Case 2013/8-5: Johnny J. (hypno)

Disclaimer: This story is written for the enjoyment of consenting adults. If you are under the legal age for your community, you must quit this page NOW! If you object to subject matter concerning either erotic mind control or male/male sex, this isn’t for you, so rather than continuing to read and then taking offense, just leave. The rest of you, enjoy, and if you feel inspired, please write one of your own and post it. I like to read as well as write.

There was no question in anyone’s mind that Johnny Joyner was nothing more than trouble waiting to happen. Oh, not that he was an out-and-out hoodlum, nor a substance abuser (one look at his healthy, blemish-free face and body would tell you that), but the boy just had no brakes on his behavior. He was smart, arrogant, lazy, and invariably did whatever he felt like with no regard for anyone else, or for any consequences. He was, as we say in the south, wild as a rat from the day he was born, and if his parents had ever made any attempts at proper discipline, by this juncture they’d long given up on trying to exercise any control over Johnny-boy. It had only been a matter of time before one or another of his sketchy escapades landed him either in jail or where he was now, in my office. The scrape in question involved a physical relationship with a high-school girl, which, since Johnny is twenty-one, was thoroughly illegal if anyone chose to complain, and her parents did - vigorously. Now, having met the young lady (and I use the term a bit loosely) in question, I must say, in young John’s defense, that she neither looks nor, more to point acts, remotely like a naïve, inexperienced school-girl. In point of fact, the little skank has the habits and attitude of a horny divorcee, and a face, body, and personal style that almost anyone would place in the early 20’s age-bracket (or even older). Be that as it may, however, jailbait she was and is, and in addition to the restraining order he granted her parents, the judge gave Johnny a choice of prison time or court-ordered counseling/therapy. And so here he was, a handsome, cocky boy with a wary expression on his face, sitting in a chair in front of me waiting for me to begin our first interview.

I’m Madison Kearney, PhD. psychiatrist, psychologist, hypnotherapist. The county sends a lot of these hard-cases to me to sort out because my success rate is very high, particularly with young men. The courts and police think it’s because, as a young man myself (I’m only in my late twenties – the degrees were all earned very early and at light speed because, if I do say it, I’m really smart, a genius if you will), I can relate to them and their issues better, speak their language. I know it’s because I mind-control them! I have a fool-proof method of using drug-enhanced hypnosis and their own sex-drive (and what boy in his teens or twenties isn’t a complete slave to his cock and balls?) to render them absolutely incapable of resistance. And since I’m gay, I have a good time doing it! No need to involve expensive and potentially indiscreet sex-workers. But back to Johnny…

The boy seated in front of me was indeed good-looking – clean-shaven with short, neat blond hair, smoky grey-blue eyes with long lashes, handsome features in which you could see both boy and man (although the hostility in his expression somewhat marred their appeal), and a trim, athletic body. He had great legs, too. I couldn’t judge how much meat he was packing since the cargo shorts he was wearing were loose (and, like his shirt, ratty and not perfectly clean - Johnny J. obviously didn’t give a damn about making a good impression on me), but that didn’t dampen my pleased anticipation in the least.

“John Joyner, statutory rape, first criminal offense, unless you have a sealed juvenile record?” I looked at him inquiringly.

“Never been arrested before,” came the surly reply.

“Any drug use?”


I smiled like a shark. “Well, of course you would say that, but I’m afraid I’m not allowed to take your word for it. I know they tested you as matter of course when you were picked up, but unfortunately a lot of young men released to this program in the past have taken advantage of the means to get high after they’ve been officially cleared. I’ll need a blood sample, so roll up your sleeve. Better yet, just take your shirt off, because after I draw your blood, I’ll need to test your reflexes. You can keep your shorts on, because they won’t be in the way of testing your patellar and plantar reflexes, but you will need to take off your shoes and socks.”

As he grumpily followed those instructions, in the process revealing a very nice, well-defined, nearly-hairless chest, a trim six-pack abdomen, and last, healthy (and very sexy) pink feet, I busied myself preparing the needle and phial for his blood-work. Or, at least that’s how it looked. The syringe I was prepping is a very special one of my own invention. It does indeed draw blood samples for medical testing, but, at the same time, it also injects the first dose of my hypno-drug cocktail without the recipient being any the wiser. Johnny might not be a drug-user in the usual sense, but (under my careful supervision) he would be using some drugs very soon! With professional precision I applied the rubber tourniquet, found an excellent vein in his arm, swabbed it with alcohol and swiftly plied the needle, drawing a few ccs of his blood and simultaneously doping him.

