The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

1

Marc De-Silver was of the land of the home of Mesmer-Austria; the land of historical opportunity when it came to hypnosis and its known and proven beneficial opportunities. He was not ‘from’ Austria, yet he was ‘of’ it.

He had learned early in his life that every one of them missed was one that never returned in quite the same way, nor brought with it quite the same benefits. In his early formative years he had no idea of the ultimate and natural direction his after-forty years would take him.

But now, whenever he looked back on those years, he could only curse softly and ironically for the multitude of those opportunities missed for the good of all. Nothing, however, would have prepared Marc De Silver for the fantastic opportunities that he had long since recognized had always been there for the asking, if only he had known that which he knew now.

He had felt for a long time since that first night that he had been chosen for the work he did. He felt that he had been handpicked by fate to bring it back, to restore the natural balance, the natural exchange of power within the big picture of Nature’s life and happiness, just as nature had originally intended it to be. And in that way he would help make all well again within the world of mankind and womankind.

And slowly, one by one, he was succeeding in his chosen task, which was not always easy, but was always enjoyable and always rewarding for all involved in each chosen mission.

Beside himself, only God and Fate were the others that knew of his many and never-ending missions. It was with both, Marc De-Silver had made his pact and had absolute peace of mind with the carrying out of such wondrous events that chose him and his uniquely learned talents, rather than the other way round.

As for why he had decided to spend the remainder of his living days involved in such a mammoth undertaking, only those two, God and Fate, originated an answer that Marc De Silver could only ever wonder about. And he wondered—often.

2

Marc De Silver had never married, although several times prior to finding his calling, as he now referred to his work, he had come close several times. At that time, at thirty-nine years of age, after being invited out by the woman of the day he had turned a corner of his life that would lead his future in such a direction as he could never have guessed in a million years.

His lady, who had already prepared herself for an anticipated a marriage proposal she was sure would be soon forthcoming had invited him to accompany her on an evening out at the golf country club of which they were both members. He had been reluctant to attend at the time of being asked, but had changed his mind solely to please her.

That had turned out to be the night that had changed his life forever, along with the view he had previously always held of men and women in general. It was the night he would remember and reflect happily upon for the rest of his natural life.

The woman in question had been thirty-four years of age at the time and had been quite beautiful. Her medium weight was well proportioned, quite voluptuously, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, but her character, attitude and lovemaking,

Marc De Silver had found through personal experience, was cold, unenthusiastic, inhibited, and somewhat mechanical. It had always seemed to him during their intimacies as if she was observing herself, and he, during the act, from the position of the watcher of a performance-both his and her own.

Given that attitude, Marc had always found himself surprised by the general attitude of gender arrogance she would display in private or in public by giving off the image generally to any she might interact with.; that something special being that, as a woman, she had something special to hold and laud over all men and women in general.

She gave off the image of a headstrong, proud and sensual Diva, yet he knew from personal experience that she delivered nothing of her natural femininity that he, too, had yet to personally experience. In fact, he had decided she was to be told on that very night that they would not be marrying and would be going their separate ways for the good of all.

Her name was Tawny Brallon. Her father had owned the large metropolitan newspaper within which she worked as a senior front line investigative journalist. She was confident and full of herself, so it had been no real surprise to him when the elderly, white-haired hypnotist who had turned out to be the evening’s entertainment at the country club had called for volunteers and she had put up her hand.

Marc had thought at the time that she had done so, simply to show everyone, including him and the male hypnotist, that she could not and would not be controlled by any man under any circumstances, even if it were only for light entertainment.

Marc knew Tawny well enough to know it was in her nature to come out on top of any situation, no matter what it might be. She had been the only volunteer from the small crowd of about fifty or sixty people of mixed gender that made up the crowd in the audience.

As she had watched her walk seductively up to and on to the small polished mahogany stage with one solitary chair placed upon it, he took in her figure from behind.

Tawny had dressed for the night in a very low-cut, sexy dark blue evening dress. Marc had felt sorry for the old grey-haired man. She had volunteered only as an opportunity for a mission of her own. He knew what she intended to do. She would make a fool of the old man and a feminine heroine of sorts out of herself.

Marc had not even watched as the old man had done his somewhat rapid and quiet hypnotic induction of her.

He had, instead, sat not-listening and looking into his drink, wondering as to how he would phrase the words of his intended parting with her after the show had finished and he had taken her home.

However, he had had cause to look up quickly toward the stage when the old man raised the tone of his voice quite sharply in the saying of Tawny’s name. The audience, as well, had hushed suddenly.

Marc had not previously noticed that the lights had been slowly dimmed so as to be almost dark, with only one lonely spotlight shining directly on to the two the occupants up on the stage.

As he had peered wide-eyed at the spotlighted stage he saw the old man standing beside Tawny as she sat slumped down in the chair. The old man’s right hand rested lightly on her left shoulder.

Her long brown hair had somehow come away from its rear clasp and had fallen dishevelled around her face and shoulders. Her head rested so far forward so as to be almost touching her chest.

She looked to be fast asleep, but at the time Marc had believed Tawny had been just pretending and playing along, simply biding her time and waiting for her chance to put the old man in his rightful place in spectacular fashion.

Marc had strained his ears to listen in the absolute and sudden silence as the old hypnotist moved around to Tawny’s right side and picked up the microphone.

“Tawny.” The old man said firmly, belying his gentle and somewhat senile appearance. “You are relaxed and feeling quite comfortable, now. Isn’t that true?”

Marc watched intently as Tawny’s head nodded almost imperceptibly above her chest.

“And you can hear every relaxing word I say, now. Isn’t that true, too?” He then asked her.

Again Marc saw Tawny’s slight nod of assent to the question that was posed to her by the old hypnotist.

“And Tawny, that chair is quite comfortable beneath your heavy weight, now. Isn’t that also true?” The old man asked.

Marc saw the slight nod of her head again above her chest.

“And it’s nice to feel so relaxed for a change; to take time out from all of your heavy responsibilities, and to take a well-deserved break for just a little while, now. That must surely be also true. Yes?”

Tawny’s head nodded again in Marc’s narrowed and focused field of vision.

“And Tawny, I’m sure that when I command you to raise your head, so that its heavy, relaxed weight did not put such a strain against your tense spine, you would be quite happy to obey my command immediately and feel good about doing that.”

“That way, you can ease that slightly painful strain upon your spine and feel much more comfortable for obeying my command as you did so. And when you did you would twice as relaxed and calm as you do right now when you do as I command immediately. Isn’t that also true, now?”

The old hypnotist said the last, firmly, but slowly in one long breath.

Marc saw Tawny’s head nod once more in assent.

“And Tawny, if I were not to give you such a relaxing command, you would be sure to feel quite a strong pain developing quite quickly. And you are probably already feeling such a strong discomfort beginning already because I haven’t given you the command you are waiting desperately to hear now. Isn’t that also true, now?” The old man asked her.

Marc saw Tawny’s head nod quickly.

“And it must already seem to you now, Tawny, that you must receive that command from me as soon as possible so you can feel free as a woman from that pain, which really is becoming quite uncomfortable right now. Would that be true now also?” The old hypnotist asked firmly, but confidently.

Marc saw Tawny’s head nod quickly again, almost as soon as the old man had finished speaking his last word.

“And Tawny, if I did give you that command you are waiting to hear so badly to be free as a woman of that pain, I’m sure you would feel quite grateful to me if I did give you such a command. Then you would be free you as a woman from all of your self-imposed pains and past inhibitions of all kinds as a woman. Isn’t that true now, too?” The old man asked her.

Marc watched spellbound and completely captivated as Tawny’s head nodded the instant the old man ceased speaking.

“And it really would feel so wonderful for you to feel absolutely free of all pain and past inhibitions of any nature as a woman for the first time when I do give you the command you so badly want to hear me say as soon as possible now. Wouldn’t that be true as well?” The old man asked patiently.

Marc watched intently as Tawny’s head nodded quickly again.

“So Tawny, when I do give you the command that you really want and need now, almost like a drug; the one you’ve been so patiently and earnestly wanting to obey immediately and so willingly, you’ll no doubt feel instantly very relaxed and calm.”

