1.

Ryan toyed with the stem of his empty mimosa, eyes unfocused, half-listening to the Sunday swirl of conversation and cutlery. Leo was across from him, demolishing eggs Benedict with athletic focus. Taylor scrolled through her phone, thumb flicking rapid-fire while she sliced up her pancakes with just her fork. She went for another sip of mimosa and found her glass empty.

“Another round?” Taylor asked, raising her eyebrows hopefully as a server passed by.

Leo grinned. “Twist my arm.”

Ryan’s hand drifted to his wallet, hovered, then retreated as if burned. “Uh. I probably shouldn’t. Trying to keep a lid on expenses this month.”

Leo snorted, shooting Taylor a look. “That’s, what, the third brunch in a row you’ve been ‘keeping a lid on it’?”

Taylor put her phone on the table. “Come on, you’re the only homeowner here. And you’ve got rental income! Shouldn’t you be buying us mimosas?”

Ryan laughed awkwardly. “You know how it is. Life’s expensive.”

Leo leaned back in his chair, studying his friend. Ryan looked healthy enough. Maybe a little tired. A little thinner than usual.

“Seriously, man,” Leo said, lowering his voice slightly. “What’s going on? You own a house. You have a decent job. No kids, no crazy lifestyle. You should be rolling in it compared to the rest of us.”

Taylor nodded, backing him up. “Yeah. And you have Sabrina paying rent, too.”

At the mention of Sabrina, the mood at the table shifted. Leo grumbled. But Ryan’s pupils dilated, and his easy posture stiffened. When he spoke, his voice had a rehearsed quality to it, like he was reading from a script he’d memorized too well.

“Sabrina is an excellent tenant,” he said. “She pays on time every month.”

Leo’s mouth twitched. He set down his fork, leaning in. “Yeah, but it’s got to be weird, right? Having your ex living in the basement? Especially that ex.”

Ryan blinked slowly. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Our arrangement is mutually beneficial,” he said.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “‘Mutually beneficial’? You guys negotiating a trade deal or something?”

Leo pressed. “Uh-huh. So what’s she paying, anyway?”

Ryan opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He frowned, just briefly, like he was chasing a word he couldn’t catch. “It covers most things,” he said briskly. “We don’t nickel and dime it.”

Taylor mouthed ‘is he for real?’ at Leo.

Before they could dig further, Ryan changed the subject. “Hey, did you see they redid the menu?” he blurted, seizing on a safe topic. “Avocado toast has truffle oil now. Wild, right?”

Leo just stared at him. Ryan kept glancing at his watch, then the door, then his phone. His foot tapped like a Morse code SOS.

“Big plans today?” Leo asked, keeping it casual.

Ryan smiled, but there was a tautness in it now, a rising urgency he couldn’t quite hide. “It’s the first of the month… you know, collection day,” he announced, with an odd gravity, like it was a holiday.

“Collection day,” Leo repeated, skeptical.

Ryan nodded. His fingers tapped a jittery rhythm against the table.

“So you collect the rent from your ex in person, huh?” Taylor asked, her eyes sparkling.

Leo picked up on it. “Is that part of the trade deal you’ve ‘negotiated’?”

Ryan leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, sighing dramatically. “Guys! It’s not a big deal, Sabrina being my tenant. This arrangement works for us.”

Taylor opened her mouth to needle him further, but Ryan’s phone alarm chimed, and he startled so hard his fork rattled. He jabbed at the screen, stood, and started smoothing his shirt, fussing with his hair. He looked less like a landlord and more like a man about to meet his date.

“Ok, guys,” he said, “this was fun, but I’ve got places to be.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “You just fixed your hair, you know.”

Ryan gave her a baffled look, then a strained laugh. “Guess I want to look presentable. See you!”

He was gone before they could reply, practically jogging toward the door.

Leo stared after him. “He’s getting really weird.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said. “Who collects rent in person anymore? Like, ever heard of Venmo?”

Leo’s eyes didn’t leave the door. “No, but seriously. I’m telling you—something’s up. Sabrina ruined his sorry ass, and now she’s living in his basement? I’ve gotta have a talk with the guy.”

“Good idea,” Taylor nodded. “And when you do, tell him to stop sticking us with the bill for brunch!”

2.

Ryan paused at the top of the basement stairs, clutching an empty envelope. His heart hammered in his chest. He told himself to relax, adjusting his shirt for the third time, smoothing invisible wrinkles. His fingers trembled.

He took a deep breath.

Calm down, dude, he told himself. We do this every month. It’s not a big deal.

The words echoed hollowly in his mind. They didn’t seem quite credible.

He knocked. Two taps, pause, one. He couldn’t have said why that rhythm felt so necessary, only that it did. Habits are funny like that. Behind the door, soft footsteps approached—bare, unhurried.

Sabrina swung the door open.

She wore a low-cut, silky blouse and short shorts, her hair tousled in casual waves. The top clung to her curves, the neckline plunging deep enough that Ryan’s gaze dropped without conscious thought. Her breasts swelled against the thin fabric, the faint outline making his throat dry.

“Ryan! It must be the first today. Come in, baby. Let’s get that rent sorted out,” Sabrina said with a warm smile.

His body moved before his mind caught up. The air inside her place was humid, tinged with something sweet and narcotic—some incense or essential oil she was always diffusing. He could smell it from the floor upstairs, sometimes. It was a cloudy day, and the basement suite was dim. Sabrina hated the harsh overhead lights, so warm lamplight gilded every surface instead.

Ryan tried not to think of the vibe as romantic. He followed her like a man trailing a scent in the dark.

She led him into the living room, offered him a seat on the soft, luxurious sofa. He failed to question why she hadn’t handed him cash at the door. Why he didn’t insist on it, and followed her into her lair instead. He sank back on the couch, aroused and strangely drowsy. His heart was pounding; the envelope might as well have held an IOU for his composure.

