Disclaimer: The usual. This is fiction. It deals with the topics of male/male sex and erotic hypnotism (as well as a little light humiliation). If you or your community has a problem with that, or if you’re under legal age, GO AWAY! You’ve been warned.
by
“Christ, what a load of crap! Those guys are all faking it!” My nineteen-year-old know-it-all little brother Steve and I were watching a television special featuring a well-known stage hypnotist, and he was being his typical, snotty self. He continued his cocky rant, “If there really was such a thing as hypnotism, every guy who had a pair would be putting chicks under right and left! I know that’s what I’d be doing.”
I gave a non-committal grunt of acknowledgement. What I hate about Steve: his loud mouth. What I like about Steve: he’s a real hottie – black hair, sexy mouth, eyes like backlit sapphires, and a great bod, with the best ass ever. (He looks a lot like the actor Ian Somerhalder. For that matter, so do I, except that, at twenty, I’m a little more buffed than Stevie, and, if I’m honest about it, my face isn’t quite as pretty as his.) What I really like about Steve: I’ve been hypnotizing him since we were kids! He doesn’t have a clue, but at a single word he becomes my mindlessly obedient slave. It started, when I sent away for one of those comic book offers, and little Stevie (ten at the time) had been a willing experimental subject. To my amazement, it was so easy to put him under that first time, I had been afraid he was pranking me. But after a few deepening exercises, I’d managed to make him eat a soap chip as if it were a chocolate, so I knew he wasn’t faking. I gave him a trance cue word and, for the first of many times, erased his memory of everything concerning our experiment, including the fact that it had ever taken place. From then on, he was mine without any awareness of the fact. At first, I only used my advantage for little things – to get him to volunteer for chores I hated, or sometimes to give me his dessert – uncomplicated suggestions that he obeyed as effortlessly as if they were his own ideas. But recently, as he’s grown handsomer and handsomer, I’ve upped the ante. After a great deal of deep-hypnosis conditioning (of which his conscious mind remains totally ignorant), little bro Steve is my unwitting fuck’n’suck toy any time I want him to be. And I have to tell you, one of the biggest turn-ons of the whole thing (aside from having the sexual services of my straight, stud-muffin kid brother) is how totally clueless he is about it. As far as he’s concerned, the only action he ever gets is from the ladies he pursues. (And truth be told, there’s damn little of that, because girls who’d otherwise be willing to fuck him based on his looks, get completely turned off after fifteen minutes or less of exposure to his abrasive waking personality. Stevie’s much better company when all he can do is say, “Yes, sir”, and go down on you.)
After we turned off the television, it was time to retire. Even though our parents are loaded and it’s a huge house, Steve and I share a room (ok, suite) because Mom and Dad think it’s a good way for us to learn negotiation and compromise. Before I got little bro under my power, I used to resent it, but now it provides me with the perfect set-up for my hypno fun and games, with a lot of privacy, since we’re a very long ways from the part of the house where our parents sleep. Steve still resents it, but I’ve conditioned him to be unable to complain to our folks or try to change the situation. As we got ready for bed, my brother was griping non-stop about his love life (having mistaken me for someone who gives a shit). Apparently, he had fallen in lust with one Kelly Dobson, who was showing singular intelligence and good taste by not succumbing to his charms.
“She’s such a frigid fuckin’ bitch; too stuck-up to even answer when I say hello. Hell, I bet she’s a lesbian. What a fuckin’ waste! She’s got the best tits I’ve ever seen. Man… I could…. I could..… I….. could….. I……”
I had taken out my hypnotist’s crystal and begun toying with it so that the light of the lamp sparkled off of it into Steve’s eyes. Well conditioned as he was, his diatribe immediately trailed away, his voice growing softer and slower like a machine running down, until it ceased altogether, and he stared in helpless fascination at the glittering bauble, his handsome young face blank and unguarded. “You’re sleepy, aren’t you, Stevie?” I asked gently.
“Yes, Alex.” Oh, how I loved it when that annoying brash voice became the soft and polite murmur of a deeply hypnotized slave-boy. Just to be safe, I said his trance cue phrase, and he was totally gone.
“Take off your pajamas, Steve.” As he dreamily complied, I finished stripping as well. He’d been under my spell so deeply and for such a long time that I no longer had to justify my commands in order to get him to obey. “Suck my cock, Stevie, and cum when I do.”
