Disclaimer: All the usual rules apply: If you are under the legal age, offended by the concepts of either erotic hypnotism or male/male sexual activity, unable to distinguish between fiction (which this is) and reality (which this may never be construed to portray), or resident in some wretched community where such materials are forbidden to you regardless of your own preferences, then you do not have permission to read this; please go away. If, on the other hand, you have no legal or philosophical restraints, please enjoy. You have permission to read and/or download this story at any time you wish, provided you do not allow it to be seen by minors, nor re-post it anywhere without the author’s express consent.

My Wish Is Your Command



   Okay, admit it. You’ve thought about it, too: what you’d do if somehow you had those traditional three wishes from the djinni. What would they be? Riches? Power? Fame? Love? Something more exotic?

   I’ve thought about it a lot, ever since I was a kid and first read the Arabian Nights, sometimes just out of idle musing, sometimes out of frustration with the reality of things. My choices have changed since the first wild dreams of my pre-pubescent youth, but by the time I was in my twenties they’d gelled into a consistent, well-considered set (and I mean well-considered – even though it was only a fantasy game, you had to be very specific about wording, just as in a deal with the devil, to avoid loopholes that might allow the djinn to screw you over). My three wishes: perpetual perfect indestructible health – not so much as a nose-bleed or a sniffle, and, without any vulnerabilities, the potential to live forever (or until I might become too bored to want to continue); perpetual youth – I’d want to live forever as a twenty-one-year-old stud at my physical and sexual peak, not a doddering, decrepit old git; and, finally, perfect hypnotism.

   You weren’t expecting that last one, were you? Or maybe you were, this being an erotic mind-control site. I’m a hypno-fetishist. Even in my teens I’d learned how to put people into trance, and become very good at it. Over the years, I’ve had a number of good-looking guys meekly accepting my suggestions, and I’ve really gotten off on it (yes, I’m gay), but there’s always been the same problem and dissatisfaction. The bottom line with hypnosis is that you really can’t get your subjects to do just anything. Your suggestions have to be acceptable to their basic personality structure, or they simply don’t stick. And, no matter how good you are, not everyone is even capable of being hypnotized, so that hot boy you’re lusting after isn’t likely to be any more accessible to you through hypnotic trickery than he would be through the simple exercise of your personal charm, because of being too straight, too unhypnotizable, or both. Hence my final fantasy-wish: a power that would operate like hypnosis (because, as a fetishist, the trappings and ritual of the induction turn me on as much as the resulting control), but different from it in that it would work on anyone, susceptible or not, whether they resisted or cooperated, that once under my spell, they would be helpless to refuse any suggestions, no matter what they were, and that, if necessary, it could be invoked instantaneously (to handle those situations where I wanted or needed to take control of someone for whom there was no plausible pretext to try hypnosis). By the way, for you greedy types, this wish would also cover the bases for wealth and power, since I could persuade anyone else to want to give me whatever I might lack.

   So those are my three. And fantasy they remained, until the day, a few years ago, that my unit was searching the bombed-out ruins of a mosque near Baghdad looking for victims of a tragically misaimed air attack. There were no bodies to be found, either dead or alive, but while digging through the rubble I came across and old, battered oil lamp, just like the kind in the stories. Of course, I didn’t immediately rub it and sit back expectantly; it’s a fairy-tale, after all, and, as a rational adult, I wasn’t likely to abandon myself to make-believe in the middle of a war zone. I viewed it only as a curiosity. But there was something appealing about the object, a certain grace of proportion and design, so, without really thinking about it, I glanced around to make sure none of the other guys were watching me, and then stuffed it into my pack to examine later.

   That night I managed to find a quiet spot by myself (not all that easy to accomplish in the military) and took the lamp out for a closer look. It was made out of some kind of yellowish metal (brass maybe, certainly not gold) and very dirty. There seemed to be some kind of writing or engraving on it, but the grime made it indecipherable, so I whipped out my handkerchief and tried to polish it up a little to see if I could make out the markings any better. All hell broke loose! It felt like a tornado in the midst of an earthquake, although even in my panic I registered that no one else in the vicinity seemed to be shouting, screaming, or, frankly, taking the least notice. A huge plume of smoke erupted from the lamp causing me to drop it as if it were red hot. The cloud quickly coalesced into the figure of a slim, clean-shaven young man dressed in classic middle-eastern garb. I stared open-mouthed in awe. He was actually quite good-looking, I think, maybe even beautiful, but there was an ungraspable quality to his appearance that made me feel as though I couldn’t be absolutely sure of his skin color, hair color, or even his facial features. But his eyes were amazing. I’ve never seen eyes that deeply, vividly, fathomlessly black. They would have made the darkest ink ever manufactured look watery and thin, and they were locked on me so compellingly that I couldn’t move or look away. It felt as though the staring contest went on for hours, but finally the being spoke.

   “It would be polite to tell me your name, mortal” he said at last, his voice a cross between distant thunder and the sexiest actor you’ve ever imagined. I don’t know what language he was speaking – it wasn’t English or any of the modern Arabic languages we had been encouraged to try to pick up during our tour of duty – yet somehow I understood him perfectly.

   “J-J-Jake Pointer,” I stammered. “Are you the slave of the lamp?”

   He laughed merrily, “Not any longer; you freed me, mortal Jake Pointer.”

   My knees were shaking, but I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without at least trying to seize it. “But aren’t you supposed to grant me three wishes?”

