Pool Party
Chapter 2
We drove home in silence. My wife was clearly pissed off at me for what she regarded as me making a fool of myself. I was pissed off at her for her reaction. So I’d had a few drinks and maybe this guy had talked me into doing a few goofy things but there was no way it was as bad as she was saying and of course I was just going along with it. I could have stopped anytime. I was annoyed at myself for not doing so but deep down I was also a bit freaked out because I couldn’t really remember what had happened and I knew this hadn’t gone as I’d thought. Nevertheless I was sure Kate was exaggerating. Anyway, I was glad we would never see him again and my wife only knew one person at the party so there wouldn’t be much comeback. It was all in the past.
I was also pissed off at some of my wife’s comments about ‘being a black man’s bitch’ and ‘this n***** turned you into his little sissy’. Besides being inaccurate, I wasn’t too keen on her language. We’d always been pretty closely aligned in our feelings towards black men. We weren’t, well, racists, but we didn’t know any black people and there’s no way either of us would ever, well, obey one. But now I was having second thoughts. Black men looked good. They were, well, strong and powerful. Perhaps we should respect them more, and even do what they tell us from time to time. Why not? And these disturbing images of her having sex with a black man kept flashing through my mind. I especially thought of her with the hypnotist. God, I bet they’d look hot together. I wonder how big his cock was. Jesus, why was I thinking like this? Again, I was glad all this was in the past and we wouldn’t see him again. But I was pissed off with her for not being more open minded.
I’d decided I was really going to give it to her that night in bed. Reassert my dominance. As much as I knew she was exaggerating with all this stupid talk about me being under the hypnotist’s control, I knew I hadn’t exactly displayed my usual alpha male status that day so I’d do it in bed to get things back on an even keel. By the evening Kate had chilled out and looked stunning. With her perfect gym-honed figure and straight blonde hair, she looked a million dollars. She’d just had her nails done. It all started well enough as we kissed and made out. This was going to be good; I could feel her yielding to me and submitting in that way she liked to. She was so submissive to me in bed and loved me taking charge.
But then I realised my dick just wouldn’t get hard. She looked gorgeous and I felt turned on but my dick was still soft and flaccid and, frankly, small. “You OK, honey?” I heard her say, as she wrapped her hand around it and started gently playing with it. It felt good—but nothing happened. I looked at her gorgeous pink nails and thought how good they’d look wrapped round a big black cock. Especially the hypnotist’s cock. Damn what was wrong with me? This had never happened before. I started getting these nagging doubts about my own potency. I’d always been a buff, tall, alpha dude but my dick wasn’t that big. Like a lot of gym guys, perhaps I was compensating for it in some way? It never occurred to me that my wife didn’t find it satisfying but suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Looking down at her playing with it I felt a little, well, inadequate. Wouldn’t she prefer a better endowed man? Wouldn’t she prefer a black man? God, I bet that would look hot. Jesus, what was I saying? My head was spinning. I noticed my dick starting to get hard. Rock hard. I was embarrassed so I blocked out all these thoughts of my wife with a black man. Almost instantly I went soft again. “We don’t have to do it tonight, honey,” she said, looking a bit perplexed. Here I was ready to fuck her like an animal and I was fucking impotent! I had to do something fast. Again, I started imagining her with a black man. I thought about that hypnotist. Damn, I just kind of knew he’d have a big dick and would be able to fuck her much better than me. Wow, imagine that.
Within seconds my dick was rock hard again. My wife smiled. “I know what an animal you are, baby,” she said. She had no idea. I wasn’t turned on by her or what she was doing—I was turned on thinking of her with that fucking dumb hypnotist. It was weird but Jesus it was powerful. Imagine her lips around his huge black cock. How did I even know he had a huge cock? Somehow it was obvious. Would she enjoy his extra size? I bet she would. I’d love to see it, perhaps he’d let me watch and wank. I’d… what? I couldn’t believe I was having these thoughts. Let me? As if I needed permission. My wife… with a black man? My head was whirring with all these thoughts and suddenly I came within seconds, powerfully. I was spent but I realised it must have been unsatisfying for my wife. First, I was unable to get hard and then I came almost instantly while thinking of her with a donkey-dicked black man. She didn’t say much but I could see she was a little confused and frustrated. So much for fucking her hard tonight and showing her who was in control. I’d pretty much shot my load in a minute.
Chapter 3
Things went back to normal out of bed after that. Our relationship carried on as before and we didn’t talk about the hypnotist, except once when we were rowing and she said half jokingly ‘I’ll get that hypnotist to come and turn you into a bitch again if you don’t agree with me”. I was both mad and aroused hearing her say it but I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t let her know how much I thought about him. Things were still anything but normal in bed. Basically, I still couldn’t get a damn hard on unless I thought about my wife with a black guy. I learned to manage it by kind of thinking about it a bit and then easing off a bit to prevent me cumming too soon but it wasn’t easy and I invariably got more and more turned on by the thought and came quicker and quicker. God knows what had got into me but I was sure it was just a phase and soon things would be normal. But for now I had premature ejaculation and an unsatisfied wife who was spending extra time with her vibrator. When she went out I started watching interracial porn. It was amazing. I’d never seen white women fucked so expertly or look so hot. I found a woman called Lady Anaconda who completely re-educated me about black men and their superiority to white beta men and how it was natural for women to desire them and white men to serve them. God, it all made sense. How had I been so blind?
I didn’t know what was going on but I did kind of think it was something to do with that hypnotist. It had been six weeks since the show and all my issues had started since then. I was annoyed that I hadn’t just punched the jerk when I saw him hitting on my wife. If I ever saw him again I’d mess him up big time. But at the same time—and I’d never admit this—I was a little bit afraid of him. And aroused, Incredibly aroused. I’d seen him hypnotise and embarrass other guests at the show and although my wife was surely exaggerating what he did to me I knew he’d got the better of me. He was powerful… I bet my wife would get so turned on by him. Damn, there I went again. Why was I having all these stupid thoughts?
The following weekend we met my wife’s work friend who had been at the pool party for a few drinks. I hoped she wouldn’t mention the hypnotist although another part of me wished she would as I loved hearing about him. After a while we were getting a bit tipsy and were trying to order some more drinks but couldn’t get served. My wife’s friend said ‘damn, I wish we had our sissy waiter tonight’ and started laughing. My wife forced a smile. It clearly still hurt her to think of me like that but she was starting to relax about it and joined in the joke. “I don’t think he’s quite in the mood tonight,” she said. Her friend replied: ‘He sure was that night. You were doing everything that hypnotist told you, weren’t you Tom? You were such a good boy!” she said, turning to me. I just blushed.
