Made to Order


There really wasn’t any internal debate about what to do with Debbie at this point.  In five days, we’d be either dead or... a couple.  I used the crystal to command Debbie to go to her morning appointment early the next morning.  My cock quickly became rock-hard at the sight of her face going blank and the sound of the “yes, master” she delivered without inflection.  Apparently, they were still putting a little something extra in my food.

Mr. Scary must have had a talk with the scientists, because her morning examination took considerably less time than usual, and she was led back into the room, still entranced.  I pulled the crystal out from under the pillow and she immediately focused on it.  “Debbie, as you look at the crystal, you are going to become more and more obedient.”  My original intent had been to start the process of hypnotizing her to be herself…  But she was staring at the crystal with such fascination…  “You will do everything I command, because I am your master, and I control your mind.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”  Perfectly blank intonation.  My cock surged almost immediately.  I asked her if she understood that my words were her thoughts.  “Yes, master.”  I was hard.  It was time to get rid of my now-painful distraction.  I commanded her to kneel.  “Yes, master.”  I didn’t think it was possible, but I got harder.  The hell with a blowjob.  I rammed into her without hesitation, without foreplay, and without consideration for her.  She was warm, wet, energetic, hypnotically enthusiastic, and it was great.  It didn’t last long, either.  Debbie began to quiver, her insides began their massage, and I came with a scream.  I remember thinking that Debbie could be a lot of fun if we got out of this alive.  Then, I took a nap.

When I woke up, Debbie was still on her knees, awaiting her next command.  I couldn’t keep doing this.  I had to make some sort of progress with her.  “Debbie, sit down on the sofa, and take yourself as deep as you can go.”  I walked around the room to recollect my thoughts.  My continued existence was based on Mr. Scary’s belief that I could create a selectively programmable drone by hypnotizing Debbie into being herself, and then bringing her out of trance, which would return her to her now-natural state of being completely, perfectly obedient.  Once any new command had been given to her in this state, she would be returned to trance, and that command should be integrated into her trance behavior.  Sounded like a great idea—and it might even work—but where would I start?

Nothing on the EMCSA implied that someone could be completely psychologically overhauled in five days, save through magic.  Perhaps step one was to create that back door to her mind.  My musing was interrupted as lunch for two arrived; was it noon already?  There was a note on the tray that read, “You have her until seven, then she has her evening appointment.  I hope you can put the extra time to better use.”  Four-and-a-half days left.

It became apparent that the first thing I had to do was to get Debbie to eat on her own.  She’d always taken her meals at the examinations.  “Debbie, open your eyes and look at the crystal.”  Oh, that beautiful blank face…  “I want you to go back into the past, beyond when you came to work.  Can you find that memory?”

“Yes, master.”  My pants started to feel tight again.

“Do remember what happens when someone brings you food?”  She did.  “Now, when it is time to eat, you will use those memories to be able to act appropriately.  You do not need to await a command from your master.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, master.”  As exciting as it was the way she said it and the way she looked when she said it, it didn’t make for the best conversation, and frankly, it was getting… boring.  I had to do something about that while I was at it.

“When I count to three you will open your eyes, and use the memory I just asked you to regain.  You will not say, ‘yes, Master’ during the meal.  You will not recognize me from any stray memory you may have related to eating.  If you begin to recognize me, you will see me as a stranger eating in the same area of a restaurant and think nothing of it.”  I didn’t want her to recognize me as her neighbor quite yet, and so I went into the other room to eat my meal and think about my next moves.


“CS.  DS.  LO.  Obey and Become.  Ten-Gamma-Ten.”  With those words, I began creating the entrance to Debbie’s waking state of absolute obedience.  She watched the crystal, fascinated, but I spoke of how she would awaken from her trance upon hearing these words.  “When you are awakened by these words, you will learn what you are told, you will remember what you are told when it is time.”  The key to any induction (in this case, inverse induction) is repetition.  Debbie was focused on the crystal for hours while I repeated her instructions to awaken, learn, obey, and become.

“Zero-close-zero.  When you hear those words you will go back into your hypnotic trance, deep, so deep into your hypnotic trance.”  I had planned to keep her entranced for the rest of her life, and to use the backdoor to her psyche to make—adjustments.  Maybe that would get Mr. Scary off my back, and I hoped that he would be pleased enough with the result to let us both live.  I took a break at dinner; my arm was hurting from swinging the pendant, and it was time for Debbie to go to her examination.

