{ "submission_id": "3612548", "keywords": [ { "keyword_id": "19451", "keyword_name": "addiction", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "214" }, { "keyword_id": "85", "keyword_name": "anal", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "131620" }, { "keyword_id": "24193", "keyword_name": "bad end", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1356" }, { "keyword_id": "36690", "keyword_name": "edging", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1649" }, { "keyword_id": "1631", "keyword_name": "hypnosis", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "16555" }, { "keyword_id": "165", "keyword_name": "male", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1212643" }, { "keyword_id": "690", "keyword_name": "masturbation", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "48205" }, { "keyword_id": "77085", "keyword_name": "self hypnosis", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "15" }, { "keyword_id": "451", "keyword_name": "skunk", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "34652" }, { "keyword_id": "135", "keyword_name": "toys", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "4786" } ], "hidden": "f", "scraps": "f", "favorite": "f", "favorites_count": "3", "create_datetime": "2025-05-06 09:32:36.984847+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "06 May 2025 11:32 CEST", "last_file_update_datetime": "2025-05-06 09:30:19.139675+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "06 May 2025 11:30 CEST", "username": "KarlsBlank", "user_id": "1441412", "user_icon_file_name": null, "user_icon_url_large": null, "user_icon_url_medium": null, "user_icon_url_small": null, "file_name": "5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5553/5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5553/5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5553/5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "files": [ { "file_id": "5553923", "file_name": "5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/5553/5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/5553/5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/5553/5553923_KarlsBlank_the_mirror_s_call.txt", "mimetype": "text/plain", "submission_id": "3612548", "user_id": "1441412", "submission_file_order": "0", "full_size_x": null, "full_size_y": null, "screen_size_x": null, "screen_size_y": null, "preview_size_x": null, "preview_size_y": null, "initial_file_md5": "8105527c6c8879f9b42ad07836f73876", "full_file_md5": "8105527c6c8879f9b42ad07836f73876", "large_file_md5": "", "small_file_md5": "", "thumbnail_md5": "", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2025-05-06 09:30:19.139675+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "06 May 2025 11:30 CEST" } ], "pools": [], "description": "A story I wrote on commission recently. It's sort of a self-hypnosis thing. \n\nIf you like it, and would like to discuss having a story written on your behalf, feel free to reach out to me via PM. ", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A story I wrote on commission recently. It's sort of a self-hypnosis thing.

