The Emerald Stud (hypno)

Disclaimer: This is fiction (if the presence of supernaturals in it isn’t enough of a clue for you). There is no intentional resemblance between any of the characters depicted herein and anyone real. You know the rules: no one who is under the legal age of consent for their community is allowed to read this; nor is anyone who finds male/male and/or mind-control erotica distasteful. You can download it for your own pleasure as long as you don’t allow anyone in the above two categories to read it. You may not re-post it without my consent. Please, please, please, if you enjoy this, try your hand at writing one of your own!

It was my eighteenth birthday and I was a little drunk, which is not against the law here in Ireland. Okay, technically, I was a lot drunk. I had decided that, as a symbol of my official emancipation from the status of underage youth (and from my parents’ legal ability to micro-manage my life), I wanted a tattoo. Or a piercing. I was fuzzy as to which it would be. My football mates were all stinkin’ as well, so there was no voice of reason coming from that quarter. They were egging me on as I swaggered away from the pub in search of just the right establishment for my coming-of-age rebellion. In that Dublin neighborhood there were actually quite a number of them to choose from, but I finally settled on a smallish shop without too much store-front glitz about it. I’m not sure why; it just sort of appealed to me.

As the door closed behind me, I realized none of my mates had followed me in. Odd, but I supposed they were waiting to see if I’d white-feather it back out so they could razz me. No feckin’ way! I walked up to the proprietor, a very small, red-haired guy, with a face like the map of our dear auld Ireland (only twice as many lines), and said, “I’m thinkin’ about gettin’ a tattoo.”

“Are ye now, lad?” His brogue was even thicker than mine. “’Twould be a doleful shame to deface that pretty peaches n’ cream complexion with tacky ink. What a good-lookin’ boyo like yerself should have is an ear gem. The ladies will all take notice.”

As soon as he said that, somehow I found myself in agreement. A pierced ear would be just the ticket (and likely easier to defend to my soon-to-be-disapproving parents). But he had one point wrong. I didn’t care what the ladies thought. Surprised at my own drunken bravado (as I’d yet to come out to anyone), I heard myself say, “And how’s it do with the lads then?”

The old man, rather than looking shocked or offended, smiled as though he’d expected as much. “Aye, it works a treat with them as well. And I have just the thing for ye. It’s been waitin’ for ye to come in here for a long time.”

Huh? “What the feck are you talkin’ about?” I slurred. “You don’t know me from Adam’s off ox. And I’d never heard o’ this shop before this very moment. How could you have merchandise that’s been waitin’ for me?”

“Well, Brian Donnelly, perhaps not specifically for ye, but for one o’ yer blood. The particular jewel to which I was referrin’ can only be worn by one o’ the Fey, such as meself… or yerself.” He winked. “We’re more than a wee bit rare these days, what with havin’ interbred with humanity for so many centuries (and considerin’ as well how many of us, like yerself, have no interest in breedin’ at all, at all), but ye can be sure ye’ve enough o’ the old blood in ye or ye wouldn’t even have seen this shop, let alone been able to enter it.

The guy was obviously mad as a March hare. But wait, how in hell did he know my name?! Unless this was a birthday prank by my mates? Yeah, they were pullin’ the mickey on me. That had to be it. They were probably hidden somewhere in the back of the shop fallin’ all over themselves tryin’ not to bray like donkeys. I attempted to laugh in the old man’s face. That’s when I realized I couldn’t make a sound. Or move. Holy Shite!! If I’d been able to, I’d probably have peed me drawers. I was that scared.

“Calm down, lad,” the old leprechaun?, elf?, whatever-the-hell-he-was said soothingly. Instantly I felt my panic subside. “No harm shall come to ye. Now, step this way.” As if it had been of my own willing, my body obediently followed him into the back room and sat itself down in the barber’s chair that was there. It held itself still while he swabbed my earlobe with alcohol, iced it numb, and then carefully pierced it. I have to say, I was feeling no pain, and I’m not at all convinced it was just the Jameson’s I’d been enjoying so freely. There was real magic at work here!

