Hypnovember 2023
Prompts : 14.Tone, 20.Chime
For ProfessorWolf, featuring Bastien/CaineLatrans
By Limewah
18+

The gallery was completely cleared out, stripped clean like a bleached skeleton in a desert. The lack of statues and art made the acoustics of the museum even more harsh than usual. It made each click of the muscular bat’s boots reverberate like a whipcrack. The museum curator walking alongside him flinched with each step, his skittering shuffle contrasting with the superhero’s elegant stride.
Bastien walked with his hands behind his back, his tuxedo-like bodysuit straining against his broad, muscular frame. The bat’s chiselled face was impassive, his red eyes scanning the blank room. The acoustics - not to mention that incessant buzzing of the fluorescent lights - were stinging his particularly sensitive ears, but he wasn’t about to show weakness among the common folk. It wouldn’t be very becoming of a hero, particularly one who didn’t bother with a secret identity.
“So, you found absolutely no clues?”
“Not a single one,” the vole walking alongside him said. The curator of the museum was about a third of Bastien’s height, and seemed to be getting smaller by the second. “All the cameras were off, none of the alarms were triggered. A few of our staff haven’t turned up for work today, so they were probably in on it.”
Bastien’s eyes were already alighted on a podium that once held a several-tonne statue of a bird in flight, reaching up towards the sky. It wasn’t completely barren. A small metal stand was on it, from which was balanced a stripe of metal tubes, dangling, unmoving, looking a little like a deconstructed pan pipe.

“What’s that?” He asked, gesturing in its direction.
“What’s wh-... oh. Oh, that wasn’t there before.”
“Are you quite sure about that?” Bastien walked towards it with his straight-backed, martial air.
“I’m p-positive…” the vole snivelled. “I think. Here, let me-”
“Don’t touch,” Bastien snapped. The chimes looked to be old, a little tarnished, perhaps made of brass or copper. They would probably make a detestable sound in here if disturbed. He clicked his tongue twice, and a long strip of linen cloth, made of pure psionic energy, materialised before him. It wove around each individual chime, dampening their sound and ensuring that, when the bat lifted the chimes up by the handle at the top, they were perfectly silent.
“I will be taking this for examination,” Bastien said. “We’ll see what we can do. In the meantime, I suggest doing a thorough background check of all of your staff. Though, I’m positive you had all those sorts of things in place already, yes?”

“...Yes.”
The pause before the vole answered said ‘no’. But that was of little concern to Bastien. The chimes were more important to him.
Just in case there was anything untoward about this old pile of metal, Bastien would take it to his private study rather than bringing it straight to the Squadron.
He felt it was important he studied it alone.

-

Once he was in his sound-proofed studio, Bastien could finally allow himself to relax a little, giving his overworked ears a break. h
When the chime was set down on a surface safely, Bastien clicked his tongue again, and the cloth wrapping vanished, leaving the chimes unadorned.
He would better be able to analyse their timbre here, without anyone breathing down his shoulder.
He changed out of his tight suit, leaving on his under-shirt and shorts as if he was about to hit the gym, before inspecting the clue.

There were no apparent booby traps, no explosives or hidden devices anywhere in or around the chimes. Perhaps it was just a symbolic calling card… from whom, though?
Bastien took one of the rough, hollow tubes, lifted it up, and let it go.
The ugly exterior belied a gorgeous sound. They rang and jingled in concert with each other in a bewitchingly beautiful manner. He closed his eyes and listened closely, trying to ignore the pure sense pleasure of the sound, or the way it vibrated from one side of the chimes to the other, back and forth like a Newton's cradle.
The sound gradually died out, dampened by the thick acoustic cushions built into the walls. He imagined it would have sounded far more impressive in that museum. 
But that was neither here nor there. There was something behind the sound, a clue or a giveaway of some sort.
Even if Bastien still didn’t know what he was looking for, he could keep trying. He was sure he was close.
He lifted one of the chimes at the edges, and let it go again.
…it was echoing a little longer this time. Or at least, he was imagining the sound continuing onwards.
His ears were well-tuned enough to tell the difference. Normally. But right now… he wasn’t quite as sure.
He’d have to keep the sound going. As the soft tinkling chorus of the chimes subsided, he brushed his hand against them to start them going again. He leaned in closer, turning his ear so the vibrations could slip right in there. There was something inside them. A message. For him.
No one would understand it if he explained it to them ; he didn’t quite understand it himself.

But he knew he had to keep listening. 
The more he listened, the more he began to notice another tone hidden within the chimes, something that didn’t normally belong there. A dog-whistle resonance that was totally unnatural. 
He brushed his fingers along the chimes, to keep the resonance sustained in his ears. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to see with his ears. To touch the contours of the snow-storm waves of sound as they curled and degaussed into rainbow shapes, before coalescing into -

-

“-an orgasm… one that will bring you ten times deeper, ten times more conditioned to my voice, ten times more obedient…”
The voice was soft, a little tired-sounding, gentle… he knew he recognised it. The unassuming sweetness should have struck dread into him. It was too late for that. He was past that point, far too brainwashed to feel that. 
He had been taught to hear the tones behind the wolf’s voice. The hidden cadences that only a superlative pair of ears like his could hear. Caressing waves of sound that were shortcuts directly to his pleasure centres, lighting up his nerves like they were hundreds of fairy lights. His mind was full of snow and static and flickering colour. 
And his bleary gaze was still drawn to the chimes just above his head, dangling and framed by a halo of bright light. They were only softly brushing against each other, the sound bathing his mind and clearing anything that kept him from listening to the Professor’s nice, mundane, cosy, calming voice. 
The Professor’s paw brushed gently against them, and they sang their song again. 
“Let my voice and the chimes comingle in that sleepy, malleable mind. Let them conflate. When you hear the chimes, you think of my voice, and when you hear my voice, you think of the chimes. This irresistible bliss. This is obedience. Do you like it?”

