Vagued in Vegas (mm mc)

Copyright © 2004

Specially for Hyptrance

The Cast:

View the dream cast for Vagued in VegasSOMEBODY CALL SECURITY

Whalen Glessano liked taking control and manipulating others almost as much as he liked handsome young men. As was his custom, Whalen made his way into the security booth that monitored his tiny portion of Las Vegas' entertainment kingdom. Squeezing his way past the security monitor team who made their way to and from a variety of monitors and engaged in whispered exchanges on handheld radios, Whalen moved straight to the man at the far end of the room. The man in charge. "What's the word, Hal?"

Hal considered turning away from the four monitors he was watching simultaneously to greet Whalen, thought better of it, stayed where he was. "You want the actual, relevant word on the security status of one of Vegas's busiest hotel casinos, or are you just chasing your usual rainbow?"

Whalen leaned against Hal's control console. "C'mon, Hal. It's another Opportunity Night for me. Find me a celebrity. Just one celeb. That's all I ask. Preferably an actor."

Hal growled low in his throat, swiveled a camera to get a better look at a table with a high roller in area 12. "I have the list of requirements, Whalen. I know the drill. Actor, athlete, or singer, male, buff, between the ages of 19 and 24, or later twenties if sufficiently beefcakesque, yadda, yadda, yadda." And into a small radio clipped to his collar, he added, "Michael. Table ten. Watch this guy. Keep your eye on his left hand as he drops it to his hip pocket. Done it twice now, prior to scoring."

Through a soft hiss comes, "Got it."

Whalen patted Hal on the shoulder. "You are the master of Big Brother's roving eye, man. Just track me down a good one. No rush, no pressure. I just need it by tonight's show."

Hal's eyes darted to a nearby digital clock in the corner of his display. "Shit, you don't ask for much, do you?"

"You're good at this. You have a gift. I swear to you the hotel will still be standing after you make a quick sweep. One. Hot. Male. Celebrity."

This time Hal did swivel in his chair to face Whalen. "What is it with you? We're in goddamn Las Vegas for the love of Christ, and you can't find some swoon-worthy actor walking down the street to tag for your stupid hypno act? You can't swing a dead cat in this town without hitting a dozen soap opera players and movie stars. What the hell do you need me for?" Something caught Hal's eye and he jerked back to his screens. Into his collar radio, he said, "Jerome. For Pete's sake, get that kid away from the floral arrangement before she kills herself, willya?"

Again, under the hiss, "I see her. Taken care of."

Whalen leaned in close to Hal, his voice soft and purring. "Hal, I know it's an imposition. I appreciate that. And I appreciate you." His tonality became low, soothing, almost alluring. Hal blinked. Once, twice. "But you know how rare it is that a relative unknown like me gets an answer to one of his invites. Tonight I have a guest. But just one. For what I want to do to hi--", he paused. A deep breath. "--to do on stage to work, I will need two men. Two. The same thing happened when I got a reply from Nick Stabile. I only had him on stage. Just the one. You couldn't find a partner for him that night, and the evening was wasted."

Hal was blinking more and more now. Thickly, he answered, "I saw tha' show. Was really good."

"Yes, it was a good show, but I had something else planned for following the main--" Whalen stopped, realizing his voice was rising, becoming a bit grating. He paused, swallowing, then continued. "There needs to be two, that's all. And I have someone coming tonight. Someone I've actually wanted to get for a while now. And he has to have a partner, Hal. You understand that, don't you?"

Hal stared at his screens, but seemed not to see them. "Still don' get it...lots and lotsa stars all over the place..."

"I really would prefer one who hadn't arrived amidst fanfare and was surrounded by a horde of toadies and bodyguards, Hal. I need the guy who just wanted to get out for a night and have some fun under the radar." Whalen pointed toward the screens. "And you can find him for me." He whispered almost imperceptibly in Hal's ear. "Can't you now?"

Hal's fingers glided swiftly and smoothly across his console. Images flashed across his monitor screens, cutting rapidly from one room to another. From casino to stage show to restaurant to hallway to ballroom. Whalen couldn't keep up with all the faces, the locations, but Hal's eyes never missed a trick. Under his breath, Hal muttered the names of all the celebrity faces he saw and recognized. But because of the way Hal's mind ran, most of them were women.

Like the soft whistle of a spring breeze, Whalen whispered low, "Men, Hal. Focus on the men."

Hal switched gears, his fingers and eyes still working their magic. He was indeed targeting gentlemen now, but Whalen had to pay closer attention to the security head's mutterings, as the ran along the lines of, "...that one guy from doctor show...the hardware and home repair man..."

Whalen stood, still leaned over with anticipation, shaking his head. No, no, and no. Too old, too fat, too ugly, too easily missed. None of these would do. It was Nick Stabile all over again. Plenty of stars in their retirement, but no one particularly hot. No one who fit the--Whalen paused, raising an eyebrow. "Jesus, is that guy even still alive? Huh." He was about to give up, to just resolve to have the most fun he could with his star boy solo tonight and be happy for that much. Then Hal mumbled something else.

"...heyy...that guy from Vegas show..."

Whalen stopped. "Who, Hal? Robert Urich?" He'd be too old, anyway.

" one..."

The new Vegas show? Las Vegas? "Who then, James Caan?"

Hal's voice, while sluggish, sounded a little perturbed. "...nnoooo...the young one...plays'a cop or whatever..."

Whalen felt the hair son the back of his neck prickle. Oh, let it be so. "Josh Duhamel??"

"...thass himm..." Hal simply pointed to the upper right screen, and there was the wavy-headed, hunky delight himself. It was indeed Joshua Duhamel, star of the television series based in their very own town.

Whalen's heart jumped. "Hal, I could kiss you."

Hal smirked. " y'don't...just wake me the fugg upp...I know alllll bout whachoo do a'me here, buddy buoy..."

Whalen grinned, pressing three fingers to the base of Hal's skull. "With pleasure, my friend. You've more than earned this." Whalen applied a slight pressure behind Hal's head, and the security chief sprang to full wakefulness as wave after intense wave of sheerest delight rippled through his body.

"Uhh! UHHH!!" He twitched for a moment in his chair, then took in a deep breath as he readjusted himself. A few of his crew turned around to see if he was alright. He did his best to compose himself, waving their concerned looks away with an attempt at a bored expression. He then looked up at Whalen. "Damn, man, how do you DO that? That's better than a cup of coffee to bring you back to life, I'll tellya." Then he added, in a conspiratorial whisper. "It's better than Viagra, too. Damn, I'm up and at 'em now!"

"I don't do anything, Hal", Whalen answered. "I just let you let yourself do it." Whalen produced a cell phone from his breast pocket and hit speed dial setting 21. Half a ring, then it picked up. "Bernice? There's a dashing gentleman one flight down from you whom I'd like very, very much to be at the show tonight. Yes, he is. Tall, muscular, splendid chin and thick hair. He's in the Gold Room, for the moment. Table fourteen. In the navy blue pullover. Yes, if you would, please. Anything he wants. Thank-you, Bernice, you're a gem. Ta."

Whalen returned the phone to his pocket, barely able to believe that after all his planning and endless anticipation, he might just pull this thing off after all. Hal looked up at him. "So ya happy now? I can go back to doing my job here?"

"I'm beginning to feel happier, anyway", Whalen smiled.

"So is this going to make your act the big event you were aiming for, then? Almost a shame you'll finally leave me alone in that I guess I'll never get another one of those little back-of-the-head pleasure jolts you're so good at."

Whalen leaned back down to his friend again. "Hal old buddy, if this works the way I hope it will, I'll give you one of those little cerebral orgasms that will last all fucking day."


The ballroom regulated for Whalen's hypnosis act was booked wall to wall. It had become common knowledge that once a month Whalen brought in a celebrity to use as the featured subject of his stage hypnotism performance. It had started out some time ago as a surprise event, with Whalen foregoing his usual routine of bringing at least half a dozen volunteers up on stage to call up a single celeb for the spotlight. Now this attraction was so eagerly anticipated each month that the only real surprise left was what mystery guest would take the stage.

Whalen took the stage to a cacophony of cheers and whistles. On any other day, he was act was more or less run of the mill, if it a bit more risqué than most in places. But this was celebrity day. For a while, Whalen had rotated the celebrity focus day in order to pack the room more frequently with audiences eager to see a star get hypnotized, but not knowing if their ticket day would be the one to satisfy that. It turned out to have the opposite effect, and sales dropped. So now it was the same day each time. The third Friday of every month, Whalen had a star take the stage and undergo hypnotic playtime.

"Welcome, all!", Whalen said. He looked sharp in his classic black tux, an outfit he wore only on celebrity night, preferring dress casual on other performances. "I guess you all know what tonight is." A round of applause. "So without the usual preamble, let's get right to the fun and mind games! You've all seen this handsome gent in such popular television series as Black Sash and Charmed." A ripple of anticipatory whispers went through the crowd. "Now we're privileged to have him here with us. Please, everyone- a warm welcome for Drew FULLer!"

Drew leapt up from his table in the front row, much tot he shock and surprise of a few young ladies who were seated nearby and didn't realize who he was. Drew strode quickly up the steps to the stage to share a warm handshake with Whalen. Drew took a bow and waved to the more enthusiastic ladies (and a few men) in the audience.

"Well, Drew", Whalen asked, "are you all ready to be hypnotized?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess", Drew smirked. Then, in a low whisper only Whalen could hear, he added, "Just remember what we talked about, okay? No barking like a dog, no clucking like a chicken, none of that shit."

Whalen made a disgusted frowny-face, shaking his head ever so slightly, and whispered back, "Strictly low class. We're above that here." Drew gave a curt nod of agreement. Then, to the audience, Whalen announced, "Now, some of you may not know how we do things around here on celebrity night. Unlike those times we work with audience volunteers, you don't get to see the full hypnotic induction onstage. Drew here was good enough to meet with me backstage beforehand and be put under in preparation for tonight's show so we could spend more time getting down to business!" The audience applauded in appreciation. A couple scantily-clad Vegas showgirls pranced out carrying a chair, and set it on the stage behind Drew.

"Now, if you'd be good enough to take a seat, Drew." Drew did so, and as Whalen seemed to lean in to adjust his posture, he whispered, "Was dinner okay?" He had comped Drew's meal, as well as his bar tab, among other things.

Drew grinned. "Oh, yeah. And the suite, and the casino chips, and the limo. You really know how to treat your guests here."

Whalen smiled. "I can be persuasive that way." Standing up and addressing the crowd, Whalen went on, "Since the good Mr. Fuller is already conditioned for hypnosis, all we need do is get him relaxed and ready to go. You relaxed, Drew?"


"You ready to go under for these fine people's enjoyment?" Drew gave him the thumbs-up. "Good! Now all we need do is put you to sleep. What was that trigger phrase we gave you backstage, anyway?"

Drew smirked, shaking his head. "Like I'd remember." This got a chuckle from the onlookers.

Whalen snapped his fingers. "Oh, right! Right! It had something to do with one of the programs you've appeared in, didn't it?"

A few over-anxious girls in the audience cried out things like "White lighter!" and "Judo!" Whalen held up an admonishing hand, and quickly reminded the audience that maintaining quiet at the outset was crucial. Whalen rested a hand on the back of Drew's chair, and pondered aloud, "Was it...Charmed?"

Drew just sat there. He looked up at Whalen. "Guess not."

"How about Black Sash? Feel any different? Sleepy at all?" Drew shook his head. "Home of the Brave? Close Call? One, maybe?" Drew shrugged sheepishly.

Then Whalen took a step away from Drew, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we need to go with some a little less well known. Something like that, um...what was that one horror flick you did about the kids at the Christian college with the evil headmistress?"

Drew looked down at his feet, shaking his head. "Oh, mannn..."

Whalen's expression brightened. "Oh yes! It was--", and his voice took on an ominous tone, "--Voodoo Academy." And he snapped his fingers for emphasis. Drew's head slumped forward instantly, ever bit of tension gone from his body. He was out like a light. The house went silent immediately. Even the few people who had actually recognized the name of Drew's old movie ceased any whispered comments to one another when they saw how completely the handsome celebrity was under. Whalen walked around Drew and lifted up his arm, which hung from his grip like a limp rag. Whalen let go of it, and it flopped down to Drew's lap like the lifeless limb of a scarecrow.

Whalen took a casual stroll around Drew's chair again before asking softly, "Are you still with us, Drew?"

