The following story is FICTION (as if anything like this could happen)! It contains sex between males, and mind control. All characters are eighteen or over, but if you are not, or if such topics are distasteful to you, please stop reading! Also, if your “community standards” are so oppressive that freedom of speech is restricted, go elsewhere; don’t continue here.

That Old Black Magic

By Hyptrance

My name is Louis Delafont. I am an eighteen-year-old high school student at a well-known (no need to mention names) New England prep school. If you couldn’t already guess from the name, my family is French; old, old French – beaucoup de money from plantations in the West Indies for over three centuries, and New Orleans real estate for the past one. I only mention this so that you can understand how this story came about. I’m a good-looking kid, if I do say it myself – dark, wavy hair; dark eyes with eyelashes forever; and my bod isn’t bad either. (I have plenty of the right muscles, even if no one will ever mistake me for a gym-clone.) Just imagine the guy on Popular (the one who plays Harrison), and you have a pretty good picture of me.

I’ve never been particularly blatant about my sexual orientation, but then, neither have I tried to hide it. There aren’t any tragically misled girls breaking their hearts over me, but there aren’t any boys either (sigh). Or, at least there weren’t any boys until this year, and thereby hangs the tale. Halfway through last year at school I got a new roommate, Tommy Callaghan. Tommy is as handsome as it is possible for a guy to be, without it being illegal. He is tanned and toned to perfection; his light-brown mop is artfully tousled; his face is as boyish and beautiful as Ryan Phillipe’s. Now, you may be expecting a story of mutual attraction leading to a fairy-tale ending, but you’d be dead wrong, because Tommy, as well as being a walking wet dream, is a violently homophobic shit. I hadn’t made any moves whatsoever (other than being unable to avoid staring at his irresistible beauty), but he quickly and accurately sized me up, and within a week had started using me as a punching bag. You see, the Callaghan money paying for his expensive education was the most nouveau of riche, and Tommy’s background is New Jersey tough, not blue-blooded aristocratic. I tried to change rooms, but there were no openings, and it would have been very much against the unwritten code of prep-schools to explain to anyone why it was so important (besides which, homophobia being what it is, the official stance might have backed Tommy). I went home that summer with a nice collection of fading bruises that sent my mother into a fit.

I’m out to my parents, so at least I was saved the embarrassment of lying about why Tommy had decided I needed beatings. As soon as I assured her that I hadn’t been molesting my straight roommate to precipitate the attacks, she began planning revenge. She took me to see my great grandmother, (still very much the matriarch even at the age of 98). Great-grandmere Celeste is a frankly scary lady. I have always felt that she could tell what I was thinking, sometimes even before I was sure. She sent my mother out of the room as easily as she might have dismissed a small child, and than sat looking at me silently for a long while. Finally she spoke. “Louis, cher,” she said, “what is it that you wish to happen in this situation?”

“I just want a way to make him leave me alone!”

She raised one elegant eyebrow slightly, but said nothing further – just looked at me – until finally I couldn’t take it any longer and said, “Okay, okay! I want him to like me!”

“Bien. If you are sincere in this, I will teach you how it can be made to happen.” She rose slowly from her chair. “Louis, give me your arm. I have something to show you.” Leaning heavily on me she led me over to a bookcase. She pulled at one of the books and a previously invisible niche opened in the wall nearby. Inside it was a small wooden casket, which she told me to bring over to the light. As she fumbled with the dusty, rusted latch she said, “I learned about this from my grandmere, and she from her mother’s nurse who was feared throughout the islands as an obeah-woman. I will show you how to use the Obeah, what you call voodoo.” She finally had the lid open, and inside were stubby, home-made candles in several dull colors, an assortment of pins, needles, feathers, scraps of cloth, and a featureless stuffed doll made out of what appeared to be cotton sheeting.

“I will give you this doll, and these candles. When you are back at school, get something that is part of this Tommy Callaghan and sew it onto the doll. Hair or fingernail clippings are good. Clothing will do, so long as it has not been washed since the last time he wore it. Best of all would be his essence.” I must have looked as confused as I felt, because she laughed, “His seed, mon cher Louis, his seed!” I blushed crimson. “But since you are enemies, I doubt if that is possible,” she continued. “When you have sewn whatever it is onto the doll, you will light the candles and repeat three times the chant I shall teach you. After that, whatever happens to the doll will also happen to Monsieur Callaghan.” She proceeded to instruct me in the pronunciation and memorizing of the ritual chant. Fortunately a lot of it was in the Creole French of the islands, although the accent was a little peculiar, and a few of the words were totally foreign to my ear. “Normally, these things also require the payment of blood,” she said, “But then,” eying my bruises and the healing cut over my right eye, “You have already paid, have you not, cher?” I could see how this might enable me to hurt Tommy (that is, if it worked), but I couldn’t figure out how it would make him like (okay, want) me. Great-grandmere Celeste just laughed and said, “I’m sure you will think of a way.”

When I returned to school in the fall I had indeed come up with a plan, and was ready for the experiment. First I had to wait until the first time Tommy masturbated. (Yes, in addition to being a metaphorical jack-off, Tommy was a real one.) Like most boys in an all-male school, myself included, he whacked it several times a week (never, of course, when I was around, but you get to know the smell), and usually wiped up the mess with his dirty underwear or t-shirt before stuffing said article of clothing into his laundry-bag. (Okay, so I did a little sneaking around in his laundry bag last year. I have fantasies too!) The first time Tommy was out of the room, I dived for the laundry, quickly liberated his freshest, most recent cum rag, in this case, white briefs, and hid them in my sock drawer. I knew he’d never miss them until the next time he washed his clothes (not a frequent occurrence).

