My Student Hypnotized Me in the Office

I’d always done what I thought was right, which generally meant being nice to people and doing community service here and there. When it came to choosing my life’s path, I was sure there couldn’t be a calling more important than being a teacher. I worked hard and taught some introductory courses while I was still a graduate student at UCLA, but once my PhD was done, I went into teaching full time. That was just a year ago, and now at twenty-six I was already one of the more respected teachers on campus. My days blurred together with lesson plans and office hours, yet I felt solid in my choices, like I was building something real that mattered beyond myself.

My principles were simple. I treated students with respect, gave them enough tools to pass my courses, and kept my evaluations fair with no favorites. There had been occasional troublemakers, but most of them learned that if they kept their heads down and did at least the minimal amount of work, I would let them pass. So I kept a careful peace even with those kinds of students. The routine felt steady, almost comforting, as I graded papers late into the night in my small apartment near campus.

Campus Tension Builds

My size helped. Standing at almost six feet, I used to be a little heavier than normal, but then I started playing a lot of football on the weekends with friends from the gym and that excess weight turned into serious muscle. I never played professionally, but my quads and biceps still looked big in the mirror and I kept my six-pack because I liked being in shape. Most of that mass stayed hidden under my clothes, yet I was still a big guy, and when I frowned at someone they usually stopped making a fuss. The weight room sessions left my body humming with heat and sweat, reminding me I could handle whatever came my way.

I also noticed the looks some female students gave me. A few tended to daydream around me, but they didn’t cause trouble, so I mostly shrugged it off and focused on teaching. Their glances lingered sometimes during lectures, eyes tracing my arms when I wrote on the board, but I pushed those thoughts aside and stuck to the material.

This semester, though, I noticed a problematic case and I wasn’t sure it could be salvaged. Even though our university was pretty big, I was aware of the girl right from the start. Her blue-black hair was cut in a root-bleach wolf cut, and she dressed in provocative black clothing most of the time, paired with silvery jewelry. She stood out even among my diverse students, especially because she was loud while moving through the corridors, always with a few other girls following her. The click of her boots echoed down the halls of the lit building, turning heads every time.

I would have guessed someone dressed like her would be a shy introvert, but that was probably just a silly prejudice. Her presence bothered me even though she didn’t attend any of my classes. I had heard she caused all kinds of disturbances around campus. Students talked about loud parties, inappropriate jokes, mocking, and maybe even bullying. Teachers complained about her outbursts, disruptions, and poor discipline. I was surprised someone like her even attended university and expected she would probably be expelled soon, but as the semester went on nobody did anything and the complaints about her got quieter. Rumors floated through the faculty lounge like bad coffee, thick and bitter.

After six weeks I found the name Brittany Larson in the registry for my European literature lecture. I recognized the name immediately. A quick check with the office confirmed there was no mistake. She had been added to my class at a special request, all approved. I had never heard of that happening before, but I was still relatively new and figured there was probably a good reason. So I shrugged it off and went back to teaching, assuming she probably wouldn’t even show up. The name sat heavy in my gut though, like a warning I couldn’t shake.

To my surprise, she appeared the very next day and sat in the front row. I paid no special attention and proceeded as usual, even when she made some loud remarks during the lecture. I told her loudly to keep her opinions to herself and reminded her there would be plenty of chances to express them during test season. A wave of quiet amusement moved through the room. She didn’t look happy that my joke got more attention than her comments, and I hoped she would get bored with my lectures quickly. Her perfume, something dark and spicy, drifted up to me anyway.

It was the opposite. She attended every single one, always sat in front, and always had something to say. Her remarks weren’t openly offensive and some weren’t entirely stupid, but she remained a disturbing presence no matter how many times I cautioned her. I thought about taking her aside, but then I remembered my colleagues had dealt with her since the start of the semester. Maybe they had found a way to work with her or knew why she acted like that. Her legs crossed and uncrossed under that short skirt, drawing eyes without effort.

I went to see Professor Miller, my mentor from the last year. “Larson, eh?” He removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “That’s one tough cookie to crack. She’s just testing your limits. You need to endure and outlast her. She’ll get bored and go away after a while.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s how you handled her in your class?”

“No, my situation was a little different,” he said, pausing as his eyes grew distant. “But we came to an understanding and her behavior doesn’t bother me anymore.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push. We exchanged a few more pleasantries and I left. The hallway felt longer on the way back, my steps heavier with doubt.

As the days passed, Brittany kept up her provocations, but I stopped paying attention and just continued lecturing as if she weren’t there. That seemed to discourage her, and she slowly lost interest. Her voice faded into background noise, like traffic outside the window.

Test Day Fallout

Then came test season. Mine was held in a big classroom so all my students could take it at once. The test wasn’t particularly hard. If they reviewed their notes at least once, they could score enough for an oral exam, and good scores let them skip the oral entirely. Pencils scratched across paper in steady rhythm, the air thick with tension and cheap coffee breath.

Brittany stirred up trouble the whole time. I caught her trying to cheat and copying her neighbors. She even asked them outright what to write. I warned her twice before I finally had enough, took her test, and threw her out of the room. A wave of quiet applause followed, since she had bothered everyone around her. Her boots stomped away, leaving a trail of muttered curses that hung in the air.