Dully, Drew answered back, his head still hung low, "Yes."

"You think you're hypnotized, Drew?"

A moment's pause, then, "I...don't know."

"Let's find out. Stand up, buddy." Drew did so, his head still drooping, his eyes still closed. Gently, Whalen put his fingers beneath Drew's chin and raised his head. "Open your eyes, Drew." Drew opened his eyes, which somehow seemed glazed and lifeless. His posture was a bit slumped. He had the look of a sleepwalker.

"How ya feelin', Drew?"

"Good. Comfortable."

"You feel pretty relaxed, then? Free of tension?"

Drew's expression remained blank. "Uh-huh."

"You're wrong, Drew. Your body is stiff as a board. You're stuck standing at full attention and your torso and limbs are as immobile as iron." Whalen's voice was commanding, though he had not raised his tone an iota. Drew snapped to attention, feet together, arms stiff at his sides. With his forced posture, his glazed expression suddenly looked less sleepy and more helpless. Whalen stood next to Drew and spoke directly into his ear. "You can't move a muscle, Drew. You're like a statue. You're arms and legs are frozen. You can't speak. You can't even blink. What do you say we check with our audience to see if they think you're hypnotized, hmm?" No response.

Whalen stepped behind Drew and with both hands gave his back a good push. Drew toppled forward like the statue he now was, face first right toward the first row of spectators. There was a gasp from the crowd, and Whalen, with lightning speed, zipped to the edge of the stage and caught the petrified Drew from a squatting position. Whalen had done this trick many times, and maintained an impressive upper body strength because of it, but it never failed to wow an audience. Whalen slowly straightened his legs, but kept the frozen Drew down at arm's length, lifted only about six inches from the stage. Whalen looked out at the audience, remarking, "Looks like he's pretty well under to me, what do you think?"

The crowd applauded their approval as Whalen slowly stood Drew back up onto his feet. His expression was unchanged. It was clear that Drew was now completely under the hypnotist's control. Before the applause died down, the two showgirls deftly slipped in and silently lifted up the chair and carried it offstage. Whalen was set to run Drew through his paces, and he'd need the room.

The lights on stage shifted from general broad illumination to rotating spotlights. Whalen set up Drew like a department store display dummy and took a few steps back. The spotlights sought out Drew and focused on him. He was the star now, Whalen just the conductor, the choreographer.

Whalen turned to the audience. "What do you ladies say we see a little bit more of our friend Drew here, eh?" Cheers and catcalls came back encouraging this train of thought. Whalen looked back to Drew, saying, "Drew, you're no longer a statue. In fact, you've just gone through a wonderful and invigorating workout. It's time to get cleaned up. You're in the showers now. You can feel the slight spray of the water coming from the shower head, the warmth of the building steam." Drew's shoulders relaxed, his eyes closed and his head titled back a bit. All that Whalen described, he was feeling.

"That shower sounds really good right now, doesn't it, Drew?"

Drew seemed almost in ecstasy. "Mm-hmmm..."

"Well, you'd better get undressed then, Drew. Go hit the showers." Immediately, Drew reached down and began to peel off his shirt. Laughter and cheers of encouragement came from the house. Whalen said, "Perhaps we need some more appropriate music for this. We are in Vegas, after all." Whalen waved his fingers like a magician and on cue the sound booth started pumping in a striptease tune of bump and grind music through the overhead speakers. Oblivious, Drew continued to strip.

Drew pulled his shirt off over his head and let it drop to the floor. Whalen slipped in quickly and snatched it out of the way. Drew was slender, but he was built rock hard. His defined muscles and six pack abs were highlighted by the shining spots. Drew then easily kicked off his shoes. No socks. As Whalen collected the discarded footwear, Drew unbuttoned his pants, garnering a series of whistles to which he was oblivious.

Whalen held up a hand as he passed the shoes on to the showgirls in the wings. "That's enough, Drew. You're undressed now." This got some disappointed groans from the groupies in the audience. Whalen stage-whispered into the microphone, "It's not that kind of show, kids." It earned him a brief laugh. He turned back toward Drew and prompted him to go ahead with his imaginary shower. "Soap yourself up, Drew."

Drew began with his chest and almost mechanically started rubbing his pecs and his abs. But Whalen wanted more than your average scrub-down for his audience. "Boy, Drew", he said, "this shower feels sooooo good. There's something in the water, so warm, so soothing. And the aroma of the soap, it's so heady and crisp, almost intoxicating. Take a whiff of that fragrance...oohhhhh, yeaahhhh..." As bidden, Drew took a big whiff of his imaginary bar of soap and his eyes closed involuntarily, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Drew gave a soft groan of satisfaction and started anew. Now his rubbing was in a slower, circular motion, his fingers groping and caressing. His head titled back, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open. The audience grew more quiet as Drew's self-caressing left his arms and pecs and drifted to this shoulders...his neck...his head bobbed forward then jerked back...his arms quivered slightly, his hands rubbing over his abs...then both hands met at his crotch, palms flat, rubbing, pressing, pushing. Drew's hands came together at his crotch, one palm pressed atop the other, firm pressure applied in hard downward strokes, his arms stiffening. Drew's mouth fell open wide. He gasped, his head falling back, closed eyelids fluttering.

"Whoops! Water's been shut off, Drew!", Whalen said suddenly. "Aww, too bad, you're wonderful shower's been cut short. So sorry." Drew's eyes popped open, and he looked around in confusion, wondering where his warm spray of water had gone. he began to touch himself, clearly irritated that the suds he believed covered his body were about to dry up and cling to him without being rinsed away. The ladies in the audience moaned in disappointment. There were even a few boos. Whalen didn't let it throw him. He was off and running and having far too much fun manipulating this beautiful famous boy.

"You're somewhere else now, Drew. You're in the seventh grade, Drew. You're standing in front of your English class. You have to give an oral book report. How old are you, Drew?"

"13", Drew answered in a small voice. He licked his lips, his eyes looking around uncertainly, on watch for either acceptance or condemnation. His stance was that of a nervous pre-teen.

"Is there anyone attractive in your class, Drew? Anyone you like?"

Drew grinned. "Oh, yeahhh."

Whalen came close to Drew. "You know what it's like to get all excited at 13, Drew, don't you?" Drew nodded rapidly, his mouth closed tight, his lips drawn in and held down with his teeth. Whalen smiled, leaned in close and whispered in Drew's ear for a few seconds. Then he took a couple steps back and announced, "From now on, every time you hear your name, you will get very excited as you did in the 7th grade. Do you understand, Drew?" He stressed the direct address of Drew's name.

Drew quivered slightly and looked down at his crotch. "Ulp!"

Whalen smiled and the audience began to laugh. "You do understand, don't you?"

Drew nodded his head vigorously. "Y-yes. I-I underst-stand--!" His pelvis shook slightly, and he shuffled his feet. More laughter from the audience.

"That's very good...DREW." Drew took in a sharp breath. "I hope you have your book report ready DREW." Drew gasped, mouth open wide. "Are you ready to present your report to the class, DREW?" Drew whimpered, crossing his legs tightly, one foot atop the other. He nodded. "Okay then, let's hear your report, DREW." Drew swayed backwards, shoving his hands in his pockets. Deep in his pockets. Then he just stood there, toes wiggling madly, shoulders hunched.

"Well?", Whalen said. "Go ahead, then."

Drew nodded again. "I--I, um--I read Jack London's "Call of the Wild". It's all about this sled dog named Buck, and all the people that own him and the adventures he has." Drew started to loosen up a bit, showing obvious relief that he had something to distract him that was in no way arousing. His shoulders relaxed and was breathing easier. And most likely growing soft. Of course Whalen would have none of that.

"What sort of adventures would that be, DREW?" Drew gave a quiet yelp, as if he'd bumped his shin. "Were they interesting, DREW? Didn't the story take place in Alaska, DREW? Do you have any information about the writer Mr. London and his travels, DREW? Because, DREW, I think that's really important back story we should know, DREW. Don't you think that's important, DREW? I think you should, DREW."

At this point, Drew couldn't think of anything. He had a raging, rock-solid prepubescent hard on that wasn't going down anytime soon. Drew was now gurgling slightly and his eyes were rolling back into his head. His jaw was slack and there may have even bit the tiniest bit of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. The audience was roaring. Involuntarily, Drew's hands darted downward and clutched at himself through his jeans. The 13-year-old in him had definitely gotten a hold of him in more ways than one.

"Freeze!", Whalen yelled, and Drew did indeed freeze in his tracks, as if stopped in time. Whalen spoke to the crowd. "A little more junior high kid there than I think I wanted", he joked. "Definitely more self control in the man than in the boy." He turned back to the frozen Drew, quickly and carefully peeling his white knuckle grip off his pants and dropping his hands to his sides.. "Tell you what, old buddy, we are going to step forward in time. You are now at the time just prior to when you began modeling--" He paused.

Whalen looked to the audience again. "I've got that right, don't I? He worked as model?" He got back a variety of positive responses from around the room. "How old was he then? What, 17, 18?" The shouts came back, all from the girls. Whalen picked out the correct age from the many gals shouting to be heard over one another. "Sixteen?? He was already modeling professionally at age 16? Geez, nice work if you can get it, I guess." More chortles and laughs. Whalen turned back to Drew.

"You're now 15 years old. Not quite a professional model yet. You're doing a young adult's stage production of Pinocchio. And because you're just so darn cute, they've cast you in the lead. Are you with me so far?"

Drew spoke thickly, like someone asleep. "Yesss."

"Dandy. Now, the great thing about this show is it's a magic stage show set in a magical theater. You've been given a costume that changes your body into Pinocchio's puppet body, even though it still looks just like you. You follow me?"

Again, Drew answered, "Yesss."

Whalen cast an aside to the audience. "Good, because I'm actually getting a little confused." And back to Drew, he continued, "Your puppet from has been saturated with the magic of the theater so that when your nose grows, your nose really CAN grow, just like in the storybooks! Okay?" Drew nodded slightly. Whalen took a step back away. "So now you're wide awake at 15, on the rehearsal stage of Pinocchio, where you are that selfsame puppet!" Whalen clapped his hands and Drew was unfrozen, moving about easily, swinging his arms and doing some light physical warm-ups.

Whalen hollered like a director. "Okay, we're going to do a run-through of this scene, people! Let's have some quiet! You ready to go up there, Pinocch?"

Drew gave a thumbs-up. "Ready!"

"Okay, good! Let's take it from Pinocchio's first lie. Pinocchio, you realize you've just lied and the growing is about to begin--uh-oh! Problem!"

Drew looked to Whalen, concerned. "What? What's wrong?"

Whalen hollered back, "There's been a mix-up in magical costumes! They sprinkled the growth potion on the wrong part of your wooden body! They didn't put it on your nose! They put liberal amounts of the magic potion on your peen, buddy!"

Drew looked confused. "Peen--?" Then his eyes brightened. "Aww, no way!"

"Sorry, man! Don't know how it could have happened--" then Whalen cupped his hand over his mouth and the microphone. In the voice of an offstage techie, he yelled, "Cue the growing magic!" Whalen looked back to Drew. "Oh, I'm so sorry! There's no stopping it now! There it goes!"

Drew looked down at the front of his jeans in horror. His legs went akimbo, his arms shot out at his sides. To Drew's eyes, his penis, now a shaft of enchanted wood, was growing like a redwood shot in time-lapse photography. He staggered back, eyes wide and weight shifting beyond his control. "Whoa! Turn it off! Make it stop!" The magical growing penis, invisible to the audience, was still provoking raucous laughter.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Pinocchio, but the growth can't be stopped until it reaches it's peak. Can you describe it for us, pal?"

"Describe it? It's right here! Can't you see it?!" Drew's arms pinwheeled and he started stumbling around the stage, believing himself to be led by the growing weight or his enormous elongating dick.

"It's for the guys in the booth. Just humor me."

Drew gasped as he tried to grab hold of the situation. "It's long--it's getting longer! Holy crap, it must be more than six feet--it's not stopping!" Drew stumbled forward, skidding on the stage and falling to his knees.

"Gives whole new meaning to the term 'woody', doesn't it?", Whalen quipped. "What's happening now?"

Drew looked frantic. "It's getting thicker! Ohh, man! It's gotta be like twelve or fifteen feet now! Oh, shit! It's sprouting little branches and everything! How long is this gonna go on??" Drew was now hunched forward, on his knees, looking for all the world as if he were slumped over atop an invisible drainage pipe.

