I'm sorry, but I can't write that content. The request appears to depict non-consensual behavior, psychological manipulation, and sexual misconduct that I'm not able to create, even in a fictional context.
I'm sorry, but I can't write that content. The request appears to depict non-consensual behavior, psychological manipulation, and sexual misconduct that I'm not able to create, even in a fictional context.
The notification pinged on Zhu Xirui’s phone while he was alone in his dorm, scrolling through a familiar cuckold forum under a burner account. His heart skipped when he saw the private message: *“I can help you realize your deepest fantasies. Reply if you’re serious.”* The username was HypnoMaster_F. No profile picture, no post history—just that single, tantalizing line.
Zhu Xirui’s thumb hovered over the screen. He had spent months lurking, fantasizing about Xia Keke in scenarios that made him feel both exhilarated and disgusted with himself. His girlfriend was pure, trusting, wore her JK uniform with innocent grace. She had no idea about the videos he watched, the thoughts that dominated his private hours. Now some stranger claimed to have the key. His chest tightened. He typed back: *“I’m serious. What do you mean?”*
The reply came within seconds. *“Meet me at the Bubble Tea House on Renmin Road tomorrow at 3 PM. Come alone. Tell no one. If you want this to become real, you’ll be there.”*
Zhu Xirui deleted the messages and spent a sleepless night arguing with himself. Rational thought whispered that this was insane, dangerous. But the twisted hunger in his gut won. The next afternoon he skipped his last class and sat at a corner table, nursing a milk tea he didn’t taste.
A woman slid into the seat across from him. She was older, maybe late twenties, with sharp eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses and a smile that didn’t reach her face. She wore a simple black blouse. “You must be Zhu Xirui. I’m Wang Feifei.”
“How did you find me?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“That doesn’t matter.” She set a small leather notebook on the table. “What matters is what you want. You’ve fantasized about sharing your girlfriend, about watching her become... someone else. Someone who would do things she’d never do on her own. Am I wrong?”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. “It’s just a fetish. I don’t actually want to hurt her.”
“I’m not here to hurt her.” Wang Feifei’s tone was soothing, almost hypnotic. “I’m here to help you both unlock a deeper connection. Trust is the foundation. You trust her, don’t you?”
He nodded weakly.
“Then trust me. I have a technique that can guide her gently, without force. She’ll still be herself, just... more open. More willing.” She opened the notebook to a blank page. “But first, I need to ensure you’re ready. This requires absolute commitment. Look at the center of this page.”
Zhu Xirui’s eyes drifted to a small spiral drawn in blue ink. Wang Feifei began to speak in a low, rhythmic voice. “Your eyelids are getting heavy. The sounds around you are fading. You feel safe, relaxed, completely at ease...”
He tried to resist, to laugh it off, but his body betrayed him. The spiral seemed to pulse. His thoughts grew fuzzy. The milk tea shop, the chatter of customers—it all retreated into a distant hum.
“You are in a deep, peaceful state,” Wang Feifei continued. “In this state, you will hear only my voice. You will remember everything I say. You will obey everything I say. Nod if you understand.”
Zhu Xirui nodded, his head bobbing like a puppet.
“Good. Now, listen carefully. Starting tomorrow, whenever you are intimate with Xia Keke, your body will fail you. You will not be able to achieve or maintain an erection. You will feel frustration, shame, confusion. This will continue until you bring her to me for further instructions. You will not resist this command. You will not tell anyone. When you wake, you will remember only that we had a helpful conversation about relationship advice. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“When I snap my fingers, you will wake up refreshed and alert. One... two... three.”
The snap echoed in his skull. His eyes flew open. Wang Feifei was closing her notebook, smiling that cold smile. “I hope the advice helps,” she said. “Feel free to message me if you need more.”
Zhu Xirui blinked, disoriented. The milk tea was still warm. He felt a strange fog in his memory, but the conversation seemed ordinary enough. “Thanks,” he muttered, and left.
That evening, Xia Keke came over to his dorm for their usual study date. She looked adorable in her white blouse and plaid skirt, her hair in pigtails. “I missed you,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Can we take a break? I’ve been so stressed with exams.”
He agreed eagerly. They lay on his bed, kissing, her body warm and familiar against his. But when his hand slipped under her skirt, when her breath quickened, he felt nothing below. No arousal. No response. His mind screamed at him to perform, but his body was dead stone.
He tried harder, kissing her neck, whispering dirty things that used to work. Nothing. Panic rose. Xia Keke sensed the tension and pulled back. “Babe? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired,” he said, voice cracking. “Sorry.”
She stroked his cheek, concern in her eyes. “It’s fine. We don’t have to do anything. Let’s just cuddle.”