“Becky,” my wife said. “I’ve been trying to forget that night and he doesn’t even remember it.”
“What? He doesn’t remember wearing that maid’s uniform and responding to being called a sissy and getting turned on by being called a good boy?” she said.
I didn’t know what she was on about. I knew from my wife I’d been led on a bit and done a few embarrassing things but this was hard to believe. I just stared dumbly.
“He really doesn’t remember, does he?” Becky said, giggling.
“Nope,” my wife said. “He was totally zonked. I didn’t want to tell him the whole truth and thought he wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
I thought I’d better say something.
“I had a few drinks and made a bit of a dick of myself but it was nothing much.” I said.
“Nothing much?” said Becky. “You were, like, totally owned. You couldn’t have been any more under his power. All you wanted to do was please him and be his good boy.”
Fuck… what was she saying? And why did those words ‘good boy’ electrify me so much?
“Hey, remember when the hypnotist told him to start hitting on that guy?” Becky said. “He was all over him. He turned him into a gay boy.”
Jesus Christ, what was she saying? Did I really do this? My wife sensed me embarrassment and said: “Let’s change the subject. It was just a one-off bad experience.”
Becky got the message and apologised for going on about it. I was totally stunned, humiliated and aroused. Eventually the night got back on track. But I was jerking off to Kate and Becky on their knees serving the hypnotist for days afterwards.
Chapter 4
About two months had passed since we met the hypnotist and on the surface everything was back to normal. But things were anything but normal. I was constantly thinking of him and becoming increasingly obsessed with the idea of him fucking my wife and me serving him. I’d never felt in any way submissive to another guy but the thought drove me crazy.
When I wasn’t thinking about it I was raging against it, thinking how much of a creep he was for hitting on my wife and making a fool of me and promising that if I ever saw him again I’d lay him out. But how could I ever see him again? I didn’t even know his full name or where he lived.
One thing that really was starting to bug me was that I still couldn’t get a hard on unless I thought of my wife with him or another black man. At first I just thought it was one of those weird short-term things that would get back to normal quickly but here I was, six weeks later, basically impotent unless I had these depraved thoughts about my wife… with a black man, goddammit. I was half the time disgusted and half the time as turned on as hell thinking about it. I was still managing my sex life with my wife on the basis of having intermittent thoughts about her and black men. It was far from perfect though. I found if I thought about it too much I got incredibly turned on and came in seconds. If I lost the thought completely my erection would go in no time. I knew my wife was unsatisfied and I’d also become increasingly paranoid about the size of my dick. It was, well, quite small. Tiny, in fact, compared to most of the black ones I’d seen when I watched porn. No doubt they could satisfy my wife and I yearned for it to happen. Then I felt sick for thinking that way.
Anyway, one midweek night my wife went to the gym so I put on my absolute favourite porn from before we met the hypnotist. I loved watching gym fit blondes playing with each other and being dominated by white guys like me. This stuff never failed to hit the mark. No way was I going to look at any interracial porn or think of my wife with black guys. I watched for 5 or 10 minutes, rubbing my dick to get me in the mood… nothing. My dick was totally limp. What was happening? The white dicks looked revolting. I rang a web chat model in the hope that she would get me in the mood. Nothing. She kept asking me what I was into. Eventually I caved in and said I’d love to see you with a black guy and she started telling me how she loved big black cock, or BBC as she called it. God knows if she was making it up or not but within seconds I was rock hard and within a minute or two had blown my load. ‘You white boys are all fags to black men,” she laughed just before the call ended.
It was time to face up to the fact that I had a serious issue. I knew this dated back to the day we met the hypnotist but until now I’d always told myself that was purely coincidence and that it wouldn’t last. He didn’t really hypnotise me and even if he did surely nobody could exert this kind of ongoing power over someone else? And even though I couldn’t remember much about the encounter my wife saw it and she hadn’t mentioned anything to do with me becoming impotent as part of the act. So when else could it have happened? It didn’t make sense but somehow I knew he was responsible—and I had to track him down. I looked at some more interracial porn, imagined it was my wife taking those huge black cocks, and came again hard. I did it a third time, listening to a hot woman called Lady Anaconda who re-educates white men about their roles. Everything she said made sense. What a woman! By now I was totally drained. Eventually my wife came home and was horny as hell. I didn’t think I could possibly rise to the occasion again but as soon as I thought of her with a black guy my dick started twitching again and soon I was totally hard again. It took me maybe five minutes to come this time, which was much longer than usual. It felt like some kind of victory.
The thought of tracking down the hypnotist began to consume me. I was constantly thinking of my wife with him and other black men and one night even mentioned to her that ‘I bet that tanned skin of yours would look gorgeous next to jet black skin’ but she just gave me a look and turned over. I was beginning to resent her casual racism and the way she dismissed black men. Didn’t she realise how much better hung some of them were than me and how much more they’d satisfy her? But she didn’t like it one bit and gave me a look and rolled over. ‘You know I’d never go with a black man,’ she said. ‘And I only want you.’ I should have been pleased by her reply but it irritated me. Didn’t she realise what she was missing? I wished she was more like Lady Anaconda.
I just had to see her with that hypnotist and got this idea in my head that I had to track him down. I didn’t know where to start. All I knew was that he was a black hypnotist called Stephen. Nothing came up on google. I even contacted my wife’s friend who was at the pool party with us to ask if she had any contact details for him on the pretence that I knew someone looking to book a hypnotist. But she didn’t have a clue. Finally, I managed to track down the party planners—a company that put on corporate events. My heart was racing as I dialled the number at the thought that I might actually get to speak to this guy again. Part of me hated him and resolved to knock him out; another part totally idolised him and was obsessed with the thought of worshipping him and watching him fuck my girlfriend. I didn’t believed he had hypnotised me properly but I knew he was exerting some kind of hold over me although I suspected that was just down to something going on in my head.
After several calls and emails I was finally given the number of a woman called Tamara who organised the event. She sounded quite posh and aloof but when I mentioned Stephen I noticed she became quieter and more attentive.
