As I’m sure I’ve established by now, when I swear at my beloved partner throughout the course of this story (and just in general), I’m not genuinely mad. My exclamation of “Oh, you fucker!” was, more than anything else, a knee-jerk reaction to the events of the past half hour. I now had all my memories back to normal - I knew I was Alyssa Johnson, I was 23 years old, and my birthday was August 13. I was born in Cotati but moved to LA four years ago, and I was a jobbing actor and a waitress. I remembered that Richard was my boyfriend of almost two years, and that he had been fucking with my brain in the most delightful way, both tonight and five days ago. Recalling my inability to remember these things amused the hell out of me then, and it’s amusing me right now too. Not to mention that time loop note, and my complete refusal to believe hypnosis was an actual thing.

More than that, I was also aware that there were things I still didn’t recall. My most recent memories were fairly cloudy, and though I was gradually recovering more and more fragments of them, they still only went up to him catching me and holding me in his arms. After that was an empty space, right up until “Oh, you fucker.” But I felt teased, embarrassed and bashful, a sensation that’s now familiar to me as the effects of being turned mindless and made to chant and reinforce submissive mantras. I felt confused and toyed with, like Richard had grabbed hold of my brain with both hands and been playing with it and reshaping it like clay, making the rest of me dance like a marionette on strings. And I felt so, so horny - hornier than I remembered being when I was a helpless amnesiac. So I was sure more had happened that I wasn’t aware of.

The fact that my bright red bra was dangling from his right hand was something of a giveaway.

As ever, my indignance had him almost falling on the floor from laughter. “Oh AJ,” he spluttered, wiping a tear from his eye. “Half the fun of this is watching you react like that...”

“I dunno what reaction you expected,” I said, shaking my head in exasperation. “I can’t believe you made me forget that I’d spent the last five days obsessing over being hypnotised!”

“What’s so hard for you to believe?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “The fact that I messed with your memories to that extent, or that I could?”

“Both,” I admitted, and I lightly punched him on the arm, provoking another chuckle. “You’re so mean to me. But also, wow - I was so sure hypnosis was complete and utter horse shit! I really had no idea... Fuck-a-doodle-doo, you could make me believe anything...” I raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “That seems dangerous!”

“Well, that’s not exactly the case,” he reminded me. “It’d have to be something your subconscious mind accepted. I couldn’t persuade you that you were an assassin and send you out to kill someone, because you wouldn’t do that...”

I snorted. “Depends who it is. Put a gun in my hand and put Donald Trump in front of me, and I’m probably gonna pull the trigger!”

“That makes two of us! But you know what I mean. Like I told you, the way this works, it’s like your subconscious and I are co-conspirators, playing an elaborate prank on your conscious mind. At least, that’s how hypnosis seems to work for you, because you find the idea of pranking yourself fun...”

“So you’re saying I should be mad at myself, not you?” I said wryly.

“Oh, you can be mad at me too,” he conceded, smiling.

“Deal,” I said immediately, smiling mischievously at him.

Tutting and smiling, he began walking back to the sofa, gesturing for me to follow him. “Come on, then.”

I trotted after him. “Hey, are you gonna give me my bra back? I’m feelin’ a little draughty in the chestal area...”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he replied, layering on the irony thick. He turned to face me and held the bra out to me. But as I approached him, he gave me that evil smile of his again.

I stopped in my tracks, my arm half-outstretched. “What?” I demanded. “What are you planning, mister?”

“Something that would’ve been a bit more difficult while you were walking, so thanks for stopping,” he replied. “Feet bound.”

“Oh, come on,” I cried, trying in vain to shift my glued-down feet. “This shit again?!”

He cackled. “Oh, this shit is just the beginning, my dear... Still want this, by the way?”

He dangled the bra in front of me. Glaring at him, I went to snatch it from him, but he yanked it out of reach. “Too slow!”

“You child,” I snapped, smiling despite myself. “Let me go, and give me my bra back!”

“Hmm. Which of those is a higher priority for you?”

“Fine, forget the bra. Just unstick my feet, you ass!”

Grinning, he began to dance around with the bra, waving it in the air in front of him.

