Jay Hypno Writer

M4M kink writing. Control and transformation of men. 18+ only.

The office dad (chapter 2)

Read chapter 1 of “The office dad” before reading on…

Hal rode the elevator to the fifth floor and approached the glass doors of his new office suite. They opened with a soft hiss, and Hal hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, immediately hit by the hum of activity. The sleek, modern space was just as intimidating as he’d feared—polished concrete floors, open workstations, giant monitors, and the steady click-clack of keyboards filled the air. This is their world, he thought. And I’m just visiting. 

Hal tugged at his tight white dress shirt, feeling it ride up with his every step. The familiar pressure on his belly returned, his anxiety spiking. The shirt was pulled so taut that he feared it would give up any second. He tried to focus on the immediate task at hand—check in, find his way around, and get through the day without drawing too much attention to himself. 

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The office dad (chapter 1)

Hal stood in front of the full-length mirror, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his white dress shirt. It clung to his belly, pulling tight enough that he feared the buttons might pop off at any moment. The fabric stretched over his chest, the small gaps between each button creating a thin, mocking line down the middle.

He hooked a finger into the collar and tugged, trying to give himself a bit of breathing room, but it was no use. Great, he thought, feeling the material dig into his neck. It wasn’t just tight—it felt like the shirt was slowly trying to strangle him. Hal let out a frustrated sigh and took a step back, inspecting the damage.

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Emotional Support Boyfriend (chapter 1)

I’d always loved the idea of having a dog. You know, a loyal companion, always happy to see you when you came home, who made you feel like the most important person in the world. So when I finally decided to adopt Rufus, a golden retriever puppy with the biggest, most soulful eyes I’d ever seen, I thought I was ready for all the joy and challenges that came with it.   

Turns out, I wasn’t.   

It was a crisp autumn afternoon, and I was at the local dog park a few blocks from my condo, clutching Rufus’ leash like my life depended on it. Which, at that moment, it did. Rufus was full of boundless energy, darting from one spot to another, a golden blur against the amber and orange leaves scattered on the ground. I stumbled behind him, my bulky frame not exactly built for sudden, erratic movement.   

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Drone days

I sat alone in my dimly lit apartment, the neon glow of the city outside flickering through my windows like a dying pulse. My fingers hovered over my phone, scrolling for the millionth time through the last few messages I’d received from Josh. Like a lovesick teenager, I reread every romantic exchange, trying to figure out what I’d done to turn him off.  

Three dates, countless laughs, and then nothing. He vanished as if he never existed. It wasn’t like we were living out in the frontier sectors, where drones patrolled the streets, government agents monitored every breath, and disappearances were common. Josh and I hit it off like I never had with anyone before. Or so I thought.  

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On brand (My perfect dad 54)

Tom adjusted his tie for the third time, feeling the stares of shoppers as he walked into a store ominously called Suburban Savers. His tailored suit, a navy blue ensemble that hugged his tall, slender frame perfectly, stood out against the casual attire of the other patrons. He was acutely aware of the sweat forming at the nape of his neck, threatening to stain the crisp white shirt he wore beneath his jacket. Cody, meanwhile, was already live streaming their entrance, his phone held up high to capture every moment. The younger man, dressed in trendy, casual clothes, exuded confidence and charisma. His messy blonde hair and impish grin made him seem approachable, unlike Tom’s polished and somewhat intimidating appearance. 

“Hey everyone, we’re here at Suburban Savers with my new project. Say hi, Tom!” Cody said, turning the camera toward him. 

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Royal perfection

Author’s note: This week, I’m sharing a scene from a novella, originally titled Prince Hairy, which I wrote a while back but abandoned after the second draft. In the story, a bearish everyman named Brandon falls for Prince Thomas, a junior member of an unnamed kingdom’s royal family. The spicy gay romance plot also incorporates elements of dystopia and horror, as courtiers use hypnosis and chastity to transform Brandon into the perfect royal consort. 