“Then you will easily notice how good you feel as a pain-free and truly liberated woman for the first time, without any past inhibitions affecting your behaviour in any way. It will feel as if they never existed, whenever I give you any command that you’ll obey and feel very good about immediately. Isn’t that the real truth of the matter now? My commands being the only things that really matter to you right now, so you can truly be the beautiful, sensual, female you’ve always known you can be and wanted to be so badly?”

She nodded.

“Yes, and that is especially true, too, in your quiet reflective moments of aloneness?” The old man said, sounding to Marc, as if he were winding up to a finish. “Isn’t that true, too?”

Marc’s mouth was open wide in astonishment with the captivating happenings on stage as he saw Tawny’s head seemingly nod throughout the entire time the old man had been speaking his rather long-winded sentence.

“That’s fine.” The old hypnotist said to her. “I’m very pleased with you, indeed. And when I say the word, ‘Now,’ you may raise your head, knowing you will never be the same woman you used to be. You will know you will feel instant relief from all pain, instant relief from the removal of all past inhibitions, and instant happiness and well being as a female for being so obedient and obeying my commands so willingly and so happily.”

“Tawny, when you hear my instruction you may raise your head as a pure and uninhibited female and notice how good you feel, without feeling guilty as a new person, a new female, all female, happily waiting for my next command, and only the next command, from my voice only.”

The old man paused for a few seconds before continuing on.

“And when and only when I say that word, and with your eyes remaining closed, Tawny… and as relaxed and as calm as is your body, you may raise your head. Then take a few moments to go deeply inside of yourself and say good-bye to the person you used to be, then meet and totally merge with the new and happy female you have now willingly and completely become; then notice how good you feel about yourself in every way.”

He paused once more.

“And when and only when you are ready to return to this stage and not a moment before, to look at your world of the here and now through the eyes of the female you really are, you’ll find your eyelids will then, and only then, open gently. Then you will smile and wait happily to obey my next instruction, whatever it might be.”

He paused again. Then:

“NOW, Tawny. NOW!” The old man finished commandingly.

Marc had been aware that he had hardly been breathing at all while the old hypnotist had been finishing up his hypnotic instructions. The auditorium was absolutely silent.

Not a sound could be heard, aside from those coming from the stage as the old man slowly stepped back a little to gaze down at Tawny. Her head then slowly, but surely began to rise upward from her chest. Then it rose to a position of resting normally upon her shoulders, which lifted and fell as Marc watched her take a deep breath.

She seemed to hold it for a second or two before exhaling it slowly and long with a loud sigh that had been audible throughout the otherwise silent room.

Marc could see her eyes were remaining closed. Her face, one moment, looked relaxed and calm, then her brow furrowed, as if she were thinking thoughts of a conflicting nature.

Then several other facial countenances passed across her features while her head gently turned to the right side and inclined just a little before once more returning to face the front again.

When it did, Tawny appeared to look different somehow, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly it was that seemed so. Her long hair now fell evenly around and forward over both shoulders, cascading like a dark brown waterfall from the top of her now erect head.

Her chest rose and fell gently, softly, in a uniquely strange and different way, as if each breath flowed outward over her full red lips as gently and softly as that of a butterfly’s. The old man had just stood there watching her intently, his face seeming to be a mask of patience, authority and fatherly concern.

Marc had sat spellbound and leaning forward in his chair as the old man had moved around to the other side of Tawny to rest his right hand gently upon her left shoulder. Tawny’s reaction to the touch of his hand, if there was one, was not apparent to any watching eye.

Then slowly her eyelids began to flutter softly, until finally they opened completely. She blinked a few times, looked up at the old man and then out into the darkened audience, then back at the old man once again.

Then she smiled. And that smile, Marc observed, was one he had never seen. He hadn’t thought it possible for one to be on the face of the woman he had previously planned to marry. It was beautiful.

It was feminine.

It was sensual and it was sexy. It was obedient. It was absolutely beautiful to see on the face of any woman, let alone the woman he had previously thought not capable of such an expression. It was the smile of a woman who was all female.

The evening’s entertainment then proceeded as the old hypnotist suggested, commanded and instructed his way through having Tawny follow him around the stage on all fours like an animal, sing in an operatic voice, laugh hysterically and then cry like a baby.

Then he had her sing a bawdy sailor’s song in a cockney accent, followed by having her carry out a simulated striptease bump and grind act. When she threw her arms out at the stunned and silent audience as her finale upon seemingly simulating the removal of the last garment of her underwear the audience broke and applauded enthusiastically, and so did Marc.

At no time had the old man made a fool out of her. Then, with a snap of his fingers he brought her back to her full awareness once again.

The audience was still applauding as Tawny slowly and cautiously left the stage and rejoined Marc at his table. Her face was flushed and excited, but that smile was still there-that special smile.

Upon questioning her of her stage performance Tawny told him she had felt as if she were in a mental fog in one part of her mind. While another part of her mind actively and willingly followed the old man’s instructions and felt perfectly natural and happy to do exactly that.

At no time had she felt embarrassed, even while carrying out the simulated striptease bump and grind act or crawling around after the old man on all fours like a puppy dog.

It was at her insistence a little while later that Marc had taken her home. It was also at her existence that he accompanies her to her room where they quickly made the wildest, most exciting and passionate love he had ever had the good fortune to experience with any woman in his entire life.

She was simply not the same woman. It was as simple to Marc as that. But most of all, Tawny ensured him of his pleasures as if it were really important to her, while at the same time she relished and revelled in the return pleasures he brought to her mind and senses with his body, mouth and tongue.

She seemed insatiable, but not for sex. She simply seemed earnestly intense and seriously intent on being right there and right then, just for him and his attentions.

When he finally left her room just as the sun was advancing over the morning horizon Marc De Silver knew he would never return-to her, or any other woman on a full time basis. His life had changed forever and he knew it.

3

“Why do I do it?” The old hypnotist said to Marc over coffee after being asked to meet. “No one ever asked me to explain. So, I’ll answer you.”

After leaving Tawny’s house Marc knew, one way or the other that he would find the old hypnotist quickly and talk with him. He needed to and wanted to, although he knew not why.

After only one phone call to the country club the following day, then a following one to the old man, a time had been arranged to meet and there they were, sipping coffee in a downtown coffee shop.

“I do it, because I can.” The old man continued on, a boyish smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “Because I’m needed and because there’s no challenge like no challenge.”

Marc found himself listening intently to each and every word the man said.

“I live my life like that, as a male, and have for a very long time now.” The hypnotist told him.

“So why do I do it? Why do I take the risks constantly of private and public exposure and ridicule if discovered? Why do I hypnotize women covertly and rearrange their sensuality and sexuality? Or at least try to?”

The old man paused and swallowed a huge mouthful of coffee. Then he lit a cigarette and took a deep inhalation of smoke, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling a thin blue stream to one side of his face.

He smiled as he drew breath to speak again, the boyish smile still alive and dancing at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s easy.” He said to Marc. “It’s got to be one of three reasons. Maybe there’s more, but three will do for starters. The first one is the most obvious and the most acceptable to they who call themselves women, but who live their sometimes-meaningless lives as anything but.”

“The first one is obviously because I’m frustrated sexually, maybe for a special kind of controlling sexual high that only hypnotizing women and exploiting their sensuality and sexuality can fulfil, and, if that’s so, isn’t it sad? That I would actually prefer hypnotizing them, rather than do it to them? What does that say for the attraction of the opposite sex if it were true?”

Marc sat silently listening to each word as if they were coming from the lips of God himself. He did not know why he endowed the old hypnotist with such a mystical ambiance, but seemingly he did. He felt as if he were in the presence of a godly-type personage.

“No.” The old man continued after inhaling another lungful of smoke and exhaling it. “I don’t think it has come to that-yet.”

With that the old man laughed out loud; a controlled laugh, but a natural one, nevertheless. Marc smiled with him.

“Or maybe it could be that I’m not getting enough. Or perhaps that I am an obsessed sensualist or a sex maniac, or a trained and certified pervert; or that I subscribe to the philosophy that those that can do, do, while those that can’t, hypnotize suggestible women as if they do, even though they don’t. Or, it could be that I am still a virgin; etc., etc., etc.”

