Disclaimer: The usual rules apply: no one under legal age, no one finding erotic hypnotism or gay sex offensive, and no one who can’t divorce fiction (which this emphatically is) from reality. The rest of you, enjoy with my compliments this long-delayed follow-up to “Cooper’s Inner Child”.
(a Tom LeBlanc story)
by
“Thompson.” Cooper Thompson had answered the phone on the second ring. It was his secretary’s lunch hour, but he’d remained at his desk working, and, even though he was a rising young executive, he’d never been one to stand on ceremony.
“Marco…” said Tom LeBlanc.
“Polo.” And just that quickly Cooper was under deep hypnosis.
“Are you alone in the room, Coop?” Had Cooper been with a client or co-worker, chances are he would not have picked up the phone in the first place, and the young man was so practiced at functioning in trance by this time, that, even if someone had been looking on, they probably wouldn’t have noticed the difference, but the hypnotist always checked.
“Yes.”
“These are your instructions…” Tom was particularly pleased to be back home again and able to pursue his plans. He knew that he’d given Cooper enough training to be ready to hypnotize somebody for some time. It was time to unleash him and see just how well his amazing deep-trance ability to become a new character would serve in the role of a modern-day Svengali.
“Hey, Joey, got a minute?”
Joey Kaminsky, the cute, energetic nineteen-year-old mail/office-boy, had just finished the last of his noon-hour deliveries and was on his way to lunch-break. “Sure thing, Coop.” Joey was always happy to oblige Cooper, whom he admired greatly, not only because of Cooper’s meteoric rise in the business, but also for the blessed lack of stuffing in his shirt. (With anyone else in the company it would have had to be “Mr. Thompson” or “Sir”.) “What can I do for you?” He came into the office to stand in front of Cooper’s desk, the contrast of his A&F inspired attire to Cooper’s Armani suit, white shirt and power tie making him seem even younger and more puppyish.
“It’s this digital-art paperweight somebody sent me. It’s supposed to be a 3-D optical illusion, but I don’t see it. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something the matter with my eyes. Would you mind taking a look?” Cooper pointed to a small upright framed display-screen on his desk, on which a bright turquoise and black spiral pattern was spinning dizzily.
“Wow, cool!” Joey dutifully looked at it more closely, his eyes already finding themselves drawn towards the center of the display. “What’s it supposed to do as 3-D?”
“If you look at it long enough, it’s supposed to form a tunnel effect, like you’re floating into the middle of it.” Cooper, of course, was in deep trance and following Tom’s instructions, but Joey, although intelligent, was also rather naïve, and apparently neither noticed nor suspected a thing. He continued to stare trustingly at the hypno-disc, narrowing his eyes in concentration.
“No, don’t strain. You have to relax and just let it happen. Just relax…” Cooper’s voice became soothing and insinuating as he watched Joey’s eye’s widen again. The boy’s expression was already beginning to look a little vacant and abstracted, and his posture had eased noticeably. Still speaking soothing, hypnotic patter, Cooper slowly got up from his desk, moved a chair behind Joey, and gently assisted him into it. Joey’s eyes never left the spiral, and he was scarcely even blinking. He appeared to be unaware that he’d sat down. Cooper continued the induction, and it was little more than five minutes later that he was able to say, “You’re eyes are so heavy and tired that you have to close them. Close your eyes and sleep, Joey.” He watched with hypnotized satisfaction as the handsome blond mail-boy gave up the struggle and slumped in his chair, head falling limply forward, fast asleep and helpless. Judging that he had less than a half an hour before his secretary would return, Cooper immediately began tests and deepening exercises. To his relief, Joey passed them all with flying colors. The mail-boy was apparently a very good subject. When he was certain he had him deep enough, Cooper said, “From now on, whenever you hear the phrase ‘sleepy mail-boy’, you will instantly return to this state of deep hypnosis and follow without question whatever instructions I give you. Repeat the phrase that sends you into hypnosis.”