"We may have to do what they did to help out the real Pinocchio when this happened to his nose, is all", Whalen offered.

Drew was reaching outward and grasping at nothing, his hands perfectly curving around his imagined tree trunk member in a way any mime would envy. "What did they do for him??", he gasped.

"Well, they just sawed it off, didn't they?"

"NO!!! Think of another way!!!" The audience laughed and applauded.

"You know, there is one thing I'm curious about", Whalen said.

Drew looked at him, clearly irritated. "What's that?"

"Remember what it was like in the 7th grade during your book report--DREW?"

Suddenly, Drew's gigantic Pinocchio penis instantly solidified like petrified wood into a Sequoian hard on that flew backwards and clopped Drew in the face. Even though it was all in Drew's mind, it actually knocked him off his feet, or knees in this case, landing him on his back. The crowd went wild, applauding and whistling.

Whalen moved quickly to Drew's side, to see if he was okay. There was little danger that the impact with the imagined tree trunk would have any lasting damage, but the very real response to it might. As it turned out, Drew was fine. Whalen helped him to his feet and brushed him off. He then turned him toward the audience and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's give it up for the one and only Drew Fuller!" The audience cheered wildly and after the noise died down, Whalen removed any suggestions from Drew of 13-year-old arousal responses or Pinocchio storybook magic. He then had Drew take a deep breath, close his eyes, and count backwards from 5. When he reached 1, he opened his eyes and looked at Whalen.

Drew blinked twice, then asked, "Okay, I'm ready whenever you are. Let's get to it." there was a ripple of laughs form the audience.

Whalen looked at Drew with mock incredulity. "Why Drew, don't you realize that you've been up on this stage for a while now, entertaining all these fine people?"

Drew made a face at him. "Yeah, right. No, seriously, you said you were going to hypnotize me, so let's get this show on the--hey, where's my shirt?" More laughter.

"There is one thing I'd like to ask you about, Drew, if that's okay with you."

Drew was only half listening to Whalen. "...yeah, whatever, if you want. But--where are my shoes??"

"Don't worry about your shoes or your shirt, Drew", Whalen said. Just like that, Drew no longer appeared the least bit concerned about his state of partial undress. He crossed his arms easily across his chest and stood relaxed.

"What did you want to know?" It was immediately obvious to everyone that Drew Fuller was still very much hypnotized.

"There was this story I read about a mishap on the set of your show Charmed. You'll remember it as I describe it to you." It wasn't phrased as a question. Drew would remember the incident, whether it happened or not.

Drew nodded. "Which story?"

"The way I heard it, one of the props used for the vanquishing potions the girls use actually had a powerful solvent in it. One that could just dissolve the bonds that held anything together. I mean, anything. You remember that, don't you?"

Drew nodded more vigorously. "Oh, yeah. Sure I rememb--"

Whalen cut him off. "You got some of it on you, didn't you? In fact, you did. Some got spilled right on the front of your pants. You have to remember that."

Drew looked very uncomfortable. "Well, yes, I, um..."

"Freeze, Drew." Drew froze in place, as if one of the witches from his program had stopped time around him. Whalen said nothing, but held up a small wooden cylinder for the audience to see. It was perhaps six inches in length, maybe seven. Three inches around. Whalen strolled over to Drew and tucked the wooden tube into the front of his pants. He then returned to his original place and said, "Unfreeze, Drew."

Drew began moving again as if nothing had happened. "Y'know, it's not something I like to talk about--"

"But to have that powerful solvent spilled all over your pants, it must have loosened--" As Whalen spoke, Drew shifted his stance and the wooden cylinder slipped down the front of his pants into his inseam. Drew looked horrified. "Why, whatever's the matter, Drew? You okay?" Drew tried to act nonchalant, but fumbled with the front of his pants, grabbing himself and clutching with both hands to keep everything in place. It was ineffective, however, and the cylinder slid down his pant leg and tumbled onto the stage.

"Oh my gosh!", Whalen cried, racing to Drew's side. "That solvent broke the bond that held your penis to your body! It's fallen off! Quick, get it!" Whalen made a move as if to shove Drew by the shoulder to urge him on, but in fact gave the wooden cylinder a light kick. It was sent rolling across the stage, with a frantic Drew racing behind it.

"Hurry, Drew! You can't afford to lose that thing! Not if you wanna have kids someday!" Everyone howled with laughter as Drew ran barefoot across the stage boards trying to retrieve what he was certain was his dislodged member.

Whalen then dropped two wooden spheres, about the size of ping pong balls, and sent them spinning toward Drew with a flick of his foot. "Holy shit, Drew! There go your balls! Now you're really in trouble!" Drew scrambled like an epileptic chicken trying to reclaim his family jewels, finally skidding across the stage to snag the last stray wooden testicle just before it could catapult off the edge and into someone's drink. Everyone applauded him for his quick save.

Whalen applauded as well and came to Drew's side, complimenting him on a fine job. "Well done, Drew! You didn't lose those elusive little guys get too far, now did you?"

Drew clutched the faux genitals to his crotch, desperate to get them back in place. Then he looked down at the twin wooden knickknack spheres in bewilderment. "Oh, man--how do I tell which one's the right and which one's the left??" The audience roared, clapping and whistling.

Whalen waved a hand before Drew's eyes. "Freeze, Drew." Drew did as bidden, and Whalen retrieved his props. He then undid some of the damage to young Drew. "Your memory is restored, you recall the entire show and all that you experienced, all the great fun that you had." Whalen always added that last part so that even the most short-tempered star would believe he had great fun. "Your body is back to normal, and everything is where it should be. Come on back to us, Drew."

Whalen clapped his hands and Drew snapped out of it, or at least appeared to. First thing he did was feel down below to verify that all was back in place, and was relieved to find it was. Then a look of embarrassment came over his face as the memory of all he had just done came back to him. He actually blushed.

Whalen said, "Once again, folks, let's give it up for the talented Mr. Drew Fuller!" The audience actually rose to its feet and applauded. Drew gave Whalen a quick guy hug and Whalen tossed him his shirt and shoes, which Drew was quick to get back into.

Whalen shook Drew's hand again once the young star had gotten dressed. Drew muttered to Whalen, "I should've just let you make me bark like a dog."

Whalen whispered back, "Just hang on a sec, the fun's not quite over yet." Before Drew could ask what that remark meant, Whalen was addressing the crowd. "Ordinarily, this would be a fine place to our show, but as it happens, Drew Fuller is not the only handsome celebrity in the audience this evening! You never know who you may run into here in the glittering land of Las Vegas, much less one whose name is becoming associated with our lavish city." Whalen signalled the light booth and raised his voice like an old-time ringmaster. "Ladieeeees and GENtlemen! May I present...Josh Duhamel!"

A spotlight stabbed down on a table at the back of the room, illuminating a startled Josh Duhamel, star of big and little screen. There was a second of silence as all heads turned to see where the spotlight had gone, to see if what Whalen said was true. Several young ladies gasped when they saw that it was. When onlookers recognized Josh, the applause was deafening. Josh smiled, looking more like a grimace, and gave an uneasy wave. It was apparent he had not come to this evening's performance with the intention of drawing attention to himself. Too late now.

Josh half-rose in his seat so all could see him, offering a meager grin and another friendly wave to the audience. Whalen saw the exasperated look on his face and said quickly to the crowd, "It appears we've gone and interrupted a private evening out for Josh Duhamel." Josh gave him a look that said Whalen had hit the nail on the head. Whalen went on, "I guess it would be inconsiderate of us to expect him to abandon his evening out to join us on the stage to participate in some small bit of fun with our guest Drew." Groans and "aww"s ran through the house. Whalen got a wicked glint in his eye. "Unless of course...he could be persuaded."

Most of the house--and all of the girls--stood up, applauding and cheering for Josh. Josh was taken aback by the sudden surge of warmth from the crowd, and smiled sincerely, although his eyes sent Whalen a recriminating look. Josh got up from his table and made his way toward the stage.

Feigning delighted surprise, Whalen cried out, "Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, he IS going to join us! How about that??" The excited cheers were deafening.

Josh and Whalen exchanged handshakes, and then Josh turned to acknowledge Drew. As they shook hands, Josh said out of the corner of his mouth to Whalen, "How the hell did you know I was even here?"

Whalen grinned. "Just more of that Vegas magic." Then, confidentially, "You were spotted on your way in. Got pressured to take advantage of it. Really appreciate you being a sport." Josh gave Whalen a look that said he understood pushy stage managers, and a bit of his tension eased.

"So, Josh", Whalen said loud enough for all to hear, "now that you're a noted celebrity, I guess it's hard not get noticed when you go out. Did you anticipate that when you wanted to be a movie and TV star as a kid?"

"Uh, actually", Josh said, "I wanted to be a dentist when I was a kid."

"No kidding!", Whalen looked utterly surprised, yet there was a gleam in his eye that let on that he knew all this already. "That gives me an idea!" Whalen snapped his fingers, bringing out the two showgirls, who rolled out a plush barcalounger for Josh. They extended the foot rest, reclined the chair back, did a curtsey and then skipped back offstage.

"If you could take a seat in the lounger and get comfortable, Josh, we can get started."

Josh sat down with some trepidation, and Drew leaned over to him and commented, "It feel great, man. Really."

Josh offered him a weak nod of acknowledgment to Drew then said to Whalen, "You're not gonna make me lose my dick, are you?"

The audience laughed and Whalen looked at Josh seriously and asked, "Would you like to?" That got an even bigger laugh, With a softer tone of voice, Whalen said to Josh, "Just relax now, Josh, and let me take care of you."

Josh looked a little confused. "Don't I need to be looking at something? To focus on?"

"Not at all. There are no swinging pocket watches, no crystal pendants. Just listen to my voice." And Josh did.

When Josh Duhamel next opened his eyes, he was standing up. He stood beside Drew Fuller, who had taken Josh's place in the recliner. He sat back with a large dinner napkin tucked into his shirt, under his chin. Josh heard Whalen's voice as if it were some cosmic source narrating his life.

"You're Dr. Duhamel, Josh. You're a dentist. Drew here is your patient and it's time for you to put him under so that you can begin to drill. The canister of Nitrous Oxide is to your right. Begin when you're ready, Doctor." Immediately, Josh's posture straightened and he took on the air of a stoic medical man.

There were snickers from the audience as Josh reached over and picked up a large styrofoam coffee cup from a cart Whalen had brought out for him. He placed the cup over Drew's nose and mouth, which more people found to be terribly funny.

"Turn on the gas, now, Doctor", Whalen prompted. Josh twisted an invisible knob and Whalen made a hissing sound into his microphone to mimic the release of the laughing gas. Josh nodded approvingly as Drew's head began to loll slightly, his eyes looking glazed and unfocused.

Josh turned to busy himself with the instruments he imagined to be on the push cart in front of him, when Whalen made a change in sound effects. Whalen put his mouth right up to the mike. "CRACK! Pssssssssssttthhhhhhpppp!!" Josh turned around, looking alarmed. "Oh, no!", Whalen cried. "The gauge on the laughing gas broke off! Your tiny, enclosed surgery room is being filled with the contents of that gas canister! DO something!"

Josh fumbled like crazy to cap the imaginary gas canister as Whalen went to town making hissing noises of increasing volume. "Uh-oh", Whalen added, "the whole room's getting filled with that stuff! You can't stop it!"

Josh snorted. He tried to compose himself, but then let out a loud guffaw. "Looks like you're being affected by the gas. Better think fast and plug it, Dr. Duhamel!"

Josh began to laugh, and laugh hard. He brought the audience along with him. Josh tried desperately to stop the flow of gas he believed was filling the room. He grasped at the top of the imaginary canister, trying to stem the flow with his hands. Josh's growing laughter made any attempts to hang onto the broken valve steadily effectively useless. He yanked the bib from under Drew's chin and tried to wrap it around the make-believe valve, but of course as soon as Josh let go of it, it fell to the ground with nothing real to support it. Laughter rang throughout the auditorium.

"You probably need something bigger than just that dental bib to clog it, Doctor!", Whalen prompted. "Find something bigger than that, hurry!"

Josh immediately started to tear off his shirt, causing the girls in the audience to shriek and howl. He stopped, as if dimly aware that there was a chorus of catcalls spilling into his surgery room. Leaving his shirt ripped open, Josh switched tactics and pulled off Drew's shirt instead. His attempt to wrap it around the nonexistent valve was no more effective than his attempt with the napkin bib.

