The File (Hypno)

Fiction idea: A young man is given erotic hypnosis files after claiming he cannot be hypnotized. He feels no different, but as he enters his workplace he is unaware that his friend e-mail all his co-workers his new trigger phrases.

It starts small.

You come home after work, and need to wind down. So you sit on the couch, pull up net flix and just zone out. You watch an episode or two of some new show. It’s background noise as you scroll through your phone, maybe pester a few friends. About the time you let a yawn roll, you finally check the clock. It’s two in the morning. You’ve got to be up at six. So you try to do the smart thing, and go to sleep. As soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re out.

Do this long enough, and your sleep cycle gets fucked. You stay up later and later. Binge watching becomes the excuse, then the routine. You brew coffee and pound red bull like it’s ambrosia. When you finally start hearing birdsong, you realize you’ve done it again. Stayed up way too fucking late. So you try to do the smart thing. You cut back on the caffiene, set yourself a firm bedtime. Because you’re an adult, damn it. If you got into this mess, you can get out of it.

Right?

Only see, by that point, when you finally realize you obviously have a problem? It’s too fucking late. Why do you think relapses happen most often after rehab? Just because you acknowledge it-insomnia, I mean-doesn’t mean it’s going away. You’ve a full blown medical condition now. Congrats. I hope Game of Thrones was worth it.

Maybe it doesn’t happen like that for everyone. Maybe it’s just me, and I’m a certified dumb ass for letting it get this bad. It’s not like I’ve worries-I mean, I didn’t. My bills are paid, on time. I try to eat right, get some decent exercise when I can. It’s not like I asked to be an insomniac. Honest. Sometimes, things just happen. They slide out from under you just to suffocate you. You can blame it on old age, on stress, whatever.

Doesn’t change the fact you got here on your own. Doesn’t change that I got here on my own, too.

But like I said. That’s how things start. They creep in on cat’s feet. Then they’re sitting on your chest, waiting for that final exhale to come rolling out. All so they can devour you alive.

@@@

I’d tried damn near everything.

More exercise, a different diet. No caffiene or sugar whatsoever. The sensical things any doctor would tell you. Not like I’d know-I haven’t had insurance in years. S’how the bills get paid. But when I burned through all those, I went to the cooky shit. The weird shit. Homeopathy, all that. I did tantric meditation, yoga. Shit, I even listened to gregorian chants. I pulled up lectures on Youtube about astro physics and quantum computing. Stuff I’d have no way of understanding, just to have something drone me to sleep.

All it did was bore me to death.

I’d lay there under the covers. Eyes wide open as Neil DeGrasse Tyson went on and on about the universe, how it doesn’t blink.

Well, neither did I. If I was lucky, I’d catch an hour. Thirty mintues here and there.

Then came the blackout.

It wasn’t so bad. I was behind my desk at work, typing away on some report. I blinked, and next thing I know someone’s shaking me. I lift my head, and bring my palms to my eyes. I look over, my stomach rolling at the thought of my boss. It wasn’t, though-just Barney, the guy in the cubicle next to me. He’s a real fucking weirdo, Barney. Got jet black hair, grey streaks at his temples. He wears these horn rims with the lenses in perfect circles. And like, he doesn’t violate the dress code-but his all black choice of clothes, it’s over the top. Coupled with the glasses and his hair, he looks like a stage magician.

But Barney, he’s shaking me. I meet his eyes, and watch as they cut to the left. I sit up straight, and begin right where I left off on the report. The boss walks by, chatting with someone or other. I don’t catch it-I just keep my eyes focused dead ahead, right on the screen. About the time he’s out of ear shot, Barney leans in real close.

“Jessie? That’s the second time today. Do you even remember the first?”

There’s a lump in my throat then. I don’t answer him right away, but my hands stop over the keys. Barney lets out a sigh, and stands straight for a minute. I watch him glance around the cubicles before he ducks back down, his voice real low. He says, “Look, is something going on? Something at home, or-“

“Nah, nothing like that Barn,” I say. I give a slight shake of my head, and a low chuckle. “I uh-I just can’t get to sleep some nights. I’m fine though. Promise,”

Barn stands up straight again, and crosses his arms. He watches me for a moment over those glasses of his, the silence fucking pregnant. The he wriggles his nose, and pushes his frames up. “Right. Is this a recurring issue, or no?”

