Spyder's Web (hypno)

Spyder's Web (1)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The events in this story are true. I just changed the names to protect myself. I just want to warn people not to ask too much from strangers. I found out the hard way that you can end up with what you want - and a whole lot more. Spyder isn't his real name. I don't know what name he's using now. Just be careful. It could happen to you.

Chapter 1

<slave2be> You know what I want.

<@Spyder> Tell me again.

<slave2be> I've never been with a man, but I keep thinking about it.

<@Spyder> Don't we all.

<slave2be> But I'm married. I have kids. I could never do anything.

<@Spyder> So you want to be hypnotised.

<slave2be> Not to do anything bad. I don't want anyone to know.

<@Spyder> So what do you want?

<slave2be> I want you to hypnotise me. Let me...

<@Spyder> Surrender? Give in? Sleep with a guy? What?

<slave2be> Yeah, that. But I don't want anyone to know.

<@Spyder> It may not even work...

<slave2be> I want to try.

<@Spyder> Okay, I'll give you a number to call.

<slave2be> Thanks. Thanks a lot.

<@Spyder> :)

I don't know what I was thinking. At first, I figured I could just log on to a chat room and see what other guys thought about hypnosis. I didn't realise that everyone would be able to 'see' me. I was used to lurking in the newsgroups. But they all seemed so friendly, and some of them could really understand my problem. I wasn't gay. I didn't want to be gay. I just wanted to see what it felt like to be hypnotised - totally defenceless. I once saw an interview with a guy who had always been obsessed by people with amputated legs. He said it haunted him every day of his life. Then, one day, he took a gun and shot his leg off. Now he's happy, because he's no longer obsessed. I realised I might need to do something drastic as well. I needed to stop thinking about it.

Spyder was great. He was friendly right away, and he knew everyone by name. Everyone seemed to trust him, and he was always there when I logged on. I found myself telling him more and more of my problems, and he helped reassure me that it would be all right. At the time I didn't really know how much information he had on me, or the other men he had 'controlled' over the years. He was always just open and friendly. So, when he gave me the number to call, I decided to do it, get it over with.

I was in one state, he was in another. I could always hang up the phone. I was as much in control as he was. I waited until my wife and kids were away overnight at her mother's, and I sat down to make the call. There was a series of clicks and beeps as I was connected, and then a deep, resonant voice answered.

"Spyder? This is slave2be. You gave me the number?"

"Good. You called. Just hang on a minute while I get set up."

I was as nervous as anything, and I was tempted to put the phone down and just forget the whole thing. Then he came back on, and he was so easy to talk to, I just poured it all out. Then he started making soothing comments, and I just lost track of what I was saying. It was so easy to just close my eyes and listen to his deep voice. That's when I blacked out. When I came to, the phone was back on the hook, and it was over an hour later. I don't know. I felt upset that 'that was all'. I felt glad nothing bad had happened. I was disappointed that I didn't remember anything, but I felt a lot of my obsessive tension was gone. But really, I felt empty.

I just wandered around the house, picking at things. I tried watching TV and just got restless. I flipped through some magazines but nothing seemed to catch my eye. I finally decided to go online and talk to Spyder about it. I wanted it to be more. I wanted to know what happened.

<slave2be> Spyder, what happened? Don't remember a thing.

<@Spyder> Nothing?

<slave2be> No. Didn't it work? Shouldn't I feel something?

<@Spyder> You are feeling something.

<slave2be> ?

<@Spyder>Where is your hand, slave?

I looked at my hands, thinking they were at the keyboard, but they weren't. I looked down and realised that I was stroking my cock! I couldn't even remember getting undressed, and for a terrible minute I panicked when I thought my wife could come back early and catch me like this. I tried to stop. I tried willing my hands to move, but nothing happened. My dick was solid, but in some way it was numb as well. I knew it was erect, I could see it was erect, but I couldn't really feel it. But my hands kept up their gentle stroking. Finally, I looked back up at the screen.

<@Spyder> I see you're enjoying yourself.

<@Spyder> Maybe you should share it around? :)

I was scared. Okay, it was my fantasy, but there was a big difference between the thinking and the doing. But like the guy who shot off his leg, I think I only realised how dangerous it was after I'd done it. I wanted to beg him to let me stop, but I couldn't move my hands to the keyboard.

