Hypnovember 2025 – 2. Puppet/Plush
I'd like to dedicate this one to @hypnokingtrevor. He has never, to my knowledge, done what happens in this story, but his style of hypnosis was in my mind when writing it.
CW: intox, noncon, plushies, themes of ab and regression but no ACTUAL ab and regression, fisting
It was only just past 10 when the bouncer kicked Trev and Rove out of the sports bar on Burelli Street. The two men stumbled about from intoxication, nearly bumping into a pack of co-eds on their way to a nightclub. Rove started yelling at the Samoan guy, who was built like a brick shithouse, but Trev grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him away.
"Don't even worry about it man. Look, my apartment is two blocks away, I have beers."
Rove wanted to fight though. The nerve of that guy. As Trev dragged his drunken friend along the sidewalk, Rove realised that he never knew Trev lived nearby. He'd never even been over to his friend's place.
"Don't worry about it, man. Don't worry about anything. Look, my place is just up here." He grabbed his friend and threw his arm over his shoulder, gesturing to the skyscraper up ahead. Rove craned his neck back, trying to see the top of the building, catching sight of the red lights of the helipad on the roof. Trev guided Rove through the foyer of the building and into the elevator.
Rove rested against the back wall and looked at his friend, with his slicked back hair and styled beard.
"I could have taken him Trev." He said, eyes flicking from his friend to the floor level indicator.
"No, you couldn't have. He'd have floored you."
"But nothing, you're a teddy bear compared to him." With that comment, Trev grinned at his friend, who just wobbled a bit, more alcohol than man at the current moment. The elevator dinged and Trev exited, Rove following in tow. He unlocked the door and opened it for Rove, saying "My casa's your casa."
Rove walked in and was... surprised.
He expected a modern downtown apartment. Beige paint, faux factory feature walls, some pot plants, and too much IKEA.
He didn't expect a nursery. The walls were papered with a pattern evoking a blue sky with fluffy white clouds and tiny rainbows, as a steam locomotive carried animal characters from panel to panel. The coffee table was a play table with shaped holes for blocks. The TV had a plastic frame with a cartoon dog on it. And in the corner a large pile of plush animals. Rove, in his drunken state, was so confused, he didn't hear his friend locking the door behind him.
"Take a seat, bud. I'll get you a brewski." Trev walked past him and into the kitchen. Rove stared at the couch. It was a soft cushioned thing made to look like some Japanese cartoon mascot or something -some kind of bear, he thought, with the arms of the chair being its arms.
Trev walked back into the room carrying two cans of beer, already opened. He passed one to his friend and said, not taking his eyes off of him;
"Yeah, this is my place. You want to see my playroom?"
Rove paused for a moment. He didn't quite understand what his friend was saying. He stood there, looking at him confused as Trev's took a sip of his beer. Rove asked him what he meant, before remembering he too had a beer and took a swig.
"I said. You want to see my playroom." Trev's eyes cut through him, as if Rove was made of cellophane. But, as he felt the beer trickle down his throat, he realised that yes. Trev was correct. He wanted to see Trev's playroom.
"Well, uh... yeah. Of course I do." It seemed so reasonable. So logical. Why wouldn't he want to see it? Whatever it was. Trev wrapped his free hand around Rove and guided him into the side hall of the apartment, to one of the bedrooms. It had similar decorations; this time a colourful green and yellow jungle environment with a precocious monkey night light on a bedside table. The bed itself, a big one with a soft cushioned mattress with a giraffe print comforter laid over it, had holes in the ends and some chains attached to it too.
Sitting on the bed was a life-sized toy. At first glance, it looked like a marionette puppet, made of painted wood, with strings hanging from its head, wrists, and feet. It looks uncannily like a real person though; a man in his mid-late 20s specifically. The lips were carved so they protruded in an unsettling way from the smooth painted face; itself a bizarre sight with rosy cheeks, ruby lips and eyes that were so detailed that from across the room they looked real.
"Dude, I..." Rove started, but Trev interrupted him. With a slap on his back, he said;
Rove looked down at his beer and, understanding the point of beer was to be drunk, took a big swig. He felt suddenly fuzzy in the head. More fuzzy than he normally did after a few beers. It was probably the weirdness of the apartment. Not anything sinister. Trev was his buddy. He wouldn't do anything suss.
"Do you like Mickey?" Trev asked, sipping his beer, as his free hand toyed with the hair at the back of Rove's neck. "You want to play with him?"