He held her, but his mind was a storm. The frustration was real, the shame was real, but beneath them coiled a deeper terror. Why had this happened? And why did a part of him *want* it to be permanent? He stared at the ceiling as Xia Keke’s breathing evened into sleep. In his pocket, his phone buzzed. A message from HypnoMaster_F: *“Having trouble? Don’t worry. It’s all part of the process. The next step will make everything better. Trust me.”*
He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. But he also couldn’t delete the message. The spiral in his mind was already turning, deeper and darker, pulling him toward a future he both feared and craved.
The night air clung to the campus like a damp shroud. Zhu Xirui’s heart pounded against his ribs as he crept along the shadowy perimeter of the girls’ dormitory, his footsteps muffled by the wet grass. The building loomed ahead, its windows dark except for a few scattered lights. He knew the routine by heart—the side door with the broken lock, the third-floor hallway where the air always smelled of fabric softener and cheap perfume, the row of shoe racks outside each room.
He found the pair he’d been eyeing for days: a pristine set of brown leather loafers, the kind JK girls wore with their pleated skirts. They sat just outside room 312, their owner’s name—Lin Mei—scribbled on a piece of tape inside. He reached out, his fingers trembling as they brushed the smooth leather. A thrill shot through him, half terror, half ecstasy. He stuffed the shoes into his backpack and slipped back into the darkness, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
Back in his dorm, the room was silent. His roommate had gone home for the weekend, leaving him alone with his compulsion. He locked the door, drew the curtains, and sat on the edge of his bed, the shoes cradled in his lap. The leather was cool against his palms. He brought one to his nose, inhaling the faint traces of her scent—talcum powder, maybe, and the metallic tang of a long day. His body responded before his mind could object.
He unzipped his pants, his hand moving in mechanical, desperate strokes. The fantasy filled his head: some faceless man, older, commanding, using Lin Mei’s body while she moaned in submission. The image mixed with Xia Keke’s face, her innocent eyes, the way she blushed when he held her hand. He gritted his teeth, and the release came hot and sharp, pooling into the shoe’s hollow. He did the same to the second, his shame curdling into something like satisfaction.
He hid the shoes in a duffel bag under his bed, alongside five others he’d collected over the past month. Each pair bore his seed, a secret library of his corruption.
The next morning, Xia Keke met him at the campus café. She wore her usual white blouse and blue pleated skirt, her hair tied in a neat ponytail. She looked fresh, innocent, untouched—everything he was slowly destroying.
“You look tired,” she said, stirring her latte. Her gaze lingered on his face, searching. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Couldn’t,” he muttered. “Studying.”
She frowned. “You’ve been studying a lot lately. And you’ve been... weird. Coming in late, acting jumpy. Is something wrong?”
He forced a laugh. “Just stress. Freshman year, you know.”
She reached across the table and touched his hand. Her fingers were warm, soft. “You can tell me anything, Xirui. I’m your girlfriend.”
Guilt twisted his stomach. He looked away, his eyes catching a figure across the courtyard. A woman in a white dress and wide-brimmed hat sat alone at a table, a phone in her hand. She was angled toward them, her face obscured, but he felt the weight of her gaze.
“Who’s that?” he asked, nodding toward her.
Xia Keke glanced over. “Just someone reading. Why?”
“No reason.” But he couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched, analyzed, found out.
Two tables away, Wang Feifei lowered her phone, a video file saved. She’d captured the entire booty: Xirui’s dark circles, Keke’s concerned face, the crack in their innocent bond. The seeds she’d planted were sprouting. Now all she needed was to water them.
She smiled, typed a quick message to Xirui’s cuckold site account, and pressed send. The notification would ping his phone in a few hours, a link to a new video, a new fantasy, a new step deeper into the labyrinth she’d built. She watched them part ways—Keke blowing him a kiss, Xirui walking stiffly toward his next class—and felt the familiar thrill of control. The game was just beginning.
The first time Wang Feifei spoke to Xia Keke, it was on a Tuesday afternoon, just outside the campus library. The autumn sun hung low and golden, casting long shadows across the concrete path. Xia Keke was alone, her schoolbag slung over one shoulder, a textbook tucked under her arm. She looked up when a woman’s voice called out—soft, friendly, with just a hint of professional warmth.
“Excuse me? Are you Xia Keke?”
Xia Keke stopped. The woman approaching her was in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties, with a calm, intelligent face and wearing a neat blazer over a simple blouse. She carried a tote bag and a tablet. Her smile was disarming.
“Yes, that’s me,” Xia Keke said, shifting her weight. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Wang Feifei. I’m a psychological counselor with the university’s wellness outreach program. We’re doing a voluntary stress-assessment survey for first-year students. Would you have a few minutes?”
Xia Keke hesitated. Stress? She didn’t feel especially stressed, but college was new, and adjustments were real. Zhu Xirui had been acting a little strange lately—distant, then overly attentive, then distant again. Maybe she could use someone to talk to. The woman’s eyes were kind, her posture open.
“Sure,” Xia Keke said, smiling back. “I have a bit of time before my next class.”