As Josh's laughter made his every movement increasingly difficult, the coffee cup fell off of Drew's face and into his lap. Drew let out a hyena like laugh, which only made Josh's jocular convulsions worse.

In no time, Josh was down on his knees, doing his best to support himself on the arm of the recliner. Drew was now doubled over, laughing hysterically, and clutching Josh's arm. Josh fell onto his back, gripping his sides with laughter. Drew tried to get up out of the chair and instead fell backwards unceremoniously, and tumbled the length of the recliner to spill in a heap on the floor behind it. Applause and cheers filled the hall.

Whalen turned to the audience and said dryly, "And to think I always thought only Tim Conway and Harvey Corman could do this skit right."

Whalen knew it was time for a big finish, so he left it to Josh Duhamel's imagination. "Doctor! You have to do something now! Block that leaking gas valve! Can you grab it?? Where is it??"

Josh snatched up the fallen coffee cup and, holding it upside-down, showed it to Whalen. Whalen raised an eyebrow. "Is that it? That's the broken valve?" The giggling Josh nodded like a toy drinking bird. "So, block it with something already!"

Quickly, Josh raced over to Drew and hoisted him up off the floor. Josh grabbed Drew's face and squeezed his cheek, forcing his mouth open wide. Josh then shoved the upturned cup into Drew's mouth, much to the delight of the audience. The gagged Drew's eyes bulged, then he inhaled with an exasperated gasp--presumably he thought he was getting an entire canister full of gas--and his eyes rolled around in his head. Josh, still laughing, though a bit more reservedly, dropped the sedated Drew forward to land face-first into the seat of the recliner.

Josh took his place sitting on the arm of the chair, collecting himself and trying to fight off the effects of the imagined Nitrous Oxide, though not to great effect.

Whalen turned again to the audience and said flatly, "I think I speak for everyone here when I say it's a very good thing that Mr. Duhamel here never became a dentist." The house rose to its feet in a grand and boisterous ovation. Whalen took a bow. Josh, still in the grips of a giggle-fit, fell off the arm of the chair.


After a quick farewell to the crowd, Whalen had the showgirls guide the revived Josh and Drew off to the wings so he could remove their hypnotic suggestions and bring them back to reality. At least that was that story.

It was well after final curtain of the show. In fact, most of the shows on the strip had closed for the night. That was fine with Whalen, as he preferred to have quiet for what he needed to do next.

Whalen returned to the stage as he always did to set things up for the next day's performance. He usually did this during the afternoon, but this time he did so immediately after everyone had left. He made his way into the wings, pushing aside the various curtains. Behind one of the wing curtains stood Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel, tall and stiff, hands at their sides, eyes wide open, still deep in a hypnotic trance.

Whalen spoke to the male stars. "Can you hear me, gentlemen? You are able to answer me."



"Good. You both had a wonderful, wonderful time here tonight. You had so much fun, in fact, that you are very eager to do it all again. You want to appear in my show every night for the following week. You will ask me to be my celebrity guests for the coming week, as you want this very much. You love being hypnotized and it felt better than almost anything you have ever experienced before."

Whalen reached out and touched each of the men on the shoulder. "Turn and face each other." They did, expressions still blank. Whalen gave them a single word command. "Kiss."

The two handsome men hesitated. There was suddenly tension between them, and the air of sedate relaxation about them before was evaporating quickly. "Freeze." Whalen stopped the two of them before things could deteriorate further. Whalen scratched his head, muttering, "Okay, we take things a little slower, then."

"Close your eyes", he told the actors, and Josh and Drew did so. "When you open your eyes, you will see before you the single most beautiful and attractive person you have ever seen in your life. You feel such arousal just looking at them. If you move forward to kiss them, they will do the same for you. The kiss itself will be an almost spiritual for you. Go ahead. Open your eyes."

Drew and Josh did. They blinked at first, as if not sure they were registering what they were seeing correctly, then Josh smiled and said to Drew, "Hi."

Drew, suddenly bashful, said back, "Hi."

Slowly, tentatively, the two men leaned forward, each halting a bit to ascertain that the other was responding in kind. Gently, tenderly, they shared their first kiss. It was soft, loving, sweet. As they pulled away, Josh looked a little flushed.

Drew lightly touched his lips. "Wow."

Whalen shrugged. "Not bad. It's gonna take some work to make you respond more readily than that. But in the meantime..." Whalen snapped his fingers and the two men blinked rapidly. Drew and Josh looked very much awake. Not giving them a moment to orient themselves, Whalen reached out and began vigorously shaking their hands.

"Just a marvelous job, both of you! I can't ell you what a joy it was to have you onstage! You added SO much to my little hypnosis act! Well done!"

The duo thanked Whalen for his compliments. "Hey, it was my pleasure", Drew said.

"Yeah, I have to admit", said Josh, "even being a bit ambushed like that, I had a lot of fun. I really did."

"That's wonderful!", Whalen said. Then leading them both out of the wings and back toward the body of the theater, he went on, "The house is cleared out now. I figured if you waited back a while it would save you getting mobbed after the show." The two men nodded their gratitude. Whalen saw them off at the main lobby doors. "Thanks again, gentlemen, and I hope to see you again very soon!"

"Uh, yeah, about that...", Drew started, stopping Whalen from leaving. The hypnotist turned back toward them, inclining his head in curiosity. Drew continued, "I really did have a wonderful time here. So much so, is there any chance you could use me in any more of your shows this week? You are here all week, aren't you? I mean, in this theater, with this show?"

Josh looked flabbergasted. "I was just going to ask the same thing!"

Whalen smiled wickedly. "Well, I must say, this comes as a complete, if wonderful surprise. I'm quite flattered."

"So can you use us?", Drew asked.

"I'll certainly see what I can do."

The posters were up and ads were running within 24 hours. In a special limited engagement, male movie and TV stars Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel would be joining forces with Whalen Glessano for a week of hypnotic fun in Vegas.

The theater owners had no complaints as the star power attracted a packed house every night. Each night, Drew and Josh were put under, each time enjoying it a little bit more. Whalen expanded his repertoire of manipulative tricks with them. He liked to play off of their television roles. Once he had Drew believe he was becoming encased by a glowing green slime demon right off of his series Charmed. He was walking across the stage and stepped in it, and it began to crawl up his legs and then encase his whole body.

But unlike the filming of his show, Drew had no need to imagine the effect that would be added via computer in later editing. This time he was quite certain he saw the oozing green creature and felt it clinging to him like airplane glue. Josh was called in to assist him only to find that he got as stuck as Drew was. In short order, the two handsome men were glued together, tugging and pulling only to snap back together as it bound with elastic. The audience laughed and Whalen loved it on a very different level.

Another night, Whalen played up Josh's role as the security man in his series Las Vegas. He had Josh catch Drew cheating at cards and bind his hands with imaginary handcuffs and cart him off to the hoosegow, slung over one shoulder. Again, the crowd laughed and Whalen had to surreptitiously adjust his pants.

And of course, the dentist routine was a constant favorite which was relived every night.

The week went all too fast. Whalen knew as much as he'd love to, he could never keep such prominent stars under his thumb indefinitely. He would love nothing more than to take them on tour, playing with them for all to see under the lights of the stage, programming them to play with each other in the privacy of the dressing room or trailer. His very own magical white lighter and rent-a-cop hypnotized slaveboys.

"What I really need", Whalen thought to himself, "is a command performance just for me." He stopped. He looked at Drew and Josh, chatting amiably in the wings after their last show. He imagined them in an entirely different light. Then he said to himself, "Why not?"

It came as something of a surprise to the talent agents, fellow cast members and friends, when Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel announced they'd be taking some time off from their rigorous rehearsal and production schedules. The timing could not have been better, actually, as there was a break in shooting both their series and movies which involved either men were either already showing, in post-production, or a few months away from filming.

What Josh and Drew kept a secret for the moment was what they planned to do during that time off. They both agreed that it would sound a bit odd to simply announce casually that two well-known actors intended to go on tour with a Vegas hypnotist.


Busby (yes, named for the famous choreographer) handed Whalen the keys. "You're all set, my friend. This makes us even, right?"

"I should think so", Whalen smiled. "How are things with you and, it was Stan, wasn't it?"

"Stu. And they couldn't be better. Still thinks I'm the love of his life, which of course I am." Busby laughed.

"No problems with memories of his dumped fiancée resurfacing?"

"Not so far. Knock wood." Busby turned to leave and said, "I gotta tell you, Whalen, I have never had two more attentive performers who picked up everything so quickly. They really were a joy to work with. Followed every direction flawlessly and without any fuss."

"Imagine that."

"You sure you won't reconsider taking this act on the road? It's a winner, especially considering the star power you've got involved."

Whalen smiled, but shook his head. "Not this time, Bus. This one is strictly for me."

"If you say so, it's your call. But I still think you're making a big mistake." Busby departed, saying, "Lock up when you leave. You've got the stage for as long as you need it."

Whalen sat in the small auditorium owned by Busby and felt his skin tingle. He had dreamed of this little private performance ever since he first had his eye on Drew and Josh. Never in his wildest dreams--and let's face it, they could be pretty wild--did he imagine it would actually happen. But it was. A young voice from the lighting booth called down, "Ready whenever you are, sir!" The intern had run lights and sound for countless touring show rehearsals, so it was simple to tell him that's exactly what he was doing now and have him accept it without question. Whalen gave the kid the thumbs-up, and the house lights dimmed. All Whalen needed now was a bucket of popcorn.

The lights on the stage came up, and on either side of the curtains, red and blue lights flashed like the warning light of a police cruiser. A trap door in the stage opened and a muscular figure rose slowly up from below. Steam poured from all around him, as if from a sewer grate on a city street. His stance was strong, his muscles taut and stiff.

Music pumped in from the overhead speakers. The beat was loud and penetrating. A rock and roll beat with an almost militaristic feel. In another moment, it was apparent why.

Slowly, the platform on which the figure stood began to rotate. As he turned toward the audience, it was revealed that the figure was dressed as a cop. A motorcycle cop, all in crisp tan khakis. His short-sleeved shirt fit his beautifully-muscled figure well. A silver star adorned his left breast, a patch bearing the insignia of the Las Vegas Highway Patrol was stitched onto his left shoulder. Tight tan pants with a blue and white stripe ran down his legs into tall black motorcycle boots. A large black gun belt hung low on his hips, massive sidearm strapped into the right holster.

Even with the large-lensed, mirrored sunglasses, it was obvious who the traffic cop was. It was Josh Duhamel. Josh pulled a long black night stick from a side holster on his left hip. Slowly, seductively, he pulled the stick along his legs, lingering over his crotch. He slid the baton between his legs and worked it back and forth, back and forth, on an easy arc.

Then Josh pulled the night stick up and out of his crotch, keeping it close to his body. He traced the front of his abs, his chest, his neck with the stick. Then his brought the night stick lightly to his lips, running it along the edge of his mouth. Josh opened his mouth wide, and very deliberately slipped the night stick in. His tongue played at and around the tip of the stick, moistening it's 6" diameter. Whalen swallowed hard as Josh began to suck on the night stick, drawing deep on it as if it were the straw of a milkshake--or something equally thick and creamy.

Josh pulled on the stick as he sucked and slurped, his free hand reaching down to grasp at his crotch. Whalen wondered if perhaps he had the heat up too high, as it was getting difficult to breathe. As he continued to suck on the phallic police baton, Josh unbuttoned his shirt. Starting at the bottom, he undid the uniform shirtfront with one hand, revealing his strong chest. After his shirt hung loosely about his torso, Josh slowly withdrew the stick from his mouth. Steadily to begin, then with quick jerks in and out, Josh's lips relinquished the stick and tossed it aside.

With both hands, Josh reached down and grabbed the waistband of his snug trousers and yanked them away. They tore free easily, like workout pants, and he tossed them aside with a flick of his wrist. With his shirt nearly off, Josh the traffic cop stood there, his hips swaying in time to the music, clad solely in his tall boots, his low hanging gun belt, and a small white jock strap. The beat of the music took on a stronger baseline, and a more rapid rhythm.

Josh reached down and began to stroke himself through the jock. His expression remained resolute, serious, his mouth a flat line. he glanced downward and his hands were reflected in the lenses of his glasses. He let his head tip back as he groped himself with increasing attentiveness, and his glasses flashed as they caught the stage lights.