Sabrina stood above him, too close. He tried to meet her eyes and failed. Gravity pulled his gaze lower—down the open front of her blouse, into the deep, impossible valley of her cleavage.

He didn’t even realize he was staring until she leaned forward, bracing a hand on her knee. Her breasts strained against the silk, their shape perfect and their size overpowering, creating a pulsing ache at the center of his world.

“You remember how we do this, Ryan?” Sabrina asked, voice dipped in honey. She toyed with a button, not looking at her hands—her eyes fixed on him, measuring his reaction.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. “Yes,” he said, but the word came out thin, lost. “Same as every month…”

She smiled, slow and knowing. “Good boy.”

One button slipped free, then another. The blouse peeled back in slow motion, silk falling away to reveal bare, heavy flesh, a whisper of perfume, as though the sight alone wasn’t enticing enough.

He watched, helpless, as she drew the fabric off her shoulders, letting her breasts fall loose, gleaming in the golden light. They bounced with her breath—a hypnotic rhythm his hindbrain recognized. Time slowed. All thought, all will, drained out of him in hot, heavy waves.

Big. Soft. Bouncy. Round. Perfect.

The words pounded in his head, crowding out everything else.

Sabrina swayed closer, breasts bobbing with every step. He felt his jaw slacken, breath quick and shallow. A dull, thumping pleasure bloomed between his ears, behind his eyes. Between his legs.

“That’s right, Ry. Just stare for me. Deeper… same as every month.” Her voice curled around his brain, slow and liquid.

He moaned, small and pathetic. He couldn’t move, didn’t want to.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Sabrina said, leaning over him, her voice a soothing balm. “Just staring now. Remember that heaviness… that wonderful, empty feeling…”

Ryan made a tiny sound of surrender.

“Deeper for me… falling for me…” she whispered, her voice dropping lower.

“You remember how this works.” She cupped her breasts in her hands. “What these are. What they do.”

His head tilted back slightly as he gazed up at them, the corners of his mouth slack, his eyes wide and glassy.

“Yes… hypno tits… can’t resist… can’t resist… your hypno tits…” Ryan mumbled.

Sabrina giggled. The mantra was so silly, but it worked so, so well.

She leaned in even further, hands on the back of the sofa, framing him with her arms. Capturing him there, between the cushions behind and her breasts in front. Ryan could feel the heat radiating from her skin.

“You’re such a good boy for me,” she crooned. “You love supporting me. It feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“So good,” he sighed, dizzy with longing.

Her breasts pressed against his cheeks, pillowy and warm. “Drop the envelope, silly. You have more important things to do for me.”

His body obeyed automatically. The empty envelope slid to the floor, forgotten. He unzipped his jeans, pulled out his cock. He hadn’t even noticed how hard he was. But now the only thing he could do was stroke—slowly, in a well-trained rhythm—and let the pleasure sizzle in his brain.

“You always forget for me, don’t you?” Sabrina murmured. “Forget why you’re here. Forget what you wanted. It’s so much easier to let me handle everything.”

“Yes, Sabrina,” he sighed, voice muffled by her breasts. Every time he tried to suck at her nipples, she pulled away just enough. Just enough to keep him needy, stroking, stupid, spellbound.

“That’s my good boy,” she said, her voice sweet and sing-song. “Don’t think. Just pump. Just soak up what I say like a silly sponge.”

He obeyed mindlessly, her scent and the sight of her breasts all that existed.

“You’re going to send me a transfer tonight, right before bed. Just half your paycheck this time. It feels so right. You love taking care of me like this, always.”

He mumbled his agreement, the words trickling out slow and sticky, like the precum slick on his palm. Need you. Support you. Always.

She stroked his hair, let her breast brush his lips again. “My perfect little cash machine. This is why you come down here, Ryan. Every month. You never question, never doubt. Because every time you do… all you can see is my hypno tits. And it feels perfect. Just perfect.”

He felt himself sinking, stroking, lost in her rhythm, the pleasure sharp and endless and orgasm always just beyond reach.

“Perfect,” he sighed, in complete agreement.

“Good boy,” Sabrina said with a smile, her victory certain. She crouched to retrieve the envelope from the floor. It had the word RENT written across the front in blue pen, Ryan’s loose handwriting. She put it down on his thigh. She picked a pen and little receipt pad off the coffee table, scribbled on the top receipt, and tore it off.

“Take this,” she said, handing Ryan the pen and laying the receipt on top of the envelope on his leg. He kept stroking his straining cock with his other hand. “Sign there.”

She tucked the countersigned receipt into the envelope with a grin, pleased.

“You’ll remember collecting the rent. You’ll remember being satisfied with our arrangement, and nothing else,” Sabrina instructed, her final commands sinking deep.

He whimpered and nodded as he pumped mindlessly.

She leaned in, kissing him tenderly on the forehead. Then put her lips to his ear. “Zip up now, Ry. And forget.”

Ryan blinked. He was at the door, envelope in hand, head clear, body buzzing with a faint, untraceable pleasure. He smiled. Rent collected. Arrangement working. Sabrina was such a good tenant.

Nothing to worry about at all.

He climbed the stairs, feeling lighter, not noticing how heavy his balls felt, or how empty the envelope was. And he wouldn’t notice how empty his bank account was at the end of the week, either.

3.

Ryan woke to the shrill buzz of his alarm clock. The numbers glowed 7:00 AM.

He groaned, sitting up slowly, groggy, rubbing his temples. He’d been dreaming… something about Sabrina? But no, he’d seen Sabrina yesterday when he collected the rent. For a moment he sat there, blinking into the soft morning light slanting through the blinds, trying to piece together their encounter.

Fragments floated to the surface:

Knocking on Sabrina’s door.

