Johnny and the Psychology Pool

(A Sequel to 'Sleepy Boy')

Disclaimer: You must be of legal age for your community in order to read this. You should not read it if erotic hypnotism or male/male sex offends you (although, if that’s the case, why are you looking for reading matter here in the first place?). You may not continue if your community forbids access to this kind of material. It’s fiction, so any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. You’ll probably enjoy this more if you’ve read “Sleepy Boy” first. With that out of the way, I hope you do enjoy it. And try writing one of your own.

I. Johnny and Danny

Life sucks!! Johnny Miller couldn’t remember ever feeling more frustrated or depressed. Here he was, with only one semester left on his Master’s degree, and the only thing standing between him and a berth at a great school for his doctoral work, was obtaining a good recommendation from the psychology department Chair, Dr. Thurman, who, for some reason, seemed to hate his guts. It couldn’t be the grades, since Johnny’s were perfect. It couldn’t be his performance in his job as a teaching assistant; his evaluations were great and the kids all liked him (some of them maybe too much – Johnny was as handsome as a younger Brad Pitt in one of the actor’s more clean-cut roles - but he’d always managed to handle those crushes both kindly and honorably). It couldn’t be personal as far as he could guess; Dr. Thurman and he had never had anything more than the most limited (and polite) contact, since Johnny’s area of specialization had nothing to do with Thurman’s, so he’d never taken any of the doctor’s classes. And besides, Johnny thought, “I’m a nice guy! People don’t just take a dislike to me for no reason!” The only thing he could think of to attribute the situation to was that his ex-girlfriend and principal rival in the program, that smarmy, prissy, simpering, candy-assed bitch, Cynthia MacArdle, was using her much friendlier relationship with the professor to poison his opinion.

And now, his one chance to redeem himself in Dr. Thurman’s eyes was more likely to prove the last nail in his coffin instead. He had been assigned (and he was afraid it might have been with Cynthia’s collusion) to hypnotize the entire experimental pool of undergraduate volunteers, so as to determine which were good enough subjects for one of Thurman’s projects, and which were the unhypnotizables suitable to serve as controls. Unfortunately, Johnny was (as Cynthia knew very well) a lousy hypnotist. He didn’t understand why. He was intelligent, patient, knowledgeable about the techniques and principles involved, and he had a very nice, soothing voice. Also, he understood exactly what it felt like to go into and to be in a trance. Johnny was one of the best hypnotic subjects on the planet. In his own undergraduate career, he’d been the star of the experimental pool. (He sometimes even suspected that old Dr. Mortenson, who ran the volunteer program at the university where he’d gotten his undergraduate degree, might have slipped in a sneaky post-hypnotic suggestion during his own test-induction, since he had found himself agreeing to take part in virtually every experiment the department proposed.) But in spite of all his experience and training, Johnny just couldn’t get other people to go under. He constantly misread their reactions, mistimed his responses, and, one way or another sabotaged his every attempt. He was going to crash and burn! Damn it!! And Cynthia would be there to laugh, because she was thoroughly competent at hypnotism (as she had proved on Johnny when they were still dating). Life sucks!!!

Immersed in these black thoughts, it took a few moments for Johnny to notice that one of the freshman psych students had fallen in beside him as he walked. When he finally registered the presence of the kid, an engaging, dark-haired boy – something Sullivan, uh… oh yeah, Danny - Danny Sullivan, Johnny just said brusquely, “What?”

“I just wondered what was the matter,” Danny said. “You look like they just told you it was incurable.” He smiled lightly at his own joke, but his smile faded as Johnny stared a hole through him. The boy turned first red, then white and began to stammer, “Shit! You’re… you’re not really sick are you? Christ, I’m such an asshole!”

Danny’s distress was so genuine that Johnny had to relent. “No, I’m not sick. I’m just in a very bad mood.” By way of apology, he found himself explaining his predicament to the kid, who turned out to be a good listener.

By the time Johnny finished his explanation, Danny was grinning from ear to ear. “I know just what you should do!” he said excitedly. “There’s this really cool hypnotist who also does hypnotherapy. His name’s Tom LeBlanc, and he’s a friend of mine. He entertained at my cousin Steve’s bachelor party. You should get him to give you some pointers. I could introduce you, and I’m sure he’d be willing to help.” Seeing Johnny’s extremely dubious expression, he continued quickly, “No, no, he’s really good! Steve wasn’t cooperating worth a darn, and he still had him under in less than two minutes, deep enough for a posthypnotic suggestion that lasted all night. And he made the best man suck his thumb like a baby,” Danny couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, “Even while he was trying to hit on the stripper! Why, I’ll bet if you let him hypnotize you, he could even stop you from messing up your hypnotizing. At the very least he ought to be able to tell you what you’re doing wrong.” He looked at Johnny expectantly.

The kid was as cute as a puppy begging for a walk. Johnny laughed in spite of himself. “Okay, okay! Give him a call and see if he’ll talk to me. Heck, I can’t do worse than I’m doing now.” Since Johnny was not at all in the habit of checking out other guy’s baskets, he never noticed the hard-on that Danny had developed (as he was programmed to do) while speaking about the hypnotist, and so he had no warning that he was becoming involved with anything more than an over-eager freshman with a touch of hero worship.


“Hello. LeBlanc Hypnosis.”

“Hello, Tom? This is Danny Sullivan. I met you at my cousin’s bachelor party?”

“Oh yes, Danny. What can I do for you?”

“I have this friend, Johnny Miller. He’s a teaching assistant in the psychology department here at _________ State.” Danny went on to describe Johnny’s dilemma finishing, “Do you think you might be willing to help him?”

“Oh, I think I might be able to do something useful with your friend. Is he there with you?”

“No. I’m calling from my folk’s house. Nobody’s here but me. But I could get him over there any time you can talk to him.”

“See if he could meet with me here this Saturday afternoon, sleepy boy!”


“Do you hear me, Danny?”

“Yes.” The voice had lost all inflection.

“You’re deep in trance and ready to do anything I tell you, aren’t you?”


“When you bring Johnny to meet me, I want you to come into the house with him. As soon as you cross the threshold, you will instantly be deeply hypnotized. You will be ten times more deeply in trance than you have ever been before. But you won’t allow it to show. You’ll be very careful to behave exactly as though you were still awake and in your normal consciousness, except, of course, that you will be under my complete control.” Tom knew that he would have to be careful of his language during that session, at least until he also had control of Johnny, or he might inadvertently cause Danny to do something that would give the game away. But then, Tom loved these little challenges. “When I have dealt with Johnny Miller’s problem, I may ask you to act as a practice subject for him. You will cooperate, and go into deep trance easily and quickly, according to his instructions, so that we can build up his confidence. You’re going to obey all his commands, just like the excellent hypnotic subject you are, unless they conflict with mine. I will always have the ultimate control. Do you understand all this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When I hang up the phone, you’ll be wide awake, with no memory of anything about this conversation except that I agreed to see your friend this Saturday afternoon.” Click.  Danny broke the already dead connection, and then dialed Johnny’s cell-phone to give him the good news.

Under other circumstances, Tom might have been inclined to use that serendipitous phone call to arrange an immediate rendezvous with Danny. After all, he’d only had the kid once, so far. But in this case, Brett and a sexy Latino fraternity pledge named Angel (a new subject whom Brett had persuaded to come to Tom for help quitting smoking) were already naked on the hypnotist’s couch, deep in trance and energetically sixty-nining in a mindless hypno-orgy. “Yes, Saturday would be soon enough to meet with Danny and the psych boy,” Tom thought as he unbuttoned his fly and went to join them.