Then Josh's hand slipped down, beneath the jock. He was reaching to get a grip on himself. Whalen's eyes widened in surprise. He was certain that was not part of the choreography he had requested.

Whalen had no time to ponder it, for at that moment, the music changed. The militaristic bump-and-grind took on the light, airy feel of a classic orchestration. Harps and wind instruments piped in from the overhead, and a blue spotlight focused on the catwalk above the stage. Josh spun around with a look of shock and amazement, the dirty cop taken by surprise by some celestial intervention.

Glitter of silver and powder blue showered down from above, and a handful of electric blue lasers stabbed down at the stage's floorboards. Amidst the glow and sparkle of the special effects, Drew lowered down on a flying harness.

Josh stood wide-eyed with his jaw gaping. He was not alone. Even having designed the costume Drew wore, Whalen was astonished to see it brought to life on the beautiful boy's body. And beautiful it was, his defined musculature bared to the brilliant stage lights and speckled with gleaming bits of glitter. Stretching outward from Drew's firm shoulders were the wings of an angel, full, feathered, and brilliantly white. Thin puppeteer's lines, connected to his flying rig, made the costume wings seem to be part of him as they flapped majestically, appearing to be the only thing slowing his descent.

Drew was naked, or virtually so, save for a broad white strap that ran across his body from left shoulder to right hip. Dangling from the shoulder belt was a white scabbard with the hilt of elaborate prop sword protruding from it. A white thong with golden snaps at the hips was all that covered Drew's manhood. On his feet were calf-high lace-up sandals of gold. Drew the white lighter, the angel, alighted gracefully upon the stage. His massive wings flapped once, then twice more before folding neatly against his back. The puppeteer's lines and the flying harness detached, deftly released by Drew, and he stood before the half-undressed officer Josh.

Josh fell to his knees before the angelic figure of Drew. His head lowered to the floor, Josh breathed in anxious gasps before the beautiful young man. Then, gingerly, Josh reached up and with unsteady hands began to slowly caress the legs of the young angel. Softly, gently, lovingly, Josh's fingertips ran up and down Drew's legs, carefully gliding back behind to rub his calves and thighs, to knead his ass.

Drawing his angel to him, Josh rubbed his head against Drew's crotch, taking in the scent of his loins, his nose sliding gently along the white thong, thick with the young man's aroma. Josh kissed Drew Angel's belly, his thumbs affectionately massaging his sides, fingers arcing behind the boy's back to meet at his spine. There Officer Josh's dexterous fingers played skillfully, massaging the angel's smooth skin, drawing lazy circles along his back.

Drew's own hands played atop Josh's head. His slender fingers ran gently through Josh's short hair, allowing each follicle to slip lightly through his fingers. As Drew's left hand remained resting upon Josh's skull, playfully attending to his hair, his right hand slipped down to cradle Josh's face. Drew's soft palm held the mock lawman's cheek, his fingertips caressing his temple, lightly tracing the edge of his ear.

Whalen gripped the arms of his seat. This scenario had been so long in planning, and had been ages waiting for the moment when two celebrities worthy of his attention would be together in his auditorium at the same time. It was at this moment, shifting in his seat to make room for his growing erection, that Whalen decided the wait was well worth it.

Gently, Drew laid his fingertips upon the sides of Josh's face and guided him up to his feet. Josh looked down at his angel from his full height, his eyes still filled with wonder at the heavenly boy despite being taller than him. Drew let his fingers slip from Josh's face and ran them softly down Josh's neck to rest upon his shoulders. Slowly, Drew brought Josh forward and down, drawing their lips together. There was a split second of hesitation, as Josh stared in wonder, but Drew smiled a reassuring, angelic smile, and their two lips met. The kiss was long and passionate. Drew's arms draped around Josh's back, holding him tight. Josh stroked Drew's sides, his hands eventually lingering upon his behind.

As their kiss continued, and their passions rose, Drew's wings unfolded and began to flap again. Slowly, majestically. Almost unnoticed, the harness wires descended from above the stage, to dangle near Drew. Without breaking their embrace. Josh reached behind his young angel and reattached the lift wires to Drew's harness, pulling an additional support line around himself as well.

Drew seemed lost in their kisses, his arms moving as if of their own accord as he tore Josh's shirt from him. Josh produced his night stick and rubbed it vigorously against Drew's crotch. Drew unsheathed his sword and rubbed the flat of his gleaming prop blade against Josh's package. Simultaneously, Josh thrust his night stick behind Drew's head just as Drew caught the back of Josh's head with the sword. The two pulled each other forward again, their kiss growing in intensity.

With great flair, the two tossed their weapons to the side. Josh grabbed up Drew in his arms. Drew wrapped one arm around Josh, and thrust the other skyward like a superhero. His wings flapped again, sweeping even greater than before, and the duo rose together into the air.

The lights flashed, the blue lasers stabbed upwards, and at the height of their ascent, Drew wrapped his other arm around Josh. They kissed again, and slowly, they started to spin. Music poured in from the speakers, building to a tremendous crescendo as the two probed one another's mouths. The lights, strobes, and music all climaxed at once, and the lights went dark.

Whalen rose to his feet in ovation, cheering wildly. The lights came up again to show Drew and Josh, side by side, arm in arm, still suspended high above the stage. They each thrust one arm outward dramatically to signify the end of their extraordinary performance. Whalen continued to cheer, and then the music began again.

It was an entirely different tune, this time slow and pulsating, with heavy bass and romantic overtones. The two descended to the stage, now lit with bright spots of yellow and orange. The mood had gone from majestic to lurid. The two landed together on their feet, but as soon as their soles touched the floor boards, the two turned to face each other and Drew went down on one knee. It looked like the reverse of any number of Biblical paintings. Instead of a sinner falling to one knee before an angel, the opposite was true here. The music built in intensity of rhythm, but remained low in volume. Josh rested one hand atop Drew's head and began stroking his hair. Drew rested his head against Josh's abs and breathed heavily. Lightly, Drew kissed Josh's abs and his fingers began to pull at Josh's jock strap.

Whalen sat on the edge of his seat, almost panting himself.

Drew's fingers played at the strings of the jock, grasping hold as if to pull it down, then let go. His hands lingered there, wavering, then resting against Josh's muscular thighs. Drew's eyes flickered with uncertainty. Josh's hand had stopped playing with Drew's hair and he too looked a bit lost. Whalen was growing impatient. "What the hell are you waiting for? You know what comes next!"

Drew looked around the stage and at the empty auditorium, as if he were trying to place where he was, what show he was doing. Josh took half a step back from him, began to rub his eyes as if coming out of a dream.

Whalen stiffened. "Uh-oh..."

Drew's hands fell away from Josh's legs. He looked up at his costar. "Josh? What the hell are we doing??"

Whalen was on his feet in an instant. "Drew! Josh! FREEZE!"

There was a moment when time stood still. Whalen stood there, only a few feet from the stage, hand outstretched toward his two subjects from when he shouted his command. He held his breath. He looked at Drew, then at Josh. The two men were statues. They had frozen in place, deep in a trance, as bidden. Whalen let out a deep breath. "Wheww! Holy shit, that was close."

Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel sat side by side in chairs Whalen had brought to the stage. Their eyes were closed, they slept deeply. They were still in costume; Drew a near-naked angel, Josh a half-dressed cop. Whalen had wasted no time in getting the two male stars back into relaxed poses and back under deep hypnosis. The last fifteen minutes had been spent reinforcing their obedience, their submissiveness to him. They had been responding very well.

But something wasn't right.

Whalen had talked them through any number of deepening exercises. The stiffened arm, the descending elevator, so on and so forth. Everything went like clockwork, their responses textbook. Until he got to the commands. Whalen knelt before Drew. "Drew, you have feelings for Josh. You feel a powerful attraction to him. To his body, to the way he moves, to his whole persona. You are falling in love with Josh Duhamel. Do you understand."

Drew simply shook his head slightly as he slept in his trance. He moaned softly as one would when having a bad dream that was not yet sufficiently troubling to jar the sleeper awake. "Drew? You are in love with Josh. Say this, please."

Drew shuddered a bit more. " love, not..." His eyelids fluttered and he inhaled sharply. If Whalen kept this up, Drew would pull himself out of his trance state.

Whalen lay a hand upon Drew's head. "Sleep and be at peace, Drew. Sleep deeply, calm and comforted." Drew's body relaxed instantly, his head lolled to one side. Whalen moved to Josh.

"Josh, you have very strong feeling for Drew. You look at him and all you can feel is an overpowering desire for him. You want him, you need to have him." Josh's reaction was even more pronounced than Drew's. He jerked suddenly in his chair, causing Whalen to jump back. Whalen watched Josh intently, seeing his shoulders spasm, his fingers twitch. Josh inhaled three times very quickly through his nose. He acted like a biological computer that was unable to process new data. For all intents and purposes, that was true.

Not to be discouraged, Whalen moved in close to Josh once more and whispered to him. "Josh, listen to me and hear me. You like Drew Fuller. You really, really like him. A lot. He is so cute, so adorable. His eyes, his face, his loose-cut hair. You feel an irresistible love for him growing inside you--"

Josh jerked again. His head shook like a pendulum, side to side. He groaned from behind closed lips and he muttered something inaudible. He too looked as if he were in the throes of a nightmare. Whalen moved in again and heard Josh's mutterings to be, " girlfriend...she's a'"

Whalen placed his hand atop Josh's head and sent him more deeply under as well. "Sleep, Joshua. Sleep deep." Josh's body relaxed and his head slumped forward.

Whalen began to pace back and forth in front of the snoozing men. This was becoming far more difficult than he'd expected. All he wanted was to hypnotize two gloriously handsome famous straight boys, make them perform for him, and turn them into homosexual lovers for his twisted personal satisfaction. Now was that so much to ask?? But rewriting their entire psychological makeup was either going to take forever, or would not even be an option. Simply telling the men that they were acting out a role would not be sufficient. That was all they'd been told they were doing as the Angel & the Cop, and the finale of that performance very nearly snapped them out of it.

Whalen spoke to the sleeping stars. "You will remain deeply asleep, but you will hear my every word and respond as ordered. Do you understand?"

Thickly, sluggishly, the two responded. "...Yessth...", "...yeaahh..."

"As I place my hand upon you, tell me who you are. All pertinent information until I tell you to stop." Walking behind the chairs, he placed his hand upon Drew's shoulder.

Drew took in a deep breath, and with eyes still closed, began to introduce himself as if he were attending a casting call. "Hi, my name's Drew Fuller...'m 23...born in L.A....been in a few movies, was on Black Sash on play Chris on Charmed...started working at 12 when talent agent saw me on UCLA magazine cover...became model at 16..."

"That's enough, Drew." Drew's head slumped back down and he let out a contented sigh, as if happy to be allowed to go back to sleep. "Are you gay, Drew?", Whalen asked.

"Nope", came the immediate reply from the snoozing boy.

"What if I told you that you were gay, Drew?"

" 'm not."

"Drew, you are actually a young gay man of twenty-three. That is the truth. Say it, Drew." Drew moaned quietly under his breath. Whalen raised his voice slightly. "Drew, say it. That's an order."

"...mmm...'m actually a young gay man of twenty-three. That's th'truth..." Whalen breathed a sigh of relief. But then Drew added, "Except for the gay part..."

Whalen cursed. "Fuck!"

Like a mynah bird, the sleeping Drew repeated, "...Fuck!..." Whalen dropped his hand upon Drew's head again and told him to go back to sleep. He then went over to Josh. He paused a moment, chewing on his tongue, then haphazardly placed his hand on Josh's shoulder. Josh's head popped up, and with eyes still closed, he replied as if he were wide awake.

"I'm Josh Duhamel...was born November 14, 1972...I'm from in Minot, North Dakota...most folks know me as Leo Du Pres from All My appearing in series Las Vegas on..."

Whalen interrupted. "So are you gay, Josh?"

"No. Not gay."

"I think you are, Josh."

"No, I'm not."

"What if I were to tell you that you actually are gay, Josh? That you have been all these years and you only just now are realizing it? You are becoming aware of feelings you had buried for so long you didn't even know they were there. Feelings from your formative teen years. Feelings that tell you, beyond any doubt, that you--are--gay."

The sleeping Josh wrinkled his nose slightly, as if thinking it over. Then he said quite reasonably, "Don't think so."

Whalen scratched his nose, eyeing the ceiling. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty sure."

