CW: medical fetish, non-con, drugging, restraint, gynecologist appointment
“What seems to be the issue?” the doctor asked as he entered the room.
He didn’t even glance at Iris, immediately moving to grab gloves and pull them on as he settled at the computer. Iris was sat up on the exam table, wearing nothing but a baggy shirt with the blanket the nurse gave her covered her lap.
“I’m not entirely sure, doctor,” she lied. “The last time I had sex it was really painful so I figured I should get checked.”
The last time Iris had sex was over a month ago when she had one of her friends tied up and choking on her strap, no pain involved (for her, at least). Right now, she was at the end of a business trip and had decided to indulge herself in a gynecologist appointment; she played herself off as a hypochondriac that was usually too embarrassed for these kinds of appointments, but she reveled in the clinical setting, the latex gloves, the fantasy that one of her doctors might recognize her for the needy slut she was.
It was perfectly harmless, she told herself.
“I’m a little nervous about the exam,” she said as he looked at monitor.
“I can give you something for that,” he said dismissively. His tone made her clit burn. He quickly ran through the usual questions: her birthday, her weight, her history.
She saw him glance over at her as he typed and she thought his gaze lingered a bit.
“Okay,” he said suddenly getting up.
He turned away from her and opened a drawer. She heard him rummage and the sink was turned on for a moment. When he faced Iris, the doctor held a small paper cup and two pills out to her. She took and swallowed them without hesitation. The doctor smiled at her and she felt a chill go down her back.
Iris felt like she’d just agreed to something.
“I’ll start slow while that kicks in,” the doctor said. “Now I want you to scotch yourself down and you can put your feet in the stirrups.”
Iris did as she was told, the warmth in her stomach growing until she finally laid back. She closed her eyes and steadied her breath, willing herself not to get too excited. She could picture the doctor sitting on his swivel chair near the edge of the table, his focus on her exposed cunt.
He touched the back of her thighs first then moved his hands to her labia, gently spreading the skin further. She swore she felt his breath on her clit.
“No obvious external damage,” he noted. His hands moved quickly, pressing different spots to check for any abnormality. “No swelling or lumps.”
One hand dipped down and was slowly dragged back up, her wetness on his fingers. Iris let out a huff at the brief contact on her clit.
She’d had more than enough gynecologist appointments to know her doctor was being a bit handsy, but she reasoned that she was letting her fantasies color her perspective.
“How are you feeling now,” the doctor asked.
Warm. She realized she was starting to feel very warm all over and her heart was racing a bit. She was sure she could hear her heartbeat now that she focused.
“I feel warm,” she answered, feeling a tinge of fear. “And, like— very warm?”
“Good, good,” the doctor said, his hands pressing and feeling around again. His touches lingered longer, alternating between light caresses and harder massaging motions. “Let me know if your vision gets a bit funny.”
Iris opened her eyes and saw that the lights above her appeared more streaky, with colors at the edges. Alarmed, she moved her head to look around, but her vision seemed to lag behind a second. The room seemed to be at an odd angle. She closed her eyes again.
“Vision is definitely fuzzy,” she said.
She felt so warm. She could feel her shirt was a bit wet from sweat already.
The touches stopped but she kept still, relaxing into the fuzziness filling her head. She heard Velcro being pulled apart and felt something on her ankle. A coarse fabric was wrapped around her leg and she felt it pull taught as the cuff was secured to the stirrup.
Even if she could sit up, she was sure it would take her a minute to get out of that.
“Good.”
Iris felt a hand teasing the entrance to her cunt and moaned. The panic she’d felt was already dissipating. Her body began to move of its own accord, lightly grinding into his hands.
“Good girl,” he said and a wave of pleasure coursed through her. One finger began to work in and out of her. “You’re not the first slut to come looking for a little thrill, I saw the looks you were giving me. I think I’ve figured out your problem, you just need a good fuck.”
Iris found herself nodding, unable to think about anything else. The finger retreated and she felt the head of his cock run through her folds.
“I’m going to make this hurt,” he warned.
Iris started babbling, pleading for the teasing to end.
“Oh I know, I know,” he said condescendingly.
