Twins (mm hypno oral inc)

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

It was just after the beginning of our first semester at college that I began to feel that something was a little off with my brother. Oh, it wasn’t a clearly defined feeling, and not a whole lot off, but, well… off. Chris (for Christian – don’t call him Christopher - he hates that) and I (I’m Carter) are identical twins. We’re nineteen-year-old six-footers, blond, blue-eyed, clean-cut, athletic, and (if I am the one to say it) handsome. He’s the elder by just a few minutes. We are so identical that, in old photos even I can’t tell who’s who unless I happen to remember what we were each wearing at the time (we’ve never, thank God, done that creepy-assed dress-alike thing some twins go in for). Now, I’ve never bought into the twins-have-a-psychic-bond crap, but Chris and I have always been really, really close; closer than most brothers. We’re the only kids, Dad died when we were barely four years old, and, with Mom having to work full-time to support us all, we got used early on to being on our own together a lot, so we naturally bonded all the more strongly. If I had a problem, it never occurred to me not to go to Chris first for advice or comfort, and it was the same for him. Don’t get me wrong; we love our mother, and she’s always been great to us, but it’s just that she couldn’t always be there. First by necessity and then by choice, we became each other’s best friend, our own twin support group, allies in adversity, the first to celebrate each other’s victories, the first to commiserate and bind each other’s wounds, facing the world shoulder to shoulder, an army of two marching in lock-step, and so familiar with each other’s preferences and reactions that, I suppose, from the outside it really might almost seem like we could read each other’s mind. That’s why I was extra sensitive to the little changes that were occurring now. It may not have been any psychic mumbo-jumbo, but I know Chris as completely as I know myself, and the subtle differences that his more casual acquaintances probably never even noticed had accumulated to the point that they were impossible for me to ignore.

First off, Chris just wasn’t acting like himself. He’d developed a tendency to daydream (or brood – I couldn’t tell which), and was tuning out into his little private world at some of the oddest times and places. Now, although neither of us is especially likely to be a candidate for the dean’s list any time soon, still, we’ve always been good solid B students with the occasional A and not a C in sight, who are normally alert and focused, and never, before this, had Chris shown the least inclination to be spacey or distracted. Second, he was talking in his sleep, and since we’ve shared a bedroom our entire lives, I know that’s not normal for him. I could never quite make out what he was saying (if indeed he wasn’t just mumbling incoherently), and truth be told it didn’t really wake me all the way up - we’re both pretty heavy sleepers. But I was roused into enough of a twilight state that I would remember his midnight muttering the next morning. And last and worst, he was starting to keep secrets. I know you’re thinking that’s no big deal; a grown man is bound to insist on some privacy. And Chris and I have always given each other space when we needed or asked for it. But what we’ve never done is to pretend there wasn’t something we were reserving as private, or to lie about it to each other! I had found out by accident in random conversation with fellow students that, on several occasions, Chris had not been where he’d told me he was going. Appointments, labs or study sessions he was supposedly attending had been much shorter than he claimed, or hadn’t taken place at all. Also, a couple of times I’d walked in just as he was ending a phone call that had pretty obviously been an actual conversation, only to have him volunteer the information (and without my having asked in the first place) that it was a wrong number. It had me feeling more than a little hurt that he no longer seemed to trust me, and, considering how remarkably few things we weren’t already comfortable sharing with each other (for example, we knew all about each other’s sex life: who’d got to first, second, or third base, or scored, and with which girls; within hours after it happened when and how we’d each lost our respective virginities; what the other fantasized to when jacking off – he’s all about tits, while I’m a sucker for long shapely legs, especially in high heels – not to mention having even jacked off together occasionally when we were younger) it really worried me to imagine what on earth he might be up to that he felt he needed to keep that hidden. Drugs? Gambling debts? A pregnant girlfriend?

Three Weeks Earlier

“Man, if I have to fill out one more damned form I’m goin’ postal!” Chris had that tight look around the eyes that he gets when he’s feeling stressed. “They must have their own tree farm just to supply the wood pulp for the paper!”

“Chill, Bro. I’m pretty sure that was the last of them,” I said, as cheerfully as I could, given that I was as sick of the seemingly endless parade of enrollment paperwork as he was. “By now, every individual in this entire university must have their own personal hand-written copy of our info! Anyway, I doubt they’ll make us fill out anything else just in order to be allowed to eat dinner, or to get in to the orientation entertainment. By the way, did you find out anything about what that’s going to be? Not another ‘motivational’ pep-talk, I hope!”

