[Summary: The first script of the second iteration of the Heavy Prey series, exploring common hypnotic tropes. The titles are indicative of the content being explored.]
This is part of a series exploring some of the common hypnotic tropes that I find fun or interesting.
Unlike other series, they aren't interconnected. Parts of the scripts will feel very similar, due to the nature of the situations depicted. That will, I hope, make it easier to transition from one to another if you are exploring your own interests.
The title should make it clear which topic/trope is being explored. Let's begin.
Let’s talk about fear.
As survival instincts go, it’s fairly straightforward. You perceive something, your brain recognizes it as a threat, your body is primed to react. That’s where the situation grows somewhat more complicated. Instincts begin to vary – are you primed for fight or flight? Or does your brain lock up with indecision, making you freeze instead?
The reality is that none of these things are fixed, nothing is set in stone, every scenario permits a different, distinct, outcome. So, let’s play with the parameters a little bit; we both know you’ve got a thing for certain sorts of villains.
Because, of course, fear runs parallel to arousal, given the proper circumstances. You perceive something, your brain recognizes it as a threat, your body is primed to react…just like before, only there’s a second mental circuit happening, sometimes simultaneously: between the recognition and the reaction, a semi-conscious self-sabotage that funnels fragments of the fear response into lust. You see a familiar, favorite monster, and you get horny.
This could be a problem if you had a sudden need to run, couldn’t it? Brains are funny things, but very rarely are they quite this counterintuitive. Of course, there’s no way you’d be getting aroused if the stimuli were real. Part of your brain is aware that you’re not in actual danger…isn’t it?
Or perhaps there’s a tiny bit of you that leans into that self-sabotage. Something slightly askew about your instinct, subverting your sense of self-preservation because underneath all the theory…you want to be the prey.
Now the truly delicious question is, does that desire to be prey depend at all on the predator in question? Do you have enough time to process and identify before your body starts to react inappropriately to the premise?
For example, consider the consequence of an inconspicuous creaking sound in the room with you. It wasn’t this dark a moment ago, was it? But we both know curiosity will get the better of you, and you’ll turn to find a caped figure.
Normally it would strike you as strange, the lack of a discernible shape beneath the cloak, as if your visitor has the substance of condensed shadow. But you don’t have the kind of time needed to make an astute observation like that, because you’ve fixated immediately on the two most relevant features of your guest: eyes…and fangs.
Eyes that are equal parts imposing and inviting, with a subtle (and entirely unnatural) glow. In the back of your mind, you’ve already decided that this is a vampire. But…
“Vampires have to be invited in, don’t they? That’s correct, my dear, but nothing stops me from a simple projection.”
The voice presents you with no sense of distance or direction; rather, it sounds like a whisper in your ear, almost like the words are being poured, liquid-like, into your head. Yet you continue to catch yourself starting to focus on those eyes. Which, conveniently, keeps you from noticing the goosebumps forming along your arms and a subtle sense of something…dread, or perhaps…
“The word you’re looking for is hunger, little one. It’s nothing to fear, don’t you agree?”
You feel yourself nodding, though you can’t be certain it was your idea. Your visitor’s eyes are piercing, and you finally feel you understand what that notion is meant to explain; your body is tense, frozen, muscles unwilling – or unable – to do more than meaninglessly twitch. There’s a will behind those eyes and the longer you meet that transfixing gaze, the more it becomes clear that the stranger’s will is overpowering yours with little more effort than squeezing a stuffed toy.
“I could be a traditionalist and insist that you invite me inside, but instead I’d like to share a little secret…listen closely. There is a point, rapidly approaching, when you’ve gazed into my eyes long enough, held the awareness of me in your head long enough, felt my presence long enough, that you may as well be summoning me.”
Recall that sense of self-preservation? It’s very quiet right now, isn’t it? This tiny little voice suggesting that you should really, really look away before it is too late. But a much larger segment of your conscious is concerned with understanding the source of the glow.
“Now that I think about it, why don’t we do this the old-fashioned way?” if you could look away, you’d catch the glint of the light on the fangs of your new ‘friend.’ “You’d like to invite me in.”
The words echo from your lips automatically, and the shadows coalesce within the cloak. You have just long enough to wonder if the vampire is growing taller, before the additional -presence- behind the eyes pins you – and every thought in your head – like an insect.
“That’s better, isn’t it? It’s always refreshing to find someone so willing to be enthralled, saves me a great deal of time. You’re happy to help, my dear.”
Again, the words leave your mouth reflexively, only now you are also struck by how true they’ve become: you -are- happy to help, it’s all you can think about. You feel a smile creeping involuntarily across your lips.
“But of course, I’m not here to chat. I’m here because you are going to serve me. But first, you’d very much like to feed me.”
Obviously, you’re going to serve your new Master. That has been a foregone conclusion for…as long as you can remember, now. But a tiny spark of fear flows through your veins at the idea of feeding…
“Shh, there’s nothing to fear.”
There’s nothing to fear. Your smile widens.
“You see, little puppet, you’ll barely feel a thing.” Your head tilts, eyes remaining locked with this most precious predator until the last possible fraction of a second.
You do feel a sort of pinch, as the two fangs puncture, but that is rapidly washed away by a tingling – almost burning – sensation coursing through your entire body. The fangs don’t have venom, per se, but you feel all the frozen tension evaporate from your body and your muscles melt into a limp puddle. The vampire’s hand on the back of your neck is the only thing preventing you from collapsing onto the floor…which you might know, but the brief burning sensation has given way to this pulsing, consuming need.
You need to feed them. You need to surrender. You need to be their prey. You need to serve. These ideas start to lose coherency as you grow weaker, uncertain whether the vampire feeds on your blood or simply every ounce of your will, your mind, your control. But it doesn’t matter.
The words fade into impulses, vague notions that replace your instincts. Their grip adjusts and their fangs sink deeper and need gives way to ecstasy.
“Yes, that’s it.” The words are in your head again, echoing freely. “Surrender to me, fall under my spell. Embrace me, submit to my kiss.”
The words seem to repeat forever as the world goes dark, and “submit to the vampire’s kiss” is the last thing you remember as you begin to drift awake, some time later. There is no trace of your visitor aside from the slightest sensation of soreness on the side of your neck. Was it a dream?
Does that matter, if you invited the vampire into your mind?
Time will tell.