I'm not a filthy fucking slut.

"I'm not a filthy fucking slut." You say calmly.

The woman's voice sounds intrigued. "That's not what you said before we started. So you don't have any issues with your levels of promiscuity and lifestyle? Your level of self control when aroused?"

"Never have, never will." You say smugly.

"I see. A time waster. Do you even believe in hypnosis?"

"Not even a little. A bunch of hocus pocus."

"Well then." The hypnotist sounds angry now. "If I'm just a fraudster, then you won't mind me saying this. Listen closely to my voice. From now on, for the rest of your days, you will steadily grow in arousal, slowly but surely, at all times. Going a whole day without an orgasm will leave you desperately aroused and struggling to focus on anything else. Furthermore, you can never orgasm from self masturbation - whenever you get to the edge via self masturbation, you will be compelled to slap yourself painfully on your pussy and clit until the edge has gone away."

"Funny, but hypnotism doesn't actually work. Especially not like this. This isn't some stupid world that runs on porno logic, you know."

"Of course. Then you won't mind me giving you one final new instruction. You can only orgasm when you are the submissive in a sexual encounter. The more rough, brutal, filthy, and fucked up your experience has been, the more intense and satisfying your orgasm will be."

"Very funny. So in your mind, you're hypnotizing me to become a needy submissive slut? What a power trip fantasy you must be on. A complete joke." You say, still very calm and feeling very relaxed.

"When I count down to zero and snap my fingers, you will awake from your trance, and your new instructions will settle deep into your subconscious. Permanently. Three, two, one, zero."

You hear a loud snap of fingers, and then you feel re-energized. You open your eyes and sit up, seeing that therapist's office that you saw in the mirror. Returning to her chair behind a large oak desk is a woman in her 30s with a tight figure-hugging top and a smirk on her face. The name card at the front of the table says 'Dr. Willow, Hypnotherapist'.

{if@ images > 2}

{endif}Your rational mind slowly returning, you snarl at the woman. "I'm done with this farce."

And then you squeak with surprise, noticing for the first time that your voice is much higher pitched. You look down, and see a huge rack of cleavage staring back at you.

Oh my god, all that stuff that happened in the hall of mirrors, it's all true! {if originally male == true}I've really been transformed into a woman, and **** to take on her life{else}I'm really stuck living a different woman's life{endif}!

"Agreed." Dr. Willow replies to your previous statement. Her expression has become a lot more severe, and serious. She reaches for the landline phone on her desk and presses speed dial.

{if@ images > 2}

{endif} She gives you a dominant smirk as she speaks. "Harold, please escort Miss Blossom from the building, and then send in my 1 O'Clock appointment. Oh, and if Miss Blossom resists, or ever tries to enter this building again, you are to strip her, **** her asshole, and then throw her out onto the street."

"You've got to be fucking kidding. What sort of fucked up empty threat is that?!" You stammer angrily.

"You think it's empty? Try him. If he leaves you too sore, he might get a hefty fine, but as it's part of his work duties, I'll be able to offset the expense against the business's taxes."

"A fine?!" You rebuke with incredulity.

But then you remember the woman's words from earlier.

'Modern human society may in some cases have evolved somewhat differently.'

So if she's not just pulling your chain, perhaps violent sexual **** carries a bizarrely low penalty in this world? What about other crimes?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Harold opening walking into the room. He's taller than six feet tall, and has a very manly, muscular figure. He looks very serious, and seems more suited to being a bodyguard, bouncer or evil villain's henchman, rather than a secretary. He folds his arms as he looks at you, and nods his head towards the door expectantly. You look at your reflection in the office window, and see a diminutive 5 foot tall young woman, with large breasts and a figure-hugging, provocative black dress. There's absolutely no chance you come out on top in any physical altercation.{if@ images > 2}

{endif}{if images == 2}

{endif}