“Yes, Alex.” My hypnotized little brother knelt down in front of me and slurped my rigid cock into what (by dint of my diligent training) had become the hottest, most talented mouth you can imagine. It was great. It always was. But, as I cleaned us up afterwards, I realized that this was becoming too predictable, too easy. As foxy and sexually skilled as he was, Steve was just too darn familiar to provide the thrill I really craved. I needed fresh meat! I gazed speculatively at my brother, who, now deprived of any additional suggestions, was standing there as stupidly as a stuffed monkey, and considered my options.
Suddenly, epiphany! Stevie could be bait! Oh, not sexually, since I didn’t know any other gay guys (if I did, I’d be just as good bait as Steve) nor, as far as I could tell, did my brother (or at least, he didn’t talk trash about anybody that way, and he would have), but he could advertise, as it were. Steve’s friends were all cute little stud-boy jock types. I’d fantasized about several of them at various times. And, just like my brother, they were, to a man, arrogant and dumb! They’d be easy to trick. I took Steve deeper into trance, and began to interrogate him about his buddies, looking for weaknesses and potential entry points into their unsuspecting little minds. The two best prospects appeared to be Matt Showalter and Jason Kincaid. They were both on the university JV baseball team with Steve and hung out with him a lot off the field as well – practically the Three Musketeers (or rather the Three Stooges) – so access wouldn’t be difficult. And they both had reasons why hypnotism might appeal to them: Matt was trying hard to give up smoking, so far unsuccessfully, and Jason had a phobia about exams that was becoming so severe his grades were putting his athletic eligibility in danger. If Steve could bring up the subject of hypnosis casually, they’d jump on it like a duck on a June bug. Of course, this would require a complete about-face from the attitude I’d previously encouraged my brother to hold (as a precaution against anyone suspecting that he’d been hypnotized): namely, that hypnosis was a crock, and that anybody who appeared to have been put under was just faking for whatever reason; but, hell, he’s so suggestible I could make him believe in aliens or the Easter Bunny, if I wanted to.
“Steve, this is what you’re going to do…”
“Geez, Matt! Couldn’t you wait til we got outside to light up? Now all my clothes are gonna stink!” Steve glared pointedly at the offending cigarette.
“Yeah,” Jason chimed in, “Every time I hang with you guys Barb bitches me out about the smell when I get back.”
“Sorry, dudes. Hell, I didn’t even realize I was doing it! God, I wish I could kick this fuckin’ habit. Every morning it takes me about fifteen minutes just to stop hacking! But I just get so fuckin’ nervous when I go too long without a drag!” Matt looked properly apologetic, but it didn’t stop him from puffing away.
“You should go see Alex,” Steve muttered. Neither of his friends noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor as he went from free speech to programmed script.
“What’s your brother got to do with my smoking?” Matt asked.
“Nothing, Matt, ol’ buddy. But he could have a lot to do with your not smoking. He learned how to hypnotize in one of his psychology classes, and he’s gotten pretty good at it. If you gave him a shot, I bet he could get you to quit without the withdrawal crap. Hell, Jase, he might even be able to calm you down about your exams. If you guys like, I’ll ask him.” True to my instructions, Steve sounded very nonchalant, even though, thanks to post-hypnotic suggestion, he was obsessed with getting his pals to agree.
Both Matt and Jason looked extremely interested, but they were still cautious. “Dude, if it works, are you sure we can trust your bro not to make us do something embarrassing as a joke? After all, he sure loves ragging on you,” said Matt. And Jason added, “ I don’t want to wind up clucking like a damn chicken every time I hear a bell or something!”
Steve smiled ingenuously, “I can pretty much guarantee he won’t do something silly. He’s taking it very seriously, even talking about doing it for a living. Besides, he knows I’d rat him out to our folks if he tried anything mean, and then it would be bye-bye to his financial support.” That was enough to satisfy his eager friends, and the three quickly made plans to approach me.
