"Thanks sweetie!" I hugged and regarded him with equal enthusiasm, knowing his mind was trying to reconcile with his words, and failing.
"Thinking about getting a nap before tonight's festivities, hope you don't mind," I yawned convincingly.
"Sounds like a good idea, I can do a few things before tonight."
"I'll see you soon then."
Watching that tight ass walk out the door felt like Christmas Eve, and impatient me would get their Christmas morning that night.
***
Dane returned to my apartment a little later, for reasons his mind forgot to reveal, that common mind trick where you have to go somewhere to remember why you're there. Even though it was my apartment, his reason was obviously me. His mind probably rationalized that he'd left something there, and needed to pick it up before any celebrating was going to happen.
Then he found me, resting on my couch.
Anyone else walking in would just see a sleepy girl dressed in comfortable sweats, like they'd fallen asleep watching something on TV. Dane though, stopped in his tracks, looking at me like earlier, like always. One open eye scanned his looking at all of me on that couch, still trying to remember what made him so happy to see me there, forgetting what he couldn't remember.
The hidden memory was the first time I hypnotized him, on my couch. Weeks, months prepping for it felt surreal by the time I took him through some breathing exercises I told him I'd learned, that could help him with workouts. We went at that for a while, till he was like a calm pond, exactly the state I wanted. Before he knew it, I'd snuggled next to him with a friendlier than usual tone of
"Do you trust me?"
"Yeah," his automatic answer.
"Do you trust where I'm going to take you?"
"Where are you going to take me?"
I let his look linger over my face, taking in years of varied feelings for me, fear, attraction, excitement, and in that moment, peace.
"Where you already are," a soothing voice posed something of a riddle.
"A warm place, a quiet place, a safe place. A place made just for you, where nothing can bother you, and everything just makes you feel good and special."
My arm around broad shoulders, hand caressing his, breath in his ear and the nape of his neck, feeling my own warmth transferring into him, and his into me, knowing we were sharing that double-edged trance feeling both sides are often supposed to share, with me in-charge.
"This place is always present, just like you are, just like you want to be. You could close your eyes, and find yourself in this place, drifting off in a sweet nothingness, anchored to nothing except this good feeling. You believe in this feeling like nothing else, trust it above all, because it helps guide you to this place. The longer you think about it, the longer you see similarities between you and this place, as if you are absorbing the qualities of this place, as if you are this place. You are this place, Dane. You are warm, you are quiet, you are safe, you are calm. You are this place, just like Shawna is this feeling. Shawna helps you to feel good, Shawna guides you to this place of peace. There's no one you trust more than Shawna. When Shawna wants you to feel this good, you are warm, quiet, safe, calm, and happy. You trust what she wants, what she wants of you, and will happily participate and follow her requests, so you can feel even warmer, quieter, safer, calmer, happier, and mindless and obedient."
Hours reinforcing all the programming in him, binding him to me beyond the wildest dreams of my youth; I made sure the common sight of me on the couch where I took ownership of his mind be the key influential reinforcing. At least a few times a week, he'd come into my apartment, get stuck trying to remember being hypnotized, only recalling the good feelings linked to me, rendered ever so pliable nearly all the time.
Add to all that a few chocolate milk's in him, and his eyes and brain grew a horny brand of dreamy, watching me "sleeping" as he focused on his own fantasy.
He blinked a few times, unsure of why things were blurring around him, or why other things were alit with clarity. My couch looked less couch, maybe more altar to dreamy eyes. It probably looked weird for casual me resting on something so majestic, except he saw a Shawna dressed as majestic as Cleopatra, a little skimpy yet regal number, leaving a little and a lot to the imagination, somehow even sexier in eyeglasses, an expression that stated my awareness of owning every last thing in my domain, including the slave boy helplessly staring and his queen.
No hesitation when ushered over, taking in all of me, eventually centering on my breasts, beholden to them like an explorer beholden to the land he wants to trek explore to the hilt. He the explorer desired above all else to scale the mountains, the hard peaks that leave their adventurous hearts hungry, or in slave Danish's case, thirsty. The queen in me let him trek, but soon guided him straight to the mountain top, straps pulled down and letting him enjoy the peaks of victory, drunk on the success of a goal reached, overcome with bliss wiping out every other thought.