Johnny wasn’t exactly optimistic as he and Danny drove to Tom’s house that Saturday. He really didn’t see what someone who did hypnotism for parties (he had a hard time not sneering at that image) could possibly have to tell him that he hadn’t already studied and considered, but at this point he was so desperate that he would have been willing to give even a voodoo witchdoctor a shot. So here they were. It was an impressive house. A good sign, Johnny thought. Tacky or not, the hypnotist was at least successful.

When Tom answered the door and Danny made introductions, Johnny’s expectations took another nose-dive. The guy couldn’t be much older than Johnny himself, and his dark, theatrically good looks made it even harder to take him seriously. “Christ,” Johnny thought ruefully, “He looks more like a frat-rat than a therapist! This is hopeless.” But, ever well mannered, he reached for the hypnotist’s right hand, held out to shake.

Tom, however, gently grasped Johnny’s wrist with his left hand, and raised it to a position near Johnny’s face, pointing at the palm with his right forefinger, and saying in a soft yet compelling voice, “Look at your hand. Notice all the color changes, the variations of light and shadow that occur in your palm. Observe the lines and creases. You will find it fascinating how they lead, one to another, as you allow your arm to drift down… slowly down… And as your arm drifts down… with automatic, unconscious movements… your eyes begin to feel heavy… heavier and heavier… and they close… Enjoy the delicious relaxation… take your time… (You will forget your name until I touch your shoulder)… and when your hand has drifted all the way down to rest in mine…  feel a sense of contentment… and return.” Tom grasped Johnny’s hand as it finished its descent, completing the artfully interrupted handshake, and, his voice returning to a more everyday inflection, said, “Tom LeBlanc. Pleased to meet you… ?”

Johnny opened his mouth to reply, and was astounded to discover that he couldn’t think of his name. He stood for one frozen moment, his jaw still hanging, trying to imagine how this could possibly have happened, and then, as Danny exploded into giggles next to him, the light dawned. “You hypnotized me?! Right out here on the doorstep, and I didn’t even realize you were doing it?! Unbelievable!!” He stared at the hypnotist in awe.

Tom started to laugh, too. “Well, when I opened the door you were positively bristling with skepticism. I had to do something to establish my credibility! You, by the way, are a virtuoso subject, my lad; it wouldn’t have worked with just anybody. Oh, and one more thing…” he tapped Johnny’s shoulder, “Tell me your name.”

“John Miller,” said Johnny, relieved to find his name back where it belonged again, “My friends call me Johnny. I really need your help.”

“Danny told me all about your situation,” said Tom. “Come on in, and we’ll see what I can do.”

The two young men followed the hypnotist into his home. Had he been watching, Johnny might have noticed the other boy pause in mid-step and go blank as he stepped over the threshold, rather like an animatronic figure experiencing a brief power failure. However, Johnny was already deep in discussion with his host, and the now thoroughly hypnotized Danny had returned to a completely normal appearance by the time Tom turned to him and said, “Go out to the refrigerator and get yourself something to drink if you’d like. Make yourself comfortable while your friend and I work. We’ll come get you when we’re done.” Obediently Danny trotted off to then kitchen, safely out of the way of accidentally overheard suggestions, and Tom led his new victim to his study.

After questioning Johnny exhaustively about his previous failed attempts at hypnotizing, and about the theory and techniques of hypnotism in general, Tom said, “All right, Johnny, the first thing I need to know is exactly how you go about hypnotizing someone, step by step. Pretend that I’ve come to you to be hypnotized, and go through your induction for me.” The young man launched into a textbook version of classic progressive relaxation. Tom, although he was careful not to allow himself to actually go into trance, imitated the symptoms. He found that Johnny, in almost every instance, moved too quickly to the next step. Tom’s respiration was still fairly rapid, yet Johnny was already past the deep-breathing suggestions; Tom’s eyes hadn’t even begun to flutter, but the boy was already suggesting eye closure; and so on. However, when the hypnotist explained to Johnny that he wasn’t giving his subject enough time to react, and that he needed to pay more attention to the effect of his suggestions, and not just the framing of them, the young man stared at him, mystified.

“But you were reacting! I didn’t suggest that your eyes were going to close until you were blinking practically every couple of seconds!”

Tom knew that this was absolutely not the case, but Johnny’s protestations were so obviously sincere that the hypnotist began to have a different kind of suspicion about the cause of the kid’s problem. “Try it again, please.” This time, as Johnny went through his induction spiel, Tom timed his reactions to keep pace with the suggestions. He made it seem as though he were successfully going into a trance. However, well before an actual subject would have been under, Johnny accidentally knocked a stack of papers off the desk with his elbow in a flurry of sound, and uttered a muffled curse, totally breaking the mood and the spell.

“Has this sort of thing happened other times when you were working with a subject?” Tom asked.

“More often than I like to admit,” Johnny answered ruefully. “I guess I’m just clumsy.”

“But are you that clumsy anywhere else?”

Johnny looked startled. “You know, you’re right! I lettered in tennis, I’m a pretty good dancer, and I can play a mean guitar. Normally I’m not clumsy at all! Do you think it’s the fear-of-failure thing? Some kind of mental block?”

“Hmmm… maybe. Tell me more about this Cynthia MacArdle. You say you two used to date, that she has, in the past, hypnotized you, and that she’s now both hostile and your most serious competitor?”

“That’s right!” Johnny saw immediately what Tom was getting at. “You think she’s fucked with my unconscious mind to make me fail? Christ, I’ll fuckin’ kill that bitch!!” It was a good measure of his distress that the normally polite young man would use that kind of language in front of someone he’d just met.

“I don’t know if that’s the case or not, although it would explain quite nicely why a normally capable fellow such as yourself becomes so suddenly and atypically inept. But if that is what’s going on, Cynthia certainly isn’t going to confess it to you. The only way to find out for certain would be to let me put you into deep trance and see if I find any booby-traps. Do you want to try? Will you let me hypnotize you again?”

Pale with anger, Johnny growled, “Go for it!” and flung himself down on Tom’s therapy couch. Because of his agitation, it took rather longer than usual for Johnny to relax enough for Tom’s suggestions to begin to take effect, but within ten minutes or so, the hypnotist’s quiet voice had become the focus of his world, and he plummeted into the deepest somnambulistic state. Under Tom’s careful questioning the story emerged.

To Cynthia’s partial credit, although she had indeed jinxed Johnny, she hadn’t originally planted the negative conditioning maliciously with the idea of sabotaging him. It had been done while they were still dating, the first time he allowed her to hypnotize him. They had an agreement (which she carefully made him forget) to practice on each other. Cynthia had just been afraid that Johnny’s gifts as a hypnotist would put her in jeopardy, so when she had him in her power, she had simply launched a preemptive strike against becoming hypnotically vulnerable herself. She had removed his ability as well as most of his interest in the subject. From her point of view it had been both practical (because of his exceptional talent for being hypnotized) and eminently sensible. It was exactly this tendency towards manipulation and the lack of trust and communication on her part that had finally caused Johnny to break up with her. However, now that they were no longer friendly, it was obvious that she was not above using those still-present suggestions to try to ruin him.

“In order to remove the posthypnotic programming you were given, I will have to take you even deeper into your trance,” said Tom. “You will have to go to a level beyond the ability to form thoughts, where nothing exists in your mind but what I place there. Otherwise your own willpower, conditioned as it is, will fight my help.” This was not far from the truth, although Tom did have his own agenda. “If you are willing to give up your thoughts and your will to me, move your right index finger.” Johnny’s finger jerked so quickly that his whole hand flapped. He really wanted Cynthia out of his head, not realizing that letting Tom into it would prove even more dangerous. “Good. Remember what you have agreed to.” The hypnotist then began deepening the boy’s trance state step-by-step, exercise-by-exercise, using a bewildering array of psychological tools, until Johnny’s entire personality structure had melted like butter on a stove, and he lay helpless on the couch, ready to be remade into anything Tom chose.

