From a young age, ever since I discovered what the word gay meant and how it applied to me, everyone in my neighborhood had a rosarie ready to hang me with. The neighborhood consisted of several rows of apartment buildings, and most of the occupants were Latinos from different backgrounds. Sadly likely with other minority groups at the time, many Latinos were also highly conservative when it came to any topic discussing LGBT folks. They would usually be immediately indoctrinated by the Catholic church by their own family members. Such with the the arrival of Catholicism, so did the harsh propaganda and demonization of those they deemed "unnatural", including the homosexuals. Thus, a vocal majority of Latinos deemed anyone with a hint of gay as immoral and corrupt, ready to mock and outcast anyone that didn't comply to their standards. Since I was the only gay boy seemingly around for miles, I was their easiest target, especially getting harassed by former friends and classmates. I was constantly humiliated, feeling ashamed and crying almost all day because no one wanted to be near me.

That was until my sophomore year when I was coming home from yet another dreaded day of school. I came up to the familiar uneven gravel driveway that was used for parking, trekking all the way to my apartment building near the back. The weather that day was cloudy, which I preferred over the sweltering heat waves that permeated a lot of Sin City. The stale scent of mildew was prevalent and ,fortunately, none of my neighbors were outside at 3 in the afternoon amongst this weather; they much preferred to stick indoors and lower the blinds. The only sounds emanating outside were the cars passing through the main road behind me and the noises bouncing off the cement parking walls. Passing by the 8th apartment building, the overwhelming amount of emotion rushed towards my face. My face flushed with joy with the immediate thoughts of playing anything on the Xbox 360 to forget whatever transpired that day. I almost made it home when I noticed in the near distance a very peculiar scene.

The apartment complexes in my area were divided by 12 foot brick walls, eventually merging with another once it reached the end of the neighborhood. In the corner where the walls merged was a slender woman dangling what seemed to be a locket. Standing opposite of her was a man who seemed quite familiar, but I couldn't catch much detail from the initial distance I stood. Approaching them more softly, I realized the man in front of the woman was none other than Mr. Esteban Hernández, a single father who lived near the entrance of the neighborhood. Esteban was a man of both Mexican and Dominican descent, with his most notable features being his prominent eyes and his perfectly white teeth, which added to his overall charm and good looks. Esteban also had a fair amount of black  hair throughout his slightly toned body. Although his hairline receded a little bit, his chinstrap beard, arms, knuckles, and chest would indicate he was indeed a hairy man. He somewhat reminded me of John Leguizamo, an actor I had a huge crush on since I was in middle school. I personally knew him from formerly being friends with his son Berto, who stopped hanging out with me around middle school due to peer pressure. As kind hearted as Mr. Hernández was, Berto refused to associate with me even when he would invite me over to dinner, thus I stopped visiting their house.

There was something off about Esteban the moment I came closer. His eyes protruded out more than usual, slightly past the eyelids. His mouth slightly agape, his focus was pulled into the gold and turquoise pendant the woman was swinging slightly in front of his face. He stood absolutely still, stiff like a nutcracker soldier; his arms and legs seemingly fused together to his sides and his neck stretched apart from his shoulders. Even the fingers on his hands were pointing straight downward in perfect alignment with his legs. The sound of the gravel shifting under my foot gave me away as the stranger turned her head immediately towards me and tucked the watch into her coat pocket. Mr. Hernández continued to stand motionless as she started to approach me.

The woman had on a beautiful burgundy trench coat, white ranchera mid calf boots, and fitted navy blue demin jeans that complimented her curvy body. Upon getting a closer look at her, the mysterious Latina had high cheekbones, smooth brown skin, a tiny black birthmark near her trimmed angular eyebrows, and luxurious, black wavy hair that reached down her back. But what caught the most attention was her nearly black-brown eyes. They reminded me of a fresh brewed cup of coffee, a dark inviting brown color that became pitch black the more you got closer to the iris. The woman resembled Bibi Gaytán, a former Mexican pop singer and actress who had a brief television career in the early 90's. She finally began to speak as she peered into me, her voice was smooth like velvet.