Again the old man burst into quietly controlled natural laughter in between inhalations and exhalations of his cigarette. Marc ordered another round of coffee for them both while the cigarette was finished and stubbed out in the ashtray.

“No.” The old man went on with a smile as the waiter brought two fresh coffees for them both. “I don’t think I could handle a second time how much effort it took to lose my virginity in the first place. Once is enough, even for a mere male.”

Marc had decided somewhere between meeting the old hypnotist and that particular moment that he like him immensely. There was something very sincere about the man. He did not know what it was, but it was sincere.

“Actually, the list can go on along these lines forever.” The old man said. “And if I lose it somewhere along the way I’m sure there’ll be a woman somewhere in the world that I’ve yet to meet who would willingly keep adding to the list. At least, she’ll think of herself as a woman.”

“She’ll be wearing women’s clothes when she has to, when it’s to her advantage to, even though she’s more comfortable in men’s attire or similar, but she’ll be there for me when I run out of things to add on to these reasons. Then she’ll take over for me, and, with a vengeance, too, you can believe.”

As he listened Marc became more and more fascinated with the way the old man seemingly looked at the world of women; although seemingly holding no malice toward that world or any of the women who lived in it.

“The second reason I might do it is the one that most psychologists would probably tell me, if I was stupid enough or cared enough to pay their exorbitant fees for just listening.”

“What they’d tell me would be that somewhere deep within my own psyche is the learned belief that I don’t like women in general, or that I have an obsession with them. Perhaps even that every time I take advantage of one of them with hypnosis I’m punishing them for some reason unknown to me.”

The old man burst into quiet laughter once more and this time Marc joined him in doing the same for a few seconds.

“I don’t know about that one.” The old man continued on. “I’ve spent a lot of years loving them, several in particular; appreciating them and bringing them sincere, heartfelt pleasure to hate them.”

“Besides, they’ve never done anything wrong by me directly, only themselves, which does do the wrong thing by all males, all over the world and me in the long run. And in that they do stand guilty as charged, by their children and their children’s children.”

Marc felt as if he were in the middle of a story unfolding that had never been told to another human being alive before that moment.

“Actually, the third reason I might do it has always made more sense to me whenever I’ve questioned my own motives. The third reason might be that maybe I do it be because I can! Maybe it’s just that simple. I like things simple, anyway. So, maybe that’s it?”

Somehow, Marc did not think that was the reason at all, but the old man seemed to be enjoying himself so he let it go as an attempt at subtle and gracious humour.

“Do I think of myself as a brilliant hypnotist?” The old man went on. “No. In all honesty, I don’t. I’m a practiced experimentation methodology mechanic and I know it. But a moderately acceptable and successful one it seems, because all of my converts seem to accept their subtle and natural feminine changes in the spirit they were given-heart-felt and body-felt. In other words,”

He smiled at Marc.

“I was there. Judging by the mail I continue to receive from the women I’ve met and converted my success hasn’t gone to my head though. Instead, it makes me feel good, without feeling guilty, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that. Is there?”

Marc could only shake his head in wonderment as the story continued to flow forth from the man’s mouth. His words sounded like wise and enlightening poetry of the purest kind. It seemed as if each word was purely chosen and meant for Marc alone to hear.

4

“I’ve never used drugs on any of my converts.” The old man continued. “I’ve found I never needed them. It’s easier to use their own natural, biological inner urges and intellect to defeat and control them, then change them for the better in every way, even though they would not agree with my intentions at the time if they knew of them.”

The old hypnotist lit another cigarette and paused speaking while he drew deeply on it. After exhaling yet another neat thin stream of blue smoke from his pursed lips he continued, the coy and boyish smile somehow seeming fixed at the corners of his mouth, as if he were telling a secret confession that had been held long and dear to his heart.

“Women won’t tell you this,” The old man began again, “but along certain lines they think very similar to we males. They would just never admit it. That’s all. That sort of confession would betray the woman gender as a whole, but they do, nevertheless.”

“If there was a way you could find out how many visitors frequented sex sites and sexy story sites on the Internet I’m sure you’d find that the majority of their callers were women, and good luck to them, I say.”

Marc laughed before him and then with him.

“The men go to those places too, but why? Why do they need to?” He asked of Marc.

“Because the women of the world have directed them there. That’s why. Women like to believe they like to be naughty, and that’s how they see themselves. But not in a million years would one of them ever think of calling herself a pervert-just naughty. And that way, it’s okay.”

“But I think if you got right down to the real reasons they do what they do, while pretending they don’t as they’re doing it, you would find that you could probably blame society right along with them, for restricting them in their sexual upbringing.”

“They’re all dressed up in a female’s body and don’t know what to do with it. Nowhere to go and take it, and nothing to do with it along the lines as was intended by He or She who made it for them, without their permission on design, I might add.”

“Especially no one to do it with, except, of course, the closest person to him or her when the natural itch occurs. It may be a male or it may be another female. Or it may be a mechanical device of some sort-less hassle for them, that way.”

Marc sat and listened enthralled, as if he was hearing wisdom of the purest kind for the first time in his life.

“When it comes to scratching that natural itch women will do whatever’s easiest because they’re lazy by nature and are non-confrontationalists, most of them, except when anonymity or feminism is involved.”

He laughed.

“Then watch them tack with a full sail, a full head of steam. They do know how to use that body though, now that the twentieth century has finished with them. They have learned and been taught to use their sex as a physical and emotional weapon, and, as a currency.”

“It’s a self defence and survival mechanism, that’s all. But they use it to protect themselves from most of their own or society’s mental culture illusions and definitely, to get what they want, when they want it, and how they want it; revaluing and devaluing the misperceived value of their sex whenever the situation warrants it, simply to ensure they ultimately get exactly what they want.

He laughed then, adding: “And they say we exploit them?”

Marc signalled the waiter for more coffee, but his eyes and ears never left the presence of the old hypnotist and each word and meaning of intent the man delivered with such clear dexterity and meaning for him.

“Their beautiful sensual minds they have learned and have been taught by their own kind are to be used for manipulation only-what a shame-what a waste; such fine, feminine minds, too-not like our crude, bull-at-a-gate ones; our straight-off-the-rack ones that often only just get us by on a day to day basis.”

The old man chuckled and so did Marc.

“But, somewhere along the line they got it terribly wrong.” The old man told him, his face becoming a little more serious of expression.

“I say terribly wrong because they, women, have changed the world of relationships, marriages, homes, children’s futures and education as we have never known them to be.”

Marc suddenly felt a surge of resentment within him, although he had not previously held the views and beliefs the old man was now espousing to him.

“But, things were once quite different, you know. Now, you name it, they’ve changed them all. But worst of all they’ve changed us-we, the males, their partners, although that word does not come easily to their throats when they have to admit it- not most of them, anyway.”

“Women in general believe women in general can and will scratch that natural itch of theirs whenever they want to. And when they do they do so with the closest person or thing that allows them to retain the self image that society says and they believe they should have of themselves-naughty, but nice.”

Marc accepted the coffees from the waiter while the old man lit another cigarette and enjoyed it fully before continuing on.

“But their greatest ally and defence mechanism born of rationalization as we race headlong into the new millennium,” the old man began again, “is their personal home computer, which, to most women who are net-literate, is the greatest thing since sliced bread, or, since the invention of a male-less vibrator or electric butterfly panties that do everything except walk and talk and play cards with them.”

Both men laughed quietly at the slighting joke of the opposite sex.

“Now, for the first time in female history women can visit all the strip joints in the world, all the smut parlours, all the nasty and naughty places that their own self-image would never allow them to visit on the street. And they can do it all in the privacy of their own bedroom or home.”

Marc’s gaze never left the man’s face.

“And the reasons they are all doing it is because they are all trying, knowingly or unknowingly, to right the wrongs they have done-to themselves and the rest of the world; and to try and get back to who they really are and away from what they’ve become.” The old man chuckled again. “So, what does that tell you?

Before Marc could even begin to think of an answer the old man continued right on.

