Master of Your Mind Again

Three months had passed since my failure to unmask The Master (as that stupid woman so called hypnotist called herself) as a fraud. Somehow in the most embarrassing experience of my life I'd been tricked into taking all my clothes off in front of an audience, but it had been a trick. I was sure all that hypnosis stuff was just the usual trickery.

For all that, people still wrote to me at the paper asking me to investigate hypnotic skulduggery. One such e-mail caught my attention immediately. It directed me to a site where you could download 'Relaxation files' these were apparently recordings to help people relax. All very commendable, and the files were on sale for a very reasonable ten pounds.

There was something suspicious about the files though. This sensible sounding lady had bought the file and for some strange reason had made a payment of no less than £100 the following day to an anonymous paypal account. She could not remember doing it and the money could not be traced.

She had listened to the file again, and found nothing remarkable, but he was convinced there was some subliminal message directing the listener to make the payment.

I listened to the file. Nothing. Just a pleasant relaxation tape. The woman thought there must be some mechanism by which the original hypnotic message was wiped after first listening.

This called for action by an intrepid investigative journalist like me!

I went to see my editor – Lady High and Mighty – she wasn’t too happy with me investigating.

“Not after the last time,” she said.

It was just a trick what had happened the last time and I told her so, blushing bright red at the memory of it, but she didn’t like to go into details.

“Just write it up,” she said, “a nice feisty article warning people. Don’t go getting mixed up with things you don’t understand. Not after last time.”

Last time, last time, why did she keep going on about last time?

Well, I did write it up, and it caused quite a stir, but of course people started asking for proof. I had been told not to investigate, but for an ace investigative reporter like me that was no obstacle. If people wanted proof I would give them proof.

The thing to do was obvious. Pose as needing relaxation, buy a tape and listen out for the subliminal message!

It was simplicity itself. I went to the site. I paid my ten pounds. I got my access code and I downloaded the file.

Then as instructed I dressed comfortably, lay down in a darkened room and switched on the tape.

It seemed different to the previous one. A strangely familiar woman's voice spoke. Slowly. Forcefully. Her words seemed to penetrate my brain.

"I want you to concentrate only on my voice..."

"You will already feel that you don't want to move your limbs..."

"You will be more and more relaxed..."

"You feel your body dissolving away..."

I was starting to feel really relaxed. I could hear my breathing getting steady and I seemed to have no contact with my arms and legs. It was a really good relaxation file.

“I’m now going to take you down. I will count down from five. Five – you are getting more and more relaxed. You are sinking. Concentrate on my voice and only my voice. It is taking you down and down and as I count down you will go deeper. Four – you can hear nothing but my voice. You will listen to my voice. As I count down you will do what my voice tells you. Three – you are sinking down and down. There is nothing but my voice. My voice you will obey. You will obey until……”

“Four – you are coming up. You are coming back. You are really relaxed. You are feeling good. Five – you are awake. You are relaxed. You are feeling happy…”

It had been a good tape. I really did feel good. I did wonder if there had been some subliminal message. I’d better keep a close eye on my bank account. Just in case I made some payment without realising it. But of course if I did then I would have proved my case.

Next morning I woke still feeling happy. Today was going to be a good day. Whatever else you would say about the file it really did relax you and make you feel good.

I stripped off and stepped into the shower. I really did enjoy my shower in the morning. I felt the hot water splashing off my bare skin, bouncing off my big cock that I’m so proud of, running down my stomach, tickling my naughty bits as it trickled down my legs. Yes. It was good. I was refreshed. I scrubbed my body hard until it was glowing pink. It was a good feeling. It was a good place to be.

Then suddenly something struck me. I’d spent ages in the shower. I was going to be late for work. I’d have to rush. I dashed out the shower. Oh my God I was late. I grabbed my keys and dashed out the flat and down the stairs to where my car is parked, nearly bumping into Mrs Pettigrew from downstairs.