Ouch!! Jesus, where’d you learn to do that? Veterinary School? That thing must have a square tip!” Johnny scowled at me.

“Sorry,” I said, with an obvious lack of sincerity. I removed the rubber tie and gave him a little cotton ball to catch the tiny droplet of blood at the injection site. “Just flex your elbow a couple of times and you won’t even feel it any more.” He did so, not coincidentally, pumping my drugs into his blood-stream. Now it was just a waiting game until they took effect.

I filled the time by sealing the blood sample for transport and then testing the boy’s reflexes as promised. They were all fine, so he probably hadn’t been lying about not using narcotics. Of course he still might be on steroids, but if that were the case, he’d likely be bulkier, and also he almost certainly wouldn’t have such clear, beautiful skin. I particularly enjoyed testing his plantar reflex, as that involved cradling his feet one at a time (I’m very fond of feet), running a probe down the sole, and then watching his toes automatically curl in response. Johnny has lovely toes. I longed to suck on them, but that would have to wait until later. Last of all, as Johnny was beginning to show the very first, faint signs that the medication was beginning to kick in (his breath-rate had slowed and deepened slightly, and his eyes were starting to show a tendency to track less immediately), I took out my pen-light “to test for eye dilation,” I told him. His eyes were dilated, all right, but that was my doing, not his.

I sat down across from him, the pen-light still in my hand as though I’d forgotten it, and began what seemed to be the meat of the interview – discussing what he was there for, and how we would be trying to accomplish it. It’s a speech I’ve prepared and learned as carefully as an actor studies his lines, although, of course it isn’t exactly a script because every part of it has to be adjustable to the timing and reactions of my subject. In the innocuous and even boring drone is embedded a wealth of NLP leading neatly into the induction as soon as the patient is sufficiently ensnared. And all the while I kept playing with the pen-light, tipping it from side to side, back and forth, back and forth, as slowly and regularly as the pulse of a relaxed heart-beat. My foot found the little button concealed under the carpet at my chair and pushed it. This would cause the lights to dim (so slowly as to be imperceptible).

As the room darkened, I could see that Johnny’s sluggish gaze had fixed on the soft glow of the pen-light and was now (and probably without his being aware of it) following it, back and forth, back and forth, almost without blinking. He was ready.

I moved the pen-light up to his eye level, and began to move it more widely still from side to side. Without any apparent reaction to the change his eyes continued to follow it back and forth, back and forth. I switched to a purposeful hypnotic induction.

“Johnny, you’re looking at the light… the light is beautiful… fascinating… you don’t want to look away… you can’t look away… it’s too beautiful, too fascinating… the light is important, Johnny… it can help you get whatever you want, whatever you need… you feel so good …” (there are euphorics in the drug cocktail, so he was definitely feeling good) “…but the light can make you feel even better if you let it… if you let yourself just relax and go with the light back and forth, back and forth… let the light relax your muscles…”

“Relax…?” It was still (just barely) a question rather than a mindless echo, but his eyes never left the penlight, and I could see his posture sagging more and more by the moment. He was well on his way to the total mental capitulation I was seeking.

“Yes, Johnny, relax… as you follow the light you can let all your muscles relax… first your heavy, sleepy feet and legs… then your limp, heavy arms… feeling better and better… so easy to relax and give in… now your back and your stomach… your chest… your neck…loose… limp… so-o-o comfortable… just watching the light and relaxing more and more with each breath… with each beat of your heart… back and forth… back and forth… relaxing… relaxing… and your mind relaxes too, Johnny… it relaxes as your world goes back and forth with the beautiful light… your thoughts simply drift away... your mind becomes too relaxed to hold them… no thoughts… mind empty and peaceful… nothing but the light and my voice… my voice is important, Johnny… you must follow my instructions if you want to feel good… you must obey my voice at all times… you have no will of your own… too relaxed and comfortable and happy to think… or question…”

Johnny was an inert lump, staring mindlessly at the light. He had no expression on his handsome face. The arrogance and petulance wiped from it completely and replaced by a hypnotized blankness. I continued to secure and deepen his trance, reinforcing how good he felt and how much he liked being in this state. The next session, he would be much more cooperative. I would still be using the drug mixture a while longer to ensure his maximum hypnotic susceptibility, but I’d no longer have to sneak it into him. He’d be most obliging about taking his meds. I also carefully installed a re-induction cue (“Johnny is a sleepy boy”) and made sure it was working properly – no need to waste the time hypnotizing him all over again each visit. Then, with the business taken care of, it was time for the fun.