“Well, what it doesn’t tell you is that all women are natural sluts, because they’re not. If you were to label them as such because of the latent and repressed admission of their own sexuality you’d have to call we males the greatest trollops and harlots that God ever put breath into.”

“No. Do you want to know what I think it tells anybody who might be remotely interested in knowing?”

Again, before Marc could answer the old man continued on with his own.

“Well, I think it’s telling us that women, when left to their own natural state for a little while with no outside influence, want knowingly or unknowingly to revert back to the natural biological state of being who they really are by gender design-in other words, normal females.”

The old man paused to smoke his cigarette for about thirty seconds without saying a word.

5

“That’s right.” He began again. “Normal-natural and normal females. It was how they used to be before society or some dimwit woman told them it was not ladylike to be a normal female, to act like one, to feel like one, to love a man like one and to live like one.”

“But now they’re not-not at all, because that’s not what they were told. They were told there was nothing in for them if they did. So they didn’t, from that point onwards. The real shame of it all is that the women actually believed it-what they were told, I mean-fell for it, hook, line and sinker-reeled in like a reef fish.”

Marc sipped his coffee, completely entranced within the created mindset of learning and correlating.

“It’s got me beat why.” The old man continued on. “I believe women are more intelligent than men, in their own natural and different way, but viva-la-difference, nevertheless. They are more discerning, sharper and more calculating when they have to be.”

“But the shame of it all is that they’ve never been really happy, content or settled ever since that first lie was first told to them. Personally I would have thought they would have been too smart and too discerning and too intelligent to believe it, but they did-hook, line, and sinker, and then over the decades, right down to the rod and reel itself.”

Both coffee cups were once again empty. Marc signalled the waiter for two more cups.

“So, getting back to why I do it? Why I do I hypnotize women and change them back to the natural-state females they once were in the beginning, but never quite arrived before the learned woman in them took over?”

“Well, I think it’s because I love them all-women, that is-as a species. Or, I feel genuinely sorry for them-one or the other.”

“Yes. I believe I do, even though they force us to question our own sexuality whenever we want to make love with them more than twice a week-calling us oversexed, sex maniacs-you’ve heard all the usual terms and familiar phrases. They sound something like this: ‘why can’t we just cuddle or kiss? Why does it always have to lead somewhere? Why do you always have to grope?’”

The old man laughed aloud while Marc sipped his coffee and nodded in assent. “That’s an easy question to answer.”

The old hypnotist told him with a wink.

“Because it was meant to lead somewhere; because it’s nice to lead somewhere; because it’s natural to lead somewhere and because it should lead exactly to where Mother nature, who knows more than all of them put together, want them to be led to-into a male’s waiting arms.”

Marc noticed his head nodding in agreement without consciously being aware he had done it.

“Still,” The old man went on, lighting another cigarette as he drew a breath. “What might have been is not what should have been. And what could have been is what’s not, which leaves us all, especially me, with the here and now, which is where I took over this ongoing mission.”

“The problem is that women are now so used to denying their own sexuality to themselves, and to we males-not only that, but they believe it.”

The old man stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.

“In fact,” He said. “They believe just about anything they’re told, especially if it’s told to them by one of their own, as in women’s liberation; you know-women’s libbers?”

“Those now old and single, lonely and frustrated women who saved the masses of women from the dominant males of the world, as well as themselves?”

He paused for a seemingly long time before speaking once more.

“Who took them out of their secure and loving homes, away from their children and husbands and into the work force, destroying completely that natural work force balance economy as well as their own natural gender and uniquely female culture along the way?

Marc had not noticed the change in the old man’s countenance, but it had changed. It was now serious. The smiles at the corners of his mouth had vanished.

“And proud of it! They’ll tell you, with their jaw set and looking for a fight, those women’s libbers that led their own kind away from their homes, children and husbands? The ones who would have a royal fit if they knew of my existence and what my mission is as I see it and as others before me and with me have seen it.”

“They’d be crying sexism, genderism, sexual discrimination, gender discrimination, maledomism, elitism, and all the other isms you could probably tie in there without too much imagination.”

The old man smiled sadly at Marc as he sat enthralled in his learning.

“It’s a shame-a crying shame,” the old man said, “because the majority of women are living, have lived and are still living their lives and seeing theirs and other’s lives through the eyes of what they now truly believe are-women, a type of person that has been specifically created for women, by women.”

“They certainly did not create them for we males. There’s just no natural pleasure to be found in them, women, whatsoever, and that’s a fact. When a woman has to try to be sensual, simply because she does not know how to be, other than what she reads in books or manuals there’s something terribly wrong.”

Marc watched silently as the old man sipped his coffee.

“Nevertheless, that’s what true males, those that exist from all nationalities and cultures of the world believe; that natural females have become converted, created and manufactured women, instead of being who they really are-females.”

“The shame of it all is that they have never realized, even through their aging loneliness and aloneness, even within a relationship that they, first and last, always were and always will be, females, for as long as their backsides point to the ground.”

“And, they were always meant to be females by Mother Nature’s design of their biological gender itself.”

Marc sat enthralled, captivated and content as he listened to the old man tell of his life’s secrets.

“In point of fact,” The old man went on with a sigh. “Most women haven’t lived as females, thought as females, acted like females, bred like females, raised kids like females, loved like females, cared for their husbands like females, kept a home-not a house, like females for the better part of the whole of the twentieth century.”

“Ever since that first knuckle head feminist decided to get the bright idea to throw a tantrum when she couldn’t get her own way with her husband and chained herself to an iron fence, simply because she did not want to ask and be reasonable.”

The old man suddenly broke the tension of the past few minutes of serious talking by laughing out loud.

“Should’ve hung the chain around her flaming throat, if you ask me, for all the damage and heartache her little stunt has caused her gender as well as ours ever since she did it.” The old man laughed and smoked and coughed at the same time.

“If they, the women, knew my views or heard me speak like this before they unknowingly and unsuspectingly came into my hypnotic hands I would dread opening my mail or answering my phone each day.”

“All the women would turn my words around to turn obvious defeat into victory. They would make me the bad guy, or the one who needs the special hotel with the padded walls.”

“Or maybe they’d simply assume what I really need is just one hell of a good fuck from one hell of a determined woman with mechanical expertise from a how-to manual, just to sort me out once and for all? I don’t know. But, in my defence, all I can say is, that I love them all, more than they love themselves, I think.”

The old man paused, lit another cigarette, and then smiled.

“Still, that is one of their greatest talents.” He said with a wink. “Turning defeat into victory. Ever notice that? They do the wrong thing by a male and then turn it around to make him feel guilty for it. It’s an amazing talent, that. Don’t you think?”

Marc nodded and sipped his coffee.

“I suspect if they knew what I had in mind for them when they agreed to allow me to hypnotize them, maybe women as a whole would be so incensed by my words that they wouldn’t dignify the non-allowance of the experience with any comments at all.”

“And perish the thought that maybe one female in the world somewhere might even contact me and tell me that she agrees with me. Don’t smile-it’s happened, and many times.”

Marc smiled, anyway.

“Doesn’t worry me.” The old man smiled sadly. “It’s their loss. It always has been, while we males have been turned slowly but surely into men and made to feel guilty about that loss of theirs at every step along the way. And of the friend they could have had in us throughout the twentieth century, sadly, that loss is really theirs.”

The old man was silent for a few minutes and lit another cigarette. Then, with a sigh, he continued.

“Yes-their loss.” He began a little more softly. “And their lack of awareness as to what they’ve learned to become. Well, you know the rest. They don’t, but you do. That’s right. It’s been our loss as well.”

“But if they did ever know of my thoughts, intents and views beforehand and would ever put pinkie-the free one, to keyboard, and at least one so-called woman would.”

“Why? Because there’s bound to be at least one pseudo-female out there somewhere in the world who would simply not be able to sleep at night, eat right, or think right until she did, until she paid me out for the type of person she mistakenly believed me to be; for the type of person that society has taught and convinced her to believe I am.”

“Yes. I think she would write or contact me in some way. And so, maybe, would several of her sisters.”