He then fitted a stud into the hole and fastened it. “There now, lad, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he chuckled. I still couldn’t seem to move or respond. “We needn’t fret about pain or infection, because the gem won’t allow any such foolishness. This little jewel is yer birthright as one of us. It holds the power of the Sidhe within it. Ye can’t remove it, and so long as ye exist it will bring ye youth, health, wealth, and luck. It makes ye attractive to everyone. Anyone who looks at it closely will automatically do or give ye whatever ye want them to. It gives yer will the power to affect yer local reality to a certain extent. Ye can become invisible. Or change yer appearance.” Suddenly the old man was gone, and in his place stood a tall, incredibly, unnaturally handsome young man. “This is how I look in the realm of Faerie, so I suppose you could say this is my ‘real’ appearance, although, as you are now aware, such a concept isn’t particularly meaningful.” His brogue had vanished along with the little-old-man disguise. “However,” and the grinning leprechaun was back again, “I find this aspect to be a tad more believable in this locale. Now let’s take a look at yerself.” He stepped back a pace. “Faith, ye’ve turned out very well indeed. I believe ye’ll find that the emerald suits ye. It brings out the green o’ yer eyes.” He held out a mirror to me.

I found I was able to move again, and took it from him. When I looked at my reflection, I gasped aloud.

Now, I will admit that I’ve always been decent to look at. I’m what you call black Irish, so no red hair or freckles. Instead, I have wavy coal-black hair and fair, unblemished skin (my best feature) that shows five-o’clock shadow by two o’clock. My eyes are a kind of non-descript grey/hazel, and my features are regular and adequately proportioned. Like I said, decent – not handsome, just decent. And footie has given me a trim, if unspectacular body.

But the boy looking back at me in the mirror was anything but merely passable! He was stunning! It was still me, but a version of me refined and amped up to a ridiculous degree of hotness. This new Brian Donnelly had my features, but they were now supported by a bone-structure that would have suited a fashion model. His eyes were a sparkling, clear green that did indeed almost match the green of the little jeweled stud in my earlobe, and his lashes were easily twice as long and thick as mine had been. His lips were a little fuller than mine, and had a slight (and, I have to say, really sexy) pout to them. His hair was perfect – a little longer than I’d been wearing it, but impeccably styled, and with such a rich, lustrous sheen to it that he could have endorsed hair-care products. Cautiously I tilted the mirror a little. The new, improved torso was not so much different from the old. I hadn’t been transformed into a hyper-muscled titan. But the shoulders were slightly broader, the v-shape was a touch more pronounced, and all the muscles seemed just a little bigger and better defined (or else my shirt had shrunk!). And looking away from the mirror and down my body I could see that, although my powerful, football-toned legs hadn’t altered (they’d already been as good as could be), my trousers definitely fitted at the crotch in a whole new and intriguing way! It was amazing! It was too amazing.

“What am I goin’ to do?” I moaned. “I can’t be seen on the street like this. Anyone who knows me will have an apoplexy! The lads on the team will think they’ve lost their minds.” I frantically tried to remove the stud from my ear, but the leprechaun was right; it wouldn’t come undone. As a matter of fact it felt as if it had actually grown to be a part of me. The gem and metal still felt only like gem and metal to my fingertips, and yet they also seemed to be connected to my nervous system. I could feel my own touch as I touched the jewel!

“Don’t agitate yourself, boyo. Only one o’ us can recognize the glamour or penetrate it. They’ll all believe ye’ve always looked this way (or any other way ye decide to change yerself to look). Now go on with ye! Finish celebratin’ yer birthday as befits a true son o’ the auld sod!” And with that he vanished completely.

In a daze I stumbled to the door, wondering if, as in the old tales, upon returning to the outside world I’d find myself in a different century than when I’d gone into the shop. However, the night was the same one, and my drunken teammates were still hanging about on the pavement.

