CW: humiliation, non-consent

You’re proud of your body. And you have every right and reason to be. You worked hard to get it, you’ve been lifting ever since sophomore year of high school and that passion has only grown stronger alongside your physique with every rep and every year.

You love everything about it. You love the burn. You love the pump. You love to grunt and sweat and feel that proud glow in your chest as the weights you once were unable to drag a single inch become what you reach for when you just need a light warm up. But most of all, you love the power that comes with your muscle; not just being able to throw a ton of weight around, though that’s awesome, of course. But it’s more than that.

When it came to muscle power, only half of it came from the strength of your muscles themselves. The rest came from the promise of what those muscles could be capable of. Just existing as you were, just by moving through life while taking up more and more space had an undeniable influence on those around you.

It made you feel great whenever your skinny coworker would walk up to you red in the face and a stutter in his voice asking you to open or lift something that was too much for his body but easy for yours. You felt like a stud whenever you wore a tank top and everywhere you went you could see eyes tracing the fruits of your dedication with lust, envy, and best of all: awe.

One of the most exhilarating moments in your life was during a night on the town with some friends. Two guys a few booths down started screaming and puffing their chests at each other. A fight was about to go down if someone didn’t do something. As soon as that realization hit, you got up from your chair; somehow you knew just what to do and that it would work. You glided over beside them and stood to your full height. That in itself was enough to get them to go quiet and turn to you. Without saying anything, you folded your arms and raised an eyebrow at them. You felt a rush through every muscle when the two men, just moments ago filled with bluster and testosterone, went from screaming threats to muttering apologies, unable to meet your gaze. Fuck, it was incredible. You didn’t even have to do anything, just the possibility that you could do something was enough to get people to do what you wanted.

Even more incredible when at the end of the same night you and your party found that the tab had been wiped clean, and you were offered a job. From that moment on you got to live that rush night after night. Turning entitled, aggressive guests into meek kittens or- failing that- kicking their ass to the curb. Sometimes you wondered if you should really be getting as much pleasure out of this job as you did. But it’s not like you were a power tripping bully or anything, or maybe more accurately you never went on a power trip on someone who didn’t have it coming.

Tonight, so far, has been free of shenanigans. Things tend to get less rowdy on nights when performers come in, like tonight’s stage hypnosis show. Usually, the bar went for bands or burlesque but an 18+ hypnosis show seemed like an interesting change of pace.

The hypnotist wasn’t quite what you expected, not that you were sure what to expect anyway. They said to call them Onyx. Onyx was small, almost delicate. Soft skin matted with white powder to seem almost ghostly pale, raven black hair billowing across their shoulders. They wore one of those fancy puffy black shirts and billowy trousers that added a certain grace to an already smooth and self-assured sense of movement. Frankly… they were beautiful…. But you were strictly professional with them of course.

After you and your supervisor filtered the audience into the bar, you both stand side by side at the front doors, turned towards the stage. Not really expecting anything but keeping an eye out just in case.

The lights dim and upon the stage a single pale beam of light illuminates Onyx’s figure. For a moment, your breath is taken. Something about the contrast between the use of white and black to construct their entire appearance. The darkness of their hair and the shadow on their eyes seem to somehow glow just as bright as their pale cheeks and hands. You can’t help but find yourself wondering if the skin covered by their black ruffled clothes would glow just as bright if revealed to light. You’re nursing some hope that maybe you’ll find out. This is an adult show after all.

“Good evening my dear, dear audience. I hope you’re as excited as I am for tonight. Let’s skip the preamble, you know who I am, and we all know why we’re here; to make some very, very hot people look very, very stupid!” You chuckle alongside everyone else; this was gonna be a fun night.

“Let’s be honest, no one is going to willingly volunteer for what I have in mind, so I’ll just take my pick.” The black eyes of the handsome figure on stage scans the room before them, they hold their chin and stroke their neatly trimmed goatee in a faux puzzling manner. “Let’s see, let’s find someone hot to call on! Hmm no… no… no… jeez slim pickings here tonight, eh?” Pffft, you like this dude.

Their gaze reaches the back of the room and widens, “Oh, hello there! You! Mr. Bouncer, the blonde one!” A pale slender hand points in your direction. “You’re the perfect candidate for what I’ve got in mind for tonight. Come on up, darling!”

Stupidly, you turn around as if there could possibly be another blond bouncer embedded in the concrete wall behind you. You turn back to the stage and point to yourself, “…me?”

“Yes you! You see any other jacked, gorgeous studs near you? I’m here to bake all the lovely people here a sweet treat, and a beefcake sounds just about exactly what we’re craving. Am I right, dears?” The mass of audience is turned towards you now, buffeting you with excited faces and hollers.