If you like it, and would like to discuss having a story written on your behalf, feel free to reach out to me via PM. ", "writing": "SUNDAY NIGHT\n\n\nTony stood in his bedroom. He was beside his bed, having just completed his nightly ritual and about to get ready to sleep. He had already laid out his clothes for the next day: a crisp white shirt, navy blue tie, and his favorite pale blue scarf and. Though it helped that his immaculate sense of fashion relied heavily on simple arrangements.\n\n\nAs he placed the folded scarf on the dresser, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His purple nose twitched slightly as he tilted his head, admiring the way the light caught his meticulously groomed fur. The flawless coat gleamed as the soft light bathed over Tony’s body, giving the skunk an alluring glow. It was a testament to the care he put into his appearance, a habit he held in high self-regard.\n\n\nWithin his reflection, Tony's gaze lingered on his own eyes. He had always been careful with his abilities, using them only when necessary and always on others who wanted to feel the pleasure of losing control of themselves. His eyes, along with his paws and the scent of his musk, held a hypnotic power he had honed over time. But the idea of turning that power inward, of exploring the depths of his own mind, was something he had never considered. He wasn’t even sure why now, of all times, the thought crossed his mind.\n\n\nWith a few minutes to spare before bed, he decided to experiment. Taking a step closer to the mirror, Tony focused, bringing his brows at first to a furrow. He then softened his gaze, letting the hypnotic energy flow naturally. This manifested a swirl of green and soft purple which radiated from his pupils, filling the whites of his eyes until only the hypnotic swirl remained. At the same time, he concentrated on releasing only a subtle hint of his scent. The air filled with the faint aroma of ripe berries, almost like a fruity cereal. The scent was understated, yet Tony knew its strength. It could lull others into a state of suggestibility, making them more receptive to his hypnotic stare. Now, he wondered what effect it would have on himself..\n\n\nInhaling deeply, Tony felt a shiver as a wave of relaxation washed over him. As he stared into his own eyes, the world around him began to blur at the edges. His reflection seemed to waver, and he sank deeper into a trance. Time lost all meaning as his mind emptied, leaving only the captivating gaze in the mirror.\n\n\nWhen Tony finally blinked, breaking the spell, he felt disoriented. He glanced at the clock and was startled to see that three hours had gone by, the time now well past midnight. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall what had happened during those lost hours. His memory was a blank slate, as if they had simply vanished.\n\n\nDespite the confusion, there was something else. A strange, lingering urge tugged at him. Every time he thought about the mirror, he felt compelled to look into it again, to lose himself in his own gaze once more. It was an odd sensation, one that both intrigued and unsettled him. Like the temptation to chew one’s nails or, he imagined, to smoke one more cigarette before quitting.\n\n\nShaking his head, Tony tried to dismiss the feeling. It was late, and he needed to get to bed. He had a busy day at work tomorrow. As he lay down, the image of his own eyes lingered in his mind. He couldn’t quite shake the sense that something had shifted, though he didn’t know what.\n\n\nWith a sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, unaware that this was only the beginning of a journey that would consume him.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nMONDAY\n\n\nTony woke to the shrill blare of his alarm, his body sluggish and mind foggy. The memory of Sunday night hovered like a shadow, elusive due to the time lost, yet he fixated upon it. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, the soft thud of his paws against the floor the only sound in the quiet apartment. As he reached for his toothbrush, his eyes drifted to the mirror. The urge hit him instantly, a quiet whisper in his mind: Look. Fall into it again.\n\n\nHis reflection stared back, purple nose twitching faintly, fur still pristine from the care he’d taken the night before. But it was his eyes that held him, with green and lavender lurking at the edges, promising that hypnotic swirl. Tony’s paw hesitated, hovering near the glass, but he clenched it into a fist and turned away. “Not now,” he told himself. “I’ve got work.”\n\n\nThe itch lingered, though, prickling at the back of his mind as he got dressed.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n####\n\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\nAt the office, focus eluded him. His thoughts kept circling back to the mirror, to the sensation of time slipping away in a haze of berries and blurred edges. During a morning meeting, he caught himself staring at the window, its faint reflection pulling at him like a tide. The voices around him faded, and he nearly sank into that familiar trance before a coworker’s cough jolted him back.\n \nHe shifted in his seat, fur bristling with unease.\n\n\nLater, at his desk, his computer screen dimmed, and there it was again: his face, faintly mirrored, eyes glinting with unspoken invitation. The scent of ripe berries teased his senses, a phantom but potent presence. His paw moved toward the monitor as though to touch his reflection before he yanked it back, muttering to himself, “Get it together, Tony.”\n\n\nBy the end of the day, he was drained, exhausted not by his work but by the constant struggle against the desire that intensified with each passing hour.\n\n\nWhen he stepped into his apartment that evening, resistance crumbled. He dropped his bag, the thud barely registering, and strode to the bedroom mirror. Standing before it, he let out a shaky breath and met his own gaze. The hypnotic energy surged effortlessly, with green and lavender spiraling from his pupils, and the air thickened with that sweet, fruity scent. The world softened, then dissolved, as he sank into the trance. \n\n\nTime melted away, his mind a blank canvas.\n\n\nWhen he blinked back to reality, the clock revealed two hours had vanished. Disorientation hit first, followed by a rush of something else: arousal, hot and urgent. His cock throbbed, unsheathed and engorged as the trance’s aftermath ignited his body. Tony glanced down, breath hitching at the sight of his erection and the syrupy mess dripping from his purple tip. His paws trembled, itching to relieve the pressure, but a flicker of shame warred with the excitement coursing through him.\n\n\nHe should’ve been worried about the lost time and the escalating need, but the pleasure drowned out reason. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, a primal pull he couldn’t ignore. With a quiet groan, he stroked himself, already imagining the release he’d chase before bed.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n####\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLater, lying in the dark, sated yet restless, Tony felt a gnawing unease. The mirror’s call still echoed in his mind, stronger now, yet seeming to promise even more.\n\n\n\n\nTUESDAY\n\n\nTony woke with a dull ache behind his eyes, the remnants of a restless night clinging to him like a second skin. The temptation was there before he even opened his eyes, a low hum in the back of his mind, insistent and growing. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling and willed himself to ignore it. But the memory of Monday’s trance, the rush of arousal that followed, lingered too close. Too seductive.\n\n\nHe swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, careful to keep his gaze away from the bedroom mirror. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth with his back to the sink, just as he had the day before, though the effort felt heavier now. The mirror’s presence loomed behind him, a silent siren call. He could almost feel his reflection watching, waiting for him to turn. With a tight breath, he splashed cold water on his face, careful not to glance upward, and left the room to get dressed for the day.\n\n\nAt work, the struggle deepened. The office, once a refuge of routine, now felt like a minefield of reflective surfaces. The glass door to the conference room, the polished metal of the elevator buttons, even the blank screen of his phone—each one pulled at him, daring him to look. During a mid-morning break, he caught himself staring at the window, his faint reflection almost seducing him. His eyes flickered as color began to blend, and the air around him grew thick with the scent of ripe berries. He was a few moments from succumbing to temptation but managed to pull himself from the edge. “No…just, no.”\n\n\nBut focus was a fleeting thing. In meetings, his mind drifted. He doodled spirals on his notepad, unaware until a coworker nudged him, asking if he was okay. \n\n\nHe forced a smile, nodding, but the question lingered in his own mind. \n\n\nWas he okay? \n\n\nThe urge gnawed at him, sharper now, like a hunger he couldn’t sate.\n\n\nBy lunchtime, the pressure was unbearable. He skipped the restroom, knowing the mirror there would undo him, and ate at his desk with his eyes glued to his computer. But when the screen dimmed, his reflection appeared, faint but undeniable. His pupils swirled, and the fruity scent curled around him. His heart raced, and he gripped the edge of his desk, whispering, “Not here. Not now.” He turned the brightness up, but the damage was done. His cock stirred beneath his desk, a reminder of the trance’s lingering effects.\n\n\n\n\n####\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe afternoon dragged on and Tony’s productivity plummeted; emails went unanswered, and he stared at the same spreadsheet for an hour without making progress. His thoughts kept circling back to the mirror at home, to the promise of release it offered. By the time he left work, his head throbbed, and his body ached with tension. The walk home felt longer, each step a battle against the temptation to stare into any of the hundreds of reflective surfaces that surrounded him.\n\n\nWhen he finally stepped into his apartment, the hallway mirror greeted him like an old friend. He stopped, his bag slipping from his shoulder with a soft thud. The desire washed over him, overwhelming in its intensity. His reflection stared back, eyes already flickering with hypnotic energy. He took a step closer, then another, until he stood before it, breath shallow.