I snort, and shrug. “I mean, this is the first time it’s-”

“Second,” he corrects.

“-second time it’s happened. I don’t know. Maybe?” I say.

Barn nods, then asks what I’ve tried. I tell him the whole she-bang. The pills, the exercise, all the old wives crap. Barn nods along the whole time, but his ears perk when I mention music. His brow furrows, and he says “So-whalesongs, white noise. You’ve tried all that, got nothing?”

“Nope. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling. Waiting I guess,” I say.

Barney nods, and takes a deep breath. He and I, we’re not friends. Not by a long shot-but Barn had never been the kind of guy not to help. He won’t stick his neck out for you, but he comes through in a pinch. This?

This was one hell of a pinch. I didn’t even remember passing out.

His eyes cut away for a moment, then back to me. “Alright, so-I got something that might work. But you’ve got to promise me you’ll actually try it. Not just dismiss it, okay?”

I give a snort, and laugh. “Barn, short of knocking my lights out, I’ll try anything at this point,”

Barnie nods, and taking his voice even lower says “So have you tried hypnosis? Trance therapy?”

I blink for a minute, struck by the sheer audacity of it. Fucking hypnosis, after I’d spilled my guts like that. I try to give a polite smile, but it falls apart as I say “no Barn, can’t say that I have,”

Most folks, they’d catch that I was being sarcastic. But Barnie, he just keeps plowing right along. Honestly, that’s the reason why me and him never jived. Totally damn oblivious to social cues. Barney says “Right-well, most shrug it off. But I got this person I commission stuff from? They’re really effective. Want me to link you?”

I bring my fingertips to my eyelids, and rub. I sigh, and wave him away as I mutter an affirmative. Barn stands, goes right back to his cubicle. A second later my phone dings. It’s a text from Barney-just a link, nothing else. I put my phone away, and turn back to the report on screen. Work happens, but I’m not there. Not really. The clock ticks on, and eventually it’s time to go home.

As I’m leaving, I feel a tap at my shoulder. It’s Barney again, his head tilted as he says “Hey, get that text?”

“Uh, yeah man. Sure did,” I say. Barney smiles, and nods.

“Seriously, try them. I know their stuff might look a little weird-but they’ve worked wonders on me,” he says, going around me. I spin on my heel, following him with my eyes to the door.

“Barn? Ain’t hypnosis a line of shit? How the fuck do I know it’s gonna work at all?”

Barney turns, his coat over his arm. He rolls his shoulder, hiking a black messenger bag higher. But he’s still smiling, like a kid with all the secrets of the neighborhood.

“That’s the best part-there’s no charge. You tip what you think is appropriate. So. You’ve not a thing to lose, except more sleep. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess so man,” I say, my shoulders slumping. Barney nods, and waves over his shoulder. He takes off for the doors, and soon I follow right behind.

@@@

Alright, so I hadn’t tried everything. The gregorian chants, sure. Lectures on bullshit, sure. For the record, I tried the stuff I’d told Barn about too. The whalesongs, the white noise. Because that’d worked for others, you know? My brother, guy is damn near forty. When we were kids, we’d always know our old man was home because we’d hear the radio. And my brother, this guy can’t fall asleep now unless the radio is on. Used to drive his wife crazy until bluetooth headsets got cheap. Never saw a happier lady after that. I’d told myself hell, if it had worked for him, why not?

But I’m not my brother. Not by a long shot. With him, it wasn’t a “problem”, not really. Just an ingrained part of him. Something he’d done for so damn long he noticed it missing more than it being there. But me? Hell, this was my fault. I was too dumb to figure out how to solve it then, but this was sure as hell my fault. I’d shit the bed-and now it was time to clean up.

I got home right after work. I barely remember the drive. Insomnia, it does that too you. You live in snapshots. Framed moments in your mind that make up your day. Unlocking my car, getting in. The traffic light. An annoying jingle in the radio. All these little things, I remember them. I can infer I drove home, sure. But I don’t remember it. I tried not to think about that too much. Much less, how many times just this week it had happened.

