“I think so. He went through that whole deconditioning. It was pretty rough. I still can’t believe that’s a thing.”
“I wouldn’t believe it had you not told me about it. I had to look it up.”
“You didn’t try it, did you?”
“No—of course not. I’m not going to fuck with that mind trickery stuff. I’ve got a good thing going.”
“Good. Don’t try it. My brother thought he could beat it—thought he was man enough that it wouldn’t affect him.”
“I like to think that I’m man enough that it wouldn’t affect me, but I’m not about to risk it. I saw all of those pictures of the guys who tried and failed.”
“Good. Just stay away from it.”
And Kent was suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity. What were these guys talking about? What did this guy’s brother try that he had to go through some sort of strange deconditioning? So Kent stepped up and nudged himself into the conversation. “Excuse me. Sorry. I just overheard you guys talking, and I was wondering what you were talking about.” It felt good to hear his own voice. It felt good to be able to speak and overcome his awkward and unexpected shyness, even if it was just with two guys.
The two guys looked at Kent. “His brother,” said the man with Kent’s similar build, “tried to do that sissy hypno test thing, and it ended up screwing up his brain.”
Kent shook his head. “I don’t know what any of that means.”
The larger man piped up. “It’s this thing that’s going around. You’re supposed to put headphones on when you go to sleep and listen to this recording. You do it for a week, and if you still call yourself a man at the end of the week, then you’re a real man. But if you end up becoming a sissy, then you lose. Don’t try it though, man. I don’t know anything about you, but from what I’ve heard, everyone loses.”
Kent shook his head again. “I don’t get it. It’s just a recording?”
“It’s seven recordings. You listen to one each night, while you sleep. You haven’t heard of this?”
“No.”
“Look it up—it’s super fucked up. But don’t do it—whatever you do, don’t try it. You might think it’s funny, but it’s serious.”
So when Kent got home an hour later, he looked it up. He found a post about it on Reddit. The poster was calling it ‘The ultimate way to test your manliness’. And Kent was intrigued. He read through the post. Essentially, it was just seven five-hour long recordings of a woman’s voice. She apparently starts by talking about how much she likes shopping at the mall, and then the recordings get more and more intense. But the poster didn’t say how they got more intense. “But you’ll be asleep, and you won’t remember any of it.”
Kent downloaded the first five-hour recording and played a bit of it. It seemed harmless: literally just a girl with a British accent talking about how she likes trying on different pairs of shoes. “That’s it?” Kent said aloud. Then he found a website full of people who failed—and they were happy that they failed. “I’m so glad I did the test. I love my new sissy life.” They would post pictures of themselves all dolled up in women’s clothing and makeup. It was a terrifying sight—and Kent was sure that it was fake. There was no way a recording could turn a sane straight man into that. It must have been a farce. The site must have been fake—made by a bunch of kids as a joke. When Kent was a kid, kids would dare each other to go into a dark bathroom, look in the mirror, and say “Bloody Mary” three times. And everyone would chicken out. This was probably no different.
But then what were those guys talking about in the bar? The deconditioning websites were real. There was even a facility in New Hampshire that offered a ‘Ten Day Sissy Hypno Deconditioning Retreat’. And it certainly looked real. The site was full of pictures and testimonies. It seemed like too much work for a simple little gag.
So if it was real, was it really the ultimate test of one’s manliness? If Kent could listen to all seven recordings over the next week and still be happy as a straight, normal man, did that mean that he was truly a manly man, no matter what any Swedish models said to him on the street?
Kent grabbed a pair of headphones and went off to bed with his computer by his side. He was tired and pretty sure he would fall asleep immediately. He started the recording and then he closed his eyes. He figured he could just stop the test if he was feeling like it was actually affecting his mind. But he was positive that he would wake up in the morning feeling no different than how he felt right now. Hell, he might even wake up feeling better about his masculinity.