First, since Tom’s plans for Johnny required that the young man become a good hypnotist, he set about removing Cynthia’s rather amateurishly implanted mental blocks as promised (in the boy’s current state, an operation scarcely more difficult than removing a marble from a plate of soup). Then he went to work implanting suggestions of his own.

“You are now in the deepest possible trance state. You enjoy being in my power very, very much; it excites you sexually. From now on, because you so love being my hypnotized slave, whenever you hear me say the phrase ‘Go Johnny, go’, you will instantly return to this trance level, totally obedient to my will, totally aroused. But this will occur only if I say the phrase, and you will be able to achieve this depth only if I am hypnotizing you. No one else, including yourself, will ever be able to access this level, and all the commands that I give you, now or at any other time, will be unreachable and unalterable unless I change or remove them. Do you understand?”

After a long pause, as though the answer had to pass through satellite relay, Johnny mumbled, “I… unnerstan’.” His erection was clearly visible in his slacks.

“You no longer have any sexual interest in women. They don’t attract you physically, and too many of them, like Cynthia, are impossible to deal with emotionally. Women can only be your casual friends, never your lovers. But you will find that other guys turn you on. You’ll want handsome men (handsome as yourself, or Danny, or me, for example) in the same way you used to want girls before you realized that only another boy could understand or appeal to you.”

“You will become a good hypnotist. You want to study and practice as much as possible, because hypnotism fascinates you. You love to hypnotize people. In particular, you love to hypnotize good-looking young men. Having a handsome man under your spell turns you on, so you will make a particular effort to hypnotize any good-looking guy you work on as deeply as possible; the deeper they go, the better you will like it. This is very important, because any time you have a young man who is both handsome and in a deep enough trance to achieve amnesia, you will automatically create in him an irresistible unconscious compulsion to come to me, and to go into hypnosis at the touch of my hand on his forehead. Each time you manage this successfully, your pleasure will be nearly orgasmic! Repeat these instructions.” As Johnny obeyed, Tom daydreamed happily about the parade of cute little studs he confidently expected once his new hypno-slave was turned loose on the undergraduate volunteer pool. He grinned - all those handsome college boys beating a path to his door, without a clue as to why they were there, but unable to stay away, their entrancement literally at his fingertips! What a rush!

After he was certain that he had drilled the boy sufficiently on his new orders, Tom brought him out of hypnosis, carefully removing any troublesome memories. Johnny stretched and looked around, blinking vaguely, trying to recall where he was and why he was here. Then it started to come back to him and he looked at Tom questioningly. “Yes,” said the hypnotist, “I removed all of Cynthia’s little roadblocks. You should be able to hypnotize successfully now. Let this be a lesson to you: never date paranoid women!” Johnny, without really examining the thought, wondered briefly why he had been dating a girl in the first place, when a good-looking guy like Tom would have been so much more to his taste. “If you would like,” Tom continued, “I can call Danny in here. He’s a pretty fair hypnotic subject, and trying to put him under would make a good test case to see if all the bugs have been worked out of your approach.”

“Do you think he’d agree to it?” Johnny asked, thinking, “Wow! That would be perfect! Danny’s such a hot little fucker.” He found that he loved the idea of placing the handsome boy under his spell, and his dick began to harden.

“Oh, sure. Danny’s always a good sport.” (Not to mention already hypnotized into total compulsive obedience!) “Wait here, and I’ll ask him.”

Tom left his study and walked into the living area next to the kitchen. There he found the deeply entranced Danny watching television, stripped to his jockeys. Apparently the boy had taken a more liberal view of “make yourself comfortable” than the hypnotist would have supposed. He looked so delicious that Tom couldn’t resist giving his perfect chest a quick caress and kissing his unresisting lips. Then he said, “Put on your clothes. I want you to let Johnny practice hypnotizing you. Remember to act as though you are awake until he performs a successful induction, just as I told you.” The boy pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and then, still barefoot, padded after the hypnotist back to the study.

“…And now you get off the elevator. You are at the level of deepest relaxation, and will accept all of my suggestions easily and willingly.” Danny lay on the couch, eyes closed, breathing gently and evenly. With Cynthia’s meddling out of the way, Johnny had taken him down into trance as quickly and efficiently as if he had been doing it for years.

“You’re a natural, kid,” said Tom, noticing the telltale bulge at the boy’s crotch.

Johnny grinned ear to ear, and began to run Danny through the standardized tests that he would be administering to the volunteer subjects. However, when he reached the fourth item (suggested amnesia for subject’s name), as soon as it was clear that the result had been successfully achieved, the young hypnotist’s own demeanor suddenly changed. His eyes lost their focus, his face grew as vacant as a ventriloquist’s dummy, and from his mouth issued a new set of instructions. “Tomorrow, you will call a Mr. Tom LeBlanc at ___-____. You will keep calling until you reach him, and then you will make an appointment to see him whenever and wherever he wishes. You will go alone, and you will tell no one, even under hypnosis. When you meet Mr. LeBlanc, he will touch you on the forehead (which you will make no attempt to avoid), your eyes will close, and you will be back in deepest hypnosis, ten times deeper than you are now, ready to do anything he tells you without resistance. You will have no memory of these suggestions, but you will obey them.” Danny agreed, and with a gasp of erotic pleasure Johnny snapped back to normal consciousness, obviously completely unaware of what he had just done, and continued the test.

He had completed the last item and was about to awaken Danny, when Tom intervened. “Go, Johnny, go,” whispered the hypnotist, and the young man was instantly a petrified zombie. “Johnny, before you awaken your subject, there are two things you should know. First, this boy who is so deeply under your spell has dreamed of having you fuck him, and second, he has a most beautiful ass. I want you to notice it, because once you do, you will find it irresistible. You must use your hypnotic control of Danny to fulfill his fantasy and satisfy what are now your own desires.”

Thickly Johnny said, “Danny, turn over onto your stomach.” The kid obliged, and as Johnny stared enraptured at the fully displayed bubble-butt, temptingly sheathed in tight blue denim, his cock grew harder and harder, radically increasing the tenting in his pants, and staining the fly of his light-colored slacks with a damp circle of pre-cum. Rapidly he began to strip out of his clothing. Unknowingly echoing the exact wording of Danny’s dream scenario, the young hypnotist said, “Danny, I want to fuck you, and you’re going to let me. Take off your clothes.”

The boy’s innocently sleeping face was instantly wreathed in a spacey grin. He quickly stripped to the buff and stood before Johnny, awaiting more commands, his cock now rock hard as well. While Johnny was issuing further instructions, Tom leaned over to Danny and whispered, “Toy-boy”. An involuntary shudder went through the entranced teen as the trigger phrase forced his sensuality into over-drive. And when Johnny pulled the boy into his arms and down onto the couch, Danny was reduced to a state of moaning, squirming, helpless passion. The young hypnotist, however, proved to be a patient and thorough lover. Although the hypnotized teen would not have resisted even a direct assault, Johnny nonetheless took the time to explore and titillate virtually every inch of the kid’s body before proceeding to the main event. By the time he had his tongue thrust deeply into the succulent asshole, preparing his entry, his subject had already cum once, without any direct stimulation; and the boy’s rod was still almost painfully hard.