Her familiar, smiling face. Her familiar… body.

Sitting on her couch.

Then… nothing. But it had all gone fine, just like it did every month. Sabrina was such a good tenant, he mused. He was lucky she’d agreed to this whole arrangement.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and caught sight of a neatly folded piece of paper on the nightstand. Curious, he picked it up. It was a receipt.

Rent Paid in Full, it read in bold letters, dated yesterday. Both their signatures were at the bottom.

Ryan stared at his signature. It looked like his handwriting. It was his handwriting. But he couldn’t remember writing it.

“Guess seeing Sabrina is always a little distracting,” he muttered, setting the paper down. He chuckled to himself. God, she was hot. And she’d been a wild lover, but he was glad they weren’t together anymore. This arrangement worked much better.

The explanation soothed him immediately, like stepping under a warm shower.

He shuffled toward the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror stopped him cold for a second. He peered at himself. There—on his forehead—a faint smudge of lipstick.

His heart gave a little jump, but without thinking, he wiped it away. As his fingers brushed the mark, a wave of calm washed through him, smoothing away the ripple of confusion. He smiled placidly at himself.

He stepped into the shower, the hot water sluicing away the last of his doubts. By the time he dressed for work—khakis, polo shirt—he was cheerful, humming to himself.

In the kitchen, Ryan prepared a bowl of cereal. The house was quiet, save for an occasional soft sound floating up through the floor—Sabrina, moving around her suite. He paused, spoon halfway to his mouth.

A flash of memory: Her cleavage, close and warm, filling his vision.

Ryan’s body relaxed instantly. The spoon clattered back into the bowl. His breathing slowed. A dreamy, contented smile spread across his face.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured.

His phone pinged from the table: his banking app, with a low balance notification. His brows drew together faintly as he opened the app. He scrolled to his checking account and frowned. No deposit from yesterday, no cash from the rent he’d collected.

A faint unease stirred…

Her breasts, huge and soft, tantalizingly close to his lips.

…Then dissipated, like a breath held too long and forgotten.

“I’ll deposit it later,” he said aloud, though at the moment he couldn’t remember where he’d stuck the envelope of Sabrina’s money.

He looked over his account transactions. A significant chunk of his paycheck had been moved to an account labelled simply “Expenses”.

He blinked at the figure—far more than he usually budgeted for bills.

For a heartbeat, confusion stirred again…

Her tits bouncing, up and down at the same pace as his hand on his cock.

…then smoothed away, leaving only peace in its wake.

“Bills are handled,” Ryan said with satisfaction, setting his phone aside.

Finished breakfast, he grabbed his keys and slung his bag over his shoulder, whistling softly as he headed for the door. In the vestibule was the basement entrance. He hesitated. His hand rose automatically, knuckles poised to knock.

Then he frowned, lowering it slowly.

“No need to bother Sabrina, my guy. Not till next month,” he said to himself.

Still, something tugged at the edge of his awareness—something he couldn’t name.

Big. Soft. Bouncy. Round. Perfect.

He blinked several times and smiled at himself for daydreaming. Whatever he’d just been worrying about was gone. He left the house and started his car. As he went to work, his mind was light, his wallet was lighter, and he didn’t have a single worry in the world.

4.

It had been a couple months since the last brunch, and Leo never had that talk with Ryan. Now he had an excuse. Leo parked in front of Ryan’s house just as the evening sky deepened into a soft purple. The borrowed power drill he’d finally found sat in the passenger seat. He tried calling Ryan’s cell again. No answer. The familiar battered sedan was right there in the driveway. Ryan had complained about wanting to replace the car for years, but never seemed to have the money.

Leo got out of the car, walked up the driveway, and rapped his knuckles against the front door. Waited. Rang the doorbell for good measure. Still nothing. He frowned.

Maybe Ryan was in the backyard? Leo debated just leaving the drill on the porch, but it would be just his luck if someone stole it. And he really ought to talk to Ryan. It was the first of the month, Leo had just paid his own rent, and that had turned his mind back to Ryan’s weird situation.

Sabrina was a real babe, but she’d really hurt Ryan badly, and him renting his basement suite to her made no sense to Leo.

He sighed and tucked the drill under his arm, making his way along the side of the house. The evening air smelled faintly of cut grass and something sweeter he couldn’t place.

As he passed by the basement windows, he slowed.

The curtains were drawn over the low windows, but one sash was open. Music drifted out—slow, rhythmic, and sexy.

Leo hesitated, unease prickling at the back of his neck. Pretty sure he heard voices, too, a woman and a man.

Curiosity gnawed at him. It wouldn’t be spying, he told himself. Just making sure Ryan was okay. Just… being a good friend.

Still, as he crouched down, his cheeks flushed with guilt. He edged closer to the window until he found a small gap between the curtains. Cursing himself for doing it, he pushed them aside a little further, just enough so he could see—something that blew his mind.

Ryan was on his knees in the middle of the living room. Pants open, cock exposed, pumping himself slowly with a vacant, blissful look on his face. His body moved with the rhythm of the music, swaying slightly, eyes locked on something—someone—in front of him.

Sabrina.

She stood above him, a queen surveying her conquered subject. A lacy black bra was the only thing containing her heavy breasts. Barely containing them. She spoke softly, rhythmically, voice almost blending with the music.

“Deeper now, baby… just stroking and staring… just obeying…”

The words barely reached Leo’s ears, but they curled in his mind all the same.

Ryan moaned softly.

Sabrina smiled, and with deliberate slowness, undid the front clasp of her bra.

The fabric fell away, revealing her full, bare breasts—round, soft, swaying with the slightest motion. They caught the warm light of the lamps in the room and seemed almost to glow.

Leo watched, helpless, as Ryan’s panting deepened. His hands moved faster. His mouth hung open.