Later that week, when Tommy was at soccer practice, I sewed his stiff shorts onto the doll, lit the candles, and completed the ritual. Then I pinched the butt of the doll. Now, if there were real power in voodoo, I should be seeing some results. When he came back to the room, Tommy was limping just a little, and while I would never expect him to share any personal information with me, I did notice that he sat down rather gingerly on his bed. Apparently the poppet did work! It seemed it was time for phase two.

One of my extra-curricular accomplishments is the skill of hypnotism. From the time I was in seventh grade, I had been amusing my friends with little, harmless hypnotic escapades that made great party entertainment. I had also, for a long time, had fantasies of putting a handsome dude into a trance and having my way with him, and for the last few months that dude had often had Tommy’s face, but in the real world of hypnosis, you couldn’t do much without cooperation from your subject, unless you had access to some kind of CIA drugs. With Tommy, cooperation was out of the question, but anything that happened to the doll seemed also to happen to Tommy, and the doll couldn’t have any resistance, now could it? I meant to find out. A few nights later, while Tommy was absorbed in homework, I left the room, the doll and my crystal hypno-pendant hidden in my shirt, and sneaked into the storage room behind the chapel where I was certain to remain undisturbed. I turned on a dim light, seated the doll on the counter, dangled my pendant in front of its sightless eyes, and began my induction. I admit that I felt more than a little silly telling a cloth doll to relax and breathe deeply; to watch the pendant; that its eyes were locked and couldn’t look away; that its eyelids were growing heavy; that it was helplessly falling into a deep sleep; that it would not wake up until I ordered it to; that it heard only my voice and would obey all my suggestions without resistance; that it had no will. But I persevered, using all the techniques and experience I had gained hypnotizing my more accommodating friends. I even extended the length and repetitiveness of the induction chant as a precaution. If I had been working on a human subject they would have been miles deep in trance by the time I finished. The last thing I said to the doll was, “You will begin counting backwards from 300. With each number you say, you will be twice as deeply in my power.” Then I put the doll and the pendant back into my shirt, turned out the light and went back to my room to see the results of my efforts.

When I opened the door to my room, the first thing I heard, to my ever-lasting relief and satisfaction, was Tommy’s voice reciting in a slow monotone, “173… 172… 171…” He was still seated (or should I say ‘slumped’?) at his desk, his eyes closed, and his handsome, boyish face as blank of any expression as was the doll’s. I put away the doll and pendant, and then paused to enjoy the picture while I let him continue his countdown until he was so deeply under that he could hardly speak the numbers. Then I said, “You may stop counting now, Tommy.” He fell silent.

“You have no thoughts, your mind is a blank. Isn’t this true?”

“…No thoughts…mind blank…” he muttered.

“You must obey me in all things.”

“…Must obey you…” again the slurred murmur.

“Tommy, tell me your opinion of your roommate Louis.”

For the first time since his entrancement, his face showed a trace of animation (and ugly animation at that, but only a trace), as he growled, “ ’s a fuckin’ faggot. I hate his guts, the way he stares at me!”

“No, Tommy,” I said, “you are quite mistaken. You like Louis very much, very much indeed. It is you who are the faggot. Whenever you see his handsome face and his hot body, you want him so much you can hardly control yourself. Even just thinking about him makes you want to beat off! He’s the sexiest boy you’ve ever seen, and you are madly in love with him, aren’t you?”

Tommy writhed in his chair, as if the mental struggle were physical. “No, please, I’m not gay!” he moaned.

“Yes, Tommy, I’m afraid you are quite gay,” I insisted. “You can feel it happening even now. You are thinking of handsome Louis, and your dick is getting very hard. You must touch yourself. You cannot resist.”

I watched Tommy’s khakis begin to tent as he continued to moan and writhe. His hand moved as by a will of its own down to his crotch, and he began to rub himself through the thin material of his trousers. A small wet spot of pre-cum became visible next to his fly.

I ordered him to stand up, and as he stood, his erection became even more evident. “Tommy, you can’t take care of your need properly with all of those clothes on. You will let me undress you.” I began to unknot his already loosened school tie, and pull it from his collar. “You might thank me for helping you out,” I continued. “The proper thanks would be a deep kiss for each item of clothing removed.”

Tommy had given up the struggle. He was helpless in the grip of his lust and my spell. Mechanically he droned, “Thank you, Louis,” and then took me into his arms and began to devour my lips, his tongue like velvet flame as it delved into my mouth. Then he returned to the mindless fondling of his own crotch. I began to unbutton his white shirt. It is, of course, impossible to room with a guy, however hostile, and not to have seen him undressed (at least partially) from time to time, so there were no surprises about the beautiful torso that I was unwrapping. Tommy’s hard muscles and smooth, tanned skin were just as mouth watering as always. The difference was that now I could touch (and taste, and smell, and… and…) as well as look, all without the danger of violent consequences. After another mind-blowing thank-you kiss, I let myself go wild on Tommy’s beautiful bod (after first ordering him not to cum without my permission - all that rubbing was making him pretty hot and bothered). I licked and sucked his neck from his earlobes on down, then moved to his tempting little brown nipples. A few minutes of sucking and chewing had them erect and as hard as pencil erasers, and had poor Tommy whimpering like a girl. Then I licked down his hard, flat stomach to his navel, and began to eat that out. The young man smell of my aroused roommate was driving me crazy as it filled my nose and mouth. My hard-on was almost painful in its intensity, and my shorts were just as sticky with pre-cum as Tommy’s were.