“S-sleepy mail-boy…” Joey’s voice trailed off.
“That’s right, sleepy mail-boy. You will call a hypnotist named Tom LeBlanc at ___-____. You’ll identify yourself to him as ‘Joey Kaminsky, Cooper’s sleepy mail-boy’ and make an appointment to be hypnotized. Once there, you will find it impossible to resist going into a very deep trance for him. You can rationalize this to yourself in any way you wish, but you’ll be careful not to mention your appointment to anyone else.” Cooper had the boy repeat the instructions to be sure he understood. Then he finished up, “I’m going to count to three, and you’ll wake up again, with no memory of anything that has happened since you began to look at the spiral. You’ll be certain you only looked at it a little while, and failed to see the optical illusion. One, two, and three.”
Joey blinked and shook himself slightly. “Sorry, Coop, but it’s just not happening. Either there’s something the matter with the thing, or somebody’s pulling your leg. Well, gotta go,” and he breezed out the office door. Five minutes later, Coop’s secretary came back from lunch, and her return roused Cooper from his trance state, as unaware as Joey of what had transpired.
Tom answered the phone and heard an appealing young male voice ask, “Tom LeBlanc, the hypnotist?”
“Yes, this is Tom. How may I help you?”
“This is Joey Kaminsky, Cooper’s sleepy mail-boy, and I need to make an appointment to be hypnotized…”
Cooper’s brother Jay proved a little trickier to bag. It wasn’t that Coop had any difficulty with access. The two brothers had frequent tennis dates, and Jay came over to dinner on a fairly regular basis as well. The trick was meeting him in a place where hypnotism could be attempted. Tennis hardly qualified, and dinners with Cooper were also with his wife. Melinda was, by now, capable of being hypnotically maneuvered. (She’d allowed her husband to practice on her once, and once was all it took.) But Cooper could hardly trance her out of the picture while Jay was still wide awake, and vice versa. Joey had already been enslaved for more than three weeks, and Coop’s post-hypnotic compulsions from Tom were starting to stress him a little, before an opportunity finally arose. Melinda had been sent out of town to deal with an emergency in one of the satellites of her company, and Cooper took advantage of her absence to arrange a little “boys’ night in” with pizza, beer, and poker. He invited Jay, Joey, Melinda’s nephew Phil (also one of his “assignments”), and Tom, who was somewhat surprised at the invitation, but immediately accepted, seeing the evening’s potential.
When the hypnotist arrived, Coop looked sexy, as usual, in casual slacks and a form-revealing polo shirt. Tom had him back in trance almost before he closed the door. As the rest of the young men assembled, Tom was delighted to see that Cooper’s descriptions of their attractiveness were, if anything, understated. Joey, whom he had already met (and conquered), was outrageously cute. In his artfully distressed jeans and A&F sweatshirt, he was bursting with energy, charm, and sex appeal. Jay, turned out to be a junior (only 23) version of Cooper himself (including the clothes), but where Coop had the impressiveness of the grown man (although still retaining some of his youthful qualities), his little brother was still mostly boyish, and he was also, there was no other word for it, beautiful. His hair was a little darker than Cooper’s, and a bit shorter; and his eyes were darker as well, and fringed by lashes that would have been the envy of a fashion model. Finally Phil, just barely eighteen, with black hair and deep olive eyes just like his Aunt Melinda’s, not very tall, but perfectly proportioned, was a Greek vision, and, in spite of the baggy cargo shorts and tank-top he wore, lovely as a classical statue.
Phil was also cocky as only a handsome, athletic teenager can be! The subject of hypnotism came up immediately, of course, since no one besides Cooper knew Tom (except for Joey, who didn’t remember that he knew the hypnotist), so introductions had to include brief explanations of who Tom was, and why Coop was acquainted with him. Phil fell into the trap almost instantly. “Hypnotist?” he chortled, “Uncle Coop, a hypnotist?!!” He stretched his arms out in front of himself in a classic somnambulist pose. “Command me, oh master of the evil eye!” Then he practically fell all over himself laughing at his own clowning.
