Disclaimer: No one under 18 years old (or the corresponding legal age in their community) may read this. No one who objects to the topics of hypnotism and male/male sexual activity should read this. All characters are fictional, so any resemblance to actual persons is coincidental only. I like to read these fantasies as well as write them, and lately there have been some excellent new authors. Keep up the good work, buddies! And those of you who have only read (so far) please try your hand at writing.

Cooper’s Inner Child

(Sequel to “Hypnotized by Proxy”)

by

Hyptrance

When the phone rang, Melinda Thompson swore mildly under her breath. Saturday was the only day she ever found time to indulge her favorite hobby of gourmet cooking, and she was, at that moment, knuckle-deep in bread dough. “Coop, could you get that?” she hollered.

“Sure thing, Hon,” he yelled back from the study where he was doing some paperwork. Handsome Cooper Thompson picked up the receiver before a fourth ring could transfer the call to voice-mail. “Thompson’s. This is Coop.”

“The Mr. Cooper Thompson of _________ Industries?”

“Yes.” Cooper was a little annoyed. He hated business calls at home. But there was something about the voice that made him feel he should pay attention; it was even somehow familiar, although he couldn’t quite place it.

“Can this conversation be overheard?”

Now Coop was actually intrigued. Was he going to be propositioned for some kind of industrial espionage? “Let’s see where this is going,” he thought. “No, I’m in a room by myself.”

Then the voice said, “Marco…” and Cooper distantly heard his own voice answer as in a dream, “Polo.” He was instantly focused on the voice to the total exclusion of all other sounds, of everything including his own thoughts, focused with a single-minded intensity he had only achieved once before, at a party two weeks ago at the home of his boss. His eyes were heavy, almost closing, as he plunged helplessly into deep trance.

“You remember how good it feels to be hypnotized, don’t you, Cooper? So relaxed… so peaceful… always going deeper and deeper. You’re deeply hypnotized now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Coop murmured, his voice sounding very young and vulnerable.

“This is what you will do…” said Tom LeBlanc.

“Who was that, Coop?” Melinda asked as Cooper came up behind her and put his arms around her slender waist. He kissed the back of her neck, and she managed a return peck, even though her hands were still occupied with the dough she was kneading.

“Oh, just some damned telemarketer. You’d think they’d at least take the weekend off! By the way, I forgot to tell you earlier, but Jay invited me to play tennis over at the university this afternoon, so I’m heading out now.”

“Okay, Dear, have fun. Just don’t let that gung-ho little brother of yours talk you into extra sets. I want you home for dinner. I bought salmon steaks and they won’t keep. If Jay’s free, you can invite him to come back with you. There’ll be enough for three.”

“Six o’clock at the latest, I promise,” he said, giving her the Boy Scout salute. Then he trotted upstairs, whistling, to pack his sports bag. Instead of donning tennis clothes, however, he quickly put on an old, rather baggy pair of jeans that nearly slid off his slim hips, and a baseball sweatshirt he probably hadn’t worn since college, finishing off by clapping a baseball cap onto his neatly styled brown hair. It never entered Cooper’s head that this was not really appropriate gear for either tennis or for his age (30) and status (rising young executive), nor that the high-tech basketball shoes he was wearing, which made his feet look large and accented the youthful coltishness of the appearance he was now projecting, were definitely not designed for racket sports. These clothes just somehow seemed like the right ones, and he put them on without a second thought. If Melinda had seen him, transformed into a gangly teenager, she would certainly have said something, but Coop went down the back stairs towards the garage, so she missed viewing her husband in his curious ensemble. He got into his car and drove away.

As Cooper pulled up at the first traffic signal after leaving the expensive subdivision where he lived, he blinked a couple of times as though waking up. Instead of turning right towards the university, he turned left and got on the freeway. In Cooper’s mind (although he had no awareness of it) a number of radical changes had been made, triggered by that stoplight. The successful young executive had vanished, and in his place was the teenager that went with the clothing, the teenager Coop had been. Cooper was suddenly himself at eighteen, bursting with hormones, high-school BMOC. His dad had let him take the cool car for once, and he was on his way to pick up his good buddy Tommy. They were going to shoot hoops in the park, or else maybe just drive around showing off the ride and cruising chicks. His healthy young body wriggled with pleasure. It was the recipe for a perfect Saturday afternoon.