<@Spyder> Talk to me, my slave. And with that, I found that my right hand could move, and I started pecking out desperate message.

<slave2be> Please. Make me stop!

<TanMan> What are you up to Spyder?

<@Spyder> You don't want to know, TanMan.

<@Spyder> It's okay, slave.

<@Spyder> You will eventually stop.

<@Spyder> But you're probably getting a bit sore.

<@Spyder> You'll need a good lubricant, I think.

<slave2be> Please, leave me alone.

<@Spyder> How about some mayonnaise? That might be a nice way to end the evening.

<slave2be> What are you doing?

<@Spyder> Goodnight, slave. See you tomorrow.

I couldn't stop myself as I automatically logged off and turned off the computer. I wanted to talk to him some more, but it seems he had implanted some post hypnotic suggestions I couldn't counteract. As soon as the light on the monitor went out, my cock went from numb to painful. It felt as sore as hell, and yet I couldn't stop rubbing it. I tried dribbling some spittle on my hands, but it did nothing to soothe the ache. Then I remembered what he had said. I went to the fridge, and luckily there was some mayonnaise. I think it must have gone off, as it was pushed to the back of the shelf and must have been there for months. But by now the ache was unbearable. I felt my whole dick was on fire, and the stroking only made it worse. I poured some of the mayo on my shaft, and the relief was enormous. In the end I had the whole jar dumped in my crotch, and my pubic hair was all matted with the stuff. But it was the best hand job I had ever had. I'm not kidding. Whatever Spyder had done made my cock feel like it was hyper-sensitive, and as I rubbed the gooey mess all over, it was the best feeling in the world. I stopped thinking about cumming, as the pleasure of my fingers and hands rubbing up and down sent me into a world of bliss.

I finally did come, though, with my own jism mixing with the mayo. That was when I found out the stuff wasn't quite off, as I had the uncontrollable desire to lick it all up - cum and all. I scraped off the sweaty mixture with my fingers and then licked them clean. I even tried bending double in order to use my tongue, but I just wasn't flexible enough. After I got most of it off, though, the desire relaxed, and I was able to go into the bathroom and clean myself up in a more conventional way.

By the time I got into bed, I felt exhausted. I had gotten my wish, but it was more than I expected. Yes, it was great sex, but I wasn't really as comfortable being controlled by someone else as I thought. But at least I felt more relaxed than I could remember. And it was all over, with my family none the wiser. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought that Spyder had done me a favour, and now there was no longer any need for me to be hypnotised. I thought this little episode would finish my association with Spyder, and now my life could get back on track. Boy, was I wrong!

Chapter 2

It was a week before I made another call. Believe me, I didn't want to. I tried everything to keep away from the phone. But just when I thought I had managed to overcome any of his post-hypnotic suggestions, I found myself dialling Spyder's number with an overwhelming need to hear his voice.

"I hope my little slave to be enjoyed his meal the other night?"

"Please, Spyder, I've had enough. I've changed my mind. Can't we just leave it there?"

"Don't worry. By the time we're finished, you'll be begging for more. Now, it's time to go bye-byes."

And that's the last thing I remember. I checked the clock and knew I must have been under for an hour or more, but my mind was a blank. I was just relieved my wife hadn't come in and seen me.

I checked myself over to see whether all my clothes were in place. And to see how my 'equipment' felt. Everything seemed to be in order. But then again, Spyder could have told me not to notice if something was different. My mind was full of images of me walking through the house completely naked but hypnotically convinced I was fully clothed. I was starting to regret I had ever started this.

My wife was concerned as we were getting into bed. She thought I seemed a bit strange - a bit nervous. I tried to tell her it was just some hassle at work, but I don't know if she believed me.

She tried to soothe me by rubbing my shoulders, and pretty soon we had moved on to something more serious. I had never had much trouble making love to a woman. Although the idea of surrender to a man was a big fetish, while I was with a woman, it didn't seem to matter much. Most of the fantasies came when I was jacking off by myself.

I felt myself surging inside her as she lay back moaning, and suddenly I was screaming out 'Spyder! Spyder!' as I exploded into her. She immediately started panicking, looking around for the bug, while I almost shit myself with embarrassment. She convinced me to look for the creepy crawly, while I convinced her I had found it and was putting it outside. As soon as I got to the kitchen, I almost fainted with relief. I maybe could have explained away calling my wife by another woman's name, but what if I had yelled out 'Fuck me, Mike' or 'Do it to me, Dutch' or something? This was getting out of hand.