"Te gusta lo que ves?" she asked, pointing to the statuesque body of Mr. Hernández. Staring at his slack jawed face, my throat felt tight the longer I viewed. Fear never struck me in this moment, it was more of an intense mixture of lust and curiosity. "Sí," I choked out, realizing that there was something extremely sexual about seeing a grown man in this helpless state. Her grin spread slightly, seeing an opportunity had opened up. "I've seen you around here before, not a very sociable person are you?" She began as she lingered around me and wrapped her delicate hands around my shoulders. "In fact, nobody here ever respected you. Siempre te regañaban, no? What have you done to them to deserve such loathing?" That particular line struck me hard. I never felt wanted by anyone in the neighborhood, so in response I became reclusive and socially awkward as the years went on. I never felt that there was anything wrong with me as a child; I did exactly what my parents told me to do, was always respectful towards the neighbors, even if I didn't really like them. I never went out of my way to hurt anyone, so why did they persecute me?

As the thoughts began to flood my mind, she rested her chin on my right shoulder, a motion to comfort in mind. "Lo siento, I know what it's like to not be treated fair," the stranger continued, "When I became a woman, I fell for every trick in the book by a lot of caballeros, until one day I was given the power to break their own minds. One by one, they submitted their own life to me. Un chico cómo tú podrías beneficiarse de este poder. Quieres saber cómo?" she asked. Fearing I would lose this opportunity, I quietly nodded as she turned. The woman proceeded to draw out the watch from earlier and cusp it into the palm of her right hand. Although it was heavily cloudy outside, I noticed the glass around the watch emanated a glistening shine. It was strikingly beautiful, but I didn't know how it was able to immobilize the bronze gentle giant just from staring at it.

"There are a few of us in the world that have the potential to control others, we just require certain instruments to enhance our powers. Mi mamá me regaló este reloj en mi quincinera. It has the power to control any straight man in my direction. It's what my mother used in order to control my own father." the lady mentioned, slowly twirling the golden chain in her hand. "I don't know if you have any potential gift yet, pero pronto lo descubrirás." She then tucked the watch back into her pocket, proceeded to rise up and stand in front of the dazed young man. "For now, I'll let you borrow Esteban here to practice." She smiled as she stroked his bearded jawline for a brief moment. He never moved a slight inch from whatever she was doing to him, even as she dribbled his bottom lip downward with her index finger.

"I don't know how to hypnotize though." I uttered, how could I practice if I didn't know how it worked and where to start. The stranger turned around and leaned her head over  Esteban's right ear, she appeared to whisper something to him. I wasn't sure what she said to him at first, as there was no use in trying to read her lips from where I stood. My eyes paid close attention to his face, anticipating any sort of reaction. Finally, after possibly standing there for what I assumed was maybe half an hour, the man simply responded with "Entiendo señora" and suddenly did a right face turn towards me. His glassy gaze locked onto mine as he added "Buenas tardes maestro, soy Esteban Hernández, tu nuevo esclavo. I am ordered to assist you on your mission to fully brainwash me!" If it wasn't for the lengthy jacket covering the top half of my jeans, I think she would've noticed my erection was beginning to form.

I would be lying if I said this moment didn't influence my kink further. Here was a grown man in his late thirties, thirty-eight at the time to be specific, pledging his servitude to a sixteen year old fairy. His monotone voice reached an octave lower than his own speaking voice; Almost devoid of any emotion or awareness, he was asleep with his eyes wide open. "Now that I've programmed him to assist you subconsciously, I will wake him up soon," the stranger announced. "You will use this time to test out any item that will bring him back into this state. When he starts to drift off at any point while he's awake, you've found the instrument suited for you. From then on, you will be alone to craft your powers." She turns towards Mr. Hernández and continues "Esteban hear me now. I'm going to count to one and snap my fingers, you will not remember being hypnotized. Quando despiertes, no recordarás nada lo que te he dicho. You will only assume we had a nice chat, but you will invite this boy into your home afterwards and allow him to do whatever he wants. Once you become hypnotized, you will obey any and all of his commands. Do you understand?"