At Tom’s command, Johnny donned a condom and began his assault on Danny’s cherry. At first he moved gently and slowly, but then, as the lust-maddened teen begged for more, he increased his pace, until he was slamming into the ass like a piston. He was howling like some beast when he came, and Danny shot his second load at the same time.

Tom had planned originally to take part in the festivities, but as he watched the two young men while they sported together, and particularly while, after their violent orgasms, they lay, dazed with satisfaction, in each other’s arms, their eyes growing heavy as their trances continued to deepen, he had a change of heart. They looked so perfect together: the adorable dark-haired angel and the young blond god. Tom decided to foster the pairing, knowing that, should he ever change his mind again, either slave was only a phone call and a trigger phrase away. (As a matter of fact, come to think of it, thanks to the little post-hypnotic suggestion that Johnny had been tricked into planting, Tom would see Danny again very soon anyway.) “Go Johnny, go.” Like iron drawn to a magnet, Johnny’s attention was instantly and totally his once again. “Johnny, you know now that you are an excellent hypnotist, that you have complete hypnotic control of Danny, and that, if you work on him long enough, you can make him think or do or be anything you want him to. You also know that you’ve just had with him the best sex you have ever had. I now command you to become obsessed with the idea of possessing him. You are under a compulsion to hypnotize him as often and as deeply as necessary to make him your boyfriend, your lover, your helpless slave. You will destroy utterly any ability he may have to resist you. To that end, when I count to three, I suggest that you establish a cue phrase in his mind, so that you can put him into trance without needing to get his permission or cooperation. After you have done that, get both of you dressed and back in the positions you were in while you administered the hypnotizability test before I triggered your trance the first time. When you’re in place, you will wake up. You will have no memory of having been in this trance, or of having had sex with Danny (although you will know that you want to). As far as you will be concerned, you will have just finished giving Danny the test, and are ready to wake him up. But you will continue you follow all the suggestions that I’ve already given you concerning yourself, concerning Danny, and concerning whatever good-looking boys in the psychology volunteer pool you successfully hypnotize. And, of course, although you won’t think about when you gave it to him, you’ll recall the trigger phrase you implant to control Danny. One, two, three.”

Johnny began to whisper urgently into Danny’s ear. Tom couldn’t hear quite what he was saying, but watched the younger boy’s face grow woodenly blank as he accepted the programming. Not long after, both young men began to put their clothes back on, Johnny giving Danny instructions item by item, as he seemed unable to initiate any acts on his own. Then they returned to their previous positions, Danny on the therapy couch, and Johnny in the chair in which he had been sitting. Johnny blinked slightly as he came to himself. Then he said, “Danny, I’m going to count to ten now. As I do, you’re gradually going to wake up, so that, at the count of ten, you’ll be in your normal state of awareness. You’ll feel fine, relaxed and refreshed. You won’t remember anything about what you said or did while you were hypnotized; you won’t even be aware that you were. But you will obey, unresistingly, compulsively, without even thinking about it, every suggestion I’ve given you. You can have no will or choice about it.” Then he began to count, slowly and evenly, interspersing the numbers with standard trance termination suggestions. Danny’s face gradually lost its rigid immobility, his eyelids began to flutter, and, at the last number, he opened his eyes and sat up, looking about himself as vaguely as if he had roused from a heavy slumber, yet without any sign of confusion or unease about his dullness.

After some brief conversation that left both hypnotists certain that Danny indeed had no memory of being in trance, the boys took their leave. It was all Tom could do to keep his face straight as Johnny thanked him repeatedly and effusively. “Just glad I could help,” he said. Just before they drove away, Tom, watching from the window, thought he saw Johnny turn and say something to Danny, after which the boy’s face seemed to go totally blank once again. He couldn’t be certain because of the glare on the windshield, and then the car started and they were gone.


II. Volunteers

Hal Bennett and his roommate Tim Lathem trotted across the quad. Their eight o’clock English class had run over, and they were trying not to be late for their appointment at the psychology lab. Tim had volunteered for the proposed hypnosis experiment as a lark. He’d been hypnotized once at a county fair, and knew that he was a good subject. He was curious to explore the sensation further. Hal, on the other hand, though he wasn’t particularly intrigued by hypnotism, was just as eager as Tim to be one of the chosen participants. He was the first in his lower-income farming family (indeed, in his whole tiny home town) to make it as far as college, and, even with the help of an award scholarship from the biology department, he had to work day and night to make ends meet. On his shoestring budget, anything that promised a fee was of profound interest to him. They arrived only slightly out of breath and in plenty of time to find seats towards the front of the lecture hall.

As they waited on the few remaining stragglers, Tim scoped out the females present, attempting to make eye contact with a couple of the cuter ones. Hal, in contrast, was trying very hard not to be noticed scoping out Tim. Although he would rather have had his fingernails torn out than admit it (you don’t learn to be forthcoming about your gay desires growing up in a small rural community of Born Agains), Hal had an intense crush on his handsome roommate (blond and boyish, a dead ringer for actor Shane Meier on the cover of that Out magazine he’d seen in a bookstore, but hadn’t had the nerve to buy). As he watched his friend nearly drooling over a busty redheaded coed in a sweater tight enough to be illegal in Kansas, Hal thought, not for the first time, that he’d trade his soul to have Tim look at him that way. It never occurred to him that, while straight Tim might never be his, another gay man would find Hal just as alluring as he found his roomie. That muscles hardened by farm work, a tall, statuesque frame, a grave, thoughtful face, beautiful as a pre-Raphaelite painting, and a head of thick, glossy, midnight-black hair (in spite of the English surname, Hal was more than half Italian), all added up to a package that would turn most heads, was, due to his lack of confidence and self image problems, a fact that was lost on him. So he pined in silence over golden Tim.

The boys’ separate reveries were interrupted when a young man passing from row to row handed them some paperwork to fill out – name, student ID number, address and telephone, and a few carefully worded liability waivers – the usual bullshit. Tim quickly completed his. Hal sat for a moment, a little stunned. What the hell was this place – blond studs central? He had that strange frisson of excitement that comes from spotting a celebrity. Even though he knew that the paper pusher wasn’t really Brad Pitt (too young, for one thing), still the guy looked enough like him to be a family member. Hal gave his head a small shake to clear his thoughts, and then began to fill out the form. A few moments later, the Pitt clone collected the completed papers, and Dr. Thurman mounted the podium to address them.

After briefly thanking them all for coming, Thurman launched into a description of the experiment in which he hoped to make use of them. Tim looked interested, but Hal just thought, “Yadda, yadda, yadda.” The professor went on to discuss the desired number of experimental subjects who were high-hypnotizables (whatever the hell that was) and of those who couldn’t be hypnotized, to form a control sample. Hal was just beginning to wonder if he would be sent to sleep by sheer boredom, when his attention was suddenly grabbed as the doctor continued, “In order to determine whether you fall into one or the other of those two categories, my assistant John Miller, who collected your consent forms a moment ago, will be hypnotizing you, first, as a group, and then individually, to administer a Stanford/Binet test of hypnotic susceptibility. You will all receive a fee for one day’s experimental work. Then, those of you meet my requirements will be invited to join the project for its duration at the usual daily rate.” Hal, already determined, for financial reasons, to be one of the chosen subjects, had to shift his notebook to cover the bulge that had, much to his surprise, developed in his pants at the thought of engaging in as curiously intimate an activity as hypnosis with the attractive Mr. Miller. This might turn out to be much more entertaining than he’d thought.