   “What a quaint idea!” The djinn chuckled again. “Why on earth would I do that?”

   “W-well, out of gratitude, maybe? For setting you free? It’s what the legends all say.”

   “Hmmm… You may have a point, mortal. I do indeed owe you somewhat… but the granting of human wishes is a difficult and exhausting thing. I am afraid that, before I would consider undertaking such a task, you would need to find a way to make me feel a bit more grateful than I do at this moment.” His gaze became openly lascivious. “Surely you can think of something. I have been imprisoned long and long.” He began to exude a sexual magnetism so potent that I came in my pants, like some raw, green kid with no experience or self-control. My knees buckled and I went down, almost lunging for the djinn’s enormous erection that pulsed before my face as his clothing vanished in the blink of an eye. I was so unbelievably turned on that nothing else mattered but giving that magnificent cock the best and most thorough servicing I was capable of providing. I licked, I slobbered, I sucked, I nibbled, gulped, moaned and hummed. My hands offered devotion to every inch of his slim, firm body. He was hairless as a boy, although there was nothing in the least boyish about the massive, veined tool and heavy balls I was worshiping. His odor was like nothing human – exotic, spicy, subtle, and age-old as if from some primitive collective memory of the very genesis of sexual desire. Time ceased to have meaning; the blowjob I gave him could have lasted ten minutes or ten centuries. He finally released with a fierce shout of pleasure that could have shattered stones and filled me with a flood of cum that was all ice and fire. I felt it in every cell of my being, and suffered another orgasm of my own, so intense and all-encompassing that it passed pleasure, passed pain, passed almost into death.

   I knew no more until hours later I came to myself lying on the sand in the pre-dawn dark of the Iraqi desert. The djinn and the lamp were nowhere to be seen, yet as I pulled myself up to a sitting position I seemed to hear his voice, soft as a whisper, yet coming from everywhere in the wind and sky, filling my whole world, “You have pleased me, mortal Jake Pointer. You shall have your three wishes; my seed that is now a part of you shall power them. Perhaps, before the end of all things, you will see me again. Until that time, farewell.” I staggered back to camp and collapsed into my bunk.

   The next morning I awoke very early, convinced it must all have been a particularly bizarre and vivid dream, but as I looked in my shaving mirror, the face that looked back at me wasn’t the expected face of a tired, battle-weary thirty-five-year-old career soldier. It was the bright-eyed, optimistic, handsome (if I do say it) young face I hadn’t seen since I was in college. I almost dropped the mirror. I shut my eyes and shook my head to try to brush away the cobwebs, but when I looked again, that same twenty-one-year-old golden boy version of me returned my gaze. Not only that, but the scar on my cheek (from a close call with a piece of shrapnel the year before) was gone as if it had never been there, as were the blisters on my feet from the boots that had never quite fit properly, and the scratchy throat from breathing too much dust. Holy shit, it wasn’t a dream!! I had my three wishes!!

   Well, technically I only had two of them; I had yet to try out the third one, but I was feeling pretty confident about it. I quickly realized that the only way to test out the effectiveness of hypnotism would be to attempt the instantaneous version. As I mentioned before, I’m a very good hypnotist, so if I were to engage in any kind of normal induction, there would be no absolute certainty on my part that a trance thus created wasn’t simply the (fairly) predictable result of my applied skills. I’d scarcely finished that thought when Private Ben Stillwell came into the shower area. Perfect! Ben’s a recent arrival in Iraq from some place out in the Oklahoma boonies, enlisted right out of high school. He has a really cute boyish face and body, but he’s painfully, homophobically straight, and a religious fundamentalist to boot. Not only would he never in a million years, in any non-magical trance state, accept male/male suggestions, but, seeing as how his church views hypnotism as second cousin to black magic, he’d never willingly participate in a hypnotic experiment to begin with.

    Before anyone else could turn up, I acted. “Hey, Benny.” He looked over to me, a little startled to be addressed, especially since we were both still just in our skivvies. “Go into trance for me now,” I commanded, and snapped my fingers for emphasis. I had a momentary and rather odd sensation that I can only describe as a feeling of mentally pushing a wave of something (energy?) that contained the idea of hypnotic submission at him. Ben froze where he was, his facial expression and eyes going completely blank. It was exactly the sort of look that I have learned to associate with the best subjects under the deepest hypnosis. So this wish, too, was functioning as specified. My cock twitched with pleasure. “Come here, Ben.” Like a zombie, he shuffled forward to stand in front of me. “You’re deeply hypnotized, and you must do whatever I tell you to do… repeat that.”

   “I’m deeply hypnotized and I hafta do whatever you tell me to do.” The trance rendered his normally grating Okie twang charmingly soft and vague.

   “I’m going to count to three, and you’ll be totally, irresistibly horny. You’ll go straight into one of the latrine stalls and jack off, being careful to be very quiet. When you cum it’ll be the best orgasm you’ve ever had. You’ll catch your jizz in your hands and eat it all. When you do that, you’ll wake back up with no memory of having been hypnotized or of anything that has happened during your trance, but from that point on you’ll have a new understanding of your sex-drive. From that point on, only other guys will be sexually exciting to you. Not women, only guys. Do you understand all that?” Boy, power sure corrupts, and I found I had no qualms about the karmic payback I was unleashing on this intolerant little born-again prick!