"Sí señora I will obey all of his commands," Esteban repeated, sealing his fate. The woman brings her left hand close to his face, her middle finger pressed against her thumb. "3, 2, 1!" Her fingers stuck each other quickly with an audible snap. Mr. Hernández starts rapidly blinks his eyes and stretches out his muscles, not knowing they've been locked in place for quite some time. He releases a yawn and turns towards my direction, a look of surprise fills his face. "Hey, I haven't seen you in a while. How've you been mijito?" "Hey Mr. Hernández," I quietly replied, not knowing how else to respond to him after witnessing his subservience beforehand. Esteban looked around for a bit, briefly wondering about his predicament before he continued "Bueno, bueno. Hey I know this is gonna sound weird, but did you wanna come over and talk? Berto's gonna be at his cousin's after soccer practice so I have the house to myself." Just hearing Esteban's warm invitation, a sense of guilt loomed over for taking advantage of his consciousness. I debated with my morality for a minute, before deciding on visiting their house. After all, I assumed total control of myself and not get carried away. I looked over to my right, seeing the mysterious woman now farther away in the distance, waving her hand goodbye as she mended into the rest of the neighborhood.

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I finally arrived to the Hernández house with Esteban. Although I still wasn't on good terms with his son Berto, I was aware that oftentimes Berto would usually hang out with his first cousin Andrés after school a lot. His cousin also lived in the same area, but the next street over where there were actual houses instead of apartments. Although I used to hang out consistently with Berto in elementary, I barely had talked with Andrés throughout the early years. Even when Berto began to avoid me, Andrés wouldn't even acknowledge my existence after the gay rumors started. It was indeed awkward coming back to Berto's house, arriving alone with his dad. If only it was simply just to hang out with Esteban.

We both entered the house and began shuffling our feet to rid of any dirt onto the entrance rug. I closed the door behind us quickly. Even though there was definitely not a soul outside, I was afraid of any familiar nosy neighbors finding out I was here. "Make yourself at home," Esteban announced as he headed to the kitchen fridge. "Is there anything you want to eat or drink?" he asked, slightly shaking an aluminum can of Pepsi in his hand. "No I'm okay, gracias," I replied, honestly I didn't know what to do next so I remained standing by the entrance. Esteban emerged from the kitchen and motioned his hand to the chair, followed by "Sit down, relax mijo." I slowly made my way to the brown leather sofa on the other side of the wooden coffee table. Esteban plopped down onto the accent chair beside the couch I sat on.

Mr. Hernández began to offer me access to his television, "Watch whatever you want mijito. Mi casa es su casa," he finished with the corny tagline. I picked up the remote in hand and asked if there was anything in particular he wanted. "Anything you want, I just enjoy the company." He let out a coy smile my direction. My cheeks flushed at the attention, I then grabbed the control and began flipping the channels. Skipping over telenovelas and action shows that were broadcasting at this time, I paused at MTV Tres was playing a familiar music video by Caifanes. As soon as the song 'La Célula Que Explota' played, Mr. Hernández wailed out "Oh I love this song! Turn it up!" Raiding the volume to a comfortable level, I audibly embraced one of my favorite songs and shut my eyes. I imagined the swirling synth during the chorus, the delicate hits of the marimba complimenting the guitar and bass, the splash cymbals fading to the beat of the snare, the majestic trumpet that drop into the last segment, and the crooning of the lead vocalist washed over me. The textures of the music filled up the room, Esteban's voice faded into the background as it went on. Once the music video finished and the song was over, I opened my eyes, a quiet sense of joy had overtaken me.

I turned to my right and noticed Esteban resting his head to his chest. Did he fall asleep? Wait, was Mr. Hernández hypnotized? Did I find what out what my instrument was? Was it the music or the television I played? All these questions swirled inside my head as I approached the sleeping giant carefully. "Mr. Hernández, can you hear me?" I chose to ask, not sure if he was truly asleep. I got my answer immediately when a deep voice emerged from his lips, "Yes, I can hear you." My erection came back with a vengeance upon hearing his voice, my how far it dropped from his usual chipper tone. "Esteban I want you to listen to me carefully, you are hypnotized right now. I'm going to help deepen your trance, do you understand?" "Yes I understand," came his automated response. It was now time to enact phase one of his reconditioning.

