It was a little bit embarrassing to Joshua that he had a type. But it was a lot more embarrassing just how obvious it was to everyone else that he had a type, too. The man who walked up to Joshua apparently clocked his fascinated interest before he even said a word, looking down at Joshua's slim frame and wide, awestruck eyes with a confident smirk on his face that told not just Joshua but everyone in the whole bar that he knew exactly how this encounter was going to end.

"What's a little cutie like you doing in a place like this, hmm?" he asked, putting his hand on the back of Joshua's chair--not touching him, not actually violating his personal space, but making it clear that he considered such a thing very easy to do if he so chose. "Looks to me like you're a tiny bit soft for a big rough place like this. Did you get lost on your way to some chi-chi frou-frou place uptown? Or were you hoping you might find a big strong man to protect you and keep you safe?"

For a moment Joshua felt a little bit tongue-tied, uncertain whether the man's domineering attitude was a pose or an actual reaction to his presence in what was very clearly a leather bar without any of the traditional accoutrements of the scene. It was a little scary to realize he didn't know what he'd do if the stranger actually took offense--he easily outweighed Joshua by a hundred fifty pounds, a lot of it muscle, and Joshua suspected that if he stood up right now he'd barely come up to the other man's nipples. Which were visible under the loose leather vest he wore, along with a thick tangle of salt-and-pepper chest hair, and Joshua was painfully aware of his erection throbbing away between his legs as he stared.

Finally, it occurred to him to speak. "I... I guess I'm looking, um, for. For a big strong man. To keep me safe." It felt surprisingly difficult to get the words out, almost like he was so light-headed his thoughts were bobbing like a helium balloon a few inches above his actual brain; he'd daydreamed about something like this happening to him, about a powerfully-built stranger taking one look at him and deciding to simply overwhelm him with potent charisma and raw physical power, but it was one thing to masturbate in his apartment while listening to hypnosis files and quite another to actually take steps to make it happen.

A part of him still resisted the idea; in all of his fantasies, Joshua imagined himself being snared by a powerful hypnotist who recognized his vulnerability even before he did, emptying out his mind and his resistance without even giving him the chance to decide what he wanted. And even though there was a powerful allure to the notion of having that choice taken away from him, he'd probably be horrified if someone did actually try to hypnotize him against his will.

Probably.

But although there was no actual hypnosis involved, his was close enough to Joshua's daydreams to make him painfully hard. "That's exactly what I thought, boy," the man growled, moving his hand from the back of the chair to Joshua's shoulder in a firm but not painful grip. "My name's Burt, but you can just go ahead and call me Daddy if you want to. And I think we both know you want to, don't we?" Joshua could feel the fierce heat of a blush prickling at his hairless cheeks as he nodded.

The next thirty minutes were pretty much just a blur for him. Burt bought them both drinks--a thick, dark porter for himself and a pale pilsner for Joshua--but he barely even remembered tasting his. Burt's strong hands were all over him the entire time they drank, rubbing Joshua's erection through his slacks and settling the smaller man into his lap so he could play with Joshua's nipples through the thin fabric of his embarrassingly nebbishy polo shirt, and Joshua's last hope of changing the trajectory of the evening evaporated when Burt asked him what he was into and Joshua heard himself blurt out, "Um, hypnosis?"

Burt chuckled. "Not exactly my specialty," he murmured, his breath warm against the back of Joshua's neck. "But I've played around with it some, and I'm guessing a weak little boy like you isn't going to take much work to turn into a needy slut. Isn't that right, boy?" God, he'd never even bothered asking Joshua his name. It made him squirm with arousal to imagine that it didn't even matter.

By the time they left the bar, Joshua felt as though his feet weren't really touching the ground anymore. He felt as though he was dangling like a scruffed kitten from Burt's hand, not so much steered as carried out of the bar and down the three blocks to the taller man's apartment. He wasn't even sure if he was fully awake anymore; there was nothing Joshua recognized as a formal induction in their earlier conversation, but Joshua couldn't deny that his mind was intently focused on his rock-hard cock and the precum-soaked mess it had made of his briefs, and that seemed like a kind of trance even if it wasn't what he was used to from his files.

Burt lived on the fourth floor of a converted factory, in a studio loft accessed by a freight elevator that was so butch as to be almost pretentious but Joshua didn't care anymore. He couldn't, not when Burt physically lifted him off the ground and pressed him against the wall for a long, slow, steamy kiss while the car rattled and quaked its way up to the top--Joshua's feet were literally dangling off the ground, leaving him completely helpless in the taller man's grasp, and the sheer eroticism of the weakness he felt made him moan into the other man's mouth. "That's a good boy," Burt chuckled, breaking the kiss, and he straight up carried Joshua the last hundred feet or so to his bed.

