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"And 3... 2... 1... Awake! How are you doing, Jet?"

Terrence opened his mouth to give an automatic response, but then took a quick mental stock of his position. "It didn't work," he said, sullenly. He held his hands in front of his face: they looked like regular human hands -- he hadn't expected that to change -- but more importantly they still felt like regular human hands. Not paws.

In the chair next to the couch where Terrence was laying, his partner Grant gave a short laugh and a small shrug. "You can't always expect it to be as fast as that."

"Why not?" Terrence said and pulled himself up into a sitting position. The euphoric feelings of the hypnotic trance fell away almost immediately when he realized it hadn't had the intended effect, but the sluggishness lasted longer. He kept brushing his long hair out of his eyes and blearily noticing a few moments later that it had fallen back into his field of vision again. "You can put me into trance almost immediately. I take lots of different posthypnotic suggestions well. You said so yourself. Why can't I get into a pup headspace that easily?"

Now that his boyfriend was up, Grant shifted position to be beside him. He was a little taller and a little lighter than Terrence, and he liked dressing up even around the house whereas Terrence preferred being comfortable in a loose tee-shirt and lounge pants. "It's apples and oranges, Jet."

Terrence frowned. "I'm not Jet. Not yet." Jet was the name the two of them had decided on for Terrence's pup side. If they could ever get him into the right frame of mind, that is. Both of them had always been interested in pup play, but for whatever reason, the few times he and Grant had experimented in it, he couldn't quite get himself into the role. It kept feeling wrong, and they always ended the scene after just a few minutes.

"It's because you always overthink things," Grant said.

"I know. I know." Terrence grumbled as he licked his hand and tried to wet down some of the errant strands of hair. "That's why I thought hypnosis would help. That, at least, I can't overthink during."

Grant nodded and placed a hand on Terrence's shoulder. "It's not a total loss though."

Terrence looked up into a wide grin. "You put some triggers in, didn't you?"

"Of course."

Terrence sighed, but with a happier note. "Okay, so the trance wasn't a total loss." He resisted the urge to squirm. His partner had a deliciously devious mind sometimes and he knew he'd enjoy whatever ended up happening. "What kind of trigger did you put in?"

Grant slid himself away on the couch so he could turn to face Terrence properly. "We need something to put it to the test. What was that video game you were telling me about the other day?"

Terrence blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Video game? You mean Slay the--"

Snap!

Terrence did a double-take. He had known just what he wanted to say a moment ago, but as soon as Grant snapped his fingers, the word just slipped away.

"What was the name of it again?" Grant's eyes were gleaming.

"Slay the... Hold on. Slay the..." He struggled. The word was right there on the tip of his tongue. Then a lightbulb went on in his head. "You made me forget."

Grant's head bobbed excitedly. "And that's not all I can do. What your least favorite band?"

"Queen," Terrence said. If he had to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody one more time...

"Okay, now what's your most favorite band?"

"The--"

Snap!

"Damn, I can't remember again." Terrence hunched over in his seat, hands on his knees, focusing as intently as he could. He could almost remember their name... and their music. He thought he was close to it at least.

"Don't worry. I remembered that one for you. It's Queen."

"Oh, right! I forgot. Hey, what are you laughing about?"

Grant had a hard time getting himself under control. "I'll tell you later."

They kept playing with that one trigger for a while. Grant took great pleasure in having Terrence read through the DVDs on the shelf, removing his memory of what the words spelled, and then hearing him try to sound them out. Terrence's attempts to pronounce "Ocean's Eleven" left them both in stitches. They were on the floor, leaning against the back of their couch with tears streaming out of their eyes.

"Okay, okay, that's all fun," Terrence was saying, trying to take gulps of air when he could. "But what was the idea for all this?"

"Oh that." Grant burst into another bit of laughter, as if those two words were themselves riotously funny. When he got himself under control he continued. "Well, what's the thing you say when you can't think of what to say?"

