Losers Can’t Be Choosers
Chapter 1 — “Hypnosis thing”
The voice on the line was silky yet venomous, like a sting hitting the back of Jonah’s neck. It belonged to Princess Ashley, the latest verbal rapist he had welcomed into his life, a barely legal fake redhead whose talent for total humiliation was anything but an illusion.
“You’re such a pathetic loser, you’re lucky I even talk to you. Go on, tell me how much of a dipshit you really are, stupid boy,” she said. It was a premium call at a special rate with all the insults anyone could handle, and very few in truth could. Jonah lived for them though, needed the release like a junkie needs his fix.
“I’m a total dipshit that doesn’t deserve the attention of any woman, let alone one as royal such as You,” Jonah screamed, thoughts and words enveloped in a sweaty haze. His head hung low, eyes fixed on his hardened cock. It throbbed with each carefully chosen indignity, a familiar script to condition his mind.
“You got that right and that’s all you’re allowed to think from now on, do you understand?” the dominant nymphette commanded, cementing even further the truth he had already taken for granted. “You’re so ridiculous you would even give a blowjob to yourself if I told you too, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, Princess Ashley,” he muttered, and he certainly had the skills for it. Not that long ago his gymnast skills had been appreciated all around the world, with comparisons to Mitch Gaylord and Philipp Boy yet the gold medals and thunderous applause from eager audiences paled in comparison to the thrill of being demeaned, diminished, turned into a fetish robot to be used and abused online by fantasy strangers that would forever remain that way.
“Spit on your cock, worthless meat sack. Spit on your cock and thank me for doing this to you.”
“Thank you, Princess Ashley,” his wet lips said, saliva dripping onto the tip and scrotum. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
The Princess laughed at how easy he was to manipulate, even easier than most men who dared to call her. A metallic ping rang in his ears. “I’m too good for you so I just upped the rates even further. I’m going to ignore you during the next ten minutes but you’re still going to pay, of course. Remain on your knees, thinking only of me, and how much you love being my humiliated bitch beta. And don’t forget the generous tip at the end of it all or you won’t hear from me ever again, do you understand?”
“Yes, Princess Ashley. Anything you say.”
“That’s right, anything I say... goodbye, shitface.”
And so he was left to his own design, released from the sound of her voice, yet still very much her mindfucked thrall. She couldn’t see him yet he dared not move a muscle, focused only on the surge of emotions whirling through his body. He waited twenty minutes instead of ten before hanging up the call and proceeding to gift her yet another small fortune she would use on real men the following day. He felt ecstatic, on cloud nine, and then...
... he felt nothing. Nothing at all. The illusion shattered from inside out and Princess Ashley’s voice was gone with the wind. Jonah got up, checked his bank account, and buried himself on the sofa. The grooves of Sunday night were the same as the day before. Something crunchy brushed against his ball sack, a forgotten popcorn. Without a second thought, he threw it in his mouth.
The game was fun, more fun than it had the right to be, but it was also dangerous. He had gone through half his savings in little over a year chasing latex-clad rainbows with viperine tongues and for what? “Dear Diary, today I paid another woman to treat me like dirt, just like I did yesterday and the day before that,” wasn’t exactly best-selling material yet all that his memoirs ammounted to. Paparazzi from all over the world would have a field day if their indiscrete cameras ever caught a glimpse of his sessions but therein stood the beauty of living in a penthouse so far high that it would take a helicopter to capture any details of his private life.
“I need to stop this,” he thought even though he wasn’t sure he was able to on his own. The grip was too strong, the desire to surrender almost like a living entity fused to the core of his persona. Luckily, he knew just the one to talk to. His younger sister, Angela, hadn’t inherited the flexibility gene to do pirouettes and backflips at will but was rather skilled in mind bending and thought correcting through the use of hypnosis. Yes, she was the right person for the job and surely she wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to help out a family member in need. He would call her first thing in the morning or, better yet, ask her out for lunch.
“Sounds like a plan,” his subconscious said before issuing an order to grab the TV remote. The Rockets game was on, it was good enough of an entertainment. The bouncing orange ball had the fortunate trait of making him forget the blue ones between his legs. Jonah feigned a smile and rooted for his team to win.
“You want me to do what?” Angela Barnes asked, almost choking with the pasta on her half-empty plate.
“Fix my humiliation addiction, please. As fun as it is, I really need to get over it,” Jonah replied, root beer glass in hand, watching her eat with a bemused smile on his face. Calories didn’t scare her but she sure knew how to scare them.
They were sitting in a cosy restaurant just outside her office. Twenty-nine year old Angela was a green-eyed stubborn blonde with medium-sized tits, a penchant for leather skirts, and far too much trivia knowledge inside her head. In spite of all the clutter, anyone that tried to describe her personality as “bubbly” or something similar was sure to get a heel stuck up his/her ass before even finishing the sentence. With two degrees under her belt, a private practice worth six figures a year, and an insatiable appetite, she knew what power was and wasn’t afraid to use it.
