that I question what’s real for a moment.

It’s an image of me. Dark eyes looking up in a bit of a pout, mouth slightly ajar, cheeks pink with blush. But it’s not quite like looking at myself in a mirror, it’s from a higher vantage point. And in the vision there are large hands framing the sides of my face.

I jerk back and just like that, the image is gone. I blink furiously and start rubbing at my eyes, knocking away Ryder’s hands in the process. When I cover my face so that I see nothing but darkness, I can still picture it - his face as well as my own.

“Is something wrong?” the soft male voice asks from inches away.

“N-no…” I stutter, “I’m just… I’m… I… ”

Ryder chuckles. “Use your words.”

“Something weird is happening,” I finally confess.

“I have that effect on people.”

“No, that’s not what I mean–”

I groan, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyelids. Out of nowhere my entire body grows warm for a second, a flash of heat lining every square inch of my skin. It’s over before I know it, but I’m disoriented, wavering in place. I take a step back to keep myself from falling over.

“What is it?” Ryder asks.

“I feel dizzy,” I say faintly.

“Best sit down, then.”

My hands are still over my eyes, but his hands firmly take me by the shoulders and slowly turn me around, guiding my movements and making me step backwards. I feel the desk chair against the back of my legs and plop down into it. When I pull my hands away, Ryder’s taking a seat on his bed, our positions now switched.

As I stare at him, I suddenly feel the heat overtake me once more. My entire body is warm right on my skin, and I feel like I’m moving, somehow, even though I know I’m sitting still. And then it all stops again. What is wrong with me? Between the dizziness and the heat flashes and the strange visions, I’m clearly having some very alarming symptoms. In a normal situation I’d be panicking right about now. I’d be calling a doctor, or asking for a ride to the hospital, or Googling furiously to figure out why I’m dying.

But that tranquility that’s been dominating my mind hasn’t quite left me, and I’m still unable to reason properly. All it takes is for me to look into Ryder’s eyes again to feel reassured. As if I’m just being a little silly. Clearly I’m not dying. I’m not even in pain. Everything’s fine.

There’s the heat once again. And this time I realize what that accompanying movement is. As if I was subtly shifting and thus sensing my clothes more as a result, even though I’m not budging. I feel it the most at my feet. As I sit there, warmth kissing my skin like the sun, I notice that my heels aren’t flat against the ground, in fact they’re slowly pivoting so that I’m more and more on my tiptoes. The heat dissipates and things become still, but my feet are barely touching the floor.

I frown, trying to make sense of it. I move my awareness past my legs and take a quick glance around the room. Something is so off. But the conclusion I draw makes no sense.

“Can you see this?” I ask out loud. Maybe I’m going crazy. Odd how the thought doesn’t particularly worry me.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Ryder responds, corner of his mouth ticking up.

“My feet are off the ground. They were touching the floor just a second ago."

“Huh, so they are. Wonder why that is…" His gaze is still intent on me, and then he reaches a hand out. “Come get your bearings."

His arm is long enough that I barely need to extend mine. My hand is drawn to his like a magnet. And as soon as I make contact I feel a shiver down my spine.

Except… it’s a shiver of pleasure. There’s a not-unpleasant swirling at the pit of my stomach and I worry self-consciously that my palms have started sweating. I find myself biting my lip and am acutely aware of how much I’m blushing right now. I don’t say a word, afraid of what sound might come out if I open my mouth.

Ryder’s fingers close around mine and he helps me back to my feet without standing up from the bed. I gawk at his face as I get up. God, he’s so hot. I’m so captivated that I can think of nothing else for a moment. That stirring at the base of my abdomen is unignorable at this point as I feel increasingly aroused. I know this isn’t the time, but I can’t fucking help it as something as simple as him holding my hand is driving me insane right now. The muscles between my legs tighten uncontrollably.

Finally I yank my eyes away and take a look around myself. Now that I’m standing the change is unmistakable. I’m shorter. Like… a good five or six inches shorter than I was a few minutes ago. If my sweatshirt was oversized before, I’m starting to look like a kid wearing their parent’s clothing. What… in the actual fuck…?

Holy shit, it’s happening again. As I feel the warmth fill my body, I’m able to anticipate it this time, and I watch the changes in my environment. The shelf that used to be at my chin height and had then met my eyeline is now rising to be taller than me. The carpet strands of the shaggy rug I’m standing on tickle my feet as they stretch up towards my ankles. And the butterflies in my stomach are swirling and swirling as Ryder’s hand seems to swell around my own. My face is flushing, the pleasure is insanely distracting. I let out a gasp, but it sounds more like something from an erotic film than one of distress.