“Hhhhahhhn…” Bastien wasn’t touching himself, but the sound-waves from that voice and the chimes were like a warm mouth wrapped tightly around his dick. It was painfully hard, veins bulging - twitching desperately…
He could hear the slight tell tale click of the Professor’s mouth opening, just next to his ear.
“You’re definitely ready,” he said, his voice devoid of malice. “Ready to give into me, and let this bond between the chimes and my voice intertwine in that mind.”
Bastien was drooling, biting on his lips, his eyes sort of crossing inwards as if he was still trying to resist… or maybe just avoid cumming until he was commanded to-

“Good. Cum for me, hero.”
Bastien groaned as he came, his hips bucking violently in the air and making each thick rope of white seed arc out and drape over his sweaty, glistening body - some of them tapped and splattered against the chimes, before slowly drizzling and dripping down his body like warm icing.
“Good boy,” the professor said quickly before dipping away - not that Bastien noticed. The bat groaned and gasped with each new climactic pulse.
Good boy. The sound rang in the bat’s ears with each climax, recursing and strengthening each and every time, taking further and further shape in his mind.

-Good boy.
Bastien let go of the chimes. They clattered onto his foot, snapping him out of his stupor.
“Agh! Fuck-” he grabbed at his foot, noticing the long strand of drool now covering the front of his shirt. “Shitting Hell…”
He grasped at the chimes and yanked them back up, the pipes banging against each other quite harshly.
As it met his ears, his anger vanished, and was replaced with an intense feeling of shame. The sort of shame a pet might feel when faced down with a wagging finger and a disappointed grimace.
He couldn’t place the face in the sound, but it felt familiar…
His dick gave an errant throb, notifying him of its presence - and the greasy stain of pre in his underwear.
“Fuck,” Bastien muttered. “What the hell…”
He carefully set the chimes back on the table, delicately and gingerly. Every little gentle brush sent a shiver down his spine.
The more he got used to the wavelength, the more he understood the messages inside them. The feelings they awoke in him. And…
What was he doing with the chimes, again? There was a reason, but it was escaping his mind.
Maybe a few more strokes would remind him.
As his fingers stroked the chimes with the delicate touch of a harpist, his other hand drifted unconsciously between his legs. As his ears twitched, so did his shaft, and he pumped at it through his bulging trunks. 
Once again, drool began to slip from Bastien’s mouth as he stared at nothing in particular. Allowing the tones to play, allowing them to creep through his mind and settle in those little nooks and crannies that had been laid out for him. His red eyes went glassy and grey. 
The memory of that soft, gentlemanly voice coaxing him returned. Conveniently leaving out said voice’s intentions and designs, or the things he would do once the chimes drowned out his stream of consciousness entirely….
P-Ting!
Bastien’s phone - his civilian one - vibrated twice, and with it came a soft chime, like a spoon against a glass teacup. The bat dropped everything, seemingly uninterested in the mesmerising sounds. He slowly stumbled to the phone in a dreamlike state. His sleepy hands moved on auto-pilot, not even minding the slight smear of precum his thumb left on the screen as he turned on the camera.

–

Professor Wolf was admiring some of his new acquisitions. The museum heist was just for a few specific pieces, ancient artefacts he had a very keen interest in and had always wanted to study in detail. Once they’d been picked out, the guards he’d ‘employed’ to ransack the place would ‘discover’ the collection in a warehouse and return it all; one or two small, unimportant totems wouldn’t be missed. 

Still, it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give every piece a moment of appreciation.
The grey wolf was currently appraising some decently more modern sculptures, slowly meandering between the primary coloured spirals and pillars and baubles of perfectly smooth fibreglass. They almost looked like otherworldly instruments, and they cast colourful shadows on the walls of his study. A bit incongruous, but still pleasant. While this collection obviously wasn’t a keeper, he couldn’t help but admit the piece was excellent.
His glasses chimed, a little notification appearing in the corner of his left lens.

Bastien(Chime-slave)- 1 new photo

The wolf smiled and tapped the upper rim, and the image was projected with perfect clarity - he aimed it for one of the white curtains, pulling it a little more taut so the display wasn’t so distorted.
“Nice choice of angle,” Professor Wolf murmured. Bastien was holding the camera from up above, his blank face only sort of making eye contact with the camera. His erect cock, straining against his tight pants, was a very welcome backdrop - even though, for the professor, the blank mask of obedience was the real prize.
“Record message,” the professor said, noting the slightly huskier tone of his voice - this was riling him up. “Good Boy. I see you got your gift. I hope you’re enjoying it. I’ll see you soon, when I have another little job for you to pull off. Make sure to send me a photo of the aftermath. End Message.”

With that, he returned his attention to his new acquisitions - though, honestly, they didn’t quite hold a candle to that beautiful hunk of sensitive-eared muscle. Bastien would prove to be the real prize of the heist.