“Yes, I have his details. He is our best client,” she said. “He is the best hypnotist we have ever used. We love dealing with him. I’m afraid I am unable to give you his details. However, if you give me your details I will ensure I pass them on to his personal assistant.”
It all sounded very rehearsed. I gave her my name and number. Perhaps I should have used a false name but I figured there was no danger as he didn’t know who I was. I was just one of many guys he’d duped that day. Besides, I guessed his PA would ring. Before the call ended, I asked if Tamara could tell me his full name. “I’m sorry, it’s actually slipped my mind,” she said, which sounded odd considering he was her best client.
The next day I was watching TV when a hidden number appeared on my phone. I wondered if it might be Stephen’s PA so I casually got up and told my wife it was my mother and walked out.
“Hello, Tom,” said a voice that sounded instantly recognisable. A jolt of electricity ran through my body. God, it was him! I was elated, overjoyed. I suddenly realised how much he meant to me. Hell, what was I saying? I hated him and when I saw him, I was going to smash his face in. I’d just play along and pretend I was a prospective client and meet him and then walk in and punch him… or ask him to screw my wife. Damn I was all over the place. While I was wrestling with this I heard his soft but assertive voice.
“I think we’ve met before Tom. You were a very good boy, do you remember?” Shit, how did he know who I was? And why did I get this sense of excitement and obedience when he called me a good boy? What a jerk. Talking to me like that. I was all over the place.
“No doubt there is part of you that wants to put the phone down but if you did that you’d be admitting you were totally weak and could not resist me. Am I not wrong, Tom?”
Am I not wrong? What was he on about? I suppose, like he said, it would be weak to run away and I wasn’t going to be weak for anyone.
“I guess you’re right,” I said.
“Good boy. Of course I am. You got in touch because you were desperate to hear my voice, weren’t you?”
“Er, no, I mean yes, well kind of… how do you know we’ve met before?”
He laughed. Then he talked in that low and assertive voice of his and I just got lost in it. It just kind of washed over me, I found myself half listening, half asleep. It just felt so right to listen. God he was wise, everything he said seemed true. Something about wanting to please him, obeying him, enjoying being a good boy… then he reminded me how sexually inadequate I was and how I was effectively denying my wife happiness by forcing her to have my small, weak white cock when she could be having his much bigger one. I felt deeply ashamed—of course he was right. Then he said a few more things, adding:
“When are you next at home alone?” he asked.
“My wife will be at the gym from 7 until 8pm tomorrow night.”
“I want you to be in the house alone at that time and answer the door when someone calls. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy. Now you will forget this call but everything I have said will remain in your subconscious mind and you will obey everything. You will continue to obey me whenever we speak and never do anything to harm me. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
That excitement again.
“Oh, and Tom, when you wake up tomorrow you will have an overwhelming urge to wear your wife’s underwear all day at work. You will particularly want to wear pink and frilly items and will love doing so. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“When the call ends you will think it was just a wrong number.”
The line went dead. I felt a bit dazed as I walked back into the room with my wife.
“How’s your mum?” she asked.
“It was a wrong number,” I said.
“I thought you said it was your mum?”
“Huh? Did I? I must have been mistaken. It was a wrong number.” Where did she get that stupid idea?
We had sex that night, again I had to imagine her with a black man to get hard. For some reason tonight I was even more obsessed with the idea and felt embarrassed about my pathetic white cock. The urge was so strong I even asked her if she’d ever fancied a black man. She looked disgusted and we had to stop making love.
“You know I find them all gross,” she said. “God, that’s totally turned me off. You must stop these sick ideas.”
I was a bit embarrassed but mostly I was pissed off at her for her stupid reaction. I was so annoyed at her stupid, prejudiced attitude and was seriously starting to wonder if she had mental health issues. I went to the toilet, thought about her with that jerk hypnotist and came hard.
I was about to go to work the next morning when I suddenly got this idea to look in my wife’s underwear drawer. Damn, she had some nice stuff. I felt how soft it was and marvelled at how wonderful it must feel against the skin compared with my boxers. I had this crazy idea to wear it. Why the hell not? I settled on a really cute lacy pink number, slipped it in my pocket and went into the bathroom and put it on. God, it felt amazing, why hadn’t I tried this before? It was just a bit of fun.
Chapter 5
That night. Kate was at the gym. I was watching TV when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone. I got up and answered. Suddenly this buff guy, late 20s I’d guess, walked in. He was wearing a T shirt with huge words on it saying ‘I’m a hypnotised sissy fag’. What the fuck? He’d been walking around in that? He looked utterly ridiculous. He didn’t introduce himself. He just walked in and blurted out: “That hypnotist Stephen is the biggest fraud going. He thinks he can hypnotise me but he’s fucking useless. He’s never hypnotised me in his life. I told him he was a fraud last night after he finished fucking my wife and I’d finished cleaning his car.”
“He fucked your wife?” I felt insanely jealous. “Did he really fuck your wife?”
But he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge my presence. He sort of knew I was there but didn’t make any eye contact with me or answer me.
“Did he really fuck your wife?” I asked again.
But he just turned and walked out without saying another word. As soon as he got out of the front door he started clucking like a chicken as he went up the road, seemingly oblivious to anyone’s reaction. I watched him walk up the street in his dumb T shirt, clucking away, waving his arms up and down. He was a fit, young alpha guy like me but he couldn’t have looked more ridiculous. He must be hypnotised. Thank god, I wasn’t like him.
Minutes later my phone rang. It was a hidden number.
“Hello Tom, have you just had a visitor?” said a familiar voice. I somehow knew it was the hypnotist. “Was he a good boy? Are you being a good boy?”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to beat up this guy but deep down I knew this was a superficial feeling and that I wanted him so much, I just had to serve him. And when he called me a good boy I got such a shudder of excitement.
“Yes, I think so,” I said weakly.
“That was Michael. A very successful career man with an attractive wife who I met recently. He’s totally convinced he can’t be hypnotised. What do you think Tom?”
“I, well, I don’t know. He looked like he was, but I don’t know. It could never happen to me. Nobody can be that far gone. Maybe he was acting.”
“You think so? Wait there a minute. Don’t hang up but put the phone down and wait then come back to me in 5 minutes.”