Coop pulled up at Tom LeBlanc’s house with just a little bit of brake-squeal for the machismo of it. Tommy (Tom, also dressed as a teenager and loving it) came out to the car, but didn’t get in. Cooper said, “C’mon, Tommy, haul it! We’re burning daylight.”

Tom contrived to look crestfallen. “Bad news, dude. Mom had to go out for the rest of the afternoon, and she’s expecting an important delivery from her office. I have to stay here to sign for it.”

“Aw, dude, that’s so lame!” Cooper exclaimed.

“Tell me about it! Your dad finally lets you behind the wheel of that studmobile, and I’m as good as grounded. It sucks!” Tom realized that he was probably overacting, but he was having too much fun to tone it down, and besides, Cooper’s critical faculties were currently off-line due to the trance he was in.

“Maybe it’ll get here before much longer,” Coop said hopefully.

“Yeah.” Tom sounded doubtful. “Well, at least I was able to sneak us a couple of beers. Why don’t you come on in and we can see if there’s anything on the tube while we wait. Cooper followed him into the house, and soon they were slouched companionably before the television set, drinking beer, chatting, and channel surfing. However, the great wasteland of afternoon TV proved to be just that. Finally Tom clicked the off button sighing, “Boring!”

They continued to shoot the breeze, but Cooper soon began to fidget. “What else have you got to do around here?” he asked.

Tom pretended to consider. “Well, my cousin showed me how to do something pretty cool, if you’re game to try.”

Cooper spluttered with mirth. “Dude, it sounds like you’re gonna suggest a circle-jerk!”

“No, you dufus! I’m talking about hypnotism. My cousin Michelle (you know, the one you have the hots for) showed me how to do it. It’s kind of weird, but when she did it to me, it felt great. You want to check it out?”

Coop looked interested, but scoffed, “No way you could hypnotize me!”

Tom smiled wickedly. “Care to make that a wager?”

Now Cooper felt like he couldn’t back down. “Okay, a wager. If you’re able to hypnotize me… um… I’ll let you take a test drive in my old man’s Porsche. And if you can’t… then you have to get me a date with Michelle!” He smirked triumphantly. “I wouldn’t mind being in her power.”

“Done. But you have to play this straight or all bets are off,” said Tom, meanwhile thinking, “This is like shooting fish in a barrel.” The hypnotist hadn’t programmed any particular responses into Cooper over the phone, mainly due to lack of time, other than to compel him to present himself at Tom’s place (and concoct a cover story for his wife), and to set the stoplight trigger for his age regression, but he had gambled that he could manipulate the teenage Coop into the position he wanted. Since Cooper had accepted without a struggle both the wager and the suggested, but of course non-existent cousin Michelle, Tom’s gamble was paying off. He could continue his role-playing seduction game a little while longer.

“First, let’s try a couple of tests, just for you to get a feel of it,” said Tom pleasantly. “Close your eyes and hold your hands out in front of you, palms up.” After casting one last, somewhat dubious glance at the hypnotist, Coop complied. Tom then suggested that Cooper’s right hand was tied to a bunch of helium-filled balloons raising it into the air, while his left was holding a copy of an unabridged dictionary forcing it down. Since the young man was already hypnotized, even if he didn’t realize it, his hands quickly drifted in the suggested directions until they were quite a distance apart. Then Tom said, “Open your eyes, Coop.”

“Wo, dude, that’s awesome.” But Cooper’s delivery wasn’t as excited as his words. As a matter of fact, his voice had already taken on a soft, very sleepy, mechanical quality, and his handsome face was looking blanker and more innocently helpless by the moment.

“Come over to the computer with me,” said the hypnotist, and he took Cooper’s left wrist. Docilely Coop allowed himself to be led, apparently not even noticing how his right hand still floated in the air. Tom seated him in front of the computer screen, double-clicked an icon, and a pre-programmed hypno-spiral sprang to life. “Michelle left this in my files. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? And very relaxing to look at… very relaxing… very relaxing…”

“Very relaxing…” echoed Coop, not even aware that he’d spoken.