I stared at him bemusedly, trying not to laugh at his antics. “Why? Just... why?”

“Ah, no reason. I’m just feeling groovy,” he said, winking at me as he continued to sway and swerve to imaginary music.

I groaned. “Jesus. What decade did you stroll in from?”

He laughed, moving in front of the sofa, which was now between him and me. Though with my feet bound, it wasn’t as if I could lunge at him - either to get my underwear back or to just stop the embarrassing dancing. “Still stuck?” he asked teasingly.

“‘Still stuck?’” I mimicked, in a mocking, ‘duh duh stupid’ voice. I tried to pull my left foot free of the carpet, and only succeeded in almost unbalancing myself, wobbling dangerously for a second or two.

“It seems like your problem is that you’re still trying to break free like the defiant snot you are,” he remarked.

I gasped in mock outrage. “How very dare you, sir!”

“I’m just saying, the more you move about and try to free yourself, the more likely it is that you’ll lose your balance and fall flat on your face - or your arse. Maybe I should remove that option...”

As he stroked his non-existent beard with a seemingly thoughtful expression, I gave him an exasperated stare. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking this, but what do you mean?”

“What I mean is - legs, bound. And what you find is, they’re stuck in that position. Rigid and frozen, like they’ve turned to stone.” He gave me that sadistic grin again.

He was right, of course. I tried moving my legs - bending or flexing them, or rotating them as much as I could with my feet stuck in place. But nothing happened. They felt numb, disconnected, as if they were no longer a part of my body. I couldn’t move them at all. I shot Richard a look of combined anxiety and amusement, struggling not to include the arousal I was starting to feel again, which had ebbed in the minutes since I’d got my mind back but was gradually returning as I found myself increasingly stuck.

“This is mean,” I said sulkily, pouting at him.

“Oh, so you’ve switched to whining since the bratty strategy wasn’t working out for ya?” he chuckled. “You thought I’d take pity on you?”

I gave him the finger, and then put my hands on my hips. “You’re gonna set me free, pal,” I said sternly, “or you’ll regret it later.”

The dominant, authoritative approach had no effect on him at all. In a sing-song voice, he said, “Hands bound!”

“I hate you. I hate you!” I tried as hard as I could to move my hands, but they remained in place on my hips. My elbows flapped like wings as I struggled, eliciting yet more laughter from my boyfriend. As my feeling of helplessness increased, so did my horniness, and I bit my lip to stop myself from making any noises that might reveal this to Richard.

“Nah, you luuurve me,” he teased, approaching me slowly. He reached out and stroked the side of my face, and I let him for a couple of seconds, enjoying the chills of pleasure that spread through me at his touch.

Then I gave him a baleful look and squirmed away, trying to get as far out of reach as I could. “Oh, do I? You dork...”

He raised an eyebrow and took a step closer. Now he could reach me easily, no matter what direction I moved (well, leaned, to be more accurate). “You must do,” he practically purred, “to let me toy with you like this. To let me use you as my plaything...”

Mmmmm. I shuddered happily at the sound of that word. But despite this, I was still determined not to give him absolute power. (Not yet, anyway.) As he went to caress my face again, I snapped my teeth in the direction of his outstretched index finger.

He withdrew it sharply, giving me a look of consternation. “Now we’re biting, are we?”

“I guess I have to!”

“Well, then I guess I have to do this,” he retorted. “Upper body, bound. Find that you can’t move anything below your neck any more - it’s all just frozen in place.”

I sighed resignedly as I felt my torso and arms stiffen in place. Not that I could move that much anyway, with my hands stuck to my hips. But now, if he decided to touch me anywhere, I couldn’t do anything about it. So fucking hot. Though my body was rigid, like a stone statue, I could still feel every sensation as clearly as ever - including the excited humming of my pussy, enjoying every moment that I was incapacitated. Ripples of arousal continued to spread across my body and make my most sensitive spots sing with delight, but I couldn’t react to them, other than by moving my head and face. A little whimper escaped my lips.

Richard grinned. “There, you see? You’re so much happier the more frozen you are, the more controlled you are. Why fight it?”