Barely two minutes later my doorbell rang again. It was the same guy, wearing the same outfit. He went through exactly the same routine, walking into my living room and saying: “That hypnotist Stephen is the biggest fraud going. He thinks he can hypnotise me but he’s fucking useless. He’s never hypnotised me in his life. I told him he was a fraud last night after he finished fucking my wife and I’d finished cleaning his car.” Then he walked out again and started clucking like a chicken as he went up the road. I had to admit it was an amazing demonstration of control. I had no doubt now that he was utterly under Stephen’s power. I had to be careful not to fall into the same trap. Or did I? It must be amazing, especially if it means he fucks your wife. Damn, I had to get rid of such stupid thoughts.
I suddenly had the urge to go back to my phone. “What do you think now,” asked Stephen.
“That guy was totally gone. I don’t know what you’ve done to him but he was totally mind warped. He looked like such a loser.”
“He was hypnotised, Tom. Do you think the same thing could happen to you?”
“Hell, no. No way would I ever let myself get in a state like that.”
“Are you sure about that?” There was a pause until he added: “Are you having any trouble with erections? I bet you haven’t been hard for weeks unless you think about your wife with me or other black men, have you Tom?”
How the fuck did he know about that? I didn’t know what to say.
“I bet if you think of her now with me you’ll get the biggest boner you’ve had all week.”
I could actually feel my cock growing instantly. Damn, it was a hot thought. I was absolutely rock hard.
“But you’re not hypnotised, are you Tom?”
“Course I’m fucking not,” I said, trying to sound tough and assertive.
Stephen laughed.
“Of course you’re not. You’re just a naturally good boy, aren’t you?”
God I felt good when he said that. He laughed again.
“Oh, it’s so funny to hear you struggle. You really don’t know if you’re hypnotised do you?”
“No fucking way am I hypnotised. Got that?”
“Sure, sure… but if I told you now your wife was called Cunt you’d believe me, wouldn’t you? After all, that is her name. I know it’s a bit unusual and you may have tried to blank it from your mind but that’s what it is, isn’t it? Her name is Cunt. It always has been, hasn’t it? Tell me, what’s your wife’s name, Tom?”
“Er, it’s Cunt.”
“That’s a very unusual name, Tom. Are you sure?”
“Course I’m fucking sure. Her name is Cunt. Are you saying I don’t know my own wife’s name?”
“Are you hypnotised Tom?”
“No I am not fucking hypnotised, asshole.”
“Hmmm, maybe not, but you do have an incredible urge to get some of Cunt’s underwear from her drawer. Something pink and frilly. Hurry up, Tom, because if you don’t do it quickly your little white dick might fall off.”
Jesus. I didn’t really have any time to argue with this jerk. I flew to my wife’s room and went through her underwear drawer and found a pink thong. I was terrified about losing my cock, regardless of how small and pathetic it is. I picked up the phone again.
“Now put them on your head.”
I put the pink thong over my face.
“What are you doing, Tom?
“I’ve put Cunt’s thong over my head.”
‘Tell me, Tom, is this the kind of thing you do often?”
“No.”
“Are you hypnotised?”
“No, asshole.”
“So how come you put Cunt’s knickers on your head after I told you to?”
“I just felt like it, OK? Nothing to do with you.”
“So why did you just tell me your wife’s name is Cunt when it’s really Kate?”
Fuck. I did. How stupid of me. I really thought her name was Cunt.
“I guess I just felt like it and you’re good at picking up on these things. But that doesn’t mean I’m hypnotised.”
“I suppose not, Tom. Let me show you something else that you might find hard to explain. You now have an incredible urge to urinate. Can you feel it? You can feel the urge getting stronger, can’t you? It is getting stronger and stronger by the second. Your cock is no longer hard but it is bursting to pee. Absolutely bursting.”
Jesus, I suddenly noticed he was right.
“I, er, really need to pee, mind if I go now?” I said, wondering why I was asking permission.
“Actually, Tom, I do. I do mind. You will stand quietly where you are and wet yourself. Suck your thumb like a baby and wait for it to happen. You can feel it coming, can’t you?”
Hell, yes, I could. But I could hold it, I was sure. Sucking my thumb would take my mind off it. I sucked and sucked but suddenly, it came bursting out, and my jeans and underwear were soaked. I just stood there and let it come until I was soaked and there was piss on the floor and on my clothes.
“Shit,” I said.
“No, Tom, you don’t have to shit. I’ll spare you that,” said Stephen, who I could hear laughing.
I felt utterly defeated.
“You fucking bastard,” I said.
“But Tom, you don’t think you’re hypnotised so why are you blaming me?”
He was right about that. I had no answer. Was I hypnotised? I didn’t feel in any way different but this guy was making a dick of me. I was standing here sucking my thumb with a pair of pink knickers round my head, feeling urine on my legs.
I just stood there in my wet pants waiting for instructions. Why didn’t I just hang up?
“Do you think you were hypnotised?”
“Yes,” I said. “No. Oh god knows.”
“Of course you are. You are totally and utterly under my power. But I love seeing you white boys struggle to believe it so part of you will continue to believe you can’t be hypnotised. Understand, good boy?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to go soon. You can stop sucking your thumb now and put your wife’s knickers back. Have a shower and tidy up. But I want you to be by your phone at exactly 9pm on your own. It’s very important that you do that, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
I felt a shiver that familiar shiver of pleasure again just as he hung up. What a dick this guy was! Man I was going to smash him up bad if I ever saw him again. As if some dumb black guy could hypnotise me! But I was scared. Why was I standing here looking like a total fool? I also realised I had to have a shower and be ready for a phone call at 9pm. It was vitally important.
Chapter 6
“What are your plans for Friday night?” he asked.
“Er, I was just going for drinks with work friends.”
“In your wife’s underwear, no doubt,” he chuckled. “Cancel it. Do you know the Red Lion pub on Stone Street?
It was about two streets from me. I’d been a few times. “Yes.”
“Good. I want you to go there at 8pm. Will your wife be in that night?”
“Probably, yes, after she gets back from the gym at about 7.30pm.”
“That’s good. You will go to the pub at 8pm. Head to the snug bar. Oh, and Tom, when you think about it after this call you will think the T shirt you saw your visitor in tonight is really cool and you will desperately want one. You will order one in time for your trip to the pub next week. You can hide it under your coat or jumper until you leave the house so your wife doesn’t see it but when you leave the house and walk to the pub you will wear it proudly. This is an order, do you understand, good boy?”