   “Yes, sir.” There wasn’t a trace of hesitation or discomfort in his sleepy response. I counted to three, and he marched directly to the nearest stall, an erection already tenting his shorts. From behind the closed door, I could hear the unmistakable (although, as ordered, very soft) sounds of a boy pleasuring himself. I tiptoed away, and began to plan my orderly exit from the military to assume my new magically enhanced life.



    It’s amazing how complicated it can be to get out of the army early and then set up a satisfactorily buttressed life elsewhere. I needed to erase certain records of my old self, acquire enough money to live in the style to which I intended to become accustomed, and then create a persona in which my endless youth wouldn’t attract too much of the wrong kind of attention. It took nearly two years (not to mention an amount of covert hypnotism that even I found hard to believe) to accomplish it all, but finally the old Jake Pointer had been “killed in action”, and the new one was ensconced in a beautifully upgraded dorm suite (sure, I could easily afford better private digs, but this was where the boys were to be found) at _________ University, living off an ample trust fund, and playing the perpetual undergrad whom none of the faculty or fellow students would notice wasn’t graduating. Work-time over; play-time!

  My first victim was the dorm Resident Advisor. After all, if I was going to have hypnotized boys in and out of my rooms at all hours, I didn’t want him interfering. Besides, he’s hot. He’s a grad student, of course (all the RAs are), and his name is Berto (for Roberto) Diaz. He’s that kind of smooth Hispanic hunk that just takes your breath away: black, black hair, dark romantic eyes, gorgeous, flawless honey and olive complexion, slim, tight body, and a face that’s movie-star handsome (think Jesse Metcalfe).

   It turned out to be easier to arrange than I could have hoped. I’d thought I might need to sneak up on him and do yet another of my instant whammies, but I didn’t really want to. I’d been doing almost nothing else but for two years, and I was really missing the actual experience of hypnotizing and of watching a guy as he slowly went under. As it happened, though, when I was moving in and the obvious signs of wealth evidenced by the quality of my possessions made it clear I was someone to be reckoned with, he came up to introduce himself and we got to talking. I mentioned that I was a psych major and that I specialized in hypnotism, and Berto was immediately interested.

   “I always wanted to know what that was like. Maybe sometime you could put on a little show for the floor,” he suggested.

  “No thanks. I’m not so good at group inductions, and I’m not all that comfortable with comedy shtick,” I lied pleasantly, “But if you really are curious, you could drop by my room sometime. I’d be happy to give you a sample experience in private.”

   He jumped on it right away. “What about tonight?” he asked eagerly. “I don’t have anything else planned, and after school gets going things will be a lot crazier and it might be harder to find a chance.”

   I pretended to consider for a moment and then said, “Sure, that’d be okay. Just give me some time to finish unpacking and grab a bite to eat. Seven o’clock work for you?”

   “Perfect! I’ll see you then.” We shook hands and went our separate ways (but not before I managed a surreptitious glance at his neat little ass in his tight jeans as he walked away – that’s another thing I love about Latin guys; they understand that people like to look, and that potential sex-partners, men or women, are not going to be lured by shapeless, baggy concealment clothes, so when they’ve got it, they flaunt it).

   Promptly at seven there was a soft rap on my door and I opened it to find a smiling Berto waiting. He was still wearing the tight jeans, but he’d exchanged his RA’s “meet & greet” sport jacket and button-down shirt for a black t-shirt that was practically spray-painted onto his sexy torso. I began to wonder if he might actually be gay. I mean, really, do straight guys, even Latinos, ever dress like that except in MTV videos? Schooling my eyeballs not to jump out of their sockets, I invited him in.

   As he took in my newly accessorized dorm suite, Berto let out a low, impressed whistle. “Man, you know how to live! I bet rock stars don’t have it any better than this!”

   I chuckled and launched into my current cover story. “Grandpa was very good at making money, and I have enough of it that I don’t have to live like a student just because I am one.” We shot the shit a little longer and then I said, “So, you want to find out what being hypnotized feels like.”

   “Yeah.” Now that it came down to it, although he still sounded eager, he also sounded just a little nervous. “What do I need to do?”

   “Not much. You just need to follow my directions the best you can, relax, and let things happen as they happen. Why don’t you sit here?” I ushered him to a comfortable recliner (I’d made damn-sure I had one of those, for obvious reasons). Berto settled into it somewhat gingerly, but then ergonomic design and buttery-soft leather upholstery began to work their own brand of magic and he started to look more at ease. On my instructions, he tilted the recliner back so that his head was supported by the padding.

   “Okay, Berto, go ahead and close your eyes.” He did so, and I began a pretty standard version of progressive relaxation. There was, of course, no doubt about the outcome thanks to my wish-enhanced powers, but it felt comfortingly (and arousingly) familiar to go through the well-rehearsed routine of well-rehearsed phrases and to watch the gradual slackening of his facial features as he descended into trance. Soon enough he was completely under my control, one hand floating effortlessly in the air while the rest of his sexy body appeared to be melting into the chair in which he slumped. With the appropriate suggestions I lowered his arm back into his lap, making sure that the limp fingers were snuggled into the mound at his crotch. “Berto,” I commanded, “You hear nothing but the sound of my voice, which you will obey instantly without thought, question, or resistance. You can’t leave this trance until I awaken you. Stand up. You may open your eyes if you wish.” His eyelids fluttered to half-mast, and I helped him to his feet. Then I began to shed my clothing. “Take off your shirt, Berto.” Sleepily he peeled the t over his head and cast it aside, revealing an absolutely gorgeous torso. He was virtually hairless except for his armpits, whether by design or from genetics I couldn’t tell, and the glorious skin tones I’d admired in his face continued unblemished over the rest of his satiny skin. The dark denim of his jeans still stretched over his crotch bulge, trim ass, and shapely, muscular legs looked even sexier by contrast. “You must always answer me truthfully. Are you gay?”