I was home, damn it.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, alcohol long since been passed up as a remedy. But I liked the taste, so I got one. I cracked it open and sat down on my recliner, the same one that got me into this mess. The TV was silent-fine by me. It was for the best, really. But I had to have amusement. Had to, or else the fucking silence would suffocate me. So I pulled out my phone, the recliner groaning underneath me. I opened my messages, and I clicked the link Barnie had sent.

I hadn’t tried everything-but really, who the hell does when you have a problem? It’s more of a phrase we tell people, isn’t it? Some part of us, just like my brother, that can know the missing more than the whole. Hypnosis had popped up as a suggestion in my searches. It didn’t seem a bad idea, but it was a part of that “cooky shit” that seemed too far flung. Like crystals and chakras and chanting to the mother goddess, or whatever.

But here I was. On this page all the same, my finger hovering over one hell of a prompt.

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE DELICIOUSLY?”

Below it was the normal “yes” and “no”. For a half second, I thought Barnie had maybe mismatched his links. Sent me a cooking blog instead on accident. But like, the box in front of me struck me just damned odd. It was a black box, with white lettering and a boarder. Not a clickbait ad in site. So I clicked “yes”, and waited as it refreshed.

I didn’t have to wait long. Not at all, especially for something so damn minimalist I could have brought it up a baud modem. On the page, in the same white lettering as before, was the following:

SplatCo Audio Magick

Archive

Commission

Contact

I stayed my hand for a moment, sinking back in my chair. There was a clock over my TV on the opposite wall. The second hand grew so damn loud, every click seemingly longer than before. I glanced up, and checked the time.

I took a breath, looking back down at the options. I clicked on the Archive option, but got lost pretty quick. On the page were countless links with little more than dates and Names. “For Adam, For E, For Mirri”, stuff like that. I knew better than to just click one, so I backed out of the page. The commission link was next, but it was “contact” that I clicked.

The page, like the rest, was simple. A field for your email, a field for the header, and a place to type. That’s all. Not a single indication as to if this was customer support or a comment page. I wriggled my nose, and pulled my phone closer as I hammered away.

“Hi-I’m having trouble sleeping. My friend recommended you, but I can’t really make out what you’re about. Could you please enlighten me?”

It sounded sufficiently vague. I smiled, and tapped “send” with my thumb. I drained my beer, and got up to get another. I tossed the bottle in the trash, the clink all too telling of how much I’d drank. But I opened the fridge all the same. I’d just bent down and reached inside when my phone went off. The tone meant an email.

I paused for a moment, my fingertips inches from a long neck. I glanced over my shoulder, the screen of my phone still lit from the notification. I stood back up, and closed the fridge. I walked back to the couch, and picked up my phone. It was an email alright-from that site, of all things. It kinda spooked me-the speed at which I’d got a reply. But then I figured it was probably just an automated answer. I clicked the notification, and opened the email.

It wasn’t automated. Not a single word. At least, it didn’t read like an automated email. I soaked in every single syllable, then got to the very end. There was a file attached, with this last line right above it:

“Courtesy of Splatco-may your troubles end as you embrace your true self.”

@@@

Insomnia is a lot like the rest of life. It likes to play dirty and sneak up on you. It doesn’t give notice, it doesn’t try. It just is, and you either roll with what it does to you or find a fix. I didn’t know what that file was, but I clicked it all the same.

It turned out to be an audio recording. No music, no nothing. Just a long silence. I checked the time, and sure enough it was rolling. About ten seconds in I was about to close my media player-then there came a voice.

One metered and calm, ragged at the edges. Soothing in it’s own way, though. Like it belonged to someone older, or someone who had lived pretty damned hard. When he spoke though, that sound transformed his words into something more. Something that made my spine prick as every hair stood on end.