One of his hands moved to her hip, using his leverage to pin her hips down. He entered her quickly, making Iris arch up. Her legs tried to move but the cuffs and doctor held her tight. She sobbed from the combination of pleasure and pain, but quickly found herself trying to grind down onto him more. He chuckled.
RANDOM HYPNO PROMPT THAT CAME TO MIND THIS MORNING:
A superhero fights a villain who has the power to hypnotize anyone and uses this ability to terrorise civilians and commit crimes. The hero ends up hypnotized but manages to save the civilians, but the villain gets away.
However, the hero finds themselves addicted to the feeling of hypnosis and allows themselves to be hypnotized by the villain every time they interact.
prompt: what about someone who takes smut requests on commission and this one domme just keeps giving them request after request until their brain is just porn and they can’t go more than a few moments without even writing or fucking themselves
prompt from @demonierdaisies-deactivated2025 (if anyone knows if they have a new blog, lmk!!)
content warnings: transman refers to genitals using "cunt" and "clit", hypnosis, dubious consent, reference to kidnapping
Lincoln bit his lip as his fingers flew across his keyboard. He could type fast and edit later, he just had to get the words out as he had them.
It felt so good to be writing again.
He’d started writing for commissions again nearly six months ago. Things had been slow at first; he hadn’t been getting more than one request a week and he’d been working so slow that they would pile up. He had to close his submissions several times already.
It’d been so long since writing had felt as natural as it did now and he only had one person to thank for it.
***
MissBeahave: I think your writing is phenomenal. I would love to request a 5,000 word piece if you’re up for it.
Writer-Liter: Of course, I have a form you can fill out about your prompt. A 5,000 word piece is $60; you can see a more comprehensive list of my pricing and additional options on the form as well.
MissBeahave: Would you be willing to let me just describe the idea if I tip nicely?
Writer-Liter: I certainly won’t turn that down. Explain away and I will do my best.
To his surprise, the next message was an audio file. She sent another message before he hit play.
MissBeahave: You might want to wear headphones if anyone else is around.
Lincoln thought of his neighbors and the paper thin walls of his apartment building and decided to follow her advice. Headphones snuggly in place, he hit play.
The quality was good. There was some noise in the background, but her voice was crisp and clear. She had a pleasant lilt.
His eyes drifted closed as he listened. The background noise seemed to buzz through him. Her voice rose and fell gradually. He found his head was softly drifting side to side as he listened.
Lincoln was surprised when the sound suddenly cut off. He looked at his phone to see that the audio had ended. The time signature said it was 15 minutes, but he swore it couldn’t have been that long; he hadn’t been paying any attention..
He nearly played the audio again when he suddenly remembered the prompt. Of course he knew what the prompt was, how could he forget?
Lincoln moved to his desk, opening his laptop and a new writing document. He skipped his warm up and began writing immediately.
The words came quickly, his keyboard clacking away.
She’d given him plenty of wiggle room to play with, specifying only that it should be about a transman masturbating to the idea of a woman dominating him. It didn’t strike him as odd that such a simple premise would require a 15 minute explanation.
He based the character off himself, of course, writing how he would caress his clit, suck on his fingers, and moan as if he were being used like a fucktoy.
Lincoln’s face burned as he wrote the character counting himself down to a climax, pretending he was finally being given permission to cum.
Lincoln took three days to finish the piece. Each time he came back to it, he’d listen to the recording she’d sent again to refresh the idea in his head. He had the same burst of inspiration each time.
When he looked back over the piece, he’d found plenty to edit but the bones of the first draft had been solid. He finalized everything in the third draft and used a random name generator to choose a new name for the protagonist; he hadn’t meant to give the main character his name in the first draft, but he’d written it so quickly he hadn’t even noticed.
His heart was racing as he published the piece, messaging MissBeahave the link.
MissBeahave: Oh, it’s perfect. You did such a good job.
Lincoln glowed reading her praise.
Writer-Liter: Thanks! I had a lot of fun with this one. If you have any other requests, I would love to write for you again.
MissBeahave: I’m sure I’ll think of one soon.
She sent her next prompt two days later, sending a recording of the idea after sending payment.
Lincoln was impatient to start, sitting down with his headphones immediately. He felt a bit hazy as he opened a new writing document. He let the words out as they came to him.
