Disclaimer: All the usual rules apply: If you are under the legal age, offended by the concepts of either erotic hypnotism or male/male sexual activity, unable to distinguish between fiction (which this is) and reality (which this may never be construed to portray), or resident in some wretched community where such materials are forbidden to you regardless of your own preferences, then you do not have permission to read this; please go away. If, on the other hand, you have no legal or philosophical restraints, please enjoy. You have permission to read and/or download this story at any time you wish, provided you do not allow it to be seen by minors, nor re-post it anywhere without the author’s express consent. This story takes place a little before “To (Protect and) Serve” in the ongoing Tom LeBlanc series.
Pledge Class 200_
(a Tom LeBlanc story)
As the lights went down in the fraternity meeting and events room, Ken Turner wondered, not for the first time, just why the hell he was going along with this. When he had first come to ______ State University in September, it had quickly become obvious that the dorms were not going to do it for him, so joining a fraternity had seemed both logical and necessary for sanity as well as social standing. And __ __ K was definitely one of the best. The brothers numbered among them a good proportion of the most admired guys on campus. His own fraternal big brother, Eric Mallory, for example, was rich, popular, and a championship tennis player with dark-haired, blue-eyed lady killer looks and a reputation to match. Even though Ken privately considered himself, as a highly recruited young actor in the drama department, with looks and body easily the equal of Eric’s, to be quite good enough for Kappa material, he had nevertheless felt extremely lucky when they’d pledged him.
But the pledge process…! He didn’t know how much longer he could stick it out. First, there was the damned pledge song. It was an annoying little tune that they all had to learn and repeat any time an active brother requested it. Kyle had it memorized within the three hearings, but that wasn’t good enough. The pledges all had to listen to a recording of it four times a day, and it couldn’t be faked because the recording was on a log-in system like the language lab. Ken had to sit wearing headphones in a darkened room for fifteen minutes at a time while the song repeated over and over. And the recording was awful – full of bleeps, static, and background noise, as though it had been recorded over something else on a really inefficient system that was getting interference from a nearby radio station. By now he felt like he was hearing it even in his sleep!
And now here he was, sitting with his fellow pledges, waiting for, of all things, a freakin’ hypnotism show to begin. Ken couldn’t imagine a sillier form of entertainment! It was all totally bogus – just an opportunity for attention-starved idiots to act out on stage. He was certain couldn’t be real!
The hypnotist came out, dark, handsome, and dapper in his tuxedo. Oh well, Ken supposed he’d better at least seem to be interested. He sat up a little straighter and made himself pay attention to the guy.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” The hypnotist began. “My name is Tom LeBlanc, and I think I can promise that you’re all in for an interesting evening.” He went on to describe, in a general way, what hypnosis was, and what they could all expect.
“What bullshit!” Ken thought, not noticing how his own breathing rate had slowed and deepened in response to the imperceptible drag of the hypnotist’s ever-so-gradually slowing and softening delivery.
“Now I’d like for you all to try a simple test,” Tom was saying. “This isn’t hypnotism…” he smiled blandly, “…yet. Please lock your fingers together and extend your arms straight out in front of you like this.” He demonstrated the position. Ken glanced sideways to see if the other pledges were going to go along with this charade. Every one of them was assuming the requested position, so Ken felt obliged to do the same. The active brothers would surely hold it against him if he didn’t.
Tom began a standard your-hands-are-stuck-together test, exhorting his audience to concentrate and visualize as strongly as possible. To Ken, it seemed as though the hypnotist’s eyes were on him and his fellow pledges more than anywhere else, but as they were in the front, he supposed that was to be expected. He didn’t particularly try to pay attention to the repetitive spiel, but simply squeezed his palms together so as to appear to be making an effort.
“Tom finished up, “And now your hands are locked together so tightly it’s as though they’re glued. You can’t separate them no matter how hard you try… no matter how hard you try. Go ahead and try to separate them. Try as hard as you can, but they won’t budge; the harder you try, the tighter they stick.”
Ken, to his own bemusement, found that his fingers refused to unlace. Of course, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with hypnosis, but he must have been squeezing so hard that his hands had gone to sleep and weren’t responding to his attempts to open them. He tried to release his grip a little to allow the circulation to return. Eventually he was able to relax, and his hands finally slipped apart. The boy didn’t even notice that this happened just as Tom said, “All right, relax, and they’ll let go right away.”
Ken heard Craig Scott, the pledge immediately next to him, mutter (mostly to himself), “Jeez, I really couldn’t open ‘em. This shit’s forreal!” What a simpleton! Ken shot him a condescending, pitying glance.