“What you heard just now, that’s what you need,” came the voice, “Not the hustle of work, or the din of traffic. But silence. An odd thing, silence-you notice it not when it’s there, but when it’s not. When you do have it, you pay it no mind. But it’s in my professional opinion that you-yes, you listening to this right now-you absolutely should. I’m going to give you a set of instructions. You’re to follow them to the letter. When I tell you to pause the audio, you pause it. You’ll know when to resume. We’re going to test that right now-pause,”

I felt my eyebrow raise, but I flicked my thumb up anyways. I waited a beat or two, then hit play. There was a moment or two of silence, then the voice spoke again.

“Good. Very good. Listening is quite easy, isn’t it? Why, it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. And if you can listen-if you can follow directions-then I know you can sleep. And that’s what you want most, isn’t it? A long, good nights sleep? But before you can get that, I need you to pause this audio and go prepare for bed. Brush your teeth, put on your clothes-or off. Then resume this recording,”

Looking back, I don’t know why I did it. Hit pause, follow directions like that. After months of dealing with every bullshit “cure”-I think I was just tired. Not physically, though I was. But tired of it all, really. Tired of trying what should-like the voice said-be the easiest thing in the world to do.

I hit pause.

I came back a minute or two later, dressed down. I picked up my phone, and hit resume.

Another moment of silence. Then the voice spoke again.

“Thank you-don’t you feel better? So much more comfortable now?”

“Y-yes,” I said. My lips and tongue, they had moved without me thinking about it. I didn’t even realize I’d said anything until a second later.

But I’d missed so much lately.

“I’m sure-but we can’t possibly sleep anywhere but our bed, can we? I know, it’s been tormenting you-but to fix this, we’ve got to face our tormenting head on don’t we? You know what always helps me? Everyone calls them something different-but I call them ‘power words’. Little twists and phrases that flip a switch within us. The catch is-well-you’ve got to believe them. I want you to pause, and ask yourself if you’re ready to believe. Believe in change-believe in a better you,”

I didn’t notice I’d paused the audio-much less made it to my bedroom-until I was already there. My head on a pillow, my finger moving back to the play button.

“There we go-you’re all set now, aren’t you? Now, those power words. We’re just going to use the one. Really, it’s all you need. Anything more and-well-I can’t be held responsible. Neither can you,”

There was a part of me that recoiled at that. Something in the back of my mind, like a string drawn too tight. But I pushed it away, buried it beneath my eyelids. Ones so much heavier than they’d been in weeks.

“Your word is melt. Such a simple word, isn’t it? Just as simple as listening and sleeping. When you hear that word? I want you to think of yourself dripping. Every worry, every little part of you sloughing away. Be it quick as water, or as slow as you need. It’s going away all the same. Because you are just going to melt-aren’t you, dear?”

I tried to speak then, to respond to the audio. My lips moved, but too slow to really say anything. Because that voice-it was right. I was melting. Right into the mattress beneath me, right into the sheet. I went and put my phone over on the night stand, rolling to my side as the voice went on. In the background of the recording, I heard it. The soft roll of waves. Like a beach you could just hear over the dunes.

“That’s it. You’re here now. Not the person at the office. The real you. The dripping, quivering you. And you’re going to slip and drip right down, right now. Right here with me. You can do that, can’t you? You can listen, right?”

I opened an eye, just to cast it lazily at the screen. The sound of the waves grew louder, second by second. I lifted my phone, and checked just how long this recording was going to be.

I had eight more hours.

I could have hit pause. I could have stopped it right there-but I didn’t. It was the first time I’d been in my bed in weeks.

I just let it play.

Every single sound dripping into my ears, right until those waves washed over me and took me away.

@@@

I had slept through my alarm.

No, really-I had slept through my fucking alarm.

Part of me was absolutely panicked. That part relaxed pretty damn quick when I realized I wasn’t as behind as I thought. I called my boss, gave him the sanitized version of what happened, then got dressed. The recording had finished two hours ago.

I had finally done it.

I’d gotten not six, not eight-but ten hours of sleep. I felt like a fucking god. I got to work, even did some overtime to make up for the delay. Barney eyed me from over the cubicle, but just smiled and went back to his screen. I plowed through so many reports and more. Hell, I didn’t even mind traffic when I left.