The next morning I was feeling better, and thought if that was all Spyder had done, then I was glad it was over. I got dressed and ready for work. I didn't notice at the time, but as I was taking my after breakfast piss, I stuffed a large wad of toilet paper into my jocks. I mean, I knew I was doing it, and later on, I remembered doing it, but at the time I just didn't pay any attention.

I got into the car and headed for the office. It wasn't until the first red light that I noticed something was wrong. As I sat there, staring at the bright red glow, I had an overwhelming desire to come. I could feel my cock jump up and press against the wadded paper, and my hand rubbed my crotch vigorously. I was almost ready to come, when the lights changed, and the green made my cock go flaccid.

Do you know how many red lights there are between my home and my office? Fourteen! I had never counted before, but now I know them all intimately. At one point, I got stuck in a long line of traffic, but I could still see the light way up ahead. As we inched our way forward, I would rub myself to almost bursting, just to have the lights change and the orgasm fade.

But I did come. Three out of the fourteen lights. I just hoped there was enough paper down there so the stain wouldn't show. I had never felt so out of control in my entire life.

By the time I did get to the office, I was really on edge. I wanted to call Spyder and beg him to take it away, but for the life of me I couldn't remember the number. He obviously didn't want me to call except on his terms. The rest of the day passed without much incident. Except for the little red light on the intercom. And on the coffee machine. And on the elevator. And on the modem in my office. Yep, it was a day I won't soon forget.

On the way home, I thought it would be best to take the train. I could tell my wife the car broke down or something. But I had already replaced my soggy tissues four times, and didn't want to risk coming home with cum dribbling down my legs. That's when Spyder's next surprise hit me.

I was just standing there on the platform waiting for the train, when this guy in a business suit walked past me. There was nothing special about him, except that his tie was bright red. It tripped some circuit Spyder had put in my head, and I was instantly in love. You know how when you had your first crush you were so besotted that you thought of nothing else but the object of your desire? That's how I felt.

Like I had never been in love before. Like I had never seen a man so handsome, so desirable, so fantastic. I forgot about my wife. I forgot about Spyder. I just needed to see more of this man.

I followed him onto his train, and barely noticed where it was going. I arranged myself so I could get an unobstructed view of his every move.

I loved the way he read his paper. I loved the way his bald head gleamed. I even loved the way he picked his nose. I was so totally focused on him, I am sure other people in the train noticed and thought I was some gay pervert. I didn't care. My cocked throbbed for him. I fantasised about what he looked like naked, and came again into my tissues.

He got off the train and I followed. He walked down the street and like some B-grade detective I followed in his footsteps. It wasn't until he went inside the front door of his house that the spell broke.

I went from euphoria to depression in one quick step. From the man of my dreams he became just an ugly suit. From the love of my life to someone I would normally avoid. Spyder had gotten into my head, and there was no telling what he had fucked with.

I just stood there for about twenty minutes, just thinking nothing. Then I hailed a taxi and went home.

I think what scared me the most is the fact that someone out there could make me feel so good. Someone had complete control of my emotions and my cock and my life. And somewhere deep down, I was really turned on by that. Shit!

Chapter 3

I was sitting in my office, trying to pretend that the incident with Spyder had never happened. It had been a month since my last contact with him or the chat channel, so I felt that it was all really over.

I don't know if that made me happy or not. I loved the fact that a man could so easily manipulate me and my reality. On the other hand, I couldn't think of anything more scary. During the day at work, I was fine. I kept occupied and involved myself in the day to day running of my department. But sometimes, late at night, ...

The phone rang and I absently picked it up.

"Guess who, my slave-to-be."

"Hell, how did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me, remember? Oh, that's right, you probably don't remember a lot of what happened last time we talked, do you?"

"What do you want?"

"Just to remind you of what Freud once said. I'll talk to you later." And then the line went dead.

I had no idea of what he was talking about, but part of me was excited by the fact that I was not forgotten. I think in the back of my mind I was more afraid of being ignored by the maniac because I wasn't worth the trouble, than afraid of the maniac himself. I debated about whether or not to go onto the internet that night, when I realised there was something wrong with the pen I was chewing.