   “No.” His voice was dreamy and small.

   “Have you ever had any kind of sexual experience with another guy?”

   “No.” Well, I guess he must be from MTV then!

   “Being hypnotized is the sexiest feeling you’ve ever had, Berto. You’re getting very turned on. Lie down on my bed and play with your body… but don’t take off your jeans yet, and don’t cum until I tell you to.” The mound of his sex began to tent outward. He drifted to the bed, already beginning to fondle his own ass and then fell forward onto the mattress and began a slow passionate exploration of himself. His eyes closed again. I was naked by this time and joined him immediately, kissing and licking his exposed flesh, sucking and chewing the denim at his fly, and reveling in the fact that this mind-fucked straight-boy couldn’t stop me.

   I was getting hot enough now that I wanted more than just the rub. I unbuckled his heavy black leather belt, undid his fly and began to pull his jeans down. Well, well, well... the little tomcat wasn’t wearing underwear. Since he wasn’t, by his own hypnotically truthful admission, gay, that wasn’t for this occasion, but must be his normal habit. I continued to pull on the tight denim until I could get it off of him (not altogether easy, as tight as the pants fit) and then sat back on my heels to admire the total Berto. Man, he was a beauty! And so beautifully, perfectly, hypnotically helpless!

   Now that his dick was available to him, my handsome Latino hypno-stud had begun to masturbate. I wasn’t concerned, because I’d already told him he couldn’t cum without my order. I suited up my throbbing hard-on (oh, I know I can no longer catch anything, but I wasn’t certain whether that meant I also couldn’t pass anything along, and I still have enough conscience to want to protect my toys in their helplessness) and then lubed liberally. “Berto,” I commanded, “I’m going to snap my fingers, and when I do you will realize that the thing you most want now, that you’ve always wanted, is to find out how it feels to be fucked, to have a man’s dick in your ass.” I snapped my fingers (and it took several tries to make the sound; I’d forgotten that I was greasy with KY). “Now you will tell me what you want.”

   “I want to find out how it feels to be fucked.” He didn’t place any particular emphasis on the statement as his soft mesmerized voice caressed the words.

   “Slide down on the bed so that your ass is at the edge,” I ordered him, and as he obeyed, I positioned myself between his legs. “You will feel only the most intense pleasure as I slide my cock in and out of your ass; nothing else, only pleasure.” Then I lifted his legs to my shoulders, took possession of his hole and began to fuck in earnest as he gasped with mindless delight and masturbated even harder. His boy-pussy was as sweet and tight as any I’ve ever had, and, what with all of the “business” I’d had to be dealing with, I hadn’t had a good piece of ass in some while, so I was able to milk the moment only for so long before I lost it and came in buckets.

   After I withdrew and disposed of the condom, I returned to Berto, who was still jerking off with hypnotized enthusiasm. “You can cum now, Berto, and it’ll send you even deeper into the hypnotic spell.” With a delightful little whimper he shot his load all over his chest and then lay there breathing deeply, his arms fallen back limply to his sides. “That’s very good, Berto… deeper and deeper asleep… deeper with every breath… deeper and deeper…” I began to finger-paint with his cum, massaging it into that expanse of flawless skin, until his entire stomach, chest, throat, even his lips and cheeks, were glistening as though they’d been shellacked.

   As he dried and the gloss faded (but not the scent) I continued to deepen and condition his trance. Then, when he wouldn’t ruin his clothing, I got him dressed again, ordered him back into the chair where he’d been at the start, and prepared to reawaken him. “You are convinced that this was the best sex you’ve ever had, aren’t you?”

   “Yes, Jake,” he piped obediently (and, of course, in that instant it became true for him).

   “But in a moment, when I wake you back up, you won’t have the least memory of it, will you?”

   “No, I won’t remember it.” He sounded a little sad about that.

   “And you won’t notice any of the sex smell in the room. You’ll only know that I did manage to hypnotize you, but you’ll know nothing whatsoever about anything that happened while you were in my power… no memory of that at all. However, you will unconsciously associate all your good feelings about great sex with my hypnotizing you. You’ll be happy to accommodate me any time I want to put you under again, and you’ll be enthusiastic about talking the experience up with other guys and telling them how much you enjoyed it, how great it made you feel. It will always seem perfectly fine to you that I have guys coming to my room to be hypnotized, no matter who, no matter when. Got all that?”

   “I understand, Jake.”

   “Good. Then at the count of three you’ll be wide awake, feeling absolutely terrific. Before you leave this room, you’ll give me one deep, passionate tongue-kiss, and it will seem perfectly normal and appropriate to you to do so. But as soon as I’m out of your arms again, you’ll lose all memory of that kiss, just as you’ve lost the other memories I’ve commanded you to forget. One… two… three! Wide awake, Berto!”

   He blinked, and then his face broke into a delighted grin. “I feel fuckin’ amazing! What did you make me do while I was under? It musta been great to make me feel this good.” He got up from the chair and began to pace excitedly. “C’mon. What’d I do? You have to tell me!”