We were all gathered in the living room to arrange things. The Parental Units were in Europe for the whole month, so time and privacy were not an issue. I’d forgotten just how hot these two little fuckers were! Matt is a blond pretty-boy from somewhere out west, with a face that’s a maiden’s dream, and a laid-back kind of cowboy charm (picture Chad Michael Murray as the young Lone Ranger). Tall, clean-cut, and lean, he wears his shirts and his jeans tight, and shows off a body that would seduce a nun. Jason is an east coast preppy (like Steve and me), with light-brown hair and hazel eyes. He always looks just a little worried and over-eager, like a dog that’s afraid it’s offended the pack-leader and is trying to make amends, but his bod is just as smokin’ as Matt’s or Steve’s, and his face is so boy-next-door wholesomely cute, that the insecurity just adds to the effect (the sort of boy Ethan Hawke might have played a few years ago). The two of them sitting there, Matt on the couch beside Steve (who, as I’ve mentioned, is also the reverse of ugly), and Jason in the other easy chair, opposite mine, were almost more than my circuits could take without overloading.
“So, you guys want to try Dr. Mesmer’s quick and easy path to better mental health, huh?” I smiled in what I hope was a pleasant, ingratiating fashion. It wouldn’t do to let them see how hungry they were making me.
“Steve said you might be willing to try to hypnotize us and get rid of a couple of problems.” Jason was acting as spokesman. “Matt is smoking so much that none of us can stand it any more, and I… Well, the best I can describe it is, when I go into a room to take a test, it’s like I can’t breathe; I start to sweat and I get so uptight that I forget everything I studied. They’re threatening to revoke my sports eligibility. I might even flunk out! Will you, can you help us?” He was trying to act grown up and in control, but the mute, almost pathetic appeal in his eyes said it all: he was desperate and that made him totally vulnerable. And Matt, although he remained silent, had the same begging expression.
I played professor for a moment (to establish my credibility in their naïve eyes). “Guys, both your problems are kind with which hypnotism can deal very effectively. A trance state allows your mind to be reprogrammed and you can get rid of unwanted habits or desensitize phobic reactions quickly and, with some repetition, permanently, if the hypnotist knows what to do. The rub is that you do need to go into a very deep trance state to achieve results.” This, of course, was a blatant lie. What they wanted done could be accomplished in a relatively light trance. But not what I wanted to do! (Insert evil laugh here.) “Let’s try a couple of tests to see if you have the ability to go deep enough.”
All three of them were staring at me as if I’d been speaking Chinese (too many three-syllable words, I guess), but Matt and Jason quickly agreed to follow instructions and be tested (yes!!).
“Okay. Matt, Jason, I want you to hold your hands out in front of you like this.” I demonstrated the classic position for a heavy hand/light hand suggestibility test. The two jocks complied and, I was amused to note, easy Steve was going along too, although he didn’t appear to have noticed that he was. “Now, close your eyes and try your best to follow my instructions as closely as possible.” I launched into my spiel, and soon all three were imagining as hard as they could that one hand was tied to helium-filled balloons while the other was supporting an unabridged dictionary. After about two minutes of suggestion not one of the three had a distance of less than a foot between his hands. Bingo! I told them to open their eyes and check it out. They made the usual oohs and ahs of impressed surprise, but the bottom line was that they were now convinced that they really could be hypnotized, and so, of course, they would be.
I seated the two new victims side by side on the couch, making sure they were as comfortable as possible (it didn’t matter whether Stevie was in a position to be re-hypnotized or not, since I already had his number) and drew out my crystal pendulum. “It’s just like in the movies. Jason, Matt, focus on the crystal as it twists and sparkles in the light. Concentrate on the beautiful play of colors as the facets revolve…” In order to look at my bauble, both boys had to turn, so that they saw, not only the crystal, but also each other. I meant to use that. Eager, accommodating Jason had been well in the lead of Matt in the suggestibility exercise, so I was counting on his reactions to act as reinforcement in bringing Matt into the fold. As I continued through the progressive relaxation, and eventually the sleep suggestions, I could see that it was working perfectly. Jason’s face lost its tenseness and opened up beautifully. He looked as though he didn’t have a care (or, for that matter, a thought) in the world other than to stare at the crystal. Matt, who, although he’d visibly relaxed, had not yet begun to show other signs of capitulation, gradually began to mimic Jason’s zoned expression. Towards the end, they were blinking their heavy eyelids practically in unison. “…so peaceful… so relaxed… so sleepy you just can’t hold those tired eyes open a moment longer… They have to close… It will feel so good to let your eyes shut and sleep… sleep… sleep….” Matt and Jason gave up their losing battle for consciousness. Their eyes drooped shut for the last time and didn’t struggle to open again. They were out cold, ready for whatever suggestions I wanted to give them. I turned to see what Steve was making of all this. My little bro was standing with his eyes closed as well, fast asleep on his feet.