You feel yourself flush from the attention and even more so from the compliments that this absolutely gorgeous person is giving you as if they’re self-evident. “I mean… I would but I’m-I’m on the clock and- “As the words tumble out of your mouth your supervisor gives you a smirk and a gentle (for someone his size anyway) shove toward the stage. Taking that as permission, you shuffle your way towards the stage gradually shifting into more confident-looking strides as applause welcomes you. You chastise yourself for being nervous. There isn’t any cause for fear.

You step onto the stage and squint a bit from the spotlight that now shines on you. The gorgeous hypnotist saunters up, their eye shadow glimmers in the light of the attention, “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Uh, Henry.”

“Everyone give it up for, Henry!” You resist the urge to rub the back of your neck as applause envelops you. You try to keep your focus on the hypnotist but fortunately that’s not really difficult…

“It’s been a while since I had a big guy like you up here. Guess you’ve got to be big in your line of work, right?”

“Hehe, right.”

“My, those arms are thick! Wanna treat us to a flex, big guy?”

You don’t need to be told twice! Relieved to be in more familiar territory, you roll up the sleeve on your right arm and let your bicep speak more clearly than your mouth currently can. You’re met with another round of applause and a couple wolf whistles, but instead of making you shrink like before you can feel the attention embolden and fortify you. Even here you can always count on your muscles to carry you through.

“Ever been hypnotized before, Henry?”

“Nope! Never. Never really thought about it before, honestly.”

“Well don’t worry, you’re hardly the first newbie who’s dropped deep for me. Come take a seat.”

You follow their instructions and rest yourself on the plush black chair, it’s a nice break from standing all shift. But almost as soon as you get comfortable, a black circular gem on a silver chain swings in front of you. It’s cut in the shape of a perfect circle, its depths such a deep and rich black it seemed that no light penetrated into it. You realize Onyx is standing behind the chair, one arm now snaked around your neck holding the gem and the other hand on your shoulder. You try to hide your flush but it’s hard when you can feel their breath on your neck.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay to be nervous. That’s totally normal, dear… I’m here to help you relax and have fun, okay?”

“O-okay sorry I just- “

“Shhh no need for that, no need to speak at all really. I just need you to focus on this pretty gem for me.” The inky black circle is situated above your head just high enough that you have to lift your eyes a little more than is comfortable to see it. A part of you feels a little silly following the cliche instructions, but with the bare stage and the spotlight making the audience almost invisible from this angle, there isn’t much else to focus on.

And even if there was… it’s undeniably a pretty gem. As it starts to sway from side to side you find that you don’t actually need to use much resolve to keep your eyes on it. Its arc is as smooth and confident as every other movement Onyx has made.

“Notice the way it catches the light, Henry. See how it changes with each arc? Each time it passes directly over the stage light, the light almost seems to warp and wrap around the stone.

Yeah… they’re right. It’s really pretty to watch. Like how at the low point of each arc the gemstone will capture the bright white light beaming onto your face and eclipse it. Each swing punctuated with a moment of shadow, and as you watch and breathe it feels like each one of those moments is taking more and more light.

It’s strange, the stage certainly isn’t getting any dimmer, but you can’t shake the notion that with each arc the gem drew in more and more of the light. As if the periods of light between the shadows were each absorbed when the next shadow came, not a continuous glow but individual ones each being consumed one after another. Each arc consuming the light that came next.

And as you stare and follow you realize that just as the gem is eclipsing all the light, it’s doing the same thing to your tension: each shadow drains the stress out of your heavy muscles. Distantly, you’re aware of how your arms are resting more heavily on the armrests and your head now leaned against the chair’s cushion instead of stiffly held aloft. You can feel your chest relax and your jaw unclench with an almost involuntary sigh.

And just like how the gem is eclipsing the light and your tension, it also begins to do the same to your thoughts. It was already so hard to think when so focused and relaxed but now each shadow passing over your eyes smothers more and more of those thoughts in your handsome, little head.”

For a brief moment you realize that, for who knows how long, your internal monologue has been little more than a mirror of the husky words Onyx was whispering into your ear. But before you could do anything about it or even think about whether you should do anything about it, the gem eclipsed the light ahead of you and that thought just like so many others were absorbed into the beautiful gem. Each swing reduces your consciousness into a dim void that Onyx is more than happy to fill with their sultry timbre.

Each arc drains so much of your energy that it makes your whole body, even your eyelids, feel heavier and heavier. You can feel them start to twitch and sag with the strain of following the beautiful gem.”