   Stifling my internal giggles, I sketched out a short, totally bogus series of harmless hypnotic events for him to imagine he’d experienced.

   “That was it?! But I feel so awesome!”

   “Berto, you feel great because, when I woke you up, I gave you a suggestion to feel really good.”

   “Wow! And that’s all it takes? Man, I sure as hell hope you’ll do me again some time, Jake!”

   “Of course I’d be happy to.”

   Berto let out a whoop of delight and pulled me into a guy-hug. But as I looked into his face, a cloud of confusion passed across his eyes, and he seemed to have forgotten that the hug was going on a lot longer than two straight guys would normally hold it. His gaze shifted to focus on my mouth and grew dreamily romantic. Then his arms began to exert a stronger pull. Our lips drew closer and closer, touched, opened, and then our tongues were dueling in as deep and hot a kiss as I’ve ever been privileged to receive. And as a further turn-on, I could smell the lingering scent of his cum (even if he couldn’t) where it had dried under his nose and now mine. Let me tell you, Berto is one great kisser! Oh, yeah, I knew I would definitely be (in his own naively accurate words) “doing” him again.

   When he finally turned me loose, I had to sit down because my knees were feeling weak. But as I left his embrace, I saw that same shadow of blank confusion cross his face again as the memory of kissing me vanished from his awareness. Then his smile returned, once again the uncomplicated, happy expression of a boy who just feels good without any burden of introspection into the cause. After another effusive round of thanks, he left to go back to his room and I fell into bed for the best night’s sleep I’d had in months.



   “Oh come on! You know it’s just a fake! Nobody really gets hypnotized… they just like to show off for the attention!” Trent Montgomery, after hearing Berto extolling the virtues of being hypnotized (as he was post-hypnotically programmed to do), was asserting himself to the guys lounging around the common room. He’s the dormitory’s resident “lion” (due to his starting position on the varsity baseball team), champion chick-magnet (he’s handsome, sexy, and rock-star flashy), and asshole (because he’s so full of himself).

   “No it is not fake! And Jake here’s really good at it. And it feels amazing!” Berto’s impassioned rebuttal was my cue.

   “Dude,” I said to Trent (with just a hint of taunting), “He’s right. Hypnotism isn’t fake, and unless you’re afraid of finding out you’re wrong, I’ll be happy to prove it to you personally some time.” I had him where I wanted him, because I knew his macho ego wouldn’t let him back down with his posse looking on.

   The cocky baseball star looked me up and down and then said (predictably), “Bring it, loser.”

   I laughed out loud. “I’m not going to try to hypnotize you here in a room full of people! Even if you were a believer, you’d probably have a hard time entering trance with this much distraction around you.” (Not true, of course, with my magical advantage, but I didn’t want a large audience for the kind of suggestions I planned to plant on this unsuspecting stud once I had him in my power.) “I’m willing to bet you a hundred bucks that within a half-hour I’ll have you clucking like a chicken before these fine people. But you’ll have to go somewhere quieter with me first.”

   “How do I know you won’t try to drug me instead? I know hypnotism is a crock, but I don’t have any problem believing Rohypnol is real!”

   “Dude,” I sneered, “if you’re worried about your ‘virtue’, you can bring along a chaperone to make sure I don’t take advantage of you. I just don’t want a dozen guys crowding around ruining your ability to concentrate.” I knew I could handle one onlooker the easy way, by simply putting him into trance, too and then making him forget anything I wanted to keep private.

   Trent doesn’t take teasing well, and he looked as though he’d like to hit me, but after considering a moment he just growled, “Make it two hundred and you’re on.” He looked over at the other assembled boys and jerked his chin at one of them. “Joey, you come with us and watch my back.”

    Well now, that was a bonus! Joey Anderson is kind of preppy and a little too buttoned-down personality-wise, but he is major cute, with neat, dark-brown hair, pretty gray eyes, a mischievous-little-boy kind of face, and a small, but absolutely perfect tight little body. He’s definitely the most fuckable of Trent’s buddies, and I had planned on getting around to him at some point anyway. I revised my game plan a bit. “Done,” I said. “We’ll be back in about twenty minutes guys.” And then I led the two up to my room.



   “Trent, you sit here,” I said, indicating the recliner. “Joey, you can sit wherever you want to observe.”

    Joey promptly sat down on the edge of my bed, but Trent took his time before complying and then said, in a snotty voice, “Okay, so what’s next.”

    “What’s next is that I want you to relax your muscles and look at this.” I held up the shiny pocket-watch that I’d taken from my desk drawer. (Okay, I agree it’s pretty hokey, and it wouldn’t work worth a damn for a non-magical hypnotist unless the subject was already absolutely convinced that it would, but I was really looking forward to taking down this arrogant jock, and this was the most blatant, demeaning version of stereotypical hypnosis I could think of.)

    As soon as he caught sight of it, Trent began to splutter, and he soon gave way to helpless, side-shaking guffaws. When he’d calmed himself somewhat he gasped, “You’ve got to kidding,” sounding a good deal more human and spontaneous than he usually did.