“Took you long enough, mate.” Niall Malone, our goalkeeper and my best mate, was seldom patient except in the net. “What did you get, Brian… and where on your arse did they put it?” he snickered. Wordlessly I pointed to the emerald stud in my earlobe. Niall’s handsome face twisted with disgusted pity. “Well you’ve made a bloody balls-up of it! That’s the poof side! With your pretty face, you’re gonna have the feckin’ shirt-lifters buzzin’ around you like flies on sheepshite!”

Well, after the weirdness of what I’d just experienced, I was in a reckless enough mood that I decided to try out my new “present” and bugger-all for the consequences. I stepped forward into Niall’s personal space. He tried to back away, but I grabbed him (and the new version of my body was more than strong enough to keep him in place). “Take a good look, Niall. All you yobboes take a good look,” I said mock angrily. My sheepish teammates humored my apparent temper. I waited until they’d all filed by and each had a close look at the ear-stud and then I said, “It looks just fine. It’s on that side because I am a shirt-lifter, and none of you has a problem with that. Do you.” It wasn’t a question, and evidently the magic worked, because they all muttered somewhat shame-facedly that, of course they didn’t have a problem with it – I was their mate. “All right, then. No more about it. Let’s go find us another round.” We wove, a laughing, unsteady crew, into the next pub and the party recommenced.

I don’t clearly remember much after that. I think one of the barmaids was coming on to me pretty strong (quite the novelty for me in this company as, always before, I had been completely eclipsed by the likes of handsome Niall or Sean and Seamus, the lively Ferguson brothers). As I wasn’t interested in any barmaid, I think I managed to palm her off on one or another of them. At any rate, I woke up the next morning in my own bed alone. Much to my surprise, I felt terrific. I had no trace of a hangover. Apparently being one of the Fair Folk has its privileges!

The following Saturday after our game, we were all changing and showering up in the locker room. As often happened in this situation when I was surrounded by my half-clothed or totally nude teammates, I was fantasizing about them, there being no penalty in thinking (or looking as long as I didn’t get caught at it). My daydreams on this occasion concerned Sean and Seamus. They’re blond, blue-eyed, slim, hard-bodied, and super handsome in a cute, boyish way, and they look so much alike that they might as well be twins (even though they aren’t – Seamus is my age, Sean’s a year older). I was thinking about how hot it would be to have a three-way with them (or even just to watch while they got it on with each other), when suddenly the room was filled with a weird green glow. It looked as though we were all under water. In the mirror I could see that it was coming from the emerald in my ear-stud which was blazing like a torch light. The lads had all stopped stock-still in the midst of whatever they’d been about, their faces completely blank. Even the water drops in the showers were suspended motionless in mid air. The silence was total. Holy Shite, what’d I done?!!

I was frantically trying to figure out how to undo whatever the hell enchantment I’d just unknowingly cast, when Sean and Seamus, who’d been frozen in the process of dressing (they both had their socks and underwear back on and Seamus had been buttoning up his shirt, while Sean was still bare-chested) suddenly came out of their stasis. Moving like sleepwalkers, they absently removed the garments they’d just donned. Then, when both brothers were once again fully naked, they padded slowly over to where I was standing, their expressions dreamily vacant. Sean and Seamus stopped right in front of me. Then Seamus pulled a totally cooperative Sean into his arms and began to kiss him thoroughly. I gaped in total shock as the two straight brothers snogged each other, just as I’d been imagining moments before. Even as the passion of their actions intensified, they remained eerily silent. In spite of my near panic, my cock was hard almost instantly; they were that hot!

