Disclaimer: All the usual caveats apply. You must be over the legal age for your community, and undisturbed by the topics of erotic mind control and gay sex in order to be permitted to read this. All others must stop. This is fiction, so any resemblance to real people or circumstances is unintentional. (Considering the plot material, you’d have to be hallucinating to find this one suggestive of reality, anyway.) And, as always, I submit my plea to those of you who read my stories and like them: write and post your own. There are a few of us working away in the trenches to keep the fantasy alive, but there are many of you out there (with imaginations just as warped as mine) who aren’t letting us in on your imaginings. After all, it doesn’t have to be literature; it just has to be hot.
by
Curt
Jenner walked into his new high school as though he owned it. Transferring for
senior year, which would have been traumatic for most eighteen-year-olds,
didn’t bother him a bit. His dad’s career in the military (reflected in Curt,
in the conservative cut of his dark hair, the hard body that discipline and
exercise had given him, and the spit-and-polish manners he could turn on at the
drop of a hat) had moved the family around so often, that Curt had attended
eight different schools since kindergarten and was very used to being the new
kid. Time and again he had proven to be smarter, more athletically adept, and
better looking (Curt wouldn’t have seemed out of place in a guest spot on
Dawson’s Creek or Smallville) than most of the local boys, so that, within a
couple of weeks, he had either become part of the school’s ruling clique, or
had destabilized it so much that he could form his own power base. This school
had been no exception. Within the first two weeks of his attendance he had made
the varsity football squad, had an article published in the school newspaper,
been invited to join the key club, and banged the head cheerleader.
This last
wasn’t such an accomplishment, as she seemed to consider servicing any halfway
decent looking football player to be part of her duties, but it was typical of
Curt’s m.o. He went through girls like Kleenex in cold season, each one no more
than another notch on his bedpost as far as he was concerned. Occasionally one
would last through a few dates, if she were particularly hard to charm (or
particularly good in the sack), but usually it was “love ’em, leave ’em, forget
’em, and on to the next”. Having bagged the cheerleader, Curt was already
casting his wandering eye for the next candidate, and he quickly settled on
Diana Dee. She was a raven-haired beauty with a figure that made Curt want to
howl like a wolf. She didn’t seem to have a boyfriend, either, which surprised
him. As hot as she looked, he figured that she’d have to be either unbearable
as a person, or a lesbian. He asked around discreetly, however, and discovered
that she was straight and considered rather sweet, if a little spacey, by the
other kids, although all the guys who would comment, advised him to leave her
be. They refused to be specific, merely pointing out Todd Jackson and Bryce
Culpepper, two strong, masculine, handsome, and openly gay senior boys, and
telling him that each of them had gone on one date with Diana, and come out of
the closet the very next day, to everyone’s utter astonishment.
Curt began
to laugh. “You can’t be serious. That’s ridiculous superstitious nonsense!
Nobody suddenly becomes gay. They had to have been gay before and you
just couldn’t tell. About the only possible thing Diana could have had to do
with it, would have been to make them realize that, if they couldn’t get
excited over as hot a fox as she is, they might as well admit the truth
to themselves and accept it.” His friend Bob McCandless, key club president and
captain of the swim team, to whom he was talking at the time, just gave him a
“you’ve-been-warned” look and let the matter drop. Later, Curt, who had no problem with gay guys as long as they
didn’t hit on him, asked Bryce about it directly.
“Yeah,
I’ve known I was gay for a long time. I just didn’t want to admit it. Diana was
really sweet about the whole thing, which was pretty cool of her considering
she’d just been through the same kind of scene with Todd not three weeks
before. Here I was supposed to be her rebound date, and afterwards she even
helped set me up with Todd. She’s a doll.” He smiled a little ruefully. Curt,
not having any psychic abilities, was totally unaware that, on the inside,
Bryce was screaming hysterically, trying to fight through the imprisoning lock
on his mind that was forcing him to mouth these bland, totally false
assurances.