Dr. Thurman then left the room, and Johnny took over. “Okay guinea pigs and fellow sufferers, how many of you have ever been hypnotized before?” Several students raised their hands, Tim among them. “Have any of you ever taken a Stanford/Binet?” Now only one girl still had her hand in the air. “Well, for the rest of you, it’s just a test of your trance abilities. I’ll hypnotize you as deeply as you are able to go, and then give you each a series of simple suggestions to see how well you react to them. We’ll be looking for the ones who are most easily affected, and for those who never even make it into trance in the first place. The rest, the middle ground of suggestibility, and I have to warn you that this will probably include most of you, won’t make the cut. But don’t despair. This department runs a lot of experiments. I’m sure you’ll get in on some other one. Any questions before I begin?” 

After one or two predictably uninformed questions (“No, if I have a heart attack while you’re still hypnotized, you won’t stay asleep forever – and thanks for asking”), and the inevitable “What’s it like?” (“You’re about to find out”), Johnny told them to sit comfortably in their chairs, feet flat on the floor, hands palms upward in their laps, and then began his induction. All over the hall, young men and women gradually began to fall under hypnosis, at varying rates of speed and to varying degrees of depth. Tim and a few of the other experienced kids dropped down almost immediately, like rocks tossed into deep water. Some few others, after following the instructions for a while, opened their eyes and sat back up, obviously not being taken along for the ride. Most, however, relaxed slowly, yet perceptibly, flirting with the trance state, but not profoundly affected yet.

Hal found himself among this last group. He was sure that he wasn’t normally conscious; he felt very relaxed, and it was easy just to go along with Mr. Miller’s smooth, sexy voice, but he felt much too aware of things around him to believe that he could possibly be in deep trance. Damn! He was too suggestible for the control group, but not suggestible enough for the experiment.  And he really wanted to be in this experiment! He needed the money, and he’d looked forward to hanging out more with Tim, and to getting to know Mr. Movie-hunk Miller. Hal’s eyes hadn’t closed yet, although they felt like they wanted to, so he could still see Tim and another guy in the row in front of them, handsome Dave Coburn, from the swim team, both of whom were out like lights. He began to imitate their reactions as closely as he could, hoping to fool Johnny, naively unaware of how much this would deepen his own response. Soon Hal was much more deeply entranced than before, although, since Johnny hadn’t started messing with his mind yet, he was still convinced that he wasn’t really very hypnotized at all.

After a few deepening exercises, to get the susceptible subjects to go as far under as possible, and a suggestion for everyone to continue to go deeper into trance, Johnny went through the room. First, he talked to all of the students who seemed to be awake. After a few questions, to make sure that they really were unaffected, he gave them an instruction sheet for the control group and dismissed them. Next, he went among those who were showing only minimal signs of trance. These he awakened and sent away with thanks for their time. This left him with not quite thirty very hypnotized young people, a few more women than men. Johnny gave them a cue phrase for easy re-induction and then awakened them. He divided them into groups of five or six, and spent the rest of the afternoon giving them their tests.

Because of his own hypnotic conditioning, Johnny had semi-consciously made sure to put all of the handsomest boys in the same test group. Thus, the last batch of subjects to follow him into the soundproofed lab contained Tim, Hal, and Dave, as well as Cole Buchanon, sexy lead guitarist in the campus band “Fingerfood” (a tattooed Mark McGrath ditto who had only volunteered for the experimental pool as part of a bet, and was now going to be getting a lot more than he had bargained for), and Marty Prescott, a bizarre (but beautiful), almost schizoid combination of tanned new-age surfer god and skeptical brain-trust computer nerd (Kelly Slater with wire-rim glasses and a snotty attitude). Johnny seated them in the comfortable chairs provided, uttered the magic words, and all five were once again under hypnosis. Tim, Dave, and Cole were stereotypically limp and zonked, eyes closed, heads lolling. Hal, too, was sagging in his chair like a rag doll, but his eyes were still open, looking at the hypnotist as though he didn’t understand that he was back in trance. And Marty was sitting up straight, as though he considered it beneath his dignity to yield so obviously, but his glazed, unseeing gaze told its own tale. Johnny, true to his training, became instantly aroused by having five such good-looking guys in his power.

He began to administer the test items, taking great pleasure in the boys’ various responses. Tim and Dave were obedient robots. No matter what the suggestion, they responded to it automatically, without question or resistance. Cole was more entertaining. His waking personality was so cocky that seeing him now, polite and helpless as a little kid, doing whatever he was told, was particularly hot. Hal appeared to be just as much under control as the rest, but Johnny still wanted to watch him closely. Something about the way that the boy didn’t seem to have realized how deeply hypnotized he was, made the young hypnotist a little suspicious of the perfect test results Hal was achieving. The funniest of all was Marty. Johnny soon realized that he had in fact gone the deepest of any of them, but his attitude had not softened any because of that. And he was a motor mouth, even under hypnosis, arguing about every reaction. “My hand isn’t floating; I got a shoulder cramp! Dude, I’m not hallucinating anything; there is a damn fly in here!” Johnny supposed that he could get him to be quiet by suggestion, but it didn’t seem to be disturbing the other boys, and he actually found the wacky rationalizations to be kind of amusing. He did make a mental note to warn Dr. Thurman, who most certainly would not be amused by Marty’s running commentary.

Then Johnny came to item number four, the one in which he was the unwitting agent of Tom LeBlanc: amnesia for subject’s name. Before attempting this one, the young hypnotist felt that it was somehow important to do one more deepening exercise with the boys. It seemed especially necessary to be sure they were totally under control. After a minute or two of counting and descending imaginary staircases, Hal and Marty seemed to have loosened up a little more, so Johnny proceeded with the suggestions. “I’m going to count to three and then touch the back of your hand. When I do that, I want you to try to tell me your name. But you will discover that you have forgotten what it is. No matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to remember your name; you won’t even be able to think of the letters you might use to spell it. It will remain vanished from your mind until I tap your hand a second time.” Johnny tested Dave, and then Tim. Neither could remember his name. They even seemed, in a blankly zoned out way, impatient with him, as though saying, “Of course I can’t remember my name! You told me not to.” Cole was shyly apologetic that he couldn’t come up with his. When Johnny came to Hal, he had the feeling that the boy didn’t even try to remember his name, although he still had to conclude that the test was a success. (Johnny didn’t know, of course, that Hal was determined to pass all the tests, by faking if necessary. Hal actually could remember his name – sort of. He knew it was Hal… something… something… began with an… a… one of those curvy letters.) And then last, he came to Marty. “Don’t be stupid, Dude. I’m not gonna forget my own my name! It’s… it’s… I’m… no, no, wait… it’s….” The boy struggled a moment longer and then lapsed into staring silence, accepting, apparently for the first time, that he was indeed hypnotized. Johnny tapped each boy’s hand to restore his name, and was about to move on to the next test, when his own face went blank, and he issued Tom’s implanted instructions to the sleeping subjects. In just a few minutes, each boy had been programmed with an irresistible compulsion to contact Tom and go into trance for him at a touch of his hand, and then had all recollection of it wiped from his mind. (Cole might have had a partial erection, although it was impossible, because of his baggy cool-guy pants, for the young hypnotist to be certain). And Johnny, although feeling extremely, inexplicably sexy, now also completely unaware of what he’d just done, continued with the testing.

By the time he had finished with the boys he was feeling so horny that he just had to get some relief. Johnny awakened them all, but called Marty back just as the others exited. As soon as the door closed again, the young hypnotist repeated the cue phrase, and Marty was instantly in his power again. “Suck my dick,” he commanded.

“That’s disgusting,” Marty whined as he fell to his knees before Johnny, fumbling to open his fly. “I (slurp) don’t (lick) do (drool) guys (smack, gulp)!”