I looked down to discover that the pen had been replaced by a long thin phallus. I looked closely at the pink rod, and it occurred to me that this was another of Spyder's unfunny jokes. Okay, I did for a minute think someone had snuck into my office while I was on the phone and surreptitiously replaced the pen in my hand with a mini-dildo. But it made much more sense to put it down to Spyder and his hypnotically induced hallucinations.

I toyed with the fake dick for a bit, and it still wrote perfectly. But it was hard to concentrate when you're holding a strange penis in your hand, so I decided to take a break and grab some coffee. I was even a little amused by Spyder's idea of a joke.

That is, until I got outside into the corridor.

I don't suppose you have ever stopped to think how many objects in your everyday world could possibly be interpreted as 'phallic'. Not just the old gun and cannon sort of comparison. Anything remotely cylindrical, long and capped. From what I could figure out, Spyder had convinced my subconscious that every conceivable phallic shaped object was in fact a penis. That's what I saw.

Every man no longer wore a tie, but had multicoloured dicks suspended from their necks. Every pen and pencil became a dwarf dildo. Lamps, chair legs, table legs, typewriter carriages, cigarettes, light posts, tall buildings. My mind even converted cars into phallic symbols, so every vehicle with a male driver suddenly became an oversized and mobile cock.

I suppose it was funny, but it made it impossible for me to concentrate on anything. I almost crashed the car when I looked over and saw a policeman gently stroking his baton in broad daylight. I stopped in peak hour traffic and looked at the car next to me. Not only was this guy driving a racing green dick, but he was smoking another cock and held a mobile one up to his ear. When he placed his hand over the gearshift to start moving, I almost wished I still had tissue stuffed down my pants.

The worst part was getting home and finding my wife cutting up vegetables for dinner. Each carrot, marrow and stalk of celery was summarily castrated before my eyes, and she had no idea why I was cringing as she detailed her busy day.

By the time I logged on that night, I was almost sick of the sight of man meat.

It took a while before Spyder logged on, and I immediately grabbed him for a private chat.

<slave2be>What the fuck are you doing to my head?

<Spyder> What? I thought you would like seeing all that naked flesh. *g*

<slave2be> Please stop doing this to me. I don't want to anymore.

<Spyder> You want it. You need it.

<Spyder> But I'll make a deal with you. You type in 'Please Stop' once more, and I'll leave you alone.

<Spyder> Forever. Think about it. There is no second chance.

This was it.

What the hell did I do now? I didn't want this anymore. But, on the other hand, Spyder had made my life a lot more interesting. I was the one who had started it all, now I was backing out. It was just that it was all too much.

Okay, I wanted it, but I didn't want it. It was like cheating on my wife. It was just a fantasy, an obsession.

So I would end it. I started typing 'Please ...' when my wife stuck her head in the door and asked if I wanted coffee.

I don't really believe in fate, but at that moment my destiny was sealed. She startled me, I pressed 'enter' and flying across the internet went the one word. Please. Not Please Stop. Just Please.

And before I could send the other word, the most important word off into the web, my wife came over and asked what I was doing, and I had to close the program before she could see. Spyder had had my answer. Please. And now I knew he was going to take me literally, and no amount of begging was going to get him to change his mind.

The phone rang and my wife answered it as she went to the kitchen.

"It's some man for you, dear. He says his name is Webb."

"Thanks darling. I'll take it in here."

"Okay, I'll get your coffee."

I resignedly picked up the phone to be greeted by Spyder's deep voice.

"I'm glad you accepted my services. I have big plans for you - big plans."

He outlined a fictitious workshop I was to attend to get away for a weekend. I was to fly to a neighbouring large city, where I would be met by another of Spyder's clients. There we would both receive our further orders.

Besides being a lot like a bad episode of Mission: Impossible, I knew I would do it. It was no longer hypnosis as such, more like accepting the inevitable. I would fly to this place. I would meet this other guy. I would let Spyder hypnotise me and do whatever he wanted with me.

And I would love every minute of it. That was the problem.

"Here's your coffee, dear. That was a quick call."

"Just someone telling me about a conference I have to attend. You don't mind, do you honey, if I go away for a few days?"

"Of course not. You go and do whatever it is you have to do. I'm sure we can survive."

But would I?

CAPTCHA