"Tch. Fine. If you wanna keep playing, be my guest, old man. Just don't expect me to clap n' cheer."

Whether one stayed on the beaten path or not, the forest was an unsafe place when night fell. A demon lurked amidst the trees, unseen thanks to a coat of fur darker than night.
The Black Hound had once been mortal, more than a hundred years ago. He was a headstrong young man who fancied himself a great athlete, one who would fly into a sulking rage if anyone even came close to beating him in a contest of speed, strength, what have you.
Once day he disappeared from his home village, having stolen a grimoire from the he-crone at the edge of town, and never returned.
He was soon seen stalking the woods in a new form. His once long floppy ears were docked to sharp horn-like protuberances. His eyes were now burning yellow, and his body curved into slender, toned physique that looked as if it had been chiselled out of obsidian.
He stalked the woods, frightening all who passed by and chasing them, merely for sport (and to steal their belongings for a snack.)
Well… almost all. The Black Hound had a challenging able bodied young men to races and contests… and upon soundly thrashing them, would claim his prize from them - oftentimes taking the young mortal's virginity, but always leaving them with his scent in their nostrils and a newly awakened desire to lie with men.
The Black Hound's long life of immortality had not tempered his youthful temperament, as if his mind had been frozen in time, yet to be fully developed.
What need had he of being careful or clever? As a demon, he was practically indestructible, free to run and race and climb and lift to keep himself at the pinnacle of form.
The Black Hound hung upside down, his legs wrapped around a thick tree branch. He pulled himself up merely with the sheer strength of his core, hot breath shooting from his pursed lips as he breathed into the stretch.
His constant exercise gave his coat a glistening sheen.
He had yet to take up his post near the edge of the forest path, to scout for new challengers to trounce. At present, he was deeper in the darkness, warming himself up.
His den was secluded, surrounded by obstacles of all sorts - tall heavy rocks, and thick dense thorns kept him undisturbed, until he was ready to disturb others.

Hunters had come for him in the past. All of them met with a swift defeat, followed by an intense, eye-opening tryst.
The Black Dog fancied himself an alpha, the pinnacle of physique, and had yet to be proven wrong.
"Fifty… Fifty-One… Fifty-Two…"
His counting was sharp, un-voiced, timed to his out-breaths. His pace had not slowed. He was only at the start of his exercises - he wouldn't start to tire until he reached a hundred repetitions.
The Black Hound's sensitive, well-tuned ears pricked up, and he stopped mid-crunch. With one fluid motion, he leapt down and landed, catlike, on the forest floor.
"Who's there?" he said, his tone almost friendly in its casual-ness.
No response. But he could feel a presence. He could feel eyes on him. Or a hunch that someone had come to seek him out, and had pierced the perimeter of his haven.

"Heh… if you're trying to get the jump on me you're doin' a really bad job!"
There was no response. The Black Hound licked his chops, and continued to listen. He sniffed at the air. His nose was so well attuned to the scent of blood, a tiny droplet from a pricked ankle would be more than enough to allow him to zero in - it was why he kept a dense thicket of thorns around his home, a deterrent for hunters and a trap for prey in one.
He wasn't picking up any scents on the air, though.
"Was it my imagination…?" he asked, aloud. The Black Hound was not one for keeping an internal monologue. "I guess it's been a while since someone tried to come after me…"
He heard a soft whoosh. Wind pushing through a tight space, creating a soft, drawn out note.
"Huh… the wind?" the Black Hound tilted his head to the side, his tail swishing curiously. He seemed, for an instant, more like a confused pup than a frightening hound. "I don't feel a breeze…"
As the Black Hound listened, he heard the sound again. He couldn't hear the beginning or the end of it… it faded in, then out again…

Breath through firm, hollow reeds made a sweet melody, polyphonically comforting.
There was a melody. A simple one that climbed up and down a scale, the sort of melody you'd teach to a novice, or lull a child to sleep.
The Black Hound hummed, his throat unconsciously joining in with the melody.
He felt the thorns fail to pierce through his wiry fur and sturdy skin…
"What the hell…?" he murmured. "What am I doing out here-?"
He looked up, and immediately bared his teeth and claws.

On a rock, some distance away, sat a light-grey wolf. If one were to look from the demon to the wolf, one would think the wolf was the older of the pair. Glasses were perched upon the stranger's snout, before his pale blue eyes. In his paws, he held a pan-flute made of glistening copper pipes. He had a kind, professorial, sort of look, and was dressed in the simple robes of a travelling scholar.
He was unassuming. Too unassuming. The Black Hound's hackles were raised. He smelled a Hunter.
Their eyes met. The wolf smiled. The Black Hound returned the smile, though his was far more vicious and threatening.

"You lost, old man?" the Black Hound said.
"I don't think so," the wolf said, cheerfully. "I was just looking for a place to practice."
"Practice?"
The wolf gestured to the pipes in his paws. "I'm something of an amateur, and I'd rather not embarrass myself in front of my colleagues before I'm good enough."
The Black Hound couldn't smell any magic off of the strange wolf, nor could he see any weaponry. Just those pipes.
"Heh. well, looks like you ain't alone after all. If you don't wanna have an audience, then beat it and play that racket somewhere else!"
"Hmhm." The wolf smiled. "What if I don't mind having an audience right now?"
"…huh?"
"You're a stranger, so I don't have any need to impress you. And you don't seem too bothered by my playing, otherwise you'd have lunged at me by now."
Come to think of it, calling the wolf's playing a racket was a bit harsh. The notes were clear, it didn't sound off key… and he hadn't heard tones quite like the copper
"Tch. Fine. If you wanna keep playing, be my guest, old man. Just don't expect me to clap n' cheer."
"I don't expect that at all," the wolf replied, bringing the pipes to his snout again, and pursing his lips.

As he blew, the pipe trilled, the low, resonant whistle filling the air once again.
The Black Hound was about to turn and return to his grove, but the sound made him pause. He felt a strange little flutter in his head, one that made his fur puff out and his body stiffen.
"Huh… that's a nice song," he mused aloud. He turned. His tail was wagging, slowly. "Where'd you learn it?"
He realised the wolf couldn't answer; his mouth was occupied. But as the pipes slowly moved beneath the wolf's blowing lips, the Black Hound found himself leaning in… listening closely.
Eventually, the Black Hound sat down, cross-legged, and leaned forward to watch. He still towered over the wolf, but his ears flattened and his tail thumped gently on the forest floor.