Cooper pretended to be severe, although he had a hard time keeping his face straight. “I wouldn’t have a smart little snot like you for a slave, Phil. I’ll leave that to Tom.”
Predictably, Phil took that as something of a challenge. “He couldn’t hypnotize me anyway, unless I let him,” he bragged.
“Of course not,” Tom lied smoothly. “I wouldn’t even try. Shake on it,” and he offered the boy his hand. Naïvely, Phil reached out to accept the proffered handshake, and suddenly found himself staring at his own palm, his mind scrambling to deal with the confusion, as the hypnotist artfully intercepted the motion. Tom had him where he wanted him, and in less than a minute the cocky teen was under his control.
Now Cooper did laugh. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen, eh, Phil?” His nephew didn’t respond, of course. He was standing motionless, eyes closed, his world narrowed down to Tom’s voice.
The sound of Coop’s voice did seem to release Joey and Jay from their fascinated silence. On top of Joey’s, “Far out!” Jay asked, “Is he really hypnotized, Mr. LeBlanc?”
“Please call me Tom, and yes, he really is. If you all will give me a moment, we can have some fun with him later on in the poker game.” Tom spoke softly to Phil for a while, deepening his trance, and installing a trigger phrase: “sleepy brat” (which made both Cooper and Jay snicker). Then he said, “When I wake him up, he’s not going to know he went under. The rest of you have to keep the secret if you want this to work.” After receiving conspiratorial nods of agreement all round, the hypnotist completed the handshake he’d interrupted, and Phil returned to the here-and-now none the wiser about his little lost-time adventure.
Cooper cleared his throat and asked, “Well, if Phil isn’t game to be hypnotized, how about you, Jay? I have to defend my honor. Twenty bucks says I can have you barking like a dog before the pizza gets here… if you cooperate.”
Jay gave him a somewhat dry and dusty look, but, as Cooper knew very well, he couldn’t resist a bet. “You’re on, bro.”
Cooper had his brother lie down on the sofa. Then he went into his den and came out with a crystal pendulum on a thin chain in his hand.
Jay spluttered and started to sit back up. “You are kidding, right?”
“Lie back down, bro. You have to go along with it, or the bet’s off. Humor me.” He proceeded to dangle the crystal over Jay’s face, just a little above his easiest line of vision so that his eyes were drawn upwards, and set it spinning. The light refracted and bounced from it in a manner that was… well… fascinating. Jay soon found it no trouble at all to fix his gaze on the pendulum. He did as Cooper instructed, breathing deeply and evenly, methodically relaxing his muscles, until there was nothing in his enthralled mind but the crystal and his brother’s compelling words. Tom found himself impressed, both with the polish of hypnotized Coop’s delivery (he could have been a professional with years of experience), and with the speed and depth of Jay’s trance response. Evidently the capacity for deep hypnosis ran in the family. When the teenage kid who delivered the pizza arrived at Cooper’s door, he stood well away from it as it opened, because he could hear what seemed to be a very agitated (and, by the sound of it, large) dog going nuts in the next room!
“Okay, admit it. I won my bet.” Cooper had roused his brother (although not before administering a few more deepening suggestions including, with a wink to Joey and Tom that Phil wouldn’t have understood even if he’d noticed it, a trance trigger phrase for later exploitation: “Good dog”).
“I was hypnotized? Really? No shit! So that’s what it’s like. I don’t remember anything after I started to look at the crystal thingy.”
“Yeah,” Phil crowed, “You were out like a light. And you barked like a dog, too, just like Uncle Coop said you would. Man, you sounded like a pit bull on steroids. I thought the pizza guy was going to piss himself!” he laughed with delight.
“The pizza’s here? Well let’s hit it. I’m starving!” Jay bounced up from his seat on the couch. “And another brew, please, Mr. Mesmer, sir.” Cooper passed out more beers all around, and the five young men tucked into their dinner.