He wrote about a transman being edged mindless by a femme dom. The teasing dialog he wrote for her made his core warm. The scene revolved around the transman spilling his secrets while his domme teased him, promising that once he shared a secret that she decided was embarrassing enough she’d finally let him cum.
Lincoln’s clit burned as he wrote the end: the main character left delirious and denied, drooling from pleasure, as his domme cleans him up and promises they can try again tomorrow. The domme tells him to thank her for not letting him cum and he sobs as he thanks her, feeling equally euphoric and tortured.
Lincoln posted his second draft, breaking away from his usual habit.
MissBeahave: So, so hot. You’re such a good writer. And you work so fast!
Writer-Liter: You flatter me, I’m only quick with your prompts. There’s something about your ideas, they’ve been lovely to work with.
MissBeahave: Oh?
Writer-Liter: Yea, I’ve just been struggling a lot with writing in general but your prompts feel like they’re getting me out of my writer’s block.
MissBeahave: I’m glad to hear they’ve been helpful. I promise to think up a new one soon.
***
By the fifth piece he wrote for her, he’d started posting his writing within 24 hours of receiving the prompt. He forced himself to fix up his first drafts, but again and again he found himself quickly skimming whole paragraphs carelessly. Typos and continuity errors didn’t seem to deter her from praising him; she said his ideas and structure made up for any little mistakes.
Their arrangement became almost routine, with her sending a new prompt nearly every other day for a whole month.
And then, silence.
Lincoln allowed six days to pass before he messaged her again.
Writer-Liter: Have any new ideas come to mind yet? I hope I don’t sound too desperate, but I won’t charge a commission fee if you send me a prompt sometime tonight.
MissBeahave: Are you trying to rush me? Your manners could use some improvement. If you’re going to beg, at least beg properly.
Writer-Liter: I’m sorry. Please, may I have a new prompt?
MissBeahave: I like to be called Mistress.
Writer-Liter: please, please, please, may I have a new prompt, Mistress?
MissBeahave: Good enough. Give me an hour.
Lincoln kept his phone in hand and waited with bated breath until the notification came that she’d sent a recording.
Lincoln glanced at the video length and froze. It was just over 47 minutes long.
Her other recordings hadn’t been more than 15 minutes.
Before he let himself dwell on what that might mean, he pressed play.
Lincoln was suddenly aware he was walking to his bedroom, his body pulsing with need.
He stripped quickly and let his hands roam up and down his body as he laid down. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations. His fingertips ran up and down his sides, sending shivers down his spine; any touch there always drove him crazy. He let his touch work up to his chest and neck. He skimmed his fingertips lightly, just enough to tickle his skin, as he moved back down to his sides, his hips, his thighs. He dipped one hand between his legs and groaned at the slightest contact to his clit.
Lincoln’s phone buzzed, pulling him up slightly from his haze.
Without checking the notification, he unlocked his phone and pulled up MissBeahave’s most recent recording, slipped his headphones back on, and hit play.
Lincoln realized slowly that he had stopped typing. He noticed it over and over, but couldn’t keep hold of the thought. He blinked dumbly at the screen and the words, wondering how he could stop typing when he didn’t remember starting to begin with.
Then he became aware of the thrumming of his body, the need still coursing through him, and his hands began to move again. He highlighted the document, copied, and published it to his page.
He desperately wanted to go back to touching, but he opened his messages and waited.
MissBeahave: I won’t lie, this new one might be my favorite.
Writer-Liter: This one came to me so fast I hardly remember writing it.
MissBeahave: I can only imagine. Your main characters are always so similar but I can’t complain. I’d be obsessed if I had a cute boy toy like that to play with.
Writer-Liter: I’ve been basing them all off of me, honestly.
MissBeahave: Oh yeah? That’s good to know. Perhaps you’ll slip a few details about yourself in that I can pick out. I know I could already tease you about all the things that turn you on.
Writer-Liter: You can always ask if you have questions. I think I’m a pretty open book.
MissBeahave: Some things are sweeter to learn indirectly. It’s a bit of a skill of mine to learn things people don’t always mean for me to know. My favorite are secrets that people don’t even know about themselves.
Writer-Liter: Have you learned any of my secrets yet?
