“OK, no peeking,” I teased.

Jelly Doll threw up its hands exasperatedly. “It kinda can’t peek, as you well kn-aagh!”

Never one to miss an opportunity to screw with either of us, Richard had seized its raised arms by the wrists and lifted them still higher, their elbows bent into right angles. Just as any of its body parts did when we posed them, they fixed in place, suspended in the air above it. “Great,” it fumed, its arms now just as stuck as its shut eyelids.

Exchanging a smirk with my merciless Master, I scurried out of the living room, only to return moments later, pushing its present before me. “Alright, Jelly, you can open ’em!” I giggled.

Since it very well couldn’t, Jelly just huffed quietly. It was tempting to leave it blindfolded, and enjoy its helplessness for a while longer - but I did really want to give it its gift.

‘But what kind of gift?’ I hear you ask. Well I, your humble purveyor of smutty anecdotes, can exclusively reveal that it was an anniversary gift. Two years to the day since Jelly started dating us, and we became America’s hottest power throuple. We’d already done ‘normal’ presents that morning - books, mostly, because we’re all giant nerds - and we were going out for a meal at a nice restaurant that evening. But in the meantime, we had a few naughtier gifts to dispense...

Although mine was really more of a practical present, that just happened to tie in with our kink lifestyle. Reaching out to its face, Richard gave Jelly Doll another stroke between its eyebrows, this time upwards rather than downwards. Flicking open, its eyes rolled for a second, before settling into place and focusing on the object before it. It inhaled sharply, its cheeks reddening. I bet it would’ve put its hands over its face, if they weren’t still floating over its head.

“Ohhhh, man,” it mumbled bashfully. “Jelly Doll thought you were kidding about this!”

“I never joke about useful equipment,” I said solemnly, and then snorted.

Laughing along with me, Jelly stepped forwards, its frozen arms wafting along above it, to get a closer look at the aluminium L-shaped hand trolley. An unusual anniversary gift, I’ll give you that, but useful, like I said. We did have a couple of heavy objects we needed to move around the house pretty regularly - like a living fucktoy, for instance.

Its eyes flickering over to meet mine, it blushed harder at the sight of my broad grin. I knew exactly how much this was flustering it, and turning it on. It drove it nuts when we moved it around the apartment against its volition - when Richard picked it up and carried it, or when we used its wind-up key to make it march uncontrollably in whichever direction we wanted. It found the idea that it couldn’t travel on its own - that it needed us to take it everywhere, because it was just a static object - hugely hot. This new purchase was just ramming the point home even harder. Even if I couldn’t see the evidence for myself (and I could, having casually stripped it nude twenty minutes ago), I’d have known it was dripping wet right now.

The doll studied the hand truck a little longer, its gaze tracing the adjustable nylon straps dangling from its metal frame. “W-will this even take its weight?” it stammered softly.

“Oh, easily, babe,” I said smoothly. “It’s the heavy-duty kind - it could probably take your display case’s weight, never mind you. Plus it’s foldable!” I patted the trolley on one of its handles. “So we can even take it other places, like the next hypno con. I bet the others’ll love to see us carry you around on it. Maybe take you for a ride on it themselves...”

It bit its lip, its eyes misting over at the mental image I’d painted. “Well, uh, it guesses it saves Richard having to carry Jelly Doll around all the time!”

He chuckled. “I didn’t mind that, to be fair.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not getting any younger,” I sniggered. I hunched my back a little, mimed holding a walking stick, and said in my most exaggerated ‘old person’ voice, “We gotta look after your back, old man!”

“God almighty,” he groaned.

“So it’s more of a gift to him than anything else,” Jelly tittered.

“Well, kinda,” I admitted. “Think of it as, like, an accessory. Something we bought to go with our toy. Sure, we’ll be using it, but it belongs with you.”

“Aaaah...” Again it came over all adorably flustered, still unable to hide its face from us. “W-well, thank you very much, Alyssa, for its very lovely present. You’ve made it very grumphappy. Where’d you even get it?”

“You’re welcome,” I giggled. “And just Home Depot.”

There was a sort of choking snort from Richard’s direction. We both turned to look at him as he stared at me in disbelief. “What did you just say?!”