Our host appeared shortly after she left.  “Do you think it will work?”

“If I can get around the confusion that her trance state is her normal self, and her non-tranced state is the completely blank, ready-to-command Debbie, I think so,” I responded.

“Admirably noncommittal, Mr. Grant,” he smiled in that threatening way of his.  “You may proceed.  This idea… holds promise.”

After dinner, Debbie gave her master a shoulder massage.  I knew that I shouldn’t waste the time, but it was fortuitous that I hadn’t managed to affect the crystal’s effect on her, because now we were dealing with multiple levels of trance, and the crystal took her the deepest, giving me the most unfettered access to her memories and mind.  “Debbie, gaze once again into the crystal, going very deep, where my words are your thoughts now…  Who am I, Debbie?”

“You… are… my… master,” she answered, mouth slightly open, eyes transfixed on the crystal.  It was again time for her lessons about when she would awaken from trance, and when she would return to trance, to resume.


“CS.  DS.  LO.  Obey and Become.  Ten-Gamma-Ten.  Do nothing.”  Debbie’s expression became animated, but she sat patiently.  By two the next afternoon, I had her coming out of, and going back into, trance on the verbal command alone.  Now it was time to do something with it, and get Debbie to relate to my only slightly-less-evil alter ego, Ray.  “Your interest in your neighbor Ray has grown because someone close to him has told you reliably that he could be interested in you.  You want to find out what turns him on and what he finds attractive.  You will not see any negative signs about your weight from him.  He is open and attainable.  Zero-close-zero.”  Debbie’s eyes remained open, with no outward sign that she was in a hypnotic trance.

The crystal made another appearance, allowing me to begin restoring her memories, personality, psyche, and her life… based on her hypnotically retrieved vision of it.  Soon, it would be time to end the crystal’s effect on her.  I not-so-idly wondered if I could place a hypnotized person into hypnosis.  If not,  that would put an end to my hypnotic mind-control fantasies of Debbie, but I still had her waking state where I could make her do anything I wanted… if my theory indeed held water.  I needed a more—urgent—test.

Dinner with Mr. Scary took place during Debbie’s evening examination.  “So, if your theory is correct, then I will have a very satiated group of scientists.  You realize that she’ll be late returning from her evening exam,” he said, aware of the command I placed in her.

“It has to be something that she would not normally do,” I sighed.  “We’ve pretty well established that no one is able to control her except me when she’s hypnotized.  And I don’t think the lab staff can take too much advantage of her; she’ll fight like a wildcat, and there are already a couple of scientists with teeth marks in their dicks.”  He allowed that her previous behavior might discourage anyone else from attempting the same thing with her, but that this was a little different, since she was initiating the sexual situation.  “I’m not sure I have a choice.  I need to find out where she is in the process.”

“If this is successful, Mr. Grant,” Mr. Scary said, “you may have just earned the right to continue this experiment outside of the laboratory.”  It was a very tense dinner, and when Debbie came back to the room under her trance, both of us immediately went to inspect her.  She held out her hand, as programmed, to reveal a puddle of cum.  “Despite the… somewhat disgusting nature of your demonstration, it appears that your complex activation code does work.  Carry on.”  This time, he was the one to leave much of his meal untouched, leaving the room without any further comment.

After I had made Debbie wash up, she went back into the world of the crystal.  I continued to fortify her memories and persona, now being fairly sure that she would respond to me as Ray.  Finally, I decided that it was time to put the crystal away, possibly forever.  If I couldn’t have her fulfill my hypnotic fantasies… that was OK.  At least we were still alive.

I woke her up with the trigger phrase.  “Debbie, your hypnotic master no longer exists.  When you see the crystal, it will have no effect on you, and you will no longer automatically go back into trance.  The crystal means nothing to you; it will no longer send you deeply into trance.  Your master is beginning to fade away, and soon you will have no master except one that you may choose in the future.”  I left her in that state for the moment.

“I think she’s as ready as she can be.  I need a good cover story before I can wake her up.  She’s going to be normal, and this isn’t a normal situation,” I announced, figuring that someone was monitoring us.  The door opened, and Mr. Scary briskly strode in.

“Tell her that she’s in San Francisco, and just happened to meet you,” he said.  “I think you’re very capable of filling in some sexual pretext for being alone in her hotel room.  I will arrange for any details to be handled.”  He abruptly turned and left.  After a few minutes of thought, I decided that he was right.  We needed a sexual pretext.