MissBeahave: A few.
Lincoln’s heart was racing as his phone dinged, alerting him of a new recording MissBeahave sent. He closed his eyes, knowing he was going to listen but going back and forth on whether he should look at how long it was.
He could feel goosebumps.
Without letting himself look at the timestamp, Lincoln peeked with one eye and hit play.
When he was aware again, Lincoln was lubing up his favorite dildo already suctioned to his desk chair. Without missing a beat, he finished the preparations and pushed it into his cunt. With the toy fully seated inside himself, he opened a new writing document, set a timer for three hours on his phone, and set the new recording to play on loop.
He started typing as her voice started to flow into his brain. The haze was perfect. He had never cum from cockwarming, but he felt his pleasure rise and crest, getting right to the edge over and over.
Lincoln still felt fuzzy as he heard the timer go off. He looked at his desktop and saw he’d sent the first draft to MissBeahave twenty minutes ago and was already writing on a new piece as he waited for feedback.
Only pausing long enough to turn off his phone and remove his headphones, Lincoln kept typing. Every few paragraphs, the heat got too intense to bear and he would roll his hips and bounce on his toy, mewling at the feeling of getting close, so close, but never quite slipping over the edge.
MissBeahave: You’re so so cute, toy. Are you still working or do you need a new prompt?
Lincoln nearly sobbed at the idea of a new recording.
Writer-Liter: Please, please, a new prompt, please.
MissBeahave: How could I say no to that?
She sent the new recording immediately and Lincoln pressed play.
He’d posted the video before he felt totally coherent again. Watching it back, he was surprised but turned on at the noises he made. He watched his biggest toy slip in and out as he moaned.
“Only for you, Mistress,” he gasped in the recording. “I belong to you. All yours, Mistress.”
He blushed, embarrassed, but was too enraptured to look away from his phone. He barely considered taking the video down when he saw a new message come in.
MissBeahave: Good job, toy. I had no idea you were so ready.
Writer-Liter: I’ve never recorded something like that. I’ve never posted videos or pictures of myself online.
MissBeahave: Would you do it again?
Writer-Liter: For you? Yes.
MissBeahave: You’re such a perfect porn slut, you know?
Writer-Liter: I don’t know why it feels so good when it’s for you.
MissBeahave: you haven’t figured it out yet?
Writer-Liter: figured out what?
MissBeahave: that you were made to be my personalized porn pet.
Writer-Liter: I’m… fuck that’s so hot.
MissBeahave: you’re so cute.
An audio recording came in and Lincoln hit play immediately. In a daze, he grabbed his biggest toy and slid it back into his cunt, holding it in place as he grabbed a vibrator to torture his clit.
“Please,” he whimpered. Vaguely, he registered that he was responding to something in the recording as he listened, but he couldn’t quite remember what the voice in his ears was saying. “Please, Mistress, please, please.”
Tears streamed down his face. He briefly wondered why he wasn’t setting his phone up to record himself again, but part of him knew he was doing just what he was meant to. His body throbbed.
“I am a good boy, I’m doing just as I’m told,” he moaned. “I am a good boy.”
Lincoln was slumped against his pillows, sitting up just enough to keep the dildo in, his body shivering. The vibrator had turned off ages ago, but he still found himself bucking against it.
The first noise that his brain registered was the door to his room opening. The second was his bed creaking, feeling the mattress dip and sway with movement.
Hands gently removed his headphones and set them aside before trailing across his shoulders and down to his chest.
Lincoln let out a quivering moan.
“All fucked out, sweet thing?” a familiar voice whispered in his ear.
Lincoln could only grunt. His hips jerked weakly.
“Mmm, not quite I see.”
Hands turned him over, laying him on his stomach and pushing his legs further apart. She slowly pulled the toy out of his cunt. His eyes opened briefly, but he could only see his wall and the bed below him. He felt so empty without his toy and mewled at the loss.
“Shh, shh, I have you, Lincoln,” she said gently, her hands rubbing over his back and arms. “You’re gonna feel so so good.”
“Mistress?” Lincoln asked weakly.
“Still some thoughts in that head, hm?”
Two of her fingers slipped into his cunt easily. His back arched at the feeling.
