tagMind ControlThe Unusual Sexuality of M. Spandoz

The Unusual Sexuality of M. Spandoz


Sometimes Randolph Trevais enjoyed a succession of clients: more often than not he had long periods of idleness between the typical and not so normal clients who sought his services. Tuesday, so far, had been one of those latter days. Randolph played with his pencil. He doodled, he practised his signature, he drew pictures, he inserted the blunt end in his right ear and examined the end to see if it was waxy. He was bored, very bored. The only spark of interest in the day had been his new receptionist. He had been sorry to see the old one go. She had been very good. The patients responded well to her, she made an excellent cup of tea and had been very pleasant indeed. Still, she was gone, seven months pregnant (nothing to do with him at all), and now he had a new girl, younger and prettier though a bit reserved, not too jolly and, importantly, not able to make a good cup of tea.

He sighed. She had brought his mug in with the teabag in it! His eyes looked upward - had she not noticed the teapot? No one with an ounce of sense made tea by putting a teabag in a mug and then pouring hot but (probably) not boiling water on it. Randolph scratched his beard and stuck the pencil in his other ear. Was he bored or was he bored? He glanced at the copy of 'Hypnosis Today' on the desk beside him - could he stand reading that? It would be full of smug articles by leading practitioners on how they had done this and how their latest technique had worked. Another article would critical examine, with references, a difficult, no almost impossible, case some hypnotherapist had undertaken and the, no doubt, successful conclusion. He sipped his tea - bloody hell she had put sugar in it!

There was a knock on the door, it opened "Mr. Trevais, there is a new client to see you." Randolph looked up. Yes, his receptionist certainly was pretty.

The new client, or clients, proved to be a mother and son, a Mrs. Spandoz and her son, Malcolm. Randolph greeted the mother but in his usual observant way was also looking at the son who seemed to be watching the new and pretty receptionist close the door.

"Do sit down. Tea, coffee?" Randolph rang through to his receptionist with the order.

"Now how can I be of help?"

Mrs. Spandoz indicated fairly quickly that it was her son who was the problem. It took rather longer for Randolph to extract the problem from her. Whilst his mother was talking the son studiously examined the carpet, only glancing up when the door opened and the receptionist brought in the coffee. The boy watched as she closed the door before returning to his careful examination of the carpet. Randolph thought that he had certainly been looking at the receptionist's legs.

"Most boys of my son Malcolm's age, he's nineteen, are interested in girls, are they not Mr. Trevais?"

"I believe so." But Randolph thought to himself, "Oh no, she wants me to 'cure' him of being gay." But this was not the cause of Mrs. Spandoz's worry.

"Malcolm does not seem to be interested in, or even look at girls, do you Malcolm?"

Malcolm said something indistinct to the carpet.

"Have I found any dirty magazines in his bedroom? No. Does he sit up late at night watching Channel 4? No. Does he even have posters of half naked girls on his walls? No. Do I hear his bedroom door creaking away at night? Oh, yes I hear that!"

She looked at Randolph expectantly. He really did not know what to say.

"And?" he ventured after a time.

"I have always taken Malcolm out on trips. We went to a National Trust house the other day - it doesn't matter which - and what did I find Malcolm doing? Moving those great mahogany doors between the rooms, just pulling them to and fro. Well I did not know what to think."

Nor did Randolph. He was quite lost at this. What was the problem? The boy opened and closed doors?

"That was when I really got worried. I didn't say anything, certainly not to his father, but when I came home unexpectedly the other day. What do you think I found?"

Randolph had no idea, but he noticed a red flush of embarrassment seeping across Malcolm's neck and face. What could it be? Surely not in bed with another boy?

"There he was naked, sitting in the doorway of his bedroom, his willy all stiff in his hand. He was, well you know what boys do Mr. Trevais."

Randolph did, so he nodded, and it was not just boys he thought.

"And with his other hand he was moving his door so it creaked Mr. Trevais, he was masturbating to his door!" She looked triumphantly at him, she had got it out. It could not have been easy for her to tell all this to a stranger. "And I want it to stop. I want you to hypnotise away this nonsense and get him interested in girls like normal boys." She stood. "Can I leave him with you? I'll wait outside." And was gone.

Randolph looked at Malcolm.

"Biscuit?" he said. He had noted that the chocolate biscuits had not been touched and he did not like to take one without his client taking one first. He was also not at all sure how to approach this problem. Malcolm was not looking at him, just the carpet. He did not respond to the biscuit question - which was not promising. Randolph took a biscuit.