“Matt, Jason, Steve, your minds are losing focus. All of your thoughts are drifting away. You can’t form thoughts… you can only follow my instructions. Nothing can wake you until I tell you to wake up. You only want to pay attention to my voice. Listening to me and following my orders makes you feel good. It makes you feel more relaxed. It makes you go deeper and deeper into trance. And you want to go deeper. More than you you’ve ever desired anything in your life, you want to obey me and go as far under hypnosis as you can possibly go.” Then I took them through the deepening exercises (Stevie too, although he didn’t need them – it would have been too disruptive to try to remove him from the mix at that point) and off they went on a one-way trip to hypno-slave-land.
When everyone was in a deep enough state, the first thing I did was to perform the promised therapeutic stuff. I wanted these boys happy to come back again for further trance experiences, and besides, every suggestion they obeyed would send them further under my control, so why not start with the ones they were already inclined to accept. I did aversion work with Matt until he was disgusted with the very idea of smoking, and positive visualization with Jason to erase his test phobia. Then, I installed my backdoor into their wide-open minds. I used the same phrase that I had already conditioned Steve to respond to: “Sleep for Alex”. Anytime they heard me say that, they’d be off again, totally in my power. After that, I was ready to collect my “fee”.
“Guys, it’s much too hot in here. I’m gonna take off my shirt to get comfortable. Why don’t you all take yours off too?” Immediately they started to look uncomfortable. Matt broke first. He skinned out of his tight t-shirt and dropped it on the floor next to his feet, instantly looking relieved. Jason and Steve, having buttons to undo, took longer, but still, in less time than it takes to tell it, they too were bare to the waist. Wow! Since they’re all young guys, there wasn’t much hair in evidence. I’m sure Jason and my brother will have a normal-to-light complement eventually, but Matt is probably going to be smooth all his life. At any rate, the buttery glow of their tans, and the perfect sculpture of their torsos, unobscured by any fuzz, was fuckin’ awesome! I was hard as a rock, and quickly finished undressing just to relieve the constriction down there.
“It’s still too damn hot in here… incredibly hot… feels like a sauna…. It is a sauna. You are in a sauna. Why are you wearing street clothes in here? You ought to take everything off. You need to take everything off to enjoy the sauna. Go ahead and strip. It’ll feel great!” With no hint of discomfiture or resistance, the three entranced boys shucked out of their remaining garments and relaxed, basking in the imaginary steam.
“It feels really good, doesn’t it?” I was answered with sleepy murmurs of agreement. “It feels so good that it’s beginning to make you horny. Your getting more and more turned on… hotter than the steam… so horny you can’t stand it… you’ve got to do something about it… you must! You don’t care if your buddies see you or not! As a matter of fact, it just makes you hornier knowing they’re here with you. Jack off. Jack off, now!” They were all squirming by the time I finished this set of suggestions, and all of them were showing major wood. I could even see that Matt’s cock was dribbling a little. He must not have been getting any lately. This time there was a touch of hesitation in the response of my two new slaves (Steve, of course, was whacking it with abandon as soon as I finished the order). But they did succumb, and, after only the briefest struggle to resist, they were soon stroking themselves and groaning with pleasure.
I turned up the pressure. “You’re so horny you’ve just got to cum, but you can’t! Playing with yourself won’t let you cum, no matter how turned on you are. Do you understand? You can’t cum from jerking off. Say it!”
“I… I can’t cum from jerking off.” Helpless agreement from three very frustrated boys.
“The only way you will get relief is if someone else does you. You can only cum if your buddies or I make you cum. You can only cum if your buddies or I do you… only with us… only with us…and when you do cum, it sends you deeper into trance. Cumming hypnotizes you… hypnotizes you… hypnotizes you.” I gave these suggestions a moment to register fully, and then commanded my brother to give Jason a blowjob.
Jason’s innocently blank face took on a look of wonder as my brother’s skillful suction took over from his compulsively stroking hand. He began to moan with rapturous pleasure, and his hips twitched as he tried to fuck Steve’s mouth. I could read the signs, so I leaned over and whispered, “Cum, Jason.” Then I kissed him on the lips. The boy exploded jism into my brother’s mouth, panting and groaning. Then the other part of the suggestion took effect, and his face went blank, even more expressionless than it had been. His arms dropped limp to his sides and he sat staring vacantly, much more deeply hypnotized than before. This is pretty much the way I had gotten little Stevie to become my sex toy in the first place. I’d given him orgasms to get him deep enough to the point he couldn’t refuse to give them to me.