“You’re doing such a good job for me Henry, we’re almost done. You’ve been so strong for so long tonight! Staying awake, resisting hypnosis, keeping yourself from falling into a trance is like a muscle itself, something we can all tell you know a good deal about, right?”

Muscle… trance… oh you were being asked a question, “…yes.” The word felt so distant and far away, so hard to grasp onto and push out of your throat.

“Exactly, and so I’m sure you know that whenever you exercise a muscle, like what you’re doing right now by staying awake, eventually it has to give in to the burn and rest after a certain number of reps yeah?”

Muscle…. Reps… oh another question, “…. yes.” That rush that comes with just barely making that last rep. Sinew destroying itself into something more better than before. The love for that strain, followed by burn, followed by rest is a cycle you’ve embraced for years.

“And you want to properly finish your set, don’t you?”

Finish… of course you do, you love doing that, “…yes.”

“Such a knowledgeable, dedicated fellow we have here tonight. You’re doing so well. But you’re reaching that point where soon you have to finish the set and sink into a rest. You can feel that burning strain of staying awake get harder to bear with every swing, every second. I’d say you got one more set of 10 left in you. So, I’m going to swing this gem ten more times and with each number from 10 all the way to 1 you’ll find the weight of staying awake gets heavier and heavier until you need to fully drop into rest at 1. Do you understand?”

Heavy…. 10…. 1… rest, rest sounds so good, “…. yes.”

“Good boy, 10.”

You can feel your eyes twitch and flutter.

“9.”

You were now just barely able to keep up with that beautiful arc.

“8.”

It’s like each swing is decimating your energy with each shadow passing over your heavy eyes.

“7.”

You can feel your head wobble on your neck, trying to move your neck in a way to compensate for the slower movements of your eyes.

“6.”

Your eyelids are half closed at this point. You can’t help it.

“5.”

You let your body slouch down the chair a bit to make it easier to look up, it’s so important to you to finish your set.

“4.”

But that release of energy just makes your eyelids droop even more. Your eyes start rolling in the back of your head instead of following, fuck you can’t let yourself fail out yet. You can strain harder. C’mon man you’re so close.

“3.”

Your eyes are basically just slithers at this point, can only barely be considered open. Honestly, now you’re just looking out for the shadow rather than following the actual arc.

“2.”

The slits of your eyes twitch and twinge, you put all your energy into this last rep, you have to finish your set because… because-

“1. Drop now.”

You drop the weight bearing onto your consciousness and let yourself wallow into a deep passive rest. Distantly you can hear the words of Onyx float into your ears and wrap themselves around your consciousness, soothing away any lingering thoughts like a hot towel onto your mind….

“… wide awake!” You find yourself jolting slightly forward in your chair and give in to the sudden urge to shake your head clear, though it doesn’t do much good. Woah that was…. something.

“How do you feel, handsome?”

It takes you a minute to even process the question is being directed to you, “oh um… good, I think? Did I get hypnotized?”

A peal of laughter erupts throughout the audience, Onyx gives you a black painted smirk down at you making you feel weirdly… small. You’re not used to that feeling…

“Why don’t you look and see for yourself?” The hypnotist lowers their eyes down your body, you follow suit-

“Oh!” This response sends another wave of laughter in the dark beyond the stage. Your black T-shirt and jeans are suddenly nowhere to be seen. You look down to see your chest and arms completely on display and almost glistening in the stage light off of your golden-brown skin.

“Oh… gosh…” You feel a laugh peal out of you alongside the audience. You feel your cheeks heat up a bit but you don’t cover up. It’s… a lil’ embarrassing to apparently have stripped and forgotten about it but frankly, “You know bro if you wanted me to take my shirt off all you had to do was ask!” You shoot a friendly smile at the dashing hypnotist and flex your chest in a way that makes your pectorals pop, summoning another round of whistles.

You notice your chest is a bit… damp. “Did you spill something on me?” Cue the laughs and titters.

“Hehe, you did that all yourself big guy, not even you can help from drooling all over that body I suppose.”

You blink. “I…. Drooled?”

“Like a faucet! Don’t worry dear, that’s actually quite normal when one goes into a trance as deep as the one you were in.”

“That’s… wow… I don’t remember that at all. I don’t- “And then you notice, the only stitch on your entire person seems to only be covering your crotch and…. is that?

You rise from your seat, wobble momentarily from the blood rushing to your head, and turn your body in order to see your backside and…. Yes, that is DEFINITELY a jockstrap. This… this isn’t the underwear you put on for work, you don’t even own any jockstraps.