"Did you want to come here?" he asked.

"No." came as a very clear response. Malcolm looked up at Randolph.

A reaction - good, thought Randolph.

"Thought not." He smiled. Malcolm almost smiled back.

"Biscuit - chocolate biscuit? Your mother is paying for them after all." He smiled again and got a response. Malcolm was looking at him and of course once someone really looks at Randolph Trevais - looks him in the eyes - it is difficult to look away. Randolph held his eyes just for a few moments. Malcolm relaxed a bit.

"So doors," he said turning his head to look at the door to the room, "doors, um, rather different?"

Malcolm looked down, "I don't like to be laughed at - you think I'm stupid."

"Not me, no, not at all. Interesting yes, professionally fascinating yes, stupid no. Amusing? Well let's be honest it is unusual but... you can't catch anything dangerous from a door can you?"

Malcolm smiled - perhaps a finger."

"Or..." risked Randolph.

Malcolm laughed. Randolph was making contact.

"Tell me," he begun.

"I just like the way they move you see."

Randolph nodded.

"Each has her own character. Some of course you wouldn't look twice at. Others, like the ones Mum mentioned, so perfectly hung, deep red mahogany, smooth to the touch, the scent of beeswax and turpentine, moving easily indeed silently on those great shiny oiled brass hinges, great big screw heads, polished 'til they gleam, just moving at the touch. I pull on her big brass knob backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, so silently, the gap getting wider then narrower, then wider showing me all of her oiled brass hinge, wider and narrower..." Malcolm had a far away look in his eyes and a bulge in his trousers.

Randolph leant back in his chair. "You like the door to your bedroom?"

"She squeaks. She's nothing like the big mahogany doors but she makes this little squeaking sound when I move her just a little bit. She can be shut and silent and then I pull on her handle, just a bit and she starts to open with this sexy little squeak.

"You use the word 'sexy'?"

"Yes, well I suppose it's the right word to me. I find it sexy. Turns me on anyway. This really is awfully embarrassing Mr. Trevais. I don't suppose your other clients talk about their sexual likes."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I have many clients with many, er, matters they need help with. So, are you happy with doors? Your mother doesn't like it."

"Better than being gay!"

"Maybe, maybe she'd think that. But it's you I'm interested in. How do you feel about your, er, predilection?"

"Doesn't worry me. But I suppose... can you really change how I think?"

"Oh well, you see hypnosis can be very powerful. More so with the right and willing subject. I can do more if you want to change."

"Dunno if I do. I've never taken much notice of girls and can't say it worries me if I don't. Could I like girls and doors?"

Randolph scratched his head. "Difficult. I'd rather redirect your interest from one to the other. A transfer of allegiance, as it were."

Malcolm was quiet for a time. He shrugged his shoulders, "Let's give it a go, then. What do you do, swing a pocket watch?"

"If you like," Randolph lent forward, "is that what you think I need?"

Malcolm answered but as he talked he found himself looking directly into Randolph Trevais' strange eyes, he found he really could not look away, his speech slowed and Randolph took over, talking in his smooth gentle voice. After a time he said, "I think you can sleep now Malcolm."

Malcolm slumped forward in his chair, eyes closed, motionless.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, Malcolm, and I would like you to answer them truthfully. You will do that won't you?"


"Do you remember my receptionist?"

"Yes, sort of."

"Is she pretty?"

"Suppose so."

"Nice legs."

"I don't know."

"Have you looked?"

"Not really."

"Has she a large bust?"

"Don't know"

"Would you like to find out?"


Randolph shrugged his shoulders. No, there was no sexual interest in girls at all with Malcolm. That was clearly confirmed.

"What's the door to this room like?"

"Quite nice. Victorian four panelled, moves easily, needs stripping down as it has too much paint built up to see the detail of the mouldings."

Randolph smiled. When he had thought Malcolm was looking at the receptionist he had been sizing up the door all along.

He pressed the intercom and called Louise in.

She looked puzzled at Malcolm sitting semi-slumped, with his eyes closed, in his chair.

"Is he... under?" She said in a slightly awed whisper.

"Yes," said Randolph normally, "I'm asking him some questions. Look up Malcolm and open your eyes."

Malcolm sat up and looked blankly across the room.

Louise looked startled.

"See Louise here? Now, is she pretty?"