“Your mind belongs to my breasts… your money belongs to me…” Sabrina intoned, her voice a velvet rope pulling Ryan ever deeper.

Ryan repeated it like a mantra: “Mind belongs to hypno tits… money belongs to you…”

Leo’s stomach twisted. Disbelief warred with horror. What the fuck had he stumbled into? But another feeling stirred too, low and insistent—arousal.

He should look away. He really, really should look away.

Instead, he leaned closer.

Sabrina cupped her breasts, lifting them, rolling them together in slow, hypnotic patterns. Ryan’s gaze followed helplessly, his body swaying as if tethered to the motion.

“That quarterly bonus? You want me to have it. All of it… it feels so good to give it to me…” she cooed.

Ryan mumbled an agreement. He picked his phone up off the floor, never taking his other hand off his swollen cock, and tapped away as commanded.

Leo shifted slightly to get a better angle, and the gravel that lined the side of the house crackled. He froze, heart hammering against his ribs. Inside, neither Ryan nor Sabrina seemed to notice.

But Leo noticed something else—his own hand, trembling slightly, dangerously close to the growing bulge in his jeans.

He yanked it away as if burned.

What the hell was happening?

Inside, Sabrina slid her sweatpants off. There was nothing underneath but her body. She pressed Ryan gently onto his back and straddled him with lazy dominance, breasts swaying above his dazed, adoring face. She lowered herself down slowly, enveloping his eager, twitching cock.

Leo watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as Sabrina reached down and guided Ryan into her. His friend moaned at the sensation but remained perfectly still, obediently letting her set the rhythm.

Sabrina rode him, grinding her hips at a controlled, mesmerizing pace. Her breasts bounced with every movement, and Ryan’s glazed eyes followed them helplessly, moaning softly with every bounce, every clench of her body around him. Leo’s eyes followed the beautiful bouncing, too.

“Good boy… stare deeper… feel yourself slipping… forgetting… knowing only what I tell you…” she purred, running her hands through Ryan’s hair and pulling his face against her chest.

Ryan whimpered like a man drowning in pleasure.

Leo’s breath caught in his throat. Heat flared through his body, shame and arousal blurring together. His jeans were painfully tight, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Sabrina’s pace increased, her moans joining Ryan’s gasps, until the music, the sway of her body, and Ryan’s desperate sounds blended into a heady, hypnotic symphony.

When she finally cried out her release, squeezing down hard against Ryan’s pliant body, Leo nearly came in his pants just from watching.

He stumbled back from the window, cheeks burning, the power drill forgotten at his feet. Staggering back to his car, Leo’s head was a chaotic mess of emotions. Guilt, shame, worry, arousal… jealousy?

Inside the car, he shut the door quietly, paranoid they’d somehow hear, and gripped the steering wheel. He was breathing hard. In the rearview mirror, his face was pale.

“What the hell just happened?” he yelled at his windshield.

His erection throbbed painfully against his trousers, but the shame and confusion were cooling it off.

He didn’t dare look back at the house as he peeled away from the curb, leaving behind Ryan’s drill—and his peace of mind.

5.

Leo stirred the cooling coffee in front of him with a jittery hand, watching the cream spiral into cloudy eddies. Across the booth, Ryan slouched with the loose, twitchy energy of a man running on fumes and caffeine. It was late afternoon in the dingy diner, and the place was mostly empty except for a bored waitress wiping down the counter and a couple eating quietly by the window.

Leo pushed his lunch away, his appetite long gone. He’d spent the last three days rehearsing what to say, how to approach it without sending Ryan running. But now, with his friend sitting there—smiling a little too wide, his foot bouncing under the table—all the words he’d prepared seemed to dry up.

We probably should’ve had decaf, he thought. Here goes…

“I need to talk to you about Sabrina,” Leo said, keeping his voice low.

Ryan’s smile froze, a flicker of something crossing his face—fear? Pleasure?—before settling into an unreadable mask.

“What about her?” Ryan’s voice cracked slightly at the end.

Leo leaned in, heart pounding. “I came by your place a few nights ago. To return your drill.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed for a moment, then he nodded, unbothered. “Sorry I missed you. I must have been busy downstairs.”

“That’s just it.” Leo dropped his fork with a clatter and gripped the edge of the table. “I saw you. Through the window.”

Ryan blinked. His features cycled rapidly through confusion, alarm, and finally a brittle neutrality.

“I don’t know what you think you saw,” he said carefully.

But Leo noticed the way Ryan’s pupils dilated, how a bead of sweat glistened at his temple.

“I saw some weird shit, is what I saw,” Leo pressed. “I saw you kneeling in front of her. She was controlling you. Hypnotizing you, or something.”

Ryan’s hands trembled as he reached for his coffee cup, missing it on the first try. When he finally grasped it, he made no move to take a sip.

“Our arrangement is private,” Ryan said, almost monotone, as if reading from a well-worn script.

“She’s taking your money, Ryan. I heard her making you transfer your bonus,” Leo said, voice raw.

For a heartbeat, Ryan’s face crumpled. Genuine confusion flickered in his eyes. “That’s not… I don’t remember…”

He touched his forehead like he could physically push his memories back into place.

Then the moment was gone. Ryan straightened, the blank certainty sliding back into place. “Sabrina always pays her rent on time. She’s a good tenant.”

“Ryan,” Leo said, barely keeping the frustration out of his voice. “It’s like she’s really actually hypnotizing you. With her… with her breasts. I heard you call them…”—he couldn’t believe he was really about to say it out loud—“hypno tits.”

Ryan’s reaction was immediate and chilling.

His expression smoothed out, eyes going glassy. A soft, blissful smile spread across his face.

“Hypno tits, can’t resist…” Ryan whispered reverently, staring past Leo at nothing at all.