Tom continued with more tests, all of them, in actuality, disguised induction. Ken (and the other pledges, although he was becoming less and less aware of them) continued to respond with greater and greater ease and obedience, conditioned as they all were by day after day of repeated exposure to the subliminal messages on the pledge song recording. Ken’s mind and will became more and more focused on the hypnotist, although his rapidly marginalized consciousness continued to rationalize, valiantly trying to hide from itself the degree to which it was losing control.
“Now I want all of you to relax completely and focus on my eyes,” Tom commanded, beginning the formal induction. Empty your mind of all thoughts except to listen and follow my instructions. Try not to let your attention wander, but if it does, just bring it back to me immediately. You’ll find that it becomes easier and easier to stay completely focused on me and my words.”
Ken hadn’t had any intention of being hypnotized, but he found that his eyes automatically sought out the hypnotist’s, without his having consciously decided to look. Tom’s compelling gaze captured the boy’s as easily as a spider-web ensnares a moth. Try as he might, he couldn’t break the connection. It felt as though the muscles controlling his eyeballs were paralyzed. The hypnotist’s green eyes filled Ken’s world. He was no longer aware of his fellow pledges, the other frat brothers, the room around him. He and Tom LeBlanc existed in total isolation. Nothing protected him, nothing could distract him from the insidious compelling voice that was making him relax, focus, and above all, stop thinking and give in to mindless compliance. There was nothing but those eyes and that voice… those eyes and that voice… that voice… that voice…..
“And now your eyes open.” Ken blinked. What the hell had just happened? He scarcely had time to recall where he was before the hypnotist continued, “Those of you who responded will come up here and take one of these seats now.” Without even thinking, Ken was on his feet, walking up to take a chair. He didn’t notice that the other pledges were right behind him, a file of will-less sleepwalkers, or that none of the brothers were! (Already conditioned by Tom, the active members of __ __ K only went into trance when the hypnotist wanted them to, so now they were all awake and grinning in anticipation of the embarrassment the pledges were about to suffer, totally unaware of their own ongoing vulnerability.) Tom moved quickly down the row of hypnotized pledges. A touch to the forehead and a softly uttered, “Sleep,” and each boy was instantly limp and helpless. He reached Ken, last in the row. Ken saw the hand approaching his face, and, in a detached way, thought that maybe he should try to dodge it. But before he could begin to translate that vague impulse into action, the fingertip made contact with his brow, the gentle, irresistible voice commanded him, and his world shut down.
The next thing Ken knew, the voice was saying, “Wide awake now. What have you been doing!?” His eyes popped open. What had he been doing??? Ken realized that he was standing next to Craig, their arms linked about each other’s waist. They’d just finished belting out a chorus of On the Good Ship Lollipop. Suddenly he registered that the sensation of contact was skin on skin! He looked down. Neither he nor Craig, nor any of the other three pledges standing next to them in a chorus-line, was wearing anything except underpants. He snatched his arm away from his pledge-brother’s bare middle as if it were red hot, and looked about desperately for his clothes. Ken spotted his jeans and dashed to put them on, almost falling as one pant-leg snagged on his toes in his haste. Once he had his fly done back up, he felt as though he were decently covered and his sense of panicked mortification died down somewhat. He looked out at the audience of frat brothers, hooting, shouting out rude comments, and laughing like hyenas. His own big brother, Eric was doubled over, laughing so hard that tears had started at the corners of his eyes.
“Glad you’re all having a good time,” Ken muttered sourly to himself. And yet, as he walked over to retrieve his shirt from the corner of the room where someone, probably he himself, had thrown it, he found he really wasn’t all that annoyed. After all, as hazing went, this was pretty mild. It was a heck of a lot less obnoxious than scrubbing the bathroom floor with a toothbrush, or doing stair climbs with a mouthful of hot pepper sauce. As Ken buttoned his shirt, though, he was aware that his arm and hand still tingled with a vivid sense-memory of the smooth warm feel of Craig’s trim, tanned torso. “It can’t be sexual,” he thought, “I’m straight!” But it was a curiously pleasant and cozy feeling. The boy’s mind quickly shoved that thought down and away from his consciousness before it could become too troubling.
That night Ken had a very strange dream. At least, he was sure it had to be a dream, because it was too weird to be real. After the hilarity and ribbing had died down, and the hypnotist had departed, eventually the pledges were allowed to go to bed. Ken and his roommate Jason Latimer both were out like lights almost before their heads touched the pillows. At some point however, it seemed as though the door to the room had opened and he and Jason had been wakened by the voice of Brett Stuyvesant, the chapter president. “Pledges, up and at ’em! We want to hear the song.” This in itself wasn’t that unusual. It had happened several times before. But what made him sure it must be a dream was that Brett, and Jason’s big brother Aaron Gorlowski and Eric, who were both with him, were all stark naked, which was asunusual as things could get! In addition, both he and Jason (who, because of his cute, baby-faced looks and their unfortunately attractive effect on a certain element of the male population, was morbidly sensitive and gun-shy about anything that struck him as even a little bit gay), instead of being freaked out (as surely they would have been if any of it had really been happening?), simply got out of bed and began to sing.
