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...

Julius, or J-Dawg as he was once dubbed in third grade, rips his gaze away from the pendulum, shifting in his skin as he returns to reality. Seeing the old barn around him, the shovel gripped in his hand, the boots encasing his feet, he seems lost until he finds me.

"Sup, dude," a winning grin appears, "It's been awhile..." He relaxes into his typical self.

"Ahem," I clear my throat impatiently, and give him a look that can only mean, 'seriously?'

He freezes just before he could try and dap me up, tense again, looking past me like a huge realization is breaking in his mind, jolting himself with panicked embarrassment.

"Oh, shit," he flushes, ripping a hand back and mumbling a quiet, "Forget I did that."

I hide my amusement.

He straightens up and looks my way, "Sir."

I nod to show my approval, trying not to smile.

He smirks in relief, "I'm off to a lame start, sir," the lax confidence has returned to his body, comfortable knowing he's not making a fool of himself anymore.

"Just a bit."

He rolls his eyes, but maintains his cocky swagger, "Sir, I won't forget it again. Titles are cool. Showing respect is so awesome." The second part he says with a smile and a dip in his head, like bowing to me is something to show off. "Just so you know, sir, I hate it when guys don't show men respect," he ensures me.

"A disrespectful boy is no better than a Cow!"

"MOOOOooo!" At first, he's shocked by his own instinctual outburst. But once I laugh at his bellow, he chuckles right along with me like he's just delivered the best punchline.

"Wow, Jay," I laugh, "You do a great Cow impression!"

"MOOOOOOOO..." he blurts, more confident and loud than before, "...OOOooooo...yeah, sir! Guess it's easy to imitate, working around them all day," he laughs, unaware his great joke is just a stupid trigger I left in his head.

"Alright, now shut up," I sneer.

"Yes, sir," he says with a nonchalant smirk. In that brain of his, shutting up and following my orders is the coolest thing he could do.

"Answer the question. Why would I, or anyone for that matter, want to hang out with you?"

Julius does a good job of hiding his anxiety. I'm questioning his likeability, his coolness, the skill he's developed for so many years.

"Uh...I'll always call you "Sir" for one thing," he starts, "And...I've got a pretty dope lifestyle."

"You do?"

"Hell yeah, sir," he says it like it's obvious, "I work for you."

"You just started today though," I act like I'm unimpressed.

"Sure, but I'm committed!" he grunts, "Imma be a fucking great farmhand for you, sir! I mean just check this place out!" He gestures to the cattle, to my ran-down barn, to my dad's old work-wear I had him put on while he was under. "Look at these boots, these tools. I get to shovel manure all day, and do whatever else you need around here. What's cooler than that?" ...and he means it.

"You won't miss being a firefighter?"

"Hell no, sir," he says with a grimace, "That crappy job's for losers."

"And your relationships?"

He scoffs, like it's weird to even ask him about this subject, "I mean, family sucks and women are a drag, sir. A bunch of pussies, not sure what you want me to say about them..."

I'm glad he feels that way now. It took a while to erase his loyalty to friends and family. It took even longer to redirect his obsession with impressing pretty girls.

"What about your relationship to men?"

"Men are dope, sir," he lights up, "Yeah, I mean, I'd much rather hang out with men than a bunch of girls. Talking, laughing. It's cool to be around men, you know, help them out, get their drinks, serving them and whatever. That's the shit right there!"

Exactly as I programmed...

"And dicks?"

He chuckles and looks at me like I'm finally speaking his language, "Well, I mean, they're what makes men, men, so dicks are dope too, sir. The same thing goes. Cool to be around them, when they're out at least...serving them and the men they're attached to."

"You wanna serve mine?"

"Hell yeah, sir!" he barks, loud, with his chest thrown out, "However you want to use me!"

I laugh at his bravado, "Why don't you pull your pants down and bend over that wheelbarrow. Think you can moo the entire time I'm in you? It'd be just so darn cool to feel like I'm really fuckin' a big dumb animal..."

"Bet," he snickers as he drops the shovel in the mud, "I can be a dumb fuckin' cow." He slides his sweats down to his ankles and then flexes his arms, bragging, "I shovel their shit all day for a guy like you. I can act just like one!"