After a time, the wolf lowered the pipes, and reached into his robes.
"I'll just be taking a short break," he explained. "My breath control still needs some work."
The Black hound's eyes narrowed.
"What ya got up your sleeve?"
Rather than a weapon, the wolf drew out a small round-headed mallet, wrapped in something soft and black.
"Just a mallet for the pipes."
"A mallet? What the hell d'ya need that for-"
He struck the longest pipe. The sound, even though it was dampened by the woolly coating, was sharp, startling, and the Black Hound felt his muscles seize up in surprise.
They remained tense. The black fur bristled.
"Wh-what the…"

"This flute is enchanted," the wolf explained, kindly. "It's used for binding rituals. The mallet has been wrapped in your hair, which I took the liberty of collecting over the summer months."
"Wh-what the hell?!" the Black Hound blanched. "You've been stalkin' me?"
"It's not as though you had any use for that shed fur," the wolf laughed.
"Rrgh… you're startin' to piss me off…!"
The Black Hound tensed his legs, reared back, and….
Remained exactly where he was.
The wolf struck the next pipe down, adding to the resonance of the first. The Black Hound quivered.
"Damnit… I c-can't… move…"

"Now that the pipes have been warmed by my breath," the wolf continued. "Each strike…"
Another strike. The Black Hound shivered again, his body stooping lower.
"Of this wand…"
Another strike. The Black Hound's head swam, and his eyes drooped.
"Binds you, just a little more, to my will. My breath…"
Another strike. The Black Hound was leaning forward. A sleepy daze was settling over him.
"Joins with the resonance, and settles inside your mind. Binding your thoughts, and your soul, to me, Black Hound."
"Ghhk… y-you…!" The Black Hound shook his head and tried to snarl, his paws digging into the ground. He tried to make himself bigger, to tense his muscles, to steel himself and fight through the charm, but…
Another strike. Each chime higher than the last, joining with the others, each new tone a blanket that draped over the demon's heavier, sleepier mind…
"C…can't… think…"
"Doesn't the resonance sound nicer with each new tone I add??" the wolf prompted gently. "Each new sound fills in a gap, a bit of empty space… it's very satisfying. When I've rung each and every bell… the spell will be complete. And it'll feel so very good when that happens…"
"Gh… l-like hell I'm g…guh… gonna…" the Black Dog groaned. His whole body was shaking with the resonance, and it felt… incredible. As incredible as a long run or an intense workout, or a victory against a mortal… or maybe even better…!

"On the third-to-last chime..." the wolf continued, "you'll come to attention."
He struck the third-smallest pipe.
Its resonance made the Black Hound's spine straighten, his haunches collapsing to the ground, his front arms pressed into the dirt.
"Gh… b-bastard… I'm n-not some trained dog…!" he said, his voice breaking pathetically…
"Oh, but you are," the wolf said kindly. "On the second-to-last chime, you'll come to me."
Upon the next chime, the Black Hound yelped comically, his body surging forward at pace. He cleared the distance in less than a second, and stopped right at the wolf's bare feet. Then, he pitched to the side and rolled onto his back, tail thump-thump-thumping faster…
The Black Hound felt the urge to let his tongue hang out. He obeyed it. Going along with it felt… strangely right…
"And on the final chime… you'll become my pup."

"Wh-what the hhhell…?" the Black Hound whimpered, even as he wriggled like a puppy dog, even as his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth, even as his eyes glowed and fluttered, and his tail whack-whack-whacked against the ground… "N…Not gonna… g-give in to th-the likes of you…"
"It's okay. You don't need to use that bravado anymore."
Even now, in his moment of triumph, there wasn't a hint of anything but gentle kindness in the wolf's voice.

The last chime was struck. 
It was a satisfying, shattering sound. Like the cracking of a sheet of ice on a warming lake. 
The Black Hound's anger and frustration… evaporated.
The spell completed, and the Black Hound's eyes flashed… before dulling, their once fiery yellow changed to a dull, golden colour.
"There you are, pup…" The wolf reached down, his soft palm cradling the side of the black-furred creature's head.
"Hah… hah…" the Pup panted, giving a docile smile up at his new Master.
"You have a very pretty smile, underneath that bravado," Master said. "You really must have been unhappy out here. All alone, with no companionship..."
"Rrrf…" the Pup whimpered contentedly, knowing that that life was behind him. He wriggled into the ground, his tail wagging so fast it was spinning like a windmill.
"Well, you've found your purpose now," the wolf continued. "I'm sure I'll be able to keep you once the I've claimed the bounty… and you can remain by my side. A loyal companion and protector as I continue my research…"
The mallet slipped back into his robes, and he sat up to bring the pipe to his lips again. "But we're in no hurry. I think I could stand to practice a little more before we set off."
As Master played, his feet stroked along the Pup's warm, soft, firm belly. The music, and the stroking, lulled the Pup into a nice, deep, happy sleep. The first of many happy sleeps at his Master's feet.
The Black Hound was not seen in the forest again. That legend faded… and a new one spread. Stories of a travelling scholar with a kind, gentle affect… and an enormous bestial dog-demon who acted like a perfectly docile, loyal puppy. 

 "Wow, that must feel crazy… or it must feel like nothing at all~"

"A cutie like you? There's no way you're leaving this place alone." Pyrite's wide, white, wolfish grin made Blake giggle. "It'd be a tragedy if you didn't leave with some arm candy… or as someone else's."
"Heh, th-thank you…" Blake said. The green-furred collie wasn't some nervous, quivering little waif. They didn't just shut down the moment someone started flirting with them. Even if it was a sharply dressed Umbreon with kintsugi-gold markings under his left eye, who, for all Blake knew, had a PhD in seduction.

"I'm actually heading to a kink party a bit later on," Blake continued, "So it's not like I'm going home too soon…"
"Oh, a late night one?" Pyrite leant his elbow on the table, eyebrows raising behind his round, burgundy tinted glasses. "Is it GigaMax's one? The dusk-till-dawn party?"
"That's it," Blake said. "You know it?"
"Oh yeah. Lotta fun kinksters go there." Pyrite took one last swig of his whiskey and soda, setting it down. "What's the theme tonight?"
"Hypnokink." Blake's smile got a little wider. "It's my first time going, but I've made some plans with friends there."
"So," Pyrite asked, tracing his finger along the rim of his empty glass coquettishly. "Do you do the hypnotizing or are you the one getting hypnotized?"
"Bit of both… but I'm gonna focus on being a 'tist tonight."
Pyrite leaned forward, his snout turning downwards just a little as his eyes cast upwards towards Blake.
"And how good of a tist are you? Think you could get me in a loud, crowded place like this?"
Ohhh… Blake could see where this was going. Part of them was hoping Pyrite would push things down this route… Blake could could tell this Umbreon would look cute as hell zonked. And now they'd been given carte blanche.
"I could try…" Blake replied. "And if you try with me, I bet we can succeed."
"Sounds good to me. Where do you want me~?"
Blake had a sneaking suspicion that this wasn't Pyrite's first time. That or it was an 'interest' that was going to become a full-blown kink when they were finished with him.
"Get comfy right where you are," Blake said. "Lemme just… move in close. Can you put your paw on the table, palm facing up? I'm going to put my claw on it."
"Mhm." Pyrite wiggled in his seat slightly, seeming to be getting a little excited.
"Just breathe. And relax. I'm going to write something on your palm, and I want you to see if you can figure out what I'm writing. I'll spell it letter-by-letter."
With that, Blake began. "Just focus on each letter. Feel how sensitive your palm is? How my claw sort of tickles? How that single sharp point is activating a tight little cluster of nerves?"
Blake started with a few simple words, to practice. 'Cat'. 'Window.' 'Apple'. When they checked in, Pyrite answered correctly, and received a little bit of praise for it.
But after a certain point, Blake stopped tracing actual words. Their claw motions became slower swoops, stopping at random points. They could see Pyrite's brow knitting with focus, but his head was also dipping lower.