Malcolm's eyes focused on the receptionist. "I suppose so".

"Nice legs?"

"I suppose so"

"What about her bust?"

"I suppose so."

Louise looked surprised and affronted.

"Thank you Louise." Looking puzzled she left.

"Malcolm. I want you to think about Louise. She is pretty. I want you to think of a door you like, a pretty door, and when you think of that door I want you to think of Louise as well. Can you do that?"

Randolph tried a few things like that but did not think a lot could be done that day: but at least he had made a start. He brought Malcolm back.

Malcolm looked worried and looked around at the door for reassurance.

"You won't feel any change. This is only the start of your therapy. Shall we go and see your mother?"

Randolph assured Malcolm's mother all would be well and arranged for another session.

He had barely settled back into his chair when Louise came in. "Mr. Trevais, I don't understand - what was all that about my legs and chest?"

Our client, Mr. Spandoz has a problem. I was asking questions under hypnosis. Questions can be rather personal. I needed to use you as an example. I really hope you don't mind."

Louise's body language revealed she did mind, quite a lot. "What sort of problem?"

"You understand client confidentiality. You must not tell anyone."

"Of course, but I'm not at all sure about this using me as an example."

"Well..." and Randolph explained.

Louise began to laugh. Randolph's stern face brought her up very quickly. "No, I suppose it's not funny for him, really, but imagine it - being attracted to doors!" She stifled another laugh. "How are we going to help him, Mr. Trevais?"

Randolph liked the "we" but not her attitude - it gave him an idea.

"I think we can bring him round, Louise, I think we can change the object of his desire."

"Really, Mr. Trevais, how will you do that?"

"Sit down, Louise, and I will explain."

"I need to get young Malcolm to look at women. That is why I was getting him to look at you, an attractive young women - if I may say so."

"No, I don't think you should."

"Really, why?" Randolph lent slightly forward across his desk and looked straight at Louise.

"It's personal and it's treating me differently, it's discriminatory. You wouldn't say that about a young man would you?"

Randolph, of course, thought to himself that he wouldn't because a young man was unlikely to be pretty, have attractive legs and a large bust, but instead he said, "No I suppose not. But you see Louise, what Malcolm does need is a pretty young girl to look at, to help me change the focus of his sexual desires." His voice was soft, smooth and gentle.

Louise found herself listening intently as she stared into his eyes, eyes of unusual colour and brightness, strangely unblinking. She listened to his soothing voice and felt safe, comfortable and reassured. She was very attentive.

"You wouldn't mind really if Malcolm looked at you, talked about you in a personal way. That wouldn't matter would it? It would be such a help to him. It will move him on. It wouldn't harm you at all. Such a small inconvenience at most. I don't think it would bother you at all would it? You want to help don't you?"

Louise found she did want to assist Mr. Trevais very much indeed in helping poor Malcolm. She wouldn't mind Malcolm looking at her as much as he needed to. What a problem to have!

Mrs. Spandoz brought Malcolm for his next consultation but he came into the consulting room on his own. Randolph was not surprised or disappointed when Malcolm seemed to take a careful interest in closing the door seemingly holding onto the brass handle more than was really necessary. He greeted Malcolm warmly, talked to him in his reassuring way whilst they drank coffee and ate biscuits before Randolph led him into a hypnotic trance. He called Louise in.

"You remember Louise, Malcolm, isn't she pretty, don't you think she is pretty but more than that isn't she just a little sexy. Girls are sexy, Malcolm, their skin is smooth just like your mahogany door, silky smooth to the touch. Touch her cheek, Malcolm, stroke the skin, isn't it smooth. It is smooth isn't it, Malcolm."

Louise was looking a little alarmed as Malcolm reached out and stroked her cheek with his hand, rather like one might do a cat, "Yes, smooth."

"But it's warm as well, yes?"


"We like warmth, Malcolm, but doors are cold. Doors are good, doors are smooth but girls are smooth and warm. Girls are better."

Louise nodded with understanding if not acceptance of the touch.

"Keep stroking Malcolm, isn't she warm? She's alive and warm. Louise is smooth like a door but warm and soft. We like soft. Her cheeks are soft. Her hair is soft. Stroke her hair Malcolm. See, that is soft. Doors are hard. Doors are good, doors are smooth but girls are smooth, warm and soft. Girls are better."

Malcolm's expression was vacant but he was doing what he was told. Randolph worked on despite Louise beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable.