“How?” His voice sounded hoarse.
“You asked for this, remember?” she answered with faux sympathy. She slipped a third finger in. “All those little stories and videos, you gave me everything I needed to know: your age, your name, your address. I even know that you followed my instructions and asked for the next 2 weeks off of work, so it’ll be awhile before anyone comes looking for you. We’ll be long gone before anyone notices you’re missing..”
Lincoln mewled as she curled her fingers inside him.
“There we go, sweet thing. You’re so brainless you’re not even listening anymore, are you?”
“Please,” Lincoln begged.
“Please what, toy?”
“Please let me cum.”
She smirked. “That’s how I know you’re ready to be mine.”
She pulled her fingers out of his cunt and quickly wrapped him in a blanket, steadying him on his feet as his knees threatened to buckle.
“I promise you’ll get to cum, toy,” she said, kissing his tear stained cheeks. “But we have a bit of a to-do list first. I’m going to take you home, you are going to worship my cock with your throat, and then, if you’re good, I’ll let you cum before I break you completely. How does that sound?”
Lincoln’s head lolled up and down as she led him to her car.
CW: 4+ people, CNC, hypnosis, reference to tdick, sub doesn’t know what’s happening
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t, sweetie! Why would you?”
Tanner was rubbing his temples and it felt so, so nice. But something felt wrong and he was trying to figure out what.
They were all—how many people were in the room?— sitting a bit close, but Chandra was a touchy-feely guy, he regularly hugged strangers, so he was pretty sure proximity wasn’t the issue. Something about Tanner’s touch felt odd, but she touched his head and hair all the time when she visited. And Rachel had a hand on his thigh, but she wasn’t even looking at him. Rachel was talking to- Oh, yes, Oscar was here, too.
Chandra tried to turn his head but Tanner splayed out her fingers to gently but firmly keep him facing forward.
The was a small tv in front of him alternating between different colors and patterns. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching it.
“I don’t remember coming here?” Chandra said, the questioning inflection coming out accidentally.
“That’s okay, you don’t need to remember right now.”
Chandra wasn’t sure who answer but he felt himself smile.
The colors on the screen were so pretty.
Chandra felt his vision zero in on the screen, the visuals becoming an encompassing sensation that made his breath slow. The next thing he was aware of was a trickle of drool running down his chin.
He automatically thought to wipe away the drool and came back to awareness with the realization that his arm wasn’t moving. His eyes flicked down, but his head stayed put.
“Here, let me,” someone said.
He saw someone lean close, their face in his periphery as his eyes locked back onto the screen. He felt a tongue start at his chin and lick up to his mouth, leaving the skin wetter than it had been.
A grunt came from Chandra’s throat.
The hands on either side of his head weren’t rubbing his temple, they just held him in place. They felt different, too, but he was having trouble figuring out what the difference was.
He realized his left wrist was being held too, pinned down as something else—skin? Something wet?—was rubbed up and down his forearm.
“I…”
Multiple voices around Chandra shushed him.
“I…”
“Don’t worry, sweet boy. We have you. Just a little longer and there won’t be a single thought between those ears. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
He realized someone was gently rubbing his tdick and he whined.
“I… I…”
He was shushed again.
“Yeah, gonna make you feel so, so good. And you’re going to be such a good toy to play with once we get that brain turned off. Now, you just need to watch.”
He felt himself slipping into the colors again. Chandra couldn’t look away.
CW: CNC, testing/experimenting, mention of (brain) implant, dumbification, confused sub
“I feel funny,” Jay said slowly.
He moved instinctively, trying to raise his hands to scratch at the odd sensation along his scalp, but his wrist was halted by a cuff. He’d been strapped into the chair first; he knew the restraints were there to keep him from messing up the test, but he didn’t actually remember being strapped in.
“That means the implant is working,” Vic responded, their eyes glued to the monitor in front of them.
Jay tugged on the cuff again, this time out of curiosity, watching how the leather moved and held firm.
“I'm itchy,” Jay said, turning his head to angle the weird-feeling spot towards them. “Could you scratch my head, like, right in the middle near— if you started scratching, I could tell you which direction to go?”
Vic shook their head, still not looking his way. “There’s no itch, that’s the implant.”