The door to the chamber stood open, a silent invitation that filled Brandon with a sense of foreboding. The room beyond was clinical and utilitarian, a stark contrast to the opulence of the palace above. The walls were painted a cold, sterile white, and the air was filled with the hum of machinery and the scent of antiseptic. In the center of the room sat a large, padded chair, surrounded by an array of medical equipment and devices that glinted ominously under the harsh light. 

As he stepped into the room, Brandon felt a chill run down his spine. The oppressive atmosphere reminded him of the control and conformity that defined this world. The head psychologist, a tall, imposing man with a sharp, discerning gaze, greeted him with a polite smile, his expression one of composed professionalism. 

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TownFit

Bryan’s eyes scanned the street as he walked, his gym bag swinging lightly in his grip. He had moved to this quiet suburban neighborhood for his new job a few weeks ago and was eager to maintain his fitness regime. After scoping out a few options online, he settled on the closest gym to his new apartment. From the outside, it looked quaint, almost nostalgic, with a classic neon sign that read “TownFit Gym.” Unlike the sleek, ultramodern gyms Bryan was accustomed to, the building had an old-school charm.  

He pushed open the door, the scent of worn vinyl and faint sweat greeting him. It was inexplicably familiar, almost comforting. Inside, the gym buzzed with activity, but it was not the stereotypical health club intensity Bryan was used to. The patrons here moved slowly, laughed loudly, and seemed reassuringly at ease with each other. The average age appeared to be mid 40s, with a striking majority of the men sporting dad bods—soft around the middle but with an air of solid strength beneath the surface.   

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Night shift

Ethan had always commanded respect with just a glance. His beard, neatly trimmed to salt-and-pepper perfection, framed a face that remained strikingly handsome despite years of boardroom battles. Broad shouldered and tall, his mere presence was an unspoken statement of authority and confidence. But as he stood behind the counter of the convenience store, clad in a simple polo shirt and jeans that clung uncomfortably to his damp skin, he felt the weight of his new reality pressing down on him. 

Laid off and forced to downsize from his penthouse in the city to a one-bedroom apartment off the suburban expressway, he had been working nights at a rundown convenience store. The work was boring—few customers dropped by between ten and six—and the long stretches of downtime forced Ethan to confront the changes in his life. No one had any idea he had been a top dog in a C suite; anyone who saw him assumed he was just another middle-aged underachiever selling cigarettes and liquor on the graveyard shift. 

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Strings attached

Mick’s heart pounded as he stood motionless in the garage, awkwardly gripping his husband Paul’s hand. Ted’s laughter echoed around them, a chilling reminder of the power he now held over their lives. The air was tense. The scent of sawdust and whiskey mingled with their fear.  

Paul’s mind raced as his face ached from smiling. He tried to piece together how everything had gone so wrong and how he and Rick didn’t realize it until it was too late. Just a few hours ago, they had been enjoying a regular Friday night with Ted, their charming and seemingly perfect friend. Then everything changed.  

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Husband, Husband, Neighbor (Part 6)

Read part 5 of “Husband, Husband, Neighbor” to get caught up before reading on…

Every time I thought I’d reached a new low, another one awaited me. Two days in chastity had turned me into a whining, sex-starved basket case, and my husband—stranded on a work trip by an ill-timed blizzard—had had enough of me. After finding out he’d be delayed getting home, I uncharacteristically bitched him out over the phone. He punished me with a full day of radio silence. With no idea when he’d be back to unlock my chastity cage, I wasn’t just horny. I was hopeless.  

As my knuckles rapped against my next-door neighbor Mike’s front door, my face and neck flushed with embarrassment. I knew he was home—I’d been paying hawk-eyed attention to his comings and goings ever since my chastity-fueled arousal kicked into overdrive—but with every second I stood on his stoop, I felt more and more like the loser I’d become. If he didn’t answer the door soon, I feared I might melt into a puddle of horny humiliation.  

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