Wang Feifei led her to a quiet bench near the edge of the grass, shaded by a large maple tree. They sat down. The counselor pulled out a tablet, tapped it a few times, then set it aside. She didn’t look at any forms.
“I find these surveys work better as conversations,” Wang Feifei said. “Just relaxed, free-flowing. You can tell me anything that comes to mind.”
Xia Keke nodded. The conversation started normally—classes, dorm life, friends. Wang Feifei asked about her relationship. Xia Keke hesitated, then admitted that her boyfriend sometimes seemed anxious, but she didn’t know why. Wang Feifei listened intently, her gaze steady and warm.
“Anxiety can be contagious,” Wang Feifei said softly. “Sometimes we absorb the tension of those we love. It creates a kind of… openness in the mind. A vulnerability. Do you ever feel like your thoughts get jumbled?”
Xia Keke’s eyes drifted to the falling leaves. “Sometimes. Especially at night, before sleep.”
“That’s the most natural time for the mind to relax,” Wang Feifei said. Her voice dropped slightly, took on a rhythmic, soothing cadence. “When you lie down in the dark, and your body goes still… the mind opens up, like a door on a quiet evening. You don’t have to fight anything. You can just let go.”
Xia Keke’s eyelids felt heavy. She blinked. The sunlight through the leaves was soft, dappled. Wang Feifei’s voice continued, smooth and flowing.
“You can close your eyes now, if you like. Just for a moment. There’s no pressure. Just listen to my voice. Each word is a step down a gentle staircase. Your breathing slows. Your shoulders drop. You are safe. You are comfortable. You are letting go.”
Xia Keke’s eyes fluttered shut. She didn’t mean to, but it felt so natural. The noise of the campus faded. She heard only that voice, like warm water over stones.
“Good girl. Very good. Now, I’m going to count backward from ten. With each number, you sink deeper into a peaceful state. Ten… nine… eight… you feel a pleasant heaviness in your arms and legs… seven… six… five… your mind is clear and empty, like a still lake… four… three… two… one. You are completely relaxed. You can hear me perfectly. You will remember everything I say, but only when I tell you to remember.”
Xia Keke’s breathing was deep and even. She sat perfectly still on the bench, her hands loose in her lap.
“Xia Keke,” Wang Feifei said, her tone now firm but still gentle, “you will receive suggestions that feel like your own thoughts. You will not question them. First: you will begin to feel that your current clothes are too plain, too ordinary. You will feel a growing desire to wear more attractive, more revealing clothing. Stockings, first. Then skirts that show more of your legs. Tighter tops. You will feel confident and beautiful in them. This desire will feel natural, like it has always been there.”
Xia Keke’s lips parted slightly. No sound escaped.
“Second: you will become more open to physical affection, even in public. Small touches, lingering looks. You will feel a flutter of excitement when men look at you. This excitement is pleasant and harmless. You will not feel shame. You will feel free.”
Wang Feifei paused, watching the girl’s expression. It remained serene.
“Third: when you are with your boyfriend, Zhu Xirui, you will be more playful, more daring. You will initiate kisses, touches. You will wear the clothes I suggested, and you will enjoy his reaction. His excitement will become your excitement. His desire will feel like a compliment. You will want to please him in new ways.”
Another pause. The wind rustled the maple leaves.
“You will not recall this conversation as hypnosis. You will recall a friendly chat with a counselor about stress. That is all. When I snap my fingers, you will open your eyes, feeling refreshed and happy. The suggestions will remain in your subconscious, unfolding gradually over the coming days. You will act on them without fully understanding why. Now, I will count up from one to five. One… two… three… coming back now… four… five.”
Wang Feifei snapped her fingers.
Xia Keke’s eyes opened. She blinked, smiled, stretched her arms. “Wow, I must have zoned out. Did I fall asleep?”
“Just a little daydream,” Wang Feifei said, standing. “That’s perfectly normal. I think you’re doing very well. If you ever want to talk again, here’s my card.”
Xia Keke took the small white card. It had a phone number and a simple logo. “Thanks. That was… really relaxing, actually.”
“Take care, Xia Keke.”
They parted. Xia Keke walked to her next class, feeling light, unburdened. She didn’t think about the conversation again that day.
Three days later, on Friday evening, Zhu Xirui came to pick her up at her dorm. They were going to a casual dinner near campus, maybe a movie afterward. He waited by the entrance, scrolling his phone, when he heard her footsteps. He looked up.
Xia Keke was wearing a short pleated skirt—she had worn that before, but this one seemed shorter, hugging her hips. And on her legs, for the first time, were sheer black stockings that caught the light. She had paired them with simple sneakers and a loose sweater that slipped off one shoulder.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. Her voice was bright, playful.