“Nah. They’ve hired some dude to do a hypnosis show. Pretty cool, huh? I’m thinkin’ maybe I’ll try to get myself hypnotized – see what it’s like.”

“Maybe I’ll try it, too,” I said. It did sound pretty interesting.

“One of us ought to stay awake to watch. Otherwise how will we know what happened? It’d be a total waste of time – no more fun than taking a nap!”

“Well, maybe you’re right. But why shouldn’t you be the one standing watch?”

Chris teased, “’Cause I’m the oldest and I say so. And besides I’ll make for a better show. I’m the good-looking one!” He was cackling like an idiot.

Laughing as well, I gave him a light smack to the back of the head. “You wish, monkey-boy!” But I didn’t bother to argue the point any further. Let him be the one who tried hypnosis; it wasn’t that important. Still giggling, Chris led the way to the dining hall and our dinner. Dorm food – Yecch!

The hypnosis show turned out to be pretty intense. True to his word, Chris made a dash for the stage as soon as the guy asked for volunteers, and he succeeded in snagging one of the seats. I had mixed feelings. I mean, I was envious of the experience he was going to have that I wasn’t, but at the same time I knew I’d have had a problem with someone messing around in my head while there was an audience to witness it. I watched fascinated as the hypnotist Justin Spencer (he was a lot younger than I would have expected, and rather than projecting a comforting air of respectability he had more of a Vegas lounge-lizard vibe to him, but he sure knew his stuff) took the volunteers, including my brother, neatly down into trance. This guy was good! He had a voice like warm honey that just sort of melted into your head and eased you along with whatever he said. I wasn’t the least surprised as I watched Chris’s eyes lose focus and then drift shut. As a matter of fact, I had to blink and shake my head a couple of times to keep from zoning out right along with him. In short order my brother’s posture went from upright to jello, and he sagged over until he finally lost his balance and collapsed into the lap of the hypnotized chick next to him. I hoped he had at least some remaining awareness of reality, because she was really hot, her skirt was really short, and his sleeping face was just inches from the Promised Land. Lucky bastard! Once the volunteers were under, the various bits the hypnotist suggested ran from cute to hilarious, but, as the show progressed and he figured out which of his subjects were the easiest to manipulate, the suggestions became more and more inappropriate. I began to feel very glad that Chris, who was obviously way more vulnerable to suggestion than the average dude and therefore in the thick of the r-rated action, was the one up there and not me. Slow-dancing with another guy may be funny enough, but pretending to give oral sex to a donut as if the hole were a pussy is gross; and sliding your hand down inside your pants to play with yourself in public is just plain outrageous! Towards the end of the show, he sent my brother and a couple of the other guys off stage, and when they returned, each was proudly wearing his own underpants as a hat! At least, unlike those in the case of one of the other poor victimized saps, Chris’s were clean (thanks, Mom). There was a little lull in the action while the hypnotist spoke quietly off mike to each subject in turn, presumably implanting the personal improvement suggestions he’d promised at the beginning of the show. Then he left them all with one last suggestion: for the rest of the evening, any time someone shook their hand they’d experience the sensation of an intense orgasm (but not remember it afterwards, I suppose so they wouldn’t be trying to avoid – or, for that matter, seek out - the next handshake). Before actually sending them back to their seats, he demonstrated, first with the hot chick, who screamed so ecstatically I thought the glass in the stage-lights might crack, and then with my brother. Chris went rigid, making a little gasping moan (I recognized it as the same sound I make when I’m cumming), his hips flexed convulsively, and the front of his jeans, which had tented out almost instantly, darkened from the fluid (remember he was no longer wearing any underwear to help preserve the tattered remnants of his dignity). I was frankly ticked off at the crudeness of it all, but it was way too late for anything to be done about it.

I hustled Chris back to the dorm room we’d be sharing as quickly as I could, to spare him further embarrassing exposure. He didn’t remember a thing that had gone on after the hypnotist began to hypnotize them all, so I filled him in on what he’d been doing. Chris gaped as I went on, and then, when I got to the really raunchy parts, refused to believe it. “Jeez, Carter, that’s disgusting! No way would I ever do that shit in public, hypnotized or not! Why would you say such awful crap?” I finally had to reach over and shake his hand – a couple of times, since he still had no conscious recollection of the orgasms he was having - until his crotch was literally awash with his cum, before he would acknowledge the truth. When he could no longer deny the evidence of his own eyes (or jeans), and had caught his breath, he grated, “That sick bastard!” Then, looking me square in the eye he added, “Touch my hand one more time tonight and you’re a dead man, Bro!”