\n\n\n“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, but the words lacked conviction. His paw reached up, tracing the edge of the glass, and the air thickened with the scent of his intoxicating berry-musk. Tony’s mind softened, colors blending at the edges, and he let himself fall into the trance. His personality slipped away, brain emptying to leave only the swirling, consuming gaze in the mirror.\n\n\nWhen he blinked back to awareness, the clock showed five hours had vanished. His body hummed with arousal, his cock fully erect, straining like ripe fruit desperate to burst. He glanced down, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he saw the wet spot where precum had soaked his fur. His paws twitched, desperate to touch, to relieve the pressure, but a flicker of guilt warred with the need.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWEDNESDAY\n\n\nTony woke with a jolt, his heart pounding before his eyes even opened. \n\n\nThe urge was there, coiled tight in his chest, a relentless whisper that had haunted him through the night. He stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to breathe slowly. “Today, I won’t give in,” he thought, clinging to the resolve like a lifeline. His dreams had been tormented, fragmented, with visions of swirling colors, but he was determined to fight.\n\n\nHe climbed out of bed, careful to keep his gaze away from the bedroom mirror. In the bathroom, once again did everything in his power to avoid looking at his reflection as he brushed his teeth. The routine felt clumsy, almost absurd, but it was necessary. He dressed in a hurry and left the apartment before the mirror’s temptation could sink its hooks deeper.\n\n\nAt the office, Tony buried himself in work with a ferocity that surprised even him. He volunteered for every task he could find, from sorting files to joining meetings he didn’t need to attend. The more he moved, the less space there was for the desire to creep in. \n\n\nThe afternoon stretched into a grueling test of will. Every reflective surface seemed alive with temptation: the shine of a window, the gloss of a picture frame, the curve of his coffee mug. Each time, the urge swelled, a magnetic pull that made his paws tremble and his throat tighten. He fought it with distractions, humming a tune he half-remembered, counting the tiles on the ceiling, anything to drown out the call. \n\n\nOnce, he caught himself staring at the elevator doors, his reflection manifested faintly, and had to grip the wall to steady himself before walking away.\n\n\nBy the time he left work, Tony was exhausted. His head ached, and his body felt heavy, worn down by the mental tug-of-war. Yet beneath the fatigue, a spark of triumph flickered. He had resisted all day. No mirrors, no trances, just sheer stubborn will. As he walked home, he let a small, tired smile spread across his face. Maybe he could beat this after all. Maybe it was something he could outlast\n\n\nBut when he stepped into his apartment, the air thickened. The hallway mirror stood waiting, its surface catching the light in a way that felt almost alive. Tony stopped short, his breath catching in his chest. Addiction assaulted him, stronger than it had been all day, a tidal wave of need that drowned his hard-won resolve. His reflection stared back, eyes glinting with promise, and the faint scent of berries curled around him.\n\n\nHe stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart hammering. Every muscle screamed to step closer, to let the trance take him. But with a ragged breath, he tore his gaze away and marched to his bedroom. He shut the door hard, as if the wood could hold back the temptation, and sank onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he willed his mind to settle, though the pull still thrummed beneath his skin.\n\n\nSleep came eventually, heavy and uneven. Dreams of hypnotic swirls and sweet fruit chased him through the night, but when he woke the next morning, he was still himself. No lost hours, no surrender. He had made it through, clinging to control by a thread.\n\n\nFor now.\n\n\n\n\nTHURSDAY\n\n\nTony woke in the grip of familiar temptation, but today, something stronger fought back: resolve. \n\n\nHe’d made it through Wednesday without giving in, a grueling victory that left him drained yet defiant. Lying in bed, he clenched his fists, fur bristling along his arms. “It’s not enough to resist,” he thought. “I have to remove the temptation entirely.” The plan hit him like a lifeline: take down every mirror in his home and cover anything that could reflect his face. If he couldn’t see himself, he couldn’t be tempted.\n\n\nHe rolled out of bed and cowered from the reflection of his bedroom mirror, and moved through his morning routine with practiced caution. His paws shook as he pulled on his clothes, the itch to look gnawed at him, but he shoved it aside. Today, he’d fight with more than willpower. He’d make a change.\n\n\nAfter a tense day at work, where he dodged every reflective surface with a bowed head and muttered excuses, Tony returned home with a singular focus. The hallway mirror greeted him like a taunting guard as he dropped his bag and grabbed a screwdriver from the kitchen drawer. His paws felt steady now, fueled by purpose. He’d start with the bathroom mirror, the biggest threat.\n\n\nStanding before it, Tony gripped the screwdriver, his reflection glaring back with a mix of fear and defiance. His eyes flickered with hints of green and lavender, whispering promises of escape, but he locked onto the screws instead. Each twist was a struggle. Rusted metal resisted, and so did the part of him craving the trance. Sweat prickled his forehead, and the air thickened with the smell of berries, his own scent turning against him. He faltered, eyes squeezing shut, and growled under his breath, “I can do this.” With a final turn, the mirror gave way. He lifted it down, muscles straining, and turned it to face the wall, exhaling sharply as the danger passed.\n\n\nNext, the bedroom mirror. Smaller and lighter, it should have been easier, but as he reached for it, his paw slipped. The glass tilted, and for a heartbeat, he caught his reflection: eyes swirling, hypnotic pull surging. The scent of ripe fruit flooded the room, his mind softening at the edges. \nPanic spiked, and with a grunt, he yanked the mirror free, flipping it onto the bed. His chest heaved, breath ragged, but he’d escaped. The near-miss left his pulse racing, yet it fueled him too. \n\n\nA small win against the addiction’s grip.\n\n\nMomentum carried him through the apartment. He draped a sheet over the TV, the fabric billowing before it settled. Newspaper went up over the microwave door, taped sloppily but secure. He even unscrewed the shiny knobs from the kitchen cabinets, tossing them into a drawer. Every covered surface felt like a reclaimed piece of himself. But as he worked, a cold truth settled in: reflections were everywhere. The windows gleamed darkly as night fell, the sink whispered to him when he rinsed a glass, and even his phone screen taunted him when it dimmed. He couldn’t erase them all.\n\n\nTony paused in the living room, screwdriver dangling in his paw, and surveyed the chaos. The apartment looked half-abandoned—sheets and paper obscuring its usual order—but it was safer. He sank onto the couch, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His body ached from hauling furniture and ornaments, his mind raw from wrestling the urge. A flicker of pride sparked amid the fatigue. He’d acted, not just endured. Maybe this could hold the addiction at bay.\n\n\nThen his eyes drifted to the coffee table. A spoon lay there, its curve catching the lamplight, reflecting a tiny, warped version of his face. The itch roared back, sharp and insistent, and his paw twitched toward it. With a snarl, he grabbed the spoon and hurled it into a drawer, slamming it shut. “Not today,” he muttered, the words more plea than promise.\n\n\nBy evening, Tony collapsed into bed, the apartment unnaturally still. He stared at the ceiling, having forgotten his grooming practices to secure the apartment. The day’s effort was heavy on his limbs. The mirrors were gone, the reflections buried, but the temptation hummed beneath his skin. It was like a quiet, relentless pulse that seemed more alive than Tony, himself.\n\n\n\n\nFRIDAY\n\n\n\n\nTony stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his eyes fixed on the bare wall where the mirror once hung. Tiny scratches marred the paint, evidence of his Thursday night battle to rid his home of reflective surfaces. His paws clenched at his sides, the itch beneath his fur a constant, maddening hum that no amount of willpower could silence. All week, he’d fought this urge, a growing temptation that gnawed at him with every passing day. By Friday, exhaustion had eroded his defenses. Work had been a fog of distraction, his mind drifting to every fleeting corridor, all leading to one seductive conclusion. \n\n\n Now, alone in the dim light, resistance felt like a fragile thread stretched to its limit.\n\n\nBeneath the bed lay the bedroom mirror, hidden under a sheet. He’d promised himself he’d make it through the day, but the lie crumbled as he knelt and slid it free. The fabric fell away, and his reflection stared back, eyes already flickering with hypnotic hues of green and lavender. His breath hitched, a tangle of dread and longing twisting in his gut. Just once, he told himself, knowing it was a deception he could no longer resist.\n\n\nOne more time.\n\n\nHe propped the mirror against the wall and settled before it, cross-legged, paws on his knees. The air grew heavy as he focused, a familiar scent of ripe berries and soothing lavender wrapping around him. His gaze locked onto his reflection, and the room faded. Colors swirled in his eyes—green melting into purple, deepening, drawing him down. His mind emptied, time unraveling, until he floated in the warm, numbing depths of the trance.\n\n\nIn that haze, his body acted on instinct. His paws moved to his cock, already stiff and pulsing with need, and he began to stroke himself. The motion started slow, then quickened, a frantic rhythm fueled by desperation. But each time release loomed close, his body stalled; muscles tensing, breath catching, the edge slipping away. A groan escaped him, lost in the trance’s muffling void, as he pushed harder, faster, chasing a climax that refused to come. The hypnotic compulsion held him captive, denying him satisfaction no matter how furiously he tried.