Panic surged through Leo. He snapped his fingers sharply in front of Ryan’s face. “Hey! Quit fucking around!”

Ryan jerked, blinking rapidly. His cheeks flushed deep red as he shifted in his seat.

“I’m fine,” Ryan said too quickly, waving a hand as if brushing away smoke. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m worried about you, man,” Leo said, leaning in. “This isn’t healthy. She’s manipulating you.”

Ryan stiffened, his voice taking on that robotic cadence again. “Everything between Sabrina and me is consensual.”

“Bullshit.” Leo’s voice cracked. “How much money have you given her?”

Ryan opened his mouth, paused, confusion knitting his brow. “Given? She pays me… rent…”

He trailed off, eyes darting, panic creeping back in.

“Money? Give her? I can’t remember,” Ryan whispered hoarsely.

Leo saw the real Ryan for just a second. Terrified. Lost.

Then anger crashed over Ryan’s features, sudden and defensive. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to mess things up?”

“I’m trying to help you!” Leo said. “Let’s pull up your bank statements. We’ll look together.”

“No!” Ryan’s shout cracked through the diner, drawing a glance from the waitress. He flushed, lowering his voice. “My finances are private.”

Leo’s heart sank. He knew the refusal wasn’t just privacy—it was some kind of programming.

“Did she tell you not to check?” he asked gently.

Ryan shot to his feet, nearly knocking over his water glass. “I need to go. I don’t feel well.”

He fumbled for his jacket—getting ready to leave Leo with the bill, as usual.

“Ryan—”

But Ryan was already halfway to the door, checking his watch anxiously. Leo didn’t need to ask where he was going. He watched helplessly as his friend got into his battered old car and screeched out of the parking lot.

Alone, Leo slumped in the booth. That had gone about as well as he’d feared. He pulled out his phone, stared at it. Who would he even call? What could he even say? “Help! My friend’s ex is hypnotizing him with her titties to let her live in his basement for free!”

Yeah, right.

He thought of Sabrina’s hypnotic, swaying breasts. The glazed look in Ryan’s eyes. The way his own body had betrayed him at the window.

A shiver ran through Leo.

He could only think of one way to help his friend escape the web Sabrina had him tangled in. The idea was scary and arousing all at once—he didn’t want to think in what proportions.

6.

Leo sat in his car outside Ryan’s house again, the worn leather of the steering wheel creaking faintly under his grip. He stared at the basement windows, the afternoon sun casting long, drowsy shadows across the lawn. He’d propped his phone in a cup holder: the clock read 4:15 PM on a Tuesday. Ryan would be at work until five, easy. Leo picked up his phone, started the recording app, and slipped it into his sport jacket pocket. He’d come when Sabrina was home and Ryan wasn’t for a single reason: evidence.

His stomach twisted. Was he really going to do this? Just get it over with. He took a deep breath, ran through the speech he’d rehearsed a dozen times in his mind, and climbed out of the car.

He walked around back, where the private entrance to the basement waited. Leo crossed the small backyard with quick, determined strides, heart hammering a little too fast. He knocked firmly.

Footsteps approached on the other side. A long pause. He imagined her peeking through the peephole, sizing him up.

The door swung open. Sabrina stood there in casual loungewear—a clingy black tank top and soft grey shorts. Her eyes widened in momentary surprise, and she raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

“Leo,” she said, leaning against the doorframe in a way that made it impossible not to notice how her top molded to her curves. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

Leo forced himself to maintain eye contact. “Ryan’s not here.”

“No,” she agreed, tilting her head. “He’s at work.”

“I came to talk to you.”

There was a flicker of something across her face—wariness? amusement? It was gone before he could pin it down.

“About what?” she asked, voice casual, but the air between them tightened.

“About Ryan. About what you’re doing to him.”

She looked at him blankly. “Doing to him? I just rent his basement.”

Leo squared his shoulders. “I saw you two. Through the window.”

For a second, genuine surprise flickered in her eyes. Then it darkened, deepened into something far more dangerous.

“Maybe you should come in,” she said, stepping back and swinging the door wider. “We can discuss this like adults.”

Leo’s instincts screamed at him. But across the small yard, a neighbour was watering a row of tomato plants, eyes flicking toward them with idle curiosity. Leo hesitated—and then grimly stepped inside, careful to leave the door cracked open behind him.

The basement suite was… not what he’d expected from his first glimpse. He’d been too focused on Sabrina fucking his friend to pay attention to the decor, anyway. Everywhere he looked was new furniture, gleaming electronics, expensive rugs. A far cry from the spartan, hand-me-down bachelor pad Sabrina had when she and Ryan first met.

“This must be where all Ryan’s money is going,” Leo muttered.

Sabrina smiled and perched casually on the arm of the sofa, languid and confident. “What exactly do you want, Leo?”

He stayed standing at the foot of the stairs. “I want you to stop. Leave Ryan alone. Find somewhere else to live. Fuck away off, basically.”

She laughed—a light, musical sound that prickled at his nerves. “Why the hell should I?”

“Then I go to the police. Fraud, manipulation, maybe even coercion.”

Her smile didn’t falter. “With what evidence?” she asked. “Ryan will deny everything. He’ll say he gave me gifts. Cops aren’t gonna care if some dummy wants to spoil his ex, trying to win her back.”

Leo scoffed at her audacity but faltered. Sure, he was recording this… but what could he get her to say that would actually hold up in court?

“Why are you really here, Leo?” Sabrina’s voice softened, and she slid off the sofa, padding slowly toward him.

He tensed, refusing to retreat.

“Is it really just for Ryan?” she purred. “Or are you a little curious yourself?”

“I’m trying to help my friend,” Leo growled.

She moved closer until the heat of her body seemed to brush his skin. “Are you sure that’s all?”