Brett, however, held up his hand to hush them. “Not yet. We want all you pledges to sing it together, Come to the meeting room.”
Feeling oddly muzzy and half-asleep, Ken padded out of the room as instructed, Jason close on his heels. Neither of them had on any clothes either, which was another element of unreality. Ken knew he’d been wearing pajama bottoms when he went to bed. As the two boys neared the door of the room assigned to the other three pledges, Craig, Andrew Klein, and Matt Lindhurst, it opened and those young men exited the room, followed by their big brothers. They too were all completely naked, and their faces seemed blank and frozen, like zombies in a cheap horror flick, as they marched methodically towards the meeting room. “Christ, they look they’re in a trance,” Ken thought vaguely, not bothering to consider whether he and Jason might not look the same to them. It didn’t really matter in a dream, anyway, did it?
When they reached the meeting room, Ken felt someone’s hands - Brett’s? Eric’s? - on his shoulders maneuvering him into position. He was now standing between Jason and Matt in the row of pledges. They faced a table on the opposite side of which their big brothers and Brett were now taking seats.
When everyone was in place, Brett said “Okay, pledges, now give us the song.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, the five young men began to sing as instructed. Ken suddenly felt as though he’d had a major epiphany. It was as though he’d never really paid attention to the meaning of the song until this minute, even though he’d heard (and sung) it over and over for weeks. It was all about brotherhood, about service to one’s brothers and duty to the frat. Ken realized that there was nothing quite as important as that duty, that service! He’d do anything for his brothers. Anything! The boy’s face took on a sappy, vacant smile as he sang. God but he loved these guys!! He turned his head to look at Jason, and saw that his face wore the same goofy, delighted grin that Ken could feel on his own face. It seemed like the most natural, inevitable thing in the world to put his arms around Jason, to feel the same warm, cozy flesh-to-flesh sensation his body remembered from touching Craig in the show. And scarcely a breath later Ken could feel Matt’s arm snake around his waist. It felt terrific! Again, it had to be a dream, right? Were they still singing? It didn’t seem to matter much. All that mattered was getting closer to his brothers.
Over Jason’s shoulder, Ken could see that Craig and Andrew were embracing as well. And then suddenly their faces met, lips parted and then locked and they were kissing each other passionately. He heard a voice (was it someone talking, or was it in his own head?), “Go ahead and kiss him.” Ken felt as though his lips had suddenly become magnetized. The compulsion of Jason’s tender mouth was irresistible and he took possession of it at almost the same time he felt Matt’s mouth begin to explore the back of his neck. His rapidly hardening cock bumped against Jason’s answering hard-on, and Matt’s wood was poking randomly at his ass and lower back. Ken had never had an erotic dream that wasn’t heterosexual, so he wasn’t sure where this would go next, but it felt so right and good at the moment he just let himself go with it, fondling and kissing bare flesh wherever it presented itself as the five pledges writhed intimately together.
Just as the boys’ states of arousal reached the point where actual sex would have been inevitable, Brett commanded, “You’re ready now… Make your offering to the fraternity.”
Somehow Ken knew exactly what to do next. He and his pledge brothers returned to their positions standing at the table, each across from his big brother, and began to masturbate. The boy felt as though jerking off had never been this intense before. To be offering his essence to Eric, while at his side his beloved bros were doing the same for theirbig brothers, was the height of sexual attainment, and his orgasm, when it took him, was a transcendental experience.
Afterwards the pledges stood panting, their heads lowered in humble submission, great gouts of their cum on the table in front of them. Each big brother fed his boy a fingerful of the mixed emission with an almost sacramental solemnity, and then gentle hands led them back to their rooms.
As Ken got back into his bed, that voice spoke again. He still couldn’t be certain if it were real, or just in his mind. “Sleep and forget… it was only a dream.” His eyes and limbs were suddenly leaden. A dream… of course, it was only a dream… so sleepy… important to forget… to forget… what?... so-o-o-o sleepy…
Tom, smiling smugly to himself, closed the door of Ken and Jason’s room, to the soft sounds of their gentle snoring, and went to put the other pledges to sleep. Everything had worked exactly as he’d planned it. The handsome young men were well on their way to total hypnotic slavery, just like the active brothers. By the time they were initiated, the subliminals together with the deep trance programming he’d implanted this night would have rendered them all completely, helplessly obedient to his will. He was really looking forward to the initiation ceremony!