Before moving on to Tommy’s pants (and the main event of the encounter), I quickly undressed myself. Then I unbuckled his belt, unfastened and unzipped his trousers, and pulled them and his briefs down to his ankles. His cock (all seven hard inches of it) sprang free into his waiting hand, and he began to stroke it feverishly, even as his mouth again moved toward mine. “Oh my God, thank you!” he moaned, and then planted another one on me. This was the most exciting yet, since our embrace now rubbed naked flesh on naked flesh. The warmth of his body against mine almost seemed to burn, and it took all the self-control I possessed to keep from cumming immediately as our two slippery cocks collided with each other. Difficult as it was, however, I managed to pull away again. I had one other part to add to my ritual of control. (No this was not on Great-grandmere’s instructions. It was my own addition, but one I instinctively knew to be right, and it depended on Tommy’s essence remaining uncontaminated by mine for just a little longer.)

“Tommy,” I said, “In a moment I am going to command you to cum. When I do, you will have the best, longest, most intense orgasm you have ever had or even imagined having. Your mind will be filled with thoughts of your roommate Louis and only of him. He will be the focus and the cause of your extraordinary pleasure, and it will be linked to him in your thoughts forever. Do you understand?” Tommy grunted and nodded, apparently beyond speech, and masturbated even harder. I retrieved the doll from the drawer where I had put it. “When you do cum, you will try to catch as much of your jism as you can on this doll.” I placed it in his left hand. “It is very important that as much of your cum as possible should soak into the fabric. You will obey me?”

“…Obey…you… …cum…on that…” Tommy managed to gasp out his obedience.

I began to play with his ass and finger his virgin hole. “Very well, Tommy, you will CUM NOW!” He howled, his butt clenching around my fingers, and began to spurt gout after gout of his hot sperm all over the doll, his hand, and the floor. Finally, after even longer than I would have believed possible, he stood trembling and sweating, head down, his incredible orgasm finished. I had cum all over myself as well, without even touching my own cock. Before taking the soaking doll out of Tommy’s hand, I carefully cleaned my own hands of all traces of my sperm. It wouldn’t do at all to get any of my “essence” on the control fetish. Who knows what would happen the next time I had to use it? I then put it very carefully back into the drawer.

Before cleaning up the rest of my orgasm, I scooped as much as I could off of my stomach, and smeared in on Tommy’s lips and under his nose. “Tommy,” I commanded, “Take a deep breathe of this smell.” He inhaled dutifully. “That is now your favorite smell. It makes you feel sexy and helplessly obedient. It is your Master Louis’ cum. As you inhale the smell it is turning you into a sex-slave. Now, boy-toy, get dressed again, as you were when we started.” By the time I finished cleaning myself and the room, and was back in my own clothes, Tommy was once again dressed, his breathing returning to normal, standing in the relaxed, head down posture of the deeply hypnotized.

“What are you?” I quizzed.

“I am a hypnotized boy-toy,” came the dreamy response.

“Who is your master?”

“You are, Louis.”

“Whom do you love?”

“You, master.”

“In a moment, I will snap my fingers and tell you to wake up. When I do, all memory of this evening’s entertainment will vanish from your mind. You will be certain that you merely fell asleep at your desk while studying. If, at any time in the future, you should hear me (and only me) say the phrase ‘hypnotized boy-toy’, you will immediately go back into deep hypnotic trance, as deep as the one you are now under. No one else besides me will ever be able to hypnotize you. If you are ever asked, you will be sure that you have never been hypnotized, and that you don’t really buy into the idea.”

“Have you ever been hypnotized?” I tested.

His zombie-like response, in the most hypnotized manner imaginable, as he stood, eyes closed, swaying gently, was, “I’ve never been hypnotized. I think it’s a crock.”

“You will continue to be wildly turned on by me and deeply in love, but you will be sure that it is your own idea, because you are gay, and I am desirable. You will be obsessed with finding a way to become my lover (since, of course, you won’t remember that you already are). Now repeat all of these instructions.” As Tommy droned through his drowsy litany of submission, I took one last opportunity to fondle his neck and run my fingers through his soft hair. When he finished the recitation, I kissed him once more, tasting my own cum on his succulent lips. I told him to go over to his desk, sit in his chair, and lay his head down on his open books. Then, after he was in position, I said, “Wake up, Tommy,” and snapped my fingers.

He didn’t move for a moment, then his eyes opened and he sat back up. “Shit!” he muttered to himself. “I hate it when I do that. Now my neck is as stiff as a board.” Then he turned to me, with a look of transparent longing on his open, boyish face. “Louis, could you help a buddy out and give me a neck rub?”

I was, I will admit, rather mean to my newly tamed roomie. Oh, I gave him his neck rub, all right, until he was purring and wriggling like a kitten, his eyes half closed with pleasure; but I played completely dumb, and didn’t take him up on any of his obvious hints to push the matter further. This pattern continued for the next few days, with Tommy making attempt after clumsy attempt to interest or seduce me, and becoming more and more desperate, while I remained, to all appearances, friendly, but steadfastly oblivious. I’m a great believer in delayed gratification, and was sure that the results would be worth my rigorous self-control. When, after a week or so, it seemed that the poor lad was about ready to explode with frustration, I initiated the next round in my plan of domination.

That evening as we sat studying in our dorm room, I asked, as though it were a new idea, “Hey, Tommy, have you ever been hypnotized?”