Tom smiled to himself. “Let yourself float right into the fascinating center of the beautiful, relaxing spiral… floating and relaxing… floating and relaxing… into the center… You can’t resist. Your mind and your body must let go… must relax and drift… relax and drift… into deep sleep… into deep, deep hypnosis… into the center… into the center… the center…”

“Mus’ floa’… ’nto th’center… sleepy…” Again, Cooper spoke without volition, as though making a mental not of something important to remember. His heavy-lidded eyes were fixed helplessly on the screen, and, other than his right hand, still suspended effortlessly in mid air, his body had slumped completely limp in the chair, his neck barely holding up his sagging head sufficiently to maintain his locked gaze on the spiral.

Tom stroked the back of Cooper’s neck gently and said, “Close your eyes and sleep.” Coop’s eyes slid shut and his head fell forward onto his chest. His boyish face, now totally devoid of animation or personality, truly could have belonged to an innocent teen. The hypnotist lowered Cooper’s floating right hand, instructing him to relax even deeper. Tom had used this kind of technique before on a few occasions with true virtuoso trance subjects. He now had, in a sense, doubly hypnotized the extremely suggestible Cooper. First, the handsome young executive had been hypnotically convinced that he was a teenager (and accepted the role with absolute commitment). Then the “teenager” had been convinced that he was deeply entranced. The potential for manipulation was nearly unlimited.

“You hear only my voice,” Tom commanded, “And what you hear, you will obey. What you hear, you will obey.”

“Hear… ’bey…” Cooper murmured tonelessly.

“You are floating in the center of the spiral. Your mind, your thoughts, everything you are is drifting and floating… drifting and floating… You cannot leave the beautiful spiral until I call you back from it. But your body, Coop’s body, will come with me and do whatever I tell it to do, and from your peaceful spiral, you won’t even be aware of it. You will know nothing about it, nothing at all. And every moment you will continue to go deeper and deeper into your trance.”

“Know…. nothin’….. Dee-e-perrr…..” Cooper’s mesmerized voice ran down like a machine without power. Although it is nearly impossible to calibrate such things, Tom thought that this incredibly susceptible young man was possibly in the deepest trance state he had ever managed to induce.

“Stand up, open your eyes, and come with me.” Cooper rose unsteadily to his feet, his eyes now open, but with a fixed, uncomprehending, “nobody home” stare that proclaimed his total enslavement, and Tom enjoyed the firm warmth of his victim’s body as, arms around Coop’s muscular shoulders, he half led, half dragged him over to the couch. The hypnotist turned the baseball cap backwards on Cooper’s head. He didn’t want the bill to get in the way. “You are very turned on. You need to kiss,” Tom whispered. Gently he pulled Coop’s handsome face toward his own. The kiss was amazing. The contrast of the sandpapery stubble (apparently Cooper hadn’t shaved that morning, although his beard, lighter in color than his honey brown hair, wasn’t particularly visible) with the incredible softness of the young man’s lips, combined with the tenderness of his technique, had the hypnotist almost instantly hard and dripping in his pants. Coop’s mouth tasted faintly of mint mouthwash and sleep, young, fresh, and utterly erotic as his tongue played delicately with Tom’s. Cooper maintained his lip-lock on the hypnotist until Tom was finally forced to push him softly away, and even then, his lips and tongue continued to seek. He stopped only after Tom ordered him to.

“You like to drive, don’t you, Coop?”

“Yes…”

“You’re driving your dad’s car now. The weather is perfect, the highway is deserted so you can drive as fast as you want, and I’m next to you, so that you still hear everything I say and obey it absolutely.” Cooper’s hands had risen to grasp the imaginary wheel. His eyes remained fixed on the road only he could see. From time to time he reached down to shift non-existent gears, his feet and legs flexing as he controlled phantom clutch, brake, and gas. However, his handsome young face remained utterly empty. Now, more than ever, he truly looked the part of the hypnotized teenager, like a volunteer stage subject whose perception of reality had been completely controlled by the hypnotist for the amusement of an audience, now acting out whatever action was suggested, with total conviction. “You love the feeling of driving. No matter what happens, you won’t be able to stop, unless I tell you to,” Tom continued, as Coop began to smile in a vacant, mindless way. “As a matter of fact, you love it so much that it’s giving you a hard-on. Driving that Porsche is turning you on sexually.” Loose-fitting though his jeans were, Cooper’s fly began to tent perceptibly. “I’m going to open up your fly, take out your cock, and do you. Even though you wouldn’t normally let me give you a blow- or hand-job, you won’t be able to prevent it now, because you don’t want to stop, you can’t stop, driving. You can’t let go of the steering wheel except to shift. And soon you’ll be glad you couldn’t stop me, because you’ll discover that my getting you off behind the wheel of a Porsche will be the hottest sexual experience you’ve ever felt.” Tom put his hand between Cooper’s legs and caressed his crotch.

