Disclaimer: This is fiction; there is no intended similarity to anyone. It may be read only by those who are of legal age in their communities, and who are not offended by the ideas of male/male sex or erotic hypnosis. If you enjoy this story, please try writing a story of your own for the rest of us to read.

Batter Up!

(another Tom LeBlanc story)

by

Hyptrance

Rob Carlton was a golden boy. He had it all: youth, beauty (a lean, toned, athletic body, wavy red-gold hair, deep blue eyes, and a face so pretty that, had he been an actor, it would have sent all of the competition into panic and depression from sheer envy), and talent with a capital T. A 20-year-old baseball phenom with an arm like a rattlesnake striking, he had been drafted into the minors straight out of high school, and now he was here at the spring training camp of the honest-to-God San Francisco Giants!

Rob had never felt better about himself than when he got that call from the Giant’s manager, but now he was finding that the big leagues were definitely not like the minors. His arm was as fast and as strong as ever, but the pressure was really getting to him. His timing and control were off big-time, and he was looking like anything but a pro. After one particularly disappointing effort the pitching coach had finally shouted, “Get your head out of your ass, Carlton! This ain’t fuckin’ high school. If you can’t cut it, go back to Little League!” Rob was sitting disconsolately in the dugout, his head in his hands, when he felt a light pat on his shoulder. He looked up to see Nick Constantinides, the team’s promising rookie power hitter smiling sympathetically down at him.

Nick was Rob’s only real friend at the camp so far. The two young men had hit it off naturally, being much of an age, and sharing the awkwardness of being the newest members. In addition, they shared a certain amiable contempt for that kind of ball-player who lets his body go just because the physical demands of the sport are not as great as, say, gymnastics, so they frequently encountered one another in the weight room, working those muscle groups that the spring training regimen was neglecting. They had even double-dated, Rob with his steady girlfriend, and Nick with the belle-du-jour. In his own way, Nick was every bit as good-looking as Rob, with perfect olive skin, glossy black hair, and those devastating, long-lashed dark eyes that seem to occur only along the Mediterranean. Not that arrow-straight Rob tended to notice such things.

“He was being pretty rough on you today,” Nick said as he plumped down onto the bench next to his friend.

Rob grimaced. “Not really. I stink on ice! If I can’t figure out how to get back on track soon, I deserve to get sent back down!”

“I know how you’re feeling,” said Nick. “When I first got here, I was so nervous I couldn’t get a hit off the bat-boy. But, you know, I’m doing okay now.”

“Yeah, you’re on your way to becoming a star!” Rob turned away, hoping his envy wasn’t too obvious. “Mind telling me how you turned it around?”

“I got help. There’s this guy in town, Tom LeBlanc. He’s a hypnotist. He can help you control your nerves and hang onto your concentration. His number is ___-____. Call him up and make an appointment. What have you got to lose?”

Rob was too wrapped up in his own misery to notice how Nick’s handsome face had gone momentarily blank while reciting this information. He just copied down the phone number, and later that afternoon called to make an appointment for the following day.

“Hello, you must be Rob Carlton. Please come in. I’m Tom LeBlanc.”

Rob was somewhat taken aback as he was ushered into Tom’s living room. He guessed that he should have realized from the guy’s voice, but Tom was a heck of a lot younger than he’d expected. Hell, he hardly looked older than Rob himself, and that boyish face of his made it a little hard to take him seriously as a therapist. They had already discussed over the phone what Rob was hoping to achieve in the session, but now he felt obliged to ask, somewhat dubiously, “Are you sure you can do anything for me? I mean, well, I can be pretty stubborn, strong-willed. I’m not sure I can be hypnotized.”

Tom laughed, “It isn’t a contest of who has the stronger will! As long as you put your will towards letting yourself go into trance, we’ll both be working for the same thing. Just be stubborn about concentrating on my instructions and following them exactly, and you’ll do just fine.” Tom wasn’t concerned in the least. The very fact that Rob was letting pressure affect his pitching was a good indication in itself that the young man was highly suggestible.

“Now, what I would like you to do is to sit over here in this comfortable chair, feet flat on the floor, hands palms up in your lap.”

Rob took the position as requested, and while Tom told him to take deep cleansing breaths, relax all his muscles, and concentrate on his hands, he thought to himself, “This is pretty silly.” But he followed the orders as closely as he could, and soon he had to admit that he was really feeling relaxed. Tom had a great voice, soothing, dark, almost sensual. It just kind of wormed its way into his thoughts, directing them wherever Tom wanted. Then the hypnotist said that one of Rob’s hands would begin to rise up in the air all by itself, and that, when it touched Rob’s face, he would close his eyes and go into a deep sleep. Rob thought “That’s ridiculous!” but just then his right hand began to float obediently up from his lap. Rob stared at it, helplessly fascinated, thinking, “Man, this is strange! This is really, really stra…” The hand brushed his forehead, and then he wasn’t thinking anything at all, as his eyelids fluttered shut, and his whole body sagged limply down in the chair.