“Er, yes… that stupid T shirt.”
He chuckled. “Good boy. Now when I put down the phone you won’t remember talking to me but you will recall your visitor and you will act upon all the commands I have given you. Do you understand?
“Yes.”
He hung up.
The next morning I couldn’t get over that dumb jerk who’d come into my house. Did he have a clue how utterly stupid he looked? It was like he was totally mind warped. But when I thought about it I had to admit his T shirt looked, well, kind of cool. It would be, well, funny to go around wearing a T shirt saying ‘I’m a hypnotised sissy fag’. Obviously I’m not any of those things—well, maybe a bit of a sissy in that I now enjoyed wearing women’s underwear but that was as far as it went. I wasn’t hypnotised and I certainly wasn’t a total sissy. It would be kind of funny to pretend I was, especially as that idiot hypnotist thought I was. If others didn’t get the irony or joke, that was their fault. I went online, found a company that let you design T shirts and ordered one. I then went on another two sites and did the same just in case the first one didn’t send it out quickly.
Fortunately it arrived two days later and by Friday I was looking forward to the weekend. For some reason I was keen to check my wife was following her usual routine and would be back at home that evening. She confirmed she would go to the gym as usual and be back by about 7.30pm and I told her I was meeting a friend at the Red Lion at 8pm. I wasn’t really a drinker so she seemed a little surprised but she was always happy for me to see friends, although I felt a little bad when for some reason I made up a story about who I was meeting. I don’t know why. I just had the urge for a quiet drink in the snug bar there. It would be a great opportunity to wear my T shirt and just chill. I put my pink knickers on and T shirt and looked in the mirror. I looked great but I wasn’t sure my wife would agree so I covered up and put a jacket on even though it was warm. I was getting increasingly pissed off with my wife. She was so hot yet she seemed to have no interest in big black cock. What was wrong with her?
I kissed my wife goodbye and headed off. As soon as I got down the street I threw my jacket over my shoulder and proudly displayed my ‘I’m a hypnotised sissy fag’ T shirt. It was so fucking cool! Some guys walked the other way and started laughing and pointing but I didn’t give a shit. I bet they wished they had one. I was a free-thinking heterosexual man so what did I care what they thought?
I arrived at the pub and headed to the snug. There was a bouncer on the door of the snug, which was a bit odd. This was just a quiet boozer. Anyway, he saw me, noticed my T shirt and waved me in. I walked in and the first thing I noticed was Dave, the landlord, standing close to Stephen the hypnotist. Dave was slumped forwards and looked like he was being supported upright by Stephen. Was he drunk? Dave was popular but had a fearsome reputation. He didn’t tolerate any bad behaviour and although he was into his 50s he was a tough guy who didn’t take any nonsense. But here he was looking totally out of it.
Suddenly I realised that Stephen was hypnotising Dave and from the looks of it he was succeeding. He kept whispering in his ear, clicking his fingers and circling his hands around Dave’s face and Dave just seemed to let him do it. I kept expecting Dave to punch him but no, he was totally focused on what Stephen was telling him. Jesus, this guy was better than I realised. Perhaps because he couldn’t hypnotise me, I’d been lulled into thinking he wasn’t very good but it seemed some people were susceptible to it.
I looked around and noticed the other guy who had come to my house that night and behaved weirdly sitting quietly at a table writing something down. Eventually Stephen suggested I sit next to Dean, which I assume was the name of the other guy in the room. It seemed as good an idea as any. Dean was wearing the same T shirt as me. Clearly, he and Dave were actually hypnotised—what a pair of weak-willed fools. I looked at Dean’s piece of paper and noticed he had written ‘I must be a good boy and obey the hypnotist’ dozens and dozens of times. What a total loser.
“Do you think you could write the same line neater than Dean?” Stephen asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I replied.
“Oh, but you do care, Tom. When you think about it, you care very much. Dean is a very good boy and I reward him by fucking his wife. He’s very grateful for that, aren’t you Dean?”
“Yes,” he said.
“If you are neater than him then maybe I will reward you the same way.”
A bolt of electricity went through my body. I knew Kate would never allow it but boy, I wanted it so badly. I grabbed a piece of paper and started writing the same line in my very best handwriting. Surely I could beat this hypnotised dick. My head was spinning with the excitement.
A barmaid came in to take our drinks orders. Stephen ordered for everyone and said to Dave, who was now sitting dead still with a glazed look, “These are on the house, I believe Dave. Isn’t that right?”. “Yeees,” said Dave, looking a million miles away.
“Is he OK?” asked the barmaid.
“Oh, he’s fine,” said Stephen. “In fact I think if you ask for a wage increase tonight Dave will be very generous, won’t you Dave?”
“Yeees.”
The woman’s eyes lit up and she walked out and brought our drinks back minutes later.
Stephen continued talking to Dave and at some point walked behind Dean, put his hand on his forehead and started tracing circles while speaking in his ear. Then he came over to me and touched my forehead. I can’t remember exactly what happened after that but I remember Stephen saying to Dave, who looked more like his normal self, that we all needed to go to a private room and he would find one. Dave led us up some stairs and into a room.
Stephen told us all to sit on a bed and we did. He then said he was going to reward one of us for being good by fucking his wife tonight. He turned to Dean. “I’ve already fucked your wife so it won’t be her tonight.”
He turned to Dave. ‘Your wife is too fat and ugly for me to fuck. What is she?” Oh-oh, surely Dave was about to punch his lights out.
“Too fat and ugly for you to fuck.”
“Say it again, louder, and address me as sir.”
“My wife is too fat and ugly for you to fuck, sir,” he said much louder. I was speechless. But surely it meant…?
“Yes, Tom. It’s your lucky night. I’ve had some fun with you but you’re only bait to catch the real prize. Your wife is a real stunner. I don’t know why she’s with such a small dicked loser like you. What are you?”
“A small dicked loser.” No point denying it. He was obviously right.
‘Louder. And respectfully.”
“A small dicked loser. sir!”
“That’s better.”
I didn’t know why I said it louder and called him sir. I guess I just didn’t want to cause a scene.
“Right, now listen carefully. You are all small dicked white boy losers. I bet your three dicks put together are not as big as mine. You cannot satisfy women. You need well hung black men to do that. They keep your wives happy so you are very, very grateful to us. Understand?”
“Yes,” we all replied.
