Sissy Hypnosis | You Will Fuck For Me

He awoke in the middle of the bustling mall, a strange lightness in his chest and a curious absence in his mind. He couldn’t remember how he got there or why he felt so drawn to the shimmering storefronts around him. But there was a compulsion — a soft, insistent pull like a whisper beneath his thoughts.

“Good girl,” the voice said. It wasn’t loud, but it echoed in his mind, a warm glow spreading through him at the words. He didn’t question it. Why would he? It felt… right.

His feet led him toward the first store, where mannequins in tight skirts and crop tops stood proudly in the windows. Without hesitation, he walked in. The clerk smiled at him, though she seemed to stifle a small giggle when he picked up a hot pink miniskirt and a matching crop top.

“Good girl,” the voice cooed, as he felt a flutter of pride in his chest.

Each step deeper into the store brought him closer to an aisle filled with barely-there lingerie. His fingers grazed the delicate lace of a hot pink G-string, and suddenly it was in his basket. He didn’t even remember reaching for it. The voice purred again, “Good girl. You’re doing so well.”

Something about those words made his cheeks flush, his body tingle with approval. He found himself smiling, enjoying the attention of the clerks, who offered him new items to try. They handed him a little silver clutch and sky-high heels, and he added them to his growing collection.

Then came the fitting room. His arms were filled with the tiniest skirts, the sheerest blouses, and the most daring lingerie. Inside the small space, he caught his reflection in the mirror, but something about it felt… incomplete. He slipped on a shimmering silver dress that hugged every inch of him tightly, paired it with stockings and heels. The voice practically purred in his mind now, a soft caress of approval: “Good girl. So beautiful.”

By the time he left the store, the bags were heavy in his hands, but the weight felt… satisfying. He moved on to the next store, then another, collecting outfits, accessories, and even makeup kits. Each purchase was accompanied by that voice, reinforcing how right it all felt.

But then things shifted.

He blinked, and suddenly he was sitting at a vanity in a mall salon, his face freshly made up, his lips a glossy pink, his eyes framed by lush, fluttering lashes. He looked… stunning. Feminine. There was no discomfort, only a strange pride that swelled in his chest.

“Good girl,” the voice praised again, and this time it felt so close, as if the speaker was right behind him, whispering directly into his ear.

He blinked again, and now he was standing in a different store, the final piece of his outfit — a pair of gleaming silver pumps — being slid onto his feet by an attendant. The reflection in the mirror showed him fully transformed: a picture-perfect image of a beautiful young woman, complete with tight jeans that hugged his hips and a crop top that revealed just a hint of toned midriff.

And then the voice spoke again, stronger now. “Call me. Now.”

Without thinking, his manicured fingers reached for the phone in his clutch. The screen lit up as he dialed, the number burned into his mind without any effort.

He knew her phone number 1+ 385–294–1096.

“Hello? Are you there?” His voice trembled, soft and uncertain, a faint lilt of something he didn’t quite recognize in his tone.

“I’m glad you called this evening,” the voice on the other end purred, smooth and deliberate, every word wrapping around his mind like velvet. “You’ve done so well today, haven’t you?”

“I… I think so,” he stammered, his grip tightening on the phone. His heart fluttered at the praise, even as his confusion lingered, tugging at the edges of his thoughts like a distant whisper he couldn’t quite hear.

“Good girl,” the voice replied warmly, effortlessly erasing his hesitation. “Now, I need you to do something special for me tonight. You’re feeling adventurous, aren’t you?”

His breath hitched. Was he? He didn’t know, but the suggestion planted itself deep, taking root before he could question it.

“Imagine yourself stepping into the night. The lights are calling to you, the beat of the music vibrating in your chest. You’re dressed beautifully, aren’t you? That tight little skirt you picked up today, those heels that make you feel so alive. You’re irresistible tonight, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he whispered, the word spilling from his lips before he could stop it. His mind reeled, but the voice continued, guiding him like a hand at his back, steady and firm.

“You’ll go to the club,” the voice commanded, low and unyielding. “You’ll feel the music. You’ll lose yourself in the lights, the sound, the way everyone looks at you. And you won’t worry about anything else, will you?”

“No… I won’t.” The words felt like honey, sweet and unthinking, dripping from his lips.

“And your name tonight…” the voice trailed off, leaving a void he instinctively filled.

“My name is… Lila.” He blinked, the name falling into place as if it had always been his. A soft laugh echoed through the phone, warm and approving.

“Good girl, Lila. Now go. You’re perfect.”

The music hit him the moment he stepped through the door, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to sync with his heartbeat. Lights in every color of the spectrum sliced through the darkness, flashing across faces, bodies, and the glittering walls. The air was heavy with heat and perfume, a chaotic blend of sweat and sweetness.