   I smiled blandly, holding the watch up as if for his closer inspection, and allowing it to begin to twist and sway, sending out flashes of reflected lamplight. “Oh, I know you’re thinking this shiny watch is too b-movie to be taken seriously, Trent, and in a sense you’re right, but it’s a funny thing about shiny objects swinging back and forth…” my voice subtly began to smooth and soften into the hypnotist’s monotone, “They do catch and focus your attention, and that’s the real purpose… when your attention is focused, it’s much easier to relax… you’re not moving much… your not really thinking of anything accept the watch as it swings back and forth… back and forth… and it becomes so natural and easy just to look at it and relax and not pay attention to anything else… to see only the shiny watch as it goes back and forth… back and forth… so easy… so regular… so soothing… as you relax more and more… back and forth… back and forth… until there’s nothing but the watch and my voice… the watch… back and forth… back and forth… and my voice… and you begin to notice how heavy your eyes are becoming from staring at the shiny watch… from being so-o-o relaxed… so heavy now… back and forth… back and forth… so sleepy… almost impossible to hold those heavy eyes open… impossible to keep thinking… just watching the watch go back and forth… listening to my voice… sleepier and sleepier… and you just have to give in to it… give in to sleep… give in to my voice… so tired you can’t help yourself…” Trent, by this time was staring slack-jawed at the watch, his eyes swollen and nearly shut. “You have to give in and sleep, don’t you?”

    “Uh-huh.” Trent sounded as innocently solemn as a little kid promising to be good on Christmas Eve.

   “That’s right, Trent… you have to give in and sleep... close those heavy, heavy eyes… give up thought… give up resistance… give up all your will… and sleep… deeper and deeper and deeper… with every breath… with every sound… with every beat of your heart… deeper and deeper… and now you completely hypnotized… nothing can reach you but my voice… nothing can disturb you… nothing can wake you until I wake you… and you will obey any order I give you… you will obey… you will obey.”

   By this point, Trent was slumped helplessly in the chair. His eyes were closed, his head had fallen forward, and his mouth had fallen open slightly. It was patently obvious to me, to Joey, and (if he hadn’t been too out-of-it to register) Trent as well, that I’d won the bet and that the cocky jock was in for it.

   “Trent,” I said commandingly, “I want you to repeat the words ‘I’m Jake’s hypnotized tool”. Say that.”

   “I’m Jake’s hypnotized tool.”


   “I’m Jake’s hypnotized tool.”

   “Keep repeating it. With every repetition it just becomes more and more true and real to you.”

   “I’m Jake’s hypnotized tool. I’m Jake’s hypnotized tool. I’m a…”

As the spellbound jock droned on, I was at last free to turn my attentions to his buddy. Joey was still seated on the edge of my bed. He looked both fascinated and extremely uneasy. When he realized I was now looking at him he smiled sheepishly. “Well, I guess you made you point. He sure seems to have been hypnotized all right.”

   “Oh yes, he’s very hypnotized, Joey.” I let the watch dangle in his sight-line as though I’d forgotten about it, while I continued, “You can hear him say it himself: hypnotized… interesting word… hypnotized… hypnotized…” I began to adjust the rhythm of my speech to echo Trent’s mindless drone. “It has a kind of rhythm to it… hypnotized… hypnotized… regular… predictable… inevitable… Joey, did you know that people can… go into trance, Joey, just listening to that word… to me talking about hypnotized… hypnotized…”

   Joey was starting to zone out, but suddenly he flinched violently as though waking from a nightmare of falling. “Y-you’re trying to hypnotize me! I’m not the one who’s supposed to get hypnotized. I don’t want to be hypnotized!” He struggled to coax his sluggish body to stand and then tried to stagger to the door.

   “But Joey,” I said calmly, “You are being hypnotized… hypnotized… hypnotized… you don’t have a choice… you’re already caught in the sleepy rhythm of your friend’s voice… hypnotized… hypnotized… of my voice… hypnotized… hypnotized… your legs walk you to bed and you sit down… you can’t move… you can’t resist… you are going into a deep, deep trance… helpless... hypnotized… no thoughts or will of your own… hypnotized… hypnotized… and sleep!”

   Joey had returned to his place on the bed where he now sat, immobile as a statue, eyes closed, completely entranced.

   I quieted Trent and then said, “Joey, Trent, do you hear me and obey?”

   “Yes.” Both enslaved boys answered almost as one.

   As tempted as I might be to take immediate advantage, I still had my eye on the clock, since we all had a bet to decide. The fun and games would have to come later. “Trent, Joey, this is what will happen…”



   The three of us trooped back into the common room, Trent in the lead. “I told you all it was nothing but bullshit,” he crowed. “Pay up, Jakey boy.”

   Joey gaped at him in astonishment. “Trent, buddy, it wasn’t bullshit! You were out like a light! I watched him put you straight to sleep.”

   “No way. I knew what was happening all the time. I just played along.”

   I interrupted the dialog, “If you were just pretending, then, of course you’d never follow any post-hypnotic suggestions, would you? Not even if I were to say ‘show-time’?” I clapped my hands for emphasis.

   Instantly Trent came to rigid attention, his face blank as any department store dummy’s. “I’m Jake’s hypnotized tool,” he chanted solemnly and then began to produce some very realistic chicken noises. The guys cracked up. Jimmy Ledbetter was laughing so hard he fell off the couch and rolled on the floor clutching his stomach.

   I snapped my fingers and Trent came to himself again. He stared bewildered at his howling dorm-mates. “What the hell?? Why are they all laughing like that?” He turned to me. “Did you hypnotize them?” he asked incredulously, which set the guys off on another wave of hysterics.