I picked up the remote and lowered the volume of the television as another song began to play, 'La Fuerza Del Destino' by Mecano. I didn't want to completely turn it off the music, in fact I really enjoyed this song. If I did, I wondered if he would've been receptive at all to my next onslaught of suggestions. "Esteban I want you to move over and sit down on the couch where I last sat in," I began my induction. "As you do, you will start to feel waves of relaxation course throughout your body. You muscles will become limp overtime that you will feel yourself merging with the cushions. You body will start to numb as you slack, unless I tell you to feel anything I'm stimulating. The more you loosen up, the deeper you go under. The deeper the hypnosis, the more rewarded you are from obeying and acting out any command I give. Because Mr. Hernández, not only are we deepening your mental psyche, but you will enjoy the hypnosis and follow all orders to remain in this state. Do you understand?"

"Yes I understand," came a meekly reply. He slowly rose from his chair and dropped down into the middle of the couch in front of the coffee table. His muscles noticably unwound immediately upon making contact with the leather cushions. I knew I loaded a lot of commands to the rugged young gentleman and was still processing all of it. I quickly decided to continue issuing the next command before he might build any train of thought. "Place you legs on the coffee table." "Yes master," he said and placed his feet onto the wooden surface in full view. "I'm about to remove your shoes and socks, this will help you become more comfortable and more obedient. You love to be barefoot every single time you're in my presence. Do you understand?" "Yes," he answered back, "I like to be barefoot all the time I'm in your presence." "No, you LOVE to be barefoot around me!" I corrected him, needing to make sure that this particular line was enforced into his routine. "I love to be barefoot around you!" Esteban volleyed back like a parakeet. "I understand and obey."

I started to untie his dark brown work boots, slightly pulling on the laces to loosen up the tongue. I lifted his right foot slightly in the air and slowly pulled off his boot, revealing a slightly musky socked foot with light brown sweatprints. The same procedure was repeated with his left foot, placing his boots underneath the coffee table. With both socked feet exposed, I shifted my body to get closer to them, my head almost three inches away from his soles. I looked over at Esteban's face, he looked somber at this stage, the eyes were halfway shut while his mouth remained slight ajar. Content with the results so far, I continued on and seized both of his feet. My thumbs commenced to massage his large socked feet in a swirling pattern, he has not shown any reaction yet. "Do you feel what I'm doing to your feet right now, Mr. Hernández?" I asked. "Yesss" Esteban responded, the drowsiness was hinted in his speech. "Do you like what I'm doing to them?" then came the next intrusive question, preparing for any sort of resistance building within him. "Yeth..." He simply replied, sinking slightly further into the couch as his legs stretched closer to me.

"You will start to appreciate any attention I give to your feet. While the rest of your body may be paralyzed under my command, in this moment you will feel any sensation done to your feet and it will satisfy you. In fact Esteban, you will offer me your bare feet to worship. I doubt you've ever experienced this before, but it will quickly become an exciting hobby for you. You understand and obey me, is that clear?" I asked, intrigued if he would be able to remember all that. "I understand n' o-bey... worsh'p my bare feeet mass-ter..." came the deep, infectious voice of Esteban, sounding as if he reached the bottom of the Mariana Trench. I finished rubbing his feet through his socks, deciding to free them instead. My fingers clutched the tips of his thick, cotton socks and slowly heaved them upward, anticipating for the reveal of exposed skin. Although he usually did a lot of heavy labor during the day, Esteban was still a man who surprisingly took care of his feet. His feet were pedicured well and only a bit of callous skin appeared under his big toes. There were wisps of jet black hair on both his insteps and toes, followed by small veins popping out from underneath the hairs, like tiny streams running throughout a forest. Esteban clearly had the manliest feet I had ever seen. I wonder if Berto's feet would be similar as well. "Like father, like son" I thought to myself.

