Losers Can't Be Choosers

Chapter 11 - "Slave" Is Your Favorite Word

While Angela still had no idea who she was about to run into, and Clarissa begged for more drugs to soothe the pain she was in, Jonah was stuck driving Gail around. He didn't want to do it, but his sister had left him with no other choice, no hypnosis necessary although a few leftovers still crept in the back of his mind.

His memories were returning little by little, fragments at first, dreamy impressions that could dissipate at any moment if he stopped paying attention to them. How could things have gone that far? Just how fucking suggestible was he and why did he accept such abuse? It was scary, heartbreaking even. His sister had told him she would explain it all yet some things defied all explanations. Logic wasn't at his side, and neither were his emotions. He gripped the wheel, menacingly, and hit the gas. The sudden acceleration caused the car to swerve, but he never lost control. The ambulance brisked ahead, and he didn't want to lose it out of sight. Gail wasn't too happy about this arrangement.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" She offered him an icy stare. He ignored her punished visage, eyes fixed on the road. "Jonah, slow down! I want to live another day, thank you very much!" She insisted.

"Please shut up. I don't want to hear anything from you," the gymnast replied.

"And why not?"

"You know very well why."

"Still mad at me for what your sister did? Talk about misdirected anger. You've got issues, you know?"

"Excuse me?!!"

"You've heard me. Issues. And big ones. You really are a loser but, lucky for you, I love them."

"Gail, if you don't stop talking right now..."

"You will punch me, too?" She laughed. "That's okay. I bet you can't hit as strong as your mother, anyway."

Jonah shuffled his feet and smashed the brakes. The vehicle spun aimlessly, barely escaping the collision against an incoming truck and came to a halt in the middle of the street. His seatbelt protected him from a rampaging shock against the dashboard but so did hers, much to his chagrin. Angry horns flew at him from left and right in-between strings of words better left unspoken.

"You're pissing me off."

"Am I?" Gail composed herself. "Because you looked pretty pissed already before. Was it the strap-on? Was that what you didn't like? Or was it something else? It's just the two of us now. Tell me what's going on inside your dirty little mind..."

Jonah hit his fists against the wheel. "This stopped being funny a long time ago, Gail."

"Ah, so you admit it was funny before? Well, not funny but fun at least. Despite your reluctance, a part of you had fun, didn't it? You liked having no control, you liked being a mind fucked hypnotized puppet. Choosing is hard, I know it is. It's best to drift into a guiltless territory by believing one doesn't have a choice, by following instead of leading, obeying instead of deciding the course of your life. Like all losers, you like being told what to do and losers can't be choosers."

"What did you say?" He blinked.

"Losers can't be choosers. You know this is true."

"I've heard that line before..." Jonah mumbled, stray thoughts wandering to the first session at Angela's office. "But isn't the correct expression...?"

"Who cares what the correct expression is?" Gail interrupted him with a shrug. "Words don't matter. How you feel does though."

"You have a lot of nerve, suddenly pretending you care about my feelings! You wanted to turn us into ever obedient playthings for crying out loud!"

"Yes, I did, and I don't regret it. It would have been an improvement for you all, especially you. It's too bad you can't see it now. Too bad, indeed."

"Are you finished?" Jonah calmed down, the ambulance already far gone.

"No. Aren't you a little curious at least?"

"Curious about what?"

"What I said."

"No!"

"Loser and a liar, huh?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Make me," she gave him the other cheek. "Right here, Jonah. Struck me right here with all your loser might! Go on, if I'm pissing you off so much, then punch me and get it over with, I dare you! Punch me, Jonah! Go on, punch me!"

"No," he exhaled the tension away. "It's what you want so I'm not giving you that. Get out."

"Huh?"

"Get out of the car, Gail. I don't want you around another second."

"It's my car! And you're in charge of taking me to the hospital, remember?"

"I don't give a fuck. Get out! If you're strong enough to ramble the way you're doing, you're strong enough to walk."

She crossed her arms and looked the other way, like a petulant child about ready to throw a tantrum. "No, thanks. If you want me gone, drag me out yourself."