The boy was proving to be well above the curve in hypnotic response, so I felt quite confident in proceeding to the next level of his training. “Johnny, you’re deeply hypnotized and under my complete control, but when I touch your shoulder, you will go a thousand times deeper.” I touched his shoulder and he sighed softly in response. His head fell forward helplessly to rest chin on chest. “Very good. Now, stand up and finish undressing.”

Johnny got up from his chair. He was moving very slowly, but I could tell it wasn’t conflict or resistance; he was just that relaxed. His strengthless fingers fumbled as they undid the waist-button on his cargo shorts, but once he’d managed to unfasten it, the baggy shorts were so loose that they slid right down off his hips without requiring the zipper to be opened. He sleepily stepped out of the fabric pooled at his feet and then pulled his underwear down and stepped out of it as well. Now that it was no longer masked by the damned shorts, I could see that he had a very nice uncut cock (my experienced eye put it at around six inches soft, which meant, anticipating normal erection-growth, he was very well-hung indeed) and lovely heavy balls. And his ass… gorgeous! I could hardly wait for my chance to fuck that tight, neat little butt, but that would be in a later session. As he is a straight boy, he’d need more and longer programming before he was ready for that. No, today was just ‘setting the hook’. My pleasure would wait. This time it was going to be all about his pleasure.

“Johnny, go lie down on the couch and look at the ceiling. You will see the light there going back and forth, back and forth, just as before. It will make you sleep deeper and deeper.” Like a sleepwalker or zombie the hypnotized boy obeyed. When he was flat on his back, I could see his eyes tracking back and forth, following the imagined light, just as instructed. “Excellent. No matter what may happen, you can’t stop following the light. You can’t take your eyes off of it.”

“While you lie here, watching the light go back and forth, back and forth, your body is feeling better and better… every inch of your skin is becoming more and more alive to pleasure… more and more sexually sensitive… you are becoming incredibly aroused… totally turned on… you can feel it happening, can’t you?”

“Yeah…” the helpless boy moaned lustfully. His cock began to swell and harden.

“Johnny, you can’t look away from the light… you won’t even think about who is touching you… you’ll just feel amazing pleasure and give yourself over to the enjoyment of it… When you are told to do so, and only then, you are going to have the best, strongest, longest-lasting orgasm you’ve ever had, and it will be so intense and so-o-o satisfying that you’ll will do anything, anything at all, to repeat the experience. And it will send you even deeper into your hypnotic trance. You understand, and you will obey.”

“I understand and I will obey…” It was thrilling to hear his voice, thick with arousal, echoing my command.

I leaned over and began to suck on his toes one at a time while I fondled his feet. They were every bit as delectable as I’d anticipated. The boy gasped, his toes curling and uncurling with pleasure, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the ceiling and the spot of light his hypnotized imagination was conjuring, so his squirming was minimal. Then I caressed my way up his legs and inner thighs until I was tickling the bottom of his ball-sac. His hips flexed spasmodically as he thrust his now totally rigid cock (which had grown to a very impressive thick eight-or-so inches) upwards seeking something to fuck. Before accommodating him (and, I’m a very experienced cock-sucker, so accommodation was not going to be a problem) I let my hands work their way up his smooth, muscular chest and played with his tender little nipples, which immediately contracted and hardened. By now, Johnny was moaning and gasping almost non-stop, and writhing on the couch as though in the midst of the fuck of his life, but his face continued to remain blank and rigidly focused on the ceiling, his eyes continued to track back and forth, back and forth.

