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(A Tom LeBlanc Story)
by
It was about 10:00. Tom had just finished his morning chores, and was considering whether he needed to run any errands before his first appointment (2:00 that afternoon), when his doorbell rang. The hypnotist opened the door to find two good-looking, fresh-faced, clean-cut college boys on his doorstep. This wasn’t particularly unusual in itself; his hypnotist/slave Johnny Miller’s ongoing post-hypnotically programmed recruiting efforts frequently led bemused young men to present themselves at Tom’s door. These boys, however, didn’t seem to fit that pattern for several reasons. First, they hadn’t called for an appointment (something that all of the trance-compelled college students did automatically), second, their black trousers, white shirts and black ties certainly weren’t typical collegiate attire, and finally, to the hypnotist’s discerning eye, they showed no signs of being under hypnotic influence. The taller of the two was a charming tow-headed farm boy type, with sunny blue eyes, a light dusting of freckles across his cute nose, and a body that, even in his somewhat geeky clothes, looked hard and sexy. His companion was dark-haired, not nearly as muscular (although still very fit and trim), and had as pretty a face (soft gray eyes with incredible thick lashes, model’s cheekbones, and slightly pouty lips) as Tom had ever seen.
“Good morning, sir,” the blond said cheerfully. “And I hope it is a good morning for you. My name is Daniel Smith, and this is Peter Morgenstern. We are here for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. May we give you our testimony?” Both boys beamed.
Tom had been wondering who they were, and whether he could find a way to bring them under his control. Now, their fate was sealed; they had provided both opportunity (they wanted to come in and talk to him) and motive. If the boys’ good looks hadn’t sufficient inducement in themselves, their calling was, as far as the hypnotist was concerned, more than enough reason to counter any scruples he might have entertained. (The way Tom viewed it, religious proselyting was the greatest single piece of rudeness one human being could offer another. No matter how strong your faith might be, it was still only that: faith, not proof. Acting out of your ego-driven need to have your own belief system validated, far from saving someone, there was an even chance you might be damning him right along with you! So, in his opinion, these boys deserved whatever they got in the way of counter-conversion.) He carefully schooled his face to reveal no sign of his thoughts, and invited them in.
As soon as they were seated on Tom’s sofa, the two young men broke out their copies of the Book of Mormon and went into their spiel. The hypnotist appeared to be listening attentively, but what he was really doing was watching them like a hawk, seeking toeholds for neuro-linguistic patterning. By the time they had concluded their “set” presentation and were segueing into the question and answer portion that was the real meat of their conversion effort, Tom had managed to create a fair degree of pre-hypnotic rapport with both young men. As they talked, they had, without being in the least aware of it, subtly altered their body language to match his mirroring, and their breathing rates had begun to follow his. He’d even managed to anchor a neurolinguistic yes-response cue in Daniel, although not yet in Peter. Things were proceeding very well, and the boys seemed to be quite adequately suggestible. Not that this surprised Tom particularly. From what he knew of the Mormon Church and its practices, he suspected that he’d tend to view the training that these boys had received before being sent on their “mission” as something closely akin to his definition of brainwashing. They wouldn’t be here in his living room if they weren’t suggestible.
“Before you go on,” Tom interrupted gently, “Are you thirsty? Can I get you something to drink?” As he said this, he made a subtle motion, as though brushing a bit of lint from the right knee his trousers, the “yes” cue he’d anchored in Daniel.
The blond boy immediately piped up, “Yes, please, that would be very kind.” The kid obviously had no clue that his sudden desire for a drink came less from thirst than from the implanted trigger to agree.
“Orange juice all right? I know you guys don’t drink caffeinated drinks.” This time both of the young missionaries nodded affirmative. As he started to walk towards the kitchen, Tom added, over his shoulder, “Peter, would you mind helping me?” The dark-haired kid rose from the couch and followed the hypnotist from the room.
In the kitchen, Tom thanked young Peter for his willingness to help, offering his hand. The polite boy innocently reached for the proffered shake, and suddenly found his own hand, propelled by the hypnotist’s other hand, in front of his face, a classic “interrupted handshake” induction. As his mind struggled with its confusion, Tom’s smooth voice filled his ears with an unstoppable tide of soothing, comforting, mesmerizing words. By the time they returned to the living room five minutes later, with three glasses of iced juice, Peter was deeply in trance, but, on the hypnotist’s orders, showing no signs of it. He handed one of the two glasses he was carrying to his friend, and resumed his place on the couch.
