I stared at it, almost going cross-eyed; I was so close to it.

It stood up like the Eddystone light-house and I swear it was throbbing; blue veins stood out along its eight inch length. I knew that the three inches of its girth would completely fill my mouth and it was imperiously demanding that I engulf it without delay. My lips had parted of their own accord to obey that imperative. I couldn't help myself. My body was getting aroused without any conscious effort from me, my nipples as round and hard as marbles and my pussy lubricating itself to welcome the edifice.

My mind was at war with itself. Was this what schizophrenia was like? There were voices inside my head, some insisting that I begin to kiss it immediately while others were aghast at the very idea. I couldn’t remember ever having a conflict like this. Most of me seemed to really want to do it.

My hands reached out of their own accord and my fingers wrapped around it gently, tentatively grasping that shaft of flesh with the tips of my coral-pink nails and pulling down towards its base, towards the mass of hair and the scrotal sac which held his testicles. It was almost as if they had done it before and the skin followed the pressure of my fingers and retreated from the end of the member, exposing a dome of purple flesh, almost mushroom-shaped. The skin stopped retreating when the extremity was fully exposed leaving a small collar of flesh at the underside of the head.

I gripped the pulsing monstrosity harder and bent my head towards it, the tip of my tongue protruding from my open mouth, ready to start licking and caressing.

“Go on. Do it. Suck my dick.” The man attached to the base of the penis yelled at me. “Suck it. Kiss it. I swear I’ll still love you afterwards. I’ll love you even more. Just do it.”

The warring voices in my head continued to make conflicting demands of me. They were also yelling at me now.

“Go on. He’s right; you’ll love it. Imagine taking it all in your mouth and licking that little drop of liquid from the end first. Imagine the feel of that beautiful shaft of flesh filling your whole mouth and throat . Imagine sliding up and down the length of it and gripping it with your teeth and giving it a nibble, your lips caressing it until he ejaculates into you and you swallow it all. Then he’ll know how powerful you are and he’ll do anything for you, just as long as you do it again and again. You’ll love it.”

The other voice said “Eeewww! Nasty! Gross! Why would you want to do it? All he wants is a blow-job, and like all blokes he’ll tell you any lies to get one. You’ll probably hate the taste anyway, and it'll just go all floppy and limp when he climaxes, so you won't even get the satisfaction of having it inside of you afterwards! ”

Slowly I drew my face away from his dick and unwrapped my hands from the pole of flesh. The voices faded.

“You bastard. I think I’m going to throw up. There’s no way I’m going to suck your cock. It’s a revolting idea and I don’t know why I let you try to get me to do it.”

“Hey! Listen mate, you agreed to the experiment, didn’t you?”

“Yes, well. I suppose I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“It looked like it went pretty close, but wasn’t that what we were trying to prove? That hypnosis could not force you to do something that you really didn’t want to do?”

“I know, but it seems that I’m always the one being hypnotised and being put into these awkward positions. Can we stop now? We must have enough material for our thesis by now. After all, we’ve been at it for over three years. Surely this must definitively show that there are limits and those limits cannot be crossed.”

“Well, that’s only because we established that you’re a much better subject for suggestion than me. If it had been the other way round I would have accepted it, but you’re right, honey; we’ve got lots of material and we know what’s possible and what’s not. I guess that this was the ultimate test. We’ll call it a day and start compiling our results, OK?”

We had a grant to produce a treatise on “An Investigation into the Possible Use of Hypnotherapy in the Treatment of Gender Dysphoria” and after experiment after experiment it looked like the time had come to actually write the thesis, as disappointing as that might be. Oh, well, it had been fun while it lasted.

One of the little voices in my head suggested I still had a chance to suck his cock; it wasn’t too late, but I kind of bludgeoned it into submission. Hmmm, talking of submission.. now would be nice...I battered that one back down too. Maybe some other time....tempting though.

“We’d better get dressed.”

Later I sat in front of my laptop trying to ignore my cleavage, even though I deliberately enhanced it with a maximiser bra and wore a low-cut dress to make sure it received the admiration that it deserved from Ben. I started reviewing the innumerable experiments that we had conducted.

Friends since childhood, we had attended the same schools and university, both studying the same discipline,we had started off with high hopes and great expectations, hoping to find a new tool to put into the service of medicine. Our first tests had shown that I was the one who was most susceptible...in fact, extremely so, to hypnosis, so inevitably I had been the main subject of our ensuing investigations.