The old man then chuckled gaily while Marc just sat there spellbound.

“When and if she or they ever did that, that’s okay.” The old hypnotist went on. “Because I want her and them to get on with life and be happy. And we both know right now, whoever she or they may be that she would not be happy until she did exactly that-contact me and pay me out.”

“This woman or these women, when and if she or they did contact me, would be your typical feminist, a liberated woman-not a female-a woman, of the highest order.”

Marc sat dumbfounded as to why he had never thought of any of these perspectives before himself at any time in his life.

“Liberated from what?” The old man asked no one in particular. “I might ask her that if I should decide to answer her abuse, which I probably would not. Liberated from thinking as Mother Nature intended her to?”

“Liberated from the biological design that God, in a moment of sheer stupidity had in giving her a gender-genetic nature and a body that was different to men? Pardon you, God, you dick-head. A hangover, was it? Why didn’t you make them exactly like males are?”

He laughed from his belly.

“Then we males wouldn’t have all these problems with them. They simply wouldn’t be females or women at all. They’d be men, which is exactly what their so-called leaders wanted them all to be and to think they are anyway. Then they won’t need us. Wow! What liberation!”

The old man laughed aloud again and continued right on.

“That’ll make them smile as they then reinforce their beliefs because they were told that they never really needed us in the first place-not really; only for as long as it took them to become liberated and learn the rules of the New World Women’s Order, as they would have it, and as most do now anyway.”

Marc was entranced and knew it, but did not want to lose the state of mind and possibly miss the intended meaning of any single word.

6

“Their New World Order tells and then teaches them that they are as good as males. That they are our equals and that they can think as intelligently as we can. That they can work as hard, if not harder than we can. That they can protect and provide as well, if not better than we can, and that they can do anything as well, if not better than we can.”

The old man sipped his coffee and lit yet another cigarette.

“Now, I’m not saying that they can’t do all of those things equal to or better than we males, but it doesn’t come naturally to them. They have to try. And why would they want to? Christ, it’s hard enough for even us at times.”

Marc and the old man chuckled simultaneously.

“But why would they even want to?” The old man repeated and then answered. “Because they believed what they were told, and, they were told that they want to be like that, live like that and think like that.”

Marc began to feel quite out of it, yet clearly hearing each and very word spoken by the old hypnotist.

“You can teach a dog to sit and bark for food, or to be let out of the house, but that doesn’t make him a human, does it? No. And it does not come natural for women to be males, but they try very hard—’E’ for effort, I say.”

“They have to work at it, though, and they know it. But what they don’t know is that after a while the stress of trying to be something they’re not, and of not being something they are, shows, and it shows very clearly, even to them in the end. Yes. It does after a while, as you would expect.”

The old man and Marc each lifted their coffee cups at the same time to drink. Then the hypnotist continued on.

“Why?” He asked no one in particular. “Well, I believe because it feels wrong to them, unconsciously, to try and take our place in all manner of our natural belonging. But they still go ahead and try anyway, knowing full well all the time, unconsciously, that it’s not what they need-it’s just what they want, and they’ll set their little hearts, God bless ‘em, to get it, no matter what the cost.”

“Well, for them, the liberated non-sensual, non-sexual women, I believe the cost has been fairly high to date.”

Marc signalled the waiter for two fresh coffees while the old man stubbed out his cigarette.

“Sort of makes you wonder why they want to even keep us around at all?” The old man posed.

“Well, I’ll tell you on reason, which might enlighten us on the why-because they can’t breed by themselves. If they could, they probably would in a flash, some of them.”

“And then those would teach the others. Yes, breeding; Mother Nature’s reason for being … for them; one of the few times they are forced to remember unconsciously and ultimately consciously, who they really are… when their biological clock starts ticking… and they hear it.”

The old hypnotist laughed again. Marc soon joined in as the waiter arrived with the fresh coffees.

“A world of female hermaphrodites. I can just see it now.” He chuckled. “But breed? Conceive and breed-a belly full of arms and legs that they can call their very own? They want to. They need to. They have to.”

“Their biological clock, the one their hung-over God gave them by mistake, forcing them to live a life of shame in a woman’s body instead of a man’s; their biological clock that God should have instead given to the Swiss watchmakers of the world.”

He laughed once more.

“Yet when that God, their God, orders it to, the ticking of that clock gets louder to them each and every day they move past twenty-one years of age. It’s a natural predisposition, like a time bomb, and some feel it that way with their first waking thought every new day.”

Marc observed that he had the thought for a second time in as many minutes as to why no one had ever spoken to him like this before in his life.

“Well,” The old man went on. “I’m all for ventilation when she does contact me or when they contact me. Ventilation is a good outlet for the hollow existence most women are living.”

“In their rare moments of aloneness, and in their private thoughts, even on a good day; and even though everything about the existence they are living as a woman, it still feels wrong to them when they’re alone with themselves.”

“When they are honestly trying to answer questions that society never taught them the answers to-questions that they already know the answers to, but as a female, yet they still try to deny their own existence.”

The old hypnotist smiled and paused. Then he continued.

“Comes natural to them to do that, too, but I have no idea why.” The old man smiled. They’re just not aware that they know those answers. That’s all. Maybe that’s where I come in? Who knows?”

“Well, maybe me, with all of my hypnotic techniques, methodologies and philosophies of covert mind-changing hypnosis for their own eventual happiness and good?”

“Maybe myself and other male sensualist hypnotists alike are their saviours? Jesus! I can just see the look on some of their faces right now… call 911… quick!”

With that statement the old man and Marc burst out laughing together for several minutes before the old man lit another cigarette and continued on.

“That’s right. Maybe we could be their saviours. None would see it that way, of course. But I do and I am because I want to be, along with every other sensual hypnotist in the world, both male and female.”

“Female hypnotists who are now living as who they really are and who are the ones who have risen like phoenixes from the ashes of feminine loneliness and despair after meeting and being converted by us. And when they do rise, they rise with a vengeance, I might add.”

The old man then focused intently upon Marc’s gaze as he spoke. Marc’s memories of Tawny’s wild, passionate, unexpected and unbridled lovemaking the night before flooded back to his senses and sensations. His body stirred strongly.

“Ever read any of the erotic stories written by females?” He asked, and then answered himself. “Excellent, and hot! Someone has to save them, women, from themselves, or at least make a start to. Why not me, and other sensual hypnotists, both male and female? Many have trodden the path before me and with me and still many more are yet to follow.”

For a few seconds Marc had felt quite peculiar and uncomfortable under the old man’s direct and compelling gaze, but then it passed as the hypnotist’s eyes softened appreciably.

“But it’s hard to save someone who doesn’t believe they need saving.” He stated flatly. “Ever tried it? It’s like talking to a one-eyed union person. Still, I’ll persist. And others will too, both male and female.”

“Because if we only save one, she and her husband and children will have a happy and fulfilled existence, living as who they really are, and not what she has made of them all over a short or long period of time living with them as what she is.”

Marc sipped his coffee as the old man lit another cigarette.

“And here’s my driving reason.” The old man said. “Someone has to be the very best at who they are in their life as a female, why not them? They’re all trained now so well at being good at what they are, but who’s being the very best at who they are? No one. That’s who.”

“So, her husband or boyfriend doesn’t get to see the very best of them; their kids and friends don’t get to see the very best of them, and they don’t get to see or feel the very best of them.”

“What a shame. How can they? They are not living as who they really are, only what they’ve become, thanks to the feminists who live their lives of quiet pride and go to bed at night, wrapping their arms and legs around their vibrators and smiling because they’ve really put males in their place, finally.”

“It’s been a long, hard battle, but they’ve finally won.”

He laughed.

“They believe they have, at any rate.”

The old man’s eyes softened then, Marc noticed.

“Got news for them all-they’ve lost. We all have especially our children and our children’s children. You remember them? You know, the little people, the ankle-biters that fill the rooms of day-care centres to capacity each and every working day of the week?”

“The ones who get hung on a picket fence on weekdays while their mothers work? Who sometimes must wonder just how many Mommies they do have? Yes. The day-care centres; the homes of the Moms-to-rent the women hire when they don’t want to be a Mom. It’s hard at the top, isn’t it?”