“Your small, pathetic white dicks are disgusting and no use to anyone. They are a cause of deep shame to you all. As such you will from now on keep them caged. Dean has already done this. Show them.”
Dean pulled down his trousers and revealed one of the craziest things I’d ever seen. His dick was locked up in a pink cage. Suddenly I realised this was where mine should be too. It was so small and disgusting. My poor wife, having to put up with it all these years. Stephen was right, far better it was hidden away. He might not be able to hypnotise me but I had to agree a lot of what he said made sense. Now how do I get caged? I was already craving it.
“Tom and Dave, strip your lower half naked.”
We both did the same.
Stephen laughed. “I was right. Tiny. Pathetic. Both of you. I’m going to go and fuck Tom’s wife now. Tom and Dave—I have given Dean some instructions, which he will pass on to you. Do as he says and then once you are wearing your cages Dave, you will go back to running the bar and forget all about coming into the room and meeting us. You won’t remember being hypnotised. You won’t think about or even notice the cage until tomorrow then you will have no idea how it got there and be deeply embarrassed. Make sure your wife sees it then go to hospital to get it removed. You will never remember any of this conversation but you will always obey me when you see me and remember you are a pathetic sissy deep down. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and for the rest of this night only you will have the urge to suck your thumb like a baby. Dean and Tom, when you have fitted Tom’s cage you will go back to the snug, order drinks and wait quietly for me to return. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” we both replied.
Stephen walked out. He said he was going to fuck my wife but how did he know where she and I lived? Anyway, it didn’t matter. I just had to listen to Dean, who took out a pink cage and started putting it on Dave. It looked absolutely ridiculous on him but he just stood there, sucking his thumb and accepting it quietly. As soon as Dean locked him in, he dressed and walked off to the bar, still sucking his thumb. Dean then came to me and did exactly the same, He cupped my balls as he inserted my dick into the pink plastic cage. On one level I couldn’t believe I was letting another guy touch me but I was totally neutral about it. I just needed to have that cage on so I did what he said to make it go on and when it locked into place I got dressed and he and I headed back to the snug where we ordered drinks and sat there quietly, looking at our phones and waiting for Stephen to return.
Chapter 7
“Where the fuck have you been?” said Kate as I walked in the door. It was 1am.
“Long story,” I said.
“You should have fucking been here,” she said. She was almost hysterical. “That fucking hypnotist came here. How on earth did he know where we live—who told him?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know but somehow I didn’t care. All I wanted to know was whether he fucked her.
“Er, what happened?” I asked.
“What happened? What happened was he knocked at the door, I answered and freaked out. I told him to go. He started talking to me. I wasn’t going to get into a conversation with him—I saw how he had you drooling like a baby within two minutes so no way was I even going to talk to him. So I screamed at him to leave now and closed the door. He put his foot in the door and there was a brief struggle before I threw him and he fell awkwardly and hit his head on the door. I didn’t stop after that. I just locked the door, went inside and called the police.”
“You did what?” I said, realising my annoyance was showing when she expected sympathy. But I could barely contain my anger. Stephen had come round to give her the fucking of her life and she had refused? Not only that but she’d used her judo skills—she used to be a black belt—and hurt him. I was seriously starting to question her sanity.
“I called the police—what did you expect me to do?”
My mind was racing. How should I handle this? I just had to protect him from the police—and I had another reason not to involve them. I’d just been arrested myself.
Dean and I had sat quietly waiting for Stephen to return until the pub closed. We were eventually asked to leave but neither of us did. We had to wait for Stephen. We didn’t have permission to do anything else. The landlord came down, sucking his thumb looking stupid trying to insist we left. He didn’t seem to remember he’d been talking to us earlier and we knew he was wearing a cock cage. He just told us to go and he and when we refused he and some colleagues tried dragging us out we resisted. We just had to stay and wait for Stephen. We had to. Eventually they called the police and several officers dragged us into police cars and took us to the station.
They kept asking why we wouldn’t leave and we just said we were waiting for someone. After questioning us at the station they let us go but warned us we could be charged. We went back to the pub to wait for Stephen but it was locked and dark so we went our separate ways and I walked home. I felt terrible for not staying at the pub. I just had to be there. Now I’d been arrested and my dumb, mentally ill wife wanted to press charges against the guy who could give her exactly what she needed. I was furious with her but realised I had to stay calm.
“Should I press charges?” said Kate.
“No!” I said.
“Why on earth not? Don’t you care about my safety? A guy I barely know just turned up on my door and tried to get in. I’m pretty sure he was trying to hypnotise me too. That’s fucking weird and dangerous.”
“Let’s not do anything hasty. Besides if you threw him to the ground and he was hurt then he could press charges. Was he badly hurt?”
“I don’t fucking know or care. What does it matter?”
God she was testing my patience. If she had hurt Stephen I was going to go nuts. I had to know.
“Well, could he get away OK?”
“Yes, he staggered off holding his head. I think he cut it when he fell.”
“Jesus I hope he’s OK.”
“What? What about me? Don’t you care if I’m OK? Why do you give a shit about this creep? He should be struck off or behind bars. Fucking weirdo messing with people’s heads.”
I was seriously thinking of punching her now. I could not listen anymore. I walked off. When I calmed down I managed to persuade her not to press charges. She didn’t seem overly sure but I convinced her the time and effort, plus the threat of being sued by him, wasn’t worth it. Dumb bitch, she deserved locking up for what she did.
Chapter 8
With everything going on I’d almost forgotten my dick was now locked in a pink cage. I didn’t have the key either—Dean had it. Perhaps I should have kept it but frankly I didn’t care any more. I loved wearing it. I was proud of it. It was how white boys should be. I also had my wife’s pink underwear on. I didn’t care anymore what she thought. She was mentally ill anyway. So I just got undressed in front of her.
“What on earth are you doing in my underwear?” she gasped.
“I just fancied wearing it,” I said.
“You what? It looks utterly ridiculous. You look like a gay boy. And what’s that underneath?”
I showed her the cage.
“Ok. Right. I can’t take this anymore. This is totally freaking me out. What is that?”
“It’s a cock cage.”
“Why are you wearing it?”
“It’s what white guys with small dicks should wear. White guys whose wives need real men. Black me. Black men with man sized dicks. Don’t you like it?”
She just stood there open mouthed then walked out. “I’m going to sleep in the spare room tonight,” she said.
