DEAR DIARY — Part 8
November 13
Holy shit, this weekend has already been the absolute best. I love Autumn break! The second I got home from turning in my final assignments, Adam was already waiting at my apartment. My suitcase was already packed and sitting by the door, and before I could even drop my backpack on my desk, he handed me an outfit he’d bought for me and told me to change immediately.
I have to it, I was a little concerned with his choice at first. It was a pink halter top that was both incredibly low-cut and cropped, showing off almost my entire stomach. While I’m reasonably thin, I’m not exactly a stick; I spend way too much time at a computer to have totally avoided the “freshman fifteen.” The denim shorts weren’t much better—they honestly resembled panties more than they did actual shorts. I felt like I should have been at a pool party rather than heading out for a drive. But as much as I wanted to balk at such a “slutty” outfit, I wasn’t about to say no. I want to be Adam’s perfect woman, and if this is how he wants me dressed, I’ll do it for him.
The shoes, though... they almost set me off. Tall, pink platform heels. I have never worn anything like them in my life—they’re gaudy, loud, and practically impossible to walk in. And for some reason? I absolutely love them. They make me feel so tall and powerful, in a weirdly bubbly way.
As soon as we were in the car—me all tarted up and Adam behind the wheel—he put a CD in the stereo. He told me he’d stayed up late making it just for the drive. It was just the steady, rhythmic sound of a metronome. He told me to focus on the sound and imagine the needle swinging back and forth in my mind. Before I even realized it, we were pulling up to our hotel three and a half hours later. I missed the entire drive! It was like I blinked and we were there.
When we arrived, I held onto Adam’s arm as we walked inside. The hotel was fancy, with valet parking and bellhops and a lobby that looked like the sort of place where people notice what shoes you are wearing. I definitely got stared at. I could feel eyes on my legs, my top, my heels.
But I did not care what they thought of me. I cared that Adam liked having me on his arm. That was what mattered. I stood close to him while he checked in, feeling blonde and pink and exposed, and somehow proud.
Once we were in the room, everything moved quickly. We were both excited from the drive and the hotel and the whole strange feeling of being away from ordinary life. For a while, I forgot about school completely. I forgot about assignments and deadlines. It didn’t take long for us to shed our clothes and start having some fun. Of course, we completely forgot that the bellhops would be bringing our bags up! Adam scrambled to pull on a pair of shorts when the knock came, while I just stayed posed on the bed. Honestly? I didn’t mind in the slightest if the bellhop saw me. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he dutifully placed our bags and left without even waiting for a tip. I guess seeing me like that was tip enough! Adam and I had a good laugh about it, but we were soon back to our “celebrating.”
After I came twice—once in bed and again in the shower while we were cleaning up—Adam took me out to dinner. He had another outfit picked out for me: a shimmering silver backless dress. When I put it on with the matching silver heels, I almost did not recognize myself in the mirror. The dress caught the light every time I moved. My shoulders looked bare and smooth. My legs looked longer because of the heels. My lipstick looked pinker than usual.
The only thing that felt slightly wrong was my hair. Not wrong exactly but just enough.
I kept thinking the dress would look even better if I were a lighter blonde. Maybe platinum. Something about the silver made my current blonde seem too soft. I never thought I would think that about my own hair, but there it was.
When I go back to the salon for my roots, I might ask about going lighter.
Dinner was at a restaurant overlooking the beach. It was already dark, but the moon was rising over the water, and the light reflected off the waves in this perfect, unreal way. It felt like something from a movie. Adam ordered for us, and I let him. Normally I would have insisted on choosing for myself, but that night I liked not having to think. I liked sitting there in my silver dress, feeling pretty and taken care of.
Afterward, we went dancing and I got pretty drunk, but it was so much fun.
We slept in late this morning, ordering room service and just cuddling in bed. After we ate, Adam ate me out, sending me into the most incredible orgasm. I wish life could be like this every day. This afternoon, he gave me a tiny bikini to wear to the beach, and I happily put it on. We spent hours walking through the surf. It’s a good thing it was so sunny, because I would have frozen otherwise, though the cold wouldn’t have stopped me. On this trip, Adam is the one choosing what I wear, and I love that.