\n\n\nHours bled away in that relentless cycle. Pleasure twisted into torment, desire stretched thin without resolution. His mind drifted in the emptiness, untethered, while his body strained against the invisible barrier. The scent of berries turned sickly sweet, the colors in his eyes spinning endlessly, locking him in a prison of his own making.\n\n\nWhen the trance shattered, Tony blinked into awareness, the bedroom’s faint light seeping back. He was no longer seated but kneeling on the floor, legs cramped and trembling beneath him. His cock throbbed painfully in his paw, slick with precum, raw from ceaseless effort. Sweat plastered his fur, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The clock glowed accusingly. So many hours lost.\n\n\nThen the truth crashed over him. For those missing hours, he’d been masturbating furiously, driven by that hypnotic urge. Yet, his own power had barred him from climax.\n\n\nHorror clawed up his throat, cold and jagged, as he stared at his trembling, sticky paw. His cock ached, swollen and unsatisfied, a testament to the trance’s cruel grip. He’d surrendered completely, losing himself to the mirror, only to emerge unfulfilled and broken.\n\n\nTony stumbled to his feet, shoving the mirror back under the bed with shaking paws, though the act felt futile. The realization sank deeper: he hadn’t just succumbed. He had enjoyed it, even as it tortured him. Shame burned through his mind, but beneath it, a flicker of dark fascination lingered, leaving the ember that would soon ignite.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSATURDAY\n\n\nSaturday morning, finally the weekend, and Tony woke with a singular purpose burning in his mind. The hypnotic allure of his own abilities that had grown stronger with each passing day, and he would deny it no longer. All he needed was to get it out of the way. If he let himself have what he so clearly wanted, he could move on.\n\n\nFriday’s session had pushed him to the brink, leaving him raw and restless, and now, as sunlight filtered through his bedroom curtains, he made a deliberate choice: today, he would surrender completely. \n\n\nTony rose from bed, his skunk fur slightly disheveled, his body thrumming with anticipation. He removed the mirror from below his bed once more, having turned the common set piece into what felt like a dirty thing. But one mirror wouldn’t suffice for today’s descent. With methodical intent, he retrieved additional mirrors he’d once banished. One from the bathroom, another from the hallway. He arranged them around his bedroom. Against the dresser, beside the bed, at the foot, creating a kaleidoscope of reflections. \n\n\nEach angle would amplify his trance, trapping himself beneath his own gaze.\n\n\nOn the bed, he laid out his arsenal: a sleek black butt plug, a thick dildo with lifelike veins and a bulging knot near the base, a powerful vibrator, and a bottle of lube. It had been a while since Tony had put them all to use. \n\n\nStripping totally naked, he knelt before the central mirror and unsheathed his purple cock. His reflection, a skunk on the cusp of transformation. His eyes swirled and, taking a deep breath, he focused on his gaze, willing the colors to absorb him. Green bled into purple, deepening, pulling him into his own unsatisfied libido. The air thickened with his musk, no longer subtle but overpowering. His mind softened as the trance took hold. There was no time. There was no temptation. There was no Tony. There was only the mirrors, the pleasure, and the endless edge.\n\n\nHe began with his fingers, trailing them down his chest, over his white-furred belly, to his cock. It twitched under his touch, already half-hard with anticipation. He stroked slowly, savoring the warmth building in his groin, while his other paw drifted lower around his plump hips to sneakily tease just below the base of his tail.\n\n\nA finger circled his entrance, teasing the tight ring of muscle before pressing in. He gasped, the intrusion sending a spark through him. Adding a second finger, he stretched himself, curling them to graze his prostate. His cock leaked a bead of precum and his strokes quickened as pleasure made his tight hole clench.\n\n\nHe edged closer, the familiar rush building, but just as he teetered on the brink, the hypnotic barrier slammed down. His body locked, muscles trembling, denying him release. A frustrated whimper escaped his lips, but the denial only sharpened his need. He pressed his fingers deeper, stroking faster as he kneaded against the swollen gland in his ass, chasing the edge again and again, each time stopped by his own hypnotic command.\n\n\nAfter what might have been minutes, or even hours, he reached for the butt plug. Coating it with lube, cool gel made him shiver but would warm up once in contact with his body heat, he positioned it at his entrance and pushed. His moan filled the air as he was stretched but with some effort and soft ‘popping’ sensation, the toy slipped inside. The fullness pressed against his swollen prostate, amplifying every sensation. Resuming his strokes, he bathed under the gaze of the many pairs of eyes reflected back at him. \n\n\nHis paw moved rhythmically. His tail twitched. He covered both hands in lubricant and gripped his cock and balls, tugging and squeezing himself until pain and pleasure overlapped. As his hips bucked and heaved, the plug shifted with each clench, a constant reminder of how full and stretched his ass was.\n\n\nThe cycle consumed him: stroke, edge, deny. Stroke, edge, deny. His cock throbbed, leaking steadily, the tip glistening with precum. The room grew warm, sunlight climbing higher, but Tony was oblivious, lost in the hypnotic loop. His mind hazed over, thoughts slowing to a sluggish crawl, focused solely on the next edge.\n\n\nCraving more, he removed the plug, its absence leaving him aching for fullness. He grabbed the dildo, its girth a step beyond the plug’s modest stretch, especially that knot which reminded him of Chris.\n\n\nLubing it generously, he positioned it below and slowly lowered his body to impale himself. The toy filled him, inch by inch, the realistic veins rubbing against his inner walls. A low moan echoed in the room as he began to ride it, hips lifting and dropping, the dildo sliding in and out. His paw returned to his cock, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.\n\n\nWith a groan, Tony pressed down, imagining the sensation of Chris’ throbbing knot as it filled him. Then, he realized he didn’t have to. His berry scent overwhelmed his senses, leaving Tony in a lustful daze as he stared intensely into the eyes of his reflection. He hypnotized himself until he could actually feel Chris’ warmth. Until each buck and bounce of his thick, plump hips were no different than those he had performed on that charming blue-wolf’s cock only recently.\n\n\nThe mirrors reflected his depravity, a skunk lost in lust, fur matted with sweat, eyes wild with desperation. The sight fueled his arousal, pushing him closer. He thrust harder, faster, the pleasure overwhelming, but the hypnotic block held firm. He growled, the frustration blending with ecstasy, driving him to intensify his efforts. Hours slipped away, shadows shifting as afternoon bled into evening, but he didn’t pause. His body ached, muscles cramping and skin slick. But the need was a relentless master, driving Tony to chase the unattainable climax that he denied himself.\n\n\n\n\nAs evening ripened, Tony reached for the vibrator. Its buzz filled the silence as he pressed it against the underside of his leaking cock. His prick jumped, precum tossed in all directions as he assaulted the hypersensitive shaft. He slid the vibrator along his length, then back down, teasing his balls, then pressing it against his entrance alongside the dildo’s lingering stretch. The intensity made his toes curl as his breath came in short, ragged gasps.\n\n\nHis mind was fraying. Tony’s thoughts dissolved into little more than impulse. Close… so close… can’t… need… more… Words faded, replaced by sensations: the buzz against his skin, the slick slide of his paw, the thick scent of arousal mixing with berries and lavender. His balls were full..so full…he desperately needed to spill his load but that would mean losing the delightful, aching pleasure. He was adrift, each edge a wave crashing over him, leaving him desperate and sore.\n\n\n\n\nDarkness crept into the room, streetlights casting dim glows through the curtains, but Tony didn’t notice. The mirrors reflected a figure in shadow, a skunk reduced to instinct. His paw moved mechanically, stroking with practiced precision. The dildo lay discarded, its purpose exhausted; the vibrator buzzed weakly, batteries fading, but still, he pressed on. His cock was hypersensitive, each touch a mix of pain and pleasure, his ass sore yet its constant hunger had left Tony with one leg in the air, muscles cramped, and his lubed-up fist inserted into his own ass as he furiously masturbated.\n\n\nHis mind was nearly gone. What remained was a singular focus: edge, deny, repeat. He no longer questioned why, only obeyed the need. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, stared blankly into the mirrors, glazed and vacant. The hypnotic state had swallowed him, leaving a shell driven by pleasure and denial.\n\n\nPast midnight, his body faltered. His strokes slowed, muscles too weak to sustain the pace. He collapsed onto the bed, paw still loosely gripping his cock, twitching with aftershocks. Even in exhaustion, the need lingered, a cruel whisper in his emptiness. A final thought flickered before the realization that this is what his life had become slowly crept into the skunk’s mind.\n\n\nTony would no longer be the meticulous, hardworking skunk. His mind had unraveled, leaving only a vessel for endless gooning. The mirrors stood as silent sentinels, reflecting a figure lost to pleasure. Eyes endlessly hypnotizing, paws moving on autopilot. He had become a slave to his own power, addicted to the desperate cycle of edging and unable to escape the denial he’d imposed. His life was ruined, consumed by the pleasure and the need, the hypnotic state now his normal existence. \n\n\nAnd deep within the void of his mind, he welcomed it.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "SUNDAY NIGHT