Tom smiled as he looked at his sleeping subject. It had been, as he knew it would be, simple to place the young jock under his control. He began the deepening process. “Rob, you cannot wake up, no matter what, until I tell you to. Nothing can disturb you. No sounds have any meaning for you except the sound of my voice. You will have no thoughts except those I tell you to have, and you’ll obey instantly and without resistance whatever suggestions I give you. If you understand, nod your head.” Rob nodded twice, his hand still touching his forehead like a salute, and then his head sagged forward again, until his chin rested on his chest. “Your hand is getting heavier, now,” Tom continued. “It begins to float slowly down again, and as is does, each fraction of an inch it descends pulls you down deeper and deeper… deeper and deeper. When your hand finally touches your lap you will be much more deeply in trance.”

Christ, he was glad he’d been wearing loose trousers! Rob was so fucking beautiful that Tom had started to spring a boner even before he had control of the kid. If the young pitcher had noticed, there would have been real trouble. The hypnotist shook off the thought and resumed his monolog, stroking himself occasionally.

“Rob, I want you to take particular note of a phrase. The phrase is, ‘Batter up!’ Repeat that phrase, please.” Rob mumbled a sleepy response. “You will say that phrase to yourself whenever you are feeling troubled or stressed during a ballgame, and immediately you will be able to relax and concentrate, knowing throughout your whole being that you are able to do this, and that the contest is not between you and your opponents, but only between yourself and your absolute best.” Tom repeated this in various ways, several times, until he was sure that the boy had been thoroughly indoctrinated. Then he switched to his own agenda. “You will remember that phrase, and you will use it with the results I have described, but it will have one other meaning for you. If I, and only I, say to you, ‘Batter up!’ that will be your signal to go instantly back under hypnosis, each time twice as deeply as you have ever gone before. Repeat that instruction.” Rob did. “You will have no conscious awareness, now or ever, of this meaning of ‘Batter up!’ but you will respond to it at any time, no matter what the circumstances. You will come back here in a week for another appointment at this same time, and in the meantime, you will practice going into trance. Each night when you go to bed, just before you fall asleep, you will go into deep trance, always twice as deeply as the previous night, and you will silently repeat all of these instructions, including those of which you will never have any waking memory, to yourself three times before entering true sleep. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Rob’s soft voice slurred the words.

Tom was sorely tempted to take advantage of the pretty young ballplayer then and there, But he had already made an appointment for only a little later with young Danny Sullivan and Tom’s hypno-protégé Johnny Miller. It couldn’t be postponed, for Johnny, in his position as a teaching assistant in the university psychology department, was scheduled to hypnotize a new, all-male batch of undergraduate volunteers for Dr. Thurman’s latest experiment. Tom wanted to reinforce Johnny’s unconscious compulsion to give the handsomest of the young college students an extra suggestion or two to Tom’s specifications.

“Rob, when I snap my fingers you will be wide awake and feeling fine, remembering about your hypnosis only those things I told you to remember.” Tom clicked his fingers and Rob’s eyes popped open. He smiled and stretched luxuriously.

“Wow, that sure felt great! I hope it works. I feel like it will. Thanks an awful lot, Mr. LeBlanc.” Rob shook Tom’s hand

“Tom, please!” said the hypnotist. “I’ll see you next week for the refresher.” And he led his unsuspecting new slave to the door. It was scarcely five minutes after Rob had left when, in obedience to their posthypnotic compulsion, Danny and Johnny arrived, both of them conveniently thrown into profound hypnosis by the simple act of walking through Tom’s doorway.

Rob noticed an immediate improvement in his performance during the following week. He felt like himself again, and at the first practice after his session, even if Nick did get a piece of one of his pitches and send it into orbit, Rob retired the team’s other three leading hitters on straight strikes. His fastball was back to laser speed, and he was throwing some ungodly breaking stuff. The feisty pitching coach actually patted him on the butt and said, “Way to go, Rookie!” Rob thanked Nick over and over, never noticing that his friend looked a little confused, as though he weren’t exactly clear on how he had anything to do with it. And at night in bed, completely unaware, the young jock continued to increase the hypnotist’s hold over him.