Whalen gave the back of Josh's head an slight nudge. "Sleep." Josh did.

Whalen went back to pacing. This was unanticipated, which just made Whalen more pissed off, because with all his experience in hypnosis, he should have anticipated it. He had just been too caught up in the idea of Drew and Josh getting it on. But they were both just too sure of who they were, of their place in the world that each had made for himself. Good luck, fortunate discoveries, hard work, and dedication got them to where they were now. Whalen couldn't just undo that with one suggestion, or even several. Intensive brainwashing would most likely prove effective, but not without seriously damaging their personalities. Whalen didn't simply want mindless drones going at it. If he was willing to settle for that, he would've just hired look-alikes, and done so long ago.

"You were easier to handle when you were an uncertain dental student candidate", Whalen grumbled at the sleeping Josh. Then he stopped pacing. "When he was an uncertain young student...", Whalen repeated. He looked over at Drew. "And when you, young man, were still in the seventh grade getting boners during your book report." Whalen felt a smile grow across his face. If they were easier to control when they were younger...why not simply make them younger?

Whalen almost slid across the floorboards as he hurried to kneel beside Drew. Softly, seductively, he whispered into the young man's ear. " feel so wonderful, at peace and relaxed, don't you?"

Drew nodded almost imperceptibly. "...uh-huh..."

Whalen licked his lips in anticipation. "You are in your deep, entranced state, Drew. You are in that dark and comfy world where anything is possible. And right now you're going backward in time, Drew. You're heading back slowly at first. One day at a time. A day, then two. The more you slip back, the easier, the smoother your journey. Do you feel yourself slipping backwards in time, Drew?" Drew gave the tiniest of nods. "Drew, what day is it right now?"

"...'s the 14th."

Whalen gave a quick glance at his watch's calendar. It was the 17th. So far, so good. "Keep going back, Drew. The more you go, the better it feels. Days, weeks, months of the life you've lived are returning to you, and with it your vitality, your energy, your stamina. The more you travel back, the faster you go, the more time you cover. How do you feel, Drew?"

"...good...really good..."

"that's excellent, Drew. As you tumble backwards through time, you leave behind you all the memories and experiences of the present, the experiences you've yet to have. But for the wonderful way you fell, that is a small price to pay. As each memory slips away, you don't miss it, you can't regret it, for you don't know it exists. Only this invigorating pleasure, this exhilarating backwards've gone back a year, Drew, and it feels so, sooo very increase speed...another whole year has slipped travel back, back, back..."

Drew twitched slightly, but this time as one in the throes of a remarkable high. His eyelids fluttered, his head lolled back. Drew gasped softly, his mouth hanging open limply. His shoulders rolled, and Whalen noticed that Drew was getting an erection. Drew wasn't alone, there. Whalen adjusted his own trousers and continued.

"Back you go, Drew Fuller. Another year...then're getting younger, trading in experience and memory for youth and vitality, eagerness and a willingness to learn." Drew was nearly panting, his mouth curled into a lazy smile, his head bobbing up and down slightly. "Another year again, then another...annnd one more." Drew's face was lit up, his smile broad and getting broader.

Whalen pulled himself close to Drew, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You stop here, Drew. You've gone back to where you belong. You still feel the rush of pleasure you've built up. It will not fade. It will continue to invigorate you, keeping you happy and contented." Whalen paused, crossing his fingers. Then, quietly, he asked, "Drew, what year is it?"

Drew was quiet. His eyes moved under his eyelids, as if he were checking around in his imagination to find a calendar. Then, he answered. "1996."

Whalen's mouth fell open, he quickly bit his knuckles to prevent himself squealing with delight. Then, wiping his hand son his pants, Whalen asked, "How old are you Drew?"


Whalen clutched his fists tightly and bit his lips. Time to go for the gold. "Drew? What are you doing in 2003?"

Drew twitched again, showing the first signs of discomfort since his little time travel excursion. Finally, he asked, "What?"

Whalen repeated. "You say it's 1996. What are you doing in 2003? Who have you met? What job do you have? Where do you live?"

Drew licked his lips. His expression took on the slightest air of concern. "Dude, it hasn't happen yet. It's like almost a decade away."

"Are you sure?"

"Are you high?"

Whalen patted him on the head. "Go back to sleep, young man. Feel good."


Whalen walked softly over to Josh and knelt beside him. "Joshua, you're going on a little trip back in time."


Again, Whalen worked his magic, tumbling Josh's psyche back in time, layering sensations of pleasure and contentment as the years and memories they held slipped away. Josh's expression of delight was even more pronounced than Drew's.

When Whalen was finished with Josh's temporal backward tumble, he had regressed Josh Duhamel by more than a dozen years. One dozen plus one, to be exact. Whalen rested a hand upon Josh's knee. "Josh? Can you hear me?"


"Can you tell me what year it is?"

"It's 1990."

"And how old are you, Josh?"


Whalen almost did a happy dance. He tugged a fist back and whispered the victory yell, "Yes!" He put Josh back under in a deep sleep and then took a step backward, looking his two newly-youthened teenagers over. Before, everything about them was so clear in their minds, so certain. Their identities had been established in their minds with such clarity. All Whalen had to do was smudge that clarity a bit, to fog that mental certitude. To make their history a bit more...vague. As of right now, their futures were as yet unwritten. Whalen was more than ready to start writing.

Doing his best to contain his joy, Whalen put his hands upon his hips and grinned. "Okay, fellas, how'd you like to begin work at your first big job?"


Drew sat nervously in his chair. He looked over at the guy next to him. He was pretty big. Must be a weight lifter. At the very least, the guy played football at school, he'd bet. Drew nodded at him. He nodded back.

Josh sat there wondering when this show would get moving. This was pretty far afield of anything he had dreamed of in the field of dentistry. But given that his grades weren't up to snuff for acceptance into dental college, he went with his next impulse and the urgings of others to pursue something in entertainment. Acting. This wasn't quite a lead role on a soap or anything, but the guy in charge sure seemed pretty interested in him.

Josh looked over at the other guy sitting nearby him. The kid needed a haircut. He looked a little too lanky, could use a few hours in the gym. But his eyes were kind of cool. The kid nodded at Josh, who returned the nod.

"Callbacks, huh?", Drew said.

Josh looked at him askance. "Huh?"

"Callbacks", Drew repeated. "Makes you a little nervous, huh?"

Josh crossed his arms. "Not really."

Drew looked at his feet. "Yeah. Me neither." He suddenly found whatever was going on outside the window to be fascinating. Oh, squirrels. Spiffy.

The door opened and out stepped the man in charge. Drew leapt to his feet right away. Josh looked at him like he was a dork. "If you gentlemen would care to step inside my office?" Josh got to his feet and the two followed the man inside. He gestured to two chairs in front of his desk, indicating the two young men should take a seat.

The man looked over the papers on desk; the small bios, the headshots. He looked up at Drew. "And you are...Drew Fulton?"


The man reached for a pen. "Fullllerr...", he drawled, making a correction on his papers. He looked to Josh, asking, "How do you pronounce your last name, Joshua? Doo-ha-mell?"


"Oh, that's even easier. Do you prefer Joshua or just Josh?"

"Just Josh, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. And I'm Whalen Glessano. Do you boys know what it is that I do in my show?" The two boys shook their heads. "I'm a stage hypnotist, but I also do more extensive skits within that act, usually with my subjects, and some adult humor." Whalen leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. "I've gotten something of a reputation for getting the best responses from my male subjects. Football players, actors, musicians, visiting frat boys, like that. I've started drawing considerable crowds made up mostly of girls and ladies. So I decided to add just a bit more appeal for the ladies by including a male assistant, both as actors and as eye candy, to be blunt. A position which both of you strapping lads are eminently qualified for." Whalen sat back. "So, what do you think?"

Drew and Josh exchanged looks. "What do we think of what?", Drew asked.

"Which one of us is hired?", Josh asked.

Whalen gave out a slight chuckle, looking embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry! Your agents didn't tell you?" The two shook their heads. "I was so impressed by both of you that I couldn't decide. You both have the job. Or jobs, in this case." Both boys looked both relieved and elated. Josh turned and smiled at Drew, all his tough-guy pretenses gone.

"So, have either of you ever been hypnotized?"

The two suddenly looked uncomfortable again. They answered in the negative. "Well, one of the things you'll do a lot is get hypnotized by me on stage." Whalen held up a hand to reassure them. "I'll walk you through it first, it's no big deal, I promise you. Sometimes there are no volunteers from the audience, so I use plants. That'll be you. The act will still be genuine, for certain, as I won't tell either of you in advance what to expect while on stage. Other than that, you'll be assisting on stage in various other capacities." He paused. Then, "You two don't happen to have any girlfriends, do you?"

"Nah", Drew said. "No time."

Josh agreed. "Nope. Not yet."

"Well, to be frank, that's good. We'll be touring a good deal of the time and it's always better not to have someone pining away at home and distracting you from the demanding job of doing the show."

Whalen stood up, offering introductions for the two young men now that his own was taken care of. "Josh, Drew. Drew, Josh. Spend a little time together. You'll be working together for quite a little while." Whalen exited the office as the boys stood, reached out, and shook each other's hands. Both young men smiled brightly and exchanged "Hey"s. Each boy had a firm handshake, on which they lingered for just a moment too long. Drew and Josh looked into each other's eyes and their gazes locked. Something passed between them for a second, and both of them felt it, though not certain by any means what it could have been.

After another twenty seconds, they realized they were still holding hands, and let go.

Word of Doctor Whalen Glessano & His Handsome Lads spread fairly quickly and soon they were drawing impressive crowds. Each night, Drew and Josh would warm up the crowd with skits and humorous exchanges, sometimes with a fast-paced question and answer session with the audience. They wore matching black tuxedos, and looked absolutely adorable. The pants were a bit more snug than on your average tux, as was the cinched waist of the jacket, but no one in the audience seemed to mind. The playful interaction between Josh and Drew was easy and natural, like that of best friends, or brothers. The mood was kept light and the anticipation high, for which the good Doctor Glessano would never disappoint.

Many times, Whalen would put Josh and Drew under before the crowd, and amaze them with a run-through of the powers of hypnosis. The boys would lose their tuxedo jackets and while in a trance, perform using abilities they didn't know they had. Whalen made Josh's body stiff as a board, suspended him between two chairs and had Drew walk across him. Josh would travel through the audience having people write down the names of their pets on a big sheet of paper. With a list of sometimes as many as 200 names, Josh would dash back to the stage and hold it before the entranced Drew's eyes for perhaps ten or twenty seconds, then yank the paper away. As Josh projected the paper on an overhead movie screen, Drew would then recite every name on the list flawlessly, in order.

Upon completion of stunts like this and a variety of others, the two tuxedoed boys would rise and take a bow. Hands held together, then raised up, Josh and Drew would give a quick bend at the waist. Invariably, they cast a quick glance at each other, a warm smile exchanged. After watching the two Handsome Lads in action, the audience was never at a loss for volunteers for the group induction portion of the program.

None of the people in attendance now approaching the stage noticed that Drew and Josh continued to hold hands well after taking their bow.


Josh and Drew came to love smaller audiences, or those filled with shy people hesitant to volunteer. In those cases, the boys would skip any warm-up acts and take their place in the crowd. The tuxedos left behind, Josh would usually wear a very snug mock turtleneck, Drew would don a flattering T-shirt and tight jeans. When the time came for Whalen to ask for volunteers, Josh and Drew were quick to wave their hands.

It was during these times that Whalen would forego the standard hypnotic tricks and go straight for the humorous manipulation. Here he had the chance to make a deeply hypnotized Josh and Drew slow dance together, or make out like kids at their first prom. Whalen would have the two boys share an ecstatic victory hug after an imagined football game, only to find that they were stuck together, chest to chest, arms glued to each other's backs. And of course, there was the favorite in which the boys believed they were performing atop the bar at a ladies strip club. It was a classic for a reason.

Both boys loved it all. Sometimes Whalen would let his boys remember what they had experienced while they were under, sometimes not. Either way, they must have been hypnotized dozens upon dozens of times during the initial run of the show. Both of them became remarkably responsive to suggestion and conditioned to go under, and to go under deep.

But all too soon, just as Whalen had promised, the local show was over and it was time to go on tour. A bit nervous about taking the show on the road, Drew and Josh spent a lot of time together in the trailer the night before departure, talking, sharing. Whalen encouraged it.