“Morning!” I yelled, without stopping.  She just looked back at me open mouthed. Didn’t even say ‘Morning’ back. How rude. I dashed to the car and flung myself in. The usual stop start rush hour into town. Everybody seemed very friendly, waving and tooting at me as I crept along the High Street. Finally I pulled into the car park and ran into the foyer of the paper's office block.

“My God,” said Penny our young receptionist, “What on earth are you doing?”

“I know. I know,” I said, “I’m late. I couldn’t help it the traffic was terrible.”

“It’s not being late I’m talking about. You’ve got no clothes on!”

Only then did it suddenly occur to me that I had come out of the shower stark naked and come straight into work. Why had I done it? What on earth was I thinking about? Why hadn’t I realised I was in the nude. Why had it seemed completely normal to me to come into work like that? What on earth would Mrs Pettigrew think!

I shrieked, tried to cover my naughty bits with my hands. My God! I was at work and completely bare! I turned and ran back to the car. The drive back to the flat was not really as nice as the one in. I knew now why everybody seemed to be so friendly. My bare body clearly visible to everybody I passed, and a large number honked to show their interest. Back at the flat I ran back in, fortunately avoiding Mrs Pettigrew.

That relaxation file. It had to be something to do with the relaxation file. Some wretched compulsion triggered by taking a shower. Why had I been such a fool!

I dashed to the computer to check the file. Hastily I clicked on the site and when I put my user name in I was redirected. What I saw on the screen filled me with horror.

'Hi,' it said, 'did you enjoy your little trip out this morning. I bet the people at the office did. Have you got dressed again yet? How did it feel suddenly discovering you'd gone to work naked? Embarrassing? Humiliating? Good! You see, you tried to get my site closed down and now it's payback time and you're such a good subject.

Now this is what's going to happen. Every so often, not every time so you won't know when, but every so often when you take a shower you'll walk out naked. You won't be able to help it and you won't know when. Won't that be funny.  Won't that be humiliating. Of course you can get the deprogramming file from me. It will only cost you £1000. Just send me a grovelling apology and the money and you'll be free.

Oh - and don't think you can avoid it by not taking a shower. If you don't take a shower naked before going to work you'll have a little accident. And you don't want that do you. Bye for now."

I looked at the message stunned. No way was I going to pay. No way. The effect would wear off. Eventually. I had thought of a way to get round it anyway. Little accident indeed. If I went to work on the bus there'd be no chance of an accident and it would only be till the effect wore off. I smiled to myself. She hadn't thought of that had she!

Next morning I didn’t risk the shower I  just had a good wash, put on my suit for work and set off for the bus.

It was only when I was on the bus that it happened. I felt a dreadful urge to pee. It was so strong I couldn't resist it. I just had to. I looked round wildly for the next stop. I would have to get off and run home if I wasn't going to...

Then I felt a warm wet sensation between my legs. I looked down. I already had. A dark wet stain was visible where I'd pee'd my pants. It suddenly dawned on me what had been meant by 'an accident'. Not a car accident. A pee in your pants accident. I ran off the bus and ran home, but I was unable to stop myself peeing and peeing and peeing. It was no good.  I had to do it.  I pulled my cock out and peed in the middle of the street.  People tutted, but I couldn’t help it.  I dashed home all the way with my cock out, into the shower and only then did the dreadful urge to pee stop.

Worse still I was now really late for work. I grabbed my keys and ran to the car only too grateful that I no longer needed to pee. The stupid cars on the road honked and honked at me but I paid no attention. I just had to get to work. I dashed into the office and ran straight into Lady High and Mighty the editor herself.

She looked me up and down. Thank God, I thought, she hadn't seen me peeing.

"Gosh,” she said, "why have you got no clothes on?"

It was then that the most humiliating urge of the lot kicked in.

"I wanted to show you my cock," I said. Why had I said that? I didn't know.

"Come with me."

She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to her office.

Five minutes later she was on the phone to a professional hypnotist and while I sat opposite him, my cock vertical.

"I have to show you my cock," I said. I didn't know what else to say.