"I know you're tempted to use your eyes to follow my claw, but just listen to your nerves. Let your sense of touch guide you. Keep trying. It's hard, but it's worthwhile. Though… maybe it'll be easier if we were to switch to a number, like… 9?"
"Nine…" Pyrite repeated.
"Eight." Blake traced the figure on Pyrite's palm, and the Umbreon nodded.
"Seven." Pyrite's head dipped lower.
"Six, keep your head up for me." Pyrite's head very slowly lifted, his jaw lagging behind the rest. His eyelids opened a little.
"Five." A smaller nod. His eyes opened a little, revealing two slits of white behind the dark red glasses.
"And four." Blake's fingers slid beneath Pyrite's chin to close his mouth.

"And three…" This as a little higher than the nod on 4, but lower than the nod on 5.
"Two…"
Pyrite dipped even lower, his snout brushing against Blake's up-turned fingers. Blake guided the Umbreon's heavy skull back up. His head didn't get very far.
"And… one. Sleep."

Pyrite made the first sound he'd made in about 5 minutes. A soft 'ungh.' His eyes rolled up as his head sagged down, the signs of his deepening trance quite profoundly evident.
"And do you notice how your body feels a little more numb? Your senses are quieting down. Your thoughts have already slowed to a crawl, and your brain's slowing down just the same. And that's good. That's what we want, isn't it?"
"Uhhhuh." Pyrite's grunt almost sounded begrudging. Was there a part of him that was aware of how thoroughly he'd been outwitted? Was he seething?
Or was he hornier than he'd ever been in his life?
Blake had a sneaking suspicion. The collie grinned, admiring their handiwork, as they moved in close to the Umbreon's ear. They didn't want to raise their voice over the music. Plus, they knew at that close range, their voice would make their hypnotee shiver.

"And… oh, interesting… it seems like, as your brain slows down, your senses weaken… your brain's too slow, it doesn't have the bandwidth to access and process the things your nose is taking in, or your eyes, or even your ears…"
"Nnn…"
"Perhaps your ears are working just enough so that you can hear my voice, but only my voice. Your brain doesn't have the space to process anything else… like someone hit mute on the outside world. No music. No sounds of other people. Just me. Hey, what's that song?"
Blake shimmied a little closer next to Pyrite as the Umbreon's slack face twitched, vainly attempting to focus.
"Wah….sssonk…?" Pyrite groaned.
"That's right, your brain's so sluggish that forming words is so difficult too, so why don't you just relax and stop trying… enjoy this feeling of quiet, of sluggish calm, of your awareness falling away… open your eyes, can you see anything? Or is your brain not receiving the signals from your eyes, so you might as well be sleeping with your eyes open…"

It must have took an agonising amount of effort for Pyrite to open his eyes.
"Nngh… sssee smears," he croaked. "Li'l colour."
"Let's switch that off." Blake said, snapping their fingers in Pyrite's other ear. "How about now?"
"Nn…"
Blake brought their paw in front of Pyrite's face, their index finger-claw pointed towards Pyrite's nose.
"Can you follow my finger?" Blake asked, watching the Umbreon's unfocused, dilated eyes. They didn't even move.
"Agn." Pyrite gurgled. Just to test… Blake moved their finger to Pyrite's left, then right… then waved their paw. No reaction, no eye movements
"How many fingers am I holding up?" Blake asked.
Pyrite blinked, very, very slowly.
"Mmmfffsix?"
Blake laughed with delight, their tail wagging like crazy behind them. They nestled in closer, their knees up on the cushioned seat of the booth so they could lean right in.
"Gooood boy~!"

"The signals from your eyes can't reach your brain, your thoughts no longer reaching your throat to give them voice… and in just a moment, a little moment, I'll tug on your right ear. And when I do that, every single remaining sense will switch off. You won't be able to experience a thing without me, and you won't even feel any sensations until I tell you to feel them. Sounds fun, right~?"
"Uhum." Pyrite nodded, though his face didn't even so much as twitch.
"I'm gonna assume that was a yes," Blake snickered. "Are you ready? Ready to experience what complete blankness feels like, what being completely disconnected from yourself is like…?"
"Uhum." Okay, definitely a yes.
"Three…. tw-" Blake pulled on Pyrite's ear. "DROP."
Pyrite twitched, his eyelids fluttered and his eyes rolled upwards to meet them. Otherwise, he was completely, and utterly still.
"Good. That's it. That's right. My voice still comes in, the only thing you can percieve, the one anchor you have… and if I wasn't speaking, what might happen inside that mind…?"

Blake held that thought, and watched Pyrite very closely. Not a hint of movement, aside from the bare essentials. Slow breaths. Little eye-movements.
"Nothing." Blake said, quietly, smugly triumphant. They simply watched the sleepy, hypnotised boy for a time. It came so naturally to him. Blake was honestly a little impressed - both with him, and themself.
…Oh damn, the music was getting louder. Blake had barely noticed it themself, so hyperfixated on trancing this formerly-suave boy.
Blake looked down at the table, where Pyrite's paw had remained this whole time.
They traced a little O shape.
"Feel that?"
"N."
Blake grinned, taking hold of one of the fingers and pinching it. Hard.
"And that?"
"N."
And what about…"
Blake was feeling bold. They pulled their head back a bit, and put their teeth around Pyrite's ear, worrying it gently.
"N."
"Nothing at all!" Blake said. "Wow, that must feel crazy… or it must feel like nothing at all."
They sat back for a moment, observing their handiwork. Their eyes returned to Pyrite's palm.
"I wonder if we could re-activate just a little cluster of nerves on your palm… concentrate every sensation, every feeling into that tiny little plot…. what if a little tug-"
Blake tugged on Pyrite's left ear.
"-on your left ear activated it, and then I…"
Blake's claw began to rub and tickle. Pyrite gasped and twitched, his head thrown back, his breaths suddenly becoming sharper, more laboured.
"Hhhh, hhhah, ahhhhgh…"
"Yeaaah~" Blake cooed. "My scritchy doggy claw, on that tiny surface of skin, is giving you more pleasure than you expected, isn't it…~?"
"Ghng…" Pyrite croaked. His fingers were twitching, but his paw remained completely still on the table.
"Thaaat's right. And if I pressed a little harder, how much harder might it hit you?"