“Uhhh...” I said. That was meant to be a simple “Uh,” followed by a snarky reply, but it turned into a moan as I felt a wave of pleasure. I quickly covered by stammering out the words I meant to say next: “Be-because I’m an independent, strong woman who doesn’t take orders from anyone?”

“Well, yeah, of course you are. Usually.” He stepped closer, now only inches away from me, and put his hands on my shoulders, rubbing them gently with his thumbs. “But here, with me, you can let go of all that,” he said softly, starting to segue back into his hypno-voice. “You can let me have control, and not have to worry about anything. Not have to muster the energy to be stubborn, and opinionated. You can be someone else for a little while - someone who just does as she’s told, and doesn’t even think about the rest of the world... Doesn’t that sound nice?”

His tone, his words - they were making me feel spacey again. As he spoke, I found myself staring into space behind him, not even noticing whatever it was in the room that I was looking at. My mind felt like it was getting blank and empty again. “Uhm,” I mumbled in response to the question.

“Good girl.”

I gasped, closing my eyes as the arousal hit me - and finding that despite the intensity of the feeling, my body still didn’t move at all. Not a twitch. As I whimpered loudly, he let go of my shoulders and took a step back to admire me. Opening my eyes, I found myself saying, “Thank you, Master.”

He beamed. “Well, that was delightful,” he said, in his normal voice.

Finding full awareness coming back to me, I shook my head a little to dispel the fog. “Guh,” I groaned. “You just did a trancey thing, didn’t ya?”

“Well... kind of,” he admitted. “I didn’t put you back under, but you’re getting more and more susceptible all the time. All I had to do was talk to you for a bit, in the same kind of voice I use...”

“Your hypno-voice,” I said, provoking a chuckle from him. (And that’s the origin of that term!)

“Exactly. My hypno-voice. You seem to respond to it very well!”

“Right...” Remembering something else, I narrowed my eyes. “And did I call you ‘Master’? Like the other night, when you were making me chant all that stuff before you’d let me orgasm?”

“Yeah, I gave you a little trigger. You were only meant to respond to it when your mind was empty, but I guess it was empty enough just then...”

“Sure felt like it. Are you gonna let me go, now? I don’t wanna be a talking head forever.” I swung my head from side to side, to demonstrate that it was practically all the movement I could manage.

“Not just yet. First of all, remember how I can move things that are bound, like the other day when I moved your hand? Well, it works in this case too.” Stepping forward again, he took hold of my wrists and tugged my hands away from my hips. “Because right now, you’re very much like a plastic mannequin.” He lifted my arms up and out so they were hanging in the air vertically, though still bent at the elbows. “You can’t move on your own, but you can be moved...” He adjusted my right arm so that the forearm was pointing up. “And posed.”

“Oh, God. And what pose is this meant to be? Am I running away from something?”

“You do kind of look like it,” he nodded. “Although your head moving around is kind of ruining the pose. Neck bound.”

I had been looking from side to side, staring at my frozen arms. He caught me as I was turning my head to the left. Now, with only my face still capable of movement, I felt more helpless than ever.

God, it made me want to rub myself so badly.

Of course, I couldn’t, because I couldn’t freaking move. Ironic, huh? The very thing getting me so damn horny was also the thing stopping me from acting on it. It was torture. I tried to glare at Richard as he repositioned my head, turning it to the right so I faced the arm that was pointing upwards. But instead I found myself giving him a look of lustful longing, desperate for the buildup of arousal inside me to be released.

I saw him smile with satisfaction at my expression, but after that he pretty much ignored my face and concentrated on posing my body. He spent some minutes repositioning me, adjusting my arms, legs, head, torso and waist, putting me in a few different stances. Some were elegant and graceful, like statues of goddesses. Others were goofy - for instance he put me in a superhero pose, one hand on my hip and the other stretched out in the air with a closed fist. I kept up a running commentary of snark and mockery, naturally, while still doing the best I could to conceal how incredibly horny I was. (There was really no point me trying to hide it - he was clearly fully aware and loving it - but I still refused to admit it. I had a reputation as a stubborn brat to uphold!)