Then Sean turned his lovely, empty gaze to me and motioned for me to join them. Well, either I was in the process of losing my remaining sanity, or I was about to have the sexual encounter of my dreams, and since I didn’t feel it was really a matter of my choice as to which of those two possible cases it might be, I decided to have faith that I wasn’t mad, and go for the sex over insanity. I stepped into Sean’s embrace and he started kissing me as passionately as he’d been kissing his brother a moment before. The skill of his lips and tongue were amazing. Seamus, for his part, knelt and began to suck on my cock, his mouth equally adept, although I can’t imagine where he would have learned how. Between the two of them, these handsome, spellbound young bucks had me moaning like a whore and hotter than a pistol in no time. Just when I thought I could stand no more, Sean abandoned my mouth. He spat on his hand and began to work his moistened fingers in and out of his arsehole. Then he turned and bent over to present to me the most perfect, hard-muscled little arse I can conceive of. The loosened hole almost seemed to wink at me. Truth be told, I’d yet to have a real toss with anyone, but my instincts apparently knew what to do. I grabbed his slim hips, planted the head of my cock, and drove on in. Other than one gasped intake of breath, Sean didn’t flinch, and his spellbound expression didn’t alter. He shifted his stance slightly for better leverage and then his insides began to milk me like a professional dairymaid wearin’ silk gloves. I thrust in and out in a sex-crazed frenzy. In the meantime, Seamus had switched to sucking off his older brother while wanking himself like a madman. It didn’t take long (or, maybe it did, in this bizarre pocket-outside-of-time) and then we all came together, me, howling like a banshee, the two of them still absolutely silent. Cum was everywhere – Sean’s all over Seamus’ handsome, blank face and dripping out of his pretty pink lips, Seamus’ all over his bother’s legs and both our feet, mine oozing out of Sean’s stretched arsehole as I withdrew. I slumped forward onto Sean’s broad, muscular back, almost unable to stand, gasping as though I’d run a marathon. So this was what real sex was like! Jaysus!!

Trembling, I forced myself back to an upright position. Sean, freed of my weight also straightened back up, and Seamus rose to his feet. Without another glance at me, the two brothers shambled back to their places at the lockers like a pair of hypnotized zombies. They methodically began to put their clothes back on, completely ignoring the cum that was still all over them. That was going to be hard to overlook when they came back to themselves… if they came back to themselves. I realized I still had no idea how to undo this whole unnatural state of affairs. But, as soon as Sean and Seamus were once again as clothed as they had been before, they froze in (as far as I could remember) exactly the same positions they been frozen in previously, and at that moment the green glow vanished and the room returned to normal. The lads all continued with their showering and dressing, bantering as usual. There was no sign of cum anywhere to be seen (or smelled), and, if the nonchalance of the Ferguson brothers was anything to go by, I was the only one of us three who remembered having just had a mind-blowing orgasm. The only indication that it wasn’t all in my overwrought imagination was from Niall. As I shakily finished dressing he asked, “Brian, you feelin’ all right, mate? You’re all flushed. D’you have a fever?” In an uncharacteristically gentle show of concern, he touched my forehead. “No, you’re cool enough.”

“I guess I stayed in the hot shower too long,” I said. Whoo, I had a lot to think over.

And think I did. As impossible as it seemed, I had to accept that the emerald stud was magical. (The alternative explanation, that I was right round the twist and hallucinating, simply wasn’t productive to pursue.) Apparently it responded to my thoughts and made things happen, but, thank the good Lord, it obviously didn’t latch on to every single thought that crossed my mind. How did I control which ones and when? Bloody hell, I needed an owner’s manual! Well, lacking an instruction book, my only recourse was experimentation.

First, I reasoned, I’d had my magic-precipitated dalliance with Ferguson brothers because, at least at the time, I was thinking about my fantasy of them pretty intensely. In truth, Sean and Seamus would not have been my first choice(s) if I had been consciously seeking a sex partner – that honor belongs to Niall – but in the heat of the moment, seeing their naked, almost-twin bodies in the shower had grabbed my libido pretty hard. As a test, I thought about Mr. O’Ryan, the young barrister who lives in the flat downstairs from my family’s apartment. He’s cute enough in a buttoned-down kind of way, I suppose, and, I’m mostly sure he’s gay. But he’s not my type at all, so imagining him coming upstairs to present himself for my pleasure was a purely academic exercise. If he did show up, I wouldn’t really want to do anything except send him on his way again. And the emerald stud didn’t light up in response, nor, after a good fifteen minute wait, had Mr. O’Ryan knocked on the door. Apparently I couldn’t fool the magic.

