The Convention (hypno)

The crowd at this year’s comic book convention was twice what it was last year, Don thought as he walked around, and he was loving every minute of it.

It was just last year that Don came to this convention, having no idea what kind of impact that weekend would have on him. The six-foot-three blond was already built back then, but the guys he saw at the convention were monsters compared to him. It was like something switched on his head, and that he knew right there and then that he had found his type: the muscleboy comic book fanboy. It seemed like any direction he looked, there was some hot fucking stud in a tight t-shirt with a superhero’s emblem on it, or in an actual superhero costume. Superman. Batman. Captain America. Spider-Man. Green Lantern. Wolverine. It seemed like there was at least one person there dressed as any character Don could think of. Leaving the convention that day, the idea had already been planted in his head. He knew what he had to do over the next 12 months before next year’s convention.

And here he was, one year later, one of those muscleboys in costume that he got so turned on by last year. He’d spent the last year working out even harder and focusing on his diet to get as big as he could. For the last 6 months he let his hair grow out to shoulder length, and he stopped shaving a week ago. Just as he’d been planning for a year, Don came to this year’s convention as the biggest, most ripped Thor he could possibly be.

Dressed as the “sleeveless” Thor, the shirt with its four metal discs, hugged every contour of his flaring chest and hard nipples. The shirt ended right at his shoulders leaving the rock hard upper and lower arms completely exposed. An enormous leather belt, and just below that, an enormous bulge and thick, round thighs, and knee-high “Thor” boots that encased his huge, round calves. It was all made so much hotter, thanks to the silver, winged helmet and the flowing red cape.

The crowd just kept coming to him... or coming on to him, for that matter. Some stopping to ask for a picture with him. Some telling him what a great costume he had on, making any excuse to cop a feel on his arms and shoulders. Don had to admit all of the attention turned him on, but thankfully his costume managed to keep his sizeable cock under control. Not only was he now one of the costumed muscleboys he ogled at last year, he was one of the biggest, and he ate up every single bit of it.

“You’ve got a great costume there, Thor,” the voice said from behind in Don’s ear. He turned around and found himself eye to eye with Mesmero, the Marvel Comics mutant supervillain whose ability was the power to hypnotize anyone with as little as a glance. And anyone who fell under Mesmero’s hypnotic spell would do anything they were instructed to do without question.

Whoever this guy was he definitely had the body and the costume almost perfect. The guy was the right height for Mesmero, about 5’8” or 5’9” and weighed at least two hundred pounds, Don guessed. His skin covered in green body-paint rippled with rock hard, veiny muscles. His broad shoulders supported the large collar that covered the top half of his meaty, thick smooth chest and held the long, purple cape in place. At the end of the muscular green arms were purple gloves that ended in a wide flare halfway up the veiny forearms. Sitting right below his defined abs was a large, purple belt with the letter “M” in the middle. Coming out of the bottom of the belt was the lower half of a purple tunic that just barely covered the stud’s crotch and ass, and the powerful quads and calves came down into a pair of purple boots. His face was chiseled with high cheekbones and a square jaw.

“Thanks, you look pretty amazing yourself. My name’s Don, by the...” he replied as he moved his eyes slowly back up the tight, ripped body, and met Mesmero’s eyes, which were deep and green, a green that Don felt so familiar with, so comfortable with, so happy with. Don found himself completely fascinated by them and couldn’t look away.

“That’s right, Thor,” Mesmero’s eyes said. “Look into my eyes. Look so deep, Thor.”

Those words slithered into Don’s mind, and Don found himself doing as he was told, and that made him feel so good. So free. Liberating.

The green glow of Mesmero’s eyes seemed to grow, and Don could feel himself being pulled deeper into the intensity and demands of their stare. The more he stared, the greener and more bottomless they seemed to get. He let out a tiny gasp as his cock started to grow hard in his underwear.

“Deeper, Thor. That’s right, look deeper. Look as deep as you can. Then look deeper, Thor. My eyes are bottomless. Allow yourself to float inside their green emptiness.”

“Yes... Mesmero.” Don’s eyes answered, his cock growing even stiffer the deeper he allowed himself to sink into the bottomless green. He could feel his whole body and mind being sucked inside that expanding, possessive color, losing himself, his name, his identity. He could hear Mesmero and the noises around him, but they seemed to be coming from the end of some long tunnel. Muted. Distant. More unintelligible with each breath he took.

Then Mesmero’s eyes said, “You are no longer Don. Don is but a fading memory. Every breath you exhale, that person is fading into the foggy, unimportant background. You crave being someone else. Someone more strong. More powerful. More submissive. Your power hides your true inner self. A powerful, muscled, controlled, submissive God. You ARE Thor. YOU. ARE. THOR!”