The old man laughed dryly then and stubbed out his cigarette before it had actually finished.

“But, all things being equal,” He went on. “Which they are not, we, too, have lost, as men, but mostly as males. We’ve lost our females-to themselves. Christ! What a victory to the feminists and liberators of their gender. Yes, granted. But a hollow victory, if you ask me. And I did.”

The old man’s gaze drilled through Marc’s comprehension and understanding of Mother Nature’s big picture for both genders.

“That’s why I do what I do.”

Then the old man sipped his coffee until the cup was drained. Marc sat aware of the silence without the sound of his soothing, educational voice.

“I believe we’re supposed to feel good about ourselves,” He began again. “And, without feeling guilty or being made feel guilty about it-both men and women alike. Don’t you?”

Marc nodded in agreement.

“I wonder sometimes how the feminists and liberators sleep at night? But you know what? They probably sleep just fine. Liberators. Good name for an airplane, don’t you think?”

“Sounds like a world-war-two bomber, doesn’t it? Well, they, women, have seen themselves that way for almost a century now. And to those feminists and liberators it has been a war. I wonder if we’ll ever recover from that war before it’s too late?”

Marc sipped his coffee while the old man ceased speaking for a few seconds and just gazed at him.

“No.” He began again. “As an eternal optimist, I have to believe it’s never too late, only too long. And when something takes too long to happen, people usually get hurt or suffer along the way, and, it’s usually themselves, along with everybody they interact with as well.”

The old man seemed to intensify his gaze, and then suddenly softened it again.

“Anyway, back to the task at hand.” He said. “My saving the world of women from themselves. I can just picture the thoughts of some women if they knew what my mission in life was; ‘What an arrogant, conceited ass!’ they’ll say. And who’s to say they aren’t right? ‘What a load of bull!” They’ll say.’ ‘One good fuck and a green apple from a healthy woman would probably kill him!’ They’ll say.”

The old man and Marc laughed together.

“Well, anymore than one might; one fuck or one green apple, that is. Doesn’t really matter which, since I’m used to a lot in frequency of either diet, thanks to the females I find within the women.”

The old man then visibly relaxed as if he were coming to an end of Marc’s impromptu and unsolicited education. He smiled and drew a shallow breath.

“Nevertheless,” He said with the smile still in his eyes. “I live with my lot. I don’t accept it, knowing it could be better and should be better and might be better in the future, but only if I have a few wins and manage to remind a few women every now and then of who they really are and what’s in it for them if I do.”

The old hypnotist took on a tired expression.

“Yes, I live with it. I don’t like it, because it makes me sad sometimes, but I live with it. I’m not their equal. Don’t want to be. Couldn’t be if I tried. And they, women, are not our equal… but they sure try, don’t they? Got to give them top marks for that. But I do claim to speak and to act for males and females alike in what I do-that’s males and females.”

Marc watched as the old man paused then and lit another cigarette before continuing.

“But if women did see why I do what I do, then maybe they’ll also see why we males are the way we are? That we can’t justify our maleness to ourselves, let alone to them-justify why we are, why we act like we do, and why we think and reason like a male?”

“We just are, and we are very natural at being who we are, unlike them in their learned belief patterns of decades past. But to us it’s easy. It feels right. We behave like males in every sense of the word and it feels right and natural.”

“That’s why we do it. We don’t deliberate on it, ponder over it, and analyse it or what we do all that much. We just do it because it feels right, with no injustice intended towards them in simply being a male.”

7

The old hypnotist appeared suddenly to Marc as if he were very, very tired.

“Women are very unnatural at being who they are, because it’s been so long since they have been. Maybe if they did see, then what might have been, will be, and what could have been, will be also? Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Maybe they’d see that we males need to act and think and behave like males to feel so naturally good about ourselves, without feeling guilty? And maybe they’d see that we need to feel that our women want us to protect them, and that we don’t want or need her to protect us, simply because that arrangement, to us, doesn’t feel right?”

“And maybe then they’d see that the more we feel like they want and need us to protect and provide and serve for them, the more we will want to protect them, provide for them, and serve their needs? Along with our own? Maybe.”

Then the old man’s face broke into a wide and natural grin.

“There’s no challenge like no challenge.” He said with a smile. And with that statement the old hypnotist grinned even more widely.

“Maybe they’ll see that if we feel like a God to them, then we will feel like treating them like the Queens they are to us, when they’re not trying to usurp our roles away? And then maybe, just maybe, they’ll see that the more they treat us like males, the more we’ll want to treat them like females?”

“And the more they’ll feel like females? And the more they’ll think of themselves as being females? Until they only want to be females, and feel good about that without feeling guilty?”

The grin still stayed fixed to the old man’s face as he drew heavily on his cigarette.

“Good plan?”

Marc nodded.

“Maybe.” The old man replied. “Anything’s possible. All I know is I have always found it very difficult to treat a woman as a man or a male, even if she tells me that that’s what she wants.”

“The problem is though, that when it suits them they do want to be treated like females. But only when it suits them-part of the old learned belief patterns coming in again to ensure they get what they want, at any cost, and anyhow.”

“Still, it’s a good plan. Got to have a plan to restore nature’s natural balance. And anything’s possible. Isn’t it?”

Again Marc nodded.

“Maybe because a part of their natural female mind does see just a little of my intent for them in the spaces between the words I speak to them when I hypnotize them. That’s why they are naturally happy and feel good about themselves, without feeling guilty in their moments of aloneness by the time I’ve finished with them?”

“Maybe that’s why they tell me after the fact that they feel complete about being a female, and, feel happy in the role by the time I’ve finished with them, and not resentful and not ashamed.”

Marc smiled for some reason unknown to him. Maybe he sensed it somewhere deeply within his male psyche.

“Maybe.” The old man said. “And maybe that’s why I hypnotize them, one after the other as the opportunity arises and as the chosen ones come into my safekeeping?”

“Maybe I’m just trying in my own way, right or wrong, to help women, as we males see them, to go back to being females, where they naturally belong. Because that’s the only way we can see them naturally, and love them naturally as males; and provide and protect them naturally? Maybe we’ll feel better about being males if they went back to being females?”

Marc could only shrug his shoulders, knowing for a while he was way out of his depth and was never intended to be an active contributor in the conversation.

“Maybe.” The old man said. “I know I would. Would you?”

Marc nodded.

“Really? There’s no challenge, like no challenge.” Then the old hypnotist grinned as he spoke his next words.

“That’s fine. You’re doing perfectly. Now… one. Drifting all the way back. Two. Drifting further and further forward after the twentieth century, after liberation, after feminism, but before the end of females, as we would like to know them to be. THREE!”

8

The old man suddenly snapped his fingers before Marc’s face and eyes. The noise sounded like a gun going off. Then the old man’s gaze locked into his in open and pure honesty.

“You’re there! Right now!” The old hypnotist told him. “Wide awake and feeling fresh and alert! And ready to take over from me in my self-appointed role as the future savoir of all female-kind.”

“Welcome to the first day of the rest of your exciting and sensual life-as a male! Stay with me now. I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know to be successful in your coming tasks.”

“All you have to do is to care about the future happiness of mankind, and that begins with caring about female-kind first, so that all will be well with the rest of the equation. I didn’t ask you to search me out, but now that you have, will you stay?”

The younger man’s head nodded his commitment before his lips spoke the actual word.

Marc De Silver stayed and remained with the hypnotist until the old man died happy and of natural causes seven and a half years later.

9

“Many aphrodisiacs have been tried to enhance sexual desire.” Marc De Silver said gently, but firmly to the housewife who had desperately come to him seeking his help.

She lay reclining on the chair in his office.

“Unfortunately, they only work when the person truly believes they will work. That’s because your mind has tremendous power over the way your body responds sexually.”

“You may be shocked to learn that it is entirely possible to create your own aphrodisiac within your own mind-body connection. With a person’s mind-body connection working as their own personal and constant aphrodisiac you could even give someone common sea salt or anything else to create the energy of an amazing love potion.”

“Or, you could use the easy way, the natural way, and the permanent way-hypnosis. But you must first learn how to harness that power of your mind.”