   I simply said, “Remember.” Of course, this was carefully orchestrated, because he’d only remember on that cue what I’d told him to remember. Everything else planted deep in his helpless subconscious would stay that way, including his instructions for later that night. But he remembered what he’d just been doing. Trent turned the deepest red I think I’ve ever seen a guy turn. I have to give him credit, though. He accepted his defeat pretty gracefully, even managing a half-hearted, rueful laugh himself, and he paid up on the bet without a murmur. The conversation continued animatedly for some time, but eventually the guys got tired of it and started to drift back to their rooms to study or go to bed. And that was when the real post-hypnotic suggestions began to kick in.



   It was a bit past eleven, and the dorm had begun to quiet down some (not that the guys were all asleep by any means, but they’d mostly settled into their rooms and weren’t constantly roaming the halls) when there was a soft knock on my door. I opened it to find Trent standing there, looking confused. “Jake,” he said apologetically, “Sorry to bother you. I don’t know why, but I feel like we have to talk. Can I come in?” Well, since he was there on my post-hypnotic orders even though he didn’t realize it, of course I nodded him in. He made a bee-line to the recliner in which I’d hypnotized him. “I feel really strange. I can’t concentrate, and I can’t seem to stop thinking about what happened to me tonight. I… uh… I need… I don’t know what I need. What the hell’s wrong with me?” His bewildered eyes stared into mine almost pleading for reassurance.

   “There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said soothingly. “Being under hypnosis feels so good that I’m sure you just want me to hypnotize you again. That’s right, isn’t it. You want to be hypnotized again.” I didn’t make it a question, and his suggestible mind didn’t take it as one.

   “Y-yes… I… I want to be hypnotized again.” The tranced quality was already creeping back into his voice just from considering it.

   “Well that’s fine with me. But we have to wait for Joey. He’ll want to be here for that. You want to wait for him, don’t you.” Again, it wasn’t a question.

   “Yeah… wait… gotta wait for Joey…” The jock’s stare was growing more fixed by the moment. Accepting even these simple non-hypnotic suggestions was resonating with his recent trance to create a very suggestible state of mind.

   We settled down to wait, but scarcely two more minutes went by before another soft knock announced the arrival of young Mr. Anderson, also post-hypnotically drawn to my door. He too looked as though he wasn’t sure why he was here, but I took his arm and pulled him into the room before he could voice his concerns. “Glad you’re here, Joey,” I smiled, “Trent wants to be put under again, and he needs you to watch.” Poor, uptight Joey was so desperate to find an excuse to avoid recognizing that he was acting without a valid conscious reason that he relaxed immediately, as if my explanation, nonsensical though it was, really were the reason he’d returned to my room. He walked over to the bed and sat down in a virtual replay of the previous session.

   “I’m going to try something different this time, Trent” I said. “Come over here and sit at my desk.” He rose from the recliner a little sluggishly, but managed to make his way to the chair I’d indicated, the one facing my extra-large computer monitor. I moved the mouse and the screen filled with the vivid spinning hypno-spiral I’d loaded there in preparation for this. It claimed his attention instantly, his eyes already beginning to lock onto the ever-receding center. “I want you to keep looking into the spiral and to begin to relax all of your muscles.”

   I motioned silently to Joey to come over and stand behind Trent’s chair. “Joey,” I said very softly so that only he would hear, “Start to rub Trent’s temples, please. It’s a hypnogenic nerve-point, and it’ll help him go deeper.” He moved forward and began to do as I’d asked, but of course this meant that he too was now facing the spiral at nearly as close a view as his friend, and, as I’d intended, his eyes didn’t remain free from it for long. Within a couple of heartbeats he was staring at the whirlpool of color every bit as raptly as the jock whose temples he was mechanically caressing. I began my hypnotic spiel, ostensibly for the baseball hero, but carefully avoiding the use of his name in it. Soon both young men had forgotten everything but the spiral. Their mesmerized gazes were locked on it, they had both accepted totally the suggestion that they were floating into the center and away from all conscious awareness, and were on a direct flight to la-la-land. I moved behind Joey, ready to catch him, and spoke, almost directly into his ear, “Close your eyes and sleep deeply.” Trent slumped in his seat, as limp as if he’d been cold-cocked, and Joey collapsed bonelessly into my waiting arms. Fortunately the preppie is small and fairly light even as a dead weight. I was able to maneuver him into the recliner without too much effort, and his tight, trim little body felt delicious as I man-handled it. I stood back for a moment to admire both helplessly enslaved young men and then began to amuse myself.

   “Trent, Joey, you are ready to obey whatever I say, to think whatever I tell you, to be whatever I command. I am your master. Say it.”

   “You are my master,” my two mind-fucked slaves chanted in unison.

   “We are all going to have wonderful sex together tonight, and so you both need to get undressed and to get yourselves hard. Just make sure you don’t cum until I tell you to.” Trent immediately whipped his t-shirt off over his head and began to undo his belt and fly. Joey, on the other hand, had pulled his t-shirt partway up, but then seemed to get distracted by his body, and began caressing his stomach and playing with his tits. “Freeze,” I ordered, and instantly they were still as statues. God, they looked hot! Trent, of course, has a flawless athlete’s torso, with a little chest hair, and a really nice treasure trail. Joey is almost totally smooth, but his body is even more amazing than I had realized. I wonder if he’s gone in for gymnastics or diving at some time in his life. His muscles aren’t big and bulging, but everything I could see was in perfect proportion, and ripped. I got my digital camera for a couple of pictures, in the meantime reminding them of how much every single thing they were experiencing was deepening their trances. After I’d finished commemorating this step of the event I unfroze them and they continued to strip and stimulate themselves while I happily played paparazzo. Heck, at some point I may even decide to sell the pictures. They came out great, and I can always persuade the boys that it was their own idea to have them taken (grin).

