Trick or Trick, Spell My Feet

A Halloween Hypno-Fetish Story

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This story contains adult content and non-consensual acts. If that isn't what

you want to read about, please skip it (and the majority of works in my gallery).

Inspired by and dedicated to Maurislave, whose fun and sexy

hypno-fetish stories are well worth your time. She graciously allows me to write

about her in fulfillment of my own fetishes, for which I am most appreciative.

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Vine entered the house cautiously, taking in all aspects and every detail of it.

The first thing the dark clad and complexioned superheroine noticed was the shoe rack by the door. It all but overflowed with a variety of discarded female boots, high heels, flats, sneakers, stockings, tights, and socks. This told her that she had come to the right place.

She proceeded stealthily down the long, dimly lit foyer filled with spooky, seasonal decorations. Her wedge boots contained nano-tech that allowed her to move even more silently than in her bare feet (and also change shape into various other forms as needed, such as stilettos for delivering painfully acute kicks in combat).

Muffled noises and a sliver of amber light emanated from beneath a closed door at the end of the hallway. She approached carefully, ready to open it and face anything. She reached out. Took hold of the knob. Turned it. Pushed inward.

A few dozen attractive women in costumes filled a large, holiday-themed room. They stood, sat, ate, drank, talked, danced, laughed, and more or less displayed normal party behavior. Some wore costumes, while others wore thematic clothing. All were barefoot, as Vine knew they would be. None paid her any mind.

She entered the room and walked through the crowd, scanning for any signs of trouble or duress. She knew those things were here. Finding and fixing them was her mission.

One thing Vine noticed was that all the costumes were superheroine outfits. Upon closer inspection, she realized that they were actual uniforms rather than replicas. This wasn’t her home city, or she would’ve know immediately that the women were actual superheroines wearing their actual outfits. But even without knowing these women, she could tell by their authentic garb and athletic physiques that they were all the real deal.

A bevvy of barefoot superheroines together in one room spoke of one thing to Vine: mind control. She had plenty of experience with it, having been subjected to it more times than she cared to admit or remember. The question was, who was the mind controller and what were they up to?

“Vine! What a pleasant surprise to see you here!”

Whirling around, Vine faced a non-descript man wearing formal attire accented by Halloween adornments. She knew him. She despised him. She scowled at him and enacted a particular toe flex that instantly changed her wedges into stilettos in preparation for kicking his ass.

“You look lovely, as always. Although–”

The man ran his gaze up and down her, frowning slightly at the sight of her boots.

“My dress code for the ladies is, as you know, bare feet. If you’re going to stay, I must insist that you follow it.”

“Cyril Wellington. It’s neither pleasant, nor a surprise to see you here. To hell with your dress code. I’m not staying. Neither are you. Neither are they. I’m freeing them and taking you in.”

“If I were anyone else, I would be very worried. But, your threats are empty. You are staying here, just as I am, just as my guests are.”

“Your guests? That’s rich. You mean your hypnotized subjects.”

“Tomayto, tomahto. The point is, you’re one of my guests now, as well.”

He stared pointedly at her, his eyes gleaming and sparkling in a way that no one else’s did or could.

Vine knew the seductive, irresistible power of that stare. She had fallen victim to it before. She had lost her will to it. Lost her mind. Lost her self. Done his bidding. Been his slave. Others needed tools or machines to control minds. Cyril needed only those eyes.

She stared back at him defiantly. And smiled.

Then, she spun and kicked, catching him in the stomach with her stiletto heel and sending him flying.

“I’m not your guest, nor your hypnotized thrall. Soon enough, these heroines won’t be, either. Now get up and come with me. Or don’t. I’ll be just as happy to drag you out of here by your hair.”

Shocked and dismayed by Vine’s outburst, several of the party-goers knelt down and helped their host to his feet. Others surrounded her, taking up combat stances.

Brushing himself off, Cyril waved away the enthralled heroines who stood ready to fight Vine on his behalf. The women followed his nonverbal command and returned to their revelry as if nothing had happened. Then Cyril looked long and hard at the heroine who had resisted his power and easily felled him.