Next, I thought, “I wonder how I’d look with red hair.” Nothing. The image staring back at me in my mirror was unchanged. Then, I thought, “I want to have red hair!” and really concentrated on the wanting. Instantly I was a ginger! I looked horrible!! Before that thought had even fully registered my hair was once again black. Whew!

From then on I practiced, learning how to access the proper frame of mind that would make the magic deliberately instead of by accident. It was hard work, but by the end of the week, I was becoming more reliable. I decided I might be ready to make my play for my best mate. But I knew I didn’t want Niall to be just a passing sexual adventure like the Fergusons, because I didn’t merely fancy him; I was in love with him. A single dream encounter outside of reality, like the one with Sean and Seamus, or even several for that matter, wouldn’t be enough. I wanted him to be mine, in this reality! So I needed a plan.

Oddly enough, it was the unreality of my dream dalliance with the Ferguson lads that finally gave me an idea. I remembered how they themselves had seemed to be in a dream, their expressionless faces reminding me of the people on stage the one time I’d seen a hypnosis show at the theatre. What would happen if, instead of just wishing Niall into my bed, I made myself able to hypnotize or put a spell on him? Could I make him fall in love with me?

After a little research on line, I thought I knew enough of the basic drill to imitate the process of hypnotizing. And I was willing to bet that the magic would be able to deal with those fiddly issues of insusceptibility or moral objection that all the sites claimed made hypnosis such an ineffective tool for seduction. Concentrating as hard as I had ever done in my life, I imagined/wished/desired to become an irresistibly powerful hypnotist, able to dominate Niall’s will no matter how he might struggle against it. I was concentrating so hard that, without thinking, I’d closed my eyes, and so I didn’t see whether or not the emerald had come to life, but as I opened them again, I had the distinct feeling that something was different. I quickly went to the mirror. There were no outward changes to my appearance (other than the extraordinary ones that had already occurred when I first received the stud), but as I met my own eyes in the mirror, I had an indefinable sense of something about my focused stare that I can only describe as power. No one would be able to break away from that gaze unless I let him!

I invited Niall to drop by that weekend. My folks were on holiday, so we’d have the flat to ourselves. Of course that meant nothing special to him, since he knew nothing of my ulterior motives. I had poured us each a pint, and we sat watching a match on the telly until I faked a flinch and began to blink furiously.

“Jaysus, feels like I have a bloody boulder in me eye! Be a good lad and look if you can see anything.”

Suspecting nothing, Niall innocently peered into my eyes. “Sorry, mate, I don’t see anything. Do you still feel it?”

I summoned the power and the room went green as my emerald began to glow. “Keep looking into my eyes, Niall,” I commanded, and his gaze remained locked with mine. “Look deeper and deeper into my eyes… feel yourself falling into them… falling irresistibly deeper and deeper… Your thoughts, your will, drawn into the depths of my eyes and away from you… your thoughts far, far away, lost in my eyes… your will far, far away, lost to you… I own your thoughts… I own your will… You are completely hypnotized and in my power… You can’t think… You can’t resist or question… You must believe and obey me… believe and obey… You will only think what I tell you to think, only do what I tell you to do, only be what I tell you to be.” Niall’s handsome face had lost all expression. He stared rigidly into my eyes without blinking. And I have to say, that in itself was sexy as hell! I wondered if I were becoming a hypno-fetishist. I continued, somewhat breathlessly, “You are gay, Niall... a poofter, a shirtlifter… you only find men attractive sexually… only men can get you hot and hard… you love sex with men. Say it.”

“I love sex with men.” He sounded like a robot.

I made him repeat that a number of times and then went on, “And the handsomest, sexiest, most desirable man you’ve ever known is your mate, Brian O’Donnelly… you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone… You need him as you need the air you breathe… you feel the deepest emotional connection with him… you are madly in love with Brian Donnelly. Say it!”

