#hypnojock

Tyler was interested in switching up his style and no better place to do that than your local mall. He entered through the doors through the food court and began his journey store to store. Endless stores with your run of the mill clothes filled with people packed like sardines. He was about to give up until he noticed a new store

This one had been added recently or maybe he never noticed it. The windows were so tinted he couldn’t make out what this place had to offer. Walking in before he went home wouldn’t hurt. He entered the store and was shocked to find so much leather and rubber. Stuff he wouldn’t be caught dead in. Everywhere he looked was a culture shock to this basic boy. He rubbed his hand over a shirt and felt a tingle in his body.

It felt like nothing he’s felt before. He could feel a *PING* go off in his brain and with no hesitation he grabbed a shirt. Something told him he needed to try it on. He didn’t see anybody else in the store so he grabbed a shirt and walked himself to the dressing rooms.

He stripped his jacked and plain red tee and set them to the side. He grabbed the folded black rubber shirt and slowly pulled it over his head

The shirt fit like a glove. He had to admit that though it’s not his style, he really enjoyed the way it fit him. Snug in all the right places. Seemed to cling to his body like second skin. He kept staring at himself pleased with what he saw. As he stared he hadn’t noticed the mirror began to swirl. Too busy looking at himself.

As the pattern in the mirror fully encased the glass, he felt confused. Eyes never leaving the spiral in front of him. His head felt light. His body tingling. He felt amazing. Then the thoughts began to enter his head. Obedience. Rubber. Slave. He felt like he was gonna pass out. He was slowly giving in to the spiral.

His brain shut down completely. He mumbled over and over “i am a good boy. Good boys wear rubber.”

He was completely hypnotized. The store owner unlocked the door to his stall and let himself in. He stared at the boy with lust in his eyes.

“You’re gonna make a fine slave. Isn’t that right my good boy”

Through the drool now coming from the boys lips he nodded and repeated “i am a good boy good boys wear rubber”

The owner handed Tyler some more clothes and ordered him to put them on. Tyler obeyed without hesitation. He followed the owner to the back room where his hair was cut short and his ears were pierced. He exited the store and returned home with bags of new rubber attire. Tyler wanted a change in style and that’s what he got. He would return to the store once a week for new items and to service his master. Tyler made sure to tell his friends of the great new store they should check out

The air at the summit was razor-sharp, but Wells was running hot. Clad in a high-performance, insulated golden compression suit that shimmered against the white snow, he adjusted his bindings while Coach stood over him, looking like a mountain of black and gold.

"Listen up, Gold," Coach growled, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You think snowboarding is just about the slide? It’s about control. It’s about holding your edge until the exact micro-second the gap opens up. If you lose your edge, you're washed. But if you hold it too long? You miss the ride."

Coach leaned down, his gloved hand gripping Wells’ shoulder, squeezing the thick muscle through the golden fabric.

"It’s like being on the pitch, Wells. Or back at the condo. You have to know how to lean into the curve. You have to be comfortable with the pressure. When you’re barreling down that mountain, the snow is trying to buck you off. You gotta stay stiff, stay focused, and let the board do the work. Just like when I’ve got you in a drill, you don't fight the weight, you absorb it."

Wells looked down the steep black diamond run, his Alpha instincts humming. "I get it, Coach. Hold the line until it’s time to strike."

"Exactly," Coach smirked, his eyes scanning Wells’ powerful frame. "I want to see you drop in and show me that stamina. Don't be afraid to get low. I want to see how you handle the deep powder. It’s thick, it’s heavy, and it takes a lot of 'effort' to push through. But once you’re in it? There’s nothing like the feeling of being totally surrounded by that pressure. Go on then. Make your move. Show me you’re built to handle the descent. And remember, Wells, if you wipe out, I’m the one who has to come down and 'pick you up.' And you know I don't play gentle when I'm helping a Bro off his back."

Wells didn't wait for a second invitation. He kicked off the edge, his golden form a blur against the white. He could feel Coach right behind him, a dark shadow of authority, watching every flex of his legs. By the time they reached the base, the sun was dipping, and Wells’ legs were buzzing from the strain of the descent.

"Inside. Now," Coach commanded, pointing toward the private timber lodge.

The heavy door clicked shut, cutting off the howling wind. Wells dropped his board, his golden suit steaming as the room’s heat hit the chilled material. "Sit," Coach ordered, pointing to a massive leather armchair facing the roaring fireplace.

Wells sank into it, his muscles heavy. Coach moved behind him, his large, powerful hands kneading the thick muscle of Wells’ shoulders through the gold.

"You did well out there, Gold," Coach murmured, his voice low and vibrating against the back of Wells' head. "You held your edge. You stayed stiff when the pressure mounted. But now… now you need to let that edge go. You’ve been 'up' all day. Time to come down for me."

Coach reached around, holding a shaker of warm, gold-tinted recovery fuel to Wells’ lips. "Guzzle it, Wells. Every drop. I want your system saturated. I want you so full of the gold that you can’t remember how to stand up without my help."

As Wells drank, Coach’s hands moved to his temples, his thumbs rubbing in slow, hypnotic circles. The combination of the fire’s heat, the heavy protein, and Coach’s rhythmic touch began to melt Wells’ Alpha focus.

"That's it," Coach whispered. "The mountain is gone. The pitch is gone. Just the fire, the gold, and my voice. You’re off-duty now. Just a big, thick, mindless piece of GA muscle. Feels good to be handled after a hard ride, doesn't it?"

Wells’ head lulled back against Coach’s chest. His eyes glazed over, reflecting the dancing orange flames. He was built to lead on the snow, but in the lodge, he was built for something much more… compliant.

"Good Boi," Coach smirked, looking down at his prized Leftback. "Rest up. We’re doing the double-black diamond tomorrow. And I’m going to make sure you’re 'flexible' enough to take whatever the mountain—or I—throw at you."