True to his programming, he responded, “No way! It’s all a bunch of bullshit, anyhow. People who are supposed to be in a trance are just faking it.” He turned in his chair to look at me.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said. “I’ve been hypnotizing friends since junior high, and they sure didn’t seem to me to be faking. I told one guy that he was drunk, and he actually went into the john and was sick. You can bet I never tried that again! And another friend, when I told him he was watching a really sad movie, he actually began to cry. Real tears! Why, I’ll bet I could even hypnotize you, if you’d cooperate. What do you say? A little experiment to give us a study break? If it works, you’ll wake up feeling great.”

“Hypnotize me? There’s a real fat chance of that happening. Even if it weren’t phony, I’d never give in to someone else’s will. My own is way to strong. Now, if I were going to try it on you…” Tommy’s expression altered to one of slyness, as it became obvious that it had occurred to him just how a hypnotized Louis might suit him very well indeed.

However, being hypnotized myself was definitely not on my agenda for the evening, whether my roommate had any of the necessary knowledge to achieve that result or not, so I said, “Why wouldn’t you give in? Are you afraid that somebody could turn you into a hypnotized boy-toy?” At the sound of the cue phrase, Tommy’s eyes swept shut, his head tipped forward onto his chest, and he was instantly limp and helpless in deep trance. “Undress,” I commanded. “Your master wishes to see you naked.” Like the mindless robot he had now become, my young slave slowly and methodically stripped off his school uniform. Once again I was left in awestruck wonder at the sheer beauty of his body. When he removed the last garment (his shorts) and relapsed into somnolent immobility, I ordered him to sit on his bed, and then got the doll out of my sock drawer.

“Tommy,” I said, “Open your eyes but do not awaken.” He complied, staring blankly straight ahead at nothing. I held the doll out to him. “Look at this doll,” I commanded. “I have put a spell on you, so that this doll is you. The doll is Tommy; Tommy is the doll…the hypnotized boy…the hypnotized doll. Look into its eyes and see your own hypnotized eyes. Look deeper and deeper, relaxing more and more as you look, becoming more and more profoundly hypnotized. The doll is looking into your eyes, and it is going deeper and deeper, too. Tommy the doll and Tommy the boy, deeper and deeper into hypnosis…deeper and deeper…falling helplessly under the power of their master Louis. You love this feeling of being under my control, even though you will have no conscious memory of it. It makes you feel good; it makes you feel very, very sexy to be unable to resist, doesn’t it?”

Tommy’s eyes were fixed on the doll, eyelids at half-mast, and he mumbled, “Yeah, …’m gettin’ real horny”. He scarcely needed to confirm that, since he was developing a gorgeous erection, although the rest of his body remained completely relaxed and motionless. He was now guaranteed to get hot, every time I put him under.

I then took off my own clothes, and, after giving the doll a few strokes on its crotch and the place where its nipples would be (and thereby making Tommy moan like a porn star), returned it to its hiding place. “Your master has a treat for you,” I told my roommate. “You are going to be allowed to suck his cock, and because you’re a good hypnotized boy-toy, I’m going to show you another feature of hypnotism. When I count to three, you will discover that your whole body has become extra-sensitive to sexual pleasure; so sensitive that you’ll feel everything you do to my body just as if it were being done to your own. When you touch me, you will be touched; when you suck me, you will be sucked; and when you make me cum, you’ll cum at the same time and not until then. To show that you understand and obey, repeat those instructions.” Tommy droned through the repetition, his cock getting harder and harder as his mind assimilated the new programming. When he had finished, I said, “Stand up and come here to me.” He obeyed. “Take me in your arms.” His embrace enfolded me, his hard-on prodding, but his handsome, young face remained hypno-devoid of expression. “Now, blow me! One…two…three,” and I kissed him.

I had had little experience up until this time (okay, basically none), so I can’t really say whether Tommy gave the best head in North America, but if there is someone out there who is better, they can visit me any time they like. Maybe young Tom had been the recipient of some really good blow-jobs, and was drawing on past experience, or maybe he had just thought about it as much as I had, but, whichever was the case, he was amazing. After we broke our kiss, panting with lust (although Tommy’s face still had that blank, mesmerized stare that I was finding to be such a turn-on), he hoovered his way down my chest, paying particular attention to my nipples, which rapidly grew as stiff as my dick (his own following suit, in compliance with my suggestion). Then his talented mouth reached my erection, and the fireworks really started. He licked, he kissed, he sucked and slobbered, tongue-teased and deep-throated; and all the while, his own moans of passion acted like a world-class hummer. His hands were busy stroking my balls and thighs, playing with my ass. I could smell pre-cum, as Tommy’s cock responded to the hypnotic blowjob it was receiving in his mind. The stimulation and excitement became so intense, that I even tried a little quick self-hypnosis, just to make it last a little longer, but I couldn’t maintain my concentration in the face of the sensory onslaught. One of my roommate’s fingers slipped into my asshole, and that was that. I blew my load so hard that I saw stars, and thought I might even pass out. Tommy didn’t lose a drop of my load, but my legs and feet were covered with his cum, when his cock dutifully exploded in synch with mine. The room was filled with the heady scent of sperm and teenaged male sweat.

For a moment, I was beyond speech, but gradually, as my breathing returned to normal, I was able to release Tommy from the sensory connection I had forged between us. I ordered him to clean his cum off of me (discovering in the process that there is something curiously erotic about watching a deeply entranced young hunk lick one’s feet), and then I got us both dressed.