Lila — he — walked to the bar, each step in his silver heels deliberate, graceful, guided by an invisible force. Heads turned as he passed, their gazes drinking in the curve of his hips, the tightness of the skirt that clung to him like a second skin.

He didn’t remember how he got here, but he knew this was where he belonged.

The music swelled, and the crowd swallowed him. Hands grazed his waist, the small of his back, pulling him deeper into the thrumming sea of bodies. Every flash of light illuminated a different moment: his reflection in a mirrored wall, the way his hair caught the glow, the glimmer of gloss on his lips.

Somewhere in the haze, he realized he didn’t remember his name — not his real name, anyway. He was only Lila now, a figure of shimmering silk and intoxicating allure, moving without thought, lost in the rhythm.

The cool night air bit at his skin as he stumbled out into the alley behind the club. The bass of the music still throbbed faintly in the background, a distant echo in the night. He felt dizzy, weightless, as if the ground beneath him wasn’t entirely real.

A hand caught his arm, firm but not rough, pulling him against a broad chest. He looked up, dazed, into a pair of hungry eyes. Words escaped him — if there were any thoughts left to speak.

“You’re beautiful,” the man murmured, his voice rough and low. “So perfect.”

The world around him faded further, narrowing to the sound of his shallow breaths, the rustle of clothing, and the scrape of boots on pavement. Every sensation sharpened, his body hyperaware of the cool air brushing his exposed skin and the warmth of the man pressing against him. There was a slow, deliberate tension in the moment — a pull he couldn’t escape, nor did he want to.

The man’s hand trailed along his back, down to the hem of the skirt that had ridden up too far, exposing bare thighs. A shiver raced up his spine as fingertips grazed his skin, firm and unyielding. His own knees trembled, the anticipation crackling through him like static, his mind caught between surrender and the voice still echoing softly in his head: Good girl.

The man leaned in, his breath hot against his ear, his voice rough with want. “You were made for this,” he murmured, a statement that sunk deep into his thoughts, intertwining with the warmth flooding his body.

Time seemed to slow as the man shifted, his body pressing harder, closer.

He could feel the thick cock pressing between his cheeks, the slow, deliberate pressure making his breath hitch. His hand instinctively slid down, wrapping around his own throbbing erection, the sensation igniting a wave of pleasure that pulsed through him. Bracing himself against the cold, rough surface of the wall, he let the tension build, his body caught between the overwhelming fullness behind him and the desperate need in his hand. Every movement, every sensation, blurred the line between control and surrender, pulling him deeper into the moment.

At that moment, the sharp, rhythmic click of heels against the pavement echoed through the alley, growing louder, closer. His head snapped up, and through the haze of sensation, he saw her. She stepped into view, her presence commanding, her lips curling into a knowing smile. Without a word, she raised a manicured hand and waved it slowly in front of his face, her voice cutting through everything else: “Good girl.”

Her hand descended, deliberate and confident, brushing his away as she took over, her fingers wrapping around his hard, aching cock. The contrast of her touch — firm yet teasing — sent a jolt through him, amplifying the fullness behind him, the overwhelming pleasure surging through his body. She locked eyes with him, her gaze penetrating, her hand moving in rhythm with every thrust, ensuring he was utterly, irrevocably hers in that moment.

The cock moved slowly and methodically, sliding in and out of his ass with an unrelenting rhythm that matched the deliberate motion of her hand. His breaths quickened as he stared into her eyes — those commanding, unyielding eyes that held him captive. He blinked, once, twice, his eyelids fluttering as if struggling to stay open under the weight of the sensations flooding him. The pleasure surged, building with every thrust, every stroke, as his eyes closed briefly, only to reopen and meet her gaze again. Her presence anchored him, even as his body threatened to dissolve into the intensity of the moment.

“Harder,” she commanded, her voice firm and dripping with authority. The man behind him obeyed instantly, gripping his hips tightly and driving into him harder, deeper, each thrust more relentless than the last. Her hand tightened around his cock, her rhythm matching the increasingly aggressive movements behind him.

“Don’t look away,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding. “Keep your eyes on mine.” His gaze locked with hers, the intensity of her stare holding him in place, even as his body trembled with sensation. “Now close your eyes… good. Now open them. Close them again. That’s it.”

The pleasure built to an unbearable peak as the man’s thrusts grew erratic, the unmistakable warmth of release flooding inside him, claiming him completely. Her grip on his cock grew firmer, faster, her words driving him deeper. “Keep staring into my eyes. Go deeper now… deeper into trance… deeper into the sensations that unlock you.”

At that moment, his body surrendered, a wave of pure ecstasy crashing over him. He let out a deep, guttural moan as he spilled himself, thick streams of cum painting the brick wall in front of him, his body shaking with the force of it. Every sensation merged into one, his mind utterly lost in her control, her eyes the only anchor in his overwhelming release.

She leaned in close, her lips brushing softly against his ear as she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction, “Good girl.”