The Hypnotist’s Daughter

The Hypnotist’s Daughter

by Albatross

I was feeling dizzy after dropping Melinda off at home. I had my share of beers at the post-game kegger, but normally I could hold my own. Her creepy Dad switched on the porchlight just as I was gaining some yardage into Melinda’s pants. She was running interference, but I knew no was just another word for yes. Melinda ran in crying when her Dad opened the door and ordered me into his study.

Dr. Barry pointed at an old leather couch, then switched on some new age crap with ocean waves on the stereo. He started playing with one of those silver ball pendulums on his desk and I kept my eyes fixated on them to avoid his wrathful gaze. I was braced for the standard “respect my daughter” spiel, but he was so monotonous I could not stay focused. Crashing against the waves. Deeper and deeper. It all blurred together. Playing for the other team. Disjointed images of my football teammates. Spiraling to inifinity then blackness.

Back in my car, I switched on my Metallica CD to clear my head. But the sound was grating. I needed something lighter, so I scanned the local stations and found some show tunes. Not my thing, but those fags seemed to be right about Judy Garland. I found myself humming right along. The beer was catching up with me so I pulled into a gas station to find a bathroom. I thumbed through a few men’s fitness magazines while the attendant got me the key. I found myself getting a raging hard-on. Melinda really must have blue-balled me.

The bathroom was filthy and some pervert had actually drilled out a glory hole in the stall. With my staff at attention, I couldn’t resist sticking it through the hole. I felt oddly compelled and felt a flash of adrenaline driving me. Anyone could have walked in at any time, but I couldn’t stop. I pulled it out and jacked off while twisting on my nipples. Strange images running through my mind. The bodybuilders from the magazine. I really must have been out of it.

I returned the key to the attendant and grabbed some blow pops at the counter. “Thanks, girlfriend,” I said. I was shocked by what had come out of my mouth and turned in horror to see the expression on his face. The young attendant said, “Fuck off, faggot.” I’m the one who usually did the fag bashing, but I found myself completely out of control. I made a small curtsy, then ran out the door. Something was definitely wrong here. That asshole Dr. Barry must have fucked with my mind.

I spun my car around to get back to Dr. Barry’s house, but I could not remember where it was. The street was deleted from my memory. I sucked furiously on the blow pop in my mouth. Only the rhythmic in and out movement seemed to calm me down some.

I woke up the next morning with a jackhammer hangover. Still fuzzy on what happened the night before. I glanced into the bathroom mirror as I started the shower. I stopped dead. All the body hair below my neck had been shaved off. I was smooth as a Cub Scout. I must have passed out drunk and been somebody’s idea of a practical joke. Still, I couldn’t help noticing how hot I looked. Chiseled abs. Broad shoulders. A nice curved butt. I ran my fingers across my smooth chest and my cock jumped to attention. This wasn’t right. The dream from last night must have been real. Dr. Barry made me into some kind of fag. I grabbed a porn mag from under my bed to test the waters. I pumped away at my cock while looking at Miss October, but my friend fell limp. Suddenly, visions of hot guys filled my mind. I was servicing their cocks on my knees. I was in a daze of sucking and fucking. I could feel my ass being violated, but it felt so right.

None of my clothes felt right so I pulled an old black t-shirt two sizes too small from the back of my closet. It clung to my chest like it was painted on. In class, I couldn’t keep my eyes off my history teacher’s ass. He asked me a question about the Battle of Hastings and I just stared at him dreamily. This was so wrong. I had to find a way to put a stop to it. At football practice, I longed for and dreaded hitting the showers. As I suspected, I tentpoled at the sight of my teammates and could not control myself from slowly lathering my body while I ogled the fresh meat. They saw my freshly shaved body and the cries of faggot and homo were not far behind. I ran from the showers in complete humiliation with my hard prick leading the way.

After practice, one of my teammates, Will, tracked me down in the equipment room. I was sobbing like a girl and he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me toward him. Will was 6 feet tall with curvy blond hair. I had never noticed how piercing his blue eyes were before. I was disgusted with myself, but could not help from being aroused. I dropped to my knees on autopilot and unzipped his pants with my teeth. I drank in the musky smell of his manhood. My tongue twirled around the head of his cock until its full 7 inches were engulfed. He grabbed the back of my head and fucked me like a 5 dollar whore. I was so ashamed and tried to pull back before he came, but he pulled me closer and I choked down his seed. It filled me and I knew that this was my new purpose.

Dr. Barry had programmed me to be a gay whore. Playing for the other team to keep me away from all women. Will flipped me over and pulled off my pants. He plunged into my virgin hole and I felt the pain and pleasure of my new existence. “No, no. Stop it, I cried” But we both knew that no was just another word for yes.

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