Tricks (hypno)
by chester
I have been very successful in meeting my strange sexual needs - by being honest. I search the streets or look at the videos at the dating service to find just the right young man who turns me on - and then I buy him for the evening. He is usually surprised to find that I don't want sex with him. I explain that I have a fetish for hypnosis and for smoking and that I simply want to hypnotize him. I tell him he doesn't really have to be hypnotized, just play along with me. That will satisfy my fantasy.
I have been very careful to make sure he is a non-smoker before I hire him. Part of my fantasy is to turn him into a smoker.
Once he knows he can play along rather than go under, he is quite satisfied, relieved actually, because I am not particularly good-looking and I am sure he would find the act with me rather repulsive.
The qualities I am looking for in a man are very simple. He must have an athletic build, short hair, boy-next-door looks.
I get him comfortable, and I start talking to him in a low, droning kind of way. It never has failed. Within ten minutes I have him into a trance. He, like most of them, goes under very deeply because he is very imaginative, a quality that has come in very handy for him when he hasn't liked his partner.
I begin to question him after another ten minutes of standard deepening techniques: "Have you ever tried smoking?"
He has.
"Go back to that time. Where are you? See it again."
He was quite young. It made him ill or he got caught and punished.
I keep him twelve years old. I give him a cigarette, and he tries it again, but this time it makes him feel good, kind of drunk and very relaxed. I am now his friend, Bobby or Mark, who was with him. I teach him to inhale, very slowly at first, until he gets the hang of it. I watch as the first smoke is exhaled through his nostrils. I keep telling him how much he is enjoying it, how big it makes him feel, how his other friends will be jealous of him.
As he inhales some more he actually does feel drunk and giddy. He begins laughing and having a good time.
Then I take it away from him. I am suddenly an adult who has come in - and I take the cigarette away. But he doesn't want it taken away. He likes it, I tell him. I can see the anger growing in his face.
I ask him how he feels, and he talks about how he hates his father or his uncle or a teacher. I become Billy or Mark again, and we smoke another.
Gradually I take him through the years over a period of five or six cigarettes. I relate the cigarettes to all the good times in his life, all the times when he feels masculine, when he feels rebellious, when he feels free. When I take it away from him I relate it to the all the negative feelings he has about his parents, about school, about religion.
Often I tell him that he is at a party, and he is out of cigarettes. He goes around asking people for cigarettes, but they all tell him no. "He is too young to smoke. It is bad for him." The more they say no, the more he wants one and gets angry with them. He vows never to be without cigarettes again.
I tell him that in a few minutes he will wake up but that he hasn't had a cigarette in a few days because he couldn't afford any. He will see a pack of cigarettes on the dresser, and he will want one very badly. In fact, he will do anything for a cigarette. He has never wanted anything so badly in his whole life.
I probe a little to find out who was his best friend in the past, preferably looking for someone that he loved deeply.
Then I tell him he will ask for a cigarette when he awakes. When he smokes his next cigarette, I will become his very best friend and that every time he sees me he will recognize me as Bill or Justin or Thomas. He will enjoy smoking the cigarette very much and know that he will have to find a way to get his own cigarettes soon. He can't stand to be without his cigarettes.
I tell him that if anyone says anything to him about his smoking or being surprised that he has started, he will tune them out because they only want to destroy his fun and take away something he likes.
I give him a cue to be put under whenever I wish.
I count to three and he awakens. He is fixated on the Marlboro Lites on the table. He asks whether I smoke. I tell him I do. He explains that he could not afford any smokes and could he bum one. I tell him he certainly can.
He lights the cigarette and as I become Bill or Justin or Thomas I am suddenly loved as the friend from time past. We go out for coffee, and I give him my address since he wants to keep in touch. We make a dinner date for next week. He smokes three more of my cigarettes.
I watch him carefully as he talks of time past and remembrances. He places the cigarette between his lips and lights the match carefully. He places the match on the end of the Marlboro Lite and sucks in the first smoke. His cheeks draw in. He pulls the cigarette out and draws in the air as I taught him. I see a whiff of smoke outside his mouth suddenly drawn in. He holds it - very briefly, and out it comes through the nose and lips. He is doing very well.
I meet with him the next week and for the next few weeks after that until I get tired of him and want someone new. But over the weeks I watch him grow into an inveterate smoker under my tutelage. Each week I put him under and strengthen his smoking resolve. By the fifth week he smokes a pack of Marlboro Reds a day, is experimenting with stronger brands, is able to blow rings and inhales deeply and long.
His confidence has grown also.
Often, I have noticed, that because he is a smoker he begins to develop a new group of friends, causing his dress, hairstyle and walk to become different as well.
He always keeps in touch, even after I no longer care, because, of course, I am his best friend. There is one problem, though. It's hard to remember what my name is, until he gives me a clue.