Tom, in the meantime, had been struck by an intriguing idea for his next session with Rob, and had made a certain phone call. As a result, when, in response to his planted suggestion, the young pitcher arrived at the hypnotist’s home, he found his teammate already seated in the living room.

“Hey, Nick, what are you doing here?” he exclaimed. But Nick just sat unmoving, his eyes staring vacantly, his face completely blank. “Nick? What the hell’s the matter with you?!”

“Nick is in a very deep trance,” said the hypnotist from behind Rob. “Aren’t you, Nick?”

Without moving a muscle otherwise, Nick mindlessly repeated, “…very deep trance.”

“And he has to do anything I tell him to. I had him come here so that I could be entertained by watching the two of you have sex together.”

Rob recoiled, stiff with disgust. “You sick bastard! Let him go!” He ran to Nick and shook him. “Jesus, Nick, snap out of it!” But Nick remained unresponsive.

“He can only react to my commands,” said Tom. Then he grinned evilly. “Just like you, Rob. Batter up!” The young pitcher was frozen helpless in his tracks.

“Now sit down next to Nick and wait for your instructions.” The hypnotist watched with satisfaction as Rob, moving like a sleepwalker, went back to the couch. When the young men were seated side by side, Tom continued, “Rob, tell me how old you are.”

“’M twenty,” came the drowsy reply.

“And you, Nick?”

“Twenty-one.”

“No, you are both mistaken,” Tom said forcefully. He began to stroke the two handsome faces gently, teasing the tender lips until he was essentially finger-fucking the two unresisting mouths. “As I touch your face, you feel yourself growing younger… growing younger and younger… until you are sixteen years old. Feel the years drift away from you, everything about them remote and forgotten. They no longer exist for you. You know nothing of being twenty or twenty-one. But you do know how you feel and think as a teenager, as a sixteen-year-old boy. Now, how old are you?”

This time the sleepy young men responded, “Sixteen,” and in some indefinable way their inflections and demeanor had changed. They looked younger and more innocent, more openly helpless.

Tom went on, “Rob, your parents are away for the whole weekend, and you have the house to yourself. You have invited your best friend Nick to spend the weekend with you, and you plan to have a great time. Nick, you have come to spend the weekend with your best friend Rob, while his parents are away. The two of you are all alone. You will always hear my voice and obey me, but you do not have any awareness of my actual physical presence. You accept my voice as your own thoughts, your own ideas and desires, so irresistible that you cannot even think of not acting upon them. Now, turn and look at your friend.”

The two young ballplayers turned to gaze intently into each other’s eyes.

“Keep looking at your friend, and as you do, think of nothing but how handsome he is, how sexy and exciting. He is the most beautiful, the hottest person, male or female, that you’ve ever seen. And he’s your very best friend, the one person you like and admire above all the rest. You can’t take your eyes from him, and as you stare, you are aware that you are falling deeply, passionately, helplessly in love with him. You can’t resist these feelings. You are falling in love… falling in love… falling in love.”

Tom watched with mounting arousal on his part, as Nick and Rob gazed longingly at each other, their slackly hypnotized expressions growing more and more sappy with teenaged lust. Both young men had developed marked tenting at the well-packed crotches of their jeans.

The hypnotist continued, “You can think of nothing but how much you love your wonderful, handsome friend; how much you long to touch him, to taste his kisses, to know every inch of his body. You are almost uncontrollable with desire; with the need to suck his cock and be sucked by him, to fuck and be fucked.” Tom looked at the boys who were almost vibrating with hypnotically induced need. “But you don’t know that your friend feels the same way. And you can’t stand the thought that he might be disgusted or stop being your friend, so you will have to find some way to seduce him (or, better still, a way to encourage him to seduce you). At the count of three, although you will remain deeply hypnotized sixteen-year-olds, totally obedient to my suggestion, you will be able to talk and move freely and normally, so that you may resolve this situation. One… two… three.” And Tom settled back in his chair to watch the show.

At the sound of that third number, animation returned to the two young men, although there remained a certain residual blankness hinting at their still-entranced state. They immediately broke off their lovesick staring and, as inconspicuously as they could, re-crossed their legs to try to conceal the obvious bulges, at the same time sneaking sidelong glances at each other, trying to determine whether their boners has been noticed. Rob’s fair skin reddened slightly with embarrassment, and to cover his discomfiture he said, “Hey, Nick, wanna watch some tube?” and reached for the remote.

“Okay,” Nick agreed. “See if there’s a ballgame or something.”