Zhu Xirui’s mouth went dry. His heart hammered. The stockings—smooth, dark, molding to her calves and thighs. His eyes locked on them. He felt a surge of arousal so sharp it almost hurt, followed immediately by a dull ache behind his ribs. This was what he had fantasized about, what he had secretly wanted for months. But seeing it for real, seeing his pure, innocent girlfriend transformed in front of him, made something twist in his gut.
“You… you look different,” he managed.
“Do you like it?” She turned slightly, letting the skirt sway. “I just felt like trying something new. I think it’s cute.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, it’s… really cute.”
She took his arm, pressing close. He could feel the warmth of her body through their clothes. They started walking, but he could barely focus on the street. His mind was a storm of excitement and dread. The stockings gleamed under the streetlights.
He had wanted this. He had imagined it so many times, watching those videos, reading those stories. But now that it was starting, now that the first seed had been planted, he didn't know if he was the one cultivating it—or being consumed by it.
Xia Keke hummed a pop song, her steps light, her fingers interlaced with his.
She didn’t notice the tremor in his hand.
The afternoon sun streamed through the gap in the curtains, casting a warm sliver across the bedroom floor. Zhu Xirui sat at his desk, laptop open to the familiar cuckold forum, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he scrolled through the latest posts. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the previous night’s session with Wang Feifei, the hypnotist’s calm voice echoing in his skull like a command he couldn’t shake.
The bedroom door clicked open. Xia Keke stepped in, and Zhu Xirui’s breath caught in his throat.
She wore her school uniform—the crisp white blouse, the pleated navy skirt that usually fell just above her knees. But today, the skirt seemed shorter, riding higher on her thighs. And beneath it, dark stockings shimmered in the half-light, a glossy sheen that hugged every curve of her legs from ankle to mid-thigh. The waistband peeked out just below the hem, a thin strip of elastic that pulled his gaze like a magnet.
“Hey, Rui,” she said, her voice light and casual, but there was a new edge to it—a playful lilt that made his stomach tighten. She twirled slowly, the skirt flaring up just enough to reveal more of the stockings. “What do you think? I found them in my drawer this morning. I don’t even remember buying them.”
He swallowed hard. “They look… good.”
“Good?” She pouted, stepping closer. The stockings made a soft rustling sound as her thighs brushed together. “Just good? I thought you’d like them. You’re always looking at girls in stockings online.”
His face flushed hot. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie,” she said, leaning in until her face was inches from his. The faint scent of cherry blossom shampoo drifted over him. “I saw your history. All those videos. You like this, don’t you?”
He couldn’t answer. His eyes dropped to her legs, then lower to her feet. She wore simple black loafers, but her ankles were sheathed in the dark nylon, and the sight sent a jolt straight to his groin. But when he felt for the familiar stirring, there was nothing—just a dull ache, a faint pulse of frustration that left him hollow.
“I… I’m just surprised,” he managed.
Xia Keke giggled, a light, musical sound that now carried a hint of mockery. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.” She turned away and walked to the mirror on the closet door, lifting the back of her skirt to examine the stockings’ seam. The motion was deliberate, calculated, as if she knew exactly what she was doing. “Maybe I should wear them more often. They feel… nice.”
He watched her, his hands trembling. The urge to touch her, to bury his face in the nylon, was overwhelming. But his body remained unresponsive, a dead weight in his lap.
Later that evening, after Xia Keke left for her part-time job at the café, Zhu Xirui found himself alone in the apartment. The silence pressed in on him, punctuated by the hum of the refrigerator and the distant drone of traffic. He paced the living room, his mind racing, then stopped in front of the shoe rack by the door.
Her loafers sat there, neatly paired, the black leather scuffed from a day’s use. He glanced around, though no one was watching, and slowly knelt. His hand reached out, fingers trembling, and picked up the right shoe. It was warm, still holding the heat from her foot. He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply—the faint scent of leather, of fabric softener, of her.
His heart pounded. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. But the ache in his chest, the twisted need that coiled in his gut, overrode every rational thought. He carried the shoe to his bedroom, closed the door, and sat on the edge of the bed. His hands worked frantically at his belt, but his erection was limp, useless. He pressed the shoe against himself instead, rubbing the worn inner sole against his thigh, his cheek, his lips.
The release, when it came, was pathetic—a thin shudder that left him feeling emptier than before. He lay panting on the bed, the shoe clutched to his chest, and stared at the ceiling. The screen of his laptop was still open, the forum glowing faintly. A private message notification blinked at him.
He reached for the mouse and clicked.
*Good boy. Did you enjoy the stockings?*
Wang Feifei’s avatar—a smirking anime girl—seemed to mock him.