Blake glanced cheekily under the table. Sure enough… Pyrite was throbbing in his slacks. It was lucky for him they were in a dark spot so no one could see that big blob of pre-cum staining it.
Blake pushed and twisted their claw in - firm, sharp, but not enough to break the skin.
It was enough to make Pyrite practically leap up out of his seat, his hips humping at the air, that bulge pulsing and quivering…
"That's a good boy," Blake giggled, their tail wagging as they nestled their wet nose against Pyrite's ear again. "Such a good boy…~ so good at following my commands and feeling what I want him to feel… I'm so lucky I found you…"
"Aghheh…" Pyrite's lips twitched in an abortive attempt at a smile, before another hard push into his palm dispelled that and turned it into another loud moan.
"There we go."

Blake pushed twice. Then twice again. Establishing a heart-beat rhythm.
"I wonder if you'd even notice if you came…" Blake mused. "Or would you be too focused on this little feeling on your palm, my fingers pushing and squishing and scritching… not even knowing till later. Did you know you're pre-ing in your pants?"
"N…n." Pyrite grunted.
"Good. Let's keep it that way… I think what I'll do, though, is I'll let you feel your legs so you can walk. and for that I just gotta-"
Blake tapped on Pyrite's nose twice.
"Boopboop! And there. You can feel your footpaws and your ankles and your legs… just so you can stay upright. But your palm's still the good bit, where all that pleasure you're feeling comes from. Hold my paw…"
"Mmg." Pyrite nodded sluggishly, still quivering and twitching now and again from the palm-to-palm touch. "Mmmnb…"
"So… I wasn't gonna head to Gigamax for a little longer, but I think my friends would love to meet you. Even if you won't be able to see 'em, or hear 'em… until I let you."
"Unmhn." That grunt sounded enough like an agreement. Blake guided Pyrite out of the booth, whispering to him the whole time. One paw holding his, the other resting on his shoulder. 
Blake idly wondered… someone might assume that they were just helping a friend who'd had too much to drink get home. 
Pyrite had no idea what sort of night was in store for him… and Blake was honestly tempted to keep it that way.

 "A mind brimming with knowledge, a prodigious intellect… best to nip this in the bud before he starts to think it rivals mine."

The darkness clings to you, wrapped around you like a tight sheet.
It's a familiar, comforting darkness.
It must be night-time.
You can just close your eyes and go back to sleep. You're fine. You can go back to sleep, little bird…
No, wait.
What's that voice in your head?
It's not your own, that's for damn sure…
It has the hallmarks of a magically synthesised voice - a slight tinny sound to it, like it's being spoken through a tube made of copper.
A simulacrum of your voice, an attempt to hijack your thoughts that… might have fooled someone else, maybe, but not you.
The darkness, though…
You don't know if it is day or night. Something's around your face, stopping any light from reaching your eyes.
You go to remove it, but - Blast. Your winged arms are pinned behind your back, held tight by a bond. Whatever hood is around your head has a little strap around the beak to keep yours closed. You can't cast a spell just through thought alone; you're not that good of a mage, even with all the study you've crammed into your head.
All the more reason to work towards that goal once you've gotten out of here…
If you can get out of-

Of course you can.
Stay calm. Focus. You can't see anything but darkness, you can't hear anything but the rush of blood and the beat of your heart… 
How did you get here? Think, Ten. Ignore the darkness before your eyes, and find the images inside your memory…
You were… in your private study. Yes. You had borrowed some books from the university library. You remember the must of old paper and glue, your feather-fingers carefully leafing through an old tome with time-yellowed pages.
Was there a knock at the door? 
Did someone else come into the room?
Your head isn't hurting, so you mustn't have been knocked unconscious… you feel comfortably sluggish. A sleep-spell, maybe…?
Yes, you do remember someone, something entering, but the memory only gets foggier the more you think. The vague, unreliable picture of your study blurs and melts, as does the approaching shape, and the dark thing in one hand… but not the glimmering gem in the other. A spellcasting focus… no, a pendulum, swaying, swinging, and you found yourself fixating on it… your quill twirling out from between your fingers and clattering onto the desk… your body shifting on the stool to face towards it… watching it get closer and closer until…

Not falling for that one.
Clearly they underestimate you if they think that you can be this easily manipulated..

But as the voice that's not your voice speaks, the darkness pushes inwards around your head. It's not a firm squeeze… in fact, it's quite gentle. The material is soft, squishy, like a downy mattress, and as it pushes in, you feel this warmth pushing through your golden down, into your head. It starts at the crown and moves down, its little pinpricks of movement gently pushing into the back of your neck. The massage ripples back up to the top of your head and traces little circles. Like dozens of small fingers gently working your scalp.
It is… kind of soothing.

Your already slow heartbeat is getting slower. You feel comfortable. The bonds feel far less constraining when you relax into them. When you allow yourself to be constrained.
Isn't this nicer? Isn't this easier? Just relax and let it happen, let the night come… it must be night-time, so why don't you go back to sleep. You must be-

No. Quiet that thought. Ignore it. Focus on your heartbeat, your bloodflow, and your breathing. Focus on the bonds constraining you and caressing you… the restraints feel sort of gentle, and you can feel them moving against your wrists, warm and soft just like the hood hugging your head… more little fingers kneading and rubbing and finding all those knots you didn't even know you had…

Ghhh. Whoever enchanted these restraints knows what they're doing…
They squeeze tighter in response to your attempts to move, stronger than a finger trap.

You don't know how far your hearing can carry, stymied as it is by the hood, and distracted as you are by that repetitive, gentle massage... But you can hear the sound of a distant door creaking. Footfalls. Quiet voices.
You feel warm presences around you too, someone invading your personal space…

A finger prods into the back of your neck, and you instantly freeze up. 

"I believe he is awake now, yes…"
It pinches the back of your neck and slides downwards just enough to find your shoulder muscles… before digging in to those hard, tense muscles and…. nngnh, fuck that's good…
The voices only barely penetrate through the hood's thick material, and you really have to strain just to follow the conversation, especially when your awareness is concentrating on the massaging hood and the kneading fingers…

"He hasn't managed to escape, I see."
"I'd like to see him try, Arch-Lecturer. Those bonds won't break unless I break the spell."
An older voice, low and sonorous, comes from just behind you. Claws gently stroke along your chin and throat.