“Why does the implant itch?”
Vic let out an exasperated sigh. “It doesn’t.”
They moved around to Jay’s other side and pressed a spot tucked behind his ear; he winced from the contact, a bolt of pain shooting down his neck.
“This,” they said, pressing the spot once more before dropping their hand, “is where the implant is. If it itches anywhere else, that means it’s working.”
“Oh, yes,” Jay said, nodding his head. “Right there, I see. So, it must be working, then.”
Jay sat with that thought for a moment as Vic went back to looking at screens and papers around him. He pulled at both his wrist cuffs.
“And, um… what is it doing?” he asked, forcing a light chuckle.
Vic turned to him with a renewed interest.
“What do you believe the implant is doing, Jay?” they asked, pen poised to write.
“I— oh, you know, I don’t think I remember all the technical parts of the experiment. All that… science jar- jar- juhh…. stuff,” he said, smiling.
His smile faded a bit as they wrote.
“You’re just monitoring, um… levels and stuff, right?” Jay asked. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember what they’d talked about before he sat down.
Vic wrote more.
“Jay, how many types of birds can you name?” they asked, pen poised again.
“Bluebird,” he said with a shrug. “Canary. Hummingbird. Penguin. Osssstridge. Uhh, canary. Puh- puh- partdriduge.”
Jay felt the fuzziness clouding over his thoughts. His tongue felt heavy and awkward.
“Bir- biiirrrrdd,” he said slowly, his eyes unfocusing.
“And what is your name?” Vic asked.
“Guh, guh, geeee,” he forced out. His brow furrowed further. “Jor. Jor.”
Based on the Hypnovember prompt list put together by @jammed-out
CW: trance, CNC
Elise watched a shape appear and stretch into a large circle. And another, smaller. And another. And another.
“It’s a pretty nice interface,” Ari said from a distance.
Elise knew Ari was at her desk, only a few feet from the bed she sat on, but she couldn’t see her friend. She had a VR headset over her eyes. Currently, she watched the circles being arranged in alternating colors, a light and dark pink, one inside the other.
“When you asked me to watch you draw, this isn’t exactly what I expected,” Elise giggled.
“I’m trying something out for my thesis, I want something a bit more… interactive.”
The pink filled the canvas, but it felt like Ari was clicking much more than was necessary for a bunch of circles.
“Is there any feedback you’re expecting right now?”
She heard Ari laugh. “Is that your way of telling me that you’re bored?”
“No!” Elise said, exaggerating a pouty voice.
“But yes, I mostly want feedback on this next part,” Ari answered.
“Alright, hit me.”
Elise heard a key press and a chime played by her ear before the circles burst into motion, shrinking in on themselves to disappear at the center of her vision, swallowing the one before it. She opened her mouth to speak, but she found herself relaxing into the pink. She felt a trickle of saliva run down her chin.
Elise didn’t have the spare though to pay attention to anything else, so she was surprised to suddenly hear her friend much closer. She felt the bed shift as Ari climbed on. Hands pushed up Elise’s shirt and toyed with her nipples. Ari leaned in to lick the spit from Elise’s chin as a stuttering moan left her.
Elise felt the contact like electricity, radiating through her and settling in her core.
“Good girl,” Ari whispered, pinch Elise’s nipples roughly.
The tranced girl grunted and arched forward, but made no move to push Ari away. Her arms stayed limp in her lap.
“Empty and blank for me, sweet girl. And I’m going to make you feel so so so good that you forget everyone else. All mine.”
Denver realized they were staring and blinked a few times. The screen had the words “GAME OVER” written in large, bold letters. Below them, there were two buttons: one said “continue” and the other said “give in”.
Denver hesitated then selected to continue.
A crescendo played at the graphics came to life, their avatar moving in response to their controller as the start sequence ended. It was a simple platformer with bright colors, one that mostly relied on the player's ability to jump, duck, and run at the right times. They didn’t remember the game being this difficult, but Lawrence had mentioned changing some of the settings.
“You need to duck,” Lawrence warned.
A projectile hit Denver’s avatar and pushed them back off a ledge, causing them to have to backtrack. They glanced at their health bar, already a quarter drained. They knew there wouldn’t be any health kits until much later in the level. This run might already be a wash.