He glanced to his left at the face of the woman resting peacefully in hypnotic trance-deep trance. He sounded authoritative, but friendly. His tone was firm, but caring.

He normally spoke from his subconscious mind without even thinking about the words as they came forth across his lips. Her face remained deeply relaxed and calm. Her body lay limp, loose and relaxed.

“Every time you have sex, your subconscious mind sets the level of pleasure that you will experience.” He instructed her subconscious understanding in its new learning.

“Your mind also programs barriers that limit your pleasure. Your brain determines how long your orgasms will last and how good it will allow you to feel. And if you believe you are unable to change these levels, then you are wrong. You can take charge of this energy and reset your level of sexual ecstasy to an experience beyond what you ever dreamed possible.”

Marc De Silver noticed the smallest of the beginnings of a smile softly touch the corners of her mouth and smiled himself. He was getting through, although there was never any doubt from his point of view.

“Why place limits on your pleasure? You have to forget what you have learned in the past about how good sex can be, because in fact… there… is… no… limit… to how good you can feel. You can decide how good you want to feel and then take charge of your experience.”

Marc De Silver noticed her smile improve in width and depth.

“The best way to alter the manner in which your mind responds to pleasure is to use hypnosis. Hypnosis will give you the power to reprogram and heighten your pleasure response patterns.”

“When you are hypnotized, as you are right now, and very deeply, the analytical part of your thought process is not as active to decide for you on how much pleasure you may feel.”

“During this time now, as we speak, I am bypassing your conscious thinking mind, accessing your subconscious feeling mind, and resetting it to a higher level. This is just the first step to begin reprogramming your mind, the experience of hypnotic trance”

“Fortunately, you have already now experienced this. You are now deeply hypnotized, just as you wished to be.”

Her smile widened a little more and deepened even further.

“As you can feel right now.” He continued. “And experience right now, trance is the feeling of being very relaxed and not very clear or sharp. During this time your conscious mind is not as alert and is successfully being bypassed.”

Her smile widened a little more still and deepened a little more.

“Trance gives you the opportunity to reprogram your subconscious feeling mind for more feeling, and less of what you don’t want. This is actually happening right now.”

“You feel yourself now going into a deeper trance state with each word you hear me say to you, and with each word you hear me say your subconscious mind is creating your sexual feeling ecstasy in the reprogramming component of your trance.”

The woman shifted her shoulders and then her hips slightly. The smile remained.

“There will be times.” He went on with her transformation from woman to female. “While in the presence of your husband, a male, or any male, that you will feel so overcome by his maleness, you will sink to your knees. When you try to get up you will scarcely be able to stand.”

“The maleness so near to your femaleness will so overcome you that you will simply only be able to remain on your hands and knees. You will feel that weakened.”

“Your husband or any male will smell your weakness for maleness wanting femaleness. You will be so overcome by maleness and your love for that essence that you will only have the strength to lie vulnerably before its purity, awaiting the inevitable happiness destined for only you.”

Marc De Silver watched the woman’s countenance in trance very carefully as his subconscious mind continued with her transformation.

“You will understand an learn and accept easily into your belief system from this moment onward, and very clearly so, that your husband has chosen in you the perfect female, the perfect loving slave for him, or any male.”

“You will be and can be proud to want to be the total slave, the total female for any male. You will know this to be a true fact in your deepest female heart of hearts.”

“From this moment onward.” He went on. “And when you are fully aware again, the creating of your own sexual ecstasy will be a continuous and an ongoing, living experience for you from moment to moment.”

“And it will simply become stronger and more enjoyable each time you make love, with yourself, or any male, but only as a female. You can easily choose right now to simply… not remember all about the woman you used to be.”

“In a moment I will count from 1 up to 5 and with each number I say you will no longer be the woman you used to be. You will be as you want, instead, more and more of the sensual… sexual… female… you were always meant to be, and will be, in the presence of any male, from the moment I say the number 5.”

The woman shifted her hips and shoulders in the chair once more.

“One. Calmly, easily, and gently feel your female awareness returning to every muscle, every nerve and fibre in your entire body.”

“Two. Beginning to move and feel your female body.”

“Three. Feeling a new and different surge of female energy.”

“Four. Beginning to open your deep and sensual female eyes and no longer be the woman you used to be.”

“On the next number now, open your eyes as who you really are-raw, pure, and unadulterated…female!”

“Five. Wide wake!”

Marc De Silver simply smiled at the woman as her eyes gently opened and gazed at him. Then she smiled. He saw immediately that her eyes had a deep and sultry look about them that had definitely not been recognizable before her trance.

“You have now completed your first introductory hypnosis sexual ecstasy session as you’ve requested of me.” He told her with a little seriousness.

“Don’t worry if you still feel groggy or relaxed. That is normal. Just as with any new skill that you learn, learning to be who you really are, a female will become better with natural and willing practice.”

“As you develop your hypnotic trance skills with me you will find yourself relaxing easier and deeper and feeling more refreshed afterwards, going deeper each time and enjoying it much more.”

“At the same time, the suggestions that I have now programmed, the suggestions of deeper levels of sexual pleasure, in the presence of your husband or any male, will influence your subconscious mind in a stronger sensual and sexually responsive way.”

“This is the way you will naturally feel from this moment onward each time you listen to me, each time you make love with yourself or your partner, or find yourself in the presence of any male.”

The woman just sat there, still half hypnotized in the valuable few seconds after trance. Marc De Silver took full advantage of that special situation. Her eyes were wide open. Her mind, he knew, was still exactly the same way.

“You will find. He said to her. “That you and both of you will begin enjoying sex so much more that you won’t believe it. Your spouse and yourself will want it more; crave it more and think about sex all the time because it becomes such a positive, mind-blowing, transforming experience that it will affect your whole relationship in a positive way.”

The woman smiled widely, and then blushed.

“Don’t try to analyse the experience too much.” Marc De Silver cautioned her. “There are many misconceptions about hypnosis that have been fostered by the media. It may be of use to you to find a book in the library and do some research on self-hypnosis to reinforce your new transformation.”

“Remember, even though this is sexual ecstasy hypnosis you are creating, the effect of it will be instantaneous in the presence of any male. You will become intensely and intimately aroused as a female at the mere thought, feeling or emotion of sensuality as it enters your awareness, or when you even think about having sex or receiving sexual pleasure in some way.”

“Mmmmm.” was the only sound woman said, her gaze remaining downcast toward the floor.

“Becoming aroused,” he told her further, “is the exact opposite of the relaxed hypnotic state that you want to create. Instead, save all of your sexual arousal for when you are having sex.”

“Be aware that your conscious mind will try to get you to stop doing this life-enhancing program. It may tell you that it is not possible to change. Or, it may even try to make you ignore the progress you have made. Many people, after using sexual ecstasy hypnosis know their sex life is amazingly better. Your conscious mind tries to maintain the status quo.”

“That is one big reason why changes in life are so very difficult. But, if you have the courage to recognize these self-defeating patterns and open your mind to new possibilities, then there is an amazing world of pleasure out there, waiting to be explored… and enjoyed.”

“Mmmmm.” was all she was brave enough to allow herself to say.

Katarina knew that Dan; her husband of seven years was about to break up with her because she had somehow lost interest in sex. He had a very high sex drive, but Katarina had become bored for some reason and eventually didn’t want sex all.

She would dutifully have sex with him occasionally as a favour; a grudge fuck, Dan had always called it. It was usually unexciting throughout the whole experience.

Now, however, Katarina was desperate to save her marriage and had decided to try hypnosis after she saw Marc De Silver performing seeming miracles at a private party. She came to the session hoping that after it was finished she would begin to let go of many of the deeply rooted inhibitions she knew she must have.

“Even though, as you’ve told me, Katarina,” Marc De Silver continued. “That you are normally quiet during sex, Dan will be surprised and so will you when you begin to scream out with pleasure at the top of your lungs.”

“Dan will most probably think you are possessed, but he will not complain. Instead, he will probably ask to try the hypnosis program himself. Your relationship will be now stronger than ever and you will both feel very bonded to each other. Dan won’t talk about his sex life anymore to his friends. He will just smile... and so will you.”