I gave Jason a command to continue to go deeper into trance until I spoke to him again, and then turned to the sexy, desperately masturbating blond. “Matt, your turn.” I knelt between his legs and began to give him head, Because of the pre-cum, he smelled really good, so I enjoyed it a lot. He also didn’t last very long before orgasm was inevitable. “Cum, Matt,” I commanded, and stepped back while he blew an enormous load all over his legs, belly and chest. Then he too went off to la-la-land, a mindless, helpless zombie. I called my little brother over and had him stand with his erection pointed at Matt’s chest. Then I just touched his forehead and ordered him to orgasm, which he did instantly. A moment later he joined them in the ranks of the utterly zonked. I made him lick Matt clean, a chore he performed with perfect mindless efficiency and no apparent awareness of what he was doing. Then he slumped into one of the easy chairs, and returned to motionless staring like his pals.
“Matt. Jason, Steve, you are all so hypnotized that you can’t resist me at all. You can’t disobey, or even question anything I tell you to do. Obedience is always instant, complete, and compulsive, as unconsidered and unstoppable as the beating of your heart. Repeat the words: I’m hypnotized; I will obey’”
“I’m hypnotized; I will obey.” Their sleepy drones were in perfect unison.
“Again.”
“I’m hypnotized; I will obey.”
“Again.” ….
About three weeks later, Matt Showalter was walking across the quad on his way to the parking lot when he saw Steve trotting towards him, waving for him to wait. He stopped while my brother caught up.
Steve, without a word of preamble, thrust a piece of paper at him saying, “Matt, check this out!”
Matt read:
“Dear Matt,
This is a message for you from Alex Castorbridge:
Sleep for Alex!
You are now in deep trance. You will go with Steve and do whatever
he tells you. You will obey him just as you do me, until I order you to do
otherwise.
Alex
Matt stared helplessly at the letter, his mind and body frozen in place. After a half dozen more hypnosis sessions, he and Jason were just as completely controlled (and just as unaware of it) as my brother. I could simply have programmed him to show up at a particular time and place, but I’ve wanted to try some of these b-movie tricks for a while now, just for fun. (I had one in mind later for Jason, too.)
“Matt,” my hypnotized (of course) brother commanded, “You will remain in deep trance, continuing to go deeper. You will drive directly to my house, driving carefully and well. You will not stop to talk to anyone. When you get there, Alex will tell you to come in. At the sound of his voice, you will get an immediate hard-on. You will enter, and you will say, ‘Your hypnotized slave-boy Matt is here to serve you, master’. You will then come to attention, and your mind will be a total blank until Alex tells you what to do next. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” docile Matt replied.
“Follow your orders, Matt.”
“Yes, sir.”
The doorbell rang, and when I opened the door to find Matt. His eyes were open, staring straight ahead, but there was no sign of personality or awareness in that gaze. It is an expression I have come to love. I knew he would just go on standing there until he passed out from exhaustion if I didn’t order him to do anything else. “Come in, Matt.” Like a sleepwalker (which, indeed, he was), Matt shuffled into the house, the bulge of his sex growing larger and larger in his tight jeans with each slow step.
“Your hypnotized slave-boy Matt is here to serve you, master,” he obediently recited. Then he snapped to attention like a well-trained Marine, and froze in that position, as devoid of animation as a waxwork.
Of course, the whole slave-boy come-to-attention bit was really just a way for me to be sure he was still in deep trance when he arrived, but I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t turn me on. The soft, bemused quality of his usually cocky voice, his rigid immobility, so different from his normal easy swagger, and the vacant blankness of the expression on his pretty-boy face were the height of sexiness to a budding hypno-fetishist. I undressed, and then began to strip Matt, one slow piece of clothing at a time, fondling, caressing and licking as I went. In next to no time I was rock-hard, but for all the reaction he showed, I might have been feeling up a statue (other than that his cock hadn’t gone down since it first filled out in response to the hypnotic command).
When I had finished unwrapping Matt, I ordered, “Kneel down.” My entranced toy sank to his knees, still staring blankly straight ahead. I positioned my cock at his sexy lips and said, “Suck my dick, Matt. You want to give me the kind of blow-job you’d like to receive.”