I gave him a double take. “What d’you mean, what did I just say? I said I got it at Home Depot.”

He shook his head in bewilderment, slowly dissolving into laughter. “It’s not - you’re having a laugh - it’s not pronounced ‘dee-poh’!”

“Um, yeah, it is, actually!”

“It’s - it’s ‘deh-poh’!”

“It’s definitely not...”

“‘Dee-poh’ sounds deep-ly silly!”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, sure, ’cos ‘dehhh-poh’ sounds super smart. It’s not called Home Deh-poh!”

“Well, it bloody well should be!”

I squared up to him, my hands on my hips. “Uh, no, Brit Boy, I don’t bloody well think so!”

“OK, Jelly Doll senses another classic ‘English versus American’ argument approaching,” Jelly sighed long-suffering. “You can never not take the bait, can you, AJ?”

“He started it,” I defended myself with an ironic grin, before shooting another defiant look at my British boyfriend. “Can’t believe you’ve been living in this country for so long and never heard that before.”

“Can’t believe I’ve never hypnotised you to pronounce things properly,” he smirked.

“I am pronouncing things ‘properly’, you ass!” I spluttered, immediately taking the bait once again. “You’re in America, these are the proper pronunciations!”

“You speak English! From England! That means the English pronunciation is right! We tell you how to pronounce things, damn it!” he shouted in mock outrage.

“Not since 1776, you don’t.”

He had no response to that, and probably couldn’t have anyway, he was now laughing too hard. So was I, to be honest.

Once we’d composed ourselves again, he turned to Jelly and asked, “D’you wanna try out your present, then, doll?”

Gulping, it nodded eagerly. “Yes please. Very much.”

Not needing any prompting, I wheeled the trolley around behind it, while he bent down and adjusted Jelly’s legs, pressing them together. Then he wrapped an arm around its torso and tilted it forwards slightly, enough that I could slide the bottom of the cart under its feet. He gently lowered it back down again, so its soles were planted on the metal plate and its back was resting against the frame behind it.

We set about buckling the straps across its body - under its armpits and over its chest, across its belly, around its rigid legs - and cinching them tightly enough to keep it from falling off the trolley. “How is it, Jel?” I asked.

“A little cold!” it giggled, shivering at the cool steel against its bare back and butt. “But not bad.”

“Straps OK, not too tight?”

“No, they’re fine. It feels very... safe.”

“Safe and secure,” I teased, giving each of its tits a possessive grope. “Our precious cargo.”

It whimpered softly, and then let out a squeak as Richard suddenly tilted the trolley and started to roll it across the carpet. “Oh, wow,” it gasped, as it was powerlessly propelled across our living room, lying at an angle on the aluminium hand truck, held in place by the tight straps, its paralysed arms still splayed out above it.

Richard drove it around in no particular direction for a while, just letting it get used to its new mode of transport. I trotted alongside them, taking great pleasure in the thunderstruck expressions on my fucktoy’s face. “Having fun there, babe?”

“This is awesome,” it sighed rapturously. “Oh, Master, please could we go to Jelly Doll’s room? It wants to give Alyssa her gift now.”

“Ooh, yes please.” I clapped my hands together excitedly. “Alyssa wants her gift now. Let’s do that. Present time for Alyssa.”

Chortling, he obliged, turning the trolley and pushing it towards the entrance to the corridor that led to our bedrooms. Following close behind, I caught sight of a knowing smirk on his face. I could guess why. The hand trolley had been my gift to Jelly, my idea, but he’d known about it - I’d discussed it with him and got his input. I imagined the same would be true of Jelly’s present for me, and Old Man Fuck Hawk was enjoying his foreknowledge.

We soon reached Jelly’s room - used more for storage than anything else, since it usually slept in the main bedroom with us. Seeing a large blue gift bag sitting on the bed, I shot a look at the living doll, who nodded encouragingly as Richard set it down just inside the doorway. “Go ahead. It’s not like it can hand it to you right now!”

Darting forwards, I picked up the bag and peered inside. My eyes went wide.

“No way,” I blurted, hurriedly fishing out the contents. “You actually found one? I’ve been looking everywhere!” Clutching my present in one hand, I ran back over to Jelly and gave it a kiss, and another titty squeeze. “Thanks, doll!”