Did you… did Onyx… in front of all these people? You raise your gaze to Onyx and the smirk on their face tells you that, yes. Yes, they definitely did. You open your mouth to say… something, but they raise an eyebrow at you and whatever you were gonna say freezes on your tongue. It feels like they know exactly what you’re thinking and are daring you to say anything about it. And you just… don’t. That one simple gesture makes you feel… so weird. You’re standing at your full height now but looking at Onyx you somehow still feel small.

It… it’s not that big a deal. It’s an 18+ show after all and, if you’re being fully honest, it’s not like you’re exactly lacking down there; you’ve no doubt the audience liked what they saw. “Man, you really got me good.”

“I sure did. I must say you have a remarkably malleable mind, a true pleasure to mold. You’ve been an excellent volunteer.”

You feel a warm smile spread on your face, you’re relieved that the small feeling melts a little bit under their praise, “It was my pleasure, man! Or… well, maybe more like their pleasure.” You gesture and wink towards the audience earning yourself a few hearty “fuck yeahs!”

“You’ll hear no arguments here! A body like yours deserves to be appreciated. Tell me big guy, how much are you benching?”

You can’t help the puff in your chest and the grin lighting up your face. You stand tall and spread your arms wide in a double bicep pose, “230 pounds!”

A final round of applause rings out. “Such a specimen! I’ll let you get back to your seat but before I do may I ask you one small favor?”

“Uh yeah sure, what’s up?” A part of you wants to get off while you’re ahead but… well, they’re really, really pretty and you’re only human, no matter how strong you are.

“Would you mind moving that chair for me?” The raven-haired mesmerist points a manicured hand towards the chair you had just risen from. “Just a few feet to the right.”

“Oh! Uh, yeah, of course no problem.” You’re a little confused by the request. Why do they want to move it? Maybe now that they’ve started, they’re realizing its position is inconvenient somehow or not the best view for the audience and they want to rectify that before they call their next volunteer.

You’re not sure why they need you to move it though. You walk around to the back of the chair. It’s a fancy looking one; the kind you’d see in an old castle. Black like Onyx’s… well, everything. But it’s still just a chair. Even a little guy like them should be able to pick it up no problem, wouldn’t they have been the one to have moved it up here to begin with? Maybe there’s something about the material the chair is made of that makes it heavier than it looks, and they don’t wanna start huffing and puffing in front of everyone up here. You bend over and wrap your hands around the back. That makes sense, well you’ll happily spare them the embarrassment and-

…. huh. Thats weird. You feel yourself position your body as you’re about to lift and your fingers tense as you make the decision to start but…. The rest of your muscles… just won’t tense. You lift it a couple centimeters before losing grip and having it drop down.

You shake your head real quick to get the lingering trance off and heave but again nothing happens. When you attempt to lift up, the muscles in your chest, arms, and legs just don’t respond with the power you know they’re more than capable of. They stay loose and relaxed, never actually gaining any real leverage. You let it fall again and widen your stance a bit.

You try to lift again. And again. And again.

“Everything alright back there?”

“Huh? Uh yeah…”

“Really? You seem to be having quite a bit of trouble back there.”

“I got it!” You restrain yourself from letting your frustration show in your voice.

You kneel and grab on again, take a deep breath, heave…. And… agh fuck.

What the hell? What’s going on? It’s like your body isn’t responding to your will. What’s…

Onyx strokes their goatee, “Hmmm, you seem to be struggling there a great deal.” Laughter that outshines any other previous outburst peals around you. Suddenly it hits you how all this looks, you feel your face get hot.

“N-no look I just need to get a proper grip… I … agh god fuck.” What is happening? Why isn’t your body working? You shove your fingers in your hair as another round of laughter reaches your ears.

You shake your head, slap your cheeks with your palms, and give another heave; you strain and gasp for a few seconds before you have to let it fall. You lose your balance and fall on your bare ass with a groan, again met with that… that laughter everywhere. You look helplessly towards the chair… What… is happening?

“I thought you said you could bench 230?”

“I-I can! I did it just this morning!” You did, you really did! And you don’t even feel sore or anything, you did all your stretches just fine like always.

“Then why can’t you lift the chair?” That black lipped smirk never leaves their face.

“I can! I can!” You storm back to the chair, grab on and… god fucking dammit!

You lower your head as the laughter rises against you again, everyone… everyone is laughing at you. And they’re laughing harder than they ever did when laughing with you.

Almost in a daze, you grab at the chair only to fall on your ass again. You feel a sting behind your eyes and lower your face into your hands. You can’t even remember the last time you’ve struggled to lift something outside of the gym, it didn’t make sense… you’re strong! You’re the strong guy!