Sometime later, the pizza boxes had been cleared away, and they got down to serious poker. It was Tom’s deal, when Phil accidentally intercepted one of the raised-eyebrow glances that the other three men had been giving the hypnotist for some time. “What?” he said, somewhat pugnaciously.
“I think they’re wondering if it’s time yet,” said Tom.
“Time for what?”
“Your bedtime, sleepy brat.” The words were no sooner out of the hypnotist’s mouth than the cocky teen had pitched forward onto the table, deep asleep.
After the hoots and applause, Jay asked, “What are you going to make him do?”
“Don’t you mean, ‘What are we going to make you both do’, bro?” said Coop. “Good dog.” And Jay joined Phil in head-down hypnotized oblivion. Turning to Joey, Cooper added, “And while I’m at it, sleepy mail-boy.” Now there were three handsome, helpless young men slumped over the poker table, and only seconds later there were four, as Cooper, following Tom’s previous instructions, returned to a completely programmable mode now that his mission was accomplished.
“Cooper, you will now give me control of your hypnotic subjects,” Tom ordered.
Without changing his position, Coop muttered sleepily, “Joey… Jay… you must listen to Tom’s voice, and follow any instructions he gives you just as you follow mine. You can’t resist. You must obey him… must obey… must obey…”
Tom then went into his own set of trance-deepening, mind-fucking suggestions. Cooper and Joey had both already been subjected to them at least once, but repetition wouldn’t hurt, and Phil and Jay still needed to be trained into total mindless submission. After about a half an hour, though, they were as much at the hypnotist’s disposal as the two more experienced subjects. “Boys, sit up straight in your chairs and open your eyes, but remain completely hypnotized,” Tom said. They obeyed instantly. The hypnotist looked from one handsome, expressionless face to another, all of them waiting for him to make of them whatever he wanted. “We’re here to play poker,” he continued. “The name of the game is five-card draw strip poker. None of you is a good poker player, and you’ll all lose frequently, but you are all obsessed with playing the game – so obsessed that, when you run out of clothes, you’ll start betting with sexual favors, just to keep playing. But that will be just fine, because every time you remove a piece of your clothing, no matter how unimportant a one, you’re going to get horny, each item making you hornier and sexier-feeling than the last, until, when you have no more clothes to lose, you’ll be so turned on you’ll be happy to traffic in sex. And each time any of the other fellows loses a piece of clothing, it’ll make him seem more and more desirable to you. Naked guys are hot. Remember that. Naked guys are hot.” It took a few more repetitions and variations of all this before Tom was sure that there was no chance of resistance even from the two newbies. Then he snapped his fingers, animation returned to his entranced slaves, and the game began.
Unlike most friendly poker games, there was virtually no banter. The hypnotized young men were completely focused on what they were doing. Tom won the first hand, and all the rest lost their shoes. Phil lost his socks as well, having raised on a pair of nines. The hypnotist didn’t see any obvious signs that his program was being carried out, but there was a subtle undercurrent of increased sexual tension, and he thought he saw, from the corner of his eye, Jay sneaking a peek at Phil’s bare feet. The next hand, Phil won (Tom, after all, didn’t want to be fully clothed when the others were on high heat), Jay lost his socks, and Joey and Cooper both lost socks and shirts. When Joey pulled off his sweatshirt, Phil’s eyes locked on his smooth, naked chest like heat-seeking missiles. He licked his lips nervously, and shifted in his seat to try to relieve the pressure of the bulge growing in his pants. Joey, for his part, was toying, almost absent-mindedly, with one of his nipples. In the meantime, Jay was staring at his brother’s sculpted torso as though he wanted to burn the image onto his retinas. Tom, seated next to him, could see the throbbing tent at the fly of his slacks.
The play continued, the players growing more and more visibly aroused, and more and more overtly interested in each other’s rapidly increasing states of undress. By the time they were all more-or-less down to underwear, the four hypnotized young men were openly groping themselves (Tom, because he felt like it, the others, because they really had no choice), breathing hard, and ogling each other.