Curt was on his third date with Diana. She
had proved to be curiously difficult to seduce, by his standards. It wasn’t
that she was taking a moral high ground and refusing to fool around, so much as
that, whenever he tried anything beyond the most decorous kissing, she would
just smile enigmatically at his moves, and somehow the situation would be
defused. He couldn’t quite figure out how she was managing it. Tonight,
however, Curt was out for blood. He was dressed in a tight, army-green t-shirt
that could have been painted onto his sculpted torso, and crisp khaki camo
pants. He knew he looked outrageously male and alpha, and he’d put on just a touch
of his sexiest, most pheromone-laden cologne to seal the deal. Unless she was
made of stone, he’d have her before the evening was over.
And it
was working. For the first time since they began going out together, Diana
seemed to be turned on. Curt’s kisses were being received with parted lips,
and she was letting herself be touched (and touching him in return) in
ways and places she’d never permitted before. He knew he was in! Curt suggested
driving to Lookout Hill, but Diana whispered that no one was home at her place,
so in next to no time, they were tangled up on her living room couch, making
out like mad.
They were
both down to their underclothes, and Curt was just fiddling with the clasps on
her bra, when suddenly a voice shattered the quiet, “DIANA ELIZABETH DEE, WHAT
DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!!” Both of the teens jumped as though they had been
hit with a cattle prod. Curt was already grabbing for his clothes as he turned
to face the furious woman (and where the hell had she come from, anyway?)
who now stood in the room glaring at them. She was an older version of Diana,
although on her face all traces of beauty had been temporarily erased by rage.
As fast as
he could, Curt pulled on his pants and shirt, but Diana, making no move to cover
herself, just sighed in exasperation, “Oh, Mother!”
“How many
times are we going to have to go through this?” her mother fumed. “You know
what will happen if you don’t control yourself until you’re twenty-one! You’ll
lose everything! For Goddess’ sake, once you’re of age you can sleep
with every boy on the planet if you want, and no one will stop you, but until
then you have to behave, or She’ll take it all away and you’ll have nothing!!”
Feeling a
little more in control, now that he was dressed again, Curt tried to smooth
things over a little. (After all, from what he’d just heard, it sounded as
though Diana wasn’t merely a fox, but might just possibly be a rich fox
as well! It wouldn’t do to burn any bridges here if he could help it.) Calling
up all of his well-mannered charm, and with as much apparent sincerity as he
could muster, he said, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dee. I really like Diana, and we got a
little carried away, but I respect your wishes and I respect your daughter. I
would never want to do anything to hurt Diana or to endanger her inheritance.
I’ll be leaving now. Please forgive me for upsetting you both. Good night, Mrs.
Dee. Diana, I’ll call you, if I may.” He turned, and was making for the door,
when Diana’s mother uttered a string of what sounded like nonsense syllables to
Curt. In a blink, he found that, strain as he might, he couldn’t move a muscle
or utter a word. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Mrs. Dee
laughed. It was a harsh, ugly sound. “So you’ll be leaving now, will you? Oh, I
don’t think so. You talk very prettily, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I know
that, as soon as my back is turned, you’ll be right back at it. Boys like you
think only with their peckers, and by the time you grow any sense at all, you
will have ruined the lives of dozens of silly girls, including my Diana.
Since I can’t trust her to look after her own best interests, I can see
I’m going to have to step in and take care of it myself. Now turn around.” Curt
was suddenly able to move, but instead of streaking out the door as he was so
desperately trying to do, his body turned itself to face her, and then promptly
froze again. “Diana,” Mrs. Dee continued, “Go to your room.”
“Don’t you
dare do this again, Mother!” Diana hissed, but her mother made an
intricate hand gesture, and Diana, her face still fiercely rebellious was
propelled from her seat to walk out of the living room and up the stairs as
though she were a puppet on strings, until she was out of sight. Curt felt his
terror escalate another notch. Do what again? And to whom? Visions of
Todd and Bryce, and his classmates’ warnings filled his imagination.