After Tommy was seated at his desk, as before, I prepared to wake him up. First, however, I took a moment to gloat over how excellently this was all going. As I did so, a new and highly intriguing thought came to me: if this combination of Great-grandmere’s voodoo and hypnotism worked this well on Tommy, why couldn’t it be used on some of the other prep-school studs? There were a lot of handsome guys at this academy, and, although Tommy was the only one of them who had offered me physical violence, he was by no means the only homophobe; nor was he the only one I would relish re-educating. There was, for example, Adam Foxon, conceited trust-fund twit, with a face and body suitable for the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog, and a personality suitable for hanging. It would be heaven to see that egomaniac obeying me like a well-trained puppy. And by using Tommy, I could get to him, since Adam was, among other things, the captain of Tommy’s soccer team. Having come to this conclusion, I acted.

“Tommy,” I said, “I have some very important instructions for you. You will listen as carefully as if your life depended on it, and you will obey, no matter what. Whenever you are in the locker room, either before or after soccer practice, you are going to look for a chance to steal one of Adam Foxon’s dirty jockstraps. As soon as you have an opportunity to take one without being seen, you will have an irresistible compulsion to do so. You will have no conscious awareness that you are trying to steal Adam’s jock. Even as you take it, you won’t know that you are taking it, nor will you remember afterwards that you did, but you will take it, and after you have it, you will bring it to me, and then forget about it completely. These are complicated, vital instructions. I want you to repeat them to me twice, to make certain you understand them perfectly, and then repeat them again, silently, every night before you sleep, until you have accomplished your mission.”

My boy-toy carefully parroted my orders, getting it all perfectly.

Then I said, “In a moment I’ll let you return to your normal consciousness. When you do, you’ll know that I must have been able to hypnotize you, after all, because you’ll feel wonderful, and because you won’t remember anything about what we’ve been doing. You’re going to think that’s really cool, and you’ll always be eager to be hypnotized any time I want you to be. You’re also going to be interested in learning how to do hypnosis, yourself, although it will never even occur to you to practice it on anyone except those people I tell you to hypnotize. Of course you will still be unable to be hypnotized by anyone other than me, and you will still go instantly into trance whenever you hear me speak your cue phrase: ‘hypnotized boy-toy’, although, as before, you won’t remember anything about that. Oh, by the way, I’ll be working on a little sewing project for a while. You won’t pay any attention to it. Now, count slowly from ten down to one, and as you reach one, you’ll wake up feeling terrific, and very pleased with me.”

“Ten…nine… …three…two…one.” Tommy opened his eyes and sort of shook himself. Then he grinned. “Holy shit, Louis! I thought hypnotism was bogus, but you really did it! I was out like a light. Man, I feel great! You can do that to me any old time. I haven’t felt this relaxed since the last time I got laid. What the hell did you have me doing, anyway?” He leaned back radiating satisfaction; although I got a distinct sense that he was rather hoping I had “taken advantage of him”. Well, of course I had, but I wasn’t about to let him know that!

“You don’t remember anything?” I asked innocently.

“Nothin’. Come on! Give! What ‘d I do?”

“Well,” I chuckled, “You didn’t exactly get laid, but you sure got one hell of a hard-on when I told you that you were watching a dirty movie. And I was able to make you forget your own name. You tried and tried to remember, but the closest you could come was to say, ‘I think it begins with an m’. You’re a terrific subject, all right! Oh, and I did give you a little present. I think you’re going to find that studying for that math test is going to come a little easier than before.” (Of course, all of this was bullshit, but just because you’re not actually hypnotized, it doesn’t necessarily follow that you’re completely immune to suggestion.)

Tommy’s eyes widened. “No shit? You really gave me some kind of hypno-tutoring? I gotta check this out!” He scrambled for his math book and began studying with a vengeance.

Now, where was my sewing kit?

I had completed the new doll more than a week before Tommy finally had a chance to provide the crucial remaining ingredient. He came back to our room after the Friday afternoon soccer practice, and, talking non-stop about the practice and our team’s chances in the next game, pulled a jockstrap out of his backpack, and handed it to me, apparently without noticing what he was doing. It was as if his hands were someone else’s, neither under his control, nor consciously connected to him. Once the jockstrap was in my hands, he acted as though it were invisible; it simply had no existence for him.

I immediately realized that Adam Foxon is a pig! I don’t know when was the last time he washed his gear, but from the smell of it, it probably was at a time when the process would still have involved a stick and a flat rock at the riverside. However, for my purposes, this was not a bad thing. There was even a bonus that, in addition to the sweat and piss stains, there were several pubic hairs trapped in the webbing. I had him! I brought out the unfinished doll (again, with Tommy taking no notice of it), and quickly sewed the jockstrap into place, taking a little extra care to stitch the pubic hairs directly onto the doll’s fabric. Now it was ready for the ritual.

Tommy had gone into the bathroom, but when he came out I quickly said, “Hypnotized boy-toy,” and he froze in place like a mannequin (a mannequin with a boner, that is; by now he was conditioned to be really fond of hypnosis). “When I count to three you’re going to wake up again, with no memory of having been briefly in trance, but you’re going to be really sleepy. You’re going to be so tired that you just have to take a nap. You’ll sleep for thirty minutes and then wake up refreshed. But while you’re asleep, you won’t be disturbed by anything you hear me say or do. You won’t have any awareness of it at all. One, two, and three.”

My roommate continued to walk through the room as though his motion had never been interrupted. He yawned, “Man, I’m beat. That practice just about totaled me. Louis, you don’t mind if I catch a few z’s before dinner, do you?” Without really waiting for a response he flopped down onto his bed, and was snoring before his head hit the pillow.