We had tried hard for the next three years, but a scientist must be objective and we now had to admit that it had been a somewhat disappointing exercise. Quite frankly I can’t see a viable future for hypnotherapy in treating gender dysphoria.

Rather belatedly I realised that I should have been more assertive in the design of the experiments. Ben seemed to have framed many of them in a way which led to negative results.

I recalled one of the early ones where I was put into a trance and an attempt was made to get me to accept that my name was really Gerald and not Geraldine. I snorted to myself. When your name is such an integral part of yourself how can you be persuaded that it is something else? Ridiculous!

Remembering that dismally failed experiment caused me to recall others in the same mould. There was the one where he tried to get me to accept that it was wrong to have nice finger and toenails; that I shouldn’t have them shaped and varnished. I showed him that that wouldn’t work on me by going straight to a nail salon and getting my toenails shaped and a nice set of extensions on my fingernails, then had both tinted a beautiful hot pink. The girl who did them gave me some funny looks and giggled like crazy but allowed how nice they looked when she finished. I totally agreed with her as I admired her handiwork, wiggling fingers in front of my face in as feminine a manner as possible before triumphantly dashing back to show Ben that his stratagem had failed. I remembered that somehow he wasn't as disappointed as I had expected him to be.

Then there was the one with the ear-rings. He tried using the hypnosis to dissuade me from wearing them, but after I came out of the trance I showed him it wasn’t going to work by going and getting my ears pierced immediately and slipping a nice set of butterfly keepers in. I love wearing ear-rings and I took a few seconds to admire the dangly emerald pair I’ve got in at the moment, moving my head from side to side so that they swung back and forth caressing my neck. I'm never without them these days except when I take them out to sleep.

More and more of those futile experiments came to mind. I should keep my hair short; but I knew it looked much better when I wore it long and that silly suggestion goaded me into growing it half-way down my back; laser-treating my facial hair was a bad thing;I failed to see that, especially since a girl should only shave her legs,so my face quickly became hairless; do not wear cosmetics; as if I wouldn't try to look my best for him, and besides it makes me feel so much more attractive; collagen in the lips is totally unnecessary;I took a moment to admire my totally kissable pout enhanced by a carmine lipstick; high heels are bad for the feet; maybe...but they're just so pretty and make my legs look so good and I feel so sexy in them; skirts and dresses are draughty and impractical; but they're so elegant and feminine. I successfully resisted all those propositions. Hypnosis can’t make you do anything you really don’t want to do.

There were a couple that I went along with, mainly to stop Ben from getting too despondent. Besides, we had to use our grant money or it would be cut the next year. So I didn’t resist the suggestion that I take specific vitamins on a daily basis without fail. After all, it’s only sensible to keep yourself in good shape and my shape is certainly good now. I smiled as I looked down at my breasts, revelling in the delicious sense of femininity that surged through me. I couldn't see my waist from here but I knew I narrowed nicely before swelling out into a most satisfactory pair of hips and a skirt-filling bum.

Raising the pitch of my voice was another positive action. It did make me sound so much more natural, and then there was the one that really pleased him, which was my finally getting rid of the birth defect in my groin which had previously made me so insecure. Actually, I knew that with that useless appendage out of the way he would have to desist with all the stupid experiments that seemed to be designed to convince me that I was a boy. I had been going to get it fixed all along but I let him think he had pushed me into it. I had a failure of my own (a delicious one) in that I couldn't keep away from him after that and we slept (if you can call it sleeping) together every night once I came back from hospital and healed up. He seemed to appreciate that, and I know I did. It certainly improved our sex life.

Like I keep saying, we have demonstrated that hypnotherapy cannot make you do anything that you really don’t want to do, and there was no way I was going to let myself be made into a stupid boy. Why would I want to? They’re not all totally stupid, of course. I love Ben even if he is a bit thick at times. Anyway, I just can't imagine why a girl would even think about it.

When he says, “Gerry, I love you,” I just totally melt and will do nearly anything to please him. I just want to snuggle up in his arms and have him kiss me.

For some reason that made me mentally picture his throbbing erect penis again, and I got an urgent sense of anticipation feeling his hardness pressing against me for what we’re going to do in bed tonight. Maybe sucking it wouldn’t be so bad after all, and if I really don’t like it I don’t have to do it again.

I know how much he wants me to and sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, and bugger the hypnotherapy.