Rove looked over at Trev, who smiled back. He looked deep into Rove's eyes and took a sip of his beer. Trev guided Rove's can to his lips and bid him to finish his beer without a single word. He downed the can without breaking his gaze from his friend. Trev smiled wider and said;
"You want to play with Mickey, Rove."
And, Rove realised then, that Trev was right. He did. What a wacky toy Trev had. When Trev came over to Rove's place, they played NBA and Madden together. Trev was just returning the favour. Trev guided his friend to sit on the bed and then said he would show him a trick. Opening the side table, he took out a small wooden cross with strings hanging from it. Rove recognised it from The Godfather logo. Trev stood in front of Mickey and called his name, holding up the handle.
Suddenly the puppet sprang to life. It nodded and blinked and waved at Rove, sitting next to him on the bed.
"Hello Rove. My name is Mickey" As Trev's voice came out of those sculpted lips, Rove realised the puppet was not a toy. While it looked like one, with the white painted face and the woodgrain arms, they were clearly arms of a person. He looked up at the puppets face which showed no movement apart from the mouth. Rove didn't know how Trev was moving the puppet when the strings weren't connected or had anyway to move the mouth, but it was Trev's voice and that made sense. Trev had the handle thing. He moved it in Rove's direction and Mickey slid over.
"I want to play with you." The puppet got right up in Rove's face. He wanted to move back, but he did still want to play with Mickey. Apparently. He'd said he had. Hadn't he? Mickey's lips pressed against Rove's and Rove didn't know what to expect but it wasn't that. The lips felt soft, like normal person lips, even though they looked like carved wood. Rove found himself kissing the doll, despite himself. He heard Trev's voice speaking.
"You like him, man? He was so cute when I brought him home last week, I just had to keep him. He's always hard for me whenever I need him to be. And he never talks back."
Rove wasn't listening, his tongue was exploring Mickey's mouth and, yes, he felt the wood in his pants, jabbing into his side. Trev walked up behind the two of them and ran his fingers through Rove's short brown hair, while manipulating the puppet with his other hand. "You like playing with Mickey, don't you?"
Mickey moved back, and Trev held Rove's chin, guiding his gaze up to meet his own. Trev smiled warmly with his whole face. Rove felt disconnected. The warm fuzz of however many beers he had had was being replaced with something else. The adoration in Trev's eyes as he put down the puppet handle and passed Rove his beer, it gave Rove a feeling of love and affection he'd never known could come from another man.
Trev even helped Rove drink his beer. It tasted cool and refreshing. It made him think of how lucky he was to have a good friend like Trev, who let him play with his toys.
"Yes, Trev. I like your playroom."
"Good boy." He smiled. "You want to stay in my playroom."
"I want to stay in your playroom, Trev." The thought arrived in his mind unbidden, but wholly true and accurate. The thought of leaving the apartment to go back to his own place seemed like a fire made of nails and hate. Why would he leave Trev, his best friend ever, who gave him beer and looked at him with such love?
"I'm so happy. I knew when I first met you, you would make a good toy for me."
Trev leaned over and smooched him on the lips. Not a kiss, but a closed mouth passionate, messy lip on lip smooch. Rove felt his dick growing in his pants. Why hadn't Trev kissed him before? This was an amazing feeling. His lips were large and soft, and his facial hair tickled Rove's face.
"I love you, Trev." The words came without a thought. If Rove was loved, he must love back.
"Would you like to be my new plushie?" Trev caressed his cheek with a firm, loving hand. Rove melted into the touch and nodded.
"Yes Trev. I would like to be your new plushie."
Trev stood back and left the room, while Rove rose and removed his pants and shirt. He paused to finish his beer, thinking that he'd forgotten something. Something was wrong. Was it the fact that he was being fed beer in his friend’s childish playroom and being kissed and something about a plushie? Rove stood for a moment. Was that a wrong thought? What was wrong about it?
He drank his beer... had he always had a third can? Yes. He had it now, so he must have always had it. He took a sip. He imagined Trev's eyes and suddenly realised.
He wasn't naked. That must be it.
He removed his underpants and stood naked in the playroom, all 5 inches of his cock at rock hard attention. He looked around at the happy animals on the wall, then the marionette lying on the bed. His mouth felt empty, so he brought his thumb to his lips and began to suck. He looked at the doll, Mickey.
He used to know a Mickey. A builder, studying architecture, they were in the same fantasy football league. They'd gone out for drinks with Trev a few weeks ago, but then Mickey had texted everyone, saying he was going home. Maybe that's why Trev had this Mickey. To remember their friend. That was nice. Trev was nice. Trev's beer was nice. He drank more beer.