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing?!” Coop’s voice sounded some tiny degree less vague as his natural instincts for play-acting took over. However, his hands couldn’t drop from their steering wheel positions, nor could his feet leave off operating the pedals, and his face retained its goofy, mesmerized smile, eyes still fixed.

“Pretty obvious, dude,” Tom (as Tommy) answered, unzipping Cooper’s jeans. “Now keep on driving or you’ll crash us.” The hypnotist undid the top button and spread the jeans open as wide as they would go. Then he scooped down the waistband of Coop’s boxers to release his cock and balls. Tom barely restrained a whistle of amazement at the size of the young executive’s erection. Coop might have had the face of a teenager, but he was all fully mature macho stud below the waist. Tom guessed Cooper’s cock must be almost ten inches, rock-hard as it was now, and, if not as big around as the proverbial beer can, it was still massive enough to make him reconsider his original plan to suck it. Hell, he’d dislocate his jaw! Coop’s wife must feel like she’d married a bear! Tom drooled as much saliva as he could into the palm of his hand and then began to milk Cooper with his slicked fist. He leaned down to take just the head into his mouth and lick it. God, Coop smelled and tasted good! The hypnotist went to work on his hypnotized toy in earnest, as Coop continued to drive, his hips writhing in helpless pleasure.

“Dude! Uh-h-h… Oh God, that’s so… uh-h-h… Tommy, you gotta stop! I… I… I’m gonna… uh-h-h… uh-h-h… UH-H-H!” Cooper shot like a geyser. Creamy, ropy cum was in Tom’s mouth, on his face and hands, all over the front of Coop’s boxers. The room was filled with the delicious, musky odor.

The hypnotist licked up as much of the bounty as he could, and then said, “Coop, pull over into this secluded rest area and stop the car.” Cooper obediently pantomimed as ordered, then simply sat, hands frozen in position in front of him, eyes unfocused from trance and orgasm, mindlessly awaiting further instructions. “You’re able to move your hands again,” Tom said, and Coop’s hands fell from their “ten and two” position to lie limply in his damp lap. “You got cum on my face, dude. Lick and kiss it off, and eat as much as you can. You love it.” The mesmerized hunk didn’t change expression as, with lips and tongue, he hoovered his way over the hypnotist’s face. Then he sat back licking his lips reflectively, as though evaluating the flavor.

“That tasted so good it’s left you thirsty for more… very thirsty. You’ve gotta have more cum! And since you just shot your wad, the only remaining source here is me. Go for it, dude. Suck me.” Tom grinned and hauled out his own cock.

To give Cooper’s heterosexuality some credit, he didn’t instantly go down on the hypnotist. There was an observable moment of resistance before the hypnotic compulsion overcame him. His tongue darted nervously across his suddenly parched lips, and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he tried to control himself. But the twitching of his body gradually conquered him until, almost as though he were being forcibly pushed, he bent over Tom’s lap and his watering mouth engulfed the waiting erection. Once having lost the battle against the hypnotist’s coercion, however, Coop no longer struggled. His head bobbed eagerly up and down on the rigid shaft, lips and tongue doing their suctioning best to draw forth the longed-for treat, and he fondled Tom’s balls and thighs for greater stimulation. The hypnotist, who had been nearly ready to explode for some time already, didn’t manage to last long under the onslaught. Feeling as though Cooper were practically turning him inside out, Tom erupted like Vesuvius. The spellbound young man swallowed as much of the flood as he could, and then greedily went after every drop of the overflow, lapping and nuzzling at the hypnotist’s crotch until Tom was forced from sheer sensory overload to order him off. Coop sat back up, once again the blankly obedient automaton, waiting with mindless patience for his master’s next command.