"Such a pretty little cockatiel. Far much prettier without that back-talk of his. Ten didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
Another voice. Lighter, more nervous.
"No, Arch-Lecturer."
"Mm… yes." You feel talons sliding along the back of your head. The hood hugs too, as if in response. "A mind brimming with knowledge, a prodigious intellect… best to nip this in the bud before he starts to think it rivals mine."
"That's what this is about? I thought this was just for the usual extraction…"
"Well, I've got a slightly personal stake in this one."
That's… familiar…
Yes, these voices, you've heard them before, haven't you…? The voice behind you, you've spoken with them before. It's on the tip of your tongue… is it-

The hood caresses your head again. A choked chirp involuntarily slips from your throat as your body twitches in place. It feels… so good…
What were you thinking about…?
You can feel your brain pickling from the massage, the simple tingly pleasure of the massage…
A thick, rough paw rests on your chest, then slides slowly down to rest on your stomach. Your body involuntarily pushes towards the sensation rather than shying away. And the claws continue to stroke. They trace shapes and spirals, lines and curls… runes? They feel familiar, you can picture them in your mind, but you're having trouble piecing them together or remembering what they might mean…

"Well then," the older voice says, "Let's get down to it."
The voice behind you, and the voice before you, murmur and chant words that sound… again, familiar to you, ones you've read in books, or heard spoken aloud by a lecturer. 
An …Arch…?
It's gone. The words supplant those thoughts, arcane and guttural.
The words have power, resonance in the air, and you feel their resonances curl around you, alight on your body and melt inside.
They weave around your spine and hold you stable, even as you writhe in the bonds and the hood. 
Some of the words curl upwards into your head, joining in with the hood's gentle fondling, but from within you rather than without.
Other words curl downwards, to your loins, curling around an organ that makes you twinge and twitch with heart-flutters and muffled whines.

The hood squeezes again. You feel your thoughts being wrung out of you, trickling down your body until it pools between your legs, and…
Nnngh…
Your cock's stirring. Or maybe it's been hard for a while, but the massage distracted you from it.
It feels like it's swelling - not merely engorged, but growing, bigger, bigger… heh, you feel dizzier, too… head's whizzing and spinning…
Ohhh, your cock's getting bigger, swelling up, too… bigger than normal? It feels that way. More blood, more will, is being poured into it. You feel the added weight pulling you forward even before the rough hand traces down your stomach to grip your cock.
It's wet in an instant, moistened by a charm, and it glides up, then down… up… then down…

And now you can tell, based on the way the grip is widening, that your cock is getting bigger…
It's stealing your brain power. Your thoughts. Your IQ.
Your head's getting squeezed and wrung by those gently tickling touches, dislodging them and allowing them to fall out of your head… trickling down to settle in a more important organ. The new pilot of your thoughts, the proper pilot
Your head isn't important. Your brain is ancillary Your mind is made for being massaged, for having the thoughts coaxed out of it, so all that energy can go right down to your growing, dribbling cock…

"All that knowledge…" the deep voice chuckles. "All those books you've pored over. All those spells you've pushed into that head over your years of study… they'll make for a very fine tincture. One that'll fetch a very high price."
Nnnh… knowledge potion… you faintly recall, yes, some particularly powerful knowledge potions use the seed of a scholar as an ingredient, but there's another part of the process that's…
That does something to the… mind of the…
To you…?
No, the thought's gone.
It drips out of your head. Down to your hard, thick cock.
It ceases to be important.
"And… you won't get any of those funny little ideas you used to have, will you, Ten, my pretty little bird?"
The gag in your beak is pulled free, and you gasp an obedient "No, Sir!"
You put your whole body into that 'No, Sir', your stomach pushing against his rubbing paw. The hood squeezes you, more firmly, and a paroxysm of bliss makes your toe-talons scrape against the floor and your body twist.

The chants continue, keeping an even pace, the volume unchanging…
And yet the sensations, the effects of the spell, seem to be getting exponentially stronger.
As your head gets quieter and squishier and emptier… your cock throbs harder, coiled up in arcane words which fondle and squeeze and cradle. The tiny rubs and tickles feel so overwhelmingly good, you barely notice the first climax until it hits you, and you feel the glass rim of a bottle against your glans as you pour your seed into a receptacle.
And you feel so good and lightheaded and nice, and maybe it is night time, maybe you ought to let the paws work you over and the spell squeeze away your thoughts… and go back to sleep…

But… 
There's an extinction burst. One last holdout of resistance in your bird brain. One last gasp. An attempt to cry out. Plead? Curse? Cast a spell of your own? Something instinctive…
But no words come. Just a dazed chirp, a moan…
"That's right, Ten…" the older voice coos, his subordinate picking up the incantation where he left off. "There's no need to fight it. This will be a far easier life for you… no more poring over books and endlessly questing for knowledge. You'll be far more useful to me, and to the world, exactly like this."
The hood squeezes your head… He must be right. You have been given permission by a superior to give in, and you'll do exactly that.

You're past the point of rescue. Past the point where any conscious thoughts remain. All the knowledge you've accumulated since arriving at the University, and more besides, becomes part of the Arch-Lecturer's Knowledge Tincture.
Your hard, virile, swollen cock produces a great deal of raw material for the potions. It drips like a spigot almost constantly. 
You have a lot of knowledge to give after all, each intelligence-draining orgasm providing even more seed than the last. And you chirp so beautifully with each climax, sharing sweet birdsong rather than backtalk. 
The sort of backtalk you had been giving the Arch-Lecturer, the contradictions and questions that had irritated him so… 
You'll know better than to do that when the spell is lifted, and embarrassment rushes in to take up the empty space in that mind.

For now, though, when you open your eyes, and stare into the darkness of the tight hood… you decide that it must be night time, and you go back to sleep.

"We're going to change your blindfolds again. This is a scent that will prepare you for the main courses."

Anopia's waiting area was barely bigger than an elevator. Behind Milo and Beem was a typical glass and metal door leading out into the street, and ahead of them was a violet velvet curtain. It had been about 5 minutes since they'd been told to 'wait' by a dark-clothed maitre'd, left to stew in their anticipation. 

"This feels… really intimate," Beem said, keeping his paws to himself, afraid to touch anything. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yeah, of course," Milo said. "Not just because we weren't able to get a refund. You were the first person we thought of to take Blair's place!"
"Well, gosh, that's real nice of you…" the golden-furred Samoyed's curly tail was wagging nervously. 
"It'd be worse if I was eating alone!" Milo continued. The bark-furred mule deer was more relaxed, but the excitement was evident in his sparkling green eyes.
"I feel bad for Blair, though… how's she doing?"
"She said she'll be fine, she's just bed-bound. She told us to call her when we get to dessert so we can give her the full rundown."
"Are phones allowed, though?" Beem asked. "I thought the whole point was…"
"Lights out, yeah… I'll just explain when we get seated."
"Alright… it is kinda exciting - oh, hey!"

Beem's blue eyes brightened as he caught sight of a horned, black-clothed figure stepping out from behind the curtain. He was rather small and slender for an Ox, but very handsome. He was wearing a blindfold over his eyes… it must have been seethrough, surely.