Daniel recommenced his evangelical sales pitch, pausing to sip the orange juice from time to time. He didn’t appear to notice that his partner wasn’t contributing much. Tom had seen early on that the blond kid was the spokesman for the two. It was the main reason he’d chosen to capture the other boy first: Peter’s hypnosis-induced lack of communicativeness wouldn’t be as obvious. This had, however, left the hypnotist with a need to finish off Daniel rather quickly, before his friend’s trance could degenerate into true sleep though lack of stimulus, and that was why, contrary to his usual methods, he’d drugged the juice in Daniel’s glass. The drug was a relatively mild, harmless (but fast-acting) sedative developed in the university labs (another perk from the uncritically obliging Johnny Miller), and scarcely two minutes elapsed before the young missionary’s speech began to slur. Tom leaned forward and took the glass from his rapidly weakening fingers. The boy looked at him in bleary surprise, and then his eyes rolled up in their sockets and he passed out.
Daniel wasn’t unconscious for more than a couple of minutes, but that allowed Tom and his hypnotized accomplice to move the boy to a different chair. When he came around (disoriented, but none the worse for wear), he was sitting beside his friend Peter facing a wide-screen television that was currently displaying a vivid hypno-spiral in full spin, sparkling with blips of subliminal information. The hypnotist’s voice, sounded softly in his ears, the induction already in progress as he returned to consciousness, planting its hooks to capture his attention and his will even before he was fully aware.
“Look into the spiral… the beautiful relaxing spiral… feeling yourself float with it... drift with it… deep into the soothing, compelling whirl. Your legs, your arms are relaxing… growing limp and heavy… so relaxed… so heavy… thoughts drifting… floating away… floating away into the spiral… Eyes growing heavy and tired… so tired… so sleepy… deeper and deeper into the spiral… You have no thoughts… no will… no resistance… nothing but the spiral and my voice…so sleepy… only my voice… and sleep… sleep… deeper and deeper… sleep...” Peter, of course, watching the screen with mesmerized concentration, had followed Tom’s instructions to the letter. Already entranced, he’d had no choice, and his current state of total mental enslavement differed from the previous one only in degree. Dan, on the other hand, had tried at first to escape what was happening to him, but to no avail. The crafty hypnotist had tailored all of his suggestions specifically to the blond missionary’s reactions, and, still fuzzy and confused from his drugging, the boy had been unable to extricate himself from the rapidly developing daze that was rendering him incapable of thinking. By the time Tom whispered that final “sleep”, Dan’s eyes were closed, and his head hung just as helplessly slack as Peter’s. Their minds were now the hypnotist’s playground. Tom turned off the monitor and went to work.
“Boys, sit up straight and open your eyes, but remain deep in trance,” he commanded. They drowsily pulled themselves together and complied. Neither young man appeared to be looking at anything in particular; their wide eyes were blank and unfocused. “You can’t form thoughts any longer,” Tom continued. “You can only listen to my words, believe them, and obey them. Isn’t that so?” His inflection made it clear that this wasn’t really a question, but both Dan and Peter nodded and murmured in agreement. “Look down at your clothes. You can see that you’ve spilled your orange juice all over yourself. You can’t go back outside looking like that. You must take everything off so I can wash it for you.”
Dan immediately began to undo his tie, soon following its removal with his shirt and pants. Peter, looked down at himself, a foggy expression of dismay on his face, but he didn’t start to strip. “It’s okay, Peter,” Tom said. “It’s just the three of us here, and, as you can see, Dan is already halfway undressed. You need your clothes clean, so you have to take them off.” At the hypnotist’s additional soft encouragement, the handsome dark-haired young missionary joined the strip, and soon both he and his partner were standing in their briefs and t-shirts, once again string blankly. “Oh dear,” Tom said with mock concern, “The juice seems to have soaked through to your underwear. You’ll have to take that off too. If you look over to the couch, you’ll see the two robes I’ve laid out for you to put on once you’re finished.” Of course, there were no robes, but Dan pulled his t-shirt off over his head anyway. He walked over to the couch, pantomimed slipping into a robe, and then pulled his jockeys down and stepped out of them. His body was exactly as Tom had hoped: muscular, yet lithe and boyish, with sexual equipment of more-than-adequate proportions. As before, Peter hesitated, but the hypnotic compulsion (coupled, most likely, with his own fastidiousness) won out, and in a moment he had joined Dan in unwitting physical display as his slim, extremely sexy body was bared to the hypnotist’s appreciative view.
“Sit back down on the couch, boys… no, closer together than that, please.” Tom waited until they had obeyed. “Close your eyes and deep asleep again, even deeper than before. Let yourself go totally limp.” Dan and Peter sagged helplessly. The hypnotist walked over to them and gently pulled Peter’s heavy head over to rest on Dan’s shoulder, at the same time picking up Dan’s slack arm and draping it around Peter’s shoulders in an embrace. He then proceeded to position Dan’s remaining hand in Peter’s lap, the lax fingers curling loosely about the boy’s quiescent cock. Tom picked up one of Peter’s unresisting hands and placed it similarly on Dan’s dick, and then lastly, pulled Dan’s cheek over to rest companionably on the top of Peter’s head. They looked adorable, sleeping so peacefully in their innocently erotic tangle; but Tom was going for more than adorable. “Daniel, Peter, listen very carefully, because what I have to say to you is very important. You will find it to be the most irresistible, unarguable logic you have ever heard, and you will react to it and obey instantly. I want you to realize that one of the sexiest, most stimulating things you can ever experience is touching naked skin. It doesn’t matter whose skin you are touching. Simply the fact that you are pressed against another naked body, that you can feel the warmth, the texture of it against your own skin, that you can smell the scent of it” (Peter’s nostrils flared appreciatively at this point), “is the most arousing thing imaginable. You can’t help but react to it… can’t help but become so turned on that all thoughts of self-control or propriety vanish. You just have to have sex, no matter what. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried, and you won’t try.”