Tony stood in his bedroom. He was beside his bed, having just completed his nightly ritual and about to get ready to sleep. He had already laid out his clothes for the next day: a crisp white shirt, navy blue tie, and his favorite pale blue scarf and. Though it helped that his immaculate sense of fashion relied heavily on simple arrangements.


As he placed the folded scarf on the dresser, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His purple nose twitched slightly as he tilted his head, admiring the way the light caught his meticulously groomed fur. The flawless coat gleamed as the soft light bathed over Tony’s body, giving the skunk an alluring glow. It was a testament to the care he put into his appearance, a habit he held in high self-regard.


Within his reflection, Tony's gaze lingered on his own eyes. He had always been careful with his abilities, using them only when necessary and always on others who wanted to feel the pleasure of losing control of themselves. His eyes, along with his paws and the scent of his musk, held a hypnotic power he had honed over time. But the idea of turning that power inward, of exploring the depths of his own mind, was something he had never considered. He wasn’t even sure why now, of all times, the thought crossed his mind.


With a few minutes to spare before bed, he decided to experiment. Taking a step closer to the mirror, Tony focused, bringing his brows at first to a furrow. He then softened his gaze, letting the hypnotic energy flow naturally. This manifested a swirl of green and soft purple which radiated from his pupils, filling the whites of his eyes until only the hypnotic swirl remained. At the same time, he concentrated on releasing only a subtle hint of his scent. The air filled with the faint aroma of ripe berries, almost like a fruity cereal. The scent was understated, yet Tony knew its strength. It could lull others into a state of suggestibility, making them more receptive to his hypnotic stare. Now, he wondered what effect it would have on himself..


Inhaling deeply, Tony felt a shiver as a wave of relaxation washed over him. As he stared into his own eyes, the world around him began to blur at the edges. His reflection seemed to waver, and he sank deeper into a trance. Time lost all meaning as his mind emptied, leaving only the captivating gaze in the mirror.


When Tony finally blinked, breaking the spell, he felt disoriented. He glanced at the clock and was startled to see that three hours had gone by, the time now well past midnight. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall what had happened during those lost hours. His memory was a blank slate, as if they had simply vanished.


Despite the confusion, there was something else. A strange, lingering urge tugged at him. Every time he thought about the mirror, he felt compelled to look into it again, to lose himself in his own gaze once more. It was an odd sensation, one that both intrigued and unsettled him. Like the temptation to chew one’s nails or, he imagined, to smoke one more cigarette before quitting.


Shaking his head, Tony tried to dismiss the feeling. It was late, and he needed to get to bed. He had a busy day at work tomorrow. As he lay down, the image of his own eyes lingered in his mind. He couldn’t quite shake the sense that something had shifted, though he didn’t know what.


With a sigh, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, unaware that this was only the beginning of a journey that would consume him.








MONDAY


Tony woke to the shrill blare of his alarm, his body sluggish and mind foggy. The memory of Sunday night hovered like a shadow, elusive due to the time lost, yet he fixated upon it. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, the soft thud of his paws against the floor the only sound in the quiet apartment. As he reached for his toothbrush, his eyes drifted to the mirror. The urge hit him instantly, a quiet whisper in his mind: Look. Fall into it again.


His reflection stared back, purple nose twitching faintly, fur still pristine from the care he’d taken the night before. But it was his eyes that held him, with green and lavender lurking at the edges, promising that hypnotic swirl. Tony’s paw hesitated, hovering near the glass, but he clenched it into a fist and turned away. “Not now,” he told himself. “I’ve got work.”


The itch lingered, though, prickling at the back of his mind as he got dressed.






####






 


At the office, focus eluded him. His thoughts kept circling back to the mirror, to the sensation of time slipping away in a haze of berries and blurred edges. During a morning meeting, he caught himself staring at the window, its faint reflection pulling at him like a tide. The voices around him faded, and he nearly sank into that familiar trance before a coworker’s cough jolted him back.
 
He shifted in his seat, fur bristling with unease.


Later, at his desk, his computer screen dimmed, and there it was again: his face, faintly mirrored, eyes glinting with unspoken invitation. The scent of ripe berries teased his senses, a phantom but potent presence. His paw moved toward the monitor as though to touch his reflection before he yanked it back, muttering to himself, “Get it together, Tony.”


By the end of the day, he was drained, exhausted not by his work but by the constant struggle against the desire that intensified with each passing hour.


When he stepped into his apartment that evening, resistance crumbled. He dropped his bag, the thud barely registering, and strode to the bedroom mirror. Standing before it, he let out a shaky breath and met his own gaze. The hypnotic energy surged effortlessly, with green and lavender spiraling from his pupils, and the air thickened with that sweet, fruity scent. The world softened, then dissolved, as he sank into the trance.


Time melted away, his mind a blank canvas.


When he blinked back to reality, the clock revealed two hours had vanished. Disorientation hit first, followed by a rush of something else: arousal, hot and urgent. His cock throbbed, unsheathed and engorged as the trance’s aftermath ignited his body. Tony glanced down, breath hitching at the sight of his erection and the syrupy mess dripping from his purple tip. His paws trembled, itching to relieve the pressure, but a flicker of shame warred with the excitement coursing through him.