“Of course you don’t,” Johnny smirked to himself as he blasted off in the blond surfer’s mouth. Then he patiently blanked the boy’s memory once more and sent him on his way.

Having successfully re-hypnotized and tested all of the subjects, Johnny was through for the day. He called Tom to thank him one more time for making his success possible, and saving his butt from the wrath of Dr. Thurman. After an interjection of “Go, Johnny, go” from the hypnotist, he also described all of the extra-curricular activities that had gone on in the final group. Tom knew he could expect to be contacted by five unsuspecting little studlets, one of whom already knew how to give a blowjob.

As they walked back to the dorm, Hal was unusually quiet and thoughtful. As a part of the test, all the boys had been allowed to remember each test item (excepting, of course, the unscheduled one that Johnny didn’t remember either). Tim and Dave had both had the same reaction when their memories returned. “Wow, cool!” (Dave), and “Man, that was a blast! I went a lot deeper than the other time,” (Tim). As a matter of fact, Tim was still chattering excitedly about the whole experience. Cole had just looked disconcerted that he’d lost that much control of himself. After all, he was just there to settle his bet, and now he was stuck in the project, and would be losing even more of his precious self-image by being compelled to follow suggestions without demur. And Marty, well, Hal didn’t know what Marty may have thought about it all, because he had still been in the lab with Johnny by the time the rest of them left. But Hal was very uneasy. He alone among the five boys was aware that there was something that he still couldn’t remember after having been told to remember everything. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something missing from the fabric of his recollection. He tried to voice his concerns to Tim, but found himself asking instead about Tim’s plans for the weekend. Something was preventing him from even talking about this mysterious memory void! Hal grew even more alarmed.

Back at the dorm, Hal went to use the bathroom. When he returned, Tim was on the phone, his face completely blank. “Yes, sir, I’ll be there at noon tomorrow,” he was saying in a soft, toneless voice, quite unlike his usual manner. Then He hung up the phone, blinking as though he had just awoken.

“Who was that you were talking to?”

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know; just a wrong number.”

Now Hal was really feeling panicky, but again discovered that he couldn’t make himself talk about it, and Tim seemed no more aware or concerned than if it really had been a wrong number. Hal wondered whether Cole, Dave, and Marty were making similarly unaccountable phone calls. And then that night at work, during his break, he found himself suddenly going to the phone, for no reason he could imagine, and dialing a number he didn’t recognize. A man answered identifying himself as Tom LeBlanc, and Hal was horrified to hear his own voice, flat and inflectionless, out of his own mouth, but not by any wish of his own, say, “Hello, this is Hal Spencer. I’m a freshman at _____ State and I was hypnotized this afternoon by John Miller. I will come to you whenever you want me.”

“Excellent,” said the man. “Describe yourself.”

Again Hal’s unruly tongue began wagging as he catalogued his physical features with embarrassing thoroughness, including, at the Tom’s promptings, his musculature and cock size! He couldn’t stop himself. When he had finished, Hal was trembling, but he was still unable to hang up the phone.

“You will come to (here Tom gave his address) at noon tomorrow. Tell no one where you’re going. As soon as I hang up, you’ll forget about this call. It was just a wrong number.”

Hal heard himself reply vacantly, just as Tim had, “Yes, sir, I’ll be there at noon.” Then the man broke the connection, and Hal was left staring at the receiver in his hand, wondering, “Why the hell did I answer a pay phone? I knew it would just be a wrong number.” He hung it up and went contentedly back to work, Tom’s amnesia suggestion on top of the ones Johnny had already placed having finally tipped the mental balance so that he was no longer frightened by, or even aware of the fix he and his friends were in.

At precisely noon, Hal got out of his car, having driven to a neighborhood he’d never seen before, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. At the same time, across the street, Cole was getting out of his car, and Tim had just pulled up behind him. Dave was already at the door of the house just about to ring the bell, and Marty had apparently arrived a little earlier; his car was there, but he wasn’t in view.

As Cole joined the other three boys on the porch he muttered, “What the fuck are you all doing here?” then, “Dumb question. What the fuck am I doing here?!” The door opened, and Tom ushered them in. All four boys trailed him obediently into his living room, though none of them could imagine who he was, or why they were following him so unquestioningly. Marty was already there seated (or perhaps slumped would be the more accurate description since he was patently back under deepest hypnosis) on one of the couches.

Cole bristled at the sight. “What the hell’s going on here!” he snapped. But that was as far as he got before Tom tapped him gently on the forehead.

“Sleep,” commanded the hypnotist, and Cole’s eyes snapped shut, every trace of tension and hostility vanishing from his demeanor in an instant. He allowed himself to be led over to the sofa, where he sagged peacefully into a seat beside Marty. Hal, Tim, and Dave all watched horrified, but when they tried to flee, they couldn’t make their muscles respond. They were unable to avoid Tom as he walked deliberately towards them, and, one at a time, brought each under his control with a touch. In almost no time, Dave was slumbering helplessly in a recliner, while Tim rested his head on Hal’s shoulder as they leaned against each other on the love seat, all blissfully unaware of anything but the hypnotist’s voice.

Tom took the boys through a few of his own deepening exercises, just to make sure they hadn’t lost any ground since Johnny had worked on them. Then he went to it, reinforcing his control, metaphorically blasting out a sub-basement in the young men’s subconscious thoughts where his programming could lodge, invisible and inaccessible even to another hypnotist. He continued until he was satisfied that their volition was a thing of the past, their ego structures his to play with.

“Sit up and open your eyes, but do not wake up.” As the boys pulled themselves together, Tom looked from one blearily attentive face to another, “You agree to believe everything I tell you, and to do anything I command. Answer.”

“I agree.” Six hypnotized voices from six obedient little robots answered him, virtually in unison.

“The first thing you must believe is that every man has both masculine and feminine aspects to his personality. You can feel this in yourself, can’t you?” Each boy nodded vacantly. “Whenever you look at, or think of, another man, you will be aware of both elements in his make-up. The masculine in you will see the feminine in him and be aroused to lust; the feminine in you will see the masculine in him, and long to submit. Think about this, and know that it is so.” Again came the mindless nods.

“I will ask you each to stand up, one at a time. If you are the one standing, you will answer all my questions with compulsive honesty; at the same time, you will remove your clothes. If you are not standing, you will pay no attention to the questions, and simply concentrate on going even deeper into trance. Marty, please stand up.”

When the cute blond surfer/nerd was on his feet, beginning to unbutton his shirt in an absent-minded fashion, Tom began his interrogation. “How old are you, Marty?”

“Nineteen.” Marty’s voice was soft and sleepy, no longer argumentative.

“Have you ever performed a sexual act with another guy?”

“I gave John Miller a blowjob. I couldn’t help it; I was hypnotized.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Marty hesitated for a long moment, at the same time removing the last item of clothing he had on, his boxer shorts. Finally he answered, very uncertainly, “N…no,” but even as he said it, his hypnotized mind was recalling the act, now through the trance-muddled haze of masculine and feminine responses, and his dick began to get hard.

Tom grinned. “On the contrary, I think you enjoyed it very much. It was the best sex you ever had. Say it, and know that it is true.”

The confusion on Marty’s face was replaced by a brainless smirk. “I really enjoyed blowing him; it was the best I ever had.” His cock was now completely hard and throbbing.

“You love sex with men.”

“I love sex with men.”

“Look at the other handsome men in this room. Which of them do you find the most attractive?”

Marty slowly rotated, staring a long time at Tom, and then at each sleeping boy. Finally he stopped, focusing on Dave. “I like him.” He began to finger himself.

“What would you like to do with Dave?”

“I want to fuck his ass. I want to make him suck my toes. I want him to be my slave.”