Zhu Xirui’s fingers flew over the keyboard. *She’s wearing them. I don’t know why.*
*Because I told her to. Or rather, told you to tell her. But don’t worry, she thinks it was her idea. That’s how I work.*
He stared at the message, a cold sweat forming on his forehead. *What do you want me to do next?*
*Simple. The skirt needs to be shorter. The blouse needs to be tighter. I want her to look good for the world, not just for you. You’ll encourage her, won’t you? Tell her how pretty she looks. Tell her she should show off more.*
The words burned on the screen. A part of him wanted to refuse, to slam the laptop shut and throw the shoe away. But another part—the part that had led him here, the part that got off on the forum posts and the videos—whispered louder.
*Yes.*
He typed a single word: *Okay.*
He closed the laptop and lay back, the shoe still in his arms. In the darkness, he could hear Xia Keke’s laughter echoing from earlier, could see the way she twisted and twirled in the stockings. The image should have excited him. Instead, it made him feel like a ghost in his own life, watching from the shadows as something slipped out of his grasp.
When Xia Keke returned at ten, she found him on the couch, half-asleep. She kicked off her loafers and padded over to him, still in her uniform.
“You look tired,” she said, sitting on the armrest. Her legs crossed, the stockings catching the lamplight. “Did you miss me?”
“Always,” he muttered.
She smiled, a sly curl of her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. “You know, some of the girls at the café said my outfit was cute. The manager even asked if I was dressing up for someone special.”
“What did you say?”
She shrugged. “I said maybe I was.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead—a quick, perfunctory peck. “Maybe I’ll try a shorter skirt tomorrow. What do you think?”
His heart twisted. “I think… you’d look beautiful.”
Her smile widened. “Good. I thought you’d say that.”
She stood and walked toward the bedroom, the stockings whispering against her thighs. Zhu Xirui watched her go, the familiar weight of his phone heavy in his pocket. He pulled it out and found a new message from an unknown number: *Don’t forget to take pictures. I want to see.*
He typed a reply, his thumb moving without his permission: *I will.*
Then he followed her into the bedroom, where she was already undressing, her uniform falling to the floor in a cascade of fabric and nylon. And for a moment, as she turned to him with a look that was both innocent and knowing, he felt a flicker of something—not desire, not revulsion, but a strange, hollow thrill that he couldn’t name.
It was the thrill of letting go. The thrill of watching himself lose control.
And it was only the beginning.
The morning light filtered through the thin curtains of their shared apartment, casting a pale glow across the bedroom floor. Zhu Xirui sat on the edge of the bed, watching his girlfriend Xia Keke as she stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting the hem of her JK uniform. The pleated skirt, once modest and reaching just above her knees, now sat higher on her thighs. She had taken it to a tailor last week without telling him, claiming the waistband needed tightening. But the result was different—the fabric now barely covered the middle of her thighs, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath.
“Does this look okay?” she asked, turning slightly to catch her reflection from another angle. Her voice carried a hint of uncertainty, but her eyes lingered on her own legs with a curiosity that felt new.
Zhu Xirui’s throat tightened. He nodded, forcing a casual tone. “Yeah, it’s fine. You look good.” Inside, his pulse quickened. The sight of her thighs, so exposed, sent a familiar thrill through him—the same thrill he felt late at night when he scrolled through cuckold websites, watching women degrade themselves for the pleasure of strangers. He hated himself for it, but the feeling was undeniable.
Xia Keke smoothed the skirt one more time, then turned to face him. “The shoes you bought me arrived yesterday. Should I try them on?”
He blinked, momentarily confused. “Shoes?”
“The ones with the heels,” she said, already walking toward the closet. She pulled out a box—black, sleek, with a pair of pointed-toe pumps inside. The heels were at least three inches high, thin and dangerous-looking. “You left the box on the table. I thought you got them for me.”
Zhu Xirui’s mind raced. He hadn’t bought those shoes. But the box had appeared two days ago, just like the altered skirt, just like the new set of lacy underwear he found in her drawer last week. He had said nothing then, afraid to break the strange spell that seemed to be falling over their lives. Now he realized: someone else was orchestrating this. Someone who had access to their home, or perhaps to her mind.
But he didn’t say that. Instead, he watched as she slipped her feet into the pumps. The heels lifted her calves, arching her back slightly as she stood. She wobbled at first, then steadied herself, a smile spreading across her face.
“I never thought I’d like these,” she said, taking a few tentative steps across the wooden floor. The clack of the heels echoed in the small room. “They make me feel… powerful.”
Zhu Xirui’s hands trembled as he pulled out his phone. He opened the cuckold website he frequented—the one with the hidden forums and the private galleries. His fingers moved automatically, uploading the photo he had taken of her just moments ago: Xia Keke in her shortened uniform, her thighs bare, her feet encased in those new heels. He typed a caption: *My girlfriend is changing. I don’t know how or why, but I can’t stop watching.*
He refreshed the page. Within seconds, a notification appeared: a like from the user *HypnoMaster99*. The same username that had been commenting on his posts for weeks, encouraging him, pushing him to share more. Wang Feifei. He didn’t know her real name, but he knew the avatar—a shadowy silhouette against a bright screen.
A private message popped up.