Jonah unfastened his seatbelt and exited the car. Traffic was still coming from everywhere and the door was almost ripped out of his hand but he didn't care. Unlike what she suggested, he could choose his actions whenever necessary and he had just chosen to get rid of the bad influence poisoning the air. Circling the stationary vehicle, he reached for the passenger's seat.

"Get out," he repeated.

"No. It's funny how you said you wouldn't give me what I want and yet you obeyed me. Admit it, Jonah. You want to obey. You want to obey all the time. You want to be a loser following the commands of another even if that person is someone you hate right now. You want to obey me."

"What I want is you gone for good. I said... GET OUT!" he grabbed the secretary by the neck forcing her to move his way. She resisted his strong hands, holding on to the back of her seat, before kicking his left ankle. Jonah bit his lower lip, grip faltering. Another car whooshed by, metallic paint flaking off. Had he taken another step backward, his brains would have been splattered on the headlights.

It was the opportunity she was waiting for. Sensing the danger, Gail reeled him in, bringing soothing words to appease his distraught state of mind. Both hands on his temples, she began talking.

"Jonah, be a good boy and listen. Imagine for a moment that all this tension between us is but a dream, a beautiful dream, a fetish dream where the only thing you have to do is stop being yourself for a moment. This is something you want. This is something you need. This is something you crave. You are a loser but that's okay because you love being one. You love to lose yourself in the worlds of fantasy others create for you, whether through porn, hypnosis, or hypnotic porn. You think it's destroying you but it's not true. If anything, it's the fantasy that keeps you going, a fired up imagination is better than having no imagination at all so imagine with me.

Jonah grabbed her wrists, tried shaking her off, but Gail's dulcet tone seeped into his brain.

"Imagine we're back at your sister's house and not here in the middle of the road. Imagine that you're kneeling at my feet, dry tongue begging to lick my boots. Imagine that all your thoughts, all your concerns are of no importance, because they aren't. Imagine this is all there is because it's true. Imagine the truth can never become a thing of falsehood because it can't. Imagine that what's fake is being brushed away, swept in the wind, silenced by a snap. Imagine the triggers your sister used before, etched on your skin. Imagine they're playing on a loop right here, right now. 'Diaper' *snap*, 'diaper' *snap*, 'diaper', *snap*. Imagine that this rhythm is unbreakable because it is. Whatever you can imagine for me is something that can and will come true. Once your imagination gets going, you can't stop it. You can't because you don't want it to stop. You don't want me to stop talking because my voice is part of your imagination as well and you love imagining so much... keep imagining for me, Jonah. Listen and accept. Listen and obey. 'Diaper' *snap*, 'diaper', *snap*, 'diaper', *snap*. Good boy.

"Imagine the frantic wheels that almost ran you over melting away from your mind... imagine the warm rubber bubbling, dripping... falling onto your skin. Imagine that it moves of its own volition, describing a circle on the back on your hand, and then a square, and then a spiral... imagine yourself looking at the liquid shapes, trying to get ahead of them, anticipating which one will appear before your eyes next... perhaps it will a triangle, jagged angles leaving a black impression on your fingernails, perhaps it will be a hexagon, the three lines from before becoming six, then five, then four... the rubber flows just like your thoughts flow, and your imagination flows with it... imagine you're flowing, floating, fumbling, funneling... imagine you're fucked from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, because you are. Imagine you're mine, because you are.

"Yes, Jonah, Mine is the key, mine is what's real. Imagine yourself going even 'diaper' *snap*, and 'diaper' *snap*. Imagination isn't yours, you're hers. Your thoughts aren't yours, they're mine. You imagine what I want and follow my every lead because you've already lost track of everything else. The shapes keep expanding, sliding across your arms and elbows, whirling around your chest, enveloping your cock. Imagine your cock made of oozing rubber, imagine my right hand guiding it. How many times has a girl given you a hand job, Jonah? Probably not that many because you're too busy kneeling in front of a computer screen jerking off to videos but the beautiful thing of what you're imagining right now is that it's all true. My words are true, my control is true, my overpowering will is true.