After his wits returned to him, Tom set about cleaning up. However, one glance at Cooper’s cum drenched boxers and damp fly was enough to make him realize that he couldn’t send the guy home to his wife that way. A blind woman would notice! Tom checked his watch and was relieved to see that there was enough time for a quick wash and dry of the soiled clothing. “Coop,” he said, “We’re back at my house, at Tommy’s house. Take off everything you’re wearing below the waist and give it to me.” Cooper pulled off his shoes and socks, solemnly handing them to Tom. Then he stood and skinned out of his jeans and boxers. “Now sleep,” said the hypnotist, scooped them up from the floor, and trotted to his laundry room. When he got back to the living room after starting the load, his hypnotized victim, in absence of further suggestions, was still standing just where he had left him. Tom thought that he looked almost unbearably appealing. Cooper’s boyish face relaxed and expressionless in sleep, the baseball cap backwards on his head, the baseball jersey, were the picture of the innocent, hypno-enslaved teen he believed himself to be, while his strong masculine legs, and his perfectly firm little ass, not to mention that horsecock, all helplessly on display below, created as erotic a picture as the hypnotist could ever recall seeing. It would be about an hour before the clothes were dry, and Tom felt inspired.

He resumed his role as Tommy. “Dude, I’ve put you deep into hypnosis, and when I wake you up, your gonna know that, although you won’t remember anything that we did. You’re gonna feel fine, and very impressed with my powers. And, at any time, if I tell you to do something and I say the word ‘puppet’ after, you will do whatever it is I told you to, whether you want to or not. You won’t be able to resist even though, technically, you won’t be in the trance I put you in any longer. And you won’t be able to retaliate or harm your old buddy Tommy. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh,” spoken very sleepily.

Tom was hoping that, when he terminated Coop’s secondary trance, that Cooper would still be hypnotized into thinking he was the teenage Coop, but he had the ‘Marco-Polo’ trigger ready, if it didn’t turn out that way. “Coop, when I touch your shoulder, you’ll come back from the spiral, come out of this trance, and everything will be just like I told you.” The hypnotist took Cooper’s shoulder and shook it gently, saying, “Wake up, dude.”

“Wha… Who…?” Cooper’s eyes fluttered open and he looked around in confusion. Then he began to grin. “Dude, you did it! You hypnotized me! That’s so-o-o cool!! I can’t believe it. One minute I’m lookin’ at the computer and the next… out like a light and I can’t remember a fuckin’ thing about it. You’re awesome, Tommy!” As Coop bubbled enthusiastically, Tom was pleased to note that the young executive was still calling him Tommy and still using teenage speech patterns. The original hypnotic trance was intact. The hypnotist was also amused that Cooper hadn’t yet realized that he was naked from the waist down. That changed in the next instant as Cooper finally looked down. “JEEZ, DUDE, WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY PANTS?!!!” He dove behind the couch.

“Dude!” Tom(my) chuckled. “Come out from behind there and sit back down on the couch, puppet.”

Beet-red, but unable to help himself, Cooper came around the couch and sat. Self-consciously, he tried to cover his dick with his hands. “C’mon, Tommy, let me put my pants back on,” he begged.

“No way, dude. You look hot that way. And besides, you’re the one who opened the topic of circle-jerks. Now I want to see your technique. Show me how you jerk off, puppet.”

“Aw man, don’t make me do this,” Cooper moaned, as his hands obediently began to stroke his dick and manipulate his ball-sac. “It’s fuckin’ embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing; it’s sexy. You get off on knowing I’m watching you, puppet. Don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” said with another groan, but this time from passion rather than distress. Cooper was masturbating with much more enthusiasm now as he stared at Tom with lust-filled eyes. He could have been doing a solo segment of a stroke film.

“That looks like it would feel good… real good. I wouldn’t mind feeling what that’s like, myself. In fact, if I sit down there next to you, you’ll want to give me a hand job right along with your own, because that’ll turn you on even more. Won’t it?”

“Hell, no! I’m no fag!”

“Of course you aren’t, Coop. But nevertheless you are going to give me a hand job, and you will enjoy doing it, because as soon as I sit down, you won’t be able to stop yourself, puppet.” Tom quickly peeled off his jeans and underwear, and then walked very slowly towards Cooper, like a panther stalking prey. He fondled his cock to get it hard again, and all the while he held Coop’s shocked gaze, a feral grin on his face. In between groans of pleasure from the masturbation he was helpless to discontinue, Cooper begged “Tommy” not to turn him into a faggot. The hypnotist realized that, since the young man had been made to forget that he was already a cocksucker, he really thought he had something left to lose. Tom’s grin turned evil. “Ask to be allowed to touch my cock, puppet. Ask nicely.”

