Story- THE HYPNOTIC SHOPPE Continuing Story


This is the page for the never-ending saga of the young gang of friends that run the mysterious and mystical Hypnotic Shoppe! 
Mabel and Diane, the elderly ladies  that owned it and the corner bar, suddenly disappeared. A note from Mabel left it to the assistant manager, the young college student and dance instructor, Wendy.
  Diane returned, looking 50 years younger, cryptic about their journey or if Mable would return. She runs the corner bar, occasionally peers in to give advice and knows much more than she tells.
   Wendy and her friends work at the shoppe, go to classes, meet at the Haven, the large gothy night club downtown, and go on fantastical adventures both humorous and horrific. There are aliens, evil organizations, mean neighbors, destructive robots, seductive undead, power hungry hypno-tyrants, insects, (I HATE insects) and a strange cat.
   The stories often have Mind Control, Transformation and Hypnosis themes, involve nearly every genre of fetish, from latex, footworship, Pony play, dolls, robots, adult babies, age regression and progression, violence, drug use and casual sex. many scenes involve non consentual events, i.e., being hypnotized against their will, forced to fall in love with the sexy evil villain as an obedient thrall, or become a coat rack. ( it could happen here!)
   Therefore here's your warning, if you are not old enough to legally read mature erotic literature, read no further. Also, I write about things I find scary, or erotic and often they are one and the same; some things that I hate and scare me, arouse me, many things I like, are fun and happy, but a bit boring. You'll find it all here I think.
   If you are legally allowed though, be welcomed by the jangling door chimes and bells, peruse the periodicals and book shelves of ancient manuscipts, cautiously try the antique furniture, and jewelry, and incense,
   . . . and be very careful what clothing you try on . . .





REMODELED 1 , A Hypnotic Shoppe Episode. We do a little catching up here, from Wendy’s receiving the ownership of the shoppe, meeting a few main characters , and an existing sideline story takes center stage.


Wendy flipped her tossed blonde hair back out of her eyes and looked out the streetside window from her apartment, above her store, The Hypnotic Shoppe. Cleaning and remodeling was done, as was fall quarter at college. Her ballet class was full, and she remembered she had to clean the studio, which shared the upstairs hall with her apartment.


She showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a hoody sweater, basic undies and sneakers, and a scrunchy for her hair.

At the door to the street, merely eight feet from her shoppe entrance, she smelled the air. Others may do so to check the temperature or revel in the fragrance of fall. Since her freak transformation a month ago, to a german shepherd and back, she had uncanny senses, and among other things, could smell the presence of other dogs. They also seemed to smell her, and it was that point she was avoiding.

Amy, Wendy’s friend and pixie goth companion, strolled in at exactly nine. She had re-dyed her hair black from last week’s excursion into bleach blonde, and was wearing a black skirt and sweatshirt. The small hyperactive girl with the straight 4.0 average had one tell-tale sign remaining to show she had owned, and gotten too involved with the Ditz dolls. Until the end of the month when she had a surgery planned, her five foot, one hundred pound body would sport breasts size 40 D. Wendy smiled at her friend’s return to her old self.

“Wenders! The new painted walls rock! I love the eerie quality with the candle sconces on the walls, that’s totally cool. How did you make the walls look like stone?”

“Haha! With this stone-paint stuff and a ruler, and some spackle stuff to look like mortar in between. Awesome huh? Now we have a full tea and coffee area and reading area, over there is all the clothing, and that closet is now for trying on things.” Wendy glanced around at the changes she’d made in a month, and felt true improvements had been made. ‘Mabel would have been proud’, the new owner mused, still wondering what had happened to the former owner.

“What did you do to the basement?”

“Um,” Wendy placed periodicals on the magazine shelf haphazardly. “Well there’s one area of the basement I had to have the builders wall off. There’s a way to move one wall though, I will show you some time. The rest of the basement has been made into well, little areas which we can do stuff with later I guess!” Amy scowled, realizing her friend wasn’t going to talk about the forbidden area, or why it “had” to be walled off.