The following morning I decided I wasn’t going to be bullied by my crazy wife. I just walked around proud in my cage and pink underwear. I couldn’t stop thinking of Stephen and how I’d let him down by leaving, and how my insane wife had attacked him when he came round to give her what she needed. Stephen might not be able to hypnotise me but I’d realised he talked a lot of sense and had encouraged me to be the guy I should be.
It was mid-morning and my wife was still in bed when my phone rang. I almost leapt up in excitement and went somewhere quiet when I realised it was Stephen.
“Tom, listen to me,” he said. He spoke a few words, which I can’t quite remember, but I suddenly felt incredibly relaxed and elated. Then he said I needed to listen hard to what he said because it was vitally important that I understood and helped him. It felt like the least I could do after all he’d been through at the hands of my crazy wife.
“Your wife is mentally ill, Tom. She badly needs help. If we don’t help her something really bad will happen. Do you understand?”
“Yes! Yes,” I said. I totally understood. Everything he said made sense. Lousy hypnotist but bright guy.
“A woman will come up your drive at 3pm and post an envelope through your letter box. It’s Dean’s wife. She won’t knock or stay. In fact if anyone does try to talk to her she won’t communicate with them. She will just post the envelope and go. She’s a very good girl who likes to help me out and as a reward I sometimes fuck her.”
Now that was how it should be. How come Dean’s wife was so sensible yet mine was so fucking dumb? It made me furious.
“The envelope contains some tablets. I want you to make your wife a hot drink as soon as possible after the envelope arrives and put the tablets in it. Does she like tea or coffee?”
“Coffee.”
“Good. Make her her usual coffee and add the tablets. It’s extremely important that she doesn’t see you add them and that you don’t mention them to her. Just treat it like you are making her a normal drink and discreetly add the tablets. Then wait 30 minutes and call me. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“It’s very, very important that you do this at the earliest opportunity and don’t tell her or anyone. We don’t want everyone to know she’s lost her mind. But we can save her if you give her these tablets. Just make her a drink and quietly put them in without her seeing. Wait 30 minutes and call me on this number. Your wife will probably be feeling sleepy by then. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
He made me repeat the instructions, which I was happy to do as it was such an important task. We were going to save my wife!
Chapter 9
“Tom, we need to talk.”
What did the crazy bitch want now?
“There’s been a lot of weird stuff going on lately. Stephen’s visit really freaked me out. Like, really freaked me out. Yet you seemed more concerned about how he was than how I am. Then I see you with that ridiculous gay thing on your dick… and you’re wearing women’s underwear… I had no idea you were a faggot. You were always so macho until lately. But things have turned weird… let’s face it, you haven’t been able to last in bed more than two minutes for months now and you’ve become way less assertive. It’s like you’ve lost all your manliness and strength. Now you’re going on about black men.”
What was she droning on about?
“I just can’t take it anymore. I want a real man. One who doesn’t wear a fucking bitch boy cage. I’m leaving, Tom. I just lost all respect for you when I saw you last night. I had been considering it. You’ve been acting very strange lately.”
“Right,” I said. All I could really think about was whether it would affect me giving her the coffee later. Nothing else she was waffling on about mattered much.
“I must say you’re taking it well. You seem very calm.”
I was silent. What do you say to an insane person?
“I’ve also called the police about that hypnotist.”
“You fucking what?” I could feel my fury rising. I stood up and walked towards her. “Are you totally fucking insane, you moron?” I clenched my fists. I was having to fight hard to hold back.
“Tom, why are you so angry? He tried to force his way into our house. He tried to hypnotise me! He’s a very skilful mind manipulator. A minute of conversation and I’d have been away with the fairies, like you were. I don’t think you’ve ever fully come back since it happened to you. Sometimes I think he’s still got you hypnotised. Tell me honestly. Have you seen him again? We can get help if you have.”
That was perhaps the dumbest thing she’d said so far. She kept throwing that ‘you were hypnotised’ shit on me and it was obvious I wasn’t, I’d just gone along with a few mild suggestions and could have stopped at any time.
“Don’t be stupid,” I said, thinking what to do. I was so, so angry with her. But I had to give her this coffee later.
“Seeing you controlled by that black man was one of the most humiliating things I’ve ever seen. I still haven’t dared tell you half the things he made you do because I didn’t want to dent your male pride. A black man! We both used to have the same views on them. Now you’re so woke. But neither of us would ever do what black man said.”
“What’s wrong with listening to a black man?” I couldn’t take any more. “Lots of women are attracted to them. They love their big black dicks. It’s natural. Get over it. I had totally the wrong idea about them and I’ve matured. Grown up. I’m ashamed of the way I used to think. Haven’t you heard of the New Black World Order and visionaries like Lady Anaconda? You need to wise up. Look her up. Support her. You go on about my poor sexual performance—haven’t you thought that you should take a black lover? It’d be good for our relationship.”
Kate just stood their wide eyed and open mouthed.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re on about. This is absurd. I reckon that hypnotist warped your mind. I can’t explain it. You haven’t seen him since, have you? Tell me honestly. I know he could take you down easily and if it happened just be honest and we could seek help.”
“Of course not.” Nevertheless. I couldn’t look her in the eye when I said it.
“Well. In that case I’m going to pack my things.”
It was 2pm. She couldn’t leave yet. I had to think of a plan.
Chapter 10
“Honey, you’re right,” I said. “I have been acting weird. I should have understood how you felt. Of course you were right to call the police. I’ll get rid of this cage. It was just something I played around with. A guy at work bet me £100 I wouldn’t do it. I’ll get back to the gym and if that hypnotist ever shows his face again I will beat his ass.” I didn’t believe a word but I knew I had to say whatever it took to get her to stay a while.
She looked directly at me. “Oh, Tom, I don’t know what to think. I want to believe you but so much has happened. I’m going to stay with my parents for a while. Let’s see how things look after a couple of weeks. I totally love you as you were but you’re unrecognisable these days. I’m going to call a taxi soon. We can talk in a week or so.”
“OK. OK. I said. But let me just cook you a meal. Let’s part on good terms. Let’s not leave as enemies. I’ll make something really nice. Just relax a while and let’s just enjoy some moments together before you go. OK?”
A long pause.
“Fine. But I’m going to leave today. I need time to think.”