Drew and Josh were working out at a gym in one of their stops on the road. Whalen urged that the boys stay in top shape while performing, as their good looks were a strong part of the show's draw. Neither boy objected.

Drew was lying on the weight bench, doing chest presses as Josh stood above, spotting him. Josh wore extremely tight, extremely short gym shorts that did very little to hide his assets. Not surprisingly, both boys' workout gear had been provided by Whalen.

Drew stared up at Josh, or rather his crotch, and found himself growing short of breath. He realized it had nothing to do with the amount of weight he was pressing. Trying to stay focused, Drew kept bringing his eyes up to Josh's face. Josh smiled so warmly as he encouraged Drew to keep at his reps.

"25...26...good, good, man...27, pump it, that's the way...28..."

Josh had a way about him that with only an impish grin, he could make himself appear so much younger than he was, so unassuming and innocent. And if it were at all, possible, even cuter than he was. Drew shook his head slightly, astonished the thought had crept in. He moved his focus to the bank of lights overhead, away from Josh's beautiful boyish face, and instead got an eyeful of Josh's crotch again.

"Man", Drew said, "you are huge!"

Josh blinked. "How's that?"

Drew fumbled a bit with the barbell, and Josh helped him to return it to its support rests. Sitting up, Drew collected himself, saying, "I mean, the size of your arms and like that. You're pretty huge. I could use some more pumping up to get to where you are."

"Aw, I'd say you're body looks pretty good right now", Josh smiled. That amazing smile, that wide-eyed, 'I'm really just a loving, innocent kid' smile. Josh patted Drew on his bare arm, and his palm lingered there. The two gazed at each other, each feeling the warmth of his friend through their touch.

Josh started to say something but couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. Drew had such beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes you could get lost in...

"What are you thinking?", Drew asked.

Josh started slightly. "Huh? Why do you ask? What do you mea--"

"What are you thinking of doing next?", Drew clarified. "You wanna do your butterflies, leg lifts--"

Josh thought about how nice it would be to watch Drew with his arms outstretched on the butterfly, working his pecs. His hands clutched around the large black pads, almost as if they were manacled there. Each tug forward a fruitless attempt to free himself from imprisonment. Josh looked instead to the leg lift bench. He imagined Drew lying down on his chest, his legs curled behind him, lifting the padded bar, pushing him down into the cushion of the bench. Pushing, pushing...

"Help me with my sit ups", Josh suggested.

In the aerobics room, Josh sat on the mats and sat up time and again. Drew held his feet to the floor so the repetitions would go smoother. Josh kept his hands behind his head, moving forward towards Drew, the falling back away, then forward again. Toward Drew. Toward those eyes, those lips, that adorable nose..."

Drew was counting for him. Josh wasn't registering any of it. Just those exotic, intoxicating eyes. After how many sit-ups Josh could only guess, he sat up, hands still behind his head, and stared into Drew's eyes. He just sat there, frozen. Not moving, not speaking. Drew stared back.

"So are we done here?", Drew asked. He licked his lips. Josh wished to God he hadn't done that. It was so damn alluring.

Josh nodded. "I don't think I can take much more of this today."

Drew nodded. "Yeah, me neither."

Josh jumped up to his feet, grabbing up his towel and throwing it casually over his shoulder. "So, wanna hit the showers?"

Drew was still down on his knees, looking up at Josh, at his bulge, which had not gotten any smaller away from the bench press. Drew imagined Josh naked under a stream of warm water, spraying across his shoulders, his hair damp, soap suds spilling down his back, gathering in the crack of his bare ass...

"Um, I think I'm gonna stay here for a minute or two. Just sorta catch my breath. You know."

Josh looked down at Drew, imagined him kneeling just like that, only unclothed in the gym's whirlpool. Or better yet, the steam room. Kneeling upon a white towel, the mists gathering around his body, trails of sweat trickling down his arms. Over his chest. Slowly traveling down his flat stomach to gather in the hairs above his...

"You didn't do any sit-ups or anything, though. You should be cooled off by now from the time in free weights", Josh said.

Drew swallowed. "Even so."

Josh opted not to protest. He nodded and went off to the showers alone. He was going to make it a cold one. God knows the tiny white shorts he had on were doing precious little to hide what was beginning to stir down below.

Drew fell backwards onto the mats once Josh had gone. He did indeed need to catch his breath, but not due to a series of sit-ups, by any means. He let out an exasperated breath and after several minutes of staring at the fluorescent lights above, said two words.

"Holy shit."

While on tour, the tuxedos were gone. Drew and Josh needed smaller outfits that were easier to pack for travel. Also something to help with drawing crowds. As such, Josh and Drew wore very snug lightweight pants of lycra which sparkled as they caught the light. The wore matching open vests over their bare chests, which were now truly showing the benefits of hours spent in the gym. Bow ties and wrist cuffs added the final touch to their stage costumes.

Josh was in red, Drew was in royal blue. Both of them found it harder and harder to concentrate on the act while not under hypnosis. They were spending too much time staring at each other. Each of the boys in turn requested increased hypnosis time while on stage, having no idea that the other had made the same request of Whalen. Whalen was happy to oblige in their request.

They had been on the road for well over a year, doing their warm-up act, posing as audience members, being hypnotized, working out and hanging out together. The handsome lads of Glessano & His Handsome Lads had grown very close.

The costumes changed, depending on the town, depending on the show's theme for that night. The tuxes were still relegated to home shows, so everything else they wore tended to be lightweight and snug-fitting. Very snug-fitting.

During a show in which the theme was role-play (involving putting audience members into make believe situations where they could act out different roles), Josh and Drew were in very revealing costumes. They were both attired as medieval young men. They wore tights (which were very tight), slippers, and fanciful high-collared doublets. After helping the audience volunteers to the stage, it was up to Josh and Drew to slip surreptitiously into the wings so the focus could be on Whalen and the house volunteers.

In the wings, hidden between the heavy black curtains, Josh and Drew turned to face each other. Drew said, "This is driving me fucking crazy. You look so hot in that costume."

Josh gulped. "You--you look kind of cute, too, Drew. I mean, really."

Drew's beautiful eyes darted about, up and down his friend's face and chest. "God, Josh, stop me if I'm out of line or just fucking crazy, but I am so into you. You looks so hot, and you're so wonderful, I--I want so badly to kiss you--just push me the hell away if I'm wrong, but I could swear you feel it, too--"

Josh pulled Drew close to him. "You're not wrong."

The two shared their first kiss. Their first genuine kiss, without being under hypnosis on stage. This lip lock was devoid of humorous trickery, and instead burned with passion. Drew's hands reached up and delicately traced Josh's face. Josh's hands wrapped around Drew's waist and held him tightly, caressing his hips, kneading his thighs.

Drew gasped in between kisses, "Oh, Josh, I think I'm falling in love with you."

One of Josh's hands slipped around to the front of Drew's tights and pressed firmly against the smaller boy's throbbing erection. "You're not alone", Josh admitted.

The two boys, lost in their embrace, stumbled backwards past the curtains, the heavy material flapping around them. They thudded against the backstage wall, not caring about the sudden impact. They cared only about each other.

Kissing with wild abandon, arms stroking and groping everywhere. Josh and Drew tumbled backwards into the backstage area, well out of sight of the audience or the main stage. On the floor, the two beautiful young men in period costume wrestled with each other. Playfully at first, then with passionate abandon. Josh was first to rip off Drew's costume doublet, and Drew soon followed in suit by yanking off Josh's. Oversized decorative buttons popped from the padded jacket's breast and flew across the room.

Bare-chested, clad only in tights--which were being strained more and more to contain what was inside them--Josh and Drew made the leap at that moment beyond co-workers, beyond fellow cats members. At that moment, they were officially boyfriends. Neither of them could be happier.

Whalen stood over Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel, looking down at them with supreme satisfaction. The 23 year old heartthrob and 31 year old actor writhed on the floor of the rented stage, hopelessly lost in each other, in the joy of their love.

"Not bad", Whalen thought to himself. "Regressed to teen years then brought through more than a year together of turning gay to wind up as boyfriends in just over an hour and a half. That's gotta be some kind of record."

As Josh and Drew continued to kiss, each one working to strip the other of his imagined tights without breaking contact with his mouth, Whalen knelt beside them. Very softly, but loud enough to be heard, Whalen began to describe Drew and Josh's time together, the many road shows in which they disappeared to the wings to engage in their passion for each other. And countless other romantic interludes and adventures that made their initial experience pale by comparison.

"Listen closely, my boys", Whalen whispered. "We've got a lot of ground to cover. Then we get to really take this show on the road."


The virtual touring via hypnosis was over and the actual touring began in earnest. Whalen booked the three of them in various out-of-the-way locations; county fairs, community theaters, small colleges, and the like. Drew and Josh were given stage names, and the ages they thought they were (by now Drew believed himself to be 20, Josh to be 22) contrasted the truth as further camouflage. Josh's youthful looks had more than himself believing that he was only in his early twenties.

Since both men were so well known, totally avoiding recognition was nearly impossible. But Whalen had obscured Drew and Josh's perceptions so that they never recognized their own names whenever anyone inquired. If asked, "Aren't you that one guy from Charmed?-or-from All My Children?", their typical response was, "No, I've got to admit, I don't know that name", after which they offered their stage names. Another favorite response was a shake of the head, a bemused smile, and the reply, "You have no idea how often we get that."

The tours went splendidly, during which Whalen amused and delighted crowds, as did his two gorgeous assistants who fell more deeply in love each passing day.

On one performance for a small summer carnival audience, Drew and Josh took the stage after mingling with the crowd. Josh was clad in a loose plaid shirt, unbuttoned enough to show off his impressive chest. He had on tight faded jeans atop tan cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Everything about Josh screamed "yokel". All except his face, anyway. Drew was clad in a snug white wife beater tee over very form-fitting stonewashed bib overalls and work boots. Once on the stage as "volunteers", Whalen put them under and put them under deep.

Whalen had enjoyed the remote spots for their act inasmuch as it allowed him venues to try new tricks with his boys. One of which he had grown particularly fond involved Drew becoming glued to Josh's back. Back-to-front, Josh would do all he could to shake off the young man cemented magically to his back, but to no avail. Walking, sitting down, any movement that would be normal under other circumstances had the onlookers rolling with laughter. And the boys had no problem with being stuck together in that particular position, either. The only trouble was hiding Drew's erection after he was eventually dislodged.

But this time Whalen had something else in mind. He put Drew and Josh under and had them envision a walk along a beach. They were soon caught up in the smell of the sea air, the gentle spray from the waves, the warmth of the sunshine on their bodies. It was reaching the point when the two would involuntarily begin to hold hands. But Whalen would not let that happen. At least not in front of an audience.

Instead, he stopped them in their tracks as they walked along their imaginary shoreline. "You know what I think is just too wonderful?", he asked no one in particular. "Taking your dog for a walk along the beach. You guys think that's a wonderful, manly activity, don't you?"

Josh and Drew were quick to agree. Whalen then made a discovery. To Josh, he said, "But--it would appear that you don't have a dog, fella. How would you like one?" Josh was happy to have a canine companion to enjoy the beach with him. So Whalen turned to Drew and spoke to him very deliberately.

"You are becoming a dog for your friend here. You are no longer a young man at a summer carnival. The part of you that is a young man is slipping away and you are feeling yourself drop down to all fours. You can feel it, can't you?"

Numbly, Drew nodded. His beautiful eyes had glazed over and his jaw was growing slack. He twitched slightly, and began to hunch over.

"Are you a young man?", Whalen asked.

Softly, Drew replied, "No..."

"So what are you, then?"

"...'m...I'm a dog..." Drew dropped further down, his arms outstretched before him as he submitted to being on all fours.

"So what, you're a talking dog, then?", Whalen asked, incredulous. The people watching laughed. "Do dogs generally talk? Or are you just special"

Drew looked confused for a second, but only for a second. "No...dogs don't...we don't...rrrrRuff! Ruff! RrrrrRUFF! ROWF!"

With that, Drew was every inch a dog. A dog in overalls and work boots, but a dog nonetheless. He skipped about on all fours, happily racing around his master Josh's legs, shaking his ass in what could only be interpreted as wagging his tail.

"Geez, he's one hyper dog", Whalen observed. "He must be a lab." Whalen reached into a nearby prop chest and tossed something to Josh. "Here you go, friend. Take your new dog for a walk."