Wendy poured Amy some ginger tea, then grabbed her full length, coyote fur coat.

“Hon, I will be back around noon, I just have to run to the bank and then get some boxes at the post office. You know all about those new oils right? don’t touch! Just read off what they do for the customer. Mark them 250.00 each small vial, and we learned from last night,, don’t get ANY on you. No returns anymore on anything!”  Wendy peered down the street both ways, hoping to get to her little car before any stray canines get a whiff of her- needing to avoid another night like last night. With a deep breath and  wave of wiggling fingers, the college student  performed a Grand Jete' into the windy street.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut with a cacophony of bells and jangling. They’d been there through the last few owners and though annoying, they were supposedly powerful mystic protection, so they stayed. The fire in the fireplace seemed to say goodbye to Wendy, flaring momentarily, then settling back to a low pleasant crackle.

Amy pulled out from her backpack, a copy of ‘You’re Not Your Body’, and sat at the glass counter in the front of the store by the large display window. The new barstool had a back, and more cushiony than the old wood one. Amy felt the changes would be good, and wondered what the future may bring.

Carla put her cigarette out on the bottom of her black slip-on shoe. Her dark blonde hair hung in her eyes, unnoticed. She straightened her button up shirt, pulling the hem to cover her, down
to the low cut hips of her faded jeans.
"Amy, what the Hell are you doing here? Where's Wendy? Wow." Carla took in all the painting, new wood panels and faux stonework. The candle sconces and stone fireplace near the reading area were lit, but by lights resembling real flame. A smile crawled onto her face. She wished she'd washed her hair, now that Amy was working the shift.
Amy spoke.
"I freaking love it; it's a cross between old world bookstore, medieval antiques, and gothy, mystical," she fumbled for a word tillbCarla put her hand on Amy's shoulder and grinned.
"It's a Harry Potter Head shop."
"What EVER!" Amy pushed her friend with two tiny hands onto Carla's ribs, just below her normal-sized chest. Old feelings twinged in both the girls, who had explored a relationship a year previous.
Both went on to other things- Amy to her studies and Carla to new relationships weekly. Amy grabbed her coat.
"I have to go to the doctor and get THESE removed, and though, they say I will be fine but for sore chest and muscle pain, if you want, you can bring me some soup or something." Amy batted her eyes
as she looked down, only half doing it for the effect.
"Ohh, Ames, you know I'm totally bringing the wine and Demerol, or whatever you need, I still got connections." Carla wondered why Amy would want the 40D implants removed. They were free, and even covered with a zip up cable knit, they commanded attention. They were clearly too large for the tinkerbell look-a-like.
"Just wine! Hm,, Arbor Mist?"
"Sure."

 
The huge old wooden door shuddered, dozens of bells and tinklers jangling as a tall, slim man entered. He looked like a catalog underwear model, smooth, defined. He looked at the two women, standing by the front glass counter and cash register, and swallowed hard. The guilty-looking man held the door open, and like a princess, in strode an average height woman, in her late twenties, with average brown hair and average looks in a white business dress and blazer. She clearly bore a more than average attitude, however. She didn't have a gun but was just as threatening- her kind usually had a lawyer
on speed dial.

 
"I'm looking for Amy, or Amerz." Amy recognized the man. He had come in and talked to her about a strange book his girlfriend had found, bound in leather and containing a map, and strange sigils. She had copied part of it and was researching it before she was given that Ditz Doll, and was sidetracked. Carla knew too well the man that had touched her glove, just after she handled that new oil, spending
all night with Wendy to change him back to himself after he transformed into the exact likeness of Carla.

 
"Hello, you must be Gia, I'm Amy. Ken brought me your book to research. Did my notes help?"
Gia put her hand on her cocked hip and snarled. She took a deep, dramatic breath and huffed.

 
"And I suppose that's all you did." Amy looked innocent, Carla looked ready to fight.
"Well yes Ma'am, that,,,"
"DON'T call me Ma'am like I'm old. He talks in his sleep! He says, `Amerz, Amy', and crap like that. He had the audacity of using as a lie, some story about being transformed by magic into your lesbian lover!" She shot Ken a death glance. "So now, you're going to tell me you have a lover and save him aren't you?"