He should’ve been worried about the lost time and the escalating need, but the pleasure drowned out reason. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, a primal pull he couldn’t ignore. With a quiet groan, he stroked himself, already imagining the release he’d chase before bed.






####










Later, lying in the dark, sated yet restless, Tony felt a gnawing unease. The mirror’s call still echoed in his mind, stronger now, yet seeming to promise even more.




TUESDAY


Tony woke with a dull ache behind his eyes, the remnants of a restless night clinging to him like a second skin. The temptation was there before he even opened his eyes, a low hum in the back of his mind, insistent and growing. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling and willed himself to ignore it. But the memory of Monday’s trance, the rush of arousal that followed, lingered too close. Too seductive.


He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, careful to keep his gaze away from the bedroom mirror. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth with his back to the sink, just as he had the day before, though the effort felt heavier now. The mirror’s presence loomed behind him, a silent siren call. He could almost feel his reflection watching, waiting for him to turn. With a tight breath, he splashed cold water on his face, careful not to glance upward, and left the room to get dressed for the day.


At work, the struggle deepened. The office, once a refuge of routine, now felt like a minefield of reflective surfaces. The glass door to the conference room, the polished metal of the elevator buttons, even the blank screen of his phone—each one pulled at him, daring him to look. During a mid-morning break, he caught himself staring at the window, his faint reflection almost seducing him. His eyes flickered as color began to blend, and the air around him grew thick with the scent of ripe berries. He was a few moments from succumbing to temptation but managed to pull himself from the edge. “No…just, no.”


But focus was a fleeting thing. In meetings, his mind drifted. He doodled spirals on his notepad, unaware until a coworker nudged him, asking if he was okay.


He forced a smile, nodding, but the question lingered in his own mind.


Was he okay?


The urge gnawed at him, sharper now, like a hunger he couldn’t sate.


By lunchtime, the pressure was unbearable. He skipped the restroom, knowing the mirror there would undo him, and ate at his desk with his eyes glued to his computer. But when the screen dimmed, his reflection appeared, faint but undeniable. His pupils swirled, and the fruity scent curled around him. His heart raced, and he gripped the edge of his desk, whispering, “Not here. Not now.” He turned the brightness up, but the damage was done. His cock stirred beneath his desk, a reminder of the trance’s lingering effects.




####






The afternoon dragged on and Tony’s productivity plummeted; emails went unanswered, and he stared at the same spreadsheet for an hour without making progress. His thoughts kept circling back to the mirror at home, to the promise of release it offered. By the time he left work, his head throbbed, and his body ached with tension. The walk home felt longer, each step a battle against the temptation to stare into any of the hundreds of reflective surfaces that surrounded him.


When he finally stepped into his apartment, the hallway mirror greeted him like an old friend. He stopped, his bag slipping from his shoulder with a soft thud. The desire washed over him, overwhelming in its intensity. His reflection stared back, eyes already flickering with hypnotic energy. He took a step closer, then another, until he stood before it, breath shallow.


“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, but the words lacked conviction. His paw reached up, tracing the edge of the glass, and the air thickened with the scent of his intoxicating berry-musk. Tony’s mind softened, colors blending at the edges, and he let himself fall into the trance. His personality slipped away, brain emptying to leave only the swirling, consuming gaze in the mirror.


When he blinked back to awareness, the clock showed five hours had vanished. His body hummed with arousal, his cock fully erect, straining like ripe fruit desperate to burst. He glanced down, a quiet groan escaping his lips as he saw the wet spot where precum had soaked his fur. His paws twitched, desperate to touch, to relieve the pressure, but a flicker of guilt warred with the need.












WEDNESDAY


Tony woke with a jolt, his heart pounding before his eyes even opened.


The urge was there, coiled tight in his chest, a relentless whisper that had haunted him through the night. He stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to breathe slowly. “Today, I won’t give in,” he thought, clinging to the resolve like a lifeline. His dreams had been tormented, fragmented, with visions of swirling colors, but he was determined to fight.


He climbed out of bed, careful to keep his gaze away from the bedroom mirror. In the bathroom, once again did everything in his power to avoid looking at his reflection as he brushed his teeth. The routine felt clumsy, almost absurd, but it was necessary. He dressed in a hurry and left the apartment before the mirror’s temptation could sink its hooks deeper.


At the office, Tony buried himself in work with a ferocity that surprised even him. He volunteered for every task he could find, from sorting files to joining meetings he didn’t need to attend. The more he moved, the less space there was for the desire to creep in.


The afternoon stretched into a grueling test of will. Every reflective surface seemed alive with temptation: the shine of a window, the gloss of a picture frame, the curve of his coffee mug. Each time, the urge swelled, a magnetic pull that made his paws tremble and his throat tighten. He fought it with distractions, humming a tune he half-remembered, counting the tiles on the ceiling, anything to drown out the call.


Once, he caught himself staring at the elevator doors, his reflection manifested faintly, and had to grip the wall to steady himself before walking away.


By the time he left work, Tony was exhausted. His head ached, and his body felt heavy, worn down by the mental tug-of-war. Yet beneath the fatigue, a spark of triumph flickered. He had resisted all day. No mirrors, no trances, just sheer stubborn will. As he walked home, he let a small, tired smile spread across his face. Maybe he could beat this after all. Maybe it was something he could outlast


But when he stepped into his apartment, the air thickened. The hallway mirror stood waiting, its surface catching the light in a way that felt almost alive. Tony stopped short, his breath catching in his chest. Addiction assaulted him, stronger than it had been all day, a tidal wave of need that drowned his hard-won resolve. His reflection stared back, eyes glinting with promise, and the faint scent of berries curled around him.


He stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart hammering. Every muscle screamed to step closer, to let the trance take him. But with a ragged breath, he tore his gaze away and marched to his bedroom. He shut the door hard, as if the wood could hold back the temptation, and sank onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he willed his mind to settle, though the pull still thrummed beneath his skin.


Sleep came eventually, heavy and uneven. Dreams of hypnotic swirls and sweet fruit chased him through the night, but when he woke the next morning, he was still himself. No lost hours, no surrender. He had made it through, clinging to control by a thread.


For now.




THURSDAY


Tony woke in the grip of familiar temptation, but today, something stronger fought back: resolve.


He’d made it through Wednesday without giving in, a grueling victory that left him drained yet defiant. Lying in bed, he clenched his fists, fur bristling along his arms. “It’s not enough to resist,” he thought. “I have to remove the temptation entirely.” The plan hit him like a lifeline: take down every mirror in his home and cover anything that could reflect his face. If he couldn’t see himself, he couldn’t be tempted.


