Archive-name: Bondage/njlist14.txt
Archive-author: Nurse Jones
Archive-title: The List - 14 of 20
Clearly, my numbering system is screwy.
From Nurse Jones,
Well, the hypnosis is progressing. I know, I know, this is
supposed to be something that only a qualified physician should do.
Possibly so. I've asked around at the hospital as much as I dare, and
the verdict seems to be that no lasting psychological damage could be
done, even by a malicious hypnotist. I won't argue, though, we could
be taking a chance screwing around with his sexuality, but all the
authoritative references emphasize that it is impossible to make
someone do something they really don't want to do. I read one refer-
ence (by an MD, not a stage hypnotist) that said the mythology about
the danger of hypnosis was started by psychologists as a turf-protec-
tive strategy.
References? There are hundreds. I used:
LeCron: Self Hypnotism. Signet Pub.
LeCron and Bordeaux, Hypnotism Today. Grune & Stratton, N.Y.
Cooke and Van Vogt: Hypnotism Handbook, Borden Pub. Co., L.A.
Weitzenhoffer: General Techniques of Hypnotism, Grune & Stratton.
All in the local library.
We read and talked it over endlessly. I am more afraid than he
is. I like my men to be men. Not Arnold Schwartzenegger or Rambo, but
not swishy either. Some of the most masculine men I've known were S.F.
gays, oddly enough, and I don't mean the leather set, either. I guess
being confident enough of your masculinity that you don't feel obliged
to demonstrate it 24 hours a day is my definition of a Real Man. Which
makes _them_ more masculine than the scratch-n-burp types from back
home. I like to feel protected and cared for though, and ... hell, I
don't know what I like anymore San Francisco, and relearned it in the
hospital cafeteria recently. But I might have tendencies....
I've told J to stop reading ASB. I'll save the fun posts for him
to read later, but here's where I ask for specific advice, and I don't
want him to read it. I finally got a post hypnotic suggestion to work.
I told him he would shave twice on Wednesday morning because his first
shave wouldn't be close enough. I told him he wouldn't remember the
session.
He did it. He says he didn't remember. This is really eerie. It
gave me chills. Feet still cold.
My Plan:
The first step is to work on techniques to get him into a deep
trance quickly. There are posthypnotic tricks that speed up the
process. Right now, I spend all my time getting him into a trance deep
enough to give me some influence. It seems we're always going down
stairs and escalators, deeper and deeper, ad infinitum. The books say
to gauge your success with tests like "You can't lift your arm," or
"You can't open your eyes," etc. They work. I made his face numb and
he couldn't feel pin pricks, even on his lips. Or kisses on the pin
pricks.
But before all that we spent half a week trying to figure whether
anything at all was happening beyond him getting a comfy lie-down
while I droned on at him for an hour. Twice a day now, on weekends.
Actually, I'm not really sure it worked, even still. It seems to have,
but I have to take J's word for it. He could have been faking, but I
don't think so. Besides I trust him. He believes it worked, I'm sure.
Something happened on Wednesday, anyway.
It was weird, though, I'm tellin' ya.
The techniques are easy, but it's hard work. It just takes
perseverance and trust and a little reading and a positive attitude.
And he trusts me completely: that's important. Equally important,
he has to want me to do it.
Back to the Plan:
Hypnosis aside, I/we have to create an outwardly female appear-
ance for him--all over--and he probably shouldn't be aware of the
details of the process if he is going to believe it. He has to look in
the mirror afterward and see a woman. Knowing how I did it would spoil
that. It has to seem sudden and miraculous, even though there is a lot
to do.
I'm going to do this from the ground up. I told you I got a
corset in SF? Did I mention I got one for him? He sent his measure-
ments no extra fittings, so keep your fingers crossed. And I got shoes
in his size.
I'm going to use a flesh-colored unitard, padded out to look
feminine. I have scads of sterile cotton wadding from supply to make
hips. I have a selection of pastel chalks to sketch on nipples, navel,
details like that. I'm going to try water balloons, guys, unless you
have a better suggestion.
Wig, makeup, fabulous fakes, false eyelashes, I've got tons of
that stuff. He has the face for it. He'd be better looking than I if
he were a woman.
I'm going to convince him his anus is his vagina, and then treat
it like one. Make him a contralto. Make him walk the walk.
Keep the light dim, him under strict control, and my fingers
crossed. But I can see that this is all a long way in the future. I
have a lot of work to do. A lot to develop in his head.
And most of all, I have to make myself feel like I'm making him
up for a play. Or a halloween party. Not changing him on the inside,
not down deep. That way, maybe I won't lose my favorite top. He's got
to go from being a definite man to a believable woman without me
thinking of him as anything ambiguous or icky in between.
That's the plan, troops. Elf mustered the shining-armor brigade
to present medals after the dismemberment of Little Retchid.
(Shame, shame, I should be magnanimous in victory. But instead I
think I'll be unbearable for a page or so. It just comes over me,
sometimes).
I think, for reasons of public health, Elf also had to relieve
some of you of your battle trophies: various internal organs, an
argyle sock, etc. An unruly bunch.
Anyway, Elf now has my scarf to tie on the end of his, uh, lance.
And I have to ask him to muster the troops again. Don't just stand
there shuffling your feet in the dust, boys. I need suggestions.
Kayvan, stop fiddling with your codpiece and tell me if this will
work. You're a hypnotherapist. Advice! I need advice!
WildCard, drop that scrotum, it's nasty. Besides, it belongs to
Rechid and you don't know where it's been. No-one would be impressed
by it anyway. Battle trophies are supposed to be big.
Pay attention, Strider. And for heaven's sake put away that pipe
wrench. I don't care if it is kippled. Or squicked.
And Gweeb, come out from behind BlackDouga and get in line.
Wizyrd will make a space for you. I don't think I want to know what
that is behind your back. Come on, let's see it.
Eeewww! That's disgusting! Explain yourself.
Stop mumbling and stand up straight Gweeb, or I'll put Moon
Knight in charge of you. He didn't get a piece of Richid and he's NOT
in a good mood. (Although I'm glad to see somebody polishes his
armor...)
Now speak up, Gweeb. What is that thing?
Arriving too late to get a proper trophy is no excuse, Odor-
Eaters don't count. Give it back to Richid; he probably needs it
anyway.
Now the rest of you, put on your helmets (Yft, that's not a
helmet and you know it. Give Kayvan back his codpiece) and pay atten-
tion. Sheesh! Talk about motley. Nurse Jones needs advice on how to
top Jay and keep his dignity so I can drop this role of a half-pint
Brigitte Nielsen and go gracefully back to being the topee.
Maybe it's up to him to keep his dignity....... Help!
Nurse Jones,
reviewing the troops,
a butch damsel in diaphanous fatigues,
hands on hips,
smile on lips,
rings on nips.
(deep breath)
Ten-HUT!
Now, boys, I want to thank you all ...
My Goodness!
How on EARTH did you all manage to do that all at the same
time...?
Hmmm. Remind me not to take a deep breath next time.
Still, Elf, I'm touched by the gesture.
My scarf looks nice.
Out there.
What the hell.
(deep breath)
DIS-MISS... Wait! I'm a top now! Maybe I'll just leave you like
this. After all, it's my post. (giggle)
Nurse Jones,
learning that monogamous
and monotonous
ain't synonymous.
Even among us
that be
anonymous,
Whose doggerel is an insult to the entire canine world, and who
promises to be nice to Richard from now on, even though he's
not speaking to anyone,
silent,
lurking, and
anonymous behind his real name.
--
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