Abandoning Johnny’s chest, I licked up and down his cock-shaft, savoring the taste of his drooling pre-cum (oh, it’s perfectly safe – among the many tests given to arrestees in this state, are those for STDs, and Johnny has none) and getting myself prepared for his dimensions. Then gobbling down his cock, I began to work my mind-fuck magic. I sucked and licked and swirled my tongue. Every now and then, I would release his dick to give him more suggestive reinforcement concerning how this was the best he’d ever had, but I always returned to the excellent (if I do brag about it) head I was providing him. After 10 or so minutes of this, Johnny was babbling and begging incoherently, every muscle on his studly body tense with passion. I decided to be merciful. Stepping away (hey, I was wearing one of my good suits!), I commanded, “Cum now, Johnny!”

The boy virtually exploded. His first spurt nearly reached the ceiling! And, just as suggested, he kept cumming and cumming, long after most young men (and, I imagine, he himself without hypnotic help) would have run out of energy. Finally he stopped thrashing and subsided, gasping, his expression growing even more vacant and hypnotized.

I cleaned the place up (and it took a while!) and then I said, “Johnny, that was the greatest sexual pleasure you’ve ever experienced. Repeat that.”

“That’s the greatest sexual pleasure I’ve ever experienced.” The formerly surly, cocky young man now sounded like a model student reciting an important lesson for his favorite teacher.

“You will not have any conscious memory of what has gone on. You won’t remember being hypnotized or anything that happened from the time I first showed you my pen-light, nor will you notice how much time has elapsed. You have never been hypnotized. Repeat that.”

“… I’ve never been hypnotized.” Johnny finished, word-perfect (and sounding as hypnotized as it is possible to be).

“But deep down in your unconscious mind, far deeper than your conscious thoughts can ever reach, you will remember this intense, unparalleled sexual pleasure, and you will long to feel it again and again. You will understand, at that level below consciousness or will, that as long as you come to these sessions and follow my instructions in all things, you can have this experience over and over. You will be eager to do so. Repeat that.”

As Johnny parroted back the instructions (once again with perfect accuracy and sincere commitment) I gather up his clothing. Then I said, “Get dressed and return to your seat in the chair, Johnny.” He obeyed (of course), and when he was once again clothed and seated, I continued, “I’ll count to three and you will be awake in your normal state of consciousness. Everything will be as I have ordered and you have agreed. One… two… three.”

Johnny blinked, and personality returned to his expression, but it wasn’t the same one as before. Now he looked much happier and friendlier. As though I had just completed the eye exam, I clicked off the pen-light and said, “Well, no dilation. I guess you are clean.”

Eagerly he piped up, “I told you I wasn’t using,” and grinned boyishly.

We scheduled our next appointment, which I was certain he’d keep religiously, and Johnny left my office whistling.

Over the next few months Johnny Joyner learned a lot about his own unconscious motivations and how not to be a victim of himself. He also (without ever remembering it) learned a lot about having sex with me. I had that perfect tight little ass many, many times, and believe me, Johnny is an amazing fuck. But, the bottom line (no pun intended – ok, pun intended, you got me!) is that I had a job to do, and my reputation (not to mention my opportunities to work with other cute, troubled studs like Johnny) depended on doing it effectively. All too soon, it was our last appointment. The Johnny Joyner who came to my office that final time was worlds apart from the one who’d been sent to me for court-ordered counseling. His attitude was upbeat. He was polite and well-spoken. His clothing wasn’t expensive, but it was clean and neat and, not to put too fine a point on it, dignified. He looked good, and he looked good in a way that would create a good impression with the people he met. He had a new, better job, and was doing it responsibly and well, and he was dating a lovely young lady, this time of his own age. I could chalk up another one in the success column.

Manfully he shook my hand, and, his voice almost breaking with emotion, said, “Thank you, Dr. Kearney. You saved my life. I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.”

“John,’ I told him, “You can thank me by making something of your life. You’re a fine man, and you deserve a future. So don’t waste it.”

Johnny impulsively hugged me, and then hurried from my office. I think he may even have been crying a little. I had a lump in my own throat.

But it went away quickly! In less than ten minutes I was expecting a new assignment to walk through my door. Adam Rodriguez is on his third strike as a compulsive shoplifter. But he’s no barrio desperado. Adam’s a spoiled (and messed-up) rich kid, whose parents managed through influence and the application of lots of money to wangle therapy for him instead of the jail sentence he’d so richly earned. But he’s also one hot little bastard. I can’t wait to get him on my couch!