“Yes, sir,” he said softly, his face betraying no change, and he slurped up my tool as matter-of-factly as a paid hustler. Then I went to work. It was totally hot just to have this self-satisfied ladies’ man swinging on my joint and helpless to resist, but, like my little brother before him, this straight boy had a lot to learn about giving head to another guy. First, I coached him on the basics: keeping my cock protected from his teeth by thoughtful placement of tongue and lips, how much actual suction to apply, how fast I liked the motion. Then I went on to the finer points. I de-sensitized his gag reflex so that deep throat was no problem (at the same time making him learn how not to run out of air while he was swallowing me), taught him about hum-jobs, and made sure he was well-versed in how and when to use his hands on my balls and ass. By the time I got to this last item, it was getting hard to talk, because the new, improved cocksucking-Mattbot was really pushing my buttons. So when, in response to my order, his questing finger slid into my ass-crack and found my butt-hole, I came in his mouth like a fire-hose. A lot of it dribbled down his chin (hey, a novice needs practice before he’s able to swallow that fast!), but he gamely kept on sucking, and the tranced-out stare didn’t waver. It was pure bliss.
After I had quite finished, I noticed that Matt was still sporting his hypnotically induced woody. Here was another training opportunity. I got out a nice dildo (moderate size – I didn’t want him stretched out of shape, and besides, until he got used to being fucked, a large one could tear him up), lubed it well, and told him to fuck his ass with it. Again, like a robot, he did as he was told without a hint of resistance or emotion. Very hot! As he worked the plastic cock in and out of his butt, I played with his dick and whispered into his ear, repeating over and over instructions and encouragement about how good it felt, how aroused he was getting, how this felt better than any sex he’d ever had, and how, from now on, he wouldn’t be able to jerk off successfully unless he also played with his ass. The hypnotic suggestions and the dildo soon had him panting and moaning in ecstasy (even deep hypnosis won’t stop a guy from reacting to an orgasm), and then he exploded cum all over my hands and his belly.
As I cleaned him up, I made him agree that he would let me fuck him any time I wished, and that he’d never have better orgasms than those he had from being fucked. After a number of forced repetitions of this, he was beginning to sound like he meant it, so I finished up the housekeeping chores (i.e. erasing his conscious memory of the events, getting him back into his clothes, and giving him the necessary instructions to get him away from the house before he came out of trance) and sent him on his way. Then I retired for what was a very necessary nap.
A few evenings later, Jason Kincaid was walking down the stairs from the twelfth floor of the library (which he often did for the exercise) when his cell-phone went off. He was feeling really good, having just found out he’d aced his English lit midterm, and so he answered cheerfully, “Hey! Jason here – you got me now talk to me.”
“Sleep for Alex.”
Jason froze in mid-stride, his eyes glazing over. “Yes, sir?”
“Where are you now, Jason?”
“I’m in the library stairwell.” His voice was toneless and abstracted.
“Is there anyone around?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re suddenly extremely horny, Jason. You’re so hot you can’t keep your hands off yourself. You have to take your dick out, right where you are, and jerk off. You’re just too horny to resist. You won’t let anything stop you or distract you until you cum. Understand?” I heard Jason’s lust-filled moan of acknowledgement and continued, “Then you’ll clean yourself up, zip your pants and you will come to me… you will come to me… you will come to me! Now, forget this phone call and wake up.” (Okay, so it’s another b-movie scenario. Sue me!)
********
Jason (his cell-phone returned to his back-pack and forgotten) was feeling unimaginably turned on. He couldn’t understand what was happening, but his dick was practically punching a hole in his khakis. A damp circle of pre-cum had already formed where the head tented his fly. He watched helplessly, like a passenger in his own body, as his hands, with a will of their own, massaged his swollen crotch, unzipped and unbuckled his trousers, and then pushed down his pants and boxer shorts to free his aching cock. As he began to stroke his erection, Jason’s knees gave way and he half sat, half sank to a seat on the stairs. The cool cement against his bare ass turned him on even more, and he masturbated furiously, moaning and panting, almost delirious with lust.