Finally he had me in a nice, simple pose he seemed to like. My left arm was straight down at my side, with my hand curled up and pointing inwards, brushing against my hip but not quite making full contact with it. My right arm, meanwhile, was draped over the top of my head, with the hand dangling down the other side. My head was angled slightly to the right.

Stepping back to admire his work, he grimaced slightly. “Almost perfect, but there’s still something missing...” he said slowly. Then he grinned. “Or something not missing.” Moving towards me again, he began to unbutton my shirt.

Though not-so-secretly pleased by this development, I rolled my eyes. “I was wondering when we’d get to this point...”

With the buttons undone, he moved my right arm out to my side to make it easier to get the shirt off. Which he did, slipping it smoothly over my shoulders and down my arms, and letting it drop to the carpet. I stood immobile, naked from the waist up with my arms stretched to the sides like I was imitating a plane. Then he moved them back into their previous positions. “Yes, this is definitely better,” he said gleefully, leaning down to admire my breasts.

“Gee, I wonder why you would think th-aaah,” I moaned, cut off mid-sentence as he licked my erect nipple. The left one, to be precise. As he continued to run his tongue and lips over it, alternating between licking, sucking and gently nibbling, his hand found my right boob and squeezed it. Closing my eyes, I softly and repeatedly cried out in delight, unable to form words around my ecstatic noises any more.

I was still gasping and moaning for a good few seconds after he stopped and stepped away from me again. I glared at him. “Firstly - not fair of you to take advantage of me when I’m stuck like this. Second of all - why’d you stop?”

He laughed. “Because I’m not done messing with you yet. Your resemblance to a mannequin is pretty good at this point - but not perfect...”

“I think I see where this is going!” I couldn’t help but laugh as the absurdity of the situation hit me for a moment. I have a lot of moments like that, even now - at least when I’m fully aware. From time to time I just think to myself, hey, my boyfriend’s slowly turning me into a statue and it’s giving me a massive lady boner. What the fuck is my life?!

“Face bound,” he said quickly, catching me mid-giggle. My expression froze, leaving me with a wide, fixed smile, my teeth showing and slightly parted. I could still move my eyes, but it was virtually impossible to convey my inner feelings without facial movement. Even a proper eyeroll was off the table - you have to be able to move the muscles above your eyes to let them roll up, and mine were paralysed.

However, I could still speak. Or at least, make semi-intelligible sounds. Good thing he didn’t freeze my face when my mouth was closed. “Y’re a j’rk,” I managed to grunt through my mad frozen grin.

“That’s probably true,” he smirked. He stepped towards me once more, raising his hand. I thought (hoped) he was going to caress me again, but instead he simply brushed a few stray strands of my unruly hair out of my face. Though that contact was intimate enough to send chills through me, I wanted more. For Christ’s sake, he had me completely helpless - what was he waiting for?

Extending his index finger, he held his hand in front of my face. “Follow the tip of my finger, Alyssa,” he said quietly. Any notion of disobeying him vanished as he moved his finger from left to right - I felt my eyes compelled to follow it. Back and forth, back and forth. I felt myself going spacey again - wow, this eye fixation stuff really fucks me up easily - but my body remained locked in place. Could I really go back into trance while still frozen and immobile?

Then he raised his finger and held it motionless in the air. I continued to stare at it, my eyes looking almost as far up as they could go.

“Eyes bound,” he said, “and now I can move my finger, but your eyes remain fixed.” And he removed his hand from my line of sight. I tried to follow it with my eyes, but... yeah, you guessed it. I couldn’t. They remained stuck, staring up and ahead, like a doll’s glass eyes.

“How are you feeling right now, AJ?” I heard Richard say from somewhere to my left.

“St’ck,” I replied. “R’g’d. C’n’t do anyth’ng...”

I felt him move my arms into a new position, with my right hand resting daintily against my chest and my left arm stretched out to my side. He then took hold of my face, his hand covering my still-smiling mouth (uhnf, so hot), and angled my head slightly further to the right. Then back round to the left. Then right. Then left. My frozen eyes had no choice but to move with the rest of my head, my vision tracing back and forth across the ceiling.