Katarina’s smile widened at the hypnotist’s words. Her friend, Cheryl, had told her she had once thought that there was nothing wrong with her sex life before she came and saw Marc De Silver. She enjoyed sex and liked to have it often. She thought it felt so good that it couldn’t get any better.

Even so, Cheryl was open to new experiences, not desperate, like Katarina. However, in the first couple of days after seeing Marc, she told Katarina that she did notice a difference in her sex life. She noticed that the pain in her jaw, which she experienced for years, had disappeared.

She now did not need to take the aspirins that she had previously been eating like candy. Generally, her whole body became more relaxed throughout the day and stressful events didn’t seem to bother her as much.

Slowly, she also began to realize that during sex, her body was now responding in an even more fluid and natural way. She was becoming wetter each time and her body would tingle and convulse with a greater intensity. She was so happy about her newly discovered femaleness and her multiple orgasms that she gave out Marc De Silver’s name to all of her friends, including Katarina.

Cheryl had invited her to the private party at which she first saw him. Hypnosis for sexual improvement had been a Christmas present to many of her friends. Katarina had been told that Cheryl had truly discovered now that hypnosis really was a powerful tool for improving her sex life, and, that when she taps into the power of it, she gain a tool that really transforms their sex life into a whole new world of ecstatic pleasure.

Katarina now wanted that more than anything in the world and hoped like hell she would be as happy as her friend with Marc De Silver’s hypnotic efforts. She took stock of herself with a deep breath, knowing with her own immediate warmth that she already did feel a little that way already. She was suddenly and immediately optimistic.

Katarina sensed then she was about to be asked to leave, but was afraid to look directly at the hypnotist for fear he would know just how aroused she already was, in his presence.

“I’ll be in touch.” Marc De Silver smiled at her as he held out his hand to help her rise from the chair. She reached up and took it in her own, feeling herself instantly moisten a little more at the warmth and the strength of his strong touch-his male touch.

10

“You want males to care for you, to care about you.” Marc De Silver told Anne Rogers as she lay reclined in a deep hypnotic trance on the large velvet lounge chair in the living room of the home belonging to her and her husband, John.

“You want males to be strong with you. You do not want to challenge maleness. Instead, you want to embrace it, to be embraced by it; to have your femaleness overpowered by that maleness.”

“You know now that males don’t want to fight you, but that they want to love you, as a female, if you will only just let them be who they really are-males, and allow yourself to be who you really are-a female.”

Anne Rogers’ thoughts swam in and out of her mental focus as she rested and half-listened; thoughts of strong men, of tall men, of naked men; of intense looks of desire, lust and powerful grips of wanting.

Marc De Silver knew the woman was taking it all in, or at least a part of her was-the female part-the important part.

“Males want to serve you, to love you.” He went on. “They want to give you all and hold nothing of their maleness back from you, unless you prevent its forthcoming, and in that way destroy the male and unleash the useless man.”

“You have the choice now, to be free, to be a slave to society and unhappiness no longer; and to accept the natural slavery of your own femaleness. As a female you must and can now choose between freedom as a natural female and captivity as a society-created woman. Choose that which is best for your natural long term and predestined happiness.”

Her thoughts were becoming mixed with images-strange images-arousing images, but none were concrete. She began to strive to hold on to them for as long as possible.

Marc De Silver ceased talking temporarily and observed the attractive woman, allowing his subconscious to decide on the next step, the next phrase-the next message of intent.

“Males may do as they wish with you.” He began. “And to be happy, you will wish what they wish for themselves as a male; for to satisfy their needs you are satisfying your own natural female needs and will create your own moment by moment happiness.”

“Males may strike you physically, cruelly, and hurt you in doing so, such that you sample the taste of your own blood, but it will be because they care for you through their maleness, through their strongness for you as a female. They may chain you or collar you or tie you to the foot of their bed.”

“You will feel the tightness of their maleness about your throat and be warmed by I t, as only a true female can be, who is safe in the security and protection of her male being who he really is for who you really are. And your happiness will know no bounds.”

Anne Rogers’ mind and senses simmered; a boiling mass of ready-to-be-released femaleness on the verge of eruption. She mentally, emotionally and physically held on to each powerfully arousing image as it entered her mind, invaded her senses, permeated her awareness as a female, the woman in her long gone from her moment of now. She felt her thighs squeeze together tightly, involuntarily.

The woman stirred. Marc De Silver paused momentarily, waiting until her subconscious mind came to grips with new ideas, new concepts, and new beliefs.

“Males will be strong with you.” He continued firmly. “While your need to exist to serve their needs, in that they may serve your own grows stronger in the presence of their maleness.”

“You will be grateful that you have caused them to look upon you that way and find you most pleasing, because of your femaleness. So, you should choose your freedom and choose the natural and ecstatic slavery of your own sensuality, your own femaleness-your own sexuality.”

Images of leather-studded collars, shiny steel collars, leashes of soft velvet came to Anne’s mind. She inhaled herself and became acutely aware of her own sensual musk in its fevered rising, but felt no shame-suffered no embarrassment. It intoxicated her, empowered her, and inflamed the core of who she really was-a female.

Marc De Silver’s eyes were gently closed while his subconscious mind made natural use of his vocal chords, his mouth and his lips, and his instincts.

“You will choose to be who you really are for males and for he who takes you with wanting to. And should he wish it you will slut for him as his slut for his own private and fullest sensual use of you.”

“And in that will you be the happiest of all females. But it is he who will decide while you enjoy his attentions, the attentions of a male who wants your femaleness, who wants who you really are, for yourself and yourself alone.”

The pressure of Anne’s thighs as they crushed the images between them increased that which had begun many minutes before. The images of strength, of power, of males, of being wanted for who she really was and of being taken and used in exactly that way were creating and causing her own inner heated flood.

Her smell became as a powerful aphrodisiac to her mind and senses, which she inhaled of fully. It enflamed her inner female core even more.

Marc De Silver paused, but only for as long as his subconscious mind would allow before the next insight, the next word passed over his lips for her long-term happiness and benefit, bound for their sensual intended recipient.

“The woman you have been no longer exists in your life’s happiness for you, and to bring her back will only bring doom to the future happiness of who you really are-a female who is highly valued and treasured by all true males.” Marc De Silver suggested firmly, but in a caring tone of voice.

“You are no longer now, and do not want to be the person you used to be. You were never truly happy and you know it now. You are female and exist for males as they exist for you.”

“The natural power exchange completes itself in the happiness and natural bondage to your own slavery- to your own femaleness, every second of every passing moment for the term of your natural female life. And your happiness will know no bounds.”

Without creating it and without making it happen-without the awareness of its headlong rush, she experienced full well it’s debilitating and crushing, powerfully intense onslaught.

Anne Rogers found herself yielding body and soul. She yielded willingly and naturally as a pure female for the very first time to the most powerful, the most sensual, and the most sexual climax of her entire life. It tore her womanhood, her womanness to shreds.

“Ohhh, my god!” She moaned as wave after wave of pure pleasure washed and bathed her mind, body and senses from head to toe as she crushed the powerful; images of his voice between her convulsing thighs and groin. “Ohh, dear! Sweet Jesus!”

Marc De Silver’s voice ceased speaking as her moans of ecstasy came and went, ripping through her physical body with a not-so-gentle vengeance. His eyes gently opened and smiled along with his lips as she thrust and rolled her hips and thighs from side to side in the big chair for several minutes before finally becoming quiet and still as her awareness of any kind left her in fainting.

A thin sheen of perspiration glistened on her forehead, her face, and her neck. Her groin still trembled visibly with small, but intense aftershocks, remnants of that most exquisite female pleasure of which she had just experienced so completely and found so utterly debilitating.

Marc De Silver’s smile widened then for all female-kind, for all male-kind.

He hoped the old man would be proud of him, wherever he was. His heart rejoiced for yet another covert conversion.

Yes, he thought proudly of his most recent efforts—Anne Rogers would no longer be the woman she used to be. None of them would be.

Instead, they would be eternally happy, as who they really were—natural females.