Thank god. The dumb bitch had fallen for it and was going to stay. It was 2pm. I had to keep her a little longer.
I sat in a seat by the living room window and at exactly 3pm I saw an attractive woman with a totally blank expression walk up the driveway. There was absolutely no emotion on her face. She just walked up calmly, posted an envelope and walked back to a car, then drove off. I rushed to the door and collected the envelope. I don’t know if my wife heard it but she didn’t say anything. If she did she probably just thought it was some junk mail.
I put the kettle on. “I’m just making the meal, honey, fancy a coffee?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I made her usual black coffee with a dash of milk, grabbed the envelope from my pocket, added the tablets and put the envelope in the bin. She must drink this. She had to drink it.
“Coffee’s ready. There you go darling,” I said, taking it to her in the room.
“Thanks”, she said and took a sip.
I drank my coffee on the seat next to her. I wanted to be sure she’d drink it. It took a while because it was hot but she drank it totally normally. After about 10 or 15 minutes she started to yawn a bit and look tired. Soon her eyes were totally glassy—she looked totally out of it and just seemed to nod or agree with whatever I said.
I didn’t much care. I just waited until 30 minutes were up and then I called Stephen.
I told her she’d drunk the coffee.
“Good boy,” he said. That thrill again. “Is she relaxed now.”
“Very. She doesn’t look like she can move and can barely talk.”
“Good. I’m outside in my car. Let me in.”
He was here! Oh my god! I almost ran to the door. I let him in.
“Did she tell you about my visit?”
“Yes. She said you fell and hit your head. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. I under-estimated your wife. She’s feisty.”
“She’s a black belt in judo.”
“Oh, that explains it. After what happened I thought it would be best to proceed cautiously. I can hypnotise anyone in a couple of minutes but she’d seen how easily I put you to sleep and realised she was in imminent danger and lashed out. Smart woman. I like that. And I like even more the fact that she will succumb. I had to cheat a bit with those tablets but she won’t mind and you don’t mind either, do you? You like the fact that I am now the master of the house, don’t you?”
This guy still seemed to think he had hypnotised me previously, which was getting a little tedious but I had to admit I liked the idea of this powerful black man coming in and taking over my wife. How ironic—she’d made up all that crap about me being hypnotised and now she was going to be the one under his control!
Stephen came over and started touching my face or something and started talking very softly to me, saying things over and over again. I can’t remember what but, boy, did I feel relaxed as he spoke. When he finished I realised with absolute clarity that he was here to help my wife and I had to do all I could to assist him.
“Right. You know what to do. Take me to her,” he said.
Chapter 11
Kate was totally glassy eyed on the sofa but she looked startled when I walked in with Stephen.
“What’s going on?” she said drowsily. “What is he doing here? It’s that hypnotist. Get him out.”
“Relax, darling,” I said. “Stephen is an old friend, remember? He’s come here to help us. It’s very good of him. He’s here to help us. Just relax and listen to him, darling.”
“Er, OK, honey,” she said. “Are you sure? He isn’t going to hypnotise me, is he?”
“Of course not! He’s just an old friend who is here to help.”
“I dunno. I don’t like black men in my house.”
Stephen stiffened a little as she said that but immediately regained his composure. He walked over to her and started whispering in her ear. Then he started touching her face, or something. At first Kate looked alarmed and tried to resist but she was too far out of it to do much. Pretty soon she was going with the flow and listening to him. He kept talking and touching her. He looked very skilled to me in the way he went about it, which I suppose highlighted how strong I am to be able to resist him. Pretty soon my wife appeared to be following his gentle suggestions faultlessly. Eventually he turned to me and took out his car keys.
“My car needs cleaning. You’re being very rude not offering to clean it for your guest.”
Shit, he was right. What was I thinking?
“God, I’m really sorry,” I said.
“You have disappointed me. But you can make it up to me by going out now and giving it a very thorough clean. Do you understand? I will call you when you can come back in.”
It seemed a little odd waiting for another guy to give me permission to get back into my own house but I felt so bad about not offering to clean his car I didn’t say anything.
I just muttered my agreement and set off. I cleaned, and cleaned and cleaned. I don’t know how much time past before I received a phone call.
“You can come back in now.”
When I came back my wife was looking more like her normal self but in another sense she was totally different. She was beaming from ear to ear and looked absolutely delighted to be with Stephen. What was going on with my racist wife? She was grabbing his arm and almost drooling in his presence.
“Oh darling, it’s so good to see you,” she said. “I’ve been a right bitch lately. I’m so sorry. Stephen explained a few things to me. I didn’t realise how cruel I was being towards you and how stupid my racist views are. I think I was mentally ill. I always secretly wanted black men but didn’t think I was good enough. Stephen says if I’m really good he will introduce me to some friends. He’s such a hottie! He just fucked me and I have to say it was easily the best sex ever. I didn’t realise how strong and powerful black men are. It’s all I want now. And darling, I didn’t realise how small and pathetic your cock is. You did, and it was very sensible of you to wear the cage and my underwear because you’re not a real man. It’s wonderful that you realise that. I love you more than ever but of course you can’t compare sexually to Stephen. You know that don’t you?
“Yes.”
I felt so happy. Somehow Stephen had managed to cure my wife of her mental illness and I felt so happy and optimistic about our future together. We just needed him to take charge and fuck Kate every now and then to keep her happy. I just had to keep my pathetic little cock locked up and keep her happy in other ways. Stephen was a lousy hypnotist but I had to say he had a way of getting things done.
The next night I was sitting in my car on a quiet street on the other side of town, waiting for a call from Stephen. I was wearing my favourite T-shirt again, the one saying I was a hypnotised sissy fag. It was so funny seeing the reaction of people who really took it seriously! Suddenly my phone rang,
“Be a good boy and do it now,” he said.
I got out the car, walked down the road and up the drive to a house that I’d never been to before. A buff young guy answered. I walked in.
“That hypnotist Stephen is the biggest fraud going. He thinks he can hypnotise me but he’s fucking useless. He’s never hypnotised me in his life. I told him he was a fraud last night after he finished fucking my wife and I’d finished cleaning his car.”
I finished and walked out, vaguely aware that this buff dude was trying to talk to me. A few minutes later Stephen called and I did the same thing again. He told me to do it and of course I wasn’t the slightest bit hypnotised like he seemed to think but it was funny proving I could do it myself. He was such a terrible hypnotist!