After maybe twenty or thirty seconds of this, he let go of my face. Then I felt his fingertip stroke my lower lip (mmmm) and prise my jaw slightly open, turning my petrified toothy grin into an open-mouthed laugh. “That’s so hot,” he breathed.

Agreed. 100% agreed. “’u’ ’ou.”

“What a sweary statue! Well, we can’t have that. Voice bound.”

My God, it’s so hard to describe how it felt. Not only was I completely frozen, I now couldn’t make so much as a squeak. My already severely limited power of speech was completely gone. I couldn’t look around. I couldn’t change my facial expression - I couldn’t even widen my eyes. All I could do was breathe, blink occasionally, and think about how helpless I was. And feel, of course. My petrified body was still just as sensitive as ever, if not more so.

And now, at last, Richard took full advantage of that, running his hands across my flesh. His fingers were everywhere, caressing all over me, across my mouth, chin and neck, my breasts, my inner arms and sides, slipping under my shorts and stroking my hips, my thighs, my ass... Finally they found my pussy, which they explored eagerly, quickly getting soaked in my juices. I can’t believe I didn’t let out any moans or whimpers, but I didn’t - I was still completely mute.

“The longer you stay stuck,” he whispered in my ear, breathing heavily from excitement, “the more comfortable you feel - the longer you can stay frozen. You could stay this way for hours... Frozen like a mannequin, my mannequin, my plaything...” Ohhhh, that word! “My toy, to do with as I please... You’re such a good toy, AJ. But good toys don’t think... So AJ, your mind is bound.”

And just like my body, my mind froze, emptying completely just like before. My last conscious thought was barely coherent - if I had to try to write it down, it’d be something like mmmfuuuckohhhgodyeeesss... Not eloquent, but heartfelt.

“Thoughtless and frozen,” came my boyfriend’s soft, delectable hypno-voice. “A mindless mannequin. A perfect plaything. Good girl.”

Thank you, Master. The phrase drifted through my empty mind, but had no way to escape with my mouth and voice frozen. It soon evaporated, but its strong effect on my nether regions lasted longer.

“Any time I say ‘freeze’, you will freeze like this, becoming a mindless mannequin. When I say ‘unfreeze’, you will be free to move and think again, with no awareness of anything I did with you while you were frozen - you might not even realise you were frozen. And I can give you suggestions while you’re frozen, and you’ll act on them when you’re free to move again. If I say ‘mannequin girl’, however, your body will freeze, but your mind will remain aware, and your voice will still work.”

Stepping behind me, Richard put one arm across my chest, gripping me under the armpit. Then he put another between my legs, the palm of his hand firmly on my crotch. And he lifted.

Look at him, and you wouldn’t think he had any upper body strength at all. The man gets winded by carrying a couple of big books at once. (I kid, but my point stands - the dude is not strong.) However, at this moment, he harnessed a reserve I wasn’t aware he even had, and raised me into the air like I was a pillow. I’m convinced his horniness bestowed him with super-strength. He carried me bodily in this undignified position - holding me like I really was a mannequin, just an object, not a person (fucking hot) - to the sofa, manoeuvring around and in front of it. Then he plonked me down in the middle of it. I half-sat, half-lay there, my right arm draped across the seat, my left hand still resting on top of my boobs, my legs wide apart, my eyes staring into nothingness.

“You will remain in this state,” he told me, as he moved both my arms out so they hang suspended in the air in front of me, palms facing inwards, “until I use the word that usually frees you when any part of you is bound.”

Though I couldn’t think, some part of me realised what was about to happen, as I felt him tug my shorts and panties down to my ankles. My exposed pussy grew even more excited (which I didn’t realise was even possible) as he stood in front of me and undressed himself.

I’m sure you yourselves have figured out what’s coming (pun very much intended). As I lay on the couch (oh, hey, I can call it a couch again), I felt him ease inside me. What followed was, if anything, even more bizarre than our previous hypno-fucking session, when I was tied up with my eyes stuck shut and my mouth locked open. At least that time I was aware of what was happening and could react to it - this time I was blank and mindless, oblivious to my boyfriend thrust in me with gradually increasing speed. Though my body felt what was happening and grew hornier and hornier, it had no way to express it in its frozen, muted state.