“Your eyes are different, and it’s not just the light. Contact lenses? Yes, I think so. With filters or some chemical property that shields your eyes.”

Vine said nothing but continued smiling. She had won. Him guessing how was irrelevant. Pulling a pair of handcuffs from her utility belt, she held them out to him.

“The party is officially over. Let’s go.”

“My party isn’t over until I say so. It’s Halloween, and I say it will go all night. Won’t it, Violet Witch?”

Ready once again to pummel Cyril–and also to defend herself against any brainwashed heroine who tried to stop her–Vine couldn’t believe it when she felt a hand on her shoulder. How had anyone gotten past her guard to get within reach of her?

She turned to see a lithe woman clad all in purple–from tapered tiara to makeup and from cape, bodice, gloves, and tights to toenail polish. The woman’s grasp on her shoulder was firm but gentle.

Vine wasn’t having it.

“Move it or lose it, Witchy.”

The Violet Witch gestured with her free hand and sang out a few eerily alien yet dulcet words. Before Vine could act, she found herself frozen in place. The Witch continued her siren song, smiling sweetly and caressing the ensorcelled heroine’s cheek.

A growing warmth spread through Vine’s body, soothing and relaxing her. At the same time, a pleasant fogginess blanketed her mind. She tried to shake off both feelings, but as the song continued, the feelings intensified.

“Put her under. Deeply. All the way. Ensure no spark of resistance remains.”

Nodding her obedience to Cyril, the Witch went on weaving her magic. Vine swayed on her feet, her mind and body craving more of the seductive stimuli being fed to her by the enchantress’s intoxicating spell. The Witch happily provided what the heroine desired, increasing her thrall’s pleasure and in turn deepening her submission.

Affter a minute or so, the casting of the spell ended. Vine now slouched and wore a sleepy, contented grin. The Witch turned to her master, bowed, and then returned to the party.

Cyril eyed the handiwork of his magical slave appreciatively.

“My dress code for the ladies is, as you know, bare feet.”

“...Bare…feet…”

Vine flexed her toes in a specific way, and her nanotech boots retracted into anklets, leaving her feet bare.

“Much better.”

“...Much…better…”

"This is how you should always be: barefoot and obedient."

"...This is how I should always be...barefoot and obedient..."

“I’m curious how you came to be here. If this were your city, I would’ve invited you–ensuring, of course, that you were properly brainwashed before arriving, so as to void any unpleasantness as we just experienced. But it isn’t your city, and I didn’t invite you. So, tell me what brought you here.”

Vine did as instructed and told Cyril about the intelligence she’d received and the clues she’d followed that brought her to this house. She hadn’t known exactly what she’d find here, but she knew dastardly deeds were afoot and that people might be in trouble.

“Afoot, indeed. As for trouble, well, that’s subjective. I see no trouble here. And neither do you. No trouble at all.”

“...I see no trouble here…no trouble at all…”

“Just a bit of bother, and that’s all taken care of.”

“...Just a bit of bother…and that’s all taken care of...”

“Now that your brain is washed clean of all your heroic and violent predilections, and you’ve fully embraced the dress code, I think I can safely awaken you from your trance and allow you to enjoy yourself at this fabulous party.”

Cyril snapped. Vine blinked. Shook her head. Straightened her posture. Looked around. Found Cyril with her gaze. Stared at him.

Then, she grinned and threw her arms around him in a bearhug.

“Cyril! I’m so glad to see you here!”

“Likewise, my dear. You look lovely, as always, from head to toe.”

“Thank you!”

“Now, I must pull myself away and attend to some business. Please enjoy yourself in the meantime. When I rejoin the festivities, we’ll meet up again.”

“And then, can we maybe attend to some business of our own?”

Vine pressed close to him and slowly drew her foot up his leg until it wasn’t on his leg any longer. She scrunched and splayed her toes once, and then again. And then she let her foot fall gently back to the floor.

“Oh yes, my dear. We will definitely attend to some business of our own….”