The atmosphere between us was decidedly awkward as we retired for the night, but by morning Chris was over his snit, and everything seemed back to normal.


But that day was the first of those so-called wrong numbers. It was also (although I didn’t find this out until much later) the first of my brother’s unexplained absences. We each had interviews scheduled for part-time jobs that afternoon (Mom, who was very savvy about such things, had made sure that there was a nice investment portfolio out of Dad’s life insurance to pay for our actual schooling costs, but this was the only way for us to have any regular spending money of our own). We’d flipped a coin to see who went for the coffee shop and who tried the fast food joint, but Chris never made it to his appointment. Yet when I asked how it went, he blandly told me he was just waiting to hear whether he got the job. And that next night was the first time Chris woke me up talking in his sleep (okay, almost woke me up; I didn’t really register it until the next morning except as a kind of cloudy dream of hearing him saying something or other over and over). I don’t know how often he was getting those secretive phone calls, because I only walked in on them a couple of times, and, of course, the mysterious absences went pretty much unnoticed, at least at the time they were happening, so I have no real idea how many of them there were either. But the sleep-talking became such a regular occurrence that, after a week or so, I eventually stopped waking up for it at all. It just existed as a shadowy awareness on the edge of my dream state that the after-hours monolog was still going on.

Two Days Ago

I had just returned to our room after my last class, having walked all the way across campus in a brown study mulling over my concerns. Chris was already there. He shut off his cell phone just as I entered and once again I had that odd sense that I was interrupting something. But all he said was, “Another damn telemarketer robo-call.” Then, after a quick glance at his watch he added, “And now I’m gonna be late. Shit!” He grabbed his jacket and hurried out the door. “Chem lab - don’t how long it’ll take - don’t wait your dinner for me, Bro – see ya later”, he called over his shoulder and he was gone.

“Just typical”, I fumed to myself, “Weird phone-call, and now he’s off to something that may or may not actually be a chem lab!” And then it struck me, “And you’re just sitting here like a complete idiot while he goes!” I grabbed my own jacket and dashed out the door after him. No more guessing and fretting. I was finally going to get to the bottom of this, come hell or high water!

When I got to the street, fortunately I could still see Chris’ blond head, now more than a block away. I put on a burst of speed, startling a couple of coeds who were paying more attention to their gossiping than to their walking, and managed to keep him in sight. Justifying my suspicions, he was heading towards the edge of campus and not remotely in the direction of the chemistry building. Where the heck was he going?

That afternoon, I discovered I possessed unsuspected skills as a stalker. Of course, while we were still on campus it wasn’t all that hard. There were plenty of kids out and about headed in all directions for me to blend in with, and Chris didn’t appear to be especially concerned with checking his back-trail anyway. But when he crossed into the more residential neighborhood to the south, there was much less traffic, foot or vehicle, and I found myself skulking behind parked cars, sticking to shaded spots, in general behaving like some comic B-movie spy. In a way I was lucky no one else noticed me either. They would likely have called the cops about the ‘suspicious prowler’. If I hadn’t been so worried, I would probably have cracked myself up laughing; tailing my brother this way was so “The Hardy Boys and the Mystery of the Missing Twin” (although, with both of us being blond, I don’t know who would have been Frank). Melodrama aside however, I did manage to keep him under surveillance without his ever once becoming aware of me.

After about a twenty minute walk, Chris went up to one of the houses (not any different from the others as far as I could see) and rang the doorbell. The door was opened by a dark-haired older guy (thirties, maybe?). As he ushered my brother inside I did a major double-take. Holy shit! Minus the flamboyant stage costume, it was that hypnotist from the orientation show!! Suddenly all the weirdness began to fall into a pattern: the phone-calls, to make appointments Chris was then helplessly compelled to keep (and lie about); the disappearances, the hours spent in further sessions so that the sleaze could bind him even more firmly under hypnotic control; the sleep-talking, doubtless my hapless bro’s subconscious reaction to the emotional conflict of his unnatural enslavement. The only unanswered question in my mind was why? What did he want with Chris? And I could come up with one plausible (and ugly) answer. As I’ve already mentioned, we’re not bad-looking. It wouldn’t be the first time either of us had received the kind of attention from another guy that we only wanted from girls. I only prayed I was in time to prevent the denouement. If Chris had already become some perv’s mind-controlled fuck-toy I don’t think he’d ever get over it!