“As you
may have realized by now,” Mrs. Dee said to the petrified young man, “I am a
witch. So is Diana. Our whole family, going all the way back to Dr. John Dee in
the court of Queen Elizabeth the First, are witches. What you probably don’t
know, however, is that witches derive their powers from the Goddess - Astarte,
Artemis, Diana, Hecate, Kali, She goes by many names in many cultures. And the
Goddess values chastity and self-control. A young witch has only minor magics
(such as Diana used to control your impulses until she lost her own
head), and receives full powers on his or her twenty-first birthday, but only
if he or she has remained virgin up to that time. If a witch has not
remained pure, the Goddess becomes seriously miffed, and withholds those
powers. And that’s a best-case scenario. More often, she also adds some
extremely unpleasant curse or other to express her displeasure more thoroughly.
I simply cannot seem to make Diana understand what she is risking, so
instead, I have no choice but to remove temptation from her path.”
Virginia
Dee looked Curt over carefully. She had to admit that Diana had good taste in
boys, at least as far as looks. He was handsome, all right; just as the
other two had been, which made things a little easier. Speaking to thin air she
called, “Jason, I need you to come here for a moment.”
There was
a rush of displaced air, and suddenly a young man was standing beside her.
Curt, frozen in place, couldn’t flinch with surprise, but he would have if he’d
been able. So that was how Mrs. Dee had burst in on Diana and him with
no warning. This Jason had to be either Diana’s brother or a close cousin. He
had the Dee family looks. His raven-black hair was cut short, and stylishly
tousled, and his body was lean and wiry, but well formed, as his tight,
European couture clothing boldly revealed. His face was a masculine version of
Diana’s exotic beauty, although his current expression was pissed-off, not
seductive.
“What is
it this time? I was busy, damn it!” His light voice didn’t sound
sorcerous in the least, just petulant. He could have been any normal young guy
of Curt’s acquaintance.
“Don’t you
take that tone with me, Jason Dee. You may be a full warlock now, but you’re
still my son, and I won’t have it,” his mother snapped. “Your foolish little
sister lost her head again, so I have another one of her mistakes for you to
re-train. He’s over there,” and she pointed to Curt.
Jason
really looked at Curt for the first time, up and down, as thoroughly, Curt
realized to his horror, as he would check out chicks at a club. The
warlock’s dark blue eyes almost glowed with interest, and he licked his lips.
“Baby sis sure can pick ’em, I must say,” Jason drawled. “He’s the hottest one
yet.”
“There
now, you see? You’re going to have some fun out of this after all,” his mother
said, “So you can stop being annoyed with me.” She gave her son an affectionate
peck on the cheek and then walked out of the room, adding over her shoulder as
she exited, “Just make sure you return him before anyone starts to miss him.”
Jason gave
Curt another long once-over, and then said, “You may not realize it yet, but
Mom is cutting you a break. If she’d handled this herself, pissed off as she
is, you’d probably be a toad by now. As it is, you’ll only have to make a few small
changes in your personality. I was in the middle of something, so we’d better
take this back to my place.” He snapped his fingers in a curious rhythm, and
suddenly, with no transition, they were in a strange bedroom. It was the
quintessential young bachelor’s room, with some clothing scattered on the
floor, a king-size bed that dominated the space, mix-and-match furniture, and
little attention given to decoration other than several rather large mirrors
which were pretty obviously sexual in purpose. The only unusual feature was a
handsome, club-kid blond, rather tough-looking young man who was kneeling
motionless beside the bed, staring straight ahead, his face completely devoid
of all expression. He was wearing nothing but a black leather harness attached
to a cock ring, and had a huge dildo stuck in his ass. He hadn’t reacted at all
to their sudden appearance.