Leo’s heart hammered. He could smell her perfume—something floral and intoxicating. His gaze slipped, just for a second, down the line of her collarbone to the deep shadow of her cleavage—then snapped back up.

“Stop it,” he said roughly.

“I’m not doing anything,” Sabrina said, feigning innocence. “You’re the one looking.”

The air between them crackled. Leo fought the sudden, irrational desire to lean closer, to breathe her in. It was just proximity, just biology. He wasn’t like Ryan. He could resist.

“Admit it,” she said, voice low and coaxing. “Since you watched us, you’ve been thinking about this.”

“No.”

“Liar.” She had a very pretty smile. But it was hard not to look lower down.

Leo shook his head, but his denial was weaker now. Images flashed behind his eyes—Ryan kneeling, pumping his cock; Sabrina’s full breasts swinging hypnotically; the mindless adoration on Ryan’s face. How good Ryan must have felt when she rode him. And underneath his horror, the memory of his own arousal.

“Ryan was enjoying himself, wasn’t he?” she asked, taking another step closer.

“He was… hypnotized,” Leo managed, struggling to keep the conversation on track.

“That’s right,” Sabrina whispered.

She reached down, tugging the hem of her tank top upward, exposing smooth skin, toned stomach—then higher. Leo watched, helpless, as she peeled the top away, revealing the heavy swell of her breasts.

“He was hypnotized,” Sabrina repeated.

The room seemed to shrink around them. Leo tried to look away, but the mesmerizing rise and fall of her chest held his gaze as she breathed slowly, deliberately.

“It’s not too late for you, Leo,” she murmured, taking another slow step closer. “You can walk away now. Or you can stay.”

Leo’s fists clenched at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak—to demand she stop—but the words tangled and died.

“I think you made your choice,” Sabrina said, her voice almost a purr. “You’re still looking at me. You’re staring, actually.”

Her hands slid up, framing her breasts, pushing them together, creating a hypnotic valley of soft, perfect flesh. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, making them sway slightly—just enough to draw the eye, to pull Leo’s struggling attention back and forth.

“Staring is rude, Leo. And it’s also dangerous.” She giggled. “It’s so easy to stare. So easy to listen.”

“No,” Leo said hoarsely, taking a step back—but bumping against the bottom stair, distracted from escape by the need to steady himself.

“You want to help Ryan?” Sabrina asked. “Then you need to understand what he’s feeling. You need to see what he sees.”

Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “You need to stare…”

Leo’s gaze, traitorous, dropped again to her chest.

“…and surrender to me.”

He gasped—a tiny, shuddering breath. His muscles locked up, his mind fogging as a heavy, liquid warmth spread through him.

“That’s it,” Sabrina cooed. “Just like Ryan.”

Her hands moved, bouncing her breasts. Leo’s eyes tracked the rhythm helplessly.

“Bouncy, soft, heavy,” she whispered. “Mesmerizing, right? Hypnotic.”

Leo fought—he truly did—but it was like struggling in quicksand. Every breath filled his nose with her scent. Every sway of her breasts pulled his thoughts deeper under.

“Just relax,” she said. “Let me take care of you.”

Leo’s mouth was dry. His hands, once clenched in anger, hung limply at his sides. His heartbeat slowed, syncing to the lazy sway of her body.

“You don’t have to think,” Sabrina said. “You just have to watch.”

She lowered her hands and let the heavy, bare curves of her breasts bounce freely with each teasing sway.

“You remember what Ryan said? About these big… soft… hypno tits,” she murmured, the word hitting him like a blow.

Leo knew he needed to leave. Every alarm inside him was blaring. Yet he just stood there, rooted to the floor of Sabrina’s apartment, staring at her bare breasts, full and perfect and swaying slightly with her breath. He moaned softly, his mind folding under a wave of conditioned pleasure.

Leo’s body gave a little shudder. He shook his head, just barely. He tried—he truly tried—to wrench his gaze away, to remind himself why he’d come.

“Ryan’s bank accounts…” he started, blinking hard, fighting to assemble the thoughts. “You’ve been…”

But the words scattered like leaves in a strong wind. It was so hard to hold on to them with her breasts filling his vision, with her voice weaving through his mind.

“Why worry about Ryan,” Sabrina soothed, gently taking hold of his arms, “when you’re feeling so good right now?”

Her voice didn’t just reach his ears. It seemed to bloom inside his skull, a warm, coiling sensation that made his shoulders sag and his willpower falter.

“You’re fighting because you think you should,” Sabrina observed, voice low, almost pitying. “But you don’t really want to resist.”

hypno tits… can’t resist…

Somewhere deep inside, Leo whimpered. Because she was right. He didn’t fight it as she pulled him towards her sofa.

Some part of him—some part he’d refused to acknowledge—had wanted this from the moment he first watched her hypnotize Ryan. Wanted it so badly he could barely admit it to himself.

Sabrina gestured to the couch. He sank into it, pliant, mind spinning.

She stood over him, silhouetted by the soft light of the apartment, her breasts swaying slowly.

“Let me tell you how Ryan got this way,” she said.

Her voice was syrupy, drugging him with every word. As she spoke, she moved her body in time with the story she told, her voluptuousness impossible to look away from.

“The first time, we’d only had a few dates. We were at his place, and I was super hot for him, but you know Ryan: he was shy. So I straddled him, just like this,” she said. And in one quick movement, she slid her shorts off and pounced into Leo’s lap, her thighs on either side of his.

“He tried to keep looking me in the eye, the cutie. He tried to stay polite.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But the moment I leaned forward…”

Sabrina demonstrated, letting her breasts swing inches from Leo’s face.

“…he was mine.”

Leo whimpered, “yours,” without meaning to, his hands gripping his knees so hard his knuckles went white.