Tom thought, “Hmmm… kinky, but I can accommodate him on some of that; Dave’s a follower.” At least Marty hadn’t picked Cole, who was Tom’s personal choice for an encounter. “Marty, sit back down on the couch, close your eyes, and go back to sleep. You’ll dream about Dave until I talk to you again,” the hypnotist commanded.

“David, stand up.”

The tall, brown-haired swimmer struggled to his feet and stood swaying gently, his beautiful gray eyes unfocused. As Dave pulled his t-shirt over his head, and then shucked his cut-off shorts, Tom asked him the same two questions he had first asked Marty. Dave, it turned out, was twenty years old, and, so far, totally straight, but almost completely inexperienced. The hypnotist began heightening the sexual confusion he had engendered, until the now naked boy was so disoriented that he would be game for play with either sex. Then he set to work turning Dave on to Marty.

“Dave, look carefully at Marty. Look at his handsome face, his beautiful blond hair; look at his wonderful body, tan and slim; look at his hard cock. Marty is the most wonderful boy you’ve ever seen, the most desirable person alive. Say it, and know it is so.”

“My God, he’s perfect!” Dave choked. He sounded as though he almost couldn’t breathe, and his dick was rock hard.

“Look at his feet,” Tom continued. “His toes are incredibly sexy, like nipples on breasts, or the head of a juicy cock. You want to suck and lick them; you want to smell them. That smell is full of sex and pheromones. One whiff, and you will be in his power sexually. You will have no desire, and no choice but to do as he commands. Kneel down and worship Marty’s toes. Become his foot slave, now” Dave knelt, panting with lust, and began to rub his face on Marty’s feet.

“Open your eyes again, Marty,” said the hypnotist. “Dave is your sex slave now. You can make him do anything you want him to.”

Marty looked down at Dave, groveling at his feet. “That’s right. Suck those toes, Dude. You know you want to.” Dave moaned with pleasure and engulfed one of Marty’s funky big toes, like a baby on the tit. Both boys were now dripping pre-cum from their rampant cocks, and Tom was beginning to feel extremely hot and bothered too. As Marty pulled Dave up to his cock, where the mind-blown swimmer began to fellate him without even being ordered, Tom decided it was his turn to get off. He began to remove his clothes.

When he was naked, Tom said, “Cole, you will stand up now.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man came to his feet with the promptness of a particularly gung-ho marine private (an image quite at odds with his glamour-tough rebel appearance), and quickly skinned off his shirt, revealing his muscular torso, tattooed around his left bicep and above his right nipple, and the silver ring in his pierced navel. Tom was ecstatic.

“How old are you, Cole?”

“Twenty-one, sir.” He kicked off his Adidas and socks.

“Have you ever had sex with another boy?”

“Yes, sir. I was in a circle-jerk a couple of times at camp when I was thirteen, and once, last year, when I was really drunk, I let my cousin blow me.” Now the jeans came off, revealing silky black bikini underwear… and the indisputable fact that Cole was hung like a bear, and rock-hard.

Tom blinked in surprise both at the information and at the huge erection. “Did you like the sex with guys?”

“It was okay, sir. I think I like girls better.” Down came the briefs. Cole had another tattoo on his left buttock, and he was tan all over.

The hypnotist was a little disappointed; he’d been ready to move right in on the boy, but now would have to do a more comprehensive reorientation. He decided to attach the idea of men to Cole’s favorite fantasy and work his way in from there. “What is the most sexually exciting thing you’ve ever experienced?”

Cole smiled dreamily. “Being hypnotized, sir. When Mr. Miller hypnotized me, the first time I really knew that I couldn’t resist his orders, I came in my pants. But he didn’t let me remember that,” he added, looking a little sad. “I don’t think he even noticed. Ever since, I’ve wanted to be put under again, even though I didn’t know it, and now I’m so turned on I really want to cum. Please, Sir?”

Tom almost came himself, then and there. This was just too perfect. “I can let you cum,” he said. “I can also put you into trance as often as you can handle it. But you will have to agree to something first. You must agree to come to me whenever I summon you, and to be my obedient sex toy whenever I have you under hypnosis. If you agree to this, then I will let you cum, but, if you do agree, from that moment on you will be permanently helpless to refuse me. In your waking state you won’t know anything about wanting this. You may even be shocked at knowing your own helplessness. But your sub-conscious mind will know what you really want, and it will be mine. I will control you. You will not be able to tell anyone about our arrangement, or to seek freedom from it; nor will you be able to do harm either to me or to yourself. Once you accept these terms, you will cum immediately, the best orgasm you’ve ever had.”

“Oh, yes, sir! I want to be your toy! I want to be controlled! I… I… Oh, God!!” Cole’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his enormous cock exploded in a fountain of cum. His legs buckled under the force of his orgasm, and he sagged, first to his knees, and then over onto his side, where he lay quivering and gasping helplessly as the waves of sensation receded.

At about the same time (and before Tom could initiate the sex with Cole that he was dying to have), the noise level from the couch, where Marty and Dave had progressed from sucking to fucking like mad, rose to the point that it was obvious their climax was also upon them. With a shout, Marty drove into Dave’s ass one last time, pumping out a substantial load, while Dave, groaning, glued their bellies together with his own wad. Tom realized that he needed to deal with them before he could indulge himself.

“Marty, Dave, clean yourselves up and put your clothes back on. It’s almost time for you to go.” When the two had reassembled themselves, Tom continued, “When I touch your shoulder, you will leave here and drive back to campus. Although you will drive carefully and well, you will both remain deep in trance until you get there. At that point, you’ll awaken, with no sense of missing time, and no conscious memory of having been here, or of anything that went on while you were. However, your bodies will remember this experience. Without realizing that’s what you are doing, you’ll keep an eye out for each other on campus, and when you run into each other again, you will instantly fall in lust. Marty, you will have an irresistible desire to dominate Dave and make him your sex slave. Dave, you will have a compulsive need to submit to Marty, particularly to his feet. And, just as today, whenever you smell Marty’s feet, it will be as if you were hypnotized; you will have to do everything he tells you to do. You both understand this instinctively, even without conscious knowledge.” The hypnotist patted both boys on their shoulders, and they walked out the door, got into their cars, and drove away, seemingly oblivious of Tom and Cole, both stark naked, of the other two hypnotized boys, and of each other.

This interlude had allowed Tom to regain his self-control, so he decided to deal with his remaining two subjects to clear the way for fun and games with Cole. He ordered Cole to lie down on the now vacant couch and sleep deeply until instructed otherwise. Then he said, “Tim, stand up.”

The pretty little blond slowly got to his feet and stood swaying like a drunk, his limp hands fumbling ineffectually with the buttons of his shirt as he tried to remove it. The boy was under so deeply that he could scarcely control his body. It took several additional suggestions from the hypnotist before he could hold himself reliably upright and finish undressing. When Tim was naked, the hypnotist began his questioning, but other than being impressed by how far the boy had gone into hypnosis (and by the perfection of the compact body his stripping had revealed), Tom found nothing particularly noteworthy about him. Tim was an eighteen-year-old freshman, up until now totally heterosexual (and something of a ladies’ man), although, thanks to the suggestions now percolating in his vulnerable psyche, he hesitantly wondered if he might possibly be bi. The hypnotist knew he could turn him any way he wanted, such was the extraordinary depth of Tim’s trance, but he had been hoping for some indication of what might suit the kid’s own leanings, so as to take advantage of it as he had with the others. Tom decided to table the issue, as it were. The hypnotist caressed Tim’s perfect butt, enjoying the plush resilience of the firm pink cheeks, and told him to sit back down, close his eyes, and keep going deeper until he received other instructions. Maybe Hal would have something interesting to contribute to the mix.