Mesmerized by the sight before me, I suddenly realized I still haven't figured out his size, both shoe had worn out tags. "Tell me Esteban, what size are your feet?" I demanded. "13 an a-half, mast'r." Mr. Hernández replied dutifully. My what gorgeous masculine feet the single father had. "Esteban, you will start to feel your manly feet being licked, your plump toes being sucked, and my face rubbing all over your soles because your feet now belong to me. And as I worship you feet, you will subconsciously surrender your will to me and go deeper. Say it!" I commanded the empty shell before me. "Lick my feeet... suck mi toeess.... rub you faece.... my feet be-long to you... I will surr-ender to youu..." Esteban bellowed out, suppressing any chance of free thought. This was finally my chance to make the move.

I began to rub my cheeks against his soft, warm feet. My nose explored in-between each digit before me, taking in the scent of a working man. The scent was light, possibly due to the cotton socks. I couldn't resist any longer and began to lap at the ball of his right foot. My tongue began moving in a swirling motion around the callous before I moved onto his toes. As I inserted his big toe into my mouth, I looked over at Esteban once again. The buff Latino was dragging his breath, his empty eyes fixated what was being done to his feet. Although Mr. Hernández was in a trance, deep down he was enamored by the new sensations thanks to my suggestions. Developing under the zipper of his light blue denim jeans was the formation of a stiff mound. It's not too early to say that he is definitely enjoying this more than expected.

I carried onto individually sucking each toe and darting my tongue in between the crevices. Mr. Hernández continued to moan as the hypersensitivity from the worship traveled through his body, yet he simply laid there, not able to move himself unless I ordered him to. His half opened gaze observed the motion of my tongue sliding up his sole before transferring to the other foot and back again. His face began exhibiting a look of frustration and confusion. I did lavish in noticing his sleepy face registering his inability to pleasure himself. Not wanting to torture him any longer and potentially risk him waking up, I issued my next command. "Esteban, you're now able to move your body cómo tú quieras. This means that you can finally masterbate, but I need you to listen carefully. After you've released, you will enter the deepest hypnotic state you will ever reach. Your delicious soles now serve me from now on. They will be available to me whenever I want. Do you understand?" "Yes master, they're yours whenever you want," the hypnotized hunk spoke, already having both unbuckling his tan leather belt and unzipped his fly, Esteban's dick poked through the hole of his checkered boxer and was being stroked in a slow, steady motion.

"When you are awake, you will not remember anything about being hypnotized. You will also not feel any different from before. Whenever you hear me say 'Pies de caramelo', you will immediately return to this hypnotic state of bliss. Do you hear me?" I coaxed him. "Yes master, pies de caramelo..." Esteban droned the phrase to himself. "Now that you're aware of your trigger words, you'll want to share this exact experience with other men, including your son Berto," I suggested as I lifted his right foot in the air. My fingers then began to gently scratch his sole. His foot slightly twitches in reaction, the toes scrunch and flex with each glide of the fingertips, yet Esteban never pulled his foot away. His face didn't indicate any emotion either, except for monotonous lust. I halted on the tickling, took a brief lick up and down his foot, then I set it back down on the coffee table. "You will help me invite any man you know of to your place. Any good looking men: neighbors, coworkers, family and friends. You will notify me of when they arrive and do your best to secure them. Once I begin playing music, you must remove your shoes and socks, then wait for further instructions. You are also welcome to remove any shoes and socks of the hypnotized men as well. Lo entiendes?"

"I understand and I obey," Esteban groaned. I can tell that he was getting close to climax. I brought myself back down to his feet and continued ravaging them. Banding both of his big toes together, my lips slowly engulfed them passionately while I glided my fingernails against his feet. The man's toes went wild in my mouth, fidgeting for a quick release. Mr. Hernández was huffing louder and louder, his grip around his member tightened as he quickened the pace. Esteban then released a gutteral moan as thin streams of semen erupted from his shaft. I had never seen another man ejaculate beforehand. From my point of view, it was the equivalent of seeing a firework show for the first time. I was witnessing this glorious moment while bathing Esteban's left foot with my tongue. The milky power squirts initially landed onto his chest and stomach area, while the remains were located on his masturbating right hand. Luckily for Esteban, both his button up and undershirt were white, matching the discharge. He finally let go after a minute of cooling off, his body shuddered as it slowly sank into the sofa once again. He shut his eyes as the final wave of comfort enveloped his body.