I was of two minds whether to call the authorities, or to go for a full frontal assault and just pound on the door. But after my initial shock, it had occurred to me that, as unlikely as I found it, there still might be a more innocent explanation. Chris might be seeing the guy for a more legitimate kind of hypnotherapy, and all the subterfuge was just his attempt to keep me from finding out and worrying about why he thought he needed it. (Of course, if that were the case, hey, big failure there!). I decided a little more snooping was in order. Cautiously I sneaked to the side of the house. One of the windows was slightly ajar, and, although the curtains were drawn, they didn’t quite meet at the center. I could see a slice of the room through the resulting crack without being visible myself, as well as hear what was going on inside.

My brother was seated (or rather, slumped) on a couch, his eyes closed, his face blankly relaxed. It was obvious that he was indeed under hypnosis. I couldn’t see the hypnotist from my vantage point, but I could hear that smooth, honeyed voice.

“…That’s right, Chris… even deeper than that… deeper than ever before… so relaxed and peaceful… you can’t think… can’t resist… there’s nothing but my voice… my words… you obey without question… nothing can disturb you… nothing but my command can awaken you… deeper and deeper… just like that…”

I had that same feeling that I’d had at the show of almost wanting to go along with the soothing drone myself. My eyelids had even begun to flutter a little, but I shook myself back to wakefulness.

“You feel so good now… but it’s very warm in the room, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… hot…” My brother sounded asleep or drugged.

“It’s so hot… and it would feel so-o-o good just to take off all your clothes and be comfortable… Go ahead, Chris… go ahead and strip… take off everything you’re wearing.”

To my horror, my hypnotized brother kicked off his sneakers and then stood, at the same time beginning to unbutton his shirt. Well, so much for innocent explanations! “You make him stop that RIGHT NOW!” I roared. Then I sprinted back to front door and began to pound on it like a demented SWAT teamer.

A moment later the hypnotist opened the door. Even in my agitation, it struck me that he hardly looked as shocked or discomfited by the interruption as I would have expected him to. His apparent poise froze me for a moment as he looked me up and down. “Ah… the twin… Carter, is it? Please come in and calm yourself. I’m sure that once I’ve explained, you’ll realize there’s no need for these histrionics.” He stepped aside to allow me in.

I brushed roughly by him and ran to the room where I knew he was holding Chris. My brother was bare-chest, barefoot and beginning to unzip his jeans. “Jeez, Chris, snap out of it! Wake up!!” But he took absolutely no notice of me. I grabbed his hands away from his now-open fly, but as soon as I let go of them, he calmly went right back to his mindless striptease, undoing the top button and then easing his tight jeans down his legs.

“He only responds to my orders,” the hypnotist said blandly from behind me.

Goddamnit!” I yelled, almost in tears with rage and frustration. “You bring him out of it now!!! The only reason I haven’t beaten you to a bloody pulp is I know I need your voice to free him!”

“Well, yes… there is that. But are you so certain he wants to be freed? Haven’t you ever heard that a hypnotist can’t make a man do something in trance he wouldn’t be willing to do not in trance? Your brother likes what we’ve been doing together here, don’t you, Christian?”

“I like what we’ve been doing here…” My brother’s empty, sleepy agreement did nothing whatsoever to convince me. He sounded like the absolute model of a brainwashed slave, with no more free will than an echo.

“That’s bullshit and you know it! If Chris is so okay with having his mind and body messed with, then why does he talk all night in his sleep from the stress of the unconscious conflict?”

The hypnotist grinned like a shark. “Is that what you think was happening? Oh my goodness, this will be fun! Christian, please explain to your brother.” There was an odd inflection to the word ‘explain’.

Without opening his eyes, my now totally, embarrassingly nude brother said, “Carter, ____.”