“You got drunk in San Francisco, and got lucky, because you ran into Ray, who took you to your hotel room to keep you safe.  You are very horny, and very aware that Ray might be interested in you.  You will try to have a conversation with him to try to find out what he finds sexy, and for you to tell him what makes you hot.  The longer you talk, the hotter you will get, and you will have to masturbate, inviting Ray to participate, but when he won’t, you will resolve to try harder to make yourself sexually irresistible to him.  You will do anything to make him want you.”  It was now three in the morning, so I put her to sleep, and went to bed myself.  Tomorrow was Saturday, and somehow, we’d have to be returned to our lives by Monday.

When I woke up that morning, Debbie was already gone for her morning examination, and Mr. Scary was nowhere to be found.  They brought me my breakfast as usual, and I absently ate, thinking about what the next step in Debbie’s development was going to be.  I felt oddly distracted, as if my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.  I drank more of the coffee to try to wake up, but that didn’t seem to help, either.  In fact, it made it worse.  I got very hot, then felt very cold… and belatedly realized that they’d done something to the food or drink.  I didn’t even have enough time to get pissed off before my brain stopped working.  I never felt myself hit the floor.


I woke up by myself in the hotel room… no, that wasn’t quite right.  It was a different hotel room.  They’d drugged me and I had been moved again.  Where was Debbie?  The clock in the room said that it was almost eight… in the evening.  I walked to the window, and suddenly realized that I wasn’t in a simulated hotel room.  I was in San Francisco, at the Grand Hyatt, and the message light was blinking on the phone.  There was a package waiting for me at the front desk.  It contained a disposable cell phone with a telephone number punched in, but not dialed, and a check for five thousand dollars, made out to me.  Mr. Scary’s voice greeted me when I dialed the number.

“Good Evening, Mr. Grant.  I trust you’ve found your accommodations to your liking?”  Just once, I wished I could wipe the smirk out of his voice, but all the advantage was still his, and we both knew it.  “I want you to listen carefully.  There’s a first-class plane ticket for you on the two o’clock United flight, which is the same flight that Miss Stafford is booked on, although in Economy class.  I bet that if you talk to the agent at check-in, you’ll wind up sitting next to each other in first class on your trip home.  Your transportation will arrive between ten-thirty and eleven tomorrow morning.  She has no such arrangements.”

“What did I do to deserve this treatment?” I asked, not quite able to keep the hostility out of my voice.

“You’ve passed into the second stage of our experiment.  I am satisfied that your plan will work,” he continued without answering my question.  “Now, we have to see if Miss Stafford can be ‘mainstreamed’ back into her former life without ill effects.  The check you see is a… down payment… for your continued cooperation and participation, and to help with any… expenses you might incur.  It’s all untraceable, and the IRS will not ask any questions.  Understood?”  I acknowledged what he had said.  “Now it is up to you to implement your plan.  Miss Stafford is in room 814, and you have the key.  Remember that when she wakes up, she’s supposed to be drunk and… sexually inclined.  You are her Good Samaritan, although we both know the truth is quite less than that.  At some point, we will want you to test your trigger again.  We will be in touch.”

The line went dead.  I tried to re-dial the number, but the phone did nothing.  I resigned myself to the fact that I was, and would continue to be his co-conspirator until he chose otherwise.  I freshened up and made myself presentable, then left my suite for her room.  I wanted to wake Debbie late enough so that she would plausibly believe that she had been out drinking long enough to be drunk.

There was a note pinned to Debbie that read, “Mr. Grant, enjoy yourself.  We are not watching you as closely as in the lab.”  After burning it, I looked at Debbie, who was still unconscious, and I guessed that it was the effect of the drugs.  I had her trigger phrase on the tip of my tongue; there was no telling which Debbie would awaken.  I shook her gently, and softly called her name.  When she began to stir, I held my breath for a nervous eternity.  “Debbie?” I finally said when she opened her eyes.  The flat “yes,” that she gave me was a clue to her current mental state.  I said, “Zero-close-zero,” and watched her eyes droop sexily, then open, becoming slightly unfocused.