As if reading your mind Onyx leans down towards you, “Here I was thinking you were big and strong.”

It cuts. It cuts deep. “I am! I am stro- “your voice cracks, triggering yet more mocking laughter. You angle your head slightly away from the audience, praying that it sufficiently hides the wetness in your eyes. You take a deep shaky breath and carefully say, “I. AM. Strong.”

“Well, I’m quite certain that chair isn’t heavier than 230 pounds so… were you lying earlier? When you said you could lift that much?” What?! Of course not! You open your mouth but as you do…they raise their eyebrow at you again. You pause; it takes you a couple false starts “I… I mean I-I just…. Um. I-I-I- “

Onyx pitches their voice up a couple octaves “You, you, you, you what?” You recoil at the blatant mockery in their voice. This… this doesn’t make any sense either, you have at least half a foot and a hundred pounds on them but their every word, movement, breath radiates unquestionable authority in a way you’ve never seen in your adult life. “How long are you planning try to keep up this obvious lie?”

But- but it wasn’t a lie! You have to make them believe you, you have to make everyone believe you.

“I-I’m not…” Another arched eyebrow.

“I s-swear I…” Their frown deepens.

“I…” They cross their arms. As soon as they take on that posture you whimper. You can’t help it, it just happens. They were always beautiful and enchanting before but now they seem so… powerful. Just by looking at you like that you can’t seem to bring yourself to speak or act against them, the sheer force of their will exerts its gravity on you and keeps you in check. Just by existing in their vicinity you’re overwhelmed by the need to appease them. Hot tears stream down your face, but you can’t stop them. The laughter is nigh constant now.

Onyx heaves a deep sigh as if they’re being extremely put out, “Look… I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a chance to prove you’re telling the truth.”

You don’t even let them finish, “Yes! Yes, I’ll do anything! I’ll- “

They glare at you and hold up a hand. Your stream of words suddenly freeze, “Don’t you dare interrupt me again. Ever. Understood, weakling?”

You almost protest being called a weakling but… but you can’t say anything other than “yes”. That’s okay… you’re gonna prove that you’re not a weakling anyway.

“Yes what?”

“Um yes…. Yes Sir?” You’re not sure how you know, but something inside tells you that that word is what they want from you. Their very being seems to flex an influence onto you that makes you bend and sink to their will with ease, you don’t think you could deny them a single thing at this moment.

“Better, now as I was saying I just so happen to have a dumbbell with me. If you can lift it just once, then I’ll believe you when you say you’re strong, deal?”

“Deal! I mean, deal Sir!”

“Very good, stay put.” They stride off to the bag they kept at the side of the stage and pull out a weight. The kind you’d find at home gyms. No plates. Its alternating red and white pattern gives the impression of a particularly swole candy cane. It’s the totally standard single pound dumbbell.

You immediately relax, you’ve literally found yourself lifting much more than that in your sleep. This will be easy. You’ll be able to show everyone you’re not a liar and that you’re really really strong and everyone will stop laughing and everything will be okay again.

“If you can do just one single rep on this weight, then I’ll believe you when you say you’re strong” they hold the weight in one hand and gingerly lean forward to hand it to you, “okay?”

“Okay, Sir!” You eagerly grab onto the weight and-

And… your arm suddenly loses all its tension and goes limp to your side. You feel the rubber grip slide from between your traitorous fingertips. The thud of the weight hitting the floor is small, fitting for its heft, but to you it’s deafening. Or maybe that was the fire of laughter coming from around the entire building. You look up from the fallen weight and into Onyx’s face. Their smirk has gotten bigger than it has been all night, “I knew it” condescension apparent in every inch of their much smaller body.

“It… no wait! It slipped! It just slipped! I’m strong! I’m strong! Here I’ll- “You fall to your knees and wrap your fingers around the grip. You pull. And you pull. And you pulled. And you pull and each time the weight won’t lift, not even a single inch.

Oh… oh god.

The laughter won’t stop, you’re scared it never will. You’ll just spend the rest of your weak, pathetic life being drowned in the jeers and taunts of those who once respected and feared you. You curl up into a ball onto the cold granite stage and sob. “Is he fucking crying?” Is scream-asked from the back of the crowd summoning a new form of snickers.

You suddenly have a word for that small feeling earlier, powerlessness. When was the last time you ever felt it? You haven’t felt it like this since you were a child. This can’t be happening, you’re strong! You have to be strong. If you aren’t strong…. what are you? Who are you? What do you have left if not your strength? What else do you have to offer anybody?