My mind spun. What was… he said… something… it was… was… I was suddenly weightless, and warm, and happy, drifting in a tranquil pool of nothingness. My body felt like butter melting in the sun. Strong, gentle hands eased me to the floor as my muscles turned to rubber. All the stress had vanished. Somehow, I knew I too was now hypnotized, but I simply felt too good to care. Nothing mattered except Chris… not my fears… not the hypnotist… I would do anything Chris told me to as long as I could stay in this wonderful (and oddly familiar) feeling…

“Carter… going deeper and deeper, with every breath, with every beat of your heart…” My brother’s voice flowed over my melting will and washed it away completely. After some time (a little? a lot? I couldn’t judge), when he had so thoroughly enchained my mind that I could no longer think for myself, Chris ordered me to undress, and my hands willingly (will-lessly?) complied.

The hypnotist said something to him that I didn’t register, and then Chris commanded me, “Carter, you will now hear and obey Justin just as you obey me. You are completely under his control as well as mine. You are in Justin’s power. Say that.”

“I am in Justin’s power…” Was that blank toneless voice mine?

“Very good, Carter,” the hypnotist smoothly took over the proceedings. “You may open your eyes now, but don’t wake up. You too, Christian.”

My eyes struggled open and opposite me I could see Chris also blinking owlishly. We were both mother-naked now, but I couldn’t manage to care about that.

“Why don’t you both go and sit down on the couch? Side by side. That’s right… just like that. Carter, as you now must realize, your brother wasn’t expressing any subconscious anxieties during the night. He was hypnotizing you. It’s really quite easy to turn the sleep a hypnotizable individual into a trance state. In just one session of hypnotic instruction I was able to teach Christian the basic technique, and he took it from there. Since your brother is so extremely responsive to hypnosis, I gambled that you would be as well. After all, twins have so much in common, don’t they? And I was certainly right. Here you are, so completely hypnotized. You are deeply hypnotized, aren’t you… deeply hypnotized.”

“Deeply hypnotized…” my voice automatically responded, echoed by Chris.

“That’s right. So deeply hypnotized that you’ll believe anything I tell you… do anything I say. Won’t you?”

My peaceful, empty mind couldn’t think of any argument to that. “Yes.” Again, my brother and I answered almost in unison.

“Good, because I have plans for you both.” He picked up a video camera (where had that come from?). “Christian, Carter, you love your brother, don’t you?”

Well, DUH!! “Yes…”

“Of course you do. I want you to show your brother how much you love him… physically”

Okay, that was totally weird. I mean, Chris and I aren’t the kind of up-tight dweebs who spend their lives pretending they don’t have arms, so we’ve exchanged hugs often enough, on birthdays, Christmas, at hard-fought sporting contests (and since we were both on our high-school swim team, some of those were even bare-chest and wet). But we’d never before had full-on naked body contact with each other, and, other than, as I’ve mentioned before, jacking off together a couple of times in our early teens when we were still figuring out how jacking off worked, we’ve never had any kind of real sex with each other; we like girls! However, before I could process my discomfort, let alone act on it, my arms had already wrapped themselves around Chris (and his around me).

As we embraced, Justin continued, “That’s right. You’ve probably never really noticed until now how wonderful it feels to touch your brother; how good his smooth skin feels under your hands, how satisfying it is to squeeze his hard muscles. It feels so good you can’t let go. You have to continue to hug and caress him… to make love to him.”

The hypnotist continued to talk, and, at some level, I was continuing to listen; I had no choice. But my focus was completely filled with the awareness of Chris in my arms. It was all true, just as Justin had said. In all the times my brother and I had hugged, for whatever reason, it had always been about the camaraderie, the brotherly love, the shared emotional experience. It had never before been about the actual physical sensation. I’d never noticed the warm, satiny quality of his skin under my hands as they traced the sculpted contours of his back, nor the smooth, satisfying solidity of him pressed against my body; never noticed that, at exactly the same height, we fit together perfectly; never felt the frisson of my nipples rubbing against his chest, or the exclamation point of his against mine; never registered that our hearts beat in exactly the same rhythm and speed, that the scent of our heated bodies was identical. And I was beginning to get turned on! Had Justin suggested that? I couldn’t tell. My mind was simply too hypnotized to judge, and holding my brother was both as unreal as a wet-dream and, at the same time, the most hyper-intense, concentrated reality I’d ever experienced. My cock was getting harder and harder.

