The true, devastating secret of a creature's climax isn’t just the staggering volume or the potent seed meant to trigger conception. It’s the complex biochemical cocktail that comprises it, a powerful agent of neural rewiring capable of turning any person into a cum-dumb puddle. Its delivery is as efficient as it is intimate. The compounds are not absorbed through the stomach or bloodstream in any significant way; they require the dense network of sensitive membranes in the rectal tissue for immediate, direct assimilation. Upon deposition, the effect is not gradual. It is a violent, instantaneous smash-and-grab on the higher functions of the brain. Within seconds of contact, the primary neuro-toxins cross the membrane barrier. They don't just flood the system; they ambush it. The prefrontal cortex, the seat of complex thought, executive function, and personal identity, is forcibly quieted. Resistance is not merely futile; it becomes an impossible concept. The result is a state of pure, unadulterated being. The subject’s mind goes blank, wiped clean of worry, ambition, or complex thought, replaced by a radiant, simple warmth. A wide, dopey grin stretches across their face, utterly involuntary, a physical manifestation of the blissful emptiness within. Coherent speech becomes impossible, replaced by soft, breathy giggles and happy, nonsensical murmurs. This peak state of docile giggliness is potent but relatively short-lived. After roughly an hour, the cocktail’s function undergoes a deliberate, seamless transition. The euphoric, mind-breaking agents begin to break down, their work complete, and are replaced by powerful sedative and bonding compounds. The giggly high recedes like a tide, leaving behind a profound and heavy drowsiness. The body becomes limp, pliant, and deeply cuddly, seeking the warmth and security of its partner. This comedown state is one of utter contentment and peace, a silent, sleepy affirmation that all is right in the world, paving the way for a deep, dreamless sleep and a soothing afterglow that repairs physical strain. However, with each exposure, a little of the cognitive fog remains, a semi-permanent residue of the blissful oblivion, making the return to a complex, human world just that much more difficult. The cum also causes the target to forget the details of the experience, not remembering the helplessness of losing their ability to think, just the warmth and happiness, often leading to prey becoming addicted to getting fucked by a hellhound, not realizing that they're pushing themselves further into being a cum-dumb mess permanently.