“And how do you propose I do that?” she continued, a speck of Bolognese sauce impersonating a beauty mark on her left cheek.
“With your... you know...” he mumbled.
“Your hypnosis... thing. You know I don’t really understand that kind of stuff.”
Angela cleaned the corner of her lips with a delicately embroidered napkin. “You certainly don’t but I suppose I have to thank you now.”
“Thank me for what?”
“For letting me know that everything I’ve been studying for the past several years can be easily summarized with the words ‘thing’ and ‘stuff’.”
Jonah shrugged. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it that way.”
Angela laid down the napkin and looked him in the eyes. “You know what you say I know but I don’t know if I know that what you say I know about what you say I know is indeed what I know... if I know anything at all, that is.”
His pupils widened. “Wow, I have no idea what you just said right now. Are we doing this already? Here out in the open?”
“Doing what, Jonah?”
“The hypnosis thing, what else?”
Angela reached for her glass. “We’re just talking. At least, I am. As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m not so sure about you.”
“Okay, what do you mean by that?”
“It seems to me you’re thinking about what we’re talking, instead of thinking and talking which, in turn, leads to you talking without thinking when thinking should be what you should be doing before talking about things you know nothing about otherwise you just sound ridiculous and a pathetic excuse for a man, dear brother.”
“Aren’t you being a little mean right now?”
“Says the man who said ‘hypnosis thing’. Twice. That was also mean. And ignorant, too. You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” She lashed out.
Jonah looked around, saw the annoyed faces of other clients turning their way. “Will you please keep your voice down?”
Angela’s tone softened as she adjusted herself on the seat. He looked particularly cute when embarassed. “Down or deeper? Which one do you prefer?”
“If you had to choose right now between the words ‘down’ and ‘deeper’ which one would you choose and why?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Indulge me and maybe I’ll tell you.”
“I don’t know,” he gulped.
“Think about it, will you? If you do, I might consider helping you even though you clearly don’t deserve it, worm!”
Jonah’s dick twitched in his pants. If his own sister could elicit such a response from him then his problem was way deeper than imagined. Nonetheless, he chose the other word. “Down, I guess. It rolls off the tongue better.”
Angela looked away as if bored out of her life. “Typical. I prefer ‘deeper’ because two syllables are better than one. Although I have a friend that reads it as ‘diaper’ instead, can you believe that? Imagine if she were to try that ‘hypnosis thing’ with a client and began to snap her fingers left and right saying ‘go diaper for me now’? Would he become a man-baby? Would she have to change him before the session was done? ‘Go diaper for me now’, heh, that’s funny, isn’t it? ‘Diaper and diaper... oops, we’ve run out already’.” She chuckled.
Jonah looked at her glass. She still drank apple juice every meal, didn’t she? Because if she didn’t...
“Angie, are you drunk?”
She leaned closer to him and whispered. “What if I am? Some drink alcohol, others drink humiliation. Not just drink, they eat it, they breathe it, they piss and shit thinking about it, wanting to be taken over, exposed, only to feel bad about themselves when they finally are because the problem of opening yourself like is that everything comes out in a flash before one has a chance to react. You’re a worthless prick, Jonah, that’s all you’ve ever been. I bet you tried paying your fellow gymnasts to sleep with you in gold. A gold medal for a golden shower, your blood, sweat, and tears for the chance of being a human toilet for them.”
“That’s... too much,” he said, in horror.
“And yet you’re still hard, getting harder and harder. Perhaps you want to ‘go diaper for me now’ but this time the diaper is full of shit just like you. You’re full of shit, you’re nothing but shit, you will always be shit to me,” she pushed even further.
“Angie... please stop...”
“I don’t feel like it. Not until you ‘go diaper’ snap and ‘diaper’ snap, as ‘diaper’ as you can possibly be without even realizing it. Everyone is staring but you just don’t care because your thoughts are no longer your own. The ‘diaper’ snap you go, the less aware of your surroundings you become snap, ‘diaper and diaper’ into this ‘hypnosis thing’ you know nothing about even though you respond to it so well. It feels good to respond to me like this, doesn’t it, Jonah?”
His breath became shallow, thoughts slowly crawling to an halt. “Yes, Angie, it does.”
“Good. It’s good to feel good and it’s even better when feeling good comes from hypnotic obedience. Humiliation may be your primary kink but you thrive off obedience as well, don’t you? You want to obey, you long to obey, you need to obey. Do me a favor and repeat what I just said.”
“I want to obey, I long to obey, I need to obey.”
“Are you going to obey your baby sister from now on?”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else from one so easily confused and suggestible. Pay our bill and let’s continue this elsewhere, shall we?”
Jonah waved his credit card, most of his food still on the plate. She had fed him more than his stomach could handle already but he could ‘go diaper’ still in the privacy of her office. Angela raised her glass up high and cheered.