Unlike Esteban, who had just finished jerking, I had yet to. I crouched upright and positioned both of his feet together once again. My thumbs lowered my jeans and underwear, enough to make room for my genitals. "Esteban..." I cooked softly, "I need you to sit up straight and obey. I want you to repeat the phrase 'Hombres descalzos e hipnotizados me hacen correrme'. Do not stop unless I tell you to." Mr. Hernández rose mechanically, his eyes darted forward. "Yes master, I understand," was the automated response from Esteban, thus beginning his incantation. His voice never rising or falling, just a flat rhythm of "Hombres descalzos e hipnotizados me hacen correrme. Hombres descalzos e hipnotizados me hacen correrme. Hombres descalzos e hipnotizados me hacen correrme." Meanwhile, through the motions of an orgasmic bliss, the tip of my penis was playfully poking at his soles. Esteban remained motionless, his view hyper focused beyond the wall in front of him. The rush was cutting very close, having to force myself to stop rubbing his well lubricated feet against my prick. "I'm about to apply a special ointment onto your feet. Think of it like a foot lotion. It will still bewitch you in your waking state, reinforcing any suggestion I make is reasonably true. When you wake up, you will doubt anything wrong happened and all I did was give you a well deserved foot massage while you slept. Is that clear?"

"Sí maestro, only a foot massage." Esteban remained stoic in both movement and reaction. Just the look from his blank face was enough to send me over the edge. I firmly pressed the tip of my penis against his left sole as semen erupted forth. My chest tightened a little, unconsciously slowing my breath down as the sensation neared it's end. I have never felt an orgasm this thrilling in my life. Finally after calming down, I looked down to see the result. Only a small section of his sole was covered in my seed, a trail leading to the pool forming at his heel and the coffee table. My hands reached down and scooped whatever remains were available, eventually distributing the semen across every inch of his feet. Upon applying the final touches and reaching the clad of hair on his insteps, I knelt up and observed my masterpiece; a pair of sleek, sticky, hairy feet resting peacefully on a wooden surface. This was enough fun and had to wake him soon, tucking his flaccid member back into his underwear and fixing up his jeans and belt. I also slipped my pants over my lower half beforehand.

"Remember what I told you and now wake up!" I projected and snapped my fingers. After a split second, the once solid husk began to stir sluggishly. Esteban stretched from a long nap and saw me near his feet. He looked a bit puzzled at first before flashing a quick smile. "Hay mijo I can't believe I fell asleep. That was very nice of you to massage my feet, I hope they didn't smell or anything." He asked me, slightly concerned. I smiled at him, "Oh no I didn't mind, they didn't smell at all." Mr. Hernández shot out a laugh as he stood up. "Well I'm glad they didn't, I'm glad they were okay to you. I don't mind if you do it often whether I'm awake or asleep, it felt so nice after standing on my feet for hours. I'm about to take a shower now and slip into something more comfortable, why don't you head on home?" He flashed another shot of his veneers, patting me slightly on my shoulder. "Okay Mr. Hernández I will." I responded. Esteban waved at me before heading to his bedroom and closed the door.

I recognized the faint chorus playing through the background, Aterciopelados' 'Rompecabezas' had just reached the halfway point. I had forgotten that the television was on this entire time because I lowered the volume. Deciding not to waste any more electricity, I reached over for the remote. As I grasped it, I noticed that Esteban forgot his work boots and socks tucked under the table. Placing the remote back down, I creeped my hand into one of the shoes to retrieve a sock. I brought it to my nose, still carrying the faint scent of sweat. Just as I had grabbed the other sock when I heard the lock click of the front door unlocking. I hastily stuffed both socks into my pocket as I saw two figures enter through the doorway: Berto and Andrés. I sat there frozen in fear as they stood there speechless.