   Soon both of my helpless victims were naked and sporting their utmost in erections. (And Joey’s was a lot bigger than a guy that compact ought to be able to provide. I was half surprised that he was able to remain functional when the blood rushed to fill it.) I put away the camera, got rid of my own clothes and began to get down to business. Thanks to the extra power of magical hypnotism, neither boy’s sexual orientation would make any difference to the outcome of this night’s activities, but still, I like to know who I’m dealing with. I knew, from wide report, that Trent was totally, relentlessly heterosexual (in point of fact, not only would he screw almost anything in skirts, but rumor had it that, in most cases, he already had), so there was no need to ask him, but Joey, on the other hand was rather a cipher, sexually speaking. In the brief time I’d been living in the dorms, I had yet to see him with anyone of either gender in the sort of interaction that might indicate his preference. He didn’t seem to date, he didn’t seem to flirt, he didn’t seem to have the kind of telephone or texting addiction that would have suggested an absent girl- or boyfriend. Mostly when he wasn’t in class, he just hung out in Trent’s posse, or stayed in his room or at the library studying. “Joey,” I said, “Tell me, if you could have sex with anyone in the world, who would it be? You have to be absolutely truthful to me and to yourself.”

   He didn’t even pause to consider, “Trent Montgomery,” he smiled dreamily.

   Oho, so he is gay. “Then, you what most want is for Trent to be your lover, to fuck you?”

   “No. I want to fuck him. I’m strictly a top.”

   Wow! No wonder the mighty-mite didn’t have much of a sex-life! Everything about him would scream “bottom” to nearly any gay man, so he’d constantly be at cross purposes with most guys who’d be interested in checking him out. And then to fixate on one of the most hetero dudes on the planet… talk about the impossible dream. But it wasn’t so impossible now, as I considered it. And since Trent is such an egotistical bastard, the idea of him secretly being someone else’s submissive butt-boy, at least part of the time, had a perverse appeal. To get this right however, I needed a clearer head than I had right at that moment (Joey isn’t the only one whose cock demands a good percentage of his operant blood flow – an extra perk that the djinn apparently threw in just “pour lagniappe”).

    I made both of them kneel down side by side and then presented my rigid cock, commanding them to take turns licking and sucking it until they got me off. Joey had obviously done this before and was well-skilled, but Trent, for a gay-sex novice, was also surprisingly good at it. Certainly, he would never have had prior experience doing it, but earlier on he had been using his tongue a lot, wherever it could reach, on himself as he was undressing and getting it up. I guess he’s just very oral (and also, he’s probably received a lot of head). The whole thing was down and dirty, and over quicker than I’d originally planned, but highly satisfactory nonetheless. I came hard, showering it over both of their unresisting faces. What can I say? I love bukake, and giving helpless boys facials is my way of marking my territory; my smell and my taste that go with them when I release them from the spell. While I waited for my breathing to steady and my mind to stop spinning from pleasure, I massaged the sticky spatters lovingly into their skin. Pure tactile joy!

   After I felt able to focus sufficiently I went to work on this newest project. In less than twenty minutes of very carefully worded hypnotic strong-arming, Joey was happily humping away in the ass of a docile and extremely grateful Trent, who was moaning like a cheap whore. I hadn’t completely changed Trent’s sexual orientation. For one thing, he’s such a force of nature where girls are concerned, that I was almost afraid the world would start to turn backwards on its axis if I removed him from the breeding game altogether. No, most of the time, and always when in public, Trent will still be the hetero’s heterosexual. He’ll still chase, seduce, and have sex with lots of women just as he always has. But he’ll now permanently have this one little kink; that he won’t be able to refuse anything where Joey’s concerned. And Joey, for his part, is programmed not to embarrass or interfere with Trent in public, or to be jealous of the women in his life. But in private, he’ll know he can use Trent to be his obedient slave and cum-dump whenever he wants him. Just a quiet word or phone-call, and butt-boy Montgomery will be compelled to come crawling to his young master.

    Things were coming to a climax on the bed, so I stuck a moistened finger into Joey’s flexing butt-hole and commanded, “You will cum now, Joey, and claim his ass.”

    With a gasped, “Take it, bitch,” the hypnotized boy began to pump out his load (into his condom, not Trent’s ass – I had no idea what either of them, but particularly the promiscuous jock, might unintentionally have brought with him to the party). Trent, whose cock had been grinding into the bedspread all the while his butt was being skewered, came at virtually the same instant, making a huge mess of the bedding. Oh well, it would dry, and I do like the smell – at least until I have time to do some laundry.

    I performed my standard mental clean-up on them. They wouldn’t remember anything about what happened while in trance, and their new sex-roles would seem to them to be something they’ve always known. Also, just like Berto, they’ll both now be enthusiastic converts to the hypnotism cult, advertising its pleasures and benefits any time the subject can come up.

   I sent them back to their own rooms and fell into my bed (remembering only at the last moment to miss the wet spot). As I drifted off to sleep, I was already planning future adventures. Perhaps I’ll teach young Joey to be versatile; or maybe I’ll get Berto to do it. Hmmm…

   And I didn’t think once about lamps, djinni or, extra wishes. I already had everything I could want.