He rolled out of bed and cowered from the reflection of his bedroom mirror, and moved through his morning routine with practiced caution. His paws shook as he pulled on his clothes, the itch to look gnawed at him, but he shoved it aside. Today, he’d fight with more than willpower. He’d make a change.


After a tense day at work, where he dodged every reflective surface with a bowed head and muttered excuses, Tony returned home with a singular focus. The hallway mirror greeted him like a taunting guard as he dropped his bag and grabbed a screwdriver from the kitchen drawer. His paws felt steady now, fueled by purpose. He’d start with the bathroom mirror, the biggest threat.


Standing before it, Tony gripped the screwdriver, his reflection glaring back with a mix of fear and defiance. His eyes flickered with hints of green and lavender, whispering promises of escape, but he locked onto the screws instead. Each twist was a struggle. Rusted metal resisted, and so did the part of him craving the trance. Sweat prickled his forehead, and the air thickened with the smell of berries, his own scent turning against him. He faltered, eyes squeezing shut, and growled under his breath, “I can do this.” With a final turn, the mirror gave way. He lifted it down, muscles straining, and turned it to face the wall, exhaling sharply as the danger passed.


Next, the bedroom mirror. Smaller and lighter, it should have been easier, but as he reached for it, his paw slipped. The glass tilted, and for a heartbeat, he caught his reflection: eyes swirling, hypnotic pull surging. The scent of ripe fruit flooded the room, his mind softening at the edges.
Panic spiked, and with a grunt, he yanked the mirror free, flipping it onto the bed. His chest heaved, breath ragged, but he’d escaped. The near-miss left his pulse racing, yet it fueled him too.


A small win against the addiction’s grip.


Momentum carried him through the apartment. He draped a sheet over the TV, the fabric billowing before it settled. Newspaper went up over the microwave door, taped sloppily but secure. He even unscrewed the shiny knobs from the kitchen cabinets, tossing them into a drawer. Every covered surface felt like a reclaimed piece of himself. But as he worked, a cold truth settled in: reflections were everywhere. The windows gleamed darkly as night fell, the sink whispered to him when he rinsed a glass, and even his phone screen taunted him when it dimmed. He couldn’t erase them all.


Tony paused in the living room, screwdriver dangling in his paw, and surveyed the chaos. The apartment looked half-abandoned—sheets and paper obscuring its usual order—but it was safer. He sank onto the couch, exhaustion seeping into his bones. His body ached from hauling furniture and ornaments, his mind raw from wrestling the urge. A flicker of pride sparked amid the fatigue. He’d acted, not just endured. Maybe this could hold the addiction at bay.


Then his eyes drifted to the coffee table. A spoon lay there, its curve catching the lamplight, reflecting a tiny, warped version of his face. The itch roared back, sharp and insistent, and his paw twitched toward it. With a snarl, he grabbed the spoon and hurled it into a drawer, slamming it shut. “Not today,” he muttered, the words more plea than promise.


By evening, Tony collapsed into bed, the apartment unnaturally still. He stared at the ceiling, having forgotten his grooming practices to secure the apartment. The day’s effort was heavy on his limbs. The mirrors were gone, the reflections buried, but the temptation hummed beneath his skin. It was like a quiet, relentless pulse that seemed more alive than Tony, himself.




FRIDAY




Tony stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his eyes fixed on the bare wall where the mirror once hung. Tiny scratches marred the paint, evidence of his Thursday night battle to rid his home of reflective surfaces. His paws clenched at his sides, the itch beneath his fur a constant, maddening hum that no amount of willpower could silence. All week, he’d fought this urge, a growing temptation that gnawed at him with every passing day. By Friday, exhaustion had eroded his defenses. Work had been a fog of distraction, his mind drifting to every fleeting corridor, all leading to one seductive conclusion.


 Now, alone in the dim light, resistance felt like a fragile thread stretched to its limit.


Beneath the bed lay the bedroom mirror, hidden under a sheet. He’d promised himself he’d make it through the day, but the lie crumbled as he knelt and slid it free. The fabric fell away, and his reflection stared back, eyes already flickering with hypnotic hues of green and lavender. His breath hitched, a tangle of dread and longing twisting in his gut. Just once, he told himself, knowing it was a deception he could no longer resist.


One more time.


He propped the mirror against the wall and settled before it, cross-legged, paws on his knees. The air grew heavy as he focused, a familiar scent of ripe berries and soothing lavender wrapping around him. His gaze locked onto his reflection, and the room faded. Colors swirled in his eyes—green melting into purple, deepening, drawing him down. His mind emptied, time unraveling, until he floated in the warm, numbing depths of the trance.


In that haze, his body acted on instinct. His paws moved to his cock, already stiff and pulsing with need, and he began to stroke himself. The motion started slow, then quickened, a frantic rhythm fueled by desperation. But each time release loomed close, his body stalled; muscles tensing, breath catching, the edge slipping away. A groan escaped him, lost in the trance’s muffling void, as he pushed harder, faster, chasing a climax that refused to come. The hypnotic compulsion held him captive, denying him satisfaction no matter how furiously he tried.


Hours bled away in that relentless cycle. Pleasure twisted into torment, desire stretched thin without resolution. His mind drifted in the emptiness, untethered, while his body strained against the invisible barrier. The scent of berries turned sickly sweet, the colors in his eyes spinning endlessly, locking him in a prison of his own making.


When the trance shattered, Tony blinked into awareness, the bedroom’s faint light seeping back. He was no longer seated but kneeling on the floor, legs cramped and trembling beneath him. His cock throbbed painfully in his paw, slick with precum, raw from ceaseless effort. Sweat plastered his fur, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The clock glowed accusingly. So many hours lost.


Then the truth crashed over him. For those missing hours, he’d been masturbating furiously, driven by that hypnotic urge. Yet, his own power had barred him from climax.


Horror clawed up his throat, cold and jagged, as he stared at his trembling, sticky paw. His cock ached, swollen and unsatisfied, a testament to the trance’s cruel grip. He’d surrendered completely, losing himself to the mirror, only to emerge unfulfilled and broken.


Tony stumbled to his feet, shoving the mirror back under the bed with shaking paws, though the act felt futile. The realization sank deeper: he hadn’t just succumbed. He had enjoyed it, even as it tortured him. Shame burned through his mind, but beneath it, a flicker of dark fascination lingered, leaving the ember that would soon ignite.










SATURDAY


Saturday morning, finally the weekend, and Tony woke with a singular purpose burning in his mind. The hypnotic allure of his own abilities that had grown stronger with each passing day, and he would deny it no longer. All he needed was to get it out of the way. If he let himself have what he so clearly wanted, he could move on.


Friday’s session had pushed him to the brink, leaving him raw and restless, and now, as sunlight filtered through his bedroom curtains, he made a deliberate choice: today, he would surrender completely.