“Poor Ryan,” Sabrina cooed, her breasts swaying slowly from side to side. “He stared and stared. Big… soft… perfect… hypnotic…”

Each word sank deeper into Leo’s mind. Each sway of her chest seemed to scoop out more of his thoughts, leaving only heat, pleasure, and the aching need to obey.

“He thought it was just regular lust,” Sabrina said. “I mean, so did I. But every time he looked, every time he breathed, every time his cock throbbed for me, he fell deeper under my control.”

Leo’s breathing was ragged now. His whole body burned with the need to touch, to serve, to surrender.

“Just like you are,” Sabrina sang sweetly.

Leo’s eyelids fluttered. His mind wavered. And when Sabrina pressed her big breasts together within a hair’s breadth of his lips, he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

“Say it for me,” she breathed, wrapping his world in heat and scent and the endless, mesmerizing motion of her flesh. “What do you see?”

Leo’s mouth moved on its own, the word sliding free without conscious thought.

“Hypno tits…”

He heard himself say it. He felt it shudder through his nervous system, rewriting something vital.

“And what happens,” Sabrina purred, “when you see my hypno tits?”

Leo’s head lolled back slightly. His pupils were enormous.

“Can’t… resist…”

“You don’t need to resist,” Sabrina soothed. “Just feel. Just obey.”

She shifted in his lap, grinding against his cock. He was painfully hard underneath her heat. Leo’s hands, as if guided by invisible strings, lifted to her waist. A look of blissful surrender spread across his face.

Outside, the sound of a key turning in the front door echoed faintly through the house.

Footsteps followed—quiet, deliberate.

Sabrina heard them. She knew who was coming. But she didn’t stop. She leaned down, her breasts pressing against Leo’s cheeks, her body moving sensually against his.

“Deeper now,” she murmured in his ear. “Falling completely under my power. Nothing else matters.”

“N-nothing,” he panted, echoing her thoughtlessly, “else matters…”

Her hands slid between them, undoing his pants, freeing his rigid cock. She lifted her hips slightly, tugged her panties out of the way, and gasped as he filled up her pussy.

The basement door creaked open.

Ryan stood there, frozen, staring at the scene before him.

Leo didn’t notice. Not anymore. He was too far gone, thrusting slowly and helplessly into Sabrina’s hot, eager body, his glassy eyes locked on the hypnotic bounce of her breasts above him.

But Ryan sure as hell noticed.

He stood frozen in the doorway, clutching the frame like it might anchor him to the real world. His face twisted through a rapid, painful series of emotions: confusion, hurt, jealousy, a flicker of rage—then a hollow, wounded look, as though the floor had opened beneath him and he was falling.

“Sabrina?” he croaked, his voice breaking, thin and unsure.

Sabrina, without missing a beat, turned slightly on Leo’s lap, keeping the motion of her hips slow and sinuous, the subtle bounce of her breasts perfectly timed to captivate. She smiled, radiant and unbothered, as if Ryan had merely stumbled upon an everyday scene.

“Perfect timing, Ryan,” she said warmly, beckoning him with one languid hand. “Come join us.”

Ryan’s hand on the doorframe tightened until his knuckles whitened. For a moment, something bright and desperate shone in his eyes. Recognition. Horror. A flash of memory piercing through the thick fog of programming. His gaze darted from Leo’s blank, entranced face to Sabrina’s smirking one, and he staggered half a step forward, as if propelled by that surge of clarity.

“Leo… why is he… here?” he choked out, the words heavy, alien on his tongue, like a language he’d once spoken but forgotten. He wasn’t used to asking questions in Sabrina’s presence.

Sabrina’s eyes sharpened. She shifted, subtly but decisively, straightening her back to push her breasts higher, closer, making them the undeniable centre of the room. Leo moaned softly beneath her, lost in the soft weight of her body.

“Look at my hypno tits, Ryan,” Sabrina said, her voice lilting, rich with effortless command. “Remember how good it feels to obey my hypno tits.”

The words slammed into Ryan like a physical blow. His body jerked; his mouth dropped open. His pupils dilated instantly, swallowing the colour of his eyes. The fragile scaffolding of independent thought he’d started to rebuild crumbled to dust in a heartbeat.

Ryan took a shuddering breath and stepped towards the couch.

“That’s right,” Sabrina purred, turning her body just enough to keep Leo transfixed while welcoming Ryan back into her orbit. “Both my good boys together.”

Ryan came to the couch and sank to his knees, his body moving with eerie, fluid precision. His hands fell to his lap, cock already visibly hardening through his jeans as he watched—watched Sabrina bouncing on his friend, her breasts commanding Leo’s gaze, owning him just as completely as they owned Ryan.

Leo thrust and whimpered beneath her, never once blinking.

“You’re both going to serve me now,” Sabrina said softly, her voice thick with pleasure. “With your bodies. With your minds. With your money.”

Ryan had his cock out, already stroking. Sabrina pointed to the seat right next to Leo.

“Come here, silly,” she told her brainwashed ex-boyfriend. “Kneel right here and I’ll let you suck while you stroke.”

Ryan obeyed, and, even as she rode Leo, she pulled his head close so he could take her nipple in his mouth.

Sabrina moaned as both men gave her pleasure.

“Focus only on me,” she breathed. “Only on my breasts.”

She needn’t have bothered. Both men were spellbound, their minds locked into a synchronized, unbreakable trance. Their pleasure was no longer their own. It was hers to command and mould, as easily as she’d mould their memories.

“Good boys,” she whispered, smiling as she felt the tension building in them. “You’re so close now. So ready to surrender completely.”

Ryan stroked himself slowly with one hand while mouthing reverently at her skin, his other hand grasping her thigh like a drowning man clutching a lifeline. Leo’s hands dug into her waist, his movements sloppy, uncontrolled, as his need overwhelmed him.

Sabrina arched her back, shoving her tits even more prominently into view.