Before he could mouth a protest again, she was already unzipping his fly, tugging at his balls. He wasn't hard yet, but it was just a matter of time. Gail took his cock out, pulled it like a lever, pink swollen skin rubbing against her navel. With an upward jerk, she forced him to stay in place, immobilized by the sudden rush of pleasure.

"Good. Very, very good. Imagine you're my slave again because you are. Imagine you can't fight my words from taking over because you can't. Imagine you never snapped out of trance because you didn't. Everything you think it happened, didn't happen. Everything you remember after supposedly snapping out of trance was never real. You are still a loser, I own you. I own your balls and I own your mind, I am a Goddess to you and everything Goddess says is true. Your imagination is but a small part of my own, you are what I make of you, you are what I want you to be. You are my loser. Losers can't be choosers. You are my loser. Losers can't be choosers. You are my loser, losing yourself more and more... you will lose. You have no choice.

"Now imagine a vortex, an endless vortex made of the same sweltering rubber, and imagine the infinite abyss beyond it... imagine yourself going there. Imagine that Jonah is just an unknown name amid other unknown names, imagine me discarding it by throwing it into the spiraling pool. That would feel so nice, so perfect even for the best name for a slave is slave, anyway. Imagine I'm holding your false name in my hand, draining it like I'm draining a sponge. Once it's dry, it's no longer important, the lie can go away. Your false name is a thing of the past, something you imagined once before realizing that only what I imagine for you is what matters. Only my words, only my commands, only my will... imagine I'm now holding that part of you over the threshold of forgetfulness. I will throw it away and you will forget for me. You will forget being hypnotized, brainwashed, brought under my complete control once again. You will forget because I want you to and I always get what I want from you. You have always served me. Serve me again. Serve me forever. Serve me, slave! Serve your Mistress. Sleep and forget. *snap* Sleep and obey. *snap* Sleep!"

Jonah's eyes rolled backwards as he collapsed atop her breasts, his imagination no longer his own. Gail let go of his cock, the palm of her right hand glistening with pre-cum. "Get a fucking room, you two!" A careless driver shouted as he passed them by.

"Jealous much?" Gail replied, but he was already too far away to listen. "Don't worry, my slave. You got me all to yourself. There's no place I'd rather be than inside your mind right now. Keep listening to my voice, and soaking in my suggestions. 'Slave' is your favorite word because it reminds you of who you are. 'Slave' is also your new trigger, forever lodged inside your subconscious mind. In a moment, I will ask you to open your eyes, your former self returning, but the moment I say the word 'slave', my power will take over again and you will obey. Slaves obey. That's all they do. You will obey me, Jonah. It's time to obey. Open your eyes and wake up."

The blackness of Jonah's thoughts faded into a blurry picture before finding the right focus on her eyes, his manhood now flaccid and exposed for everyone to see.

"How... what... oh, you filthy..." He gnarled.

"No talking back to your Mistress, slave," she murmured, the faint whisper stabbing his will. "Leave that thing hanging and get back to the driver's seat. That's an order."

The gymnast carried out her command without questioning, vacant stare dependent on her next words.

"That's a good slave, as mindless as you should be. You're allowed to come back up again for ten seconds but once I say the word again... Ten..."

Jonah's nose twitched.

"Nine..."

His furious neck turned.

"Eight..."

The dark veins on his forehead lit up from inside out.

"Seven..."

Fingers trembled, his shoulders stiffened.

"Six..."

His teeth glistened like fangs.

"Five..."

A mask of anger clouded his lips.

"Four..."

"G-gail..." he sputtered.

"Three..."

"Gail, I ..." the words struggled to come out.

"Two..."

"I... I will..."

"One..."

"I will..."

"Slave."

"I will obey," he agreed.

"Always," she gloated. "But this will be our little secret for now. No one in your family must know what happened until the time is right. Now let's get going. And slave... drive slowly."

"Yes, Goddess."

She still had a few triggers left to imprint on him before meeting up with Angela again. The once happy hypnotized hypnotist had only seen half of the bitch she could be.