 
Carla wrapped her arms around her short ex-lover, her hands secured around Amy's belly. Carla’s fingers remembered exactly where to touch, how to slide up the floating rib and rest on a sensitive spot for her ex- but now that spot on Amy grazed her new 40 D chest candy.

 
"You don't have to tell this biotch shit. Candy-ass needs her bottle and a nap, or her hair ripped out!" Amy grimaced at Carla's words. Getting the clue though, and wanting to save Ken from his psychotic fiancée, Amy leaned her hip against Carla’s thigh, just like she had done at the club most nights last year. Goosebumps rose all over her body, her new large aureolas wrinkling into taut sensitive nipple-buds. The surprisingly exhilarating feeling of Carla’s touch, and her nearly rabid defense against the snooty debutante, was intoxicating. ‘Last week’s change into a real life bimbo doll may have lingering effects,’ Amy thought with a warm shiver.

 
"Huh! At least I don't look like someone begging quarters by the underpass." She reached to put her arm around Ken, but found he had moved to the oak reading table.

 
"Everyone knows what you'd do for a quarter, skunt!"

 
Amy's right Doc Marten boot came down on Carla's soft black shoe. Carla grabbed her foot, sitting on the old wood floor silently.

 
"Gia, my relationship issues are not your concern, are they?"
The girlfriend flipped her long straight hair behind her ear. She looked long at her boyfriend, now standing by the jewelry counters.

 
"Well,,, after I tried reading one page of that book, and saw what happened to little Joy-Joy, I find I'm believing in your research, and in magic now." Ken looked up from the bracelets.

 
"That was our dog”, said Ken. “She read that page you pointed out, just like you said, but before she was finished with the magical incantation, Joy-Joy licked her hand." Gia had tears welling in her mascara-smeared eyes.

 
"It's clear you know what you're talking about, and Daddy has become interested, not in the magic in the book but the map to the temple and sacrificial treasure. We'd like to hire you and your um, team or company, whatever, to get Daddy the treasure and me the magic in the Necro-Archon."  


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REMODELED 2 AMY'S TRANSFORMATION



   “Amy?” The nurse held a folder, scanning the waiting room.  Amy stood, wiggled down the wrinkles in her jeans. She pulled the bottom of her black t-shirt to cover her skin down to her low cut jeans. She stared at the large woman with the white smock and short curly hair.
   “I’m sorry for the wait, there’s a lot going on today. Follow me.” The obese nurse walked so slowly in front of her Amy felt road rage stirring
   “Is Doctor Gray ready for the implant removal?”
   “Yes honey. Is this the number to call when you’re done? You’ll be out of it for a half hour or so.”
   “Yes Ma’am.” Amy never said ‘Ma’am’, but if the nurse could call her honey and make her feel like a child, Amy could return the favor and make her feel old.
   The small room they entered had an exam table with white paper on it, and a machine to check pulse and blood pressure.
   “Take your shirt off and bra dear, and your  pants. Here’s your operating gown. Split goes in the back, but don’t tie the top too tight, we will be undoing it of course!” The nurse wrinkled her nose. “Well it says you are a 40 D, and that does seem a little too big for your frame.”
   Amy didn’t need the approval of an overweight, old, nurse. She knew she was just barely five feet tall and usually tipped the weigh scale at about a hundred pounds. These recent chest additions had added extra weight, not to mention back and rib pain. She finished folding her clothes when the nurse stepped out. The plastic chair was cold on her butt.