At least, until Richard blurted a single word amidst his frenzied grunts: “Release.”

All at once a tidal wave of arousal hit me, as I ‘woke up’ in an unexpected position midway through sex. I had no memory of being brought to the couch. I had no memory of my lower half being undressed. And I had no memory of us fucking. I cried out in surprise and ecstasy, suddenly about three times as horny as I remembered being, close to the brink - it was all so much all of a sudden...

“Le-lu-lemon, lemon,” I babbled into his ear.

I felt him decelerate to a stop. He raised his head, which had been nestled against my neck, and gave me a concerned look. “You OK? You need a break?”

“I - I’m good,” I panted. “This just... took me by surprise.” I swallowed hard. “And actually I could use something to eat and drink, quickly...”

“Yeah, OK, sure!” He pulled out as gently as he could, causing a moan from each of us. “Um, oops,” he muttered.

Wiping my sweat-coated brow, I cast my eyes over him, and entirely failed to suppress a giggle. “Aw, has someone had an accident?”

“It was the pulling out that did it,” he admitted. “I was already so close...”

“Me too,” I replied. “Easing back down now, though. Might need a little while before I’m ready to ramp it back up again.”

“Fair enough. We can do other hypno stuff in the meantime, if that’s OK with you?”

I nodded my eager assent. As he did his best to mop himself up (with the aid of a box of tissues that we’d left on the coffee table for just such an incident), I trotted through to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, drinking half in one gulp, which I then refilled just in case. Then I made myself a ham half-sandwich (basically I got one piece of bread, buttered it, slapped two thin slices of ham on it, and then folded the bread over). I had almost finished it by the time I re-entered the lounge.

Richard was fully dressed again by now, which made one of us. I was still naked and relatively unbothered by it (though I was being extra careful not to spill my water). “What you eating?” he asked.

“Ham sandwich,” I replied nonchalantly, placing my water on the coffee table.

“Not chicken?”

I gave him a bemused look as I finished the sandwich and sat back down on the couch. “I never have chicken sandwiches as a snack. Why would I buh-kawk!” I clapped my hands over my mouth in shock, eyes wide as saucers.

Richard struggled to suppress his obvious amusement as he leaned forwards, gesturing to his ear. “Erm, beg pardon, AJ? I didn’t quite catch the end of that sentence,” he said with a smirk.

I collapsed backwards on the couch, overcome with helpless laughter - only to interrupt myself with, “Buck, buck, bawk!” Wiping tears of mirth from my eyes, I struggled to sit up again and tried to glare at Richard, but I had absolutely no hope of composing a straight face. “You - what did you - buck - oh, no!” I buried my face in my hands. “Not this!”

He sat and watched gleefully as I tried to calm myself down again, which was not easy given my intermittent clucking or his own giggling. I struggled to verbalise an indignant response. “Why would you bawk - stop it, no bawk - this is bawk - fuck,” I spluttered.

“Having some trouble there, AJ?” he taunted. “What’s going on with you?”

“You know perfectly bawk well what’s going on, you fuh-kawk!”

“What did you just call me?” he snorted. “A fuck hawk?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s you, you’re a fuck hawk!” We both got the giggles for a little bit after that, punctuated and exacerbated by my clucking.

I gradually noticed that whenever I wasn’t shouting loud ‘bawks’ and speaking normal English - or rather, trying to - I was making smaller, lower-pitched clucks, keeping up a slow background rhythm of “Buck buck buck...” Around the same time my arms started feeling kind of awkward and uncomfortable, and started trying to move them into a more natural position - only to find they felt most pleasant when I put my hands on my hips, extended my elbows, and swung them back and forth. “Buck buck, buck, buck...” I glared at Richard. “Oh, dude, now I bawk - now I have wings, too?”

“It appears so!” He grinned. “Seems like you’re kind of... transforming.”