“My favourite store in the mall is Saks 5th Avenue. They have the cutest shoes, though I can’t afford any of them. I dated a rich guy a few years ago who would buy me whatever I wanted. He bought me the most adorable pair of Manolo Blahniks. They’re black with a red lining. Oh my God, you would drool if you saw them. They look so cute when I wear a little black skirt. I’m always catching guys staring at my legs.”
Kent laughed at the ridiculousness of the recording. And then, within two minutes of the mindless blabber, he was asleep.
CHAPTER III
When he woke up, the recording was over. He sat up and pulled the headphones out from his ears and then he yawned and stretched out his arms. He felt better. Right away he remembered the incident on the street corner with the beautiful blonde Swedish woman, but now it didn’t seem like such a big deal. Andrew was probably right: she probably didn’t even look at him before saying it.
He stood up and looked down at his computer. He saw that the recording had reached its end, probably around 5:00 AM. He felt no different. He didn’t feel like he wanted to go to the mall to buy shoes, and he still wasn’t even sure what Manolo Blahniks even were. So he smiled, feeling like he’d successfully overcame the first of the sissy hypno challenges. He was one step closer to being a manly man in the eyes of all of the men who were terrified of these silly recordings. In fact, he was looking forward to the night so he could power through another recording and feel even more macho.
He had a smile on his face as he went to brush his teeth and shave and shower. In the shower, the pressure from the warm water made his cock hard, and it seemed like a good opportunity to rub one out before starting his Saturday, which he had free.
He closed his eyes and pictured that blonde Swedish babe, mostly naked, and glistening with warm, feminine sweat. In his imagination he stepped up behind her and gently cupped her soft breasts. If he couldn’t fuck her in real life, he could at least masturbate to the thought of her sucking his cock. So in his imagination, she sunk down to her knees and started to suck his long, throbbing erection. She was great with her tongue, slurping along his throbbing shaft, bobbing her head quickly, getting the tip of his cock down her throat without gagging.
She had a hand between her thighs. She was rubbing her clit in fast circles, moaning slightly as fluid began to dribble out of her, dripping off of her dangling labia.
Kent could feel his orgasm quickly approaching. He tightened his grip on his cock and started beating it faster. He took a deep breath in and then he let a long, relaxed breath of air out. “Suck it,” he whispered as he pumped faster and faster. “C’mon, suck it.”
The beauty bobbed her head fast in his mind. She pressed her lips firmly around his girth and spit began to dribble out the sides of her lips. Then she reached a hand around to Kent’s rear and she began to press a finger into his butthole. She pressed it in deep and then she began to thrust it in and out. It felt strangely nice, making Kent’s cock even harder—towering high and throbbing more intensely than ever before. “Shit,” Kent muttered, strangely aroused by the fun little addition.
She pressed her finger in to the knuckle and then Kent spewed warm cum into her mouth. He couldn’t hold on any longer. The euphoria was too great. His legs trembled and nearly buckled and a shot of warm pleasure shot up his spine. Then he opened his eyes and watched as the last strand of cum fell out from the tip of his dick onto the shower floor. And then he realized he ha
d a finger up his own asshole. He pulled it out quickly. “What the fuck,” he said, rinsing it off and then scrubbing it with plenty of soap.
His heart stuttered and coughed as a possibility came into his mind: maybe it was because of the recording. He quickly shook away the thought. No tape can make a man subconsciously stick a finger into his butthole. It was just a fantasy that got away from him—just a little impulse that he failed to control because he was tired and still worked up from a busy workweek.
Though now there was a lingering dread in his gut. He couldn’t stop thinking: what if that was because of that tape?