We just got back and I’ve finished washing the salt off in the shower. Adam says he’s going to put me under one more time before we head out to dinner tonight. After everything we’ve done already, I can’t imagine how he could possibly make this weekend better, but I’m sure he has a plan.
November 15
Adam and I go home tomorrow, and I already hate the thought of it.
I am sitting here in the hotel room, trying to make myself enjoy the last bit of the weekend instead of dreading the end, but it is hard. This has been one of those trips that feels separate from real life. Like school and deadlines and all my usual worries belong to somebody else, somewhere far away.
It is funny, because I used to be so certain about what I wanted. I wanted to graduate, go to law school maybe, or teach history, or do something serious and impressive with my life. I still want to graduate. I do. I am not throwing everything away just because I had one amazing weekend at the beach.
But I am starting to wonder if I have been holding on to an idea of myself that does not really fit anymore.
Maybe this summer, once the move is done and school is behind me, I can actually think about what I want. Not what I am supposed to want but what I want now.
Unfortunately, I am still a long way from having time for that. Tomorrow we drive back, and then it is back to school, back to schedules, back to being responsible. At least some of the biggest assignments are finished. My schedule should feel a little less impossible now.
Still, I wish this weekend could last longer.
I wrote last week about how I started wearing lipstick more, and apparently that has become a real thing. Other than when I was sleeping, I do not think there has been a single moment this weekend when I was not wearing some. I put it on when I get up, check it in every mirror, and reapply it throughout the day without even thinking.
Pink, mostly. It feels strange how quickly it became part of me. My face looks unfinished without it now. Adam notices it too. He notices everything. I like that. I like the way his eyes move to my mouth when I have just put on a fresh coat. I like leaving little marks on him when I kiss him, like a silly, pink claim.
I know that sounds ridiculous but I don’t care.
Most of the weekend has been spent either on the beach or in the hotel room. We have been lazy and indulgent and completely irresponsible in the best way. I have worn less clothing than I probably should, and whenever we were alone, I usually stopped bothering with clothes at all.
At first that felt daring, then it just felt natural.
Adam has taken me out every night for dinner and dancing, and each time he has picked what I wore. I thought that might bother me more, but it has not. There is something wonderful about not having to decide. He lays out the dress, the shoes, sometimes even the lipstick, and I become the girl he wants to take out.
Last night, the club was right on the beach.
I wore a little yellow dress with yellow wedge sandals. It was brighter and more playful than anything I would have chosen for myself a month ago, but I loved how it looked with my blonde hair. The dress moved when I danced, and I kept catching Adam watching me like he was pleased with every choice he had made.
After a while, we left the music behind and walked down the beach to get some air. The night was warm, and the sand was cool under my shoes. I holding his hand and feeling lightheaded in that happy, careless way I have felt all weekend.
Eventually, we found a quieter spot near a grove of trees.
Adam pulled me close, and we started kissing. For a moment I was aware of the club behind us, the distant music, the possibility of people somewhere not too far away. Then I stopped caring. I cared only about Adam’s hands, his mouth, his attention, and the thrill of being hidden but not completely safe from being noticed.
That is the part I keep thinking about. Not just what we did, but how much I wanted it. How quickly I stopped worrying. How good it felt to let Adam decide, to follow him, to be wanted so openly that everything else seemed unimportant.
I am going to be sad when this weekend ends. But maybe that is part of why it feels so perfect. If life were always like this, maybe it would stop feeling like magic. Maybe it has to end for me to understand how much I loved it.
Love,
Jessica
Hypnosis Experiment Log
Subject: Jessica Sandler
Date : November 16
I am writing this two days later than usual because of the trip Jessica and I took to the beach. It was a long weekend but a very successful one.
I had expected the trip to be useful. Getting Jessica away from school, from her apartment, from her usual routines, was always going to create opportunities. I wanted to see how she behaved when removed from the structure that normally holds her in place. I wanted to know whether the suggestions would follow her into a different environment.
They did better than I expected.
The drive down was the first test. I had prepared an audio file for her to listen to in the car, built mostly around a metronome and a simple progression of cues. Nothing too aggressive. Just enough to guide her into letting go, sinking down, and trusting the motion of the trip. I wanted the journey itself to feel like a transition away from ordinary Jessica.
It worked almost perfectly.