As though
it were the most natural thing in the world, Jason put his hand on Curt’s rigid
shoulder and said, indicating the spellbound blond on the floor, “This is
Steven. He came here planning to rob my apartment. Now he’s become part of the
property. I can’t decide if I want to leave him in this shape, or if I should
turn him into a puppy. What do you think, uh… oh, by the way, what is
your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘Uh’.” He grinned boyishly, looking rather
like Harry Potter if he were to grow up to become a male model.
Curt
listened helplessly as his own voice gave his full name without any volition on
his part, and then, to his shocked disgust, heard it add, “Just make him think
he’s a puppy.” “Christ!” he thought, “Where the fuck did that come
from?” Not that he cared what happened to some piece-of-shit burglar, but this
was sick!
“Really?
No more than that? Man, you don’t need a wizard to just make him think
he’s a dog; an ordinary mortal could do that! All he’d need is a
little dose of hypnotism. Very well, then. At least it’s a quick fix, so that I
can get to work on you. And I have to admit you’ve just intrigued me;
apparently you’re kinkier than you may realize.” Jason didn’t pause for Curt to
reply, which, in any case, he couldn’t have done without a direct question. He
uttered short burst of that same obscure language Curt had heard Mrs. Dee use
when she bewitched him, and Steven suddenly came back to life. He fell forward
onto all fours, his mouth opened and his tongue lolled out in a silly canine grin,
and he wiggled his butt from side to side so that the protruding end of the
dildo wagged in a grotesque parody of a tail. He stared up adoringly at Jason,
and then, with a soft whimper, he rolled over onto his back in the classic
doggy pose of submission. The young warlock reached down and scratched his
hairy chest. “Good boy, that’s a good boy,” he crooned, and Steven-dog shivered
with pleasure. “Now go into the other room and stay there until I call you.”
The spellbound thief rolled back over with a woof, and, still on his hands and
knees, scampered out of the room. “And remember you’re housebroken,” Jason
called after him.
He turned
back to Curt. “Now, what shall I do with you? Oh, don’t bother to answer that;
it was rhetorical, and it’s not your choice in any case. Of course,
you’ll have to be gay…” Curt’s eyes pleaded for mercy, desperately trying to
convey the message his mouth could not. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Jason
said impatiently. “Once you are gay, you’ll enjoy it every bit as much
as you’ve enjoyed being straight. I’m not taking your sex drive away; I’m just
re-directing it so that my dim little sister is safe from your attentions. For
that matter, as hot a stud as you are is probably going to see even more action
with other guys than you’ve ever gotten from the ladies. Hell, I’d do
you in a New York minute! (As a matter of fact, come to think of it, I will
be doing you, since it’s necessary for the spell. And if you’re wondering how I
can square all of this with the purity thing, once a witch has reached the age
of majority, the Goddess doesn’t seem to care any more. I guess she figures
it’s time for you to be responsible for yourself. That’s probably why Sabbats
get so wild and crazy – all those witches and warlocks making up for lost
time.) No, you’ll be gay all right; the question is: what kind of gay?
Hmmm…” Jason began to pace back and forth as he thought. Had he been able to,
Curt would have been literally shaking with fear, but he was still bound in
rigid helplessness by the spell he was under. Finally the handsome young
warlock stood still and looked at Curt again. “I just can’t make up my mind.
I’ll make you generically gay, and then we can try a few styles to see what’s
the best fit.”
Jason
uttered another, more complicated string of the weird syllables, and suddenly,
with no sense of transition, Curt found himself thinking, “Man, this guy is as
hot as a pistol!” He felt the same kind of predatory sexual response to his
captor that he had been feeling towards Diana only an hour before. Like
Todd and Bryce before him, he still retained that place deep, deep within,
where the old Curt was screaming and struggling silently against the
unbreakable bonds that held him captive in his new persona, but for all intents
and purposes, he was now queer as a three-dollar bill, and always had been.
“First,
let’s try a standard queen.”