He’d been at it only a few minutes, when he heard the sound of a door opening on the landing below. Jason was gripped with panic, but he couldn’t make himself move from where he was or stop stroking his meat. His handsome, innocent face filled with alarm as he waited for the inevitable discovery, still jacking away. The steps approached the turn in the stairs, and then another young male form appeared. Jason peered into the gloom trying to see who it was, and then realized, with both relief and acute embarrassment, that it was Steve. Still unable to leave off playing with his dick, Jason began to babble, trying to explain that he couldn’t stop, to beg for help, when he realized that my brother (as you may have guessed, dispatched by me immediately after the previous phone call, and operating under powerful hypnotic control) was pointing a video camera at him.
“Jesus,” Jason groaned, as another wave of pleasure surged through him, “What the hell are you doing Steve? Turn that damned thing off and get me some help! I can’t stop doing this! I… uhhh… I must be going… uhhhh… crazy! I…. I…. Aieeeee!!!!” He flooded himself with cum and then collapsed back against the steps gasping with exertion.
When his eyes re-focused, Jason glared angrily at Steve. “What the fuck was that all about?! Give me that Goddamn tape, you fuckin’ perv!” He struggled to his feet, ignoring the trickles of cum running down his legs, and almost tripping over his pants, still around his ankles. The mortified young man yanked them back up so quickly that he just barely avoided injuring himself with the zipper teeth. Then he hurried down the intervening steps to try to grab the camera. As he got closer, however, he saw Steve’s face for the first time clearly, and finally registered my brother’s frozen, utterly hypnotized expression as he was dispassionately closing the video camera. Jason wiggled his fingers (still damp with cum, although he wasn’t paying attention that) in front of Steve’s glazed eyes, getting no reaction. “Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, “He’s in a trance! That fuckin” Alex! I’ll kill him!” He brushed past my oblivious brother and pelted down the stairs, never once considering that his own behavior in the stairwell, not to mention his single-minded desire to get to me now, was also incontrovertibly the product of my hypnotic meddling.
Not five minutes after the above-described scenario finished playing out, I opened the front door to the pounding of an extremely angry young Jason, dressed in a white wife-beater and fragrant, cum-splattered khakis.
“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at!?” he yelled, throwing an easily dodged roundhouse punch.
I backed out of range and said, “It’s a game called ‘Sleep for Alex’.” He dropped like a boxer felled by a knockout (which, in a sense, he had been), and lay limp and helpless, face down on the carpet. “You know you can’t fight me, boy, because, deep down you don’t want to fight me. You want to obey… you want to obey. Say it!”
“I want to obey.” All the rage (or, for that matter, any other emotion) had drained from his sleepy voice.
“That’s right: you want to obey, and you always will. Stand up, sleepy Jason, and take off all your clothes.” Moving like an automaton, he slowly got up off the floor and stripped. I noticed that his crotch hair was still damp from his masturbation session. I also noticed that his hard, tight little ass was practically begging to be fucked. I reached out and cupped one delightfully round and firm buttock with my palm. Oh, yes! I undressed quickly. “Jason, you’re really horny again. But this time it isn’t your dick that wants action. You feel really sexy in your butt. Your ass is becoming as sexually aware as your cock. You’re going to feel like Barb does when you’re in her. And you’re going to have a much better orgasm than any you’ve given to any girl.”
As I caressed Jason’s ass, Steve, still deeply hypnotized, walked in carrying the camera. “Bro, put down the video gear, shuck your clothes, and get over here,” I ordered. My brother obeyed unquestioningly. “Stevie, I want you to fuck your buddy Jason’s mouth while I fuck his butt. Nobody cums til I tell ’em to. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Twin responses, softly polite, utterly mindless. They moved to obey, Jason on all fours on the couch, and my brother facing him over its arm. Steve slid his boner between his pal’s pretty lips and began to thrust as the boy automatically applied suction. I climbed in behind Jason and pumped my well-lubricated cock into what turned out to be possibly the world’s most heavenly piece. My God, but that boy could fuck! Tight as could be, with the muscular control of a tantric guru, he had me on the ropes in next to no time. I thought about baseball (no good; made me think of ball-players), algebra, concentration camps. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t stave off the explosion. I barely had time to shout, “Cum, slaves!” before I lost the ability to from words. Jason was nearly afloat in spooge, between what I unloaded in his rear and what Steve shot into his face. And I’d have to clean the couch, because he’d shot his own wad (very juicy, in spite of having wanked himself off not a quarter of an hour before). As they used to say in the turn-of-the-century society columns, ‘a good time was had by all’. Only one of us would remember it, though.
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