She started out alert, sitting beside me in that pink outfit I had chosen for her, pretending she was more comfortable than she really was. The top and shorts had already done a lot of the work before we even left. She looked exposed, nervous, and excited all at once. Then the metronome started, and little by little her expression softened. Her body relaxed. Her eyes unfocused.
By the time we reached the hotel, she had missed nearly the entire drive.
That might have been a problem if she had been upset, but she was not. She came back slowly, warm and pliant, looking around the lobby as if the weekend had only just begun for her. In a way, I suppose it had.
The first incident at the hotel was not planned, but it was instructive. We reached the room before the bellhop brought our bags up. Jessica was already so caught up in the mood of the trip that she had no hesitation about making herself comfortable immediately. When the knock came at the door, I had to pull on shorts quickly to answer it.
Jessica, however, did not bother hiding.
She stayed where she was, relaxed and almost posing, as if being seen did not concern her in the slightest. The bellhop tried to remain professional, and to his credit, he mostly managed it. But his face gave him away. He was clearly not prepared for Jessica. We all noticed.
What mattered was that she did not seem ashamed. If anything, she seemed pleased. That was a major confirmation of the work I have done around attention and embarrassment. The old Jessica would have panicked. She would have scrambled for a sheet, snapped at me, and probably spent the rest of the night furious.
This Jessica smiled.
All weekend, she was electric.
She loved the clothes I chose for her. Or at least, she loved what they did to her. The pink heels, the tiny shorts, the silver dress, the yellow dress, the bikini. Each outfit pushed her a little further from her old habits and closer to the version of herself I am trying to bring forward.
The most interesting development was how quickly she stopped needing practical barriers.
At some point during the trip, she simply gave up on underwear except when we were at the beach and she was wearing a bikini. I did not have to force the issue. I encouraged it, of course, but once she realized how much more available and daring it made her feel, she embraced it on her own.
That is always the best sign. A suggestion has become strongest when it no longer needs to be framed as mine.
She showed very little hesitation about anything. She wanted to be close to me constantly. She liked being looked at. She liked knowing I had chosen how she appeared. She liked being taken out, displayed, ired, and then brought back to the room where there was no need for her to be anything except mine.
One night after dancing, we went walking on the beach and found a secluded place near some trees. I had chosen the spot carefully enough to give us cover, but not so much cover that the possibility of being discovered disappeared entirely. That balance seemed to affect her strongly. She was nervous for only a moment, then very turned on.
I honestly do not know whether she would have refused if I had chosen somewhere less private. I did not test that. There is no need to be reckless when controlled risk produces the same effect. But I think the boundary has moved. Quite far, actually.
All I can say is that I am a very lucky man.
Jessica has changed enormously in a short period of time. The blonde hair, the lipstick, the outfits, the growing comfort with attention, the way she now looks to me for approval before questioning herself. It is all working. The beach weekend gave me a glimpse of what she could become once school is no longer dominating her life.
California will be very good for this.
If we move there, and if I guide her correctly, I think she will adapt to that lifestyle beautifully. Sun, beaches, parties, gyms, salons, social events. A place where caring about appearance feels normal instead of indulgent. With enough hypnotic reinforcement, Jessica may not even experience the change as a change. She may simply feel as if she is finally becoming comfortable with who she is.
That would be ideal. For this week, however, the focus needs to shift back to school.
As tempting as it is to keep pushing the transformation, Jessica needs to get ahead on her assignments. If she can finish the remaining major work during the rest of break, the next two months will be much easier. She could coast through the end of the semester without constant academic pressure. That would give me more room to work on her.
But all of that depends on her finishing as much as possible now. The timing works for me as well. I am expecting a heavy workload when I return tomorrow. Missing two and a half days, even after preparing in advance, will leave a pile on my desk. I will need to be disciplined, and so will Jessica.
The plan for this week is simple. I will reinforce productivity. Focus. The satisfaction of completing schoolwork early. If she can finish the bulk of her major assignments now, she can effectively coast through the remainder of the semester. This “clearing of the deck” is essential; the fewer intellectual demands placed on her, the more I can accelerate her transition into the bimbo archetype.
That should appeal to both sides of her. The old Jessica will like the academic responsibility. The new Jessica will like the promised reward.
If I do this correctly, she will spend the week working hard and still believe that I am helping her stay on track.
Which, in a way, I am.