“Repeat after me,” she cooed. “Your minds belong to my hypno tits.”

There was a brief, shuddering pause—then, in perfect, flat unison, both men spoke, their voices hollow and obedient:

“Our minds belong to your hypno tits.”

Sabrina grinned wickedly.

“Your money belongs to me.”

“Our money belongs to you.”

Their bodies trembled, both of them right on the brink, their minds melted down into pure obedience and desperate, aching pleasure. Sabrina let it happen, let them teeter on the edge until she felt their wills completely snap.

“Good boys,” she murmured. “Now… cum for me.”

Both men obeyed instantly, helplessly, their cries muffled against her skin as they surrendered everything they were, everything they had, to her.

Sabrina closed her eyes and basked in the sensation.

Her good boys, both of them. All hers.

And soon—soon—they would no longer remember wanting anything but this.

7.

Six months later, the house barely resembled the modest property Leo had once known. Now that Ryan had moved into the basement and given Sabrina the upstairs, she’d renovated and redecorated to her tastes. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under soft, ambient lighting. In the sumptuous living room, an enormous sectional sofa—a handcrafted designer piece that cost more than Leo’s and Ryan’s cars—curved around a sleek coffee table. A massive TV hung on the wall opposite, playing muted music videos no one was really watching.

Sabrina sprawled across the couch, scrolling through her phone. Her hair was messy, her curves draped in a delicate robe that barely clung to her body. It was midday on the weekend and her new lover was busy in the kitchen. Her thumb flicked idly until her notifications buzzed. She grinned as she saw the familiar alerts.

Transfer Complete

Ryan M. — $150 — Memo: Thank You, Goddess

Leo L. — $215 — Memo: Thank You, Goddess

“Good boys,” she murmured, tapping to dismiss the messages. “Your daily devotional.” She turned her head toward the open-plan kitchen. “Mark, honey?”

“Mojitos coming right up,” Mark replied from behind the quartz-topped island. His voice was bright, eager to please.

Out in the backyard, Ryan and Leo moved steadily, methodically, fertilizing the lawn and tending the flowerbeds. They wore matching shorts and tank tops—chosen by Sabrina, of course—their bodies slightly sweaty under the midday sun. Their motions were unhurried but efficient, their faces serene, almost vacant. The simple labour gave them deep, deep pleasure.

They manicured Sabrina’s garden, the flowerbeds vibrant from their daily care. In the bright afternoon light, the expanded bedroom windows gleamed, framed by new curtains that hinted at the luxury within.

They worked side by side in serene silence until their neighbour in the adjacent yard came up to the low fence.

“Hey, fellas!” she called cheerily. “You sure keep this place looking beautiful.”

Ryan straightened up, beaming with a dopey pride. “Thank you! Sabrina likes it pretty.”

Leo nodded enthusiastically. “Sabrina deserves the best.”

The woman blinked, smiled uncertainly, and turned back to her own garden.

Inside, Sabrina accepted a cocktail from Mark. He wore dress slacks and an expensive watch, but his blazer was gone, his shirt hanging open. The slight sheen of sweat at his temples suggested what they’d been up to since he arrived—a different sort of pleasurable labour. He sat beside her, leaning in to kiss her shoulder.

Her phone buzzed again. A new dating app notification. She flicked it away, uninterested. She still had plenty of work to do with this new boy.

Outside, Ryan and Leo continued working, but they paused when they heard the unmistakable rhythm of a mattress creaking through the open bedroom window.

Inside, unfinished mojitos sat on the bedside table, Sabrina’s robe lay on the floor. She pinned Mark on the bed, her breasts bouncing gently with each movement, and Mark stared, utterly captivated.

“I love the way you look at me, baby,” she panted, bouncing, delighting in how big he was, how good he felt. “Just relax and let me take the lead.”

He could only nod, unable to think of anything but the sight of her body and what it was doing to his cock.

Outside, listening to the sounds from the bedroom, Leo and Ryan exchanged a glance. Somewhere, deep beneath layers of conditioning, something stirred. A vague echo of what they might have once felt—jealousy, maybe?

But the more they heard Sabrina moaning, thought about her body, the more the programming took over. Leo leaned over, as though confiding an important truth. “Sabrina deserves to be happy,” he declared.

Ryan nodded, lips moving automatically, repeating the words: “Sabrina deserves to be happy.”

Inside, Mark chanted the words as she taught them, his voice thick with submission: “Y-yes. Yes. H-hypno tits… can’t… can’t resist…”

Sabrina giggled low in her throat, moaning, fucking him fiercely. This part turned her on the most.

“That’s right,” she cooed. “Just stare… just obey…”

Outside, Leo and Ryan turned back to their work, their bodies moving in a synchronized rhythm. The sounds from the house—Sabrina crying out in orgasm, over the helpless grunts of a man losing himself—drifted out into the warm air, but neither of them reacted.

Their hands moved smoothly, pulling weeds, watering flowers, adjusting the patio chairs, sweeping the porch—each task done not for themselves, but for her.

At some point, Leo paused, holding a shovelful of manure over the soil. A fleeting thought bubbled to the surface: Is this really how I wanted to spend the weekend?

Before he could catch it, the thought dissolved, replaced by a warm, tingling pleasure at the thought of Sabrina’s smile. Her body. Her breasts.

“Sabrina deserves the best,” Leo recited.

“Sabrina deserves the best,” Ryan echoed automatically.

Their shirts clung to their backs with sweat, their muscles ached faintly—but they were happy. Perfectly content. They didn’t need ambition. They didn’t need independence.

They needed to serve.

Their time, like their money, was so much better spent on Sabrina than on themselves.

And now, another good boy was joining them. Sure, they could be jealous of Mark. But there was no need, as long as their goddess got everything she wanted.

THE END.