Both Berto and Andrés were physically more fit than me. Although he played soccer, Berto trained vigorously three times a week to become a striker on the school team, having the slim-muscled chest and robust calves for the position. Andrés was a bit more on the hefty side, but that didn't affect his overall high stamina and quick agility, earning himself the goalie position. Both of the young Latinos luckily had some good genetics, often having admirers after school. Berto reminded me a lot of a young Oscar De La Hoya, with his spiky, jet black hair and bright brown eyes. I remember he would claim when we first me that apparently he was his distant uncle. If only that were true to begin with. Andrés, on the other hand, looked a lot like young Benicio Del Toro since they both sported slightly sunken eyes.

Both boys had a look of shock in their faces as they were not expecting me to be home. The faint hum of pipes running water traveled through the walls in the back, definitely Esteban was not here to save me. Andrés slowly closed the door behind him as Berto kept his gaze locked onto me. "What are you doing here?" came the young Hernández response. I knew I had to had act fast, so I quickly turned up the television as another song began to play on MTV. "It's been a while," I calmly responded, 'De Musica Ligera' by Soda Stereo filled the room.

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After searching the cabinets for a while, I finally found myself some confectionery: a can of whipped cream, a bottle of chocolate syrup and some condensed milk, particularly La Lechera. Music was on playing in the background, 'Solo' by Linda Mirada slowly congested the atmosphere. I began calling out "Who wants dessert?" A few grunts of "me" came from the living room. I assumed everyone of course, opening another cabinet and pulling out three ceramic plates. I placed the condiments on top and headed to living room. All three men present, Esteban, Andrés, and Berto, sat motionless on the couch side by side. Three pairs of feet rested on the coffee table in front on me, Esteban's 13 and a half still dominant I'm size than Andrés' size 12 and Berto's 12 and a half. Kneeling down on the carpet again, I placed the plates and food to my right and surveyed the family.

Esteban had on a casual vaquero type of outfit. He changed into a silky black button up which paired with the acid washed bootcut jeans he had, giving off a blue sunburst on his legs. The older Hernández accompanied it with a white leather belt, decorated with a large golden buckle of a horse, and a denim blue baseball cap. He also initially wore his dark brown snake boots, but since entering the room to investigate the commotion and finding me brainwashing his nephew, he luckily followed through and instantaneously went into trance. Esteban sluggishly leaned over and removed his boots and thick black socks before handing them to me. Berto was wearing a similar attire to his father, I ordered him to change into something formal within the first 10 minutes. The only difference was his plaid shirt sporting a lime green and dark blue pattern, a sports watch on his left wrist, a brown leather belt, and a black, slightly curved vaquero hat. Andrés was still in the same clothes he arrived in, having already changed out of his uniform earlier. He wore a grey cotton T-shirt, black baggy jeans, and a pair of black converse.

"Listen up my servants, remind me again what your trigger phrase is." I went about my next sequence. "Pies de caramelo," all three mumbled. "And what should you do once you're hypnotized within my presence?" I asked, expecting their follow-up answer. "Surrender our shoes and socks to you, we must be barefoot in your presence!" The Hernández family droned out their new instructions. Both Andrés and Berto dislodged their shoes and socks, tossing them gently to the side, while Esteban rested in the middle of the sofa, bare feet still planted to the table. I leaned over his soles to get a good whiff, detecting the body wash Esteban used earlier. After both young men set their bare feet back onto the table, I continued on with the sequence. "Now that you're barefoot and hypnotized, you'll grant me your feet to do with them as I please. Do you understand?" "Yes master!" they mustered in unison. My hands began criss crossing their feet with one another: Esteban's right foot with Berto's right, Esteban's left foot with Andrés' left, and Berto's left foot entwining with Andrés' right in the middle. I placed all three plates underneath the pile of feet, rolling up their cuffs past their ankles. The next thing to do was initiate the decorating, drizzling the chocolate and condensed milk all over their brawny soles before garnishing their toes with whipped cream. Meanwhile, all of the men remained seated, their eyes preoccupied with the television set. Deciding to start with the left side, my face loomed over on both Esteban and Berto's right feet beside each other. I leaned in closer and focused on Berto's foot, seeing how closely it resembled his dad's foot. "Like father, like son," I whispered to myself as I stuffed both of their big toes into my awaiting mouth.

To be continued....