Chapter 1

Laundry Day

I hate laundry day. There’s something incredibly tedious about spending an afternoon going back repeatedly to move your crap from one machine to another, folding everything once it’s finally dry (especially the damn fitted sheets), and then putting everything back in the right place. Also, it is utterly beyond me to figure out which of the socks are mine, and which are my boyfriends’, especially after the dryer eats half the socks, and all the pairings are ruined. Fortunately, today it’s his turn to handle the laundry. Unfortunately, he’s even worse at it than I am, and I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t put the red towels in with anything else. There’s a place for pink in one’s life, but that doesn’t mean that all of my nice white shirts should be pink. You would think that a Dylan, a chemical engineer would know how detergent works of all things, but you would be wrong.

It is 7:30 in the morning, on Saturday. A time for rest and relaxation. I wake up briefly, check the clock by our bed, and snuggle back down in the blankets.

Then, Dylan rips the comforter off our bed, and I am fully awakened by a gust of cold air. Fuck. I must try to remind myself to appreciate that he is, for once starting laundry without me having to remind him 15 times. It is not working.

Dylan, what the hell? Can’t you start the linens after I get out of bed?

I thought you said you would make breakfast, if I did the laundry today. I’ve been up for an hour, and knowing how long you take to get up, I thought I had better wake you, or you’ll wind up making eggs for lunch again. If I’m going to have to sort the laundry, you might as well wake up and start being useful too.

Note to self: only offer to make brunch on Saturdays in the future. Especially if Dylan is scheduled to do laundry. Although, Dylan was hardly thrilled by brunch served at 1 p.m. either. I’m going to make fucking plain oatmeal from a packet, with sliced fruit. Just dump some cinnamon and allspice on it and suddenly it tastes like you tried. I begrudgingly get up, and prepare a delicious, healthy breakfast, for my starving boyfriend, who is working so hard. I attempt to be grateful for his help around the house. Unfortunately, I haven’t had my coffee yet, so I am emotionally unprepared to be grateful. I make coffee, the perfect side to anything when you desperately need caffeine.

Twenty minutes later, I go check on Dylan’s progress. Dylan has sorted a few socks from the dirty clothes into a pile, and is fiddling with his phone. Of course he is. Dylan is a wonderful, hard-working man, when he’s at his job. When he’s with me, he tries to relieve the stress of his work, and he seemingly cannot go five minutes without something to entertain him. Ugh, am I going to need to put on a goddamn show for him just to sort the laundry? I am literally barely awake, and still wearing just the boxers I went to sleep in, I don’t have the energy for this.

Dylan, breakfast is ready.

He looks up, startled.

We have a lovely homemade breakfast. I finally drink enough coffee to actually be ready to talk to people. Dylan mutters something about “damn, gluey oatmeal.” How lovely.

I, politely ask Dylan if he was asking for help sorting the laundry. I remind him that the first week of the month is the only one where he does laundry, and that I enjoy having at least one Saturday to relax in a month. It’s enough to shut him up about breakfast. Good.

I clean up the dishes of breakfast, and go check on Dylan again.

He has made seemingly no progress, and is on his damn phone again. I breathe deeply, and try to think pleasant thoughts. Ugh, fuck pleasant thoughts. Can he please do the damn laundry without me having to supervise him.

“Dylan, how’s the sorting going>” He looks up at me. “Dylan, what can I do to get you to do the laundry? Do I need to hypnotize you into doing it or something?”

            Dylan thinks for a moment, looking at me. “I cannot focus on something this dull, and we both know you’ll just have to re-do the sorting anyway? Why don’t you try doing your little psychology trick, and then, if it doesn’t work, you can help me do the sorting.”

            Well, that sounds like he agreed to being hypnotized, which makes hypnosis much easier. I remember that much from my Psych classes in undergrad. I don’t remember how I’m supposed to actually hypnotize anyone, but I’m willing to take a try at it if it means I have a chance to go be useless for the rest of this morning.

            I pick up a sock from the dirty clothes. “Fine, let’s give it a try. Dylan, look at this sock.” I start waving the sock slowly back and forth, like the golden pocketwatches of an age of richer, trained hypnotists. “Dylan, you love to do laundry. You find the sorting soothes your mind, and waiting for the wash cycle to end gives you a space to calm yourself, and the sorting makes you feel powerful, and in control. You love doing laundry perfectly. You even love looking up laundry tutorials for things you aren’t certain how to do. You love doing laundry because it calms you, and because you know it makes both you, and your loving boyfriend very happy, when you do laundry.” I continue on about how soothing doing laundry is, and how much it comforts him for at least another five minutes. I’m hoping that trying for a while will help make up for me having no idea what I’m actually supposed to do.

            Then, I stop waving the sock, and I check on Dylan. His face seems to have gone strangely smooth, calm for a moment. Then he seems alert, and looks back to me.

            “Hey, Mark, thanks for that little encouragement. I feel much more relaxed, and ready to get this laundry done.” I wonder whether what I did worked for a moment. Then Dylan starts laughing at me, telling me that hypnosis is only for quacks, and besides, he already loves doing laundry, so what was I bothering to do? He picks up the hamper of dirty clothes and starts sorting them into bright and dark piles.