My lips felt like magnets being drawn to Chris’ mouth. Wait… that had to be a hypnotic suggestion. I tried to resist it, but I might as well have tried to resist the incoming tide. My brother’s sleepy face drew nearer and nearer, his beautiful eyes glazed and half-closed, his expression blank, and I stopped trying to fight my compulsion. His lips looked so soft and inviting that I just had to taste them. Our lips met, locked, opened into the deepest, wettest, most thorough kiss I’ve ever experienced. As our tongues dueled and our bodies continued to strain and rub against each other, I had a fleeting sense that this must be what the girls feel when I make out with them. Getting it on with my twin brother was weirdly masturbatory, like a hypno-dream of making love with myself.

Chris’s hand found my erection and began to fondle it, causing me to groan helplessly with pleasure. It felt just like my own hand; and just as familiar and intimately knowledgeable about my preferences. Almost instinctively I followed suit, grasping his moist hard-on. His cock felt just like my own to my stroking hand, and I quickly fell into a rhythm, long-accustomed from my own use, one that matched his perfectly.

The pleasure built and built, but somehow we weren’t getting to the climax. It wasn’t enough… My brother had relinquished my mouth by this point and was working his down. I suddenly realized that he had the right idea. I needed to suck him. Wait!! I’m not a cocksucker and neither is Chris! These weren’t my thoughts… it was another suggestion! But try as I might, Justin’s hypnotic voice was so entrenched in my thoughts that I couldn’t separate it out. His orders had become indistinguishable from my own will… were my will. My body helplessly adjusted itself into a sixty-nine configuration with Chris. I had a momentary view of his hard cock, so like looking at my own, but from an angle I could never have achieved, and then, as I felt my brother’s hot mouth envelop my dick, my own lips opened to engulf his erection. I seemed to know how to use my tongue to protect him from my teeth, how to relax my throat muscles to accommodate his length, and my delighted cock told me Chris was just as adroit. It was instinctive, or else the constant drone of the hypnotist’s words contained some instruction as well as compulsion. My hands played with his ball-sac and then began to finger his ass, and I could feel him doing the same to me. It felt incredible.

I’ve eaten my share of pussy and, frankly, not that big a fan of the flavor, so, with what little personal awareness I had left, I’d expected to be at least somewhat repulsed. But Chris’s hard cock, juicy with pre-cum, was delicious! This was great! My new favorite flavor and smell! Had Justin just said that? It didn’t matter any longer. I just knew I had to have more… had to have it filling my mouth, had to have it all over my face. I was permanently addicted. I knew I’d never get enough of my brother’s cock, my brother’s cum! I sucked away with a passion and felt Chris intensify his suctioning on me as well. I was nearing the edge, and in my hands I felt my brother’s scrotum contract. Then the hypnotist’s voice, like a cataclysmic thunder-clap through my awareness, commanded, “Cum now!”, and I was caught up in the most seismically intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced. My mouth was flooded with Chris’s juice as he came at exactly the same time. Our thrashing bodies pulled us apart from each other so that at least the last two remaining blasts of jizz escaped our mouths and splashed across each other’s faces. I was so excited by the smell and feel of that, that, scarcely had the first wave of orgasm ended when I was shooting another load, all over my brother’s face. And, at the same time, I felt the warm gush of his second orgasm splash across my lips and cheeks.

Shakily Chris and I sat back up. The sight of my cum smeared all over his beloved face filled me with such tenderness that I pulled him into my arms again. The smell of my load was the same as the smell of his and our damp, flushed faces mixed the two together as we kissed gently, over and over, basking in the afterglow.

Then the irresistible voice of the hypnotist commanded, “Carter, Christian, sleep deeply, minds blank,” and I plummeted into darkness.

“… so you see there was no reason for you to be upset. Chris wasn’t cheating on you. He was just coming to me for help with his study habits,” Justin was saying pleasantly.

I seemed to have zoned out there for a moment, probably excess relief at the innocent explanation. I looked sheepishly at my brother. “Sorry I over-reacted, bro, Mr. Spencer.”

Chris smiled lovingly. “It’s okay, Carter. I think it’s kind of sweet you can still be jealous over me. But you know you’re the only one I love; always have been, always will be.” He leaned over and kissed me.

Apologizing once more to the hypnotist (what a nice guy!), I pulled Chris to his feet and we started our exit. But, you know that psychic twin thing. As we exchanged a glance I just knew what Chris was thinking, and I was thinking the same thing: we really owed Justin more than just an apology. And I thought I knew what would be most appropriate. As one, Chris and I fell to our knees and I began to undo the hypnotist’s fly.