"You mean..." and Terrence tilted his head back to sing, "Supercali--"

"No, no. I mean what is it you, Terrence, say when you can't think of what to say?"

The other man shrugged, wiping some tears away from the corner of his eyes.

"Well, try it. Remember my first question? What was the game's name?"

"I'm not going to be able to remember," Terrence said with a shrug.

"But try."

"Okay. It's Slay the... Slay the... Nope, still can't."

Grant got up onto his knees so that he sat a little higher than Terrence. "Because you're trying too hard," he said. "Close your eyes. Focus on the fact that you want to say something. Then keep speaking even if you don't know what's going to come out next."

Terrence warily eyed his boyfriend. "Okay," he said. He sat up a little straighter and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on the title, whose final word he swore he could feel swimming around somewhere in the back of his mind. "It's Slay the ruff!"

Terrence blinked and jerked back. "Wait, what did I just say?"

"You barked!"

Terrence looked down at himself. He half-expected to see fur sprouting over his body or some other posthypnotic suggestion taking hold. But nothing. "Why did I bark?"

"It's the other half of the suggestion. You not only forget things, but when you can't remember a specific word or concept, your natural inclination is to bark." Grant swung a leg around and straddled Terrence's hips. Suddenly Terrence was very aware of the idling arousal that had been building up as it typically did whenever they played with hypnosis. "Feels different, doesn't it?"

Terrence swallowed and nodded. He could recognize the tone of his boyfriend's voice and the way he carried himself that he was sliding into a more dominant mode. Terrence could feel, all of a sudden, the tightness of his clothes around his hips. "Uh-huh."

"An unusual sensation. You don't know quite what to make of it. You don't know how to describe it."

Terrence gave a shaky nod.

"So what do you say?"

Terrence opened his mouth, unsure, but knowing he had to give some response. Another bark came out of his mouth.

"What was that, boy? Speak up."

Terrence tried to say something and found himself barking again. His breath was coming faster.

"Hey." Grant's hand was on Terrence's chin, holding his head up, forcing their eyes to meet. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Terrence said, surprised to hear regular words coming out of his mouth once more. "It's just... overwhelming. Man. I had to fight down the urge to bark once again."

Grant laughed as he stood and extended a hand, first pulling Terrence to his feet and then pulling him onto the couch. "Still not quite Jet, are you?"

Terrence shook his head, brushing back a lock of hair. "No, but this is way closer than we've ever managed before. I don't know why."

"It's like I said: now you aren't overthinking. I've removed not just the word but the very concepts from your mind. So your thoughts are necessarily more simple." He paused and looked over Terrence. "Ready for more?"

Terrence felt a moment's apprehension. "S-sure."

"Okay. Then for the next few questions. It's very important that you try to answer them honestly, even if they seem silly. First, what's my name?"

Terrence lifted an eyebrow, but remembered what Grant had just said about answering honestly. "It's G--"

Snap!

"Uh... I... I'm sorry. I can't remember. Damn, this is embarrassing."

"And what's our relationship?"

"You're my boyf--"

Snap!

"Um... This is even more embarrassing." Terrence started to gesticulate with his arms. "I mean, I know that you're important to me. But I can't remember exactly how." He felt his blush spread across his cheeks at the same time that he felt his shaft starting to throb between his legs. This forgetfulness trigger was really doing a number on his libido, embarrassment or no.

"I'm your trainer," the other man said.

And that clicked right into place. After all, Terrence could remember the roleplays they had done before, with Terrence submitting and his trainer controlling. "Right. Thanks for reminding me. But what is your name, anyway?"

His trainer waved a hand. "You don't need to worry about it. All you need to call me is sir."

Terrence felt another throb in his shaft at that. "Yes, sir." He had a trainer? I mean he knew he did, because his trainer said so. But there was also something new and different about that. What was he being trained for? He asked as much.