Tony rose from bed, his skunk fur slightly disheveled, his body thrumming with anticipation. He removed the mirror from below his bed once more, having turned the common set piece into what felt like a dirty thing. But one mirror wouldn’t suffice for today’s descent. With methodical intent, he retrieved additional mirrors he’d once banished. One from the bathroom, another from the hallway. He arranged them around his bedroom. Against the dresser, beside the bed, at the foot, creating a kaleidoscope of reflections.


Each angle would amplify his trance, trapping himself beneath his own gaze.


On the bed, he laid out his arsenal: a sleek black butt plug, a thick dildo with lifelike veins and a bulging knot near the base, a powerful vibrator, and a bottle of lube. It had been a while since Tony had put them all to use.


Stripping totally naked, he knelt before the central mirror and unsheathed his purple cock. His reflection, a skunk on the cusp of transformation. His eyes swirled and, taking a deep breath, he focused on his gaze, willing the colors to absorb him. Green bled into purple, deepening, pulling him into his own unsatisfied libido. The air thickened with his musk, no longer subtle but overpowering. His mind softened as the trance took hold. There was no time. There was no temptation. There was no Tony. There was only the mirrors, the pleasure, and the endless edge.


He began with his fingers, trailing them down his chest, over his white-furred belly, to his cock. It twitched under his touch, already half-hard with anticipation. He stroked slowly, savoring the warmth building in his groin, while his other paw drifted lower around his plump hips to sneakily tease just below the base of his tail.


A finger circled his entrance, teasing the tight ring of muscle before pressing in. He gasped, the intrusion sending a spark through him. Adding a second finger, he stretched himself, curling them to graze his prostate. His cock leaked a bead of precum and his strokes quickened as pleasure made his tight hole clench.


He edged closer, the familiar rush building, but just as he teetered on the brink, the hypnotic barrier slammed down. His body locked, muscles trembling, denying him release. A frustrated whimper escaped his lips, but the denial only sharpened his need. He pressed his fingers deeper, stroking faster as he kneaded against the swollen gland in his ass, chasing the edge again and again, each time stopped by his own hypnotic command.


After what might have been minutes, or even hours, he reached for the butt plug. Coating it with lube, cool gel made him shiver but would warm up once in contact with his body heat, he positioned it at his entrance and pushed. His moan filled the air as he was stretched but with some effort and soft ‘popping’ sensation, the toy slipped inside. The fullness pressed against his swollen prostate, amplifying every sensation. Resuming his strokes, he bathed under the gaze of the many pairs of eyes reflected back at him.


His paw moved rhythmically. His tail twitched. He covered both hands in lubricant and gripped his cock and balls, tugging and squeezing himself until pain and pleasure overlapped. As his hips bucked and heaved, the plug shifted with each clench, a constant reminder of how full and stretched his ass was.


The cycle consumed him: stroke, edge, deny. Stroke, edge, deny. His cock throbbed, leaking steadily, the tip glistening with precum. The room grew warm, sunlight climbing higher, but Tony was oblivious, lost in the hypnotic loop. His mind hazed over, thoughts slowing to a sluggish crawl, focused solely on the next edge.


Craving more, he removed the plug, its absence leaving him aching for fullness. He grabbed the dildo, its girth a step beyond the plug’s modest stretch, especially that knot which reminded him of Chris.


Lubing it generously, he positioned it below and slowly lowered his body to impale himself. The toy filled him, inch by inch, the realistic veins rubbing against his inner walls. A low moan echoed in the room as he began to ride it, hips lifting and dropping, the dildo sliding in and out. His paw returned to his cock, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.


With a groan, Tony pressed down, imagining the sensation of Chris’ throbbing knot as it filled him. Then, he realized he didn’t have to. His berry scent overwhelmed his senses, leaving Tony in a lustful daze as he stared intensely into the eyes of his reflection. He hypnotized himself until he could actually feel Chris’ warmth. Until each buck and bounce of his thick, plump hips were no different than those he had performed on that charming blue-wolf’s cock only recently.


The mirrors reflected his depravity, a skunk lost in lust, fur matted with sweat, eyes wild with desperation. The sight fueled his arousal, pushing him closer. He thrust harder, faster, the pleasure overwhelming, but the hypnotic block held firm. He growled, the frustration blending with ecstasy, driving him to intensify his efforts. Hours slipped away, shadows shifting as afternoon bled into evening, but he didn’t pause. His body ached, muscles cramping and skin slick. But the need was a relentless master, driving Tony to chase the unattainable climax that he denied himself.




As evening ripened, Tony reached for the vibrator. Its buzz filled the silence as he pressed it against the underside of his leaking cock. His prick jumped, precum tossed in all directions as he assaulted the hypersensitive shaft. He slid the vibrator along his length, then back down, teasing his balls, then pressing it against his entrance alongside the dildo’s lingering stretch. The intensity made his toes curl as his breath came in short, ragged gasps.


His mind was fraying. Tony’s thoughts dissolved into little more than impulse. Close… so close… can’t… need… more… Words faded, replaced by sensations: the buzz against his skin, the slick slide of his paw, the thick scent of arousal mixing with berries and lavender. His balls were full..so full…he desperately needed to spill his load but that would mean losing the delightful, aching pleasure. He was adrift, each edge a wave crashing over him, leaving him desperate and sore.




Darkness crept into the room, streetlights casting dim glows through the curtains, but Tony didn’t notice. The mirrors reflected a figure in shadow, a skunk reduced to instinct. His paw moved mechanically, stroking with practiced precision. The dildo lay discarded, its purpose exhausted; the vibrator buzzed weakly, batteries fading, but still, he pressed on. His cock was hypersensitive, each touch a mix of pain and pleasure, his ass sore yet its constant hunger had left Tony with one leg in the air, muscles cramped, and his lubed-up fist inserted into his own ass as he furiously masturbated.


His mind was nearly gone. What remained was a singular focus: edge, deny, repeat. He no longer questioned why, only obeyed the need. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, stared blankly into the mirrors, glazed and vacant. The hypnotic state had swallowed him, leaving a shell driven by pleasure and denial.


Past midnight, his body faltered. His strokes slowed, muscles too weak to sustain the pace. He collapsed onto the bed, paw still loosely gripping his cock, twitching with aftershocks. Even in exhaustion, the need lingered, a cruel whisper in his emptiness. A final thought flickered before the realization that this is what his life had become slowly crept into the skunk’s mind.


Tony would no longer be the meticulous, hardworking skunk. His mind had unraveled, leaving only a vessel for endless gooning. The mirrors stood as silent sentinels, reflecting a figure lost to pleasure. Eyes endlessly hypnotizing, paws moving on autopilot. He had become a slave to his own power, addicted to the desperate cycle of edging and unable to escape the denial he’d imposed. His life was ruined, consumed by the pleasure and the need, the hypnotic state now his normal existence.


And deep within the void of his mind, he welcomed it.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "The Mirror's Call (commission)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "86" }