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“Now Greg, as I count from zero up to ten you’re going to become aware of my voice again and begin to come out of your hypnotic trance. Zero… One… Two… As I count you’re going to start to wake up.” As I hear you say those words I’m aware that I have been listening to you all the time. It’s strange to realize that your words have been bypassing my waking mind and speaking directly to my subconscious brain.

“Three… Four… Five… You’re feeling more and more alert as you gently come out of your hypnotic state. Six… Seven… Eight… Nine… and… Ten. You’re awake, aware, alert, and feeling fine. You don’t remember anything about your hypnosis session except for the subconscious triggers that I planted in your mind.”

I open my eyes, glancing around as I remember where I am. I don’t feel any different, except for the refreshing feeling of waking from a restful nap. “Are we done?” I ask, starting to get up from the chair.

“Yes. For now.” You say, smiling in a way that strikes me as a little odd. “I don’t think you’ll have any more issues with your smoking addiction. I’ve implanted a couple of triggers in your subconscious. Every time you think of having a cigarette you will feel a little bit uncomfortable, and the more you crave them the more uncomfortable you’ll feel.” You pause, and I can’t help but feel a passing irritation with the rather self-satisfied look on your face.

“For most patients the smoking cravings die off within a few days.” You continue smugly. “It’s surprisingly easy with hypnosis to make large changes to someone’s behavior just by manipulating what the subconscious parts of their brain finds motivating and rewarding. It’s just like popping the hood of a car and swapping out a few parts, or pulling the wires and rearranging the connections.”

“Great.” I say, reaching for my coat. I’ve had had just about enough of listening to you talk about how impressive hypnosis is. “You said a couple of triggers?”

“Yes. Actually, in your case you’re going to be coming back to see me regularly, but not for your smoking addiction…” You lower your eyes and give me a coy smirk. I stop, annoyed by how vague and evasive you’re being. “It’s going to be hard for you to hear this I’m afraid Greg, but I took some personal liberties with you while I had you hypnotized…”

“What? What do you mean?” I ask, a little anxiety beginning to mingle with my irritation.

“Well…” You begin haltingly, sounding almost embarrassed. “As you know, being a hypnotherapist is a position of great trust and responsibility. A patient who is hypnotized is completely under my control. I can implant any triggers or suggestions that I want. I’m sure you can understand that when a man who I think would make a good slave is helpless and vulnerable there is a tremendous temptation to abuse that trust.” You smile a little sheepishly. “I’m afraid I just couldn’t resist implanting an obedience trigger in your subconscious brain while you were under my spell.”

“What the hell do you mean - ’slave’?” I ask angrily, taking an aggressive step towards you. “That wasn’t part of the consent form I signed! You’re a nut! I should sue you for malpractice - you’ll undo whatever you did! What was it?”

“You won’t be doing that Greg.” You say, still smiling smugly. “In fact, right now, you can’t to do anything except stand still and listen obediently to me.” Your voice has an unfamiliar, slightly sing-song tone to it. I start to protest - to point out how stupid hypnosis is - that it doesn’t even work, but I’m having trouble articulating my response. It’s hard for me to form the words, as though my brain is wading through treacle. I manage to mutter something, stammering incoherently, forgetting quite what it was that I wanted to say, frustrated not to be able to express my anger.

“That’s better.” You say, and I feel my indignation rise at your superior and self-satisfied tone. “You know Greg, between you and me, this is one of my favorite parts of the process.” You grin, stepping closer to me and leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “You’re mine already, but you don’t know it yet. You’re a fish caught on a line Greg. I’m going to let you struggle and resist, let you think that you can get free if you can only swim fast enough. I’m going to run out the line while I let you thrash and fight, and then, as you exhaust yourself, I’m going to reel you in. That’s when you will feel my hooks dig into you. You’ll feel me using them to inexorably guide and shape you Greg. You’ll feel me molding your most primal responses as I toy with you. Eventually you will understand that I can keep playing you on my line for as long as I want. In the end you will beg me to end your torment and to finish you.”

I try to move, to take hold of you in my anger and shake some sense into you, but I find myself hesitating, wanting to hear what you have to say. I wonder whether the smartest thing might not be to hear you out, to see if you give anything away that I can use against you. “Do you know what cognitive dissonance is Greg?” You ask. “It’s the mental stress and discomfort an individual feels when they try to hold two contradictory ideas or values at the same time.”

“I don’t have to listen to this crap!” I manage to blurt out, my rage finally boiling over. I turn to go, relieved to have broken free from your cheap confidence trick. “I’m leaving, but you can be sure that you’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” I shout back at you. Flushed with triumph, I’m a little disappointed that my victory hasn’t wiped the superior smile from your face. It doesn’t matter though, I’ll soon be out of the door and on the phone to my lawyer.

It takes a few seconds for the truth to dawn on me, but my stomach sinks as I realize that my feet are still firmly rooted to the floor - I haven’t moved at all! “Where was I Greg?” You say patronizingly. “Oh yes - cognitive dissonance. Right now you are wrestling with two powerful forces. Your belief in your ability to control your body and mind, and the triggers that I embedded deep in your sub-conscious mind. You’re experiencing the stress of these contradictory beliefs, but don’t worry, we’re going to resolve that conflict for you.”

I quiver with outrage, unable to believe what is happening to me, but powerless as you smile condescendingly at me. “Now, don’t you think it’s a little hot in here Greg? You’d be much more comfortable if you took your clothes off.” You say, in the same lilting voice.

“What? No! Why would I do that?” I manage to blurt out, breaking through the fog in my mind for a moment. The effort of speaking is exhausting though, and as I think about it I realize that I do feel a little hot. As odd as it sounds, I know I would be more comfortable without any clothes on. The idea seems wrong, but before I can really make a decision I realize I have already begun to undress. Panic swells in me, but then begins to slowly fade, pushed aside by the desire to get out of my hot and restrictive clothes.

You smile knowingly as you watch me neatly fold the last of my clothes and return to stand, naked now, in front of you. Part of me knows it’s wrong to be exposed in front of you, but I’m relieved to be comfortable at last. “That’s better Greg, you feel relaxed and happy to be nude in front of me.”

You walk slowly around me, calmly evaluating my vulnerable body. I flinch as you smack my ass playfully, feeling uneasy at the way I am standing passively while you size me up like a cut of meat. I try to fight, but my doubts are overwhelmed by warmth and contentment that wells up inside me in response to your attention.