“You’re welcome,” it chuckled.

I gazed, enthralled, at the item in my hand. “Hell, yeah,” I muttered gleefully. “I’m gonna look so hot wearing this. I know you don’t know much about fashion,” I said to Richard, “but Jelly and I know, these kinds of hats are really popular right now.”

“Yeah, they’re so in,” Jelly said, its mouth twitching as it fought to suppress a laugh. “All the hottest people wear them. Plus, it got one in your size, AJ - it should fit like a glove.”

“I’d rather it fit like a hat,” I joked as I placed the tall white conical cap on my head, making sure to position it so the ‘DUNCE’ written vertically along its length was at the front. True to Jelly’s word, it was a fairly perfect fit. The danger with these hats was that it was very easy for them to either fall off or slip down in front of your eyes if they weren’t the right size. It was a difficulty that only added to their exclusivity - anyone could wear a dunce hat, but only the most stylish people, with the most elegance and poise, could wear them well.

(I’m sighing loudly even as I write this. Just when I think Fuck Hawk’s run out of ideas... It was Jelly who bought the hat, to be clear, but it was Richard who rewired my brain so I thought it was très chic. Honestly, I wouldn’t look much more ridiculous if I did wear a glove on my head, like the fucking penguin from Wallace and Gromit - at least he’s smart. Even after all this time, it always surprises me how he can make me look, and act, so stupid - and how eagerly my pliable mind helps him do it...)

Once I was satisfied my trendy new headgear was snugly perched on my silly little head, I slid my phone out of my pocket. “Let’s go back in the living room so I can take some selfies, the lighting’s better in there,” I told my partners, already moving towards the door. “Oh, hold on.” Pausing, I yanked my shorts and panties down, carelessly kicking them off my ankles. “I can’t be wearing anything on my lower half with the hat on,” I told them matter-of-factly, utterly failing to notice their amused, aroused expressions. “Ruins the effect.”

Then I strolled back out into the corridor, my dark blue shirt fluttering around my waist, one hand clutching my phone, the other held up slightly just in case my sexy new hat lost its balance and I had to catch it.

Richard wheeled Jelly along behind me, the pair of them tittering quietly. Missing the joke, I just assumed they were ogling my bare ass. (Which, to be fair, they also were.) I slowed my walk to give them a brief little curtsey without turning round, pinching and pulling out the hem of my shirt like a skirt.

Richard parked Jelly in the corner as we re-entered the living room. “Is that better, using the trolley?” I asked. “Is it helping your back, old timer?”

“Shut up,” he laughed.

“Don’t get mad, you gotta watch your blood pressure.” I gave him a look of mock concern. “Do you need me to get you your meds? Maybe your walker?”

“I am so gonna squish you.”

I gave him my most adorable, infuriating smile. “Bring it.”

Being a dick, he brought it. ‘It’ in this case being his index finger, to which my eyes were instantly magnetised, following it as he swayed it from side to side. My mouth fell open, my thoughts, awareness and brattiness trickling out and down my shirt.

“Tell me it’s pronounced ‘deh-poh’,” he said with a snide little laugh.

“It’s pronounced ‘deh-poh’,” I murmured obediently.

“Tell me I’m always right about everything.”

“You’re always right about everything, Master.”

“Tell me you need to stop being a brat, and do as you’re told.”

“I need to stop being a brat and do as I’m told.”

“Tell me you’re a dumb little dunce and you need to obey.”

“I’m a dumb little dunce and I need to obey.”

“Good girl. And when you wake up, you’ll only be able to pronounce it ‘deh-poh’. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master...”

With a snap of his fingers, I was back in the room. Wiping my drooling mouth, I gave him a baleful look. “Just ’cos you did that, doesn’t mean you win.”

“Course not,” he smirked. “Hey, what was that shop called again? Where you got Jelly’s trolley?”

“Home Deh-poh.” I did a double take at my own pronunciation. “Home Deh- Home D- Deh- Duh- Fuck. You’re such an ass,” I spluttered.

I could hear Jelly Doll guffawing from across the room, still securely strapped to its trolley.

“That’s another one we could do, to be fair,” Richard remarked, his smug smile growing wider and wider. “Make you say ‘arse’ instead.”