“Ray!” she half-slurred, half-purred.  “Guess I musta passed out.  Thanks for rescuing me.  I don’t know what might have happened out in San Francisco with me all by myself and drunk.”  She leaned heavily on me and gave me a wet smooch on the cheek.  Debbie sure was acting drunk.  She rose, unsteadily, to her feet.  “Excuse me for a moment?”  I said sure and watched her weave to the bathroom.

When she came out, she asked me what I was doing in San Francisco, and we started to have a general conversation about how fortunate she was that I recognized her on Fisherman’s Wharf, and happened to be staying at the same hotel.  “I came here to get away for a weekend, but whatever the bartender was mixing, he mixed it strong,” she giggled.  “I don’t usually get drunk like this at home… I mean, normally… I mean…”  She turned bright red, and then we both broke out laughing.

“So, Ray, instead of having a night on the town, you have a night with your drunk neighbor,” she said with a touch of flirtation.  “I’m sorry,” she began to apologize, but I waved it off dismissively, telling her that she had always seemed like a sweet girl.  Debbie blushed again, and then smiled, “Well… since I ruined your night by making you spend it with me, how about we play a game?”  I thought (aloud) that it was odd that she had a game for two people on a solo weekend getaway.  “Well,” she coyly admitted, her voice still a little thick, “it’s not played on a board or anything.  It’s called ‘The Naked Truth.’  Kind of like Truth or Dare, except that you can’t take any dares.  The object is to find out as much—sexy—stuff about the other person in the game.”  I asked about the naked part.

She gave me a shy smile again.  “Any time a person answers a question with yes or no, or lies outright, then that person has to take an item of clothing off, and you can’t repeat a question that’s already been asked by anyone else in the game.”  Her unfocused eyes fluttered.  “There’s a variation that if you don’t answer yes or no, then the person who asked the question has to take an item of clothing off.  I don’t know if I want to play that way, because I could end up naked pretty fast—I’m not good at this, I’m too analytical.  I always lost at the sorority house when we played in college.”

After a moment of fantasy concerning a roomful of naked, mind-controlled sorority girls, I cheerily said, “Aw… c’mon, Debbie…  This is your game.  I’ve never played.  I mean, this is supposed to be fun, and getting there is half the fun, right?”  Her eyes danced at me in serious flirtation, answering my challenge.  I was going to get laid tonight if I wasn’t careful.  “Who goes first?”  Debbie said that I should.  “Debbie, are you gay?” I shrugged, grinning, “Just wanted to get that out of the way.”

“Yeah, right,” she smiled back, before she realized that she’d been had.  Her face fell.  “No,” she sighed, “I’m not.”  She removed a shoe and stuck out her tongue, before looking at me with unfocused eyes.  “What turns you on, Ray?”  It appeared that her programming had held.  “What makes you crazy hot and horny?”

“Well…”  I hesitated for show.  “You can’t lie, right?”

“Right,” she said, completely serious.  “If I find out you’re lying, then you have to take off all of your clothes.”

“What happens if you don’t find out until later?”       

“Then you’ll have to do a strip-tease for me in my apartment,” she slurred, obviously still feeling the effects of her hypno-drunk.

“In that case,” I sighed, “I guess I’d better tell the truth.  I like women who smoke.”  Debbie couldn’t hide her surprise.  “But it’s not just any smoker.  If she smokes like, Mores, and she does it the right way, it drives me completely crazy.”  I feigned embarrassment before saying, “Next shoe.”

She complied, and said, “If someone gets skipped, the person asking out of turn has to remove a piece of clothing.  That the other person specifies.”  I asked her if that meant she wanted to ask a follow-up question.  When she said yes, I pointed at her foot.  She removed a sock, frustrated, but a little excited.  “So, what’s the right way and is it only—Mores—is that what you call them?”

“The right way…  I can’t tell you how, but I know it when I see it.  There are lots of clips on the web that can get me hot.  It’s not just Mores, but they’re definitely the hottest brand for me, especially in a cigarette holder with a woman who knows how to use one.  I honestly don’t know why, but the old image of smoking glamour, from back when smoking was sexy, affects me,” I explained.  “And that, my dear lady, will cost you your top,” I triumphantly said.  “That was two questions in a row.”

“Heyyy!!!  No fair…  You said you never played this game before!” she pouted as she struggled to get her top over her head.  She refused my offer to help while I maintained my innocence.  When she was finished, she thrust her chest forward.  “I know you like these,” she said defiantly.  “All guys do.  That’s one good thing about being a big girl.”  Her typical sad smile made a brief appearance, and it made me feel bad.  For a moment, anyway.  My next question was whether she was a virgin, and off came her other sock.