The last hand had become a showdown between Joey and Phil, the rest having folded. Everyone except the winner would be losing his shorts (the last remaining garments), but Phil needed to raise the bet. His mesmerized eyes locked on Joey’s, and he said huskily, “I raise you a blow-job.”
Joey’s free hand (the one not holding his cards) increased its action in his lap. He licked his lips and said, “I’ll see that blow-job,” and laid out his cards. He was the winner. With moans of passion, Jay, Phil, and Cooper pulled down the underwear to free their rigid, pulsing cocks, and Tom shucked his shorts as well. Although Joey’s white boxer-briefs were still in place, they had become so moist with his pre-cum that the area of the fly was virtually transparent, and his throbbing boner was no less on display than if it had been uncovered.
Tom put an end to the card game, and ordered the four obedient young men back to the living room. “Joey,” the hypnotist said, “Take off your shorts and sit on the couch.” As the boy obeyed, Tom turned to Phil. “Pay up, sleepy brat.” Like a wooden puppet on strings the handsome teen sleep-marched over to where Joey was seated and knelt between his legs. His eyes closed and he began to slide the mail-boy’s dick past his lips. Soon his head was bobbing up and down in a regular rhythm, his face as blank and unconcerned as though he did this sort of thing every day, and somewhere in his hypno-fucked mind, things were going just the way Tom would have wanted, because Phil’s juicy hard-on hadn’t relaxed even a fraction as he gave what was surely his first same-sex head. Joey, for his part, was so carried away by pleasure and hypnotic conditioning, that his helpless, foggy mind couldn’t even begin to worry about the sex of the owner of the mouth that was sucking on him like a vacuum attachment. He just moaned and thrashed (and humped to the extent that he could, although Tom’s last suggestion had had the unintended effect of fixing his ass in place on the couch). The hypnotist watched the action for a moment, absent-mindedly stroking his own erection. Then he said, “Joey, you’ll keep feeling better and better, but you won’t cum until I give you permission. Phil, you’ll cum when Joey does.”
“Yes, sir,” they said. (Well, actually only Joey said it. Phil’s response came out as just a filled-mouth mumble of assent.)
Tom then addressed Coop. “Hypnotist Cooper, I want you to use your skills to fuck your brother’s ass. Give me a good show.”
Cooper nodded, and said, “Good dog.” Jay was instantly a blank-faced, vacant-eyed statue. “Touch your cock, little bro. That’s right. Stroke it; make it feel good! Listen to my voice, and obey, and feel sexier and sexier.” By this time Jay was moaning as he helplessly complied with his brother’s suggestions. “Don’t cum yet,” Cooper hurriedly added, as he saw Jay’s ball-sac start to tighten. “Now, the sexy feelings in your cock are transferring to your hand… the good feelings going straight from your cock into your hand… your hand just as sexy and sensitive as the head of your cock… and you can’t tell which feels better now, your hand on your cock, or your cock in your hand, can you?”
“Nooooh,” Jay groaned lustfully.
Cooper continued, “Take your sexy hand off your cock and finger your asshole, bro.” His brother complied (a little stiffly, as his hand and cock seemed reluctant to part company). When Jay’s fingers were well engaged in frigging his butt, Coop repeated the process of transferring sexual sensation, this time from hand to ass. Soon his spellbound brother was finger-fucking himself with abandon. “That feels good, Jay… so good you could almost cum just from fingering your hole… almost, but not quite! You need release… need it bad, bro! The only thing that will get you off is your brother Cooper’s cock fucking your sexy, hot hole. You can’t cum unless I cum in your ass. Beg for it, you hypnotized little fucker!”
“C’mon, Coop, please! I’m so horny! You have to fuck me! Please! Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!!”