I got the rest of Great-grandmere Celeste’s paraphernalia out of my sock drawer, set up and lighted the candles, and placed the finished doll in the center of the circle. I remembered what Great-grandmere had said about a sacrifice of blood being required, and since Adam hadn’t been beating on me, I figured I had better come up with something. I held the blade of my pocketknife in one of the flames to sterilize it, and then, before I could have second thoughts, I sliced into my thumb as if doing the blood-brother ritual. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch! I almost yelped, but managed to contain it. I carefully squeezed a drop or two of my blood onto each of the lighted candles, saying words of offering in the island French patois as the flames sizzled and smoked. Then I performed the controlling ritual on the new doll, and, if all had been done correctly (and I was fairly sure it had), Adam was now at my mercy. I would have to wait until late at night to implement my control, however. Adam had a roommate as well, so I could only perform my “proxy” hypnotism when both of them were asleep.

As it was, I just managed to get my thumb bandaged up and the candles put away before Tommy reawakened. He stared about him as if he couldn’t understand how he had gotten onto the bed. “I must have been totally zonked. I never take naps! Well, I guess I really needed this one. Anyway, I feel a lot better now. Louis, you want to go get some food?”

Late, late that night, with Tommy out of the picture in a hypnotically reinforced sleep, I was once again engaged in the bizarre act of hypnotizing a doll, and it felt just as strange as the first time. This time, however, I wasn’t going for total control just yet. What good would it do me, after all, with Adam in his room, and me with no good reason to be there with him? No, I just wanted a light trance to make him agreeable and susceptible to being hypnotized deeply when a better opportunity could be engineered. I began, “You are asleep, and you will stay asleep, but you are aware of my voice, and you will listen to it as it tells you to relax… relax… go deeper into sleep.” I started to swing my hypnotist’s bauble over the eyes of the doll (which was this time, for accuracy, lying flat). “In your mind’s eyes you see my pendant, my lovely, soothing pendant. It is beautiful and relaxing; it is fascinating and compelling. In your dream, you can’t take your eyes from it, no matter how hard you try. But you don’t try, because it’s so beautiful, and because it makes you relax more and more; makes you relax and listen and give in to me. You must give in to me, you must. You are in a deep hypnotic sleep and you will do whatever I tell you.” I continued in this vein for some time, and then got down to business. “When you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember any of this at all. You’ll feel that you slept well, and you won’t recall having had any dreams. Sometime soon, however, your teammate Tommy Callaghan is going to tell you about how his roommate Louis hypnotized him so that he could study better, and how much he enjoyed it. As he talks about his hypnotic experience, you’re going to find that it fascinates you, too. You’ll realize that you think Louis is an okay guy, and you’re going to want to get hypnotized too, to help your study habits, and just to see what it’s like, as much as you’ve ever wanted to do anything. You’ll get him to invite you back to our room to see if you or he can’t persuade Louis to put you under. He’ll agree, of course, and when he does, you’re going to find it very easy, even irresistible, to go into the deepest possible trance.” Then I remembered the state of that jockstrap. “One more thing: when you come over to be hypnotized, make sure that it is at a time you can take a shower and put on clean clothes. Now, sleep and obey!” Then I put up the doll, and went to sleep myself.

The next morning, as Tommy and I were getting dressed to go to breakfast, I invoked his cue phrase. While he stood quietly, eyes closed, the tie he had been in the middle of knotting, still tangled in his limp fingers, and his cock rigid in his white briefs, I said, “Tommy, today you have a mission. I want you to find an opportunity to talk to Adam Foxon. You’re going to tell him about how I hypnotized you to help your studying, how well it worked, and how good it makes you feel. I want you to be enthusiastic, and, if he seems interested, invite him back here to try it for himself. You won’t remember that I told you to do this. It will be your idea, understand?” Tommy nodded, and, after waking him, I settled myself to wait for the next move in my little game.

That afternoon, after classes, I had already been back in our room for fifteen minutes or so before Tommy returned. Even before he opened the door to come in, I could hear that he wasn’t alone. “And he can really do all that stuff?” said a familiar, snotty voice of Adam “I’m God’s gift” Foxon. (So either the doll had done its job properly, or my roomie had been a really good salesman.)

“He really can.” That was Tommy’s voice. “And you won’t believe how good it makes you feel afterwards! I swear it’s almost better than sex!”

Adam snorted in patent disbelief, and then the door opened and they came into the room. Although I still think that Tommy is the handsomest guy I’ve ever been around, I have to admit that Adam gives him more than a little competition. For one thing, he’s taller; for another, he has a face like a high-school aged Brad Rowe; and finally, he has that indefinable something a few rich boys have, that says “even when I’m grubby, I’m classier than you are”. Of course, today his clothes were clean and neat, his smooth blond hair well combed and parted, and his shoes polished, so grubbiness didn’t enter the equation. (Another good indicator that my little hypno-voodoo experiment was working on him.) At any rate, he was looking very good, and I was more than eager to take him down.

“Hey, Louis,” Tommy greeted me. “I ran into Adam at lunch today, and when we got to talking, he told me that if he can’t pull up his math grade by mid-terms they’re not going to let him play on the soccer team. We were hoping that maybe you could, you know, do your little hocus-pocus number. How about it, buddy? Could you hypnotize him?”

“Well, I’d have to be sure you two weren’t just trying to jerk my chain. It’s not like neither of you has never given me a hard time before! And hypnosis requires some serious commitment on his part as well as mine (yadda, yadda). It takes concentration.”

“No, no, honest, man! We’re serious. The team is gonna go straight down the tubes if we lose our captain right in the middle of the season! Please, you gotta help us out!” Tommy was really cute when he was begging.

Even Adam bent down far enough from his high horse to add, “I really would appreciate the help.”