“OK... OK…” she sputtered.  “I have to ask this.  I know it’s going to cost me my pants.  So does it make an ugly chick attractive, or is it just beautiful women smoking sexily that gets you going?”

“If I find someone who isn’t the least bit attractive to me,” I began, “it won’t help.  Everybody else, it helps.  A lot if it’s perfectly done.”  I paused.  “And I’ll give you the next answer for free.  You aren’t in the first category.”  I saw the lights go on in Debbie’s still slightly unfocused eyes, and her nipples suddenly became visible in her bra.  “That was free, but the first one wasn’t.  Pants.”

Debbie blushed, and whispered, “You’re going to see my belly…”  I shrugged, and just looked at her as if she was no different from any other woman in bra and panties.  She was wearing standard panties.  “I’m in bra and panties already and you haven’t taken anything off yet,” she complained.  I asked her what her favorite form of foreplay was, and removed my shoe as she explained in detail where she loved to be touched.  “Does it—the smoking thing—make you crazy over a woman right away?” she asked, and I gave her a “no” answer and removed the exposed sock.

I kept the game going until I had managed to lose everything except my underwear, while she was still in bra and panties.  Debbie was still too hypno-drunk to notice that my questioning had changed, as well as my answers.  Now it was time for me to give her another push.  “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Debbie blinked, blushed, and lowered her eyes, before shyly reaching around her back, and releasing her bra straps.  She slowly removed it, dropped it on the floor, and then, her shy air vanished.  Eyes alight with sexual interest, she throatily replied, “Yes.”  Thrusting her chest forward, Debbie asked, “Is it working?”

I stood.  “It’s getting late,” I apologetically said, “and you’re drunk, Debbie.”  She began to rub her pussy through her panties, encouraging me with her eyes.  “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think you really want to do this.  I don’t want to do anything you might regret.  We still have to live next door to each other.”

“I won’t feel bad about it…  I promise,” she pouted, still rubbing herself while looking directly at me.  “I got drunk because I was hoping to pick up somebody.  I’m really horny…”  I asked her when her flight was leaving, trying to change the subject and add to her frustration.  “I’m not too fat, am I?”

“No, you’re not,” I honestly answered.  “But you are drunk, and it is late, and we both have a long trip home tomorrow,” I firmly stated, standing up to leave.  I gave her a peck on the forehead.  “See you back at home.”  She gave me her sad little smile, and stopped masturbating.  I left her room, wondering if what I had planted would take root.


I saw her the next morning at breakfast.  “No hangover!” Debbie smiled, seemingly having forgotten last night’s near-sexual encounter.  “I really appreciate you taking care of me last night.  I really got drunk fast.”

“That’s all right,” I said.  “When’s your flight?”

“Two.  Didn’t you say that you’re leaving at the same time?”

After a quick check of tickets, we confirmed that we were on the same flight, she in coach, and me in first class.  She told me that it was cool that I got to fly in first.  “Perks of a new program I joined,” I half-lied.  “Wanna share a ride to the airport?  I have a limo coming at ten-thirty.”  Reading the expression of disbelief on her face, I added, “More perks.  Maybe I can upgrade you to first class, too—if you wouldn’t mind sitting next to me.  I just have to tell them that we’re together.”

“You’d really do that for me?!” she exclaimed.  “That’s so incredibly nice!  Will it cost you anything?”  I assured her that it wouldn’t, but she still offered to pay me something for the upgrade and the airport trip.  I gently refused, telling her that it wouldn’t cost a thing.  Mr. Scary hadn’t ever lied outright, so I assumed that everything he had told me was still true.  The limo arrived as anticipated.  The clerk at the airport did seem a little surprised that her computer spit out a first class ticket for the seat next to mine with Debbie’s name on it when she hit the upgrade button.

The rest of the trip home was spent chattering back and forth, with absolutely no reference to Saturday night’s game.  Frankly, I think it was just because she was embarrassed.  She had revealed many things about herself and her sexuality to her next-door neighbor, even if it was under the influence.  Some of them were things that you wouldn’t share except with a significant other—and maybe not even then.  I was just hoping that she’d take the hint in my own disclosures.

This story copyright © 2006-2008, The Flying Pen

Next Chapter    Previous Chapter     Return to Index Page

Reader Feedback Page