He was just about to leave his house when that lingering dread became overwhelming. He had the urge to go and listen to that tape, to the later part of the tape that would have been playing while he was in a deep sleep. He scrubbed to the last minute of the five-hour recording and then he pressed play. “You look so cute in those heels. Your legs are perfect. Do you like it when I finger your little boy-pussy? I wish I had an ass like yours. Look at yourself in the mirror. Don’t you just look so cute? Oh my God, I’ve got my whole finger deep in your boy-pussy. I can feel you clenching. I bet I can make you come. Bend over just a little bit more—that’s it. Right there. Can you feel that? You’re so hard, and your cute little dick is drooling. Oops, I think your girlfriend is home from work! Better get undressed before she finds you like this. I’ll see you tomorrow, beautiful.”
Now his heart was pounding. Surely it was just a coincidence. Or maybe he subconsciously got the idea from the tape—that didn’t mean the tape made him do it. It was just a stupid recording of a woman’s voice, and nothing else.
Kent deleted the recording and he left to go get some breakfast and some coffee. More than anything, he needed coffee.
Andrew met up with him at their usual diner, Red’s Diner. He took a seat next to Kent and then let a long groan out. “Where were you last night?” he asked.
“Where was I?” Kent said. “Where the hell were you?”
“I was at the bar, waiting for you. I had like three drinks and then I finally gave up on waiting. I went and met up with Kyle and those guys.”
“I was at the bar all night. I don’t know what you’re on about,” said Kent.
Andrew shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “We must have just missed each other, I guess.”
“I sent you messages.”
“Oh yeah, I didn’t have my phone on me. It was dead, so I left it at home to charge. Sorry about that.” He checked his phone now. “Oh yeah, look at that. You did message me.” He laughed. I don’t know how we didn’t see each other.” But Kent knew why he didn’t see Andrew: because he spent most of the night staring at the ground, afraid to look up and meet eyes with anyone.
Two women came into the diner and sat down in the booth next to Andrew and Kent. Kent looked over and smiled at one of the women, and she smiled back. She was cute, with her blonde hair cut short and a black choker around her throat. Girls who wear chokers out to bars are always looking for sex. Girls who wear chokers out of the house on a Saturday morning are usually looking to be gang-banged and bukkaked. Kent looked down to check out the woman’s lower half. She was wearing a tiny black skirt and long black leggings. She looked cute with her little crop top and—
Kent looked away quickly when he realized he was looking at a man in women’s clothing. That choker was covering an Adam’s apple and that crop top was covering a padded bra. It was her shoulders that gave her away, and the muscle definition in her arms and her abdomen. Girls aren’t quite that rugged—even the ones who spend half their lives working out.
The ‘girl’ sitting across from the little blonde was also a man in disguise, much less convincing than the blonde. Her long brunette hair was obviously a wig, and her makeup wasn’t great. Though her body could have fooled most men—and it had fooled Kent for a moment.
Andrew looked over for a few seconds and then he looked back at Kent with a grin. “Cute blonde,” he said. “Think I’ll ever meet a girl like that?”
“It’s a man,” Kent hushed. He felt redness covering his face.
Andrew looked back over and then back at Kent, now with wide eyes. “What? What do you mean?”
“Look at the throat, and the shoulders.”
But Andrew didn’t have to look (though he did) because the girls started talking. And their voices gave them away more than their Adam’s apples ever could. “I just love that skirt on you,” said the brunette to the blonde.
“Oh, thanks,” said the blonde. “I got it at Aritzia. Isn’t it just so cute?”
“It’s adorable.”
Andrew’s face was white with embarrassment. He tried to smile it off, but the embarrassment was just too intense. Kent couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. Accidentally admitting to being attracted to a man was so much worse than being mistaken for a woman for a brief second.
“Why don’t we go and finish our coffees outside on the patio?” Andrew said. So Kent picked up his mug of coffee and followed his friend outside. The sun was warm but the morning air was still cold, so Kent held it coffee with both hands, close to his body. “This whole thing is just out of control,” he said.
“What thing?” Kent asked. “Transgenders?”