“Well…” I pretended to consider a little longer, then relented. “Okay. Let me try a couple of tests to see if you’re hypnotizable. Not everybody is, you know.” This would give me my final necessary proof that it was realistic to go ahead with my plans.

Adam smirked in a way that said as clearly as if he had voiced it, “Well, if it has anything to do with strong character, you can bet I’ll be able to resist.” And yet he did seem to want to try.

I did two or three of the standard tests, and he passed with the highest of flying colors. The postural sway had him rocking like a mast in a stiff breeze, and there was nearly a yard between his hands by the end of the light/heavy visualization. There was now no question in my mind that my spell from the previous night had taken. (There was also no question that Tommy was becoming more and more suggestible as well. He had done the tests right along with Adam, even though he hadn’t meant to do them!)

“Well, you’re certainly going to be an excellent subject,” I told him. “I have an idea. Tommy, you’ve done all this before. Why don’t you go ahead and get hypnotized along with Adam? That way, as I do the induction, he can be watching you, and seeing you react to suggestions will help reinforce them for him. What do you say?”

“Sure, Louis. How do you want us to do this?” (Oh yeah, Tommy loooves to be hypnotized!)

“Move the two desk chairs opposite each other so that you can sit face to face,” I instructed. “No,” as they moved to comply, “Closer than that. I want your knees almost touching, so that you can look right into each other’s eyes.” They adjusted the seats to my satisfaction, and sat down, looking squarely at one another, Tommy’s face filled with anticipation, Adam’s still a bit skeptical. “Now, feet flat on the floor, hands on your knees, with your palms facing up, and sit back in the chair,” I told them. “Fix your eyes on the eyes of your partner, and don’t look away. If you find your gaze wandering, just bring it back to his eyes. Now, take a deep breath. Hold it… hold it… And let it out slowly while you feel your muscles relax…” I continued the usual progressive relaxation induction, moving from their feet to their legs, torsos, shoulders, arms and hands, necks, heads, and finally eyes. Adam watched Tommy in amazement as my roommate quickly and easily yielded to the trance, not appearing to realize that he was doing exactly the same, until the two of them sat like matching bookends, heads lolling on powerless necks, eyes halfway closed, but still fixed on each other. I administered the coup de grace. “Your eyelids are too heavy to hold open any longer. No matter how hard you try, by the time I count from ten to one, you will have closed your eyes and gone into the deepest possible sleep.” I began to count, and Tommy was off in no time, sweetly as a baby. Adam seemed to try to rally, but it was much too late for him to escape. In spite of his best efforts, the drag of his eyelids overcame his resistance, and by the sound of the word “one”, he too was a limp and helpless sleeper. (He looked so much sexier with the attitude wiped from his face.) To Adam I said the usual control phrases about not awaking without my command, about hearing and obeying my voice only, and so on. For Tommy it was enough just to whisper, “Hypnotized boy-toy,” to bring him under absolute control (and to raise a rock-hard tent-pole in his trousers).

I let my roommate zone out while I worked on the new subject. “Adam,” I commanded, “Stand up and open your eyes, but do not wake up.” He rose to his feet and stood swaying gently, his face blank, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. “Describe yourself to me.”

In a sluggish monotone he recited, “I’m an eighteen-year-old high school boy, with blond hair, …” He went into a fairly detailed (and not too conceited) inventory of his physical features, including, oddly enough, the measurement of his cock (6 ½ inches), and concluded by adding, “And I’m completely hypnotized.”

“That’s not quite correct,” I informed him. “Everything you have said is true, most especially that you are deeply in trance, except for one detail. You are not a high school boy. You are an android robot slave fashioned to look like a teenager, and you have been programmed, activated, and hypnotized for one thing only: to serve real young men sexually. It is your prime directive, and you have no interest in, or ability to have, any other sexual activity. Any time a human male addresses you as ‘Slave’, it will activate your programming, and you will obey whatever that person tells you to do, instantly and without question. Your mouth, your hands, your dick, and your ass will be his to use in any way he wishes. And as soon as he has dismissed you, you will delete the memory file of your sexual service, and return to pretending to be a boy.”

Momentarily, a confused expression flashed across Adam’s handsome face, and then the stoic blankness returned. “I am a hypnotized robot slave,” he droned with an even greater lack of inflection than before.

“Slave,” I said, and he snapped to rigid attention. “You will stand there and hear nothing until I touch your left shoulder.” He stood there like a dummy in a department store window as I turned to sleeping Tom.

“Tommy,” I said, “I know you’re very horny, because you are so in love with me, and yet you haven’t been able to score with me.” (Of course, Tommy and I had been having sex regularly for a couple of weeks now, but he had no memory of it!) “Well, because you’ve been so obedient and patient, I’ve decided to give you sexual outlet to help control your frustration. Adam is now programmed to be your sex toy. As long as you call him ‘slave’, he will let you use him any way you want. It will be just as if you had hypnotized him. Now, won’t that be exciting?”

Tommy’s dick grew harder. “Yeah!” he breathed.

“There are some ground rules, however. You will only use Adam in this room, although you are permitted to mind control him anywhere, as long as it’s for the purpose of bringing him here. You have no qualms about my seeing you do whatever you do to him. As a matter of fact, you will forget that I’m there while you’re engaged with him, although you will still obey any orders I should happen to give you. And, of course, you won’t be in love with him. I’m the boy with whom you are obsessed; he’s just a convenience. In a moment I’m going to say ‘Tommy, go for it’, and then you are going to have your first experience controlling Adam. I want you to fuck him. Be sure to use a condom!” (After all, I didn’t want my unwitting roomie to suffer because of Adam’s less than scrupulous attitude toward hygiene)

I then touched Adam on the shoulder. Before officially awakening him, I, of course removed all his memory of what had been going on, and I did give him a suggestion for better study habits. After all, fair is fair.