After a quick surf through the channels they settled on MTV, and were soon making typically rude teenage comments about the current cast of The Real World. These slurs rapidly degenerated into a friendly game of insults that escalated into a wrestling match. For a while Tom watched his hypnotized playthings rough-housing like healthy sixteen-year-olds, and then he said, “It feels so good to be touching your friend, that you can’t help but get another huge hard-on.” The two boys continued to roll around, although their holds became almost undiscernibly more sensual as they grappled. Finally though, Nick, who was slightly the larger of the two, pinned Rob, lying full-length on top of him, face to face. Both young men froze, as each registered that his erection was pressed against an answering hardness. They stared into each other’s eyes with mixed fear, hope, and desire, as their lips drew ever so slowly closer and closer, and finally touched. This kiss, which had begun so tentatively, gradually deepened from its uncertain, almost virginal tenderness, until Rob and Nick were avidly devouring each other’s faces, mouths open, tongues dueling passionately. Nick was rubbing and caressing Rob’s chest through his thin shirt, while Rob’s hands were squeezing and fondling Nick’s jean-clad ass. Their crotches ground together.

Tom had undressed, and now moved in to observe at closer range, and to caress the two young men. “You cannot think of anything now but sex,” he commanded. “You must make love. You have no choice. Now undress each other.”

Without breaking off their kiss, Nick began to fumble with the buttons of Rob’s shirt, while Rob began to undo Nick’s belt buckle and then the buttons of his jeans. Tom pitched in to help remove shoes and socks, but the young men, obedient to their hypnotic conditioning, appeared to pay him no attention. In short order both boys were shed of their clothing and locked once more in a feverish, writhing embrace.

Nick kissed his way down Rob’s neck, and began to lick his nearly hairless chest and to chew gently on his hardened pink nipples. Rob thrashed back and forth, losing all coordination in a paroxysm of delight. His erection began to leak pre-cum almost continuously. The young Greek batter continued his oral ministrations down the blond pitcher’s flat stomach, drawn irresistibly to the erotic odor of the drooling cock. He found it with his mouth, smearing Rob’s juices all over his lips and nostrils as he nuzzled and lapped.

“Suck it! Oh, please suck it!” Rob moaned, and the hypnotist seconded, “Yes, Nick, you must suck that cock. You can’t help yourself.” And Nick, helpless as a puppet, began dutifully to deep-throat Rob’s tasty meat, while Tom stroked his back and buttocks encouragingly, and began to finger his asshole.

Rob went crazy, arms thrashing, hips flexing as he pumped in and out of Nick’s mouth for all he was worth. “Oh, God, that’s so great! Ohhh, my God, I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum!!” he shouted. And then, as the spasms shook him, he groaned in his hypnotized-teen voice, as if it were forced out of him beyond his control, “Oh, God, Nick, I love you so much! I love you!!” He pumped out an enormous load, partly into Nick’s mouth, and then, as Nick had to release the spewing cock or drown, all over his friend’s handsome face.

Afterward Rob fell back almost fainting, and Nick, cheeks and even eyebrows slimed with spend, worked his way back up the handsome pitcher’s body until he was again kissing him passionately, sharing the jism. Soon both beautiful young faces were damp and sticky; both hypnotized young men drunken and dizzy with the taste and scent of cum.

Tom, masturbating furiously (but thanks to a little dose of self-hypnosis, in no danger of cumming before he wished), knelt next to the boys as they nuzzled, and spoke softly into Rob’s ear. “Rob, you love Nick so much that you will do anything to make him happy. You will let him fuck you. Ask him now.”

Instantly and compulsively obedient, Rob murmured, “Nick, I love you so much. Please fuck me. Fuck me hard!”

And then Tom whispered into Nick’s ear, “Nick, more than anything, you want to fuck Rob’s ass. You must have him!” The hypnotist began to finger the batter’s asshole again. “And while you fuck him, you will let me fuck you. You can’t resist me.”

Rob compliantly lifted his legs and presented his rosy little pucker to Nick, who, moving as mechanically as a doll, began to lick and massage it with his tongue. When he had Rob squirming and panting uncontrollably, begging for his cock, Nick drove his dribbling erection home in the sloppy boy-cunt and began to fuck him like a stallion. As soon as Nick was well lodged, Tom, who had smeared some lube on his own prick, treated the batter’s ass to a similar invasion. The three were soon locked in a powerful, ceaseless rhythm, the two boys moaning endearments to one another, and the hypnotist murmuring continuous lewd suggestion, maintaining his total physical and mental control of them. Finally, after a long grunting, squishy period, Tom commanded Nick to cum, and he immediately went rigid with orgasm, screaming, “Robby, Robby, Robbeee!!” At virtually the same time, Rob had another load of cum fucked out of him, his twitching cock sliming their bellies.