Another
string of syllables, and Curt found he could move. His joints all seemed
curiously loose, however. Gesturing extravagantly, he pointed to the clothes he
was now wearing (tight tank top, bright spandex bike shorts, Reeboks, and a
rainbow flag pendant), and lisped angrily, “Get me out of this shit, right now,
you spiteful bitch! I look like the poster child for terminal fashion tragedy!
I look like Richard Simmons!! I mean it! I’ll slap you ’til you need a
face-lift just to scratch your nose!!”
Jason,
giggling like a maniac, snapped his fingers, and instantly Curt was back in his
pseudo-military attire, once again immobile. “Okay,” the warlock chuckled, “I
admit I didn’t really expect that one to be the answer. It’s great as a revenge
spell on gay-bashers, but it’s just too one-dimensional for a real life. And
besides, you’re going to need something that comes to terms with that
kinky side of yours. How about being a leather boy?” And he let loose more of
the magical language.
Curt was
able to move again, and his body felt normal to him. But the clothes… He was now wearing a black leather cock
harness much like the one he’d seen on Steven-dog, black motorcycle boots, a
black leather vest, and a silver-studded black leather collar. His head was
shaved, his right nipple was pierced with a silver tit-ring, and he had a
Celtic armband tattoo. Jason looked him up and down, and said, “Now this
looks more promising.” He gestured towards himself, and suddenly his
high-fashion clothing was gone. He was now wearing tight black leather pants
and nothing else. Curt immediately got a hard-on. The warlock was so
fuckin’ hot! Without even considering it, he stepped forward, reaching out to
caress the hard, sculpted chest of his master. Jason grabbed him roughly and
began to tongue-rape his mouth. Curt nearly came from excitement, but managed
to control himself, and returned the kisses with equal violence, eventually
forcing his tongue into the sorcerer’s mouth. Their passionate exertions
became more and more violent, until they truly were more struggle than sex.
Jason broke away and snapped his fingers, and once more Curt was a statue,
dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in, and groomed as before. Another gesture,
and Jason’s accustomed attire had returned as well.
“Well,
that was certainly a better fit, but still not quite the thing. After
all, you have to go back to that Podunk high school and your little white-bread
friends. How could you possibly manage? Besides, you apparently have a need to
be a top, and since I’m the only one of those I’ll allow around
here, we’re gonna have to find something a little more subtle.” Jason began to
pace and think again. Suddenly he stooped short, a wide grin blossoming on his
handsome face. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before? You even kind of
suggested it yourself. You’ll get all the action you can handle, and it’ll keep
Mom from bugging me every time Di gets a case of hot pants! Dude, you’re gonna
be a hypnotist!! Every time you want a guy, you’ll put him in a trance,
and he’ll be yours to do with whatever you want. And every time my sister
starts attracting too much attention from some stud, you’ll be right there to
cool his jets and turn him around. It’s perfect!” From thin air the warlock
produced a glittery crystal hung on a gold chain. “Here, buddy,” he said,
fastening the chain around Curt’s motionless neck, and stuffing the small
pendant down inside his t-shirt, “Tool of the trade. This one has a little
enchantment on it: no ordinary mortal can avoid becoming hypnotized if you use
it for the induction. The beauty part is, I won’t have to worry about a power
struggle with you, ’cause witches can’t be hypnotized! Yesss!!” Jason
pulled Curt’s arm up into the air, where it stayed, and then gave him a high
five. Then, lowering Curt’s arm again for him, he said, “Now all that remains
is the spell itself, and the sex to seal it.” He spoke the new spell.
Curt was
finally free to move and was without any bizarre added bodily accoutrements. He
didn’t feel any different (other than that he still found Jason to be a
major hottie, and, although he knew at some level that this was a new idea for
him, it felt so familiar that it was as if he really had been gay all
his life). He was wearing the same macho military-style gear he’d had on when
he left his house, although now he had a more visceral appreciation of how sexy
he looked