The hypnotist thought it was possibly the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Coop’s role-playing talents were amazing. He sounded like a Boston Brahmin in the throes of sex trying to be discreet. He was moaning periodically as his busy hands sent waves of pleasure through his cock, and he had clenched his teeth and lips together to try to prevent the traitorous words from escaping his mouth.

“Ungh-h-h… mmmTommymmm… mmm… ungh… puh-please let mmmmme… ungh… mmmtuh… tuh… touch your mmmungh… ungh… mmmcah… caaah… cock.” By the time Cooper had finally gasped out the whole phrase he was panting from the strain, and his face was pale. He did not, however, stop milking his hard-on.

Tom was quite surprised, considering the absolute hold hypnosis had on Cooper, that the enormously suggestible young executive had been able to muster even that much resistance. “Well, since you ask so nicely…” he said, grinning like a crocodile, and sat down beside him. Immediately Coop’s left hand transferred itself to the hypnotist’s cock and began to stroke it efficiently in the exact tempo his right hand was maintaining on his own cock. Tom, realizing that this could quickly become uncomfortable without any lubrication, bent over his own lap and began to slobber as much spit as he could onto the young man’s rhythmically massaging hand. As had been the case previously, when Cooper finally lost his battle to resist the hypnotic compulsion, he also lost all further will to fight. His face blank and abstracted, focused only on his internal pleasure, he masturbated both himself and Tom placidly (or at least as placidly as is possible for a man rapidly approaching orgasm). Tom, reading the signals correctly, quickly said, “Doing us together is so much more fun than just doing yourself that you won’t be able to cum until I do, puppet.” Then he settled back to enjoy his helpless slave’s ministrations. Ahhh… Did it get any better than this?

Tom was able to delay his own orgasm quite a while (it being his second in a relatively short time). He used the time to feel up Cooper’s well-muscled chest (after first securing the young man’s helpless acquiescence), running his hands up underneath the baseball shirt to stroke the stud’s tits and tease his hard little nipples. He paused in his explorations only to spit fresh saliva on either Coop’s or his erection from time to time to keep them slick. Finally, however, even “thinking about baseball” (which only served to remind him how hot Cooper looked in his colorful jersey) no longer had the power to stave off Tom’s explosion. Before he lost speech control, the hypnotist managed to gasp out, “Cum now, puppet!” and Coop also shot his wad in howling ecstasy.

After they were cleaned up (courtesy of Tom’s eager tongue and Cooper’s unwillingly compelled one), Coop glowered. “That was fuckin’ mean, dude! You made me act like a cocksuckin’ faggot, you sick perv,” he growled.

“I suppose it was mean,” acknowledged the hypnotist, “But you’re not upset about it, puppet. Are you?”

“N- no.” Cooper’s expression had lightened immediately. He looked rather confused at the abrupt about-face his emotions had performed.

“Of course you aren’t.” Then, remembering how delightful the young man’s mouth had been, Tom added, “As a matter of fact, just to show there are no hard feelings, give me a long, slow, totally passionate, deeeep kiss, puppet.” Once again, in spite of himself, straight Cooper Thompson found his arms automatically wrapping themselves around the good-looking hypnotist, his body pressed as tightly as it could get against Tom’s hard body, and his mouth locked on the hypnotist’s, sucking tongue for all he was worth. Tom savored the kiss for as long as he could, and then, working his lips around to Cooper’s ear, whispered, “Marco.”

Coop automatically responded, “Polo…” his voice dying off into a sleepy mumble, even before he quite finished the second syllable. His arms fell from around the hypnotist, and his whole body relaxed back into the couch, as limp as a marionette with cut strings.

“Deep sleep,” Tom commanded. “Go deeper with every breath. Think nothing but going deeper and deeper to sleep until I talk to you next.” Then he went out to check the laundry. It was ready for the dryer, so he transferred it, and then returned to Cooper. The remaining half hour or so that it took Coop’s jeans and boxers to dry, the hypnotist spent in deepening the young executive’s already nearly fathomless trance. In addition, he found out a good deal of useful information about Coop’s friends, relations, and acquaintances, with an eye to scouting other potential trance slaves. After hearing about little brother Jay, the grad student at the university, whom Cooper, with absolute hypnotized honesty had described as even sexier than himself, Tom had a brainstorm. Cooper was such a gifted role-playing trance subject, adopting each suggested character with such consummate skill and conviction, that perhaps he could be persuaded to turn into an occasional hypnotist. He could recruit for Tom, much as Johnny Miller did. It would take a while to accomplish the training, but obtaining practice subjects would be easy enough; any of the hypnotist’s stable of slaves would be as unable to refuse to cooperate as Cooper would be helpless to refuse to entrance them. And then brother Jay, and Jay’s friends, and Melinda’s nephew Phil, and his friends, and the mailboy at Coop’s office, and his, and… Tom realized than he could soon become so busy he’d have to weed out all but the choicest, handsomest, most utterly controllable and hypnotizable boys, just to leave time for the rotation of newly enslaved faces and bodies. Oh well, that was easy enough with simple “forget” commands.

