No tenga miedo, I’m your papí

When you’ve spent half your life with someone, you learn a lot about them. I know, that’s an obvious statement, but seriously, you learn things you didn’t even know that you know. I knew what shampoo Ash preferred (Pantene ”only because I get split ends… it doesn’t smell girly.”), his favorite drink (Malibu Sunset ”Its manly… it has rum in it.”), his favorite song, (“Treat Me Like A Slut” ”you can really dance to it.” yeah, that one was loaded with subtext), and you don’t live with someone for three years without learning what their go-to porn is for rubbing one out.

That’s why it was absolutely no surprise to me when I burst through the door like Jack Nicholson in The Shining to find him spanking it to a sissy hypno vid. Now don’t get me wrong, those things don’t work as advertised. If flashing lights and spinning colors were enough to induce the Marx Teilraum state, then the government would be broadcasting mind control signals like we lived in an Alfie Bester novel. Yes, some of the better produced ones might be effective, but by and large, it’s mostly just fast images and suggestive voices, playing with binaural ASMR to allow the viewer the illusion of trance and give them an excuse to live out their fantasies while giving them the out that they don’t have agency in it, enabling a guilt-free wank. Sissy hypno videos don’t make sissies. They let sissies express themselves. So knowing what I did about what was going on in Ash’s head, that wasn’t too shocking. The surprise was what he was doing with the dildo.

Honestly, I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe a part of me hoped he’d have it up his ass, but what I saw didn’t disappoint me. Let’s just say that I wasn’t going to have to work too hard on his gag reflex. It was truly impressive how much of it he got into his throat.

I’m not sure whether he saw my reflection in his screen, or if it was the sound of the door slamming open, but he spun in his chair, the mirror image of my eight inches lodged in his esophagus, tears streaming from his eyes and white milky gag spit all over his chin, with the fingers of his right hand curled around the cutest little erection I’ve ever seen. His eyes locked on mine in a combination of fear, embarrassment, and lust, his face tomato red with exertion and excitement, and his delicate hand pumping away, his body’s only motion. I have no idea what was playing through his headphones, or if that mattered, but the standoff was broken when his eyes rolled back in his head, and his face contorted as his little pecker shot out a pathetic volume of cum onto his legs and the floor.

Seizing the moment, I strode forward and ripped his headphones off. “Is this what you fucking want?”

He was exactly where I wanted him, his eyes still unfocused in post-orgasmic bliss. I simultaneously ripped the dildo from his slack jaws and wiped my fingers over his thigh, causing him to shudder, coming up with a bit of his jizz, which I quickly stuffed between his lips. The reaction of sucking is one of the most basic of human instincts, and he’d already been doing it with the dildo, so I can only guess that his lower brain functions saw my digits as an adequate replacement, as he slurped his own cum from them almost automatically.

Using his mouth as a handle, I spun his chair back around to face the screen, which was flashing repeated one second clips of girls sucking cock interspersed with a strobing pink. “Is this what you fucking want? Is this what you are?” I roared the questions out at him rapid-fire, his already overloaded and blissed out brain struggling to keep up as he gently sucked at my fingers.

He nodded. He was mine.

I pulled my finger back out of his mouth and jerked his head back by the hair so he was staring up at me, our eyes only inches apart. “Are you a fucking sissy? Do you want to fucking suck cock?” Staccato bursts of words, keep him off balance! His lips were still shaped into an ‘O’ and moving as if sucking. Lower brain functions were clearly in control. “Do you want to fucking suck my cock?” His already glazed eyes dilated further, information overload combining with lust. I could see his pathetic little prick engorging again. I rapidly moved my hand over his eyes and intoned in an authoritative voice, ”Sleep!”

No sooner had the syllable left my lips than he slumped in the chair, a boneless pile of flesh as his upper brain function seized on the one thing that would get him out of this situation… oblivion.

Shock and confusion inductions work because the conscious mind is like water flowing through a ditch. When obstructions occur, water takes the path of least resistance. The same thing happens with the mind, and like that water, you can create both the obstruction and the escape path. Try this experiment. The next time you’re at a convenience store, tell the clerk to have a nice day before they get the chance to say the same to you, and watch their face. You’ll see it, only for a split second, but definitely there. They’ll freeze while their brain tries to keep up with what just happened. Changing the script like that causes the brain to short circuit for a second. A shock induction uses that split second to pry the whole mind open by giving it somewhere else to escape to. A confusion induction does much the same thing. Look up the Eriksen handshake some time. Instant inductions like that are used frequently by stage magicians like Criss Angel because they’re flashy and work as a beautiful power move to establish the power of the illusionist. Therapists also use them as a time saver, but they only produce a light trance to start off with, which makes them less suitable for therapeutic work than a classic relaxation technique.

“Ashley listen to me and relax. Every word I say takes you deeper and leaves you more open to me. Every breath you take lets you sink down deeper, deeper and deeper. And the deeper you go the better you feel.” I started stroking his hair as I spoke to him, guiding him down.

(Title lyrics: “Caress Me Down”, Sublime)