"Milo and Blair?" the ox asked.
"Beem, actually… Blair's, uhm, sick."
"Follow me." The waiter gave a polite little bow and stepped back through the curtain, holding it open with their black gloved arm.
"Oooh, okay…" Milo grinned and clenched his fists together, looking at Beem. "Excitiiiiing~"
"We have an exciting set of nine courses for you, tonight," the maitre'd said, his feline tail tucked politely between his legs. "Did you read the brochure?"
"I did!" Milo said excitedly.
"There was a brochure?" Beem asked.
"Don't worry about it," Milo said.
It was pitch dark past the curtain. The dog and the deer both had excellent night vision, of course, so they could see the small round tables and austere chairs… the dining hall was empty aside from them.

"We have the place to ourselves, huh?" Milo said. "Nice."
"We want this experience to be as intimate as possible for you both."
"Oh, no, we're not dating," Beem laughed. Even though his tail was wagging, his eyes were wide with anxiety.
The deer took it far more graciously; his laugh was a gentler one. "Yeah, sorry to disappoint…"
"That can't be right. Not with the way you two have been gazing at each other. You have been giving each other very… meaningful looks."
"Have we?!" the pair said in unison, Beem sounding way more scandalised.
"But of course…" there was a strange hint of smugness in the slender ox's tone. Okay, so he definitely could see underneath the blindfold…
"That's neither here nor there, though. Please sit here, sirs, and then we'll blindfold you."
"Blindfold…?"
"Oh yeah." Milo's grin glinted in the light. "Have you heard how more than half of what we think is taste is actually smell? Our noses do most of the work."
"Huh."
"So, each course is going to have its own unique scent! This's why Blair couldn't really come. Her nose's all stuffed up."
As Milo spoke, they sat. No sooner had they done so, soft satin bolts of cloth were wrapped around their heads. The strips were wide, wide enough to reach their noses.
The blindfold had a very slight citrus scent to it. Lemony and warm.
"This is to cleanse your olfactory palates," The ox explained. "To prepare you for the Anopia experience."

Milo had heard of this before… and he also knew that 'olfactory' palate cleansers were a placebo at best, but it was just part of the theatrical experience. Fine dining was theatre, after all.
"You will get a new blindfold every three courses, each of them scented to pair with the associated dishes. We hope you will enjoy the experience. Your first course is a buffalo mozzarella caprese salad…"
Beem didn't want to ask the ox where the mozzarella came from. Though the intrusive thought was there…

Eating blindfolded was less difficult than the pair expected. Neither of them had to worry about being spoonfed; just a few guiding touches of the wrists to keep their paws close enough to their utensils now and then. Otherwise the pair didn't feel the presence of the wait staff at all.

"Delicious," Milo said. 
"Mm-hm." Beem agreed, his mouth full of capers and brined 'smoked' carrot. 
There wasn't much conversation aside from that. Not that it was needed, not when there was another plate of crisp, delicious fried dumplings, and then a small cup of creamy, coriander-scented soup.
As that course was taken away, the pair felt a little tug. Beem yipped, Milo bleated - just a little caught off guard.

"Close your eyes, please," the ox waiter said, his familiar voice calming them. "We're going to change your blindfolds again. This is a scent that will prepare you for the main courses."

The scent in the cloth was… familiar to Milo. Very familiar. But it was only one of several different notes, and it faded to the back of his mind as the stronger scents pushed in. Sweet, spicy, warm…. like the warmth between a pair of thighs… A particular pair of…
"Hmmh, that's… actually kinda… nice…" Milo mumbled.
"Yeah…" Beem agreed. His tail was still wagging, but the pace had slowed considerably. Both of them took long, slow breaths, allowing them to pressed
Each of them felt - and obeyed - the desire to reach up and press the cloth more firmly against their noses, and take deeper breaths. The scent on the blindfolds was invited inside, and it made itself at home in their heads. It swirled and danced inside them, pushing their heads to and from from within…

"What's the… uh…" Milo slurred. "The uh… what's the word… the thing for the… place where the thing comes from…"
"The home?" Beem asked. "Hometown…?"
"Nnnno…" Milo giggled like a college student who'd just drank one alcopop. "…not like a place where a person's from, like… what's the word…"
"The scent has a very unique origin."
"Origiiiin," Milo said. "That's the word… I think."
"Ssso the origin, what is it…?" 
"It's a secret for now. You'll get a full list of the menu at the end of the experience."
"Oh, ok…" Beem and Milo mumbled, again in unison. They were strangely tuned into each other, now. Both of them took deep breaths, deep whiffs, at about the same time. They were settling into a rhythm.
"Take deep breaths and enjoy the scent. It will pair very nicely with your next course. It will be out momentarily."

"Ok…" the pair murmured, giggling as they realised they'd jinxed each other again.
They sat there for a while. The silence, the lack of light, only drew more attention to the scent of the cloth. The warmth and saltiness got stronger. Neither of them noticed, but their mouths were closed, just so they could take deeper whiffs of the scented blindfold. Trying to place it. And letting it take up more and more place in their mind. 
"Feel a little light headed…" Milo remarked.
"Yeah… floaty…" Beem agreed. "Like… I don't have a body, heh…"
"Yeah, like… I'm just a snout, nothin' else… Just sniffin'…."
"Hhh… just sniffin'… what's that mean…?"

The room was so quiet, they could hear each other's breathing, those deep sucking inhales through the nose to pull the musk - it had to have been some kind of musk - further in. It made itself at home like an invading, invited vampire… just as bewitching and ensorcelling.
As they slumped, Milo began to drool on himself, and Beem's tongue lolled out of the left side of his snout. 
A low chuckle only half-roused them from their scent-induced stupor.
"Mmhmhm… I think they've waited long enough."
Milo perked up. "B…bl….uh…?" 
His lips were too tired to smile, but he felt like he needed to smile… that voice made him want to.
"Hello, boys~!" the voice cut through the darkness. Both of them could picture, in their musk-pickled minds' eye, the goat girl's muzzle forming those words, her purple tongue licking along her blunt white teeth.

"I knew that was gonna get you both good~ You can remove the blindfolds, gentlemen."
The blindfolded waiters did as the deep, feminine voice commanded. 
As soon as the cloth fell free, the deer and the dog's eyes opened only a little. But it was just enough to see how profoundly entranced they were - both boys' eyes were full of pastel pinks and greens, gently ebbing like droplets of dyed oil in water. Her spell was well and truly cast over them.

"Unh…hn…?" the pair looked sluggishly towards the source of the sound. Their vision was full of colour and light, and it was hard to make out the shape at first.
But soon, their heads craned up as the large, statuesque figure of the four-horned goat approached.
"Blair…?" Milo mumbled.
"Hey, Milo," his partner said, a triumphant smile on her face. 
"Thought y…yyyou were sick…?" Beem asked, confusion peeking up from the sea of hypnotized bliss.
"I was. But I got better a couple days ago… and I wanted to surprise Milo. Nice to see you came along too, by the way…"
"Hi…" Beem giggled.