“Hal, stand up.”

As the dark-haired teen rose and absently began pulling off his clothes, Tom immediately realized that, in spite of all the layers of conditioning, this boy wasn’t nearly as out of it as the rest (although he was far enough along for all necessary amnesia suggestions to have effect, so this wasn’t exactly a problem). The hypnotist wondered how he had missed it before (not knowing, of course, that Hal had been imitating the more hypnotizable boys to begin with, and only for a short time had he been deeply entranced enough that he was no longer able to fake the quality of his responses.) Tom was also very curious to know why a boy, who must have been in a relatively light trance at least when Johnny Miller had been working on him, and possibly, even during the earlier stages of Tom’s own session, would pretend to be more hypnotized than he actually was. Hal had stopped short of removing his underpants, so the hypnotist set him on another round of deepening suggestions, and soon the boy was once again on the staircase in his mind, counting off the steps as he imagined walking always down… down… down. After counting to thirty or so, Hal hooked his thumb under the waistband of his jockeys and pulled them off, stepping out of them without breaking “stride”, all without any apparent awareness of what he was doing, so Tom instructed him to stop counting, and resumed his questioning.

“How old are you, Hal?”


“Ever have sex with another guy?”


“With a girl?”


“Why did you act hypnotized before you really were?”

If it were possible for a face so blank to register emotion, Hal looked a little embarrassed. “I… I really wanted to be in the experiment. I need the money,” he mumbled. His lips worked, as though he might say something more, but nothing came out.

“You had another reason, didn’t you,” Tom insisted. “However hard you try, you can’t stop yourself from telling me.”

“I… I… I wanted…” Hal struggled against the answer, and then blurted, “Mr. Miller was really hot; I thought it would be sexy to be hypnotized by him. And I wanted a reason to spend more time with Tim.” Once the dam was broken, it all came out in a rush. “I’m crazy about Tim. I want him so bad sometimes I could cry, but he’s always out with girls and I’m always working. We room together and I hardly ever even see the guy. I know he’s straight and I don’t have a chance, but I can’t stop thinking about him. At least in the experiment, we’d be going the same place at the same time.” Then he added, almost too softly for the hypnotist to hear it, “Maybe if he was in trance, I’d at least get a chance to look at him without having to hide it.” A single tear trickled down his cheek.

Tom, manipulator that he was, found himself unexpectedly touched by this outburst. Before he’d discovered his talent for hypnotism, he’d suffered through many hopeless crushes of his own. He remembered at fifteen, after finally working up the nerve to approach handsome Jimmy Tatum, his best friend at the time, receiving nothing but a black eye for his trouble (although Jimmy had at least been classy enough not to spread tales about it). With a smile, Tom also remembered how, three years later, at a New Year’s Eve party, he ran into Jimmy again. Armed with his newfound knowledge, Tom tricked him into a trance, and then had him every way it was possible for one guy to have another. The feeling of vindication had been indescribably sweet, almost as sweet as the sex itself. He reached out his hand to wipe away Hal’s tear, feeling uncharacteristically generous. “Hal, would you like me to make Tim be your boyfriend?” he asked gently.

“I’d give anything,” the boy answered quietly.

“Sit down on the couch next to Tim. Tim, lie with your head in Hal’s lap; Hal, stroke Tim’s hair.” The two young men assumed the requested positions, Hal, hypnotized or not, sprouting an immediate erection when Tim’s head touched his naked thighs, his cock leaving a small sticky trail in Tim’s hair.

“Tim, do you think your roommate is handsome?” Tom asked.

“He’s okay, I guess.”

“Oh, Hal’s much more than just okay. The next time you look at him you’ll realize that he’s one of the best looking men you’ve ever seen. You will be sexually attracted to him as much as you have ever been attracted to anyone, male or female. As a matter of fact, his touch right now is really turning you on.” (Tim snuggled his head into Hal’s lap, and his right hand floated down to his own lap to fondle his sudden hard-on.) “And Hal is a good guy,” the hypnotist continued. “He’s a good friend and he works so hard; you always know you can count on him. He’s gentle and caring, and he loves you. You know that he’d never hurt you, that you’d always be safe with him to love. You know this, and you will never question it again. As Hal strokes your hair, you can feel his love. It’s radiating from him like heat from his skin. It flows from his hands into you, into your heart and into your mind, until you are as filled with love as he is. You can feel it happening. You are falling in love with your roommate; you are falling in love with Hal. You love Hal. You love Hal. Say it.”

“I… love Hal?”


“I love Hal.”


“I love Hal!” By this time Tim’s response was filled with delighted, surprised conviction. He masturbated furiously, squirming with pleasure.

“Tim, Hal, after you awaken, you won’t have any memory of being here, or of anything that went on, but when you return to your dorm room, you will no longer be able to resist the feelings you have for one another. Before tomorrow, you will become lovers, physically and emotionally. There will be no choice in the matter. From time to time, Johnny Miller will call on you and re-hypnotize you to reinforce these suggestions.” (Easily arranged with a simple phone call and a “go Johnny, go”.) “You will cooperate with him unresistingly, even though you won’t know why. Now kiss each other as a pledge of your bond, and by the time you have finished, your minds will be empty of all thoughts but to get dressed, get in your cars, and return to the dorm. You will be awake when you are back on campus.”

Hal bent down and softly placed his lips over Tim’s. His tongue probed gently, and Tim opened his mouth to admit him. As their kiss deepened, Tim came all over his hand. Then it was over, and both boys, flushed and dazed-looking, rose from the couch and began to dress. Tim took no apparent notice of the blotches of cum that he smeared on his clothes as he put them back on. They single-mindedly ignored each other and everything else, except when Tom repeated the instructions he’d already given Marty and Dave about driving safely and well. Then they were out the door, headed to their cars.

The sound of their engines hadn’t even died away before Tom, instantly at full erection, had his cock stuffed into Cole’s helplessly accommodating mouth, pounding away. Cole struggled a little, trying to resist, yet was secretly thrilled, almost to the point of orgasm, to find he wasn’t able to.

That evening, Hal and Tim were both in their room (somewhat unusually, at the same time) studying. Hal was, as usual, stealing looks at his handsome blond roommate, when Tim suddenly looked up. Normally, Hal would have instantly averted his glance, terrified of being caught staring. But this time, somehow he just couldn’t look away. He continued to gaze at Tim, longing naked in his face. Tim stared back at him for a long moment, and Hal’s heart felt as though it would stop. Then his trepidation became hope as he saw that Tim’s face was filled with tenderness! Tim walked hesitantly over to Hal, and gently touched his face. And then, almost without transition, the two young men were in each other’s arms, caressing each other’s firm bodies, scattering kisses all over each other’s faces, murmuring impassioned endearments, completely lost in each other and their transports of joy, just like any other young lovers.

Dr. Thurman was delighted with the efficient and professional manner in which young Miller had handled his duties. He couldn’t imagine where Cynthia had gotten the idea that Johnny wasn’t competent. The lad was an excellent hypnotist, and extremely good at organizing and managing the people involved; and all of the deep trance subjects had been thoroughly well prepared with trigger phrases and proper deepening exercises. There was, however, one thing the doctor found to be curious in his test results. It was rather unusual that so many of the best male hypnotic subjects in the test sample had turned out to be gay or bisexual. Could there possibly be a correlation between male homosexuality and high hypnotizability? Dr. Thurman practically rubbed his hands together with glee. Perhaps there was another paper in this! He’d have to talk to Johnny about setting up some experimental parameters, this time with only male subjects.