"See her lips, they are warm and soft. Touch them with you finger."

Louise's eyes widened and her eyebrows went up as Malcolm touched a finger to her lips, feel how soft and warm they are but they can also be wet. Louise, please lick your lips."

Louise frowned but did as she was told, her tongue brushed Malcolm's finger.

See Malcolm, her lips are warm, soft and wet. Doors are smooth but girls are many other things. Girls are warm, girls are soft, and girls can be wet." A hint of a smile crossed Randolph's face. Louise's frown intensified. "Doors are good, doors are smooth but girls are smooth, warm, soft and wet. Girls have more than doors. Girls are better." He continued for some time.

When Malcolm had gone, he sat back in his chair and said to Louise, "I think this is going rather well. I think I am moving him. I'm rather pleased with myself really, I..."

"I don't think this is at all right. You had him touch me."

"Oh Louise, I am sorry, I did not think you would mind after our talk about Malcolm. It is necessary you see. We have to help Malcolm and change his focus. It's not just a matter of telling him. We have to show him, get him to really feel the change is right for him, and get him to experience it. Surely it was not too difficult letting him touch your hair, your face even your lips?" Once more Randolph's voice was soft and insistent, his strange eyes compelling. "You can do this, you don't mind really. You are pleased to help Malcolm. It is OK letting him touch your face, touch your hair and touch your lips. He'll need to kiss you next time. That won't matter to you either, will it? You do want to help Malcolm don't you?"

And Louise found she did, very much.

Mrs. Spandoz and Malcolm were a little late for the next consultation. Randolph was with Louise in the reception when they came in. He was pleased to see Malcolm's eyes linger a little on Louise as he came through the door. Randolph thought this looked suspiciously like progress.

Mrs. Spandoz was clearly not so encouraged. "He's put a new poster up in his room."

Randolph looked at Mrs. Spandoz expectantly. He was to be disappointed.

"A poster of the Georgian doors of Dublin. Lots of different painted doors, can you believe? Would look right in a dentist's reception room: but in a boy's bedroom?"

Louise stifled a giggle. Randolph shot a glance at her. Malcolm turned red. This was not going well.

It took quite a time, and quite a few chocolate biscuits to settle Malcolm down again in the consulting room.

"Well, I liked the poster. Some beautiful, wonderful doors. I liked the poster. I'm sure you would too. You're not having a lot of effect, Doc.!"

Once more Randolph took Malcolm deep into a trance and called Louise in. "Now Malcolm, have you been having a sexual experience with a door since we last met?"

"Sort of."

"Tell me about it."

"I was in the public library and between the main part, the lending library, and the reference section is a set of double doors. Grained big doors with acid etched glass in the upper panels. Great massive doors with closers. They resist you pushing through and then close of their own accord. Lovely brass hinges, three pairs - need polishing. I just loved pushing the doors open and watching them go back into place - close again. I stood there for about ten minutes just doing that. I almost came in my pants though I didn't touch myself - wanted to - but it's a public library of course!"

"So you masturbated when you got home? "

Oh yes, several times. I can't get those doors out of my mind. But I can't go and see them again."

"Why is that?"

"Got kicked out of the library and banned by the Librarian."

Louise giggled. Randolph frowned at her.

"You like doors don't you Malcolm?"

"Oh yes, pretty doors, naughty doors but particularly double doors, big double doors that move by themselves, close by themselves, of their own choice."

"But girls are good too aren't they?"

"Yes, girls are... yes, girls are smooth, warm, soft and wet."

"Yes, Malcolm, well done. Do you kiss doors?"


"But aren't they cold and hard?"

"Yes - but smooth and sexy."

"See Louise, her lips are smooth, warm, soft and wet. I want you to kiss her on the lips and feel how warm and soft they are, doors are cold, but there is much more to feel with a girl's lips than there is kissing a door."

Louise looked a bit startled as Malcolm got to his feet and touched his lips to hers.

"See they are warm and soft. Doors are hard, doors are good but girls are better. Kiss her again, feel your lips on hers, hold them there, feel how soft and warm they are. Brush her lips with your own, feel their warmth, feel their softness. Louise, lick your lips please. Kiss her again; feel her lips are not only soft but also wet. But now push your tongue through those soft lips; explore her mouth so very wet and warm; feel Louise's tongue against your own so much softer, so much more interesting than a cold door; see she moves - not like a cold responsive door. How can a door have feelings about you? See Louise likes you."

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