“They aren’t transgenders. At least I don’t think they are. Aren’t transgenders the ones who go out and get surgery and stuff? These guys aren’t getting surgeries. They’re just putting on clothes and makeup. They don’t have tits and they still have their dicks. They’re just sissies. I can’t believe people keep doing that dumb thing.”
“What thing?” Kent asked, suddenly intrigued. His heart was pounding, remembering that strange incident that morning when he stuck his finger into his asshole without even realizing it.
“That Sissy Hypno thing. Surely you’ve seen the posts online about it. Kyle said he was going to do it—just because Erick called him gay.”
Kent forced a smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Never heard of it,” he said, lying. Though he wasn’t sure why he was lying. Maybe he was worried that if he admitted to knowing about it, Andrew might catch on that he was trying it. “What is it?” he asked, pretending like he didn’t know any better.
“It’s these recordings that turn men into sissies. It makes you want to be a woman. Apparently it’s some freaky stuff that the military came up with for enemy POWs. The idea was to basically effeminate men so that they aren’t dangerous anymore. So when they release their terrorist prisoners, they can be sure they won’t go back into terrorism, or something like that. Because I guess effeminate men are less likely to go around killing people, or something like that. I would tell you to go and look it up, but I would be afraid you would actually try it, trying to prove something.” He laughed, not realizing he was right on the money.
Kent was doing it because he was trying to prove something. Though he wasn’t trying to prove anything to Andrew or anyone else—just himself. But he had to keep pretending like he didn’t know anything about it, especially now that he’d established the lie. If Andrew realized he had lied, he could potentially catch on, and Kent couldn’t have that. This sissy hypno test was for himself and himself only.
“So never mind that weird shit,” Kent said, changing the subject. “Tonight—are we going to find some girls or what?”
Andrew’s face lit up. “Oh, I know of a party, not too far from your house. It’s a big house party. Mostly college kids, maybe a few high school seniors. They’ve got a few kegs. Should be a good time.”
Kent smiled and nodded and was already looking forward to the distraction. After breakfast, Kent went out to the mall to buy some new clothes—something a bit more obviously masculine. He’d been wearing a lot of zip-up hoodies, which a lot of girls were wearing. He figured it would be a good idea to go out and buy something less gender neutral. He found a nice sweater at a vintage shop in the mall, and then he decided to pull the trigger on a nice gold watch he’d been meaning to buy. It was thick a
nd bulky and very masculine. And then he went perusing down through the mall, on the lookout for anything that might catch his eye.
He decided to stop for a bite to eat. There was a line, but he didn’t mind waiting. He got into the line, and then suddenly he felt a nudge against his arm. “Hey man, you’re up,” said a man.
Kent was standing at the front of the line, with his attention turned towards the shoe store across the hallway. He was staring right at a pair of black heels on display in the window. But when did he even look over at the shoes, and how long had he been staring at them? What happened to the line-up of people in front of him? “Uh, I’ll just get a regular sandwich,” he said, still in a flustered state.
He checked the time. Ten minutes had passed in the blink of an eye. A cold sweat suddenly bathed the back of his neck as the barista handed him his sandwich. “That’ll be six-fifty-five,” she said. So he paid and then he got the hell out of that mall as quickly as he could.
And he managed to convince himself that it was just another coincidence. He probably wasn’t staring at those shoes. He was probably just staring blankly, thinking about the upcoming party, and those shoes happened to be in his line of sight. Just a coincidence—nothing else.
He went out for a run and then he took another shower. He made himself some dinner and then it was time to meet up with Andrew for the party. This time, Andrew had his phone on him, so coordinating a meet up was easy. They met just down the block. The loud music was audible, booming into the neighbouring houses. The party probably wouldn’t last long before the cops came to shut it down.
“You ready?” Andrew asked with a big smile on his face. Andrew loved house parties but hated bars. He seemed to think that house parties attracted a different type of person, but Kent was pretty sure the same people went to both. In fact, as he stood with Andrew on the street corner, he recognized a few people from the night before walking up to that booming house.
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