The heat dissipates right as my shorts and underwear fall to the floor.

My breath comes in short as I look around wide-eyed. I’ve imagined so many times what it might be like to be shorter, but this is ridiculous. “Something’s happening, Ryder,” I choke out.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he responds, amused. He’s still holding my hand and I don’t resist him when he pulls me closer to him. I don’t even question how nonchalant he’s being. “If I had to guess, it looks like you’re only about… hmmm, maybe four… four and half feet tall? And we were just talking about how much you hated your height.”

Even though he’s sitting and I’m standing, my eye level is slightly below his. My sweatshirt is big enough to be like a dress - a rather revealing one, but it covers my butt nevertheless. Ryder lets go of my hand and instead reaches down to my leg, just under the hem of my hoodie. His fingers wrap around my bare thigh without any hesitation, and he gently begins massaging it. I’m unable to suppress the quiet moan this elicits. Despite what should probably be seen as an emergency, his touch is just so enchanting.

And then he gives my leg a tighter squeeze and it’s suddenly all so obvious. Right as he puts on the pressure, I feel a wave of heat and I lose another inch or two right then and there.

“Starting to see why we’re compatible?” Ryder asks with a smirk.

I blink at him, bewildered. “You’re doing this, aren’t you?” I confront.

His smirk becomes a grin. “Busted.”

“You’re doing something to my brain,” I say, short of breath from my cocktail of apprehension and arousal. “You’re making me okay with this even though I shouldn’t be.”

“‘Making you’ is a little strong. It’s all within you, Isabelle. I’m just helping it come to the surface.”

I shake my head in weak protest. Finding my words is like grasping at smoke. “No, that… that’s not…”

And there’s that influx of calm. As if a dose of anesthetics was being pumped straight into my veins, immediately sedating the rising fear. I can’t think straight, but that doesn’t seem to really matter right now. There’s nothing to worry about. Ryder’s here with me, everything’s alright.

He’s massaging my thigh again and I manage to stay on my feet despite feeling weak in the knees. My chest heaves under the heavy weight of my shirt and hoodie. And I’m slowly shrinking again, I’m warm and I’m wet and I’m gasping for air. As I lose height, his comparatively growing hand, despite staying level, naturally makes its way higher up my leg, under the edge of my clothes. The fingers open up as I dwindle, ready to gently catch my descending rear. He feels me up, and now I’m seeing the signs of lust in his eyes. My hands clench into fists at my side as I put all of my energy into the simple act of standing upright under the force of all the other sensations crashing down over me like the ocean.

After a few moments of fondling and caressing, Ryder switches gears. His hand traces along the side of my hip, he slips it between my legs, and then smoothly inserts his middle finger inside me. I gasp and sigh and moan, squeezing my eyes shut as my body contracts. Even though it’s just one finger, I can feel it expanding and all of my muscles are tightening around it. The digit curls in, pleasuring me with a confident ease. Despite the tranquility that’s covering me like a weighted blanket, my heart is racing as the ecstasy builds and builds.

“Let’s see if we can peel back some of those layers,” the growing man murmurs, “Uncover the real you… Will you come on this journey with me?”

I open my eyes and look up at him - yes, I’m having to look way up despite him sitting on his bed - and he’s wearing a cocky smirk.

“Get it?” he says, hand squeezing, “Come?”

I yelp as I release, my juices flooding his generous fingers, the warmth no longer from the shrinking effect but from my own overwhelming lustful flame. My knees finally give out.

[Olo]

@littlest-lily

When possible, imprinting her shrinking experience with arousal and release is the best way to acclimate her to your custody. @MightyTinyGiant likes to use it, particularly for dubcon encounters.

“Get it?” he says, hand squeezing, “Come?”

Tsk. I feel like Hannibal Lecter criticizing Ryder’s banter, botching a well-executed seduction with that junior-high-grade innuendo.

[littlest-lily]

@Olo Best way to brainwash her you mean hehehehe

And don’t worry, you can totally make fun of him (and my meager attempts to make him sound young and dumb lol). If Isabelle had been in her right mind she absolutely would have rolled her eyes at that, crush or no crush

[miss-lillipants]

@littlest-lily said in Hypnotizing:

meager attempts to make him sound young and dumb lol

I think you’re doing a great job channelling obnoxious college dude. Like it’s making me uneasy. But I am hooked, very curious as to where this will go!