Trev came back into the room carrying a fuzzy onesie and a small plastic bag. He placed the onesie on the bed. It was brown and white. Like a dog. A fuzzy fluffy dog. Rove looked at it and smiled. Trev walked behind him and guided him to face the bed and bending him over, leaning forward, hands on the giraffe pattern comforter.
"Hey, my love, I need you to relax. Relax for Trev."
Rove stared at the onesie and relaxed. He breathed out and relaxed. He felt tension leaving his shoulders and relaxed. He felt Trev's hand on his spine and relaxed. He heard the snap of rubber on skin and relaxed. He felt Trev's hands pushing and massaging his butt cheeks and relaxed. He heard the cool squidge of lube and relaxed.
"Rove, babe. I'm going to make you a puppet now. That's OK?"
"That's OK, babe." He didn't need to worry about what that meant. Trev said it was OK.
Trev pushed apart his cheeks and Rove felt a hand at his hole. One finger slipped in, cold with lube and a gasp escaped Rove's lips.
"Would you like me to count, babe?"
"Y...yes, Trev... P..please."
"OK, that's one finger. One finger inside your control hole.
"Now, this is my second finger. Like how you finger a pussy. This is your pussy, and I'm fingering it. That's OK. You like it when Trev fingers your hole."
He slipped in a third and pushed his butthole wider.
"Three is a nice number. There are three of us here. There's you, and me, and Mickey. Three. Three fingers in your control hole. Three fingers to make your brain stop. Three fingers for you to know your place."
Rove moaned as Trev pushed his pinkie into his hole. It tickled, but Trev curved his hand around so it would fit. Rove felt stretched. Wide open. Bare naked. Exposed. He couldn't move unless Trev let him. Trev owned his control hole.
"That's right, I do. I own your control hole. 4 fingers, all the way in. When I reach 5, you'll be my hand puppet. A whole hand inside you makes you my puppet. Just my toy."
Trev's thumb tickled Rove's taint playfully, before sliding up and into his hole. He gasped. An entire fist inside him. A hand. Like a puppet. A hand puppet. Rove was a hand puppet. Rove was Trev's hand puppet. Trev flexed his hand and Rove felt his mouth moving. Trev's voice came out of it.
"My name is Rove and I am Trev's puppet."
Rove didn't know what to think. He was saying these things, so they had to be true. Trev flexed again, Rove's hole spasmed with sensation, precum leaked from his cock.
"My name is Rover and I'm a good puppy for Trev."
Rove...r? Was that his...?
"My name is Rover and I love it when Trev puppets his puppy."
Yes. That was true. Rover did love it. Trev took his fist out slowly, each inch giving him a tingle as Trev edged out. Coming out with a POP, Rover came in buckets over the comforter. Trev guided his head down to the mess and the puppy began to lick at the cream there.
Rover didn't know much. He was a dumb puppy, but he knew he needed to be in his onesie. Luckily Trev was able to help him there.
One foot, two feet, one hand, two hands, and then zippy up up up over the head. One, two, three, four, five. One for each finger that made Rover a plushie puppy puppet. Trev pushed Mickey the Marionette off the bed and lay Rover down on the mattress, straddling him.
Rover smiled, and panted with his mouth open and his tongue out. He was Trev's plushie puppy, and loved his playmate. He'd always loved his playmate.
Trev unzipped his pants and exposed his cock. Rover's mouth opened wide, knowing what it was for.
As Trev rubbed his cock on the plushies face, he whispered; "You're such a good plushie. So soft and cuddly. Nothing inside you but dumb stuffing. I love you puppy." He slipped into Rover's mouth as he spoke, calmly and lovingly. He told Rover how good plushies were cuddled and humped and kissed and they didn't need to think and how could they think with heads of cotton stuffing. Rover didn't understand this, but he sucked Trev's cock anyway. Trev was his best friend. That's what he did.
Trev came hard and pulled out spraying cream on Rover's face.
"Oh no, I messied up my plushie."
He smooched Rover again, a big messy kiss cleaning up his seed.
"All better." Trev rose from the bed and pulled his pants up, admiring his new plushie. Rover, his adorable cuddly dog. "Sleep tight my puppy."
Trev walked out of the playroom and turned the light off.
Rover couldn't sleep though. He was just a plushie and plushies didn't sleep. Licking the cream on his lips, he smiled. He was a good plushie.
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