Hypnovember 16 - Memory
#16 of Hypno Stories
All characters are 18+
"Well, how do you feel?"
"Nah man, I don't see it," said Coco. The equine athlete adjusted the baseball cap that fit snug around his noggin. He scooped a long portion of his creamy white mane through the hole in the back as he adjusted his coffee coloured shoulders in the mirror. He posed for himself in the middle of Bradford's walk-in closet--flashed that hot hunk of equine beauty his best smile. "You really want me to go clubbing in this hat? Naw, bruh. Ain't gonna work with my look."
The goat, half the size of the horse tilted his head and stroked the long cascading lochs between his two curled horns. He sashayed towards the shelf whereupon his collection of hats sat. He considered a few of them, humming a short little tune to himself.
Coco turned the hat backwards. Now that the brim was out of his view, he did love how his protruding face looked with the extra flair. He imagined Coach wouldn't mind if he wore it backwards during practice. Heh. It wasn't like he could refuse a request from his star player.
"Hm, yeah, I agree sweetie," the goat said. "The colour isn't good for you."
"Actually bruh," the horse said, pouting to himself and smacking his lips, confidence flowing through him like river. "I kinda like it now. We'll head out, I'll give the sluts a taste of these guns and then we'll both get some--"
The goat wrapped both hands around that baseball cap and--
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
"Well, how do you feel?"
Oscar looked into the mirror, finding his equine form topped with a beret. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Vell, the make is nice." The horse's tail swished out behind him, free palm clutching the opposite elbow. He spoke calmly, with the slight tilt of an accent he hadn't shaken since his move to the country a year ago. Luckily, the stallion met the goat on orientation day at his university. Campus had such dull individuals and the horse was eager to find someone--anyone with an outfit that had a single splash of colour. Then he met the goat on the subway in a fierce, blue blazer.
"Hmmm, yes," said the goat. He reached up and adjusted the beret an inch, tilted the horse's head to an angle he preferred, and hummed his favourite melodic tune some more. He nodded softly for a few seconds before transitioning to a shake of the head. "Hmmm...no."
He removed--
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
"Well, how do you feel?"
Pierre the horse looked in the mirror to find himself in a leather cap. He turned his head to find a cute little goat boi--probably in his early twenties. The stallion's broad hands reached out to cup his chin as he gazed deep into this cutie's eyes. "Hey darlin'. You paid for an overnight, full deluxe experience with a proper stallion. And that's exactly what you're gonna get." He licked his lips. "Now...would the pretty boi tell me his safe word? That's when I can really start to take care of you."
"Hmm..." hummed the goat, impassive. "Very nice. You've come a long way. You even constructed a scenario for why you are in my closet."
"Hey, cutie pie. If you're role playing, want to let me in on it? Much sexier that way, I promise you."
"Oh yes, we'll save this cap for later. But right now I need something more presentable for the public eye."
"Heheh, oh I can do vanilla if that's what you--"
The goat snatched his cap--
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Emp--
-
"Hmm-hmmmm, doo-doo...ba la de da--" sang the goat softly as his lithe, glossy arms placed this cap with the others on the shelf. Behind him, paying the goat and everything else in the world no heed, stood an empty stallion. Without a hat on his head, the horse's eyes were rolled back, showing only whites. Drool leaked like a fountain from his lips. His shoulders were slack and his head hung limp. A gust of wind could have knocked him over. The only thing holding him up was the need for input. Like a robot without programming, the horse stood there while the goat cherry picked his next name, his next personality, his next history.
Bradford realized his mistake looking at his collection. Most of the personas he'd assigned to the horde of hats were a bit overbearing. Passionate attitudes were hot, but he was in the mood for a quiet evening in a high-class restaurant. Perhaps he should pick something a bit more demure this time. His eyes widened as they locked onto the silk hat that wouldn't look out of place in a magician's act. Bradford smiled. He could use the caress of a gentleman tonight.