Gently, you feel a pair of fingers wrap around your wet chin. It’s Onyx, giving you a knowing but gentle smile, “Now now darling, no more of that. This is just what happens when you start telling lies about being a strong powerful man when you’re really a weak little boy. I think you owe us an apology.”

You… what else can you do? “I’m… I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For… for,” you sniffle, “for lying… about being strong… I’m sorry for being weak, Sir.”

“Good boy, I accept your apology. But I’m not the only one you have to apologize to.” They turn your quivering head towards the audience. In the dark you can make out several faces, your boss and coworkers you had beers with after a long night, dudes and chicks you had flirted or hooked up with off the clock, entitled jerks who you had on some nights had the pleasure of ejecting onto the pavement outside. All united in their mirth and joy at your humiliation.

“I’m… I’m sorry everybody for lying to you, I’m sorry about pretending to be strong.” You see each of those faces lose themselves in joyous mirth seeing you beg.

“That’s a very good boy, you’ve done so well. Dry those eyes for me, weakling.” They gently wipe your tears off your cheeks and beneath your eyes, their hand is so soft against your face. Here when they call you weakling it sounds almost…. sweet, “You can’t help that you’re weak, you just got confused that’s all.”

“I-I did?”

“That’s right my dear weak boy. Deep down you already know exactly what to do. You don’t have to keep pretending. You don’t have to be strong.”

“No… I do though. I do! If I’m not strong… then I don’t know what to do… I’m not good at anything else…” You break into choking sobs only to be gently hushed by Onyx, they run a pale hand through your blond hair. You eagerly lean into their touch and almost give another sob. The soft touch feels so, so good after so much raw hurt. You drink up the kindness desperately.

“Oh, darling that’s not true at all. Don’t you see? You’re a wonderful boy, a perfect weakling. You’re doing so well at what you’re meant for. Following and submitting to someone strong.”

“Someone… strong?” That made sense… if you weren’t strong, it was only natural you follow someone who was, right? Someone who was truly commanding and powerful like…. like Onyx…

“Exactly, aren’t you tired of all this pain and fear? You don’t have to worry about being weak, dear. Because all that means is you have to find someone to be strong for you. Tell you what to do. How to live. Someone to care for and guide you.” Their manicured fingers trace your cheek. You are tired, your face hurts from the tears. Someone to take care of you sounds so nice. You lean into the soft touch as they cup your cheek.

“But… but who? How?” You’ve never had to search for someone who could be strong for you before, you never ever thought you’d need to.

Onyx cards their soft finger across your locks, “Oh you poor simple thing, isn’t it obvious?” They take a few steps back leaving your scalp aching for their touch. They widen their stance before you as if presenting, meticulous hands held regally by their hips, and with each sentence their smile widens into something sharp and hungry, that tenderness now increasingly tinged by something darker. “It’s not hard at all to find someone to submit to, in fact it’s the most natural thing in the world…”

You watch their eyes stalk up and down your form, drinking in your exposed, fully defenseless body. The feel of those dark eyes trailing you up and down summons the almost totally forgotten feeling of wanting to cover up and hide your physique. But not from safe, simple modesty; the way the hypnotist looks at you makes you instinctively want to curl up and hide any flesh from their view for the same reason you’d curl up if you were cornered by a predator in the woods: desperately hoping that by shielding the parts of you that are meaty and tender then they’ll be less tempted to tear you open and devour you, “It’s very simple. You just need to submit yourself fully to the person you know deep down deep is more powerful than you could ever be. The one that with barely any effort can bring you to your lowest point. The one who you can’t stop watching, can’t stop listening to, can’t stop obeying their every whim.” Onyx winks at you, “Does that sound familiar, handsome?”

Suddenly… it dawns on you. This is their fault, they… they did something to you while you were hypnotized and made you like this. You…. This should make you angry, this should make you realize that you actually are strong and can deck them in their smug perfect face but… but they’re just so strong. Every step, every smile, every word feels so irrefutable. The memory of their withering looks flash into your mind’s eye briefly. Can you even bring yourself to face that?

No! No, you can’t give in! They’re just some tiny asshole! You can take them! You shake your head, trying to get the haze off of your thoughts. You focus on the injustice of it all, the betrayal of the trust you put in them, on the suspicion that you are only the latest of who knows how many poor people they’ve violated and abused their power over. You have to stop them both for you and anyone else they have or will pull this sadist bullshit on! You fortify yourself and force yourself to speak, “You… you can’t just- “

Onyx steps forward, in an instant the dark is consuming you, on your knees like this the bastard and their shadow looms over you and denies you the warmth of the light they now eclipse. Even in the sudden darkness you can clearly see the dangerous glee gleaming all over their face. “Hm?” They cup their ear and lean towards you. “Does my weak little boytoy have something he wants to get off his chest?”