After months of working towards and hoping for the lactation fetish and output I always wanted sans childbirth, with breast pumps and many physical stimuli sessions, well-programmed hands properly coaxed well-programmed queenly, heavy breasts and nipples in giving nourishing, brainwashing milk. The tasty fruit of his labor was interpreted as perfection on his tongue. Interwoven love of breast worship and hypnosis grew even stronger when combined. He suckled with half-open eyes, and fully open ears as there were things to do that he should be aware of, yet not. The words made him smile, drink deeper, feel harder than he ever remembered he could be, and before anything could happen, he'd forget about...
Senses slowly let go of the blurry, peaceful sensations filling his head. The closer he came to full consciousness, the more he felt his senses clinging to the dream, gulping a pleasant taste on his tongue. Even with faculties informing of things to do and places to be, he struggled to keep hold of what he lost seconds later. Details cursedly evaded his memory, only left with how it made him feel good, whatever it was. He sighed even harder as memory fully kicked in for what was ahead.
***
He wasn't really opposed to birthday surprises, but he wasn't looking forward to potentially being pranked. And his friends were smart, ensuring last minute that he couldn't back out, and promising harsh birthday licks if he tried. By his guess, if they had their way, he'd be going hog-wild with someone's breasts soon. Some of his closer friends being women left him cold to that idea, including Shawna chewing him out if she ever knew, so he would hope to avoid whatever they were planning.
He made it to the pulsing, crowded club, unable to see any sign of them, hoping they couldn't see him at all. Sneaking inconspicuously from the entrance to the bar, he was set on avoiding their plotting. Dane waved to the bartender, and the frequent patron got a friendly wave back.
"Give me a milk. Chocolate."
Dane recited his usual pop-culture reference that they both were old enough to understand and laugh at, as his fresh bottled drink slid a ways across the bartop. He downed half the drink in one go, trusting the bartender with his choice his he only ever picked a few things. This time he tasted chocolate liquor, a delicious flavor to it, like a Yoohoo but with something else. He let it linger on his taste buds and the aroma on his nose for a moment before taking another sip. Nostrils honed in on that the bottle's rim something like a fragrance, a substance, stronger than from the rest of the bottle. He smelled and licked, and felt his brain light up with guesses.
"Chocolate milk?" went off in his head. Desperation for more grew immediately, while letting the little bit enhance what was already in the bottle. Dane thought about asking the bartender for more, but he decided to wait to see how strong the liquor was. He needed to be on guard for the coming prank anyway.
The full dance floor concealed his friends well, but highlighted their plan for him. About as much a breast-man as the next, knowing they were to be emphasized soon is what made him stare at the sea of cleavage. Which set might be used to tempt him the most? Which set might tempt him more than the rest? That first glass left him on the verge of tipsy, even horny, and he let himself enjoy it. Looking away proved difficult, worse if he got any more intoxicated. He tried excusing himself through the crowd to the wall to rest somewhere; terrible timing since the next song to start booming through the crowd was one of his favorites.
He let loose to the beat, shaking his head, then shoulders, then hips in time. His feet remembered with ease how silly dancing to the song was, and how of all songs, he really didn't care. The liquored capacity became refocused to the music, loving that a crowd opened up to give his body the space it wanted. He sang along to the song as if performing it. And at the refrain, most of the crowd sang it back to him.
"Play that funky music, white boy, play that funky music right. Play that funky music white boy, play that funky music till you die."
Ladies interested in the uninhibited man with broad shoulders and an obvious love for a good time started dancing around him, vying for attention. He danced along, part of his brain wondering if any of the perfumes they wore resembled the ones linked to his drink. Nice as the girls and their tops were, maybe one or two were anywhere close to the scent. Some tried being really suggestive, in his face, mouthing the lyrics. Women of all looks and shapes took their shot, with come-hither stares and accentuated chests, rating to Dane as 'nice enough.' Unbeknownst to him, he lingered on those with darker skin and wider busts. They incentivized him to dance on, writhing in the rhythm, bathing in the club spotlight, until he noticed it moved away to the booth section.
Everyone dancing seemed to look toward the woman the spotlight descended on. Dane' breath caught seeing his dream goddess; a sparkling champagne gold deep v-neck gown, shoulder-wide straps, gold-glittered skin, princessy tiara and gold wrap over an afro ponytail, custom-colored Converse sneakers to match, glitter shimmering mostly across her breasts. She shook her shoulders, rocked her hips, and swayed her sneakers to the song from the comfort of her booth seating, and Dane eyes were fixed on the golden goddess urging him closer with her aura, and a whiff of the scent he'd been looking for. His libido kicked into high gear as the song went on longer than expected, as if part of it was on repeat, and transitioning to a sensual remix of sorts.