“Oh yeah, ’cos that’ll sound great coming outta my mouth. Such an arse,” I pronounced, exaggerating my native accent even as I said the very British word. “See, it just doesn’t fit! ‘Ass’ works so much better.”

“I actually agree with you. I like ass. Particularly yours.”

“Perv.” I waved my phone at him. “I’m gonna go take some selfies.”

“Send them to me.”

“I’ll stick ’em in the Discord.”

And off my dumb ass thundered to the other side of the room, where the lighting was best, to prepare some unsolicited evidence of my own humiliation for our hypnokink homies.

Meanwhile Richard collected the hand cart, and its helpless cargo, from the corner. “My turn to hand out presents,” he announced. Jelly make an enthusiastic little hum as he wheeled it past me, over to its display case. I paused to watch as he swung the see-through plastic door open, observing Jelly’s face as it gasped with delight at the sight of its gift.

“You like?” he grinned, stepping behind the trolley again.

“It does,” it exhaled, its head nodding forwards as if trying to reach the case and its contents, its body still held back by the trolley’s straps and its own hypnotically-conditioned paralysis. “It’s gonna look so hot on that. Now you’ll get to see all of it while it’s frozen. It’ll be totally on display...” It licked its lips with anticipation.

“Exactly,” he breathed in its ear, his hands roaming over its torso. “A proper display dolly, with every part of you, every angle, on show.” One hand began to undo the buckles down its front. “Propped up on your doll stand, slowly rotating in place.” The other fondled its chest, rolling its nipples between finger and thumb, making it whimper and moan softly. “Fully unveiled, fully exposed, our perfect ornament...” Jelly didn’t even seem to notice its straps had been undone, with the hand responsible now between its legs, fingering its slick crevice. “Laid bare before us, naked and helpless, letting us admire every inch of you...” It couldn’t have moved anyway, immobilised from the neck down as it was, and all its attention was on the circular white platform on the floor of the lifesize toy box. “Oh, it’s going to make it feel so much better when you obey and display.”

“Jelly Doll must obey and display,” it said automatically. Able to move at last, if only to follow its long-term trigger, it stepped fluidly off the trolley, its arms finally falling to its sides, and stepped into its display case. Turning to face outwards again (even though it didn’t necessarily have to any more), it settled itself onto its one bar prison and promptly froze in a provocative pose, the fingers of one hand grazing its inner thigh, the other reaching up to its face to brush its lips, its eyes fixed forwards in a smouldering stare.

Richard reached down and picked up a remote lying in the corner of the case. “Let’s take you for a spin,” he grinned, obviously unable to resist the pun. Without further ado, he switched on the turntable, and the rigid toy began to slowly revolve on the spot, its pose and gaze unwavering as the mechanisms beneath its feet slowly twirled it around in an endless circle.

“Good toy,” Richard effused. “And every turn takes you deeper, makes you blanker, spaces you out more... Every turn, turns you into even more of a perfect poseable doll. Just a toy. Just a toy. Just a toy...”

A low moan escaped my mouth, and I realised I’d been rubbing my exposed ripple, unable to stop myself as I admired my living toy on its new platform. Making an effort to regain control of myself, I returned my attention to my phone and resumed taking sexy selfies. Or at least, I thought they were sexy. Obviously my outfit made me look like a total dumb-dumb, and on top of that my eyes had the tendency to cross or roll back, and my tongue hung out to various degrees, droplets of drool dripping unheeded onto my navy blue shirt.

Now obviously, that is sexy. But it wasn’t quite what I had in mind at that moment. Then again, my mind hadn’t been my own for over three years at that point, so it didn’t really matter what I had in mind. I just knew I felt hot, wearing a towering dunce cap, a shirt and nothing else, posing and derping for the camera as I took photo after photo of myself.

And oh my God, I took so many. And I put all of them on the Discord server, later. And then I died of cringe once I finally came to my senses (which still wasn’t for a good long while yet). My brain is such a traitor!!

Richard stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he glanced back and forth between his two brainwashed girlfriends, admiring us unabashedly. I paid him no attention, too busy making peace signs and coquettish ahegaos at my phone camera, raising it high and angling it down to include my new hat and my nude lower half as best I could.