The hypnotist withdrew from Nick’s ass and climbed off the two spent boys. After cleaning his still-stiff prick, Tom returned to his subjects, who were cuddling lazily in a relaxed afterglow. “Rob… batter up!” and the pitcher was instantly transfixed. “Nick… designated hitter!” and the sexy young Greek was likewise immobile and spellbound.

At Tom’s command, moving like robots or zombies, they knelt naked side by side before him. “You will continue to make out with your boyfriend, kissing and licking, but you must keep my dick between your mouths. You will capture it between your kisses, you will tongue it together, and you will suck it in turn, never stopping your love-making.” And the hypnotist’s aching cock was forthwith lapped and kissed, rubbed across perfectly formed noses and cheeks, swallowed by one will-less mouth and then another, and mashed between two sets of tender lips, as the two spellbound ballplayers made out like teens at a drive-in. Tom’s pleasure went nova, almost past bearing, so he released himself from his self-hypnotic restraint, and came all over the two handsome, oblivious faces. Rob and Nick just went on kissing and licking, smearing the hypnotist’s cum all around, lost in each other and their ever-deepening trances.

After Tom recovered himself, he fetched a towel and cleaned off his love-puppets, still wrapped in each other’s arms, but now, by his command, motionless and deeply asleep. He made sure to leave enough cum slicked around their mouths and nostrils to provide a rich, sexy aroma for them to inhale when they were awakened. Then he commenced their final programming.

“You are no longer sixteen years old. You, Nick, are twenty-one, and you, Rob, are twenty, just as you were. But you will always remember how you were at sixteen; how you fell helplessly, passionately, head-over-heels in love with your best friend, and how you made love for the first time. This you will remember vividly, because when you awaken, you will still and always be just as much in love. Neither of you will ever love anyone else as much as you, Rob, love Nick, and you, Nick, love Rob. And, of course, you will be happy to share your acts of physical intimacy with me any time I wish you to. You can’t refuse, can you?”

Both heads nodded in agreement. Neither boy had the slightest remnant of free will remaining. They would obey in all things.

“Nick, please repeat for me your trigger phrase.”

“Designated hitter,” the batter droned, going instantly deeper into trance.

“And yours, Rob.”

“Batter up!” came the drowsy response, as the pitcher, too, drifted helplessly deeper.

“These trigger phrases will remain in effect. Although you will continue to have no conscious knowledge of the fact, whenever you hear me say your trigger phrase, you will be immediately, and without any attempt to fight it, under deepest hypnosis. Now put on your clothes and get ready to leave.

The two young men mechanically began to reach for their scattered pieces of clothing, but the hypnotist intervened long enough to compel Rob to choose Nick’s turquoise bikini briefs, and Nick to don Rob’s silky white boxers. Each boy’s dick twitched in response to the touch of his lover’s underwear. When they were dressed, Tom continued, “You will have no memory of anything you have done while in trance (other than the wonderful memory of your teenage love affair). As a matter of fact, you don’t even remember that you have ever been hypnotized. Have you ever been hypnotized?”

Both young men dully intoned, “I’ve never been hypnotized,” in the most obviously hypnotized manner imaginable, continuing to stare blankly straight ahead.

“You won’t remember who I am, or where this house is. You won’t remember that you were ever here unless I call you and trigger your hypnotic obedience. However, under one set of circumstances you will be able to recall who I am and my phone number. From time to time you will have friends who might benefit from hypnosis. They may have problems with concentration and nerves, or they may simply wish to cure a bad habit such as smoking. In that case, you will remember me and recommend me to them, being as convincing as you can without becoming ridiculous. Then, after telling these friends about me, you will promptly forget again until the next time you have permission to remember. Please repeat those instructions.” They did.

“These friends of yours whom you will tell about me, they must be young men with handsome faces and bodies, as young and handsome as yours; only these and no others. Do you understand?”

“I understand: only good-looking guys,” chanted the two zoned-out jocks, in unison.

“Very well, kiss each other again, and don’t stop until I give you permission.” When Rob and Nick were again clinched in an embrace, their lips locked together, Tom said, “When I count to three, you’ll be awake and in your normal consciousness, aware of nothing but the intense pleasure you feel in being with this man you have loved with all your heart since high school. One… two… three.”

Nick and Rob finished their kiss with luxuriously sensuous thoroughness, and then drifted out of the house, arms still around each other. They broke their embrace, got into their cars, and drove away, probably, Tom thought, to continue their love-making. He wondered how professional baseball would deal with two superstars (and with his programming, he was sure they would be) who were out, and madly in love with each other. Tom chuckled, “Sports Illustrated will never be the same!”

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