He bends over the dirty hay, already doing his best to get into character.

Before he can drop to his knees in the middle of the street, I slap his back and guide the dopey hunk away from his coworkers, forcing a laugh like we actually are old friends.

"Keep it down," I hush in panic, "You want the rest of your crew to hear?"

"Sir, I don't care if the guys hear," he assures me with pride, "I'm your cocksucking ATM, sir."

I park him on the other side of the street, away from the other workmen, and take a moment to study the complacent face staring back at me. He looks handsome, masculine, though a bit dumb. That could just be the result of my trance. Still, I don't recall a session where I turned this bluecollar hunk into my very own cocksucking ATM!

"What's your name?"

"My name is Bitch-Dad McLaborTits," he says.

I roll my eyes, more at myself than at him. I had obviously hypnotized him to believe that was his name while he was under.

"Your real name..." I exhale, "The name your colleagues over their call you." I gesture over at the men he'd walked away from. They seem to have gone back to collecting garbage for the moment, hopefully none the wiser.

"Oh...well, they call me Brian, sir," he says with a furrowed brow, unable to make sense of it.

"Okay, Brian, when did you realize you were my...um...cocksucking ATM?"

"Only just now, sir," he explains, pointing back across the street, "When I saw your face, I realized a lot of things. You are a real man, a god even. I am just something that can serve you, in my own way, sir," his hand extends the wad of cash out to me again, "Nothing else matters before I saw you..."

"Shit man, I really did a number on you."

"What, sir?"

"Nothing," I shake my head and snatch his $58 dollars, shoving it into my pocket, "But we've met before. Think, Brian. When did we meet?"

Brian, or Bitch-Dad, scowls as he thinks, which is probably difficult in this state. I'd help him, but for the life of me, I don't remember doing all this to this poor man's mind. Could I have really been so careless with my abilities?

"I remember," he lights up, "It was about a year ago, sir. Maybe more than that. And it was around this time of night too because me and the guys were just starting a shift..."

"Go on..."

"Yes, sir," he averts his eyes nervously, "Well, I believe you were stumbling down the street with a bottle in your hand. I went to go check on you and then..."

"Wait," I jump in, "Are you about to say I hypnotized you while I was blackout drunk?!"

"Yes, sir. That's what you did." He smiles.

I slap my forehead, already feeling a hangover. Last year, I was going through a dark time and had a bit of a drinking problem. I thought I'd left that chapter behind me, but the past is standing right in front of me in an identical scenario. At least tonight I'm not blackout...

"Ok," I groan, "So I hypnotized you while I myself was barely conscious, and left a trigger for you to become my ATM sex-toy the next time you saw me. Is that it?"

"Well, no sir," he admits, smiling "You pissed yourself, so you had me leave work and carry you back to your place, so I could bathe you and do your laundry for you."

"Fuck," I sigh, cringing at myself, "So I had you clean me up and then released you?"

"No, sir," he goes on, "You fucked me in the ass. You named me Bitch-Dad McLaborTits because those were your favorite things about me, and then you threw up on my head while I had your dick in my mouth. Then you passed out after telling me to leave and forget it ever happened. So that's what I did, sir. At least, until you made me remember..."

Fuck, I truly am the worst.

"So, then what?"

"Well, I'm not sure," he scratches his chin, "I walked outside and forgot all about you. Just went back to being Brian, sir. And Brian was really confused why he wasn't at work with dried throw-up all over his head..."

I shudder at the thought of what Brian went through because of me that day...

"Alright, Bitch-Dad. I'm going to wake you out of this trance," I move on, "But first let's find a restroom or something for you to blow me..."

"Yes, sir!"

And just like that, this burly garbage collector is eagerly guiding me down the street with a thick arm around my back. Unfortunately, I can see why drunk-me went for this guy. He's got a sort of boyish charm that goes well with being a sleeper sex/money slave.

Hopefully his crew doesn't get too pissed off that he quit hauling garbage cans with them for the last 20 minutes.

Hopefully Brian's not too confused when he wakes up with a sore jaw and no memory.

Hopefully his family doesn't need that $58 dollars in cash.