When Adam regained awareness, he looked around a little dizzily. “Jeez, I guess you got me. Am I ready for the math, now?” Then he noticed Tommy, still fast asleep, and obscenely tented at the crotch. “What the fuck is going on? Why the hell is he hard?! Wake him up, you little pervert!”

“Fuck is the operative word,” I said. “Tommy, go for it!”

Tommy’s eyes opened, but he was still obviously, even to Adam, totally under my power. He fixed his gaze on Adam and said, “Slave, take off your clothes.”

The effect on Adam was galvanizing. From an angry, frightened young man he was transformed instantly to a statue-calm zombie that methodically began to disrobe, first the school jacket, then the tie, the shoes, socks, and shirt (no t-shirt), slacks and boxers. When he was completely naked, he stood calmly waiting for his next order. I hadn’t ever seen him “out of uniform” before, and I must say that his body was lovely. He was mostly smooth except for the crotch and armpits, and his ass, in particular, was as pretty as a peach. I envied Tommy just a little.

Meanwhile, Tommy and I had also stripped, and I had personally fitted a lubricated rubber over his rampant cock (kind of interesting, since he didn’t appear to know that I was doing it). At my suggestion, he ordered Adam to get an erection, bend over the bed, and relax his butt, which the hypnotized stud immediately did. Then with no more preambles, Tommy entered him and began to fuck like a stallion, puffing with lust, but his expression still blankly, hypnotically detached. I took Adam’s doll from its hiding place, and, after snipping away a few of the stitches between its little legs, slipped it over his woody like a finger puppet. After whispering to Tommy that it would be a good idea to order his butt-boy to cum at the same time he did, I settled back to jack off and watch the show.

Hypnotized or not, there was nothing the matter with Tommy’s imagination. He fucked Adam to the moon and back, finding angles and positions I’d never even thought of. It was better than porn. I had blasted off and put my clothes back on, long before he finally clenched his hot little ass and came. At the same time he gasped, “Orgasm! Now!” and Adam clenched his jaw and dutifully pumped his teenage load into the doll, permanently cementing its status as a control fetish. I quickly repaired the snipped stitches, re-concealed the now anointed doll, and commanded Tommy to get the two of them cleaned up and dressed.

When we were all more or less back in our original places (the two of them seated facing each other, limply fast asleep), I commenced the mental clean up. “Tommy, when I count to three, you’ll wake up. You will remember that you just had Adam, and that you can have him any time you want, just by speaking his trigger phrase, but you’ll obey all the ground rules I laid out for you, without consciously remembering them, because you are going to awaken convinced that your control of Adam is the result of your own hypnotic powers. I also want you to listen to the suggestions I’m about to give Adam, because these also are going to register in your memory as suggestions that you yourself gave him.”

I turned to Adam. “Slave, when Tommy counts to three you are dismissed, with no memory of what we have been doing. You will not know that you are a robot until your programming is invoked again. In addition, you will not remember that I hypnotized you. You’ll be certain that it was your pal Tommy who did it. Nor will anyone other than us ever be able to place you in trance, unless we give permission, and tell him how to access you. And finally”, and I added this because I still smarted from his snotty attitude when he was awake, “whenever you see either Tommy or myself you will feel a powerful compulsion to kneel down and kiss us on our crotches, as a sign of your total subservience to your masters. If it’s in a public place, you’ll be able to resist acting on this compulsion, although it will always be very difficult to do so, but in private, the urge will be utterly irresistible. However, you won’t realize that this need is the result of hypnosis. You’ll think it is your own kink, and you won’t understand why you feel compelled to do it.”

I leaned close to Tommy and whispered into his ear to bring him out from under. He stretched luxuriously, then winked at me and pointed to the still sleeping Adam. “Check this out,” he said grinning. “I’ve really got this jerk by the short and curlies now. One, two three!”

Adam struggled awake and looked about blearily. Then his eyes focused, first on Tommy, then on me. A blush suffused his cheeks. “I, uh…, I’ve got to get going,” he said thickly. He started toward the door, but as he passed Tommy, still seated, but with his legs now spread in invitation, he hesitated, then stopped, then went back to stand between my roommate’s splayed ankles. Adam’s knees began to flex, and, still looking as though he were trying to stop himself, he knelt and passionately kissed the bulging mound of Tom’s crotch. His face grew redder yet, as, still on his knees, he shuffled over to me to deliver an identical smooch to my basket. He got up and fled from the room in tears.

“Pretty cool, huh?” said Tommy, with an expression of such sexy, mischievously charming evil on his face, that I could no longer resist. I grabbed him and gave him his first ever male-to-male un-hypnotized frenching.

Since then, Tommy has been the lover I’ve always dreamed about. (And why wouldn’t he be, when I can always hypnotically change anything I don’t like?) We still put Adam through his paces from time to time, but it’s more to keep him humble than to answer our sexual needs. I’ve been thinking, however, that it may be time to get the sewing kit out again. Now that Tommy and I are “out”, he’s been getting the same kind of crap I’ve always had to put up with, only he reacts with his fists. I suppose there’s a certain element of karmic justice in that, but if he gets in many more fights, my boyfriend may just find himself expelled. I can’t let that happen, now can I? And besides, the two worst offenders, Rick and Jason Flint, are really hot. Twins! Tommy’s getting pretty good at hypnotizing too. Maybe we could put them in each other’s power. That would keep them busy!

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