In spite of the urgency (and even the volume) of Jay’s response to that suggestion, it retained an automatic, programmed quality that Tom, listening with delight, found infinitely sexy. As the entranced Cooper Thompson began to give his thoroughly mind-controlled brother what he was helplessly demanding, Tom began to circulate through the room. “This is what I really love,” he thought, as he enjoyed the four young men, each artificially focused on and locked into his own particular role, unable to escape it. The hypnotist fondled here and there, kissed, licked and caressed, going from one boy to another. He masturbated Phil’s hard young cock as the boy continued to suck tirelessly, and licked the sweat from Joey’s smooth, heaving chest and ripped abdomen as the kid writhed under Phil’s ministrations. He teased Jay’s nipples and kissed his gasping mouth, and then sandwiched Cooper between them, nibbling the back of his neck, and rubbing his erection against Cooper’s hard, muscular butt as it flexed in Coop’s fuck-stroke.
Finally, when Tom couldn’t take any more foreplay, he made his choice: he’d have the cocky nephew. “Cum, Joey,” he ordered, and the hypnotized mail-boy screamed with relief as he was finally allowed to shoot his load into Phil’s busy mouth. At the first jet of boy-juice, Phil also (as he had been instructed to) began to orgasm. He came like a geyser, and at the same time lost control of his mouth action, so he ended up with splooge, his and Joey’s, all over his face and body. Tom quickly established the necessary suggestions to compel Phil to allow the hypnotist to harvest his ass cherry. As he fucked the sticky, fragrant, cum-drenched teen, Tom retained enough presence of mind (and verbal control) to command Cooper’s orgasm, watching with mounting arousal as Coop’s last few gasping, spasmodic thrusts also sent brother Jay over the edge to an explosion of jism. Then the hypnotist ordered Jay to disengage himself, and, still dripping Cooper’s cum from his ass-crack, the young man obediently began to tongue Tom’s balls as they slapped against Phil’s butt on each thrust. The combination of sensations was more than enough to finish the job, and the hypnotist’s hot sperm soon surged into Phil. Rather to Tom’s surprise, but not at all to his displeasure, this triggered a second orgasm for the dark-haired teen.
After that much cum shooting around, there was quite a bit of cleaning up to be done. “But,” thought the hypnotist with a smirk, “Four obedient hypno-slaves make it a lot easier.” It really wasn’t long before the room was back in order, and all four young men were once again fully clothed. They sat about the living room, blank-faced and motionless, still in deepest trance, awaiting their next commands. Their memories had been carefully wiped of any recollection of the sexual aspects of the evening.
“Phil,” Tom said, “You know you’re a good-looking boy, don’t you?” The teen nodded vacantly. “Tell me about your buddies. Which of them are also handsome, like you, and Joey, and your uncle and his brother are handsome?”
Phil thought briefly and then answered, “Scott Anderson, Bobby Turner, Mike Page, and Grant Merrick.”
“You, Jay, same question.”
“Jim Manoukian, Dave Cornell, Sean and Patrick Kilburn, Cody Duchamps.”
“And you, Joey.”
“Pete Johnston, Andy Parker, Nick Davidov… and my brother Matt.”
Tom came to the real point of this exercise: the widening of his web. “Being hypnotized is wonderful. It’s the coolest thing you can ever remember having experienced. Isn’t it?” Nods and mindless grins all round. “You naturally want to share the wonderful experience with your pals… but only the good-looking young male ones, right?” Again came the unconditional agreement. “When you leave this party, you will no longer consciously remember anything about me (although you will still obey the post-hypnotic suggestions I’ve given you all concerning responding to my summons and to your trance triggers), but you will be aware that you do know a perfectly good hypnotist: Cooper Thompson. You are going to feel compelled to talk about how great it was to be hypnotized by good old Coop, and to do everything in your power to get your friends interested in trying it, too. And Cooper, of course, will be glad to oblige. Repeat your instructions,” The hypnotist grinned wolfishly as the four hypnotized voices droned on and on reviewing the long, complex series of suggestions were turning them into Tom’s unwitting talent scouts. They all were getting it. And as long as they got it, Tom would continue to get it… on!
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