"But enough talk, let's not waste time getting to your next course…"
Blair came up to the table. The waiters gave her space. They took their own blindfolds away, and their eyes were pulsing with the same colours, four more gleaming lights in the otherwise pitch-black room.
Blair approached the table, her hoof-fingered hands sliding behind Milo and Beem's heads to guide them towards her. The goat's already dark purple fur made her almost impossible to see in the still-dark dining area. Aside from the glint of her horns and the gleam of her eyes.
Her shaft was far easier to discern. It made its presence known through its natural, savoury musk. It was enough to make both boys salivate, even if their appetites hadn't already been whetted by the food. Or if they hadn't been deeply brainwashed by her scent long before.
"Move the table, waiters."
The two mesmerised servers complied, and Blair moved to take their places.
"I was able to talk them into refunding us, but… then I decided it might be more fun to go a step further… since I'd already taken their minds~"

Blair pushed Milo and Beem's chairs closer together, their knees touching. Her hands scooped into the backs of their necks and pulled them downwards towards her crotch.
"Breathe deep. Deeper." Blair squished their snouts together between her legs. Letting the pheromonal scent of her crotch cake into their fur and their nostrils. The pair moaned gratefully, and the sharp inhales made Blair giggle with delight, and made her cock throb and sweat out some more musk.
"The scent brings you back, doesn't it? To all the other times you've been pressed against my cock. Each one building upon the last to smother your mind… making you drop deeper, quicker, each and every time it happens. So pleasurable, isn't it?"
The pair whined beneath Blair, their swirling eyes rolling upwards as they wiped their faces against her still engorging cock. As delicious as the appetizer courses had been… none of them held a candle to Blair's dick. It was totem of pure pleasure for them. Something they couldn't resist. Like a salt lick. Or a spoonful of peanut butter. Something their instinctual hind brains instantly went wild for.

"Alright, I see how much you're drooling, boys... Let's not keep you waiting for the next course~ Make the Ring."
The dog and the deer pulled away from her cock, allowing her to take a step back. Then, they pressed their noses together and opened their mouths wide, leaving space for Blair's shaft to slide right in, under their tongues. A pose they had been trained to strike many a time before, one their bodies knew intrinsically.
Just seeing them do it made Blair's cock jump with anticipation.
"Mmmnh…" she snarled happily, resting her hands on the tops of her boys' heads as she slid in, and out, through the ring the two had made with their mouths. "And if you think this is delicious, wait till you see dessert~"

"S! I! S-S-Y! I'M A SISSY! I LIKE GUYS!"

"S! I! S-S-Y! I'M A SISSY! I LIKE GUYS!"

My skirt bounces as I dance down the hallway towards the locker rooms. My knee goes up, then my footpaw kicks right up towards the ceiling. Each time I do, I get an eyeful of the white knee socks wrapped tightly around my muscly calves.
I don't like how good the tight socks feel…
I don't like how my dick's sticking out, swinging around like a wand inside the bulging pink panties I've got on… even when my legs aren't up in the air, my dick's long and hard enough to make my skirt tent too…! My olive-coloured wolf tail keeps wagging back and forth in time with this faggy chant…
S-stupid tail! I'm not having fun! THIS ISN'T FUN! Stop wagging…!

The pink pompoms rustle as I barrel-roll my hands around each other. Each time I kick, my arms go out towards the sides. I'm light on my feet, bouncing on my toes as I continue down the hallway. The huge pink backpack over my shoulder bounces with me. it's heavy, but I barely feel its weight…
"S! I! S-S-Y!" I'M A SISSY! I LIKE GUYS!"
My dick throbs in time to the chant. It feels good… too good!
I've got a big smile on my face too as I keep chanting and chanting and chanting…
I sound like a fucking sissy!
I… am a Sissy, I like Guys -
NO!
I don't want this, I can't control it…
The thing in my skull is tugging on my brain like it's a video game controller. Each time my leg jerks, I can feel a zap. It's a constant beat like a dripping tap, and it's driving me fucking nuts!
I can hear my teammates ahead of me, chatting and laughing.
Oh fuck, no, they're going to see me like this, and I'm never gonna live it down! They're gonna call me cheerleader, or cheerfag, or Bitchbraden, or… UGH! I'll have to drop outta Sycamore U, move across the country and change my identity…

Unless… I can just… get control of my… body again-!
I feel another jolt, and my cock fucking throbs in my tight panties. My dick's too big for it, it's gonna slip out and tent the short skirt I'm wearing…
Fuck, this is even worse…
They're gonna see this is turning me on - no, no, it's not turning me on, it's just making my dick hard. I d-don't want… this…!
Not when we're about to go into the field, up against our rivals at Mesmer U…

All this after I watched that dumb sissy hypno video on a dare…
At the time I just laughed at it. Even the title was stupid - TURN YOURSELF INTO A SISSY CHEERLEADER! HYPNOSIS ASMR M4M REAL
It was so badly done. It had a really bad robot voice and all this weird noise in the background while this pink and white spiral swirled on the screen. It was stupid! So stupid. I didn't think it'd work on anyone even if they were listening to it on loop for like 3 days straight.
…I maybe listneed to it a couple times, but that wouldn't have been enough, would it…? It isn't a big deal that I just kinda had it on in the background while I was working out, until I could quote it word for word, esp…especially the thing I'm chanting right now…
"S! I! S-S-Y! I'M A SISSY! I LIKE GUYS!"


"So how's this even supposed to work?"
"The mind-virus is transmitted through subtle binaural inflections within the audio file. It eventually will induce a compulsion to speak a repetitive phrase that can be spread, well… orally."
"Like, making out?"
"That's the great part. No. The chant's all that's needed. Language is the vector. I got the idea from a horror movie. I gotta show you it."
"Only if not's one of those weird nerdy horror movies."
"It's a zombie movie! Actually it's a really fun take on the genre, especially-"
"Don't care, nerd. Just send him the video."


"Braden? That you?"
Nonononono…
They can hear me chanting from the hallway! 
I see a black dragon with pale blue horns peek out from around the corner. Bryan's already down to just wearing a towel… and he starts laughing at me!
"GUYS! C'mon! You gotta see what Braden's doing!"
No no, turn back, turn back…!
My dancing intensifies, and I pump up the volume of my chanting too… I'm almost shouting it!