“Yes! I mean no! I mean- “

“Careful there big boy, don’t hurt yourself. We didn’t exactly invite you up here for your rhetorical prowess, dear.” They take another step closer, licking their lips while leaning towards you, “Not when you’ve got so much more prominent assets to offer.” Onyx firmly and confidently gropes your left pec in their hand, making you gasp. More laughter: you almost forgot there was an audience for them to humiliate you in front of. It’s so hard to get your words together around them. They make you feel foolish for even trying. Like you’re an idiot for even trying to say a word against them. The more they tower over you the harder it is to focus on anything but their words. You growl in frustration, and you tell yourself that you can’t let them treat you like this.

“But you can’t just do this to somebody! I have rights! You can’t-”

They tug on your left nipple with a cruel, excited grin. The painful tension in your sensitive flesh forces you back onto your feet. To your dismay, this reminder of your relative size doesn’t make this aura of power wane from them at all. How can they look just as in control beneath you as they do above you? “Why can’t I? What will you do? What could a weak little boy like you do to stop me?” You try to dodge the enormity of that question. You can’t let them get under your skin.

“This isn’t about what I’m doing. I’m so, so not okay with any of- “

They raise their hand, and you cease talking before you can stop yourself, “Answer the question, weakling: what will you do to stop me? Drool on me? Cry at me some more? Punch my lights out with all this dead weight?” They gingerly pick your left arm up by the wrist and hold it against their chin, pantomiming punching. “Go on. Use those big strong muscles. Shut me up! Really teach me a lesson!”

You consider doing just that as their taunting triggers a wave of fresh rage deep inside you, this little runt is just literally asking for a beating. Out of all the arrogant pricks you’ve had to confront in this line of work this motherfucker is by far the worst. Nothing would make you happier than seeing that pale white skin be marred by purple patches in the shape of your knuckles. Taking them down in front of everyone, showing them all you’re still not one to mess with. But … they seem so confident that it won’t help, it feels like a trap, you can’t trust your own body anymore. And you just… underneath the fury you’re so hurt. The views towards yourself that you built the foundation of your self-esteem on are in tatters. You don’t know if you can handle another round of humiliation right now.

“I… I…” You force the steel back into your voice, “I’m warning you. Back off.”

In the face of your threat, Onyx’s stream of sadistic words doesn’t let up for a second. “Then what are you waiting for you big brainless ape? Is swinging your fist yet another basic motor skill you lack? Gimme your best shot, dumbass. Really sock it to me. Ya know of all the weak-minded idiots I’ve put under you are by far the- “

That’s it. You can’t take it anymore. You tense and lift your massive arm, feeling your adrenaline surge as you-

Ow… fuck! What the fuck?!

You lose your balance and just barely right yourself before you hit the point of no return to the hard cold surface of the stage. You gasp and blink stupidly, you raise a palm to your right cheek and its sudden numbness. You flex your fists and feel the tell-tale ache of recent kinetic energy. The pain that arises immediately after inflicting it upon another. Or in this case… “No…no…”

They couldn’t have, it’s impossible! It’s-

“Wow, big guy you missed me by a mile!” The shine of victory that emanates from them stings more than your poor face. “Wanna give that another go?”

What… what do you even say to that? Before you can decide the bastard raises their fingers, “No don’t be shy, dear. I insist.”

In an instant you hear a sharp snap. The sound was followed immediately by the fleshy smack of your palm onto your very own face. “Oh god… please don’t do th- “

“Aww a swing and a miss! Let’s try again.”

Snap.

Smack.

In your daze, you want to tell yourself this can’t be real. That no one can actually wield this kind of power over someone else like this. But the sheer reality of the situation literally hits you in the face. You try to resist, to regain control but it’s like trying to wrestle water. The more you push and flex the harder the blow. Like your muscles are reacting to your struggle with equal force. As the numbness turns to stinging rawness, understanding begins to dawn. Your body does not belong to you anymore, and you can almost physically feel your entire world tilt onto a whole new axis.

“And again.”

Snap.

Smack.

You taste blood, your tongue explores and tastes iron as it glides over a gash on the inside of your cheek. Your teeth must have cut you when your cheek was bludgeoned against it. Under different circumstances you’d be proud of being able to create this much pain if need be. But now your own body, what you now realize has been the bedrock of your pride, has turned against you. The muscles you once thrilled in flexing as agents of your will were now flexing that same might against your own resolve. And you were very strong once. You don’t stand a chance to resist.