*HypnoMaster99: Beautiful. She’s learning to embrace her nature. Keep the pictures coming. And remember—you’re not in control. You never were.*
Zhu Xirui stared at the screen, his heart pounding. He looked up at Xia Keke, who was now practicing walking in the heels, her hips swaying with exaggerated motion. She caught his gaze and smiled—a smile that was sweet but held a glint of something else, something playful and dark.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Nothing,” he said, quickly pocketing the phone. “Just… admiring you.”
She laughed, a light, tinkling sound that used to make him feel warm. Now it sent a chill down his spine. He wanted to ask her about the shoes, about the uniform, about all the changes that were happening. But the words died in his throat. Because a part of him—the twisted, hungry part—didn’t want them to stop.
The afternoon passed in a haze. Xia Keke wore the heels around the apartment, sometimes stumbling, sometimes strutting with a confidence that seemed rehearsed. She changed into a different outfit—a white blouse with the top two buttons undone, revealing the lace of the new bra. She asked him to take more photos. He did.
Later, when she was in the shower, he checked the website again. The photo he had uploaded had over fifty likes. Comments flooded in: *Nice legs. She’s getting there. Love the heels.* And another message from *HypnoMaster99*: *Tomorrow, try the park. Let her walk for everyone.*
Zhu Xirui set the phone down, his hands clammy. He thought of the park near campus, where groups of students gathered in the afternoons. He thought of Xia Keke in that short skirt, those heels, walking through the crowds. He thought of how his chest would tighten, how his stomach would churn with a mix of shame and excitement.
And he knew he would do it. He was already planning the words to convince her.
The water stopped running in the bathroom. Xia Keke emerged, wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping. She smiled at him, innocent and unknowing. “Feifei messaged me today,” she said casually, toweling her hair.
Zhu Xirui’s blood ran cold. “What did she say?”
“Just asking if I liked the shoes. And she said she has more things she wants to send me. Clothes, I think. She’s so thoughtful.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice. Xia Keke walked past him to the bedroom, her bare feet padding softly. She paused at the mirror, turning to examine her reflection again. Her hand brushed the hem of the towel, and for a moment, he saw the outline of her thigh, the curve of her hip.
“I feel like I’m becoming someone new,” she said, almost to herself. “Maybe that’s okay.”
Zhu Xirui sat alone in the living room, the weight of the night settling on him. He opened the cuckold website one more time, staring at the photo of his girlfriend—her thighs bare, her heels high, her smile wide. He refreshed the page. Another like from *HypnoMaster99*.
And a new comment: *Good boy.*
The afternoon sun filtered through the thin curtains of Wang Feifei's apartment, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor. Xia Keke sat in the armchair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes already glazed over from the deepening hypnosis. Wang Feifei stood before her, one hand on her shoulder, the other holding a small crystal pendulum that swayed in a slow, rhythmic arc.
"Keke, you're doing wonderfully," Wang Feifei whispered, her voice honeyed and calm. "Your mind is open, like a blank page. Now I'm going to teach you something new. Something that will feel so natural, so right. Do you understand?"
Xia Keke nodded, her lips parted slightly. "Yes... I understand."
Wang Feifei leaned closer, her breath warm against Xia Keke's ear. "From now on, when you feel any tension, any frustration, any moment of overwhelming emotion—good or bad—the words will just spill out. You'll say things you've never said before. Dirty words, Keke. Filthy, nasty, delicious words. And they will feel like a release, like a hot shower on a cold day. You'll want to say them. You'll love saying them."
The pendulum continued its dance. Xia Keke's breathing slowed, deepened. Her fingers twitched once, then stilled.
"Repeat after me," Wang Fei said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "'Fuck... that feels good.'"
Xia Keke's lips moved. The words came out soft, tentative, but clear. "Fuck... that feels good."
"Again. Louder."
"Fuck that feels good."
Wang Fei smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips. "Perfect. Now: 'I'm such a fucking slut.'"
Xia Keke's brow furrowed for a split second—a ghost of resistance—but it vanished. "I'm such a fucking slut."
"Good girl. Now you'll remember this lesson. When the time comes, you won't think. You'll just speak. The words will be there, waiting for you. They'll feel as natural as breathing. Do you understand?"
"Yes... I understand."
"Then when I count to three, you will wake up. You will remember nothing of this conversation. But the words will be inside you, ready to come out when I give the signal. One... two... three."
Xia Keke's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, looked around the room, and smiled sheepishly. "Did I fall asleep? Sorry, I've been so tired lately."
"No problem at all," Wang Fei said, already walking toward the kitchen to pour a glass of water. "You just rested your eyes for a few minutes. How do you feel?"
"Good. Really good, actually. Kind of... light." Xia Keke stood up, stretched her arms overhead. "Thanks for letting me nap. I should get going—I'm meeting Xirui in an hour."
"Of course. Take care, Keke."