“Cooper, listen very carefully. Soon, I’ll send you back to your house. You will no longer be eighteen-year-old Coop, but, once again, thirty-year-old businessman Cooper Thompson, married to Melinda, living at ______________. You will not have any memory, now or ever, of what we did here today. You won’t remember being here at all. The only memories you’ll have of this afternoon are of playing tennis with your brother, just as you told your wife you would. It was a good match, although Jay won, and you feel tired but satisfied.”

“You will be compelled to talk to me at least twice a week on the phone, always from a place where our conversation can’t be overheard, and never long distance. As before, whenever I say ‘Marco’…”

“Polo…” mumbled Cooper.

“Yes, that’s right. You’ll say ‘polo’, and go instantly into your deepest possible trance. In addition to talking to me often, you’re going to arrange times to meet with me to be trained as a hypnotist. You will find that you’re fascinated, even obsessed with the idea, and you’ll be as inventive as you can be at finding opportunities for us to get together that won’t make your wife suspicious. Perhaps we can become ‘racket-ball buddies’, or I could be a new client – whatever she will believe most easily, but no matter what it requires, you will be compelled to come study hypnotism with me, and to practice it on whomever I tell you to.” Tom figured that, once Cooper had become a reasonably proficient hypnotist, Melinda wouldn’t be a problem any longer. After all, wives can be hypnotized too. “Now, repeat these important instructions so that I can be sure you understand them correctly.”

Cooper robotically delivered an accurate summary of the orders he had received, and Tom sent him back to sleep. The clothes were dry, so the hypnotist ordered his slave to finish dressing, which he did, eyes closed, with a somnambulistic clumsiness the hypnotist found so erotic he almost started the whole seduction over again. However, a quick check of his watch showed him that he had to let Cooper go home, or else risk Melinda investigating and discovering that her husband was not with his little brother after all. Tom led Cooper, clothing properly reassembled, back out to his Porsche, and sent him on his way, his susceptible mind wiped blank. The young executive drove carefully home, reawakening only as he pulled into his driveway, with no sense whatsoever of how his afternoon had really been spent. He was in time for dinner.

When she saw him walk in, Melinda almost choked. “What happened?” she giggled, “Lose a bet?”

Cooper looked mystified for a second, then, following her merry gaze, looked down at his odd costume. His mind, programmed to hide the truth from her, immediately supplied a rationalization. “Sort of. After the last set, I sat down on one of the benches for a quick breather. They must have just applied fresh sealant. Anyway, it totaled my tennis clothes, and this gear is what Jay loaned me so I wouldn’t ruin the seats in the Porsche driving home. The hat’s because I lost the match. Jay made me add it to the rest of the stuff just so I’d look like a complete fool. Fortunately, you’re the only person I know who’s seen me!”

By this point, Melinda was laughing so hard she could barely stand. “You’d better go upstairs and change before I hurt myself,” she gasped.

Later that night, as she passed by the closed door to the study, Melinda thought she overheard Cooper on the phone say “polo”. “Odd,” she thought. “God, I hope he isn’t planning to take that up! It’s too dangerous, and too expensive, and too... too… well, ridiculous!” She continued past and on up the stairs, already planning arguments to talk her husband out of playing polo in case that was what he had in mind. She had a sudden, brief flash of her handsome Cooper under hypnosis at his boss’ party. Coop had been a terrific subject, she recalled. It was a little scary how easily, how totally, he had obeyed the suggestions. Maybe, if he wouldn’t listen to reason, she’d get the hypnotist’s name from Carl Sturdevant and have Coop hypnotized out of the idea of playing polo. Melinda smiled to herself for being silly. Maybe she’d get the hypnotist to program Coop to love housework at the same time. Yeah, that could work.

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