“Buck, buck - into a fucking bawk chicken?! Buck, buck-buck...” I wanted to punch him in the arm to get rid of his satisfied smile, but my hands felt like they had fused to my hips. So instead I tried to attack him with my new wings, swinging an elbow wildly at him with a cry of “Buh-kawk!”

“Wow, OK,” Richard exclaimed as he jumped to his feet to dodge me, “you’re not a battle chicken!”

“I think that’s bawk my decision! Buck, buck, buck-buck, buck, bu-buck...”

Richard watched with amusement as, feeling the need to move my legs, I struggled to my feet (not easy when you would usually use your arms to push yourself up or maintain your balance and they’re busy flapping uselessly). I kept trying to glare at him, but I felt anything intimidating about me was fast disappearing as my chicken transformation progressed. I felt myself start to hunch over, my legs bending at the knees, my right foot rubbing absent-mindedly along the carpet.

“If I had bawk known this was bawk was gonna happen, buck, I’d’ve just let you f-bawk fuck me! Buck-buck, buck...”

“You seem to be pretty close to fully transformed by now,” he remarked.

“Buck, buck - buck you,” I blurted, laughing helplessly. It was so hard to speak normally now. “Buck buck, buck buck, buck...”

“Problem is, you’re still trying to fight it, which just seems to be making you uncomfortable. If you give in to the change, you’ll find it feels so much better. Just let go of your human thoughts, your human words, and let yourself become a happy, vacant chicken...”

Damn his hypno-voice. I found my head bobbing up and down in response to his words, still clucking rhythmically and flapping my wings. I realised that actually it did feel kind of nice - the chicken mannerisms felt more and more natural, more a part of me. It felt good. Well, better than all the bratting and protesting and talking, anyway. That was so human. I giggled around my clucking as I thought that. I was still aware that I was a human - or at least I had been - but that seemed less and less desirable by the second. Being a chicken was so much easier, so much more comfortable.

I started strutting around the room, swerving around a little wildly on my bent legs, barely paying attention to where I was going. In my peripheral vision I saw objects like the couch, the armchairs and the coffee table, and I managed to steer away from them, but other than that it didn’t seem to matter where I went or what I did. My own ceaseless clucking didn’t really register any more, it was just background noise. I was dimly aware of Richard and felt a little surge of affection towards him - on some level I knew who he was, but my relationship to him didn’t feel like romantic partners any more. How could it? I was a chicken, and he was a human. Think of the children!

No, he felt more like my owner - like I was in a farmyard, and he was the farmer. That feeling of ownership - of being his pet, his property - increased as he approached me, put his arm around me to interrupt my stumbling walk, and started to pat and stroke me gently on the head. I closed my eyes, my wings and legs trembling delightedly at his touch.

I heard him speaking, but I didn’t consciously understand his words. Lucky for him, because I’d probably have thumped him. “You’re a good chicken, AJ. I reckon you’ll make a really delicious chicken sandwich one day.” He couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing after he said that. “Too weird, too weird! OK, Chicken Little, you probably already know this, but chickens are really easy to hypnotise - more so than humans. So logically, you’ll be even easier to hypnotise as a chicken than you were as a human...”

As I stared at the floor and continued to cluck mindlessly, he guided me back towards the couch and stood me in front of it. I let him do so without any resistance, because I’m a really well-behaved chicken who’s never even heard the word ‘resistance’, and definitely wouldn’t know how to spell it. Stepping in front of me, he raised his index finger in front of my face.

“Follow my finger, Alyssa,” he told me. Just like earlier, I felt my eyes drawn to his fingertip, following it as he slowly waved it back and forth in front of me. “And find it lulling you back down so easily, making you feel so entranced and sleepy...”

My eyelids started to droop, and my wings slowed their compulsive flapping. My clucking started to die down gradually as I felt myself growing more and more tired, until it started to become a real effort to continue. “Buck, buck... buck... buuuck...”

As I watched, he snapped his fingers, and at the same time said, “Sleep.”

My eyelids slammed shut, and I dropped like a stone back onto the couch - back into a hypnotic sleep.

At the edges of my consciousness, I could hear my boyfriend laughing at me. What a fuck hawk.