“I’m madly in love with Brian Donnelly.” I made him repeat that a number of times as well. There was no hint of resistance, but also no passion. Niall might have been reciting the times table. I wasn’t worried, however. He’d heat up quickly enough once I roused him from his trance!

“From now on, your greatest desire, and your sole purpose, is to make Brian your lover. Now I will count you down from three to one, you’ll close your eyes and go into a deep, deep sleep for two minutes, after which you’ll wake back up into your normal consciousness. You won’t remember anything about my having hypnotized you. Everything I told will be absolutely true to you, and, as far as you are aware, always has been true. If at any time I say to you, ‘Trance time for you, Niall Malone’, you will instantly once again be under deepest hypnosis, even deeper than you are now, completely enslaved and obedient to me. Nod if you understand.” His head waggled solemnly. “Three… two… one and sleep!” Niall’s beautiful eyes slammed shut and he was out.

As the light of my emerald stud dimmed, and the room lost its green glow, I pulled the sleeping lad’s relaxed, unresisting body over so that his head rested in my lap, and then simply waited in cozy bliss as the moments of enchanted slumber passed. After two minutes Niall stirred. His eyes fluttered and then opened lazily. I tenderly stroked his forehead. “Back with us are you, boyo? You must have had a roughish night last night, or at least a late one. You were out like a light.”

“I don’t know what came over me… couldn’t keep me eyes open.” He winked, “But as for me night, ’twas neither late nor strenuous.” Niall stretched luxuriously, smiling contentedly up at me, but he made no effort to remove himself from my lap. However, as I stared down at him, once more marveling at how handsome he is, his expression took on a greater intensity. It was that expression which I think all men and women recognize, either from experience or instinctively: Niall wanted to kiss me.

Seeing him look at me that way, after longing for it so fruitlessly until now, virtually put me in a sexual trance of my own. Without consciously deciding it, I found my face descending to his, our mouths drawn together as surely as two magnets find each other. As our lips met, I closed my eyes in ecstasy, and from then on it was pure sensation. Niall’s breath was sweet and lightly flavored with the beer we’d been drinking, his lips were soft and sensual, his tongue teasing yet insistent. His hands caressed the back of my neck, sending lightning-bolts of excitement down my spine and, it seemed, directly to my cock, which was stiff as a poker. Niall obviously was aware of that, as his head still rested in my lap. He gently nudged my erection with the back of his head, making me gasp with delight.

In the next instant we were both on our feet, tearing off our clothing as desperately as though it were aflame. Then, naked as the day we came into this world, we were back in each other’s arms, Niall’s cock, every bit as hard as my own, rubbing and jousting against me as we grappled and groped in our passionate frenzy. Even in the extreme heat of the moment, something inside me was registering how right this was; how ideally Niall’s body fit with mine; how perfectly the moves of our love-making coordinated, how utterly completed I felt.

I sank to me knees and drew his rod into my mouth. Niall was so aroused that he barely had time to groan a warning before he exploded, baptizing my face and chest with his hot cum.

As soon as he caught his breath, he began to apologize, but I was having none of that! “Trance time for you, Niall Malone!” I cried, and instantly he was once again a motionless statue. “My lovely boy, we’ll have plenty of time this weekend to do all that two lads can do for or to each other, so don’t you fret about it.” His frozen, hypnotized expression was just as titillating to me as before. I ordered him to lie back down on the sofa and then proceeded to wank myself against his face until his face and chest were anointed as thoroughly as mine. Then I commanded, “When I snap my fingers you’ll be awake again, and the first thing you will do is to kiss me. Our cum will mix together and it’ll be like a sacrament to you; like a wedding. You’ll be mine forever, Niall Malone!”

I snapped my fingers, and, without a moment’s hesitation, Naill was kissing me thoroughly, our juices mixing and smearing. Then, gazing solemnly into my eyes he said, “I love you, Brian Donnelly.”

Tears of joy sprang to my eyes as I answered, “I love you too, Naill Malone,” and the room again went green as the emerald stud cemented our vows.