After that everything went smoothly. I collected the tests and went to my office, where I collapsed into my chair, confused and exhausted. A couple of minutes later there was a knock. I told the visitor to come in and was surprised to see the same girl I had just thrown out walk inside, looking perfectly calm. The door clicked shut behind her, sealing us in the small space that suddenly felt too warm.

Her blue-black hair hung loose over her bare shoulders. She wore a corset-style tank top held up by thin straps, with cobalt-blue bra straps visible. A short plaid black skirt probably violated some clothing rule, and her black patterned stockings disappeared into high black boots. A silvery belly chain with charms circled her exposed stomach, and she wore more matching pieces around her wrists, neck, and ears. The chain swayed with each breath, catching the light like a lure.

I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood. “If you’re here to beg me to let you retake the test, I’m really not sure that’s possible, Miss Larson,” I warned her. “And it might be smarter to wait until I cool off after what you pulled today.”

“It’s Brittany,” she said, stepping closer with a smile. “But call me Britt.”

“What?”

“My name is Brittany, but I prefer Britt.” She offered her hand casually, bracelet charms jingling like tiny warnings.

“I’m sorry, but as things stand I’ll probably stick with Miss Larson,” I said and left her hand hanging. The air between us crackled with something I couldn’t name yet.

“I guess I should be lucky you at least know my name,” she said with a smile, pulling her hand back to fiddle with her pendant. Her fingers traced the metal slowly, deliberately.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. I know the names of all my students. So why are you here?”

“I came to ask if you would consider giving me a passing score. I was hoping you’d change your mind.” She twirled the pendant, and it caught the fluorescent light in slow arcs.

“Are you crazy? You’re lucky you aren’t expelled for cheating, and you want a passing score? You might’ve made an impression on others, but all that rudeness, black clothing, and pagan jewelry doesn’t work on me.”

“Oh, you know what this is?” She sounded genuinely surprised and pointed to the pendant. Her voice dropped lower, pulling me in without permission.

“Of course. It’s my job to know things. It’s called a Witch’s knot.”

“Is it? Could you also tell me what its purpose was supposed to be?”

“For one, it was used during meditations. It should help focus and reach deeper states of concentration.”

“Really? Do you think that works?” She moved her hand and the pendant began swaying, the motion hypnotic in the quiet office. My eyes tracked it without thinking.

“Yeah, I guess. The design is pretty interesting.”

“How very perceptive of you. I guess you’re used to being the smartest guy in the room, but can you keep looking at my amulet for me?”

“Yeah, of course I can.”

“I didn’t want to offend you. I just wanted to make sure you keep watching. Isn’t my amulet the most captivating thing you’ve ever seen?”

“It does seem to catch my attention.”

“That’s right, Mr. Reynolds. No matter how smart you are, once my amulet starts to swing it catches your attention and you concentrate only on it. You can’t resist its power. The longer you look, the stronger it gets.”

I watched the pendant swing back and forth and realized she was right. Each swing made it more magnetic. I wanted to move or look away, but it felt impossible. My cock twitched in my pants, an unexpected heat building low in my gut as her words sank deeper.

“Very good. Now while you keep looking, can you tell me anything more about its supposed powers?”

“A Witch’s knot should be used to strengthen bonds between people. It was a symbol of unity and commitment.”

“That is exactly right. The amulet can’t bring new friends into your life, but it can fulfill that need each of us has for friendship.”

“Need for friendship?”

“Yeah. There’s that longing deep inside each of us, that desire to have someone close you can trust. My amulet can’t bring someone like that, but it can give you the same sensation, the belief that you have that treasured friend.”

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“It will give me belief?”

“You’ve said it yourself. My amulet strengthens bonds, and if you keep looking the bond will start to form. And you can’t look away, can you?”

“I can’t look away.”

“That’s right. As you keep watching, your need for friendship will be fulfilled. You will realize that I am your good friend.”

“You are my friend?”

“Well, not exactly,” she chuckled. “But you’ll believe that I am. Just keep watching and it will become clear. You can’t resist the power of my amulet, and with each swing you will be drawn closer to me.”

The things that bothered you about me are fading away. You are no longer bothered by my actions. Whatever my behavior is, you will find it perfectly adequate. I felt slight tension inside my mind, like someone pushing against my thoughts. My instinct was to push back, but as I kept watching the resistance wavered. Brittany’s actions already bothered me less than they had a few seconds earlier. My dick hardened fully now, pressing against my zipper as her scent filled my nose.

You aren’t troubled about having me around. In fact, you feel drawn to me. When you think about me, feelings of happiness, loyalty, trust, and deep connection will flood your mind. You will think of me as your friend regardless of how I treat you. The notion of having Brittany as my friend felt weird at first, but as the pendant kept swinging I realized the truth behind her words. The longer she spoke, the more pleasant I felt around her. It was like meeting one of my longtime friends, and I grew fascinated by how close we had become so fast. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my body betraying me with raw need.