His trainer smiled and placed a hand on Terrence's chest, teasing him through the fabric. "Why, I'm a pup trainer. You've been wanting to be a better pup, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir!" Terrence said enthusiastically. He distinctly remembered he and his trainer trying to bring out Jet within him.

"Then before anything else, maybe you should explain what you are doing wearing this."

It took Terrence a second to process that his trainer had curled a finger through the fabric of his shirt. That was what he was indicating. "It's--"

Snap!

"I... I don't know, sir."

The trainer gave a wry shake of his head. "Silly pup. You shouldn't be wearing it if you don't know why you are."

Terrence nodded. His trainer did know best after all. He grabbed the fabric and fumblingly pulled it over his head. How had he ever managed to get it on in the first place with all those tiny holes?

"Next, what are you doing wearing this?" His trainer asked, this time indicating the lounge pants. Another snap, and Terrence couldn't remember why he was, so he took them off too, leaving him on the couch, dressed only in his boxers. They weren't that tight, but his trainer surely had to see the outline of his hard shaft underneath them.

"And what about these? Why are these on?"

Terrence shivered as he felt his trainer tug at his boxers. "Well, sir, I know we're intimate a lot, but I don't think you'd appreciate me being naked all the time..."

His trainer nodded, looking at the piece of red fabric. "I can tell that's not all. What else, pup?"

Terrence bit his lip, embarrassed. "I'm hard, sir. Very."

"Really?" His trainer seemed bemused. "Why are you so aroused?"

Terrence worried his lip more between his teeth. "Because you're so close and touching me. And you're in charge. And I know some triggers are getting used although I can't remember what. And--"

His trainer silenced him by placing a hand directly over his shaft, squeezing it through the fabric. Terrence gasped and squirmed in place. "Show it to me."

Terrence swallowed and, as his trainer's hand pulled away, he pushed the band of the boxers down and around his swollen shaft. It sat there, throbbing lightly against his belly.

"Horny?"

"Yes, sir."

"Want to cum?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then beg for it."

"Please, sir. I'm so horny, and I know you don't have to, but I just--"

Snap!

His trainer looked straight into his eyes. "I said beg, pup."

Terrence's mind was racing. He wanted to -- he really did want to orgasm badly -- but he didn't know how to beg. He had forgotten.

"Beg!" his trainer commanded sharply, giving his balls a squeeze through the boxers.

"Ruff ruff!" Terrence barked instinctively, adding a plaintive whine.

"See, now that's much better. All you need now is the proper posture." He released Terrence's balls, much to his relief, then gestured to the ground in front of the couch.

Terrence slipped down to kneel, but his trainer kept adjusting his posture. Knees spread to reveal his shaft, back arched to thrust out his chest, hands -- or should they be paws -- held just below his chin. He really did look just like a begging puppy now. Terrence barked and shook his hips, wagging a non-existent tail.

"Much better," his trainer said. "Yes, I think you should get to cum. Go ahead and jerk off, pup."

Terrence sighed in contentment and reached down, fingers wrapping around his length.

"Pup, why are you using your fingers?"

Terrence looked at his trainer like he'd just grown a new head. But as he started to answer, a snap rang out. Why was he using his fingers to stroke anyway? That was complicated. It was so hard to manage all of those digits at the same time: like playing the piano. Much better suited for dexterous people like his trainer.

So Terrence balled each hand into a loose fist, set them on either side of his shaft and started pumping them up and down along his length.

His trainer sat on the edge of the couch, looking down at him with a pleased expression on his face. It didn't take long before Terrence was barking again and pumping out several loads of his cum onto the wooden floor.

His trainer gave a rub over his head and a scritch down his shoulders. "I'll have you clean up that mess you just made in a moment. But first, remembering what I said about the importance of answering honestly, what's your name, pup?"

"It's Terr--"

Snap!

Terrence blinked. "I..."

"It's Jet. Pup Jet."

And Jet smiled and accepted the name, wagging his hips happily.