   A new nurse walked in. Perspiration beaded along the hairline of her bright red locks. She was in her late twenties, possibly early thirties, pretty and physically fit. Amy relaxed a little. Somehow it mattered to her that her nurse was healthy.
   “Will it be much longer?”
   “You’ve kept me waiting for a while, Amy, I’ve been waiting for you.” The nurse pulled a PDA from her pocket and started typing on it.
   “Why are you sweating?”
   The nurse hit enter and a vibrating hum echoed from deep in Amy’s uterus, where the control device had been implanted onto her endometrium wall during the breast implant operation a week ago.
   Amy’s eyes widened. The frightened pixie goth clamped her shivering legs shut. Sensations rolled over her body- numbness to orgasmic, cascading and swirling on her skin, in her muscles, in her mind.
   A touch of the redhead’s painted fingernails on the PDA, and the hum got higher pitched and louder, barely audible to anyone sitting next to her.
   Amy’s body slumped in her chair, her eyes were nearly shut, just little slits, eyeballs rolling back and forth. She dwelled somewhere near sleep, catatonic. The woman spoke softly.
   “Because, Amy, I was preparing your special room, and you’re so late this wig is making me sweat!” The fake nurse pulled a box from her pocket containing two small earrings, one red and one blue. She leaned close, stopping to admire the young spritely college girl. She stuck the earrings in her lobe holes, and touched buttons on her PDA. The two earrings blinked.
   Amy’s eyes opened and she sat up straight. The director of regional operations, Rachel Soames, opened a small program that showed a woman’s body, and had many drop arrows around it. She put an earphone in her ear, one with a microphone boom, that connected to the PDA. The operative touched a folder called stance, and selected one.
   Amy's body stood, quicker and crisper than usual. In her sleeplike state, she was barely aware she was now erect, seeming to float. Rachel put two earbuds in Amy’s ears and hit play on her PDA. As a large audio file  played, the experienced agent stood by the wood door, a small plastic watergun in her hand. She didn’t get a chance to test the new fluid within, because nobody entered the room during the data upload. Minutes later the PDA face showed the file was done.
   Rachel took out the earbuds, straightened her smock, and walked out, down the hall and into an elevator. She smiled at a greasy young intern, and got out at the parking floor. In her earpiece she heard someone enter Amy’s room.
   “Hi Amy, sorry I’m late, I’m Doctor Gray. We should talk, because usually we don’t like to perform,” Rachel spoke words into her earphone-microphone, and Amy spoke them with the exact same inflection.
   “Doctor Gray. Doctor Gray. Listen to me. You are a good boy. Good boys do what they are told. Remember what you were told now. Do what you are told now.” Amy's face was blank, serene. Far away she seemed to notice her own voice, a man in the room.
   The goofy looking doctor blinked several times.  He opened the door and leaned out.
   “Nurse we won’t need that room at the hall, Teaching room four is prepped. Take her there now.”
   “But doctor we never use that one?” The heavy nurse questioned verbally but helped Amy onto the gurney.
   The doctor’s eyes fluttered. “We will be doing several experimental processes that is why. Take her there now.”
   Amy stared at the ceiling but saw nothing. Far below on the parking floor, Rachel now wore a black wool skirt and blazer, very professional. Her black hair was down. She dragged her fingers through it to help it dry as she started the engine of her onyx  BMW 735.
   “Move in the white teams, Operation Shapeshift is in prep stage.”

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   Wendy wore black wool slacks, and matching blazer over her mustard turtle neck. The air was chilly- a wet clammy kind of cold that got in your bones and made your clothes feel heavy. The shoppe was equally cold and uninviting when the young dance instructor unlocked the huge wooden door, but with the new remodeling addition of the gas fireplace and gas candle sconces on the walls, moments after pressing the autolight button, the room was more temperate.
   The tea and coffee was ready in the new lounge area when the door bells jangled. The new shoppe owner peered around the wall in time to see the petite frame of Amy struggle to fully close the swollen door. She wore a typically black satiny t-shirt with a red fleece vest, that zipped up the front using a huge brass zipper. Ripped jeans and Doc Marten hiking boots completed the ensemble, and one would assume there was nothing amiss, if you didn’t know that a week previous, Amy had been a 30 A bra size, two days ago she had been a 40 D, and this morning though she had intended to be an A again, she was somewhere around a 34 B. Though nothing like the grotesque visage she had been, she still seemed pretty top-heavy for her size. Wendy stood five foot two, and Amy was about three inches shorter.
   Carla faked a punch at Amy's sore chest, making the Mensa member  cover up quickly and wince.
   "Made ya flinch. You look good, does  it hurt? What did they do?"
   Amy thought for a moment, whispering to her friend,  "I don't really remember it,, must be the anaesthesia. It does ache a little, and I have medicine  they gave me."