            I am struck dumb for a moment, and leave the room. It seems like maybe it worked, but he hasn’t realized that any difference occurred. Or possibly he’s just joking with me. Whatever, he started sorting clothes, I can go lie on the couch and rest for a bit.

            I doze off, and when I wake up, feeling more refreshed, I go check on Dylan. He walks back into the living room holding a hamper of clean bright clothes, and starts folding them. Astonishing, It worked.

            He sees the shocked look on my face, and smiles. “Hey, honey, how was your nap? I’ve got this first load of clothes done.” I put my face back to a more normal expression, and think about what to do, now that I have discovered the secret to getting Dylan to do laundry. Or, maybe, could I hypnotize him into doing something else? I must explore this later. After the laundry is done, of course. If this is some sort of joke, I at least want him to have to go through with it. “I had a lovely nap, thank you. And thanks for doing the laundry, I realty appreciate it.” When I say that, he smiles at me again. I haven’t seen him look this happy in a while.

            Oh, fuck. It did work. The last time he really smiled at me like that was when I agreed to move in with him. I have hypnotized my boyfriend. My boyfriend can help around the house. He likes helping around the house. Also, I have maybe violated some sort of code of ethics, but I can deal with that when he stops beaming at me. I don’t know what to do. I just sit, and watch him fold the laundry for a bit. He seems calm in a way he hasn’t been since he started his job.

            The question, is what should I do with this? Unbidden, a though comes. Dylan, wearing only an apron, flaunting his body (a body much more ripped than the real Dylan’s body), cooking in the Kitchen, beaming the same way that he is right now. Shit, I’m horny now. Do I actually want Dylan to do that? It’s fucking hot, but it really isn’t much like the real Dylan, who is loyal, and usually supportive, but not especially sensual. Also, I have never seen Dylan cook anything except in the microwave. Cooking in the microwave is… not sexy.

            I decide to take a shower. I jerk off to the mental image, to feel less horny. Mustn’t decide to hypnotize anyone while I’m horny and do something I might regret.

            Having calmed down a bit, and think again about what to do with this fantasy. What would I hypnotize Dylan to do, exactly? Do I just want a one-off dinner? Would it still be hot with Dylan’s more average body, instead of a shredded frame with pecs that visibly ripple as he lifts a casserole out of the oven. Crap, I’m still too horny. What a day today has been. Discovering that I can hypnotize my boyfriend. And discovering a latent fetish for my boyfriend acting as some kind of kinky servant.

            I decide that the best thing to do is to talk with Dylan about what happened. Open and honest communication is important for a healthy relationship. Who knows, maybe Dylan would like being my muscular manservant. He definitely seems to be enjoying doing the laundry for me. Okay, that isn’t really the same thing, but it feels like it’s coming from the same place.

            I go check on Dylan. He seems to be folding the dark colored clothes now. Hmm, how to phrase this. Probably can’t just start off with… everything.

            “Dylan, how are you feeling today? You seem more relaxed than usual.”

            “Huh, what are you talking about. It’s laundry day. I always feel nice and relaxed on laundry day. There’s something soothing about doing the laundry. You know, I’ve been thinking, and I think I should take over doing the laundry. You clearly dislike doing it, and I like doing it. Plus, it makes you happy when I take care of it.”

            “Dylan, we need to talk about the hypnosis thing this morning. How did that make you feel?”

            “Mark, I feel fine. You waved a sock around for a few minutes, that’s not going to do anything.”

            “Well, maybe it seems that way to you, but to me, it feels like you’re being much more enthusiastic about doing the laundry than usual, and I want you to know that I appreciate it. And if you want to take over doing the laundry, then go ahead. But, can I ask you why you enjoy doing the laundry so much?”

            I noticed that when I said I appreciated Dylan doing the laundry that he started beaming again. It’s almost like when you start playing with a puppy or something. It’s kind of cute. It’s also not very like the Dylan I know.

            “I find something about doing the laundry sort of calming. A lot of it is a sort of quiet, repetitive thing, and I can just zone out and relax. Also, it feels like I’m helping you out with something, and you know I always love to lend you a helping hand.”

            “Would you mind lending me another hand then, and make dinner tonight?”

            Hmm, let’s see how this goes. The previous hypnosis didn’t cover Dylan doing anything but laundry, but he clearly wants to help out now. Even if he doesn’t initially agree to this, I might see if he would be agreeable to me hypnotizing him again—

            “You’re really asking me to make dinner on the same day I’m washing all the linens? Mark, I like helping you, but I don’t want to do everything around the house”

            Okay, this makes sense. I would need to hypnotize him differently for him to also want to do the cooking. I’ll save that for a later day. Figuring out how to get him to learn to cook, and to get him in that apron may require a bit more prior planning than what I did today. He clearly isn’t aware of the changes that hypnosis has on him, and I don’t want to do anything untoward that I can’t undo later.