I sat down on my couch, and pulled my phone out. I went back to that page, and pulled up the contact link. I typed the most praise I’d ever given a single person on the internet, and hit send.

I sat there, a big goofy smile on my face for the first time in weeks.

Then my phone toned. Just like it did the other night.

It was another email, straight from Splatco. I stared at the header for a moment. This was it-the dude was going to bill me for some outrageous amount of money. I gave a curse, and opened the email.

What was inside was anything but a bill.

For further treatment-Courtesy of Splatco Audio Magick

There was another attachment. An audio file, like before. I felt my breath slow as my pulse became a bass drum in my ears. But I clicked the link. I downloaded it all the same, tapping my foot as I waited the few seconds I had to.

I couldn’t open it quick enough.

The sound of the waves-faint, like before-met my ears a second later. I sat there, not even moving for a long while. Just sitting and listening, the waves growing faint as the voice broke the stillness.

“Hello again friend. I so hope we were of service last night. Did you melt, dear?”

I don’t know if it was the voice, or just how I was feeling. I really don’t, and believe me, I’ve tried since then to figure it out. But as soon as that word left the voice’s tongue, I felt it. A wave of warmth, rolling from the center of my chest through my limbs. Just like last night, I felt my eyes flutter just a moment. Heavy from the day-or the recording-I couldn’t say. But heavy all the same.

The voice laughed. Then it went right on, the waves rolling in the back ground.

“You’ve come to enjoy that word, haven’t you? I do hope so. It’s done so much good for you after all, hasn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” I stuttered back, my lips weighty and full.

The voice gave a low chuckle again, then fell silent. The waves rolled on, lapping againsta distant shore. When the voice spoke again, it had every ounce of my attention.

“How would you feel to hear that-and only that-tonight? Your word?”

There was a moment of silence-one in which I nodded right along. Like the speaker was right there in the room with me. The voice went on.

“We’re going to do that then-just melt, melt melt all evening away. I’d like that. Something tells me you would, too. And while we’re doing that-”

Almost right away, the waves died. In its stead came the word-that one. Said by a multitude of different voices hundreds of different ways, but always soft. Always sensual, traveling along my ears right to my brain. Cradelling it, swaddled in a blanket of warm sound.

“-I want you to listen to the instructions I give. They’re simple one, just as simple as listening. As breathing, as sleeping. You can do that, can’t you dear?”

I wanted to respond. I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. My lips felt so much more full than they had before-soft, but too plump to speak. Every thought was drowned in that one repeating word. So I did what I could.

I listened.

I obeyed.

@@@

It starts small. These little things you do, these small changes and compromises you make. But it ends big, if it doesn’t swallow you.

The audios started showing up every single day. Right after I got off work. I’d sit and listen, every decibel rapture. It didn’t matter what the voice said, not as long as “melt” kept getting repeated in the back ground. After a while, I started noticing things. Just little things, really.

I mean, I was sleeping. That much held the same. But it was how long I was sleeping that got me. First it was just a few extra hours. Then I missed an entire day.

A week.

I thought sure as shit I was fired-but the concept of work, it turned into something so distant and faint. A noise in the background, rolling on and on without end. But one day, when I was awake, I made it into the office on time.

Everyone looked at me as I walked to my cubicle. Barney, when I passed him, he turned really slow in his seat. I heard it squeak as I met my desk.

Then came the thud of his loafers.

I was halfway through a report-the whole thing just a mish mash of text and words-when I felt him at my neck. The warmth of his breath, so close it made my skin stand up. I was about to ask him what the hell he was doing, but then he leaned in close.

He whispered in my ear.

You can guess just what he said, can’t you?

When my limbs moved, it wasn’t by my will. Well, it was-but it was all so muddled, so damned fuzzy now. Just being here, sliding to the floor on my knees. Barney unzipping his pants-his massive cock smacking right against my face.

Then came everyone else. All the men and women in the office-even our boss. They stuffed into my cubicle the best they could, all repeating the same thing. All saying that one word. Unzipping and grinding, pressing their warmth right against me.

Every thought, every want. It all came back to that one phrase.

Melt.