That was when Joshua's memories started to, well... glitch. Again, it didn't feel like any kind of hypnosis Joshua knew about--he'd never experienced amnesia during any of the files he listened to, but enough husky-voiced dominants had suggested it to him in terms evocative enough that he at least understood what something like that sounded, and Burt wasn't saying anything like it. He was just murmuring, "Such a horny boy, such a needy little slut for Daddy," while his hands roamed all over Joshua's trembling body, and somehow Joshua's clothing wound up entirely absent from his body without any actual memory of how it happened.

Once Joshua was fully naked, Burt wrapped one meaty hand around the trembling submissive's erection and began to pump his fist up and down the shaft with an almost casual command of Joshua's pleasure. "You're going to tell me when you're close, aren't you, boy?" he asked, Joshua's cock almost seeming to disappear in that big, strong, powerful grip. "You're going to tell me, 'I need to cum, Daddy,' and it's going to make you so happy when I help you save that big hard spurt for later when you can really appreciate it." Joshua nodded, head swimming, and now he knew he was fully hypnotized even though he couldn't pinpoint any single moment when it happened. His whole mind was magnetized to the sensations coursing through his penis, and he couldn't even think about refusing Burt anything.

"That's it, such a good boy, good boys are so weak to big strong daddies," Burt growled, his fist every bit as relentless as his deep bass voice. "That cute little cock of yours feels so good when Daddy plays with it, doesn't it, boy?" he asked, and that was damn near the final straw for Joshua--it didn't sound humiliating, not when Burt said it. He didn't mean it to insult Joshua. It was just that he was so big, so strong, so powerful and confident that of course Joshua was lesser compared to him. Being inferior wasn't a bad thing, it was just an irrefutable truth.

That was when Joshua whimpered for the first time, "I need to cum, Daddy," but he already knew it wouldn't be the last. Not when it felt this good to mewl and whine in helpless arousal as the pumping fist came to an instant stop, leaving Joshua panting and gasping and trembling there on the bed. The only way it would be the last time was if Burt got bored with him, and Joshua was suddenly desperate for that not to happen.

Burt took a few moments to undress himself then, revealing a body as furred and hairy as Joshua's was smooth, and then he pushed Joshua back onto the mattress and began to caress his slender form until Joshua could feel his dick drooling all over his thigh. He could feel Burt's cock, too, pressing against him with a size and an urgency that was faintly terrifying--in all of Joshua's fantasies, he was the perfect bottom, fully able to accommodate any demand made of him, but in the real world he'd never gone much further than a couple of handjobs and some mutual masturbation and he wasn't sure if he was really ready for anything else.

But he really wanted to try. Honestly, he felt like he couldn't not want it; there was something so inevitable about Burt's dominance, so clear and natural and almost mythic in its proportions, that it felt like he'd be denying the very order of the universe if he didn't allow the bigger, stronger man to guide him down onto his knees on the rug in front of the bed to stare gape-mouthed at the massive prick in front of him. Truth be told, it wasn't really that long--it was perhaps six inches, maybe six and a half if they got out a ruler and took measurements. But it looked almost as big around as one of the beer bottles from earlier, and Joshua struggled to fit his lips around it.

Burt talked him through it, though, stroking his jaw until it went slack in mesmerized ecstasy and murmuring, "Just think about it, boy, just think about how good your first taste of Daddy dick is going to be," until Joshua's body leaned forward like the whole room was shifting to a different center of gravity and his tongue gradually lolled out of his mouth to flick at the droplet of precum dangling from the very tip. Once that happened, time and memory glitched again and before he knew it he was licking and slurping at Burt's cock and balls with an almost reckless abandon.

He didn't fit the whole thing in his mouth that night, and it didn't seem like he ever would; it seemed entirely possible that a human throat simply couldn't relax enough to guzzle a monster like that without choking. But Joshua did get his lips wrapped around the entire circumference of the girthy cock, and he sighed in blank, blissful contentment as Burt guided his head up and down the shaft in the mindlessly obedient blowjob of his dreams. Burt pulled out as he was cumming, decorating Joshua's face with semen, and it made him feel even more meek and small and joyfully submissive to be coated in the evidence of his surrender like that.

Thankfully, Burt didn't even try to fuck him in the ass, not even after his erection stirred back to full mast; instead he used his fingers, lubing up and penetrating Joshua with one hand while the other reached around to jack his needy cock. Joshua wound up whimpering, "I need to cum, Daddy," at least three more times over the course of the evening, and his climax finally hit when Burt took his hand away from Joshua's throbbing erection while he continued to relentlessly stimulate Joshua's anus until the cum spurted helplessly out.

That was when Joshua's mind and body finally went limp, exhaustion and drowsiness and fractionation all intermingling to leave the smaller man so worn out that he couldn't even speak. It came as an intense relief when Burt recognized his lethargic state, wrapping him up in his strong arms and spooning him as the two of them fell asleep together. Joshua didn't know if it was the beginning of something more... but if it wasn't, it was certainly everything he'd fantasized about.

THE END