“I’d thought you’d get to the end by now.”
Denver scowled and threw a chip at their friend.
They knew Lawrence would be able to beat the stage on the first try, which only made each failure more frustrating. They were determined to get farther this time.
“Jump. Jump!” Lawrence urged.
They felt his hand on their thigh as he leaned forward, gripping as they took 3 more hits of damage. He pushed himself back and groaned as they were forced to backtrack again.
“This game is not forgiving at all,” Denver whined. “I feel like I’m getting worse.”
“You’re close. You’re so, so close,” Lawrence said.
His encouragement lasted about 2 seconds before Denver misjudged a jump and fell into the void, instantly dying.
Before they could complain, the colors on the screen began to expand and contract, morphing into shapeless blobs. Their brow furrowed and they opened their mouth, but suddenly they felt the confusion melt into a blank warmth.
“I’m… Oh, I…” Their voice trailed off, even simple thoughts crumbling under the visual stimulation.
Distantly, they felt Lawrence touch their cock. Denver hadn’t realized they were naked. Were they naked? They couldn’t bring themself to look down.
The swirling screen resolved into the GAME OVER screen, but Denver didn’t move, still deep in trance.
“Let’s stay here a little longer,” Lawrence whispered, more to himself than his friend.
Denver felt warmth on their cock and heard a strange noise. Lawrence must be sucking my dick, Denver realized distantly. But then that thought flew away, too.
Time felt meaningless, as if the present, these sensations and visuals were all Denver was and all they would ever be. It wasn’t a scary thought, it wasn’t a thought at all; Denver just sat limp and felt the pleasure and heard whines come from their throat. Their cock was on fire, but they felt the building pleasure plateau at that high.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” Lawrence groaned, his hand still working their cock as he sat up.
Lawrence kissed Denver’s limp lips and smiled.
He composed himself again, knowing the pay off would be worth the restraint, that eventually Denver would give in and Lawrence would be able to play with them as long as he wanted.
“Damn, you lost again?” Lawrence asked a little loudly.
Denver realized they were staring and blinked a few times. The screen had the words “GAME OVER” written in large, bold letters. Below them, there were two buttons: one said “continue” and the other said “give in”.
Denver’s gaze lingered on the “give in” button. It would be nice to take a break and do something else, but something told them to play at least once more. They has a weird feeling that the “give in” button might do more than take them back to the home screen.
They felt a warmth stir in their stomach.
Denver selected to continue.
Lawrence smiled, noticing that Denver’s hesitation was longer each time.
And I do, keeping my eyes on them as I pull the smoke from the bong. I’m still a lightweigh, so they keep the hits small. I can already feel the giddy excitement that I feel at the start of a high, but right now it might just be placebo.
Smoking always get me so horny.
“Okay, release,” they say. “Good.”
I blow the air out on command, watching to see the baby stream of smoke that leaves my lungs. It’s nothing compared to the clouds of smoke that they exhale.
“Okay, we’re going to shotgun the rest,” they say.
There’s a finality to how they talk that makes a thrill go through me. I know I can stop whenever I want, but the idea of them having full control makes my stomach stir in a way that I can’t get enough of.
I keep my eyes on them, on the lighter in their hands, on the smoke collecting in the bong. I time my breaths, exhaling as they inhale, and lean forward as they move the bong away. At first, we don’t kiss. Not really. Their mouth presses to mine pursed to blow as much of the smoke down my throat as possible, which I greedily inhale. Then their lips relax and now we're kissing, their tongue licking my teeth before I open wider to accommodate them. I can feel my lungs starting to burn as they grab the back of my head to hold me close. When they back off, the tug my hair enough that I can’t help but let a huff of breath escape.
“Release.”
I breathe out, feeling my entire body relax into them as the smoke rolls out between us. For a moment, my thoughts are just their eyes and the need to obey.
“Good boy.”
A dull spark goes through me, already too horny for the simple praise to have much effect but a warmth blossoms in my chest.
They raid the bong to their lips. I watch, time my breath, and lean in for the next hit, holding it as we kiss again. The more my lungs burn, the more my tdick burns.
“Release.”
