**Hypnotized at the Comedy Club**

I didn’t know what to expect when Joelle dragged me to that dingy little comedy club downtown. She’d been acting weird all week—giggling at nothing, twirling her hair, and wearing these tight, sparkly tops she never used to. At first, I thought she was just dressing up for me, but then she started talking about some new “self-improvement” hypnotist she’d seen last weekend.

Turns out, the guy was the headliner tonight.

Joelle squeezed my thigh under the table as the lights dimmed, her long nails pressing just shy of painful. “You’re gonna love this,” she whispered, her breath hot in my ear. “He’s *amazing*.”

The hypnotist—some greasy, smirking dude in a cheap suit—took the stage and started his usual shtick, convincing some poor guy in the front row that he was a chicken. But then his eyes locked onto Joelle, and his grin widened. “Ah, my star pupil! Joelle, sweetheart, why don’t you come up here?”

She practically bounced out of her seat, her tits straining against her low-cut top as she climbed onto the stage. The hypnotist placed a hand on her shoulder and murmured something, too low for the mic to catch. Joelle blinked, her lips parting slightly—and then her whole body relaxed, her hips swaying, her tits pushed out.

“Now, Joelle,” the guy said, voice smooth, “tell the audience what’s changed since our last session.”

Joelle giggled, twirling a lock of bleached-blonde hair around her finger. “Ohmygod, *everything*,” she drawled, her voice higher, dumber. “I don’t *wanna* think anymore. Just wanna be pretty. Wanna be *fucked*. Wanna be *dumb*.” My dick twitched in my jeans.

The hypnotist chuckled. “And who do you want to fuck you, Joelle?”

She turned those glassy, heavy-lidded eyes right at me. “*Him*.”

The crowd whooped, but I barely heard them. Joelle stumbled off the stage—her movements slow, her pouty lips parted—and dropped into my lap. Her ass ground against my cock, already hard. “You *like* me like this, don’tcha?” she purred, her hand sliding down my chest.

“Fuck, Joelle—”

“Shhh.” A manicured finger pressed against my lips. “Don’t think. Just *take* me.”

She grabbed my hand and shoved it under her skirt. No panties. Just slick, dripping heat. Her cunt was *soaked*, her puffy lips swollen under my fingers. “Mmm, *yes*,” she moaned, rocking against my touch. “Fuck me *stupid*, baby. Make me *dumber*.”

I didn’t need another invitation. I dragged her into the club’s filthy bathroom, shoved her against the sink, and yanked her skirt up. Joelle whined, spreading her legs, her pussy glistening under the flickering fluorescent lights. I spit on my cock and rubbed the head against her clit, teasing her.

“Please,” she begged, her voice airy, desperate. “Need it. Need your *dick*.”

I slammed into her, balls-deep, and Joelle *screamed*. Her cunt clenched around me, tight and wet, her nails digging into my arms. She wasn’t just turned on—she was *mindless*, her hips jerking wildly, her tits bouncing with every thrust. “Fuck, *fuck*,” she babbled, drool dripping down her chin. “So *good*, so *dumb*—”

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, fucking her harder. Her moans turned into high-pitched squeals, her pussy squeezing me like a vice. “That’s it,” I growled. “Take it, dummy. Just a dumb little fucktoy.”

Joelle *shuddered*, her whole body locking up as she came. Her cunt pulsed around me, juice dripping down my thighs. I didn’t let up—pounded her through it, my balls slapping against her ass, until *I* blew, filling her up.

She collapsed against the sink, giggling, her mascara smeared. “Mmm… *so* dumb now,” she slurred, twirling her hair again. “Wanna be *dumber*.”

I zipped up, grinning. “Next time, baby. Next time.”