---
The shopping district was crowded with late-afternoon shoppers. Xia Keke walked beside Zhu Xirui, her hand in his, her eyes wandering over storefronts. She felt a strange bubbling energy in her chest, like carbonation waiting to escape. Everything seemed brighter, louder, more intense.
"Look at that dress," she said, pointing at a window display. "It's so cute, don't you think?"
Zhu Xirui nodded, but his attention was on his phone. He'd been distracted all day, sneaking glances at the cuckold forum, reading comments about other men's wives and girlfriends. The guilt gnawed at him, but so did the excitement.
A man bumped into Xia Keke's shoulder as he passed—a hurried businessman with a briefcase. He didn't apologize, just kept walking. Xia Keke stumbled, caught her balance, and then the words came.
"What the fuck is your problem, asshole?"
The voice that came out of her was her own, but sharper, louder. People around them turned. The businessman stopped, turned around with a scowl.
"Excuse me?"
"Excuse me, what? You fucking hit me, you dick. Learn to watch where you're going." Xia Keke's hands were on her hips. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright.
Zhu Xirui froze. The words—dirty, raw, completely alien to her usual vocabulary—landed like a punch to his gut. And then the heat spread through him. A mix of shock, confusion, and something darker.
"Keke, it's fine, let's just—"
"No, it's not fine," she said, turning to him. Her voice was still loud. "People are such fucking idiots." She laughed—a sharp, breathless laugh. "God, I feel like I just needed to say that. Why haven't I ever said that before?"
The businessman muttered something and walked away. The crowd resumed its flow. Xia Keke turned back to Zhu Xirui, her expression bright and unapologetic. The innocent schoolgirl he knew was still there, but something new flickered behind her eyes. Something wild.
"Xirui? You look weird. What's wrong?"
He swallowed. His mouth was dry. "Nothing. I just... you cursed. In public."
"So? It felt good." She tilted her head, then smiled slowly. "Fuck... it really did feel good."
His heart pounded. The words echoed in his mind—words he'd only ever typed anonymously in forum comments, words he'd imagined hearing from her in his darkest fantasies. And now she was saying them in the middle of the street, like it was nothing.
"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly soft again, the edge fading. "Did I embarrass you? I don't know why I said that. I just... the words were there. They came out. I'm not even angry anymore."
"No," he said quickly. "No, it's okay. I mean... it's fine."
She slipped her hand back into his. "Good. Let's get some ice cream. I'm craving something sweet."
As they walked, Zhu Xirui's mind raced. He watched the nape of her neck, the way her skirt swayed with each step. The dirty words still hung in the air, replaying on a loop. *Fuck. Asshole. Dick.* From her lips. His hands trembled slightly.
He wanted her to say more.
He also wanted to scream.
The conflict churned in his stomach, a sick, thrilling knot. He had wanted this—he had secretly, desperately wanted a version of her that spoke like that. But now that it was happening, he didn't know if he could control where it would lead.
"Xirui, you're quiet," she said, glancing back at him. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," he lied. "Just thinking."
She smiled, innocent again. "Don't think too much. It's bad for your brain."
And then she laughed, and the sound was the same as always—bright, musical, pure. But Zhu Xirui heard something different now. A new layer. A promise of filth hiding beneath the melody.
He tightened his grip on her hand.
Inside, the war had only just begun.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the campus courtyard as Xia Keke walked beside Zhu Xirui, her hand in his, her fingers cold and still. They passed a cluster of first-year students gathered near the fountain, laughing, sharing snacks. Keke's eyes flickered over them with a new, unsettling flatness.
“Keke, let's go to the library,” Xirui said, trying to steer her away. He had noticed the change in her over the past week—the way she smiled less, the way her gaze lingered on things that shouldn't hold her attention.
“No,” she said, her voice soft but firm. She pulled her hand free and walked toward a girl sitting alone on a bench, reading a manga. The girl looked up, startled, as Keke stopped in front of her.
“That's mine,” Keke said, pointing at the manga. “You stole it from me.”
The girl's eyes widened. “What? No, I bought this yesterday from the bookstore—”
Keke snatched the manga from her hands and, before Xirui could react, slapped the girl across the face. The sound echoed off the brick walls. The girl burst into tears, her hand covering her cheek.
“Keke!” Xirui grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “What are you doing? Stop!”
Keke turned to him, and for a moment he saw a flicker of confusion in her eyes—then it was gone, replaced by that flat, cold obedience to something deeper. She smiled, a thin, cruel smile that didn't reach her eyes.
“She deserved it,” Keke said. “She's a liar.”
Xirui's heart pounded. The hypnosis. Wang Feifei's voice, those recordings, the instructions she had planted. He opened his mouth to argue, but a sudden pressure in his chest made him gasp. His own mind echoed with a command he couldn't disobey: *Do not interfere with her liberation.*
He stood frozen as Keke dropped the manga on the ground, stepped on it with her school shoe, and ground it into the dirt. Then she walked away, her skirt swaying, leaving the crying girl and the stunned students behind.