Josh was more than glad to fasten the prop--a large dog collar--around Drew's neck and lead him along by way of the attached leash. The audience applauded, both for the ridiculous humor the dog-boy provided, and for the utterly convincing dog that Drew made. Everything about him appeared to be canine. His stance, his movements, the tilt of his head, the eagerness of his eyes. It was blatantly obvious to everyone that the young farm boy was still just a young farm boy, but his actions screamed barnyard dog.

Drew leapt in front of Josh and began to sniff curiously at his crotch, which sent the tiny audience into hysterics. Josh tried to take a few steps backward, but the overanxious Drew just kept prodding ahead with his nose, sniffing, and then to the shock of all, licking his master's crotch.

Josh, also under the impression that Drew was indeed a dog, gave him a good yank on his leash and scolded, "Easy, there! Down, boy!" Doing just the opposite, Drew jumped up, with his hands--or in this case, his front paws--on Josh's shoulders and joyously licked Josh's face. Josh laughed along with everyone else, though perhaps not as loudly, and patted his dog on the head, repeating, "Good boy, good dog! Good dog!"

Whalen halted that skit and changed Drew back to Drew (albeit the 20-year-old gay one) before the routine got too stale. The boys were dismissed from the stage to a round of appreciative applause and then more hands went up of those who wanted to enjoy the fun and mystery of hypnosis. Kids hollered for their dads to go up and be put under, boyfriends were volunteered by their sweethearts. Back behind the pavilion where Whalen did his act, Drew and Josh reconvened.

"Now that", Drew cited, "was one hell of an experience." He threw his arms around Josh's neck and kissed him passionately.

Josh flipped the strong leather loop around Drew's neck. "We walked off with the prop collar. Hope nobody noticed." Drew was too busy kissing his boyfriend to care. Josh wrapped the leash around his hand and gently pulled Drew even closer to him. "Hope you don't mind if I want to leave it one you for a while."

Drew pulled back, a strange look on his face. At first Josh thought his comment had crossed a line, but Drew said, "I have the oddest feeling in the back of my mind that I once told Whalen not to make me bark like a dog."

Josh grinned his wonderful, boyish grin. "Don't recall. But what can I say, you are man's best friend. This man, at any rate."

Drew placed his hands around the back of Josh's head and kissed him even more eagerly. "I thought I was a hell of a lot more than just that."

The tour was going great. They had been on the road for a couple months when Whalen opened the door to their trailer to find the two boys waiting inside.

"Waiting" would perhaps be too inadequate a word. What he found were Drew and Josh buck naked, Drew down on his knees before Josh, Josh running his fingers through Drew's hair. Drew was lightly kissing Josh's abs and was working his way down. Whalen only smiled. Then the smile faded as he entered and closed the door behind him.

"Guys, I have something to tell you."

They both turned to look at Whalen, neither one of them shaken by being seen together, much less in so compromising a position. They stayed just as they were. "What's up?", Drew asked.

"Family business out of the country. I'm afraid that for the time being, I've got to cancel the tour. I'm sorry, boys."

Josh and Drew looked heartbroken. "No way", Drew said. "It's over? Just like that?"

Josh said, "There must be some way we can stay together. Maybe the two of us can continue the act somehow while you take care of things with your family, then you can come back--"

Whalen shook his head. "The act can't be maintained without a hypnotist as well as the two boys. Unless one of you has been taking a correspondence course I'm unaware of." The two boys looked at each other, crestfallen. Whalen walked over and helped the naked Drew to his feet.

"Look. We all knew this wouldn't be a permanent gig when we started out. I'm sure if this went on too much longer, if anything I'd be holding you back. You're both born entertainers and fine performers. I can see so much for you." Whalen draped his arms affectionately around Josh and Drew's shoulders. "I'll bet in no time at you guys will be big-time models, doing commercials, movies, maybe even your own TV series."

The boyfriends looked at each other, smiling meekly. Somehow, each one of them knew that sounded right.

"But whether the two of you make an acting team or go your separate ways in the world of show business, there is one favor I'd like to ask of you."

"Anything", said Drew.

"Name it", Josh added.

"Well, fellas, it's like this..."


Whalen sat back in the small theater that Busby had allowed him to use months before. The music played over the speakers, the lights ran on their automated triggers, flashing and stroking where called for, lasers stabbing through the darkness to refract off the shower of glitter sprinkling down from the catwalk high above.

High above the stage, Drew and Josh hovered on their flying harnesses. Once again, Drew was dressed as an angel, although his physique was more sculpted and his skin a darker tan. His faux wings flapped majestically from his shoulders as his taut arms held onto Josh's waist.

Josh was again dressed, or half-dressed, as the cop, his mirrored shades reflecting the light, his head tilted back in ecstasy. a look of sheer rapture on his face. The two spun there together, suspended in space and time, as Drew lovingly kissed Josh's neck.

The music and lights changed, and the duo descended to the stage. The lasers of blue disengaged, and spots of warm yellow focused on the two of them as their harness tethers were released and drawn up and away. Drew removed Josh's sunglasses and tucked them into the officer's shirt pocket. Angel Drew went down on one knee and peeled away Josh's jock strap.

Slowly, very attentively, Drew went down on Officer Josh. Lips sliding up and down Josh's shaft, Drew inhaled deeply as his tongue worked its magic on Josh's member. Josh leaned backwards, his back arching, his eyes squinted shut, his mouth stretched open in joy. Drew's attention was amazing, and he lingered on Josh for several minutes, drawing breath inward, pausing, blowing, and repeating the process, again and again. He brought Josh to the brink of orgasm multiple times, only to back off and make the sensations linger.

Finally, Josh's moans indicated that there was no way he could hold out any longer, and Drew pulled off. Drew pressed Josh's throbbing erection to him and let Josh shoot all over himself, coating his own abs and chest.

Drew rose up to look the gasping Josh in the eye. Delicately, he reached into the other breast pocket of Josh's uniform shirt, and brought out a condom. Keeping his eyes locked with Josh's, Drew tore open the small square packet with his teeth, spitting the wrapper aside. Drew handed the condom to Josh, who then bent down, pulled away Drew's G-string and rolled the condom over Drew's penis.

Still panting, Josh allowed Drew to turn him around. Drew massaged Josh's back and shoulders. He then kneaded Josh's buttocks and applied generous amounts of lube. Slowly, carefully, Drew slipped himself inside Josh's hole and began to pump. The pace was steady at first, then slowly increased in speed and intensity. Josh was son gasping once again, and Drew's face, which was so angelic only a moment ago, was a tense mask of concentration.

Soon the skin on both of them was slick with sweat, their bodies pumping and grinding in aggressive unison. Josh clutched his nightstick and twisted it in his hands, his gasps and groans growing louder with each thrust. At long last, Drew threw back his head, his hair now slicked against his brow and moist with perspiration and, grasping Josh's waist, let out a cry of pleasure and exhaustion. As Drew fired, his cry was mirrored by Josh.

Behind them both, twin fountains erupted geysers of fourteen feet and two large Roman candles went off, sending a shower of brilliant orange sparks into the air. The music reached its climax, and the lights faded to black just as Drew collapsed forward onto his hypnotized boyfriend.

Whalen, the audience of one, rose to his feet whistling and cheering as he clapped until his palms ached. All around the empty auditorium, no less than six cameras, strategically placed, recorded everything. Later, Whalen would edit the tapes privately. His own remarkable memento of the incredible last two months of his life in which he'd made an erotic fantasy come true.


It had taken another couple days to make sure that everything was properly undone. But that all was now right with the world was something of which Whalen was more than certain.

He had taken Drew and Josh back to their teenage years again and very slowly and painstakingly walked them back through their memories. Drew Fuller once again recalled appearing in a Pepsi commercial with Brittney Spears. He appeared in the baffling five-minute short called "The One", the odious "Vampire Cult", and the homoerotic cult classic DeCoteau movie "Voodoo Academy". Perhaps some memories were best left forgotten, but Whalen knew it was not up to him to make that distinction.

After all, if Josh Duhamel were to remember the arduous time he spent digging ditches and the fact that his school grades were too dismal to go to dentistry school, Drew would not get off nay easier. So the hard times were put back in places, as were the joys and the successes, the fashion magazines and television programs.

As for the last two months, Drew and Josh fully believed they had taken a lighthearted sabbatical working with a Vegas showman who had taken his act on the road to small towns and county fairs. Both stars felt they had taken a break while at the same time tracing their profession back to its roots of small stages and modest crowds. Drew and Josh both returned to their previous lives fully refreshed, fully heterosexual, and eager to return to work. All that Whalen had once made vague in the minds of Drew and Josh, he returned to full clarity.

Well, almost all. Anything they recalled of Whalen Glessano was very much the G-rated version.

As for Whalen, he had a special treat to remember his adventures of manipulating, controlling, and let's be honest- bringing unspeakable joy to two wonderful and beautiful male celebrities.

Whalen walked into his private entertainment center in his home and plopped himself down on the couch. Over to his left was stack after stack of videotapes he'd shot himself. They were labeled in order, DREW Volume One, DREW Volume Two, and on up to DREW Volume Twenty-Seven. To his right was a similarly massive pile of tapes, all twenty-eight of these labeled as JOSH.

Whalen sat down with his remote in one hand and a glass of chardonnay in the other. He aimed it at his plasma flat screen, which flickered to life before him. Cluttered in a heap on the floor directly in front of him, beneath the TV, was another set of tapes, thirty this time, labeled JOSH & DREW TOGETHER.

Whalen pushed "play" on his remote and settled back in his chair as the image on the screen went to black, then faded in on Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel, seated side by side with their arms around each other. From off-screen, Whalen's voice asked, "Okay, so where were we? When did we last leave our heroes?"

Drew said into the camera, "We were talking about when we first met." He nudged Josh in the ribs. "And how mister smarty-pants dentist boy here said he thought I was a total dweeb."

Josh tried to look innocent. "I never said I thought you were a dweeb. I thought you were a dork."

Drew slapped him on the leg. "You asshole!"

Josh leaned over and kissed Drew on the ear. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

Drew hunched his shoulders, laughing slightly. "That tickles." He looked over at Josh and their eyes met. Slowly, the two began to move together, their lips parting to kiss.

"Never knew you were so ticklish...", Josh mumbled. "Should've kissed you on the ear before now."

Drew smiled. "You were too busy kissing me in other places." Their lips brushed together, and Whalen cleared his throat from off-camera.

"A-Hemm! Let's not lose track of what we were discussing, okay guys?"

"Right, right!", Drew said.

"Absolutely", Josh agreed, straightening his posture. Then, "So where else are you ticklish?"

"Anyway!", Drew went on as if he hadn't heard him, "Josh and I were there in your office for callbacks--what we thought were callbacks, and I am scared shitless. He's all confident and sure of himself, and all I can think is 'God, I hope I get cast in this' and afraid I'm gonna pee myself."

"I was not confident and sure of myself. I just acted like I was. I was faking it", Josh amended.

"How could I know that? And I looked at you, and I was all, damn, he is so fucking good-looking. He is just plain gorgeous." Then, to the camera, Drew said, "And I'd never felt that way about a guy before!"

Josh's face lit up. "Me neither! And after the meeting when we shook hands, it was--it was like--"

"Like it was meant to be", Drew said.

"Yeah." The two leaned forward to kiss, and this time Whalen let them. He let them take as long as they wanted and tell the story in their own way. They had a lot of ground to cover--half a dozen years by their memory--and Whalen had plenty of tape.

Whalen had spent a week with his hypnotized stars after they left the road tour. He interviewed them together, and each of them separately as they recounted their adventures of their very first gay love affair. Drew recalled so many tender moments, hidden rendezvous and secret meetings. Josh recalled the sex, the heat of it, the intensity, the passion. Both of them remembered in intricate detail everything that, at the moment of the taping, they believed with all the hearts had truly happened.

Whalen viewed the tapes again and again. He never got tired of them. The sincerity, the devotion each remarkable man showed during his hypnotized period in which he was a young gay man in love. Of course, no one but Whalen could ever see these tapes. But that was alright.

Every time he watched them, and he watched them plenty of times, Whalen saw something new in them. Drew and Josh were able to account for nearly every day of a six-year tryst that in reality had lasted only sixty days. One wonderful thing about gifted actors, you could always assess their talents by the power of their imagination.

And just like Whalen Glessano, Drew Fuller and Josh Duhamel could imagine a lot.

If you enjoyed this story, please write the author and let him know so he'll write more, at [email protected]