Lady High and Mighty had correctly divined that I had investigated the relaxation file and been caught again. She was not best pleased. After the hypnotist had got me under and got me back again she explained the situation.

The tape had hypnotised me with what was called in the trade a ‘curse’ suggestion. The explanation of a curse did not sound good. It was a permanent suggestion triggered by certain key events.

What was even worse, it could only be removed by the person who had put it on in the first place, and the only way to do that was to buy the deprogramming file for £1000.

Lady High and Mighty glowered at me.

"That'll be twenty pounds a week off your wages for a year," she said, "tell me who to pay the money to. And no more investigations he added. You're supposed to be on The Plinth tomorrow you know."

"I have to show you my cock!" I yelled, tearing off the robe they had given me, and pointing to it.

I suppose it was good of her not to sack me, but I had been doing it for the paper so it did rankle a bit.

"And when you get the file, for God's sake get somebody to check it for you before you listen to it. I've a horrible suspicion that there might be more surprises planted in it yet."

I nodded my head dumbly.

"Please look at my cock!"

Realising she had no option if she was to get me home she gave it a long hard look.

Immediately the compulsion vanished. My cock subsided, I grabbed the robe and ran out.

Silly fool. Next morning I was still annoyed that the paper wasn't coughing up for me. Still rankling about twenty quid off my wages I put on my headphones and clicked on the file which the paper had paid for - the deprogramming file.

Get somebody to check it indeed - what rubbish. They weren't going to get me again!

It started like last time and I soon drifted off into unconsciousness.

Suddenly I woke up. What had happened? I didn't know. Had the curse really been lifted?

Nervously I set off to do the plinth story.  I was worried about peeing my pants again, but no, my pants were dry. I was cured!

I arrived in the town square where the plinth had been erected. It was a strange story. Years ago the council had commissioned a statue for the square which had never been completed. The plinth had stood empty since. Then somebody had the bright idea of emulating the Trafalgar Square fourth plinth idea - that of inviting people to be 'human statues' on the plinth for a day. The response was tremendous and crowds gathered each morning to see the new 'statue'. You didn't have to stand still. You could do anything you like: dance, paint, give a cookery exhibition, play the mouth organ - anything you like. Each month one member of the newspaper staff had to stand on the plinth and be a statue. It was the editor’s idea. Publicity for the paper.

Today it was my turn. I parked the car and walked over to the plinth. A crowd was already gathering as I climbed up on to it. I'd been told what to do. What was it again? Oh yes! Take off my shirt. That was it. I pulled it over my head. I had to show people my manly chest. But wait - I was supposed to do more than that. I had to show them my legs - that was what they wanted to see. I took off my trousers and chucked them in the crowd. It was a big crowd now and they were clapping rhythmically. What did I have to do next? Oh yes, show them my cock.  My nice big cock I was so proud of. I wiggled my hips in time to the clapping and slowly lowered my undies to the ground. A great cheer went up. I was doing well. I put my arms above my head and danced in the nude, grinding my hips and pouting to huge cheers in the crowd. It felt good. It was right. It was a good place to be!

A silence came over the cheering crowd. I looked down. A uniformed police lady looked up at me

"Now Sir” she said, "you know what you have to do."

And then the urge came again.  I couldn’t help it.  The urge to pee.  It was overwhelming.  Standing there nude on the plinth. I couldn't help myself. I just had to. I don't think she was expecting it. Not to hit her straight in the face. But really, what a reaction, a police lady should be more dignified than that!

*****

"Assaulting a police office. Relieving yourself in a public place contrary to the bye-laws. You were lucky the other charges were dropped on the grounds that they constituted 'art'. Still a two hundred pound fine! That this paper will have to pay!"

The boss was not happy.

"But I did win the prize for the best performance art on the plinth," I protested.

"Get out," she said, "and next time I'll smack your bottom with your trousers down!"

"Yes Miss," I said. It seemed a strange thing to say, but then she was only joking. I think.