Once in a while I paused to glance over at Jelly Doll, relishing the sight of its petrified body uncontrollably twirling in place. True to Master’s words, it did seem to become even more of a static statue - to grow more solid, more still, more stone - as it slowly spun around and around. Its objectifying predicament was erasing any lingering sentience left inside its hollow head. There was no trace of consciousness behind its eyes, no spark of thought - but the juices trickling down the metal pole between its legs gave away how much it was loving every moment of this.

Who can blame it? It’s only (a plastic facsimile) human.

“That was a worthwhile investment,” Richard beamed, closing the lid on the rotating toy. “It ought to get a lot of use outta that.”

“It does seem to be enjoying itself,” I mused, and then shot him a wry grin. “So where’s my gift from you, huh?”

“Oh, yours is a suggestion I gave you to tie in with Jelly’s present,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s working on you at the moment, actually. I kinda set it up like the reverse of the way the Silence work, in Doctor Who...”

“Of course there’s a Doctor Who connection,” I sniggered.

He gave me a snide look. “Basically, whenever you see that hat, or wear it, you think it’s the height of fashion, and you want to wear it for as long as possible and show it off to everyone - and you think you’re meant to be naked from the waist down while you’re wearing it. But as soon as you put it away - once it’s out of your sight - you’ll come to your senses, and realise exactly how humiliating it is to parade around in a dunce cap.”

I snorted with disbelief. He was so full of shit. There was nothing humiliating about a dunce cap, obviously. I guessed he could make me think there was, the same way he could make me think wearing clothes at all was embarrassing to get me to take them off. (Which he had in fact done, a couple of times.) But in that moment, I knew for certain that dunce hats were super stylish, and suited me perfectly. (Which, at least that last part was true...)

“Even if that were true, and you weren’t just screwing with me, it’d mean you spent a bunch of money on Jelly’s new spinny stand, and completely cheaped out on my present,” I teased him. “Hypnosis costs nothing, buster.” (To be honest, this didn’t matter to me at all, as he well knew. I just couldn’t resist pointing it out.)

“That’s actually not true, I have to pay for my hypnosis licence. A hundred dollars a month to brainwash beautiful ladies like yourself into my powerless playthings.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” I nodded, smirking. “Otherwise the Grand Hypnosis Council will confiscate your trancey powers.”

“Exactly,” he nodded, deadpan. Then he laughed. “Actually the Grand Hypnosis Council is a cool idea. I should do something with that.”

“You kinda already did, getting together a bunch of kinksters on Discord,” I remarked, idly adjusting my hat. “And folks like Hailee and Miles and Sabrina who’ve been doing this forever are the perfect councillors.”

“Too right. Anyway, if you’re feeling short-changed on presents, I got you another too.” When my eyebrows rose eagerly, he held out a cautioning hand. “Disclaimer, though - I already gave you this one before. And if anything, it’s a gift for me - although I’m sure you’ll enjoy it too.”

I sighed. “I’m sure I won’t have a lot of choi-”

My voice cut off abruptly as he tugged down the front of his loose, light grey shorts, letting his erection pop out. And suddenly my mind went clear of all thoughts - except one. All I could think about was stuffing that delicious dick into my slavering mouth.

Characteristic snark aside, my mind was pretty much mush already from the suggestions squishing into it, so it had no defences against the trigger he’d deployed. I took a few stumbling steps forwards as if magnetically pulled towards him, staring fixedly at his crotch, allowing him to take hold of my limp arm and slip my phone out of my numb fingers. Dropping to my knees before him, I rocked forwards and swallowed his cock without preamble.

As I bobbed, sucked and slobbered hungrily, he held up my phone, alternating between filming clips of the revolving doll in its case and snapping shots of me. Whenever I saw the camera pointed my way, I made sure to pause with a mouthful of his dick and give the lens my sexiest crosseyes. (I’d post those photos in the server later, as well.) He held onto my hat with his free hand, keeping it from falling off my head.

Which was nice of him. I guess.

So, that was how we spent our anniversary afternoon. I knelt on our living room carpet sucking my boyfriend off with a dunce hat on my head, while our girlfriend stood absolutely still, mounted on a platform with a pole up its pussy, and turned in hundreds of slow circles. And we all fucking loved it.

We’re weird people. Hot, sure. But weird.