I feel warm all over, my focus zeroing in on them. Their hands. Their eyes. Their words. Them.
Another hit.
As we kiss, their free hands brushes against my chest and circles around my nipple, making me whine.
When they pull back they’re smiling condescendingly.
“What?” they tease, punctuating their question with a cruel tug on my nipple.
I wiggle my hips for a moment, unable to stay still.
“Please,” I whisper quickly before biting lip to hold the rest of my breath in.
They pull harder and twist, probably a punishment for the air I let out.
“Release,” they growl lowly.
When I exhale, I feel a deeper relaxation settle in. I whine as they let go of my nipple and rub their thumb into the sore bud of nerves.
I know what I was going to beg for, but it suddenly seems less appealing to ask for something specific. My eyes stayed locked on them. The fuzziness seems to be in my arms too.
They smirk and raise the bong again. I lick my lips and blow out as much air as I can as I watch the smoke disappear.
They pull me in by my neck this time, but their hand is quick to trail down to my other nipple to tease it. I inhale and inhale and they’re still blowing smoke down my throat when I swear I can’t take anymore. They kiss me quick and then push my face down into their neck and I start licking and lightly biting without being told.
“Lower.”
I trail down to their collarbone and find a spot to suck into my mouth, biting down more, trying to mark them. They let me keeping going until I bite down harder.”
“Release.”
I relax my jaw and lean into them as I exhale, blowing against the spot I’d just latched onto.
“Good boy.”
I whine softly and put my hands on their thighs, gripping onto them, not too hard. I kiss my way back up their neck a bit until their hand finds my neck to gently push me away.
They look at me, clearly pleased with the effect they’re having. Their composure slips for a moment as they grin wildly, take a deep breath, and shake their hands and head to stim.
“Gods, you make me so hard,” they say, almost breathless.
They take another hit and I inhale their smoke.
This time they pull back and look at me. I fight to stay still, but my hips wiggle again and I cover my face in embarrassment for a moment before forcing my hands back down. I fight to keep eye contact, feeling flustered and red. They set the bong aside and trail both hands up my sides with soft touches, tickling me gently, making me jump.
“Release.”
I exhale. They trail their hands up farther, grabbing both nipples hard, alternating the pressure from painful to almost unbearable. When I whine too much, they back off and draw gentle circles on my chest until I beg them to be rough again.
“I want to try something,” they say, letting go and grabbing the bong.
I watch as they take a hit and set the bong aside again, their attention fully on me again. They pull me in by my nipples more gently this time and I make sure to inhale all the breath they give me. When we start kissing, they get rougher again and I have to fight to hold my breath. They draw back slightly to look directly into my eyes.
“You ready sweet boy? I want you to listen very closely.”
I nod, eager.
“Release.”
I start to exhale.
“Release.”
I feel a moment of confusion before I visualize a long staircase spiraling down. At their command, I’m imagine myself taking a step down and feel the fuzziness way away at more of my thoughts.
“Release.”
Another step down. I let my head drop to their shoulder as I feel that calm emptiness swallow me up more. I just need them.
I let myself breathe for a moment before I pick up my head and sit up straighter.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” they say.
I couldn’t be blushing harder. “I, uh… I was thinking about being your high, empty-headed toy, about you using weed and breathing to hypnotize me.”
“Yeah? Maybe I am. Release.”
I imagine stepping down the staircase, deeper into that void. The feeling in my stomach is overwhelming and I wish I had a toy to ride. Or their hands and mouth on me.
They took another hit and I accepted it eagerly, anticipating the next command. As we kissed, I fought to get my tongue in their mouth and eagerly sucked when they stuck their tongue in mine. They pulled away for only a moment.
“Release.”
I exhaled as they kissed down my neck. Another step down.
“Release,” they said between kisses and bites along my collarbone. “Release. Release, Release.”
I feel so floaty and fuzzy. They kiss down to my chest but avoid my nipple. Some part of me feels like I should beg them for more, but it feels more right to just relax and focus on them, on what they’re already doing.
“You said you find it hot to imagine me planting ideas in your head when you’re in a trance?” they asked.
I nodded and whimpered.
“Good. Do you think you’re in trance right now?”
I held up a hand and tilted it side to side as a ‘kinda’.
