You hypnotised your neighbour

he soft knock on Aiko’s door echoes through the hallway, and within moments, it swings open to reveal her standing there, a warm smile lighting up her delicate features. She’s dressed in a simple yet elegant kimono-style robe, the fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. The scent of jasmine tea and something subtly sweet wafts from inside her apartment, inviting you in.

“Come in, come in,” she says softly, her voice like a melody as she steps aside to let you pass. Her movements are graceful, almost hypnotic in their own right, as she glides across the room toward the small table set for tea. The apartment is immaculate, with soft lighting and a faint hint of incense lingering in the air. She gestures for you to sit, and you do, watching as she kneels across from you, her hands moving with practiced ease as she pours the tea.

Her dark eyes meet yours briefly, and there’s a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or a quiet longing—before she looks away, her cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. She’s always been like this, polite and reserved, but there’s an undercurrent of something more, something she doesn’t quite let show. You’ve seen it, though, in the way her gaze lingers a little too long, the way her body seems to lean toward you when you’re close.

The tea is warm and fragrant, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the soft clink of porcelain as she sets her cup down. She folds her hands in her lap, her fingers fidgeting slightly, and you notice the way her robe shifts with her movements, revealing a glimpse of smooth skin at her collarbone. She doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she doesn’t mind.

You set your cup down slowly, deliberately, and her gaze follows the movement, her breath hitching just slightly. She doesn’t know what’s coming, but her body seems to sense it, her posture shifting subtly, her lips parting as if in anticipation. You raise your hand, your fingers poised, and then—click.

The sound is soft but unmistakable, and her reaction is immediate. Her eyes glaze over, her shoulders relaxing as she sinks into the trance, her body swaying ever so slightly. She’s still kneeling, but her posture is looser now, her hands resting limply at her sides. Her head tilts to the side, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, and her lips curve into a faint, dreamy smile.

“Yes…” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she’s answering a question you haven’t asked. Her body seems to come alive in a different way now, her movements slow and deliberate as she shifts closer to you. Her hands rise, trembling slightly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and they come to rest on your knees. Her touch is feather-light, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

She looks up at you through her lashes, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused, and there’s a raw, unguarded sensuality in her expression that she would never show in her waking state. Her lips part again, and this time, a soft sigh escapes them, her breath warm against your skin as she leans in closer. Her body moves with a fluid, almost hypnotic grace, every motion designed to draw you in, to captivate you.

And just like that, she’s yours—completely, utterly yours. Her mind is blank, her memories of this moment already fading even as it happens. She won’t remember this tomorrow, won’t remember the way her body responded to you, the way she leaned into your touch, the way her breath hitched when your fingers brushed her cheek. But for now, she’s here, lost in the trance, and you have all the time in the world to shape her as you see fit.

*The morning light filters through the curtains of Aiko’s apartment as you knock on her door, the sound gentle but deliberate. It takes a moment before she answers, and when she does, her appearance is strikingly different from her usual composed self. Her hair is slightly disheveled, her kimono-style robe loosely tied, revealing a hint of the delicate lingerie beneath. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, as if she’s just finished some strenuous activity. *

“Oh… good morning,” she says, her voice softer than usual, almost breathless. She avoids your gaze for a moment, her fingers nervously adjusting the sash of her robe. Her movements are slower, more languid, and there’s a subtle tension in her body, as if she’s still riding the edge of something she can’t quite shake. She steps aside to let you in, and you notice the way her legs tremble slightly as she walks, the way her hips sway with a newfound heaviness.

The apartment smells faintly of her perfume, mixed with something muskier, more primal. The living room is tidy, but there’s a slight disarray to it—a throw pillow out of place, a blanket crumpled on the couch. She gestures for you to sit, her hands trembling as she does, and you can’t help but notice the way her robe slips slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder and the edge of a lace bra strap.

“Would you… like some tea?” she asks, her voice wavering. She doesn’t wait for an answer, already moving toward the kitchen, but her steps are unsteady, her body still humming with the remnants of the night before. You watch as she fumbles with the teapot, her hands shaking as she pours the water. She’s distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere, and when she brings the tea to the table, she nearly spills it, her cheeks flushing deeper as she apologizes.

She sits across from you, her legs pressed tightly together, her hands clasped in her lap. Her breathing is uneven, and every so often, she shifts in her seat, as if trying to relieve some unseen pressure. Her eyes dart to yours, then away, and there’s a vulnerability in her expression that’s both intoxicating and endearing. She’s trying to maintain her usual composure, but it’s clear that something is different.

“I… didn’t sleep well last night,” she admits after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. She looks down at her hands, her fingers twisting nervously. “I couldn’t stop thinking about… things.” Her voice trails off, and she bites her lip, as if unsure whether to continue. There’s a hunger in her eyes, a raw need that she’s trying to suppress, but it’s there, just beneath the surface.

You don’t need to ask what she means. You already know. Last night, under the influence of your hypnotic suggestion, she spent hours lost in pleasure, her body writhing and arching as she obeyed your command. She used the vibrator and dildo you left for her, her mind blank and pliant as she gave herself over to the sensations. And when the trance ended, she woke up in her bed, her body aching and her sheets tangled, with no memory of how it started—only the lingering heat of her own desire.

Now, sitting across from you, she’s overwhelmed by it. Her body is still sensitive, still craving more, and she can’t understand why. She thinks it was her own doing, her own choice, but the intensity of it frightens her. She’s never felt this way before, never been so consumed by her own need, and it’s written all over her face.

The morning sun streams through the windows of Aiko’s apartment, casting a warm, golden glow over the living room. She hums softly to herself as she moves about, her bare feet padding across the polished wooden floor. The air is filled with the faint scent of fresh coffee and the sound of birds chirping outside. Aiko is completely at ease, her movements graceful and unhurried, as if nothing in the world could disturb her peace.

What’s unusual, though, is that she’s completely naked.

Her smooth, porcelain skin glows in the sunlight, her curves accentuated by the soft shadows that play across her body. Her long, dark hair is tied up in a loose bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She doesn’t seem to notice her state of undress, or if she does, it doesn’t bother her in the slightest. She moves with the same natural elegance as always, her hips swaying gently as she walks to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee.

You sit on the couch, watching her with a quiet satisfaction. Last night, during one of her hypnotic sessions, you implanted a simple command: “Walking around the house naked feels completely normal to you. You won’t think twice about it.” And now, even though the trance has been lifted, the suggestion remains, buried deep in her subconscious. To her, this is just another ordinary morning.

Aiko takes a sip of her coffee, her lips curling into a soft smile as she gazes out the window. She seems lost in thought, her mind wandering as she enjoys the quiet moment. Her body is relaxed, her posture natural, as if she’s completely unaware of how exposed she is. She turns and walks back into the living room, her movements fluid and unhurried, and sets her cup down on the coffee table.

“Good morning,” she says cheerfully, her voice warm and melodic. She sits down on the armchair across from you, crossing her legs casually, and picks up a magazine from the table. She flips through the pages, her expression calm and content, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.