He keeps laughing, and he raises a claw to point at me… before it drops down, and his smile starts to soften, and… 
his lips are starting to move.
"What're you even saying, bro… Sissy? You like guys?!"
"S! I! S-S-Y!"
"You're a sissy…" he says, along with me… "you like guys…?"
Oh no… I can see it in his eyes, he's starting to pick up the words too…
A smile starts to return to his face, but it's not the smile he had when he was laughin'… it reminds me of what my smile feels like…
"S… I… S-S-Y…" he nods along. His grin's getting bigger, dumber-looking, and his pupils are getting really thin…
Oh fuck. He's starting to do it too! I want to tell him to stop, to fuck off, stop making fun of me… but even if I could, I c
"I'm a Sissy! I like guys!" He kicks up in the air, and turns around to dance into the room ahead of me…
I hear them laughing… and their laughter gets even louder as I dance right into the middle of the room. I can't even look around, or signal to them to cover their ears…
It's already too late. Bryan's started to chant along too, and it's spreading… to the puma, to the rhino, to the naga, to the eagle, the honey badger…

Even Coach Mike… 
I see the big barrel chested gator go for his whistle with anger and panic in his eyes. Maybe if he was quicker, if he blew it in time, maybe that could have snapped us outta it… 
But the moment the whistle's on his lips, he starts to chant, and it tumbles down to dangle at his chest… Then he yanks it off so he can get as naked as everyone else…!
There's no stopping the dance, or the chant.
I keep dancing. Their shoulders are the first parts of them that join in, along with their feet… they bounce on the balls of their feet, kicking off their cleats and starting to sway…
Then everyone who's still dressed starts to take everything off, whipping off their tank tops… 
We're all so fucking hot. I l-like looking at them, I like guys…!
Yeah, I'm a sissy, I like guys…
N-no, no I'm not!
F-Fuck! Fuck! No! Braden, c'mon, snap outta it…!
Guys, shake me out of it, please…!

Everyone's dancing and chanting along now… their eyes are wide like mine, their smiles are big and girly, and they're bouncing up and down like puppy dogs…

I bounce in a circle and slide the backpack off of my body. I unzip and it spills out skirts, tube tops, pompoms… enough for everyone on the team!
Guys, no, don't put them on, don't put them on…!
They have to stop dancing, but they don't stop the chant! Their deep voices get higher, girlier, some of them even go into a squeaky head voice like they're trying to 
What's that called? Fal…setto or someth…ing..? 
H-hard to think, to r-remember…
S… I… S-S-Y…
I'm a Sissy, I like Guys, there's no room for anything else…
NNGH! N-no…

Fuck, I feel like I just blinked and the whole team's already finished changing…
They're all dressed up like me too… tank tops, tented skirts, long socks…
Our outfits are bright pink, with the silhouette of a Sycamore tree on them… covered in glittery sequins, with the text Sissymore U beneath it.
Oh fuck. No… No…

"Let's go~!" my throat giggles! "We gotta show how cute and sissy we are to the whole stadium…!"
"Yeaaah~!"
"One-Two-Three-Four!"
"S-I-SS-Y! WE ARE SISSIES! WE LIKE GUYS!"

I lead the way as we dance down the hall, out towards the stadium, still a prisoner in my own body…
The more the chant continues, the less power I feel I have… and the more relaxed I feel.
And the more my cock dribbles pre, making a big stain in my cute… rrgh… s-stupid panties…
It feels r-really nice…
T-too nice…

"But what about us? Is their chanting gonna… uh, infect us?"
"Oh, it won't. The aural stimulation disperses into the atmosphere and is quickly diluted; it needs a small space with lots of reverberation- sorry, that means-"
"Yeah, I follow, you don't gotta dumb it down. I understand you just fine."
"But you like it when I use big nerdy words…"
"No, they make me want to shove your face between my legs and shut you up."
"Threatening me with a good time…"
"Ugh. You fuckin' nerd. So we just keep our distance and let them do their thing until they automatically forfeit?"
"That's right. And there's nothing in the rulebook against it. So you're in the clear, sexy."
"Rrgh. Stop calling me that."

I hear the crowds ahead of us. But the chant drowns it out. It rolls through my head even as I march…
This is bad, this is bad, c'mon boys… one of us has gotta be able to snap out of it before it's t…too late…
No one snaps out. No one comes to our rescue. We all keep dancing in formation, completely synchronised, like we've been cheerleaders all our lives…
The crowd starts to cheer ahead of us as the commentator's voice comes through…
"And it sounds like we've got the Sycamore U cheer squad coming out at last… hopefully the Sycamore Strikers won't be too far behind… and here we…"

"WE! ARE! SISSYMORE U!"
"WATCH US DANCE! ENJOY THE VIEW!"

The chants keep bouncing around us, and we keep dancing… there's new moves, too! We're sticking our asses in the air and shaking them around, and our tails are raising up high to show off the pink panties we've got on…
Mentocity University's team are watching us with crossed arms and big smiles… like they knew this was gonna happen…!
Some of them even have their phones out - so many flashes pointing at us to get every angle…
Rrrgh, I wanna run over to them and knock their teeth out but I can't.. stop… dancing!
All I can do is twist my body to shake my ass and wiggle my tail in their direction as we kick, prance, and dance…
And chant that f-fucking chant…

"S! I! S-S-Y!"
"WE ARE SISSIES! WE LIKE GUYS!"
"WE! ARE! SISSYMORE U!"
"WATCH US SHAKE! ENJOY THE VIEW!"

No one on our side of the bleachers is making a sound. Our friends, family… They're so freaked out… do they think we're doing this because we want to?
…Do we want to?
Do I want to?
…heeh…. it is kinda fun to do the chant.
I feel really light on my feet, really bouncy… My pecs and cock are definitely bouncing like crazy, and… and my muscles are getting shown off too, and…
Wait… maybe this is what a sissy's meant to be like. Maybe sissies can have muscles and big swinging dicks, and tight clothes…
Maybe I am a…
We are…
Sissies…
We like guys…!

I give up control to the chant, and I suddenly feel freer than I ever have before… our chants echo in each others' ears, and we all stay in perfect time with each other…!
We are Sissymore U!
I put on a show, and let everyone enjoy the view…~!
Heehee~! 

"So, I watched the movie you were talking about… it was fuckin stupid."
"Pearls before swine. I didn't think you would."
"Fine. Whatever. Here's your payment…"
"Mmmh… oh these are ripe. Did you just take them from practice?"
"Yeah. The rest of the team was happy to give them up. They said thanks for winning us the Cup."
"Just 'thanks'? Heh… I think I deserve more than that."
"Well, tough shit, nerd. You're n-not…"
"Mindslave time."
"Nng…nh… D-Doctor B-Benny is so hot… wh… wha…w-w…"
"Just let the chant bubble up. There we go."
"w…we obey his every thought! Doctor Benny… is so hot! We obey his every thought!"
"Heh… 'Doctor Benny'. can't wait till I get my Doctorate for real…
"Doctor Benny is so hot! We obey his every thought!"
"Mmh~ Let's get you marching back to the rest of the team… then you'll bring everyone here for me once you've all got the chant memorised. Why settle for sniffing your jockstraps when I can get 'em from the source…~"
"Doctor Benny is so hot! We obey his every thought!"