“I... am... Thor...” Suddenly, everything around Don seemed to stretch away from him like a rubber band and all that was left was Mesmero and Thor, locked in an ever-deepening stare. The man Thor used to be was no longer.

“Thor,” the eyes called to him. “Come to me, Thor.”

“Yes, Mesmero. I will come to you,” Thor’s eyes and body answered in return.

“Follow me,” Mesmero’s eyes instructed Thor. “And go deeper with every breath and step that you take.” And deeper Thor went. Every exhale tethered his mind to Mesmero’s. Every step shoved Thor deeper into the comfort of his voice. Warm, like a the cocoon of a warm, arousing blanket. Coating him. Surrounding him. Oozing in through every pore.

As Thor followed Mesmero, a kid passing them in the crowd said to his friend, “Check it out! Mesmero’s got Thor hypnotized!! Can I get your picture?!”

Every time! Every damn time! Mesmero thought to himself as he rolled his eyes as if to say, “Oh... alriiiiight.” He did his now standard, obligatory “evil super-villain with hypnotic powers” pose for the camera, arms extended, fingers spread and pointing toward Thor in a classic magician/hypnotist pose. Thor, unable to move or break free of Mesmero’s stare, stood at attention, motionless and obedient, mindlessly playing his part. The camera flashed. “Thanks guys, great costumes!” the kid said as he and his friend scampered off into the crowd.

Mesmero pulled Thor deeper with his stare and continued taking him through the convention crowd. As he followed, Thor kept going deeper and deeper, with a growing desire to never reach the bottom. They made their way to a remote corner of the convention floor. In that corner was large convention banner hanging from floor to ceiling, and in front of it was a huge, thick bodybuilder-sized bouncer standing guard. He was wearing a tight, black t-shirt with was the word “Security” stretched across his shirt. Upon seeing the two men approaching, the man stiffened and turned to say, “I’m sorry, but this area is restricted.” His voice was deep, his tone flat.

“Stand at ease, my brainwashed bouncer,” Mesmero hissed, and upon hearing Mesmero’s voice, the man relaxed.

“Yes, my Master Mesmero,” the bouncer replied.

Smiling, Mesmero sidled up beside the bouncer and slid his fingers around the man’s chin. He then gently guided the man’s face towards his so that he could look directly into the man’s eyes.

“You have been serving me well, my brainwashed bouncer, and for that I give you the gift of blissful pleasure,” Mesmero said as his eyes glowed green, and the bouncer gasped as his cock grew very hard in his jeans and his mind melted. “You will stay in this state for the next few hours, but you will continue to turn away any trespassers who come this way, but will remember those whom you believe I should have a chat with later, is that understood?”

“Y-y-yes, my M-Master Mesmero,” the bouncer said, trying to control his pleasure. He stood aside to let Mesmero and Thor through before resuming his position as sentry.

Mesmero then took Thor behind the banner, and through a door into a large, dimly lit room, hidden away from the rest of the convention. As the door shut behind him and Thor’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room what he saw would have shocked him had he been awake.

“This is your fate, Thor. One by beautiful one, they have all fallen under my hypnotic powers. All of them, so anxious to submit themselves to me. All of them so obedient, so mindless. So ready to serve my will,” Mesmero spoke directly into Thor’s emptying mind, glazed eyes and rock hard cock. Seeing the reaction, Mesmero whispered, “That’s right Thor. Even THAT is mine now. You have no choice. You don’t want a choice. You don’t need a choice. You belong beside them.”

“Them” was six other muscleboys costumed as their favorite heroes: a beefed-up coffee house barista wearing a Captain America uniform; a PhD mathematics student who shed his Clark Kent demeanor to become Superman; a bodybuilder and personal trainer who easily filled the Hulk’s shoes (if the Hulk wore any); a freelance website designer who had enough free time to fashion himself into Hercules; a software programmer who went as a hardcore Colossus; and a bicycle messenger-of-the-gods, the mercurial Flash.

Each and every one of them, a costumed, muscled fan that Mesmero had selected one by one, hypnotized and brought to this room for further, deeper conditioning and programming. Each superhero was the perfect muscleboy comic book fanboy. Each costume fit perfectly. Every muscle was taut and veiny in obedience and readiness to obey Mesmero’s commands. Every cock was stiff inside their costumes with obedience and surrender to Mesmero’s will. Each superhero was encased in a large tube, a metallic helmet on each of their heads with wires running up into the machinery on the top of the tube. All of them were standing completely still, eyes wide in emptiness, each focused on a spiral that was floating in front of each of them, washing them of their control, resistance and will. As the spiral throbbed, so did their cocks. As the lights within each tube pulsed from bright to dim and back to bright again, each superhero’s mindlessness was increasing and pulsing in synch with the lights. At the end of the row of tubes containing the entrapped heroes, there were three empty ones ready to be filled. Mesmero moved in front of Thor and stared deeply into his blue eyes. “Assume your place, Thor. Become one with my will and desire for you,” Mesmero said pointing to one of the three empty tubes.

