Usual Messing Around

"Two... One... and awake! Fully refreshed and ready to act on all your triggers!"

You come to in a kneeling position on the cafeteria floor, a funny taste in your mouth and Marissa finishing tying up her enormous boots before you. All around people are throwing out what's left of their lunches, returning trays and heading to class. You must have lost twenty minutes at least.

You scurry back from Marissa, crab-walking in your haste and looking anywhere but at her. If she put you under, her tits, ass or feet could be as dangerous to you as her eyes.

You have to figure out what she did as quickly as possible, to avoid running into any triggers. You see Brad in the crowd, he was sitting with you! You rush over.

“Hey Brad, umm… what happened after Marissa sat down with us?”

“Oh, John, it was classic!” He chortled. “She had you lick both your pudding cups off of her feet!”

That explains the taste, anyways. “Anything else?”

The lunkhead looks confused, which is pretty alarming to you at the moment.

“Come on, man. You know she can leave triggers and stuff. She implied she did and it’s freaking me out!”

He shrugs. “I didn’t notice anything like that.”

So either the triggers are a bluff to mess with you, or she hypnotized the entire table to ignore or forget them, or they just didn’t notice with the spectacle you’re pretty sure the whole cafeteria saw. Your face flushes, but humiliation takes a distant backseat to paranoia.

This is why you hate dealing with Marissa.

It’s not unusual at all that you feel a need to go to the bathroom in the period after lunch. What is new is how you uncontrollably start jerking off into the urinal, imagining yourself licking Marissa’s perfect feet in front of everyone.

As you get close, your off-hand forms a slight cup in front of and below your sick. When you explode you scream “I love being a cumslut!” And after a few seconds milking the last drops from your manhood, you slurp and lick and suck the bitter salty juice from your fingers. You’re repulsed, but can’t stop yourself.

As you wash the stickiness from your hand, a guy you don’t recognize and didn’t even see in the bathroom is staring at you. You grin sheepishly and avoid eye contact as you rush to get back to class. Guess that answers whether she left any surprises in your cranium.

Nothing else triggers you for the rest of the school day, or the walk home. You lock yourself in your room away from wild stimuli and judging eyes, and start going through some of Marissa’s old favorite triggers. Nothing. No cumming for pineapple, no weird attractions in a cursory porn search. You write down everything you can remember in this years new additional volume of the “Marissa’s hypnotism journal” and wonder if the bathroom cum-eating will be part of your daily routine.

You feel a little hot, but not enough for the air conditioner. In fact, you take it out of the window entirely to let in the cool breeze as you finish up your homework and prepare for bed.

Coming back from your shower and teeth-brushing, you start to see Marissa on your bed. You look away and prepare to yell, never in all last year’s trials did she come into your home!

“Hush, silly boy” she said, “and sleep for me.”

You remembered nothing more.