Pings for Jimbo

By JealousPervert
published June 27, 2020
2838 words
Summary

An old friend from James’s childhood takes advantage of his trigger.

A long time ago, when I was kid, my family took a vacation to LasVegas and one night we all attended a hypnosis show. I don’t remember much of it, actually, but apparently I got hypnotized just sitting there, watching and listening. (There was no video; I’m grateful this was before cell phones were commonplace.)

My mom, dad, and brother thought it was kind of funny, I guess, though I didn’t believe them at first. For better or worse, I’m one of those unlucky people who are highly suggestible, and my older brother Kent would often trigger me back into trance when he wanted to torment me, or win an argument, or make me do his chores. All he had to do was point his finger at me, like a gun, and say “Ping!” and I would go blank and only later awaken to realize that I had done whatever he said to do. It was embarrassing and kind of cruel, and my parents actually had to institute a rule that he wasn’t allowed to do it anymore – though, being kids, rules weren’t always followed.

As we got older, I really grew to resent it. Sometimes, when we were teens, he’d have his friends over and we’d be hanging out, getting stoned and playing video games or whatever, and maybe I’d get on his nerves or he’d want to show off. “Ping!” And I’d drink bongwater, or act like a chicken, or dance, much to his friends’ amusement. What was most unfair was that I couldn’t even fight back! I’d threaten to tell on him or hit him and he’d just “ping” me again – that is, until I clobbered him one night while he was sleeping. I held a pillow over his face and walloped him. I mean, I really let him have it, and he stopped after that. Our folks were displeased even though they understood he deserved it. But I always had to be on my guard; whenever hypnosis was used in a TV show or movie, I’d leave the room until it was over, just to be safe.

(Though there was this one time, at a state wrestling meet, when I was really anxious before my match and Kent triggered me to help steel my nerves and give me a competitive edge. I ended up winning, so it wasn’t all bad.)

Anyway. Other than that, it was a pretty normal childhood. Kent eventually went to college, and I followed two years later. He met the love of his life there, whereas I was so closeted I might as well have been in Narnia. Like I said, pretty normal.

After he graduated, Kent proposed to his girlfriend, and his chums organized a stag party. The bar crawl ended up at a strip club called “Dollz” and everyone else was having a great time but I wasn’t that into it – I probably would have rather spent more time scoping out hot dudes at the bars and feeling all anxious and conflicted, go figure.

When the lap dances started, I took the opportunity to use the restroom and then step outside for some fresh air, as the other guys had been smoking cigars and in the poorly-ventilated club it was starting to get to me. A few moments later, Chip – one of our mutual boyhood friends – came outside as well, cigar in hand.

“There you are, James!” He said. “Too much fun in there for you?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little melancholy. “It’s just, I dunno. Kent’s getting hitched next week and tonight he’s getting strippers while I’ve never even had a.. girlfriend.”

Chip looked me over and smiled. “You’ll meet the right person one of these days,” he assured me. He stepped closer and whispered conspiratorially, “So.. I’ve got a jay in my car. Wanna smoke up, for old times’ sake?”

“Why not,” I said, and followed him to where he was parked. We both got in his car and looked around to make sure we wouldn’t be busted.

I complained about the cigar but he said it would hide the smell of weed. Then he looked at me again and said, “Man, I’ll never forget that time we were all in your parents’ basement and MC Hammer came on MTV and you did his little dance. Fuckin’ hilarious! You remember, don’t you?”

“Um, afraid not,” I said, uncomfortably. (I think that might have been the same night as the aforementioned clobbering I gave Kent.)

“I remember it crystal clear. Man, you were zonked. What was it Kent did, he went like this…” And Chip made a finger gun and before I could object he touched my forehead. “Ping!”

Fuck. I could feel it happening. “Chip…”

“Ping!”

“Nnn–”

“Ping!” And down I went.

“Open your eyes,” he said, and I did. “Look at me,” he said, and I met his gaze. Then he said, “Right now you are forgetting your name. Your real name is gone from your mind.”

“Please–” I said, trying to resist.

He continued, “Your real name is completely gone. You will answer only to Jimbo. When asked for your name, you’ll only know that your name is Jimbo. Nod if you understand.”

I understood and nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“J-Jimbo,” I said. I was so angry yet also helpless. I could feel tears forming, at which point Chip said “Ping!” again and I went blank.

“It’s okay, Jimbo,” he said, rubbing my shoulder. “You’re okay. We’ve been friends a long time and you know you can trust me. We’re just having some fun. There’s no need to worry or be angry or embarrassed. You’re just a great guy who is so very agreeable, who can go along with whatever I say. That’s why everyone likes you, you know. You’re an agreeable guy who likes to have fun, and we’re just gonna have some fun, just us guys. You like to have fun, right, Jimbo?”

“Yes,” I agreed.

“You like cigars, Jimbo?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Mmm,” he said. “Watch me.” And I watched him as he took a long pull on his cigar, and he smiled, and sighed a thick cloud. “Man, there’s nothing like a good cigar. They’re really tasty and so very relaxing. It’s impossible to be stressed out while smoking a good cigar. I think you’d find it very relaxing, Jimbo. Even watching me smoke is relaxing, isn’t it? Anything that might be bothering you just seems to float away on the smoke, that’s right.” He waved his cigar slowly back and forth in front of me, my eyes following it. “You’re becoming curious about how relaxing it would feel to smoke my cigar, very curious.” And then he held it out to me. “Go ahead, try it,” he said. “It’s a little strong but I know you can handle it. It’ll feel real good to smoke my cigar, Jimbo.”

I took the cigar from him, put the moist end in my mouth, and took a tentative puff.

“There you go. You can already feel that relaxation washing over you. It just feels so good to smoke my cigar. Everything feels good while you smoke my cigar.”

It did feel good. With Chip’s encouragement, I took another puff, and then another. As the nicotine hit me, it felt a bit like I was melting into the softness of the car seat. It was really nice.

“I can tell you’re enjoying my cigar,” Chip purred. “It looks natural on you, you know, like you’ve been smoking them for years. It looks sexy, actually.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he said. “Macho. Anyone can smoke a cig but only real men smoke cigars. And you, Jimbo, you’ve grown into a real man.” There was a hungry tone to his voice.

“Thanks,” I said, a little flustered – and flattered.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “We’ve known each other a long time and you know I’d never lie to you. You are a cigar stud for sure. Say it.”

“I’m a cigar stud,” I said, taking another puff. “For sure.”

“Damn straight. In fact, I think cigars suit you so well, and they make you feel so good, that you’ll want to smoke one every day. That sounds like a good idea to you, doesn’t it? You like being a cigar stud.” Then he reached over and started to stroke my crotch through my pants, and I stiffened up. “It’s all right,” he continued softly. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Truth is, Jimbo, I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for a long time. You were always cute, but now – now you’re fucking hot.”

Chip’s hand felt so good. The cigar felt so good. I was getting turned on, and I liked it. I was a cigar stud, after all.

“Lemme have that back,” he said, and I took one more puff before relinquishing the cigar. He tapped the ash into the tray and put the butt back between his lips. He puffed, causing the cherry to glow. “You want some more of this smoke, don’t you?” He teased.

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said, and he started stroking the tent in my crotch again with his free hand. “But I gotta tell you, the smoke is going to make you very horny, much hornier than you already are. It’s gonna feel fucking amazing, and you might even realize that you’re starting to get addicted but it won’t bother you because the pleasure is so worth it. Are you ready?”

I nodded as my dick jumped.

I expected Chip to hand back the cigar but instead he took a deep pull and his mouth filled with a white ball of smoke. He brought his face closer to mine, and in that moment any reservations I might have had went out the window. I leaned in and kissed him, and between the exchange of smoke and his hand on my cock and his feel of his lips and tongue against mine I shuddered and moaned. Yes, I absolutely needed this, and as the kiss broke off I knew I needed more.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Fucking amazing,” I said.

“If you want more, all you have to do is beg.”

“Yes please,” I pleaded. “Please do that again!”

“Sure, stud,” he winked, and puffed harder on the cigar, right into my hungry face. His car was thick with smoke at that point, but I needed more and I didn’t care that he had undone my zipper to stroke my cock directly. His touch was electric, and when he again leaned forward with a mouthful of smoke I kissed him forcefully, desperately.

“Man, I love this,” he said. “I love watching you get all fucked up and horny on my cigar smoke. You love it too, don’t you, Jimbo?”

“Yes!” I panted. “I love it!”

He looked around again, making sure we still had privacy, and then he undid his pants and exposed his swollen cock. Then, he took the moist butt of the cigar and rubbed it against the glistening head, mixing saliva with a helping of precum while I watched, mesmerized. When he held it out to me, and I sucked that deliciously wet cigar, I could taste his salty nectar and I would have shot my load right then if he hadn’t said, “Don’t cum just yet.”

He replaced the cigar in his mouth and made a finger gun. “Ping!”

I sat back, blank and frozen as he said, “Now that we know you love cigars so much, I’m gonna give you a very special treat. Look at my cock, Jimbo, and watch it as it turns into a lovely cigar.” He grabbed his cock and moved it back and forth slowly as my eyes followed it. “My cock is becoming a nice, fat cigar before your eyes, and you need that cigar in your mouth. Just like you’re addicted to cigars now, you’re going to be addicted to the taste of my cigar cock. You love the taste. You need the taste. You really want to suck on my cigar cock and it’s going to feel so fucking good for both of us. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said. I stared at the magnificent cigar poking from his crotch, my mouth watering.

“Go on, Jimbo,” he ordered, and my head dove into his lap. I had never sucked a dick before but in my mind I was enjoying a great cigar. “Now keep your lips on it, just slide it in and out, slowly, yeah. Take it deep,” Chip instructed, as he exhaled clouds of smoke from his own cigar down around my face. I was jerking off furiously, moaning with pleasure around his slick, juicy cigar cock, dizzy with lust and the aroma of the smoke. “Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good,” Chip gasped. “You love being my cigar bitch, fuck yeah.” He grabbed my head with both hands, and thrust his cigar cock deep into my throat, bucking his hips. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum! I’m cuuUUGH, AAAH, FUCK! FUCK!!” I felt his hot load spray my throat and coat my tongue, but I didn’t want to stop and kept going until he pulled me off.

“Fuck yeah, stud!” He said, laughing. “Damn, that was hot.” He tapped the ash off his cigar again, which was now just a nub, and handed it to me. I put it in my mouth and he pushed me back against the seat, and began to suck my cock as I smoked. I watched myself in the side mirror, the cigar in my jaw, and I looked and felt so goddamn sexy as Chip bobbed up and down on my meat while his hands found my nipples and began to tweak them through my shirt. Clearly my dick wasn’t the first he’d had, and as I blew my smoke down around his head as he went to town, all the sensations began to build into the most intense climax I’d ever had. After swallowing my seed, Chip disengaged and gave me another sly wink, and we kissed again for a few moments before he rolled down his windows and disposed of the spent cigar butt.

“We’d better get back,” he said at last, putting his cigar dick back in his pants and zipping them up.

“Yeah,” I agreed, following suit. How long had we been absent? What if the others asked questions?

“We’ll just say we were smoking out my car,” Chip said, as if anticipating my concerns. “On that note…” He reached into the back seat and produced a Ziplock bag that held a variety of cigars. “You want another one?”

I nodded. I loved cigars, and loved dick. How lucky to discover them both on the same night!

“Well, I’m in town until the day after the ceremony, you know. I’m staying at the Hilton on 7th and Parkhurst. I dunno, how does tomorrow night sound?” He grinned.

“Great!” I said, staring at the bag. I couldn’t wait.

“Ping!” He said, and down I went again. “Okay, you can remember now that your name is James. Jimbo is a special name for you that only I get to use. James is your everyday name, and it goes with your everyday personality.”

He withdrew one of the cigars from the bag and slowly ran it under my nose, filling my nostrils with the woody, spicy smell. “But when I address you as Jimbo, I’m speaking to that part of you that loves smoking cigars and fucking around with other guys. Jimbo the sexy cigar stud. In fact, tomorrow night, Jimbo is gonna fuck my ass and make me his cigar bitch. Yeah, Jimbo’s gonna pillage my ass and fill my guts full of cum. Say yes if you understand.”

My dick started to get hard again. “Yes,” I said.

“Good. And bring one of your old singlets if you have any. I’d love to see some of your old moves. Got that?” He tucked the cigar into my shirt pocket. I nodded, and he said, “On three, James, you’ll be fully awake, fully alert, and back to your regular self. One, two, three.”

I blinked a few times and looked at him, and I wanted to say – what? Fuck you? Thank you? But he was already out of the car and walking back toward the club, knowing that he’d see me (or “Jimbo”) again soon enough…

Hot
Mind control
Wanking material
Writing
Idea
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