   “I made Columbian and Raspberry Mocha this morning, and the tea in the oriental pot is Chamomile, plus some herbs I mixed up.”  Wendy pointed, being the perfect hostess for her friends. Amy went straight for the small fridge, removing a diet Coke and adding her thoughts.
   “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Wendy, I just wanted to say thank you for everything. Freaking weirdos and crazies and crap and you just deal with it and even when I go off on you and such,” Wendy hugged Amy quickly, and laughed.
   “That’s what friends do!”
   Amy hugged her friend back; Only Carla could see Amy's face turn red from the pain, holding her breath.
   An hour later and the two sat at the large wooden briefing table in the reading room, with the tall thin blonde named Gia, and the nicely muscled boyfriend Ken. The Brendan Fraser lookalike had been working with Amy to decipher the mysterious book Gia’s father had found in a jungle, but when Carla accidentally touched him after handling a strange new oil, he had shaped into Carla’s twin, and Wendy worked till four that morning to undo it. It seemed more transferred than looks. Ken talked in his sleep and had said things that only Carla knew, like Amy’s pet names when the two experimented with a relationship a year ago.
   “Here’s the book. Tell me where the puzzle is inside it and decipher it, so Daddy and I can have the treasure, and we will pay you well.” Gia sat up smugly. Wendy brought drinks in as Amy explained.
   “First, Wendy has a contract to sign, and after you sign a check, I will tell you where the puzzle is and how to get your treasure.” Amy gulped her Coke, specifically to induce the loud, eye-watering belch a moment later. Gia stood, ready to ignite on fire, but Ken held her hand and spoke.
   “We will pay a fair price of course. Can you give us a sample of what you learned?”
   Amy smiled at Ken. Though she didn’t remember the time they had been drugged and inseminated with devices by Rachel Soames, she still felt a strange tug toward him. It may have something to do with rugged looks and nice personality too, so she dismissed the alarm bells in her head.
   “O.K. First, the puzzle is the entire book. The pictures on each page are part of it, and the small cartoons around the page, like a border, are part of it too.”
   Wendy smiled, recalling another book on their shelves with similar markings and cartoufs. She smoothed out her pants of wrinkles and walked to the back room and the hundreds of dusty tomes there. Crossing her legs on the floor, the dance instructor pulled an enormous book from a pile, and carefully opened its wood and leather cover. She touched one of her charms to a page with a ward glyph, and then continued flipping the three foot pages till she found the images that matched Gia’s book, the Archon.
   Two hours later, as Gia and Ken left, Ken shook Wendy’s hand.
   “Thanks, we will call you when we know something more.”
   “You’re welcome.” Wendy blushed.
   “Thanks for everything,” Ken mimicked to Amy but before he could stop himself, he embraced the pixie goth and kissed her. He pulled his head away, but stopped short of apologizing when he noticed Amy’s eyes were closed, her lips still puckered.
   Gia gasped.
   Ken and Gia quickly walked outside. Their father’s limousine pulled up and the two were spirited away. Gia kissed the air beside her father.
   “Daddy! we have a rough map now! We paid them half what you said to and they were still happy!”
   “What?” Ken knew she frequently kept him in the dark on things, but he was learning an unpleasant side of his fiancée. His future Father-In-Law spoke.
   “We have a plane ready with guides and a new insertion team. Can you two be ready to fly in say,, an hour?”
   “Yes Daddy!” Ken suddenly didn’t want to go.
   “Oh,” Gia lilted. “Those girls know everything now. If you are going to make them disappear now, can you make the little dark-haired biotch disappear painfully,, for me? Please?”
   “Gi-gi, when we have the treasure, then they will be dispensable, and not until.”
   Ken found it hard suddenly, to breathe.

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