By the time the hypnotist had finished this last little sermon, both of the hypnotized young men were hard in each other’s hands. Peter has turned his face to bury it in Daniel’s neck, where he was busily sniffing, kissing, licking and hickeying the soft skin. Daniel’s head had fallen back in ecstasy, but both of his hands were very busy exploring every bit of Peter he could reach. A scant second later, and he had pulled the slighter boy around, almost onto to his lap, and fastened his mouth on Peter’s. Neither boy had opened his eyes, so Tom really couldn’t be sure if either had any idea of whom he was making love to so passionately, but, as far as he was concerned, it didn’t much matter, since he’d seen to it that they couldn’t stop. He settled back to watch, as the two beautiful youths grew more and more athletic and heated in their lovemaking. Tom recalled having read in some story or article that, because of the many strictures that the LDS held against all the common forms of tension release, whether by alcohol, sexual activity, or (in some of the strictest communities) even dancing, most young Mormon boys had a tendency to be a little hyper a lot of the time. As a result, he wasn’t surprised that the encounter, although certainly intense, was rather brief. Dan, and then scarcely a moment later, Peter blasted healthy loads of boycream all over each other.
The hypnotist sent them back into limp oblivion and then proceeded on to item two on his personal agenda. He lifted Peter’s once again strengthless hand, now dripping with his friend’s cum, to the dark-haired missionary’s peaceful face. Using the limp hand like a rag, he anointed Peter’s lips and nostrils with cum, and then, gently prying the boy’s mouth open, he inserted two of the fragrant, sticky fingers into it, and commanded him to lick them clean. As Peter obeyed, Tom said, “Peter, you’re now enjoying the most delicious (as well as the sexiest) taste and smell you have ever experienced. You find this substance so wonderful that it becomes virtually addictive. You have to have it as often as you possibly can. You can’t imagine existing without it. Isn’t this so?” Peter, whose response had escalated during this instruction until he was voraciously licking and sniffing his own hand, mumbled his agreement between slurps and smacks. “It’s your friend Dan’s sperm. You are addicted to Dan’s sperm, and you know you will want to make him cum as often as possible, so that you’ll be able to satisfy your craving for his delicious juice.”
Peter moaned, “Have to make Dan cum… need his cum so badly… have to make Dan cum…” His model-handsome face was filled with an expression of exquisite hunger.
Tom sent him back down into an even deeper sleep, and then performed the same indoctrination procedure on young Daniel, until he as well was obsessing over his partner’s jism. Then he asked, “Dan, while you and Peter are traveling for your mission, do you stay in the same room?”
“Yes, sir, usually. People from the church put us up, or sometimes we stay in a motel, but we almost always share one room.”
“Excellent.” Tom commanded Peter’s attention again as well, and then said to them both, “Boys. From now on, whenever you are alone together in a room, you will literally not be able to keep your hands off each other. You will be so turned on by each other, and so hungry for each other’s cum, that sex will be unavoidable. And you will enjoy it more than anything else in the world. Won’t you?”
Smiling like a sleepy puppet, Dan nodded with mechanical enthusiasm, as Peter once again muttered contentedly, “Have to make Dan cum…”
“Very good.” Tom smiled in his turn. “Now, you’ll let me teach you some new skills that you’ll find useful later on,” he said, as he began to disrobe.
A couple of hours later, two handsome Mormon missionaries were back on the street, walking to the next house on their route. The young men weren’t paying much attention to that, however. The blond had his arm around the dark-haired boy in a manner that could have been taken for comradely by a casual observer, but most definitely wasn’t, and both of them were carrying, rather than wearing, their suit jackets, so as to disguise the fact that each boy was sporting an erection so hard it was almost painful. They knew they were lovers, and that they couldn’t wait to be alone together, to suck and fuck their brains out. They did not know that this was because they were acting under post-hypnotic compulsion, for the very simple reason that they no longer remembered Tom, or anything that had happened in his house. And most especially, they didn’t know that, deep, deep down, in the most private, unassailable part of their unconscious minds, was planted a nugget of conditioning and carefully programmed knowledge, all to be triggered under the right set of circumstances. Daniel Smith and Peter Morgenstern were, unknown to themselves, on a new mission: the hypnotic conversion of other handsome, frustrated Mormon boys into their own newly discovered “faith”.
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