“Yes, Mesmero. Thor hears and obeys,” Thor’s eyes answered, a blissful rush of obedience. Obeying the command given to him, Thor stepped into the tube. “Remove your helmet and give it to me,” Mesmero’s eyes demanded of his new muscled, superhero trophy. Thor once again obeyed, removing his helmet and handing it to Mesmero.

As he did, the glass tube came down from the ceiling and with a “hissss” as it sealed itself to the floor, sealing the Thunder God inside. The metallic helmet the other heroes had on their heads descended on to Thor’s head. As soon as it made contact, Thor could feel the power of Mesmero’s will pushing the remnants of his mind out. Feeling his mind draining and being replaced made Thor’s cock throb even harder than it already was. The blinkless blue eyes staring off into nothingness welcomed the release. The orgasm of emptiness flooded Thor’s body and empty mind. As he let himself go to the helmet’s draining powers, a holographic spiral appeared in front of him, and the lights in his tube began to grow bright, then dim, then returning to their original brightness. Over and over. Bright, dim, bright. As the lights continued their rhythm, a sound began penetrating Thor’s brain. Repetitive. Pulsing. In opposite strength to the light’s rhythm. As the lights grew dimmer, the sound became stronger, and as the lights grew brighter, the sound became softer. That coupled with the throbbing of the spiral was pushing and pulling on Thor’s brain. Like Silly Putty being worked by strong, powerful hands, the spiral, the lights and the sound was turning Thor’s mind into a fine, soft, malleable, suggestible, obedient lump. Open. Ready. Obedient. Compliant.

Once he could see that the tube and its machinery had started its work reprogramming Thor’s mind and body, Mesmero turned and made his way toward the secret room’s exit. Taking one last glance back at the beautiful row of encased heroes, Mesmero left the room for the convention floor once again. One by one, with every return, his collection had grown. And now Mesmero knew exactly who needed to be added next.


“Great costumes,” the voice said from behind.

“Thanks,” said the rippling, muscleboy dressed as a perfect 1950s Batman. The deep blue eyes radiated sheer giddiness that someone noticed him and his costume. The wide, hard pecs flared with each breath making the bat emblem expand and contract. Broad shoulders held the massive, black cape. The costume was form fitting and highlighted every contour of his abs, the strong crotch and ass, and the enormous legs.

“Yeah thanks, man. It’s our first year, and we wanted to look kick ass,” Batman’s sidekick, Robin, said. He was shorter than Batman, but just as built. A perfect 1950s Boy Wonder outfit. Nice, round biceps stretching the sleeves. Behind the red shirt the “R” on it, thick, meaty pecs. An impressive bulge and a rock hard muscle ass in skintight green briefs followed by powerful thighs and calves, ending in green ankle boots.

“Oh! Your first year, eh?” Mesmero said, staring at the two simultaneously, making both think Mesmero was looking only at them individually. “How exciting for you this all must be. And it’s about to get a whole lot better,” Mesmero said, eyes beginning to glow slightly.

“What makes you say that?” Robin asked.

“Just a hunch,” the glowing eyes said. “Would you two mind if I took a picture of you?”

“N-n-no. Not at all...”, Batman mouthed. “Who by...the way?” he asked trying to study the man in green costume with purple cape, gloves and boots.

“Now Batman, now Robin. I want you to look at the lens. Focus on the lens. On the count of three. 1... 2... 3.”

They focused on the lens as Mesmero told them. For a split second, they could see the shutter twist open as if in slow motion. It spiraled open onto a deep emptiness behind the shutter. Dark. Bottomless. Inviting.


The flash went off as the man took the picture. The flash from the camera seemed to linger in Batman and Robin’s eyes longer than usual. The steady, round afterimage from the flash started to spiral. Around and around, getting stronger, not fading, expanding, blocking out all other things in either of their fields of vision. Just a soft, warm, white spiral pushing them deeper, making them harder. Hearing no other sounds except the voice ringing blissfully in their heads.

“Who am I?” he said leaning forward between the two immobile superheroes. “I’m Mesmero,” he whispered. “Now, come with me and I will show you the best part about the convention,” Mesmero said leading them toward the door in the corner of the show floor.

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