“Again.”

Snap.

Smack.

As the hands batter you, you can’t tell if the ringing in your ears come from your blows or from the raucous laughter that echoes through the room and your skull. Each impact makes you stumble just a bit more, just a bit more difficult to catch yourself each time. Your head swims and your feet falter in the herculean task of keeping yourself upright. Faces of mirth and sadistic glee spinning in your vision, you can vividly imagine how this must look from their perspective. You’ve seen people walk straighter after having been cut off from the bar than you’re holding up now.

“Again.”

Snap.

Smack.

White fills your vision each time. No longer merely having your power taken but having that power turned against you, becoming your own undoing. This strength that you’ve given so much sweat and passion to attain and make your own, the literal years of dedication and discipline. Has it really all been subverted, stolen, in less than an hour by some pretty words and a black gem? Your whole life you’ve put in so much… trust in your body, in your own ability to withstand and get you through anything. You feel wetness in your eyes, you know it’s irrational, but you can’t help the sense of betrayal coming over you. You can feel that pride, that sense of being able to manifest your own will into the world, drains away from you now like blood from a wound. You have no power now; it all belongs to Onyx.

Then again, if you could have that power stolen and used against you easily, were you really all that powerful to begin with? You can feel that thought break something in the deepest part of you.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Smacksmacksmacksmacksmacksmack

Whatever was broken now flows out of you, “Stop! Please! Please please stop! Please!” You blubber and wail. The sheer power of your cries makes your entire self shake and heave. You try to bring your hands to your eyes, but they recoil at the sensitivity in your whole face. Instead of covering your eyes you hover your fists above them, letting the tears be caught in the tools of your undoing.

“I give up! You win, okay?! No more… no more…”

They lift their fingers, “You’re missing something, dear.”

“Sir! I give up, Sir! You win, Sir! Please Sir…”

You hang your head, you’re exhausted.

A delicate finger lifts your chin.

Instead of the gloating grin you expected, a kind smile graces Onyx’s lips. The beautiful hypnotist raises their eclipse-black gem and flick their delicate wrists to make it sway, blinking through the tears you feel your eyes lock onto its gentle movement without any conscious input from you. “That’s it, you know just what to do. It’s time to seal the deal, sweet pet.”

As they speak and the gem swings you feel your mind begin to dim and grow fuzzy, “No… wait no I…p-please… I don’t want to be-“

“Shhhh, what you want isn’t part of the equation anymore, it doesn’t even factor. Your will is impotent, it no longer has the capability for you to exert the strength required to seize what you want. The only thing you can do is just follow. Follow the swing of the gem. Follow the sound of my voice. Follow my will wherever I may lead you.”

Your eyes lock onto the gem, following its sway. You can’t help but obey. The way they hold themselves, the way they speak, they’re just so magnetic. It didn’t even feel like you were choosing to do what they said. Onyx just says the word and you just can’t find it in you to do anything but exactly what they ordered. They’re just so… So, all consuming. Obeying feels like the only real option.

“Feeling your soft, weak mind yielding once again to my superior will. Each swing, each word, suppressing any lingering worries or resistance. The whole world narrowing to only my voice, my gem, my will. Succumbing completely and totally to the will of your Sir.” It’s incredible, Onyx just has to say it and it becomes so from no effort or input from you. Your fear started to loosen its grip on you, your body losing its tension. It’s not that you now think you have no reason to feel afraid, you know you do, but instead you simply…. don’t. Your mind is fixating completely on Ony… on… on Sir’s mesmerizing presence. Any ideas of resistance are quietly and thoroughly smothered, Sir is simply too powerful and you’re simply too powerless for you to do anything but completely comply with their will.

You wonder if this feeling was what you once wielded over people, from unruly patrons to fawning conquests. Like they were being forced into obedience by someone irresistible, greater than themselves. A part of you thinks so… but another part of you can’t imagine being as powerful as Sir is at this moment. And you’re so, so tired… you want this hurt to go away so you can rest. Sir is offering you just that. Demanding just that. And a part of you is certain they will demand that from you long after the show has ended.

Maybe… maybe this is the truth, the truest truth. Maybe this is all happening because Sir is strong and you’re weak. Too weak to fight them at least. As Sir’s hypnotic voice melts into your ears, as your eyes helplessly follow the sway of their enchanting gem, and the image of their powerful and irresistible self; their smirk, the arch of their eyebrow, the folding of their arms flashing within your consciousness’s eye all leading them to your new mind, new body, and new life. You realize that as strong as you once were, you were weak in all the ways that truly matter.