You don’t want to complicate my life. You feel the need to help me and support me, even if it inconveniences you. You have a strong feeling of sympathy toward me that makes you turn a blind eye to anything that would bother you in other people. Making me happy is important to you. You feel the need to impress me and do favors for me. Whenever I start talking, you will immediately get interested and trust anything I tell you. And every time you look at my amulet, this bond will get even stronger. I watched the swinging pendant and slowly realized how important this girl was to me. Normally it would be unusual to make friends this fast, but with Brittany it felt completely different. I had a nagging urge to get closer to her and make her happy. Her skirt rode higher as she shifted, flashing smooth thigh that made my mouth water.

“So tell me, how do you feel about me right now?” Her voice sounded different somehow, more interesting to listen to. My pulse hammered in my ears.

“You are my friend,” I responded slowly. The words tasted true on my tongue.

“Yes I am. See how easy that was to realize. If I am your friend, how do you feel about me calling you Jake?”

“It seems inappropriate. You are still my student.”

“It seems that way, right? But I will still call you Jake and I want you to address me as Britt. You will do that for me, right?”

“Of course, Britt.”

“Very good, Jake. Look at you, such a big guy and you can’t help but sit and stare at my amulet.” She was right again. I was still aware of my body and the muscles I had worked hard to maintain. Normally it was easy to flex them and spring into action, but right now I couldn’t be bothered. The pendant in front of me was more important. My cock throbbed visibly now, aching for release.

“And regardless of how smart you are, when you watch my amulet you can’t keep yourself from believing every word I tell you. Your mind isn’t strong enough to resist the power of my amulet.”

“My mind…”

“That’s right, Jake. Your eyes are following my amulet and your mind is following my voice. You can’t help yourself.”

“I can’t help myself.”

“And each second you watch my amulet, your mind is getting more open, more suggestible. Feel it happen. Feel your mind weakening and opening itself to outside influence.” I watched the swinging of her pendant and the pressure on my mind renewed itself. This time I wasn’t able to offer any resistance. I just felt my will waver and dissipate. I couldn’t resist the push. My mind wasn’t strong enough to deal with this, and each swing made it even weaker. Her free hand brushed my thigh, sending sparks straight to my dick.

“So, Jake, tell me. Why do you think you became a teacher?”

“Because I believe teaching is a noble purpose.”

“False. Keep looking at the pendant and realize that you’ve been lying to yourself.” My eyes followed the pendant and my mind followed her voice. They were relentless. I needed to submit.

“I have been lying to myself.”

“You became a teacher because you like looking at young girls.”

“I like looking at young girls.”

“You do, and you always looked for an excuse to make it happen, to maintain a steady stream of young girls in your life. Teaching was a perfect excuse. You wanted a position of power where you could look at their innocent faces, watch their petite bodies, and have a steady stream of pretty tits and tight asses going through your office. It arouses you to have that power and to keep looking at them.” I wanted to protest, but instead I kept watching the swinging pendant. Everything Britt said seemed wrong and shallow, yet her words echoed in my mind and everything else felt insignificant. I couldn’t help taking her words in. My hand drifted to my lap, gripping my hard cock through my pants.

“When you deal with a girl, you are inclined to give her preferential treatment, and if she shows a little more skin and lets you watch, you’re willing to abandon your principles. Short skirts, tank tops, sheer and provocative clothing make you overlook their shortcomings. When a girl dresses like this for you, she doesn’t need to be smart or know the proper answers. You will still let her pass just for a chance to see her again. And if a girl dressed this pretty asks you for a favor, you will be inclined to do it for her. You believe that sexy girls should be appreciated and rewarded.” Her pendant swung back and forth. My body still wouldn’t move. I kept watching and my mind absorbed everything she told me. I believed each word. It felt like she had read my innermost thoughts. My fingers itched to touch her exposed skin.

“Can you tell me why you became a teacher?”

“I’ve become a teacher to look at young girls. I like watching their firm bodies and I like when they wear revealing clothing for me. If they do, I let them pass. Nothing else is important for me.” Britt smiled wider, stepping between my spread legs. She hiked her skirt up, revealing soaked black panties, and pressed my face to her dripping pussy. “Good boy, Jake. Now eat this cunt like you were born to.” I licked her slick folds hungrily, tasting her sweet musk as she moaned and ground against my tongue. Her hand fisted my hair while the other kept the amulet swinging. “Fuck yes, right there, suck my clit harder.” My cock leaked pre-cum into my shorts as I thrust two fingers into her tight heat, pumping deep. She came hard, flooding my mouth with hot juices, her thighs clamping my head. “Now fuck me, Jake. Ram that thick dick in my pussy and fill me up.” I stood on shaky legs, freed my throbbing cock, and slammed into her from behind as she bent over my desk. Skin slapped loud and wet with every thrust, her ass rippling under my hands. “Harder, Jake, pound this cunt, make me your slut.” I grunted and obeyed, balls slapping her clit until she screamed another orgasm around my shaft. The pressure built fast. I buried deep, cock pulsing as I exploded inside her, cum flooding her soaked pussy while she milked every drop. My vision whited out in pure ecstasy, body shuddering against hers as the bond sealed us tight.