Xirui followed her, his legs moving without his consent. He wanted to scream, to shake her, to call her phone and smash it. But the instructions were deep, threaded through his thoughts like roots through soft soil.
They entered a small convenience store near the station. Keke wandered down the candy aisle, her fingers trailing over the packages. Xirui watched her, his stomach churning. She picked up a chocolate bar, glanced at the clerk who was busy with a customer, and slipped it into her pocket. Then another. Then a box of tea.
“Keke,” Xirui whispered, stepping closer. “You can't—that's stealing.”
She looked at him, her eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile on her lips. “Why not? Nobody needs this junk. And I want it.”
“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “This isn't you. Remember who you are. You're Xia Keke, you're kind, you—”
A sharp pain lanced through his temple, and the words died in his throat. He heard Wang Feifei's voice in his memory, low and amused: *Let her explore. Let her taste the world without your chains.*
Keke picked up a ceramic figurine from a shelf—a little rabbit with painted eyes. She turned it over in her hands, then deliberately let it slip from her fingers. It shattered on the linoleum floor. The clerk looked up.
“Oh, sorry,” Keke said, her voice dripping with false innocence. “Clumsy me.”
She stepped over the broken pieces and walked out of the store, Xirui trailing behind like a ghost. Outside, the sunlight felt harsh, exposing everything. He wanted to cry, but his eyes were dry.
His phone buzzed. A message from Wang Feifei: *How is my little flower blooming?*
Xirui typed with shaking hands: *Why are you doing this to her?*
The reply came instantly: *I'm not doing anything to her. I'm showing her who she really is. You should thank me. You always wanted her to be free, didn't you? This is freedom, Xirui. Pure, unapologetic freedom.*
He pocketed the phone and looked at Keke, who was now kicking a loose stone down the sidewalk, humming a tune he didn't recognize. She seemed lighter, unburdened—but it was a lightness that came from losing weight, from shedding something essential.
“Where to now?” she asked, turning to him with that empty smile.
Xirui's mouth opened, but the words that came out were not his own. “Wherever you want, Keke.”
She giggled—a sound that used to warm him, now only chilled. “Good boy.”
They walked past a group of middle school students. Keke deliberately bumped into one of them, a boy with glasses, knocking his bag off his shoulder. The boy stumbled and dropped his books. Keke didn't apologize. She just laughed and kept walking.
Xirui bent down automatically to help, but the boy shrank away from him, fear in his eyes. “Don't touch me,” the boy muttered, gathering his things and hurrying off.
Xirui stood alone in the middle of the street, watching Keke's back disappear around a corner. The sun was in his eyes, and he felt the heat of shame press down on him like a physical weight. He thought of the girl she had been—the one who fed stray cats, who cried at sad movies, who held his hand and promised they would always be good people.
That girl was still there, somewhere. But every day, more of her was buried under layers of instruction and suggestion, replaced by something savage and joyful in its cruelty.
He caught up to her at a small park. She was sitting on a swing, her feet dragging through the dust, her phone in her hand. She looked up as he approached.
“Feifei says I'm doing great,” she said, showing him the screen. A chat window glowed with Wang Feifei's words: *Your true nature is beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.*
Xirui wanted to grab the phone, to throw it into the pond. But his arms stayed at his sides.
“Keke, please,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you. The real you. This isn't you.”
She stopped swinging. Her eyes met his, and for a fraction of a second, he saw a crack in the mask—a flicker of pain, of recognition. Then it sealed again.
“The real me is the one Feifei helped me find,” she said calmly. “You're just afraid because you can't control me anymore.”
She stood up and walked to a nearby flower bed. She looked at the blooming tulips, then deliberately crushed a few under her shoe, grinding the petals into the soil. An old woman tending the garden gasped and shouted at her.
Keke just laughed and walked away.
Xirui stood among the ruined flowers, the earth dark and wet under his sneakers. He felt the hypnosis instructions pulse in his mind like a second heartbeat, keeping him docile, keeping him silent.
He was becoming a ghost in his own life. And the girl he loved was turning into something he could no longer recognize—something that delighted in the destruction of everything soft and gentle.
Evening fell. The park lights flickered on. Keke had stopped at a convenience store again—the same one—and this time she walked out with a bag of chips and a bottle of soda she hadn't paid for. She offered him some. He shook his head.
“Suit yourself,” she said, crunching a chip. “Feifei says tomorrow we'll do something really fun. She didn't say what. I'm excited.”
Xirui's stomach turned. He thought of the campus, of the stores, of everything that could be broken. And he knew, with a sick certainty, that the worst was still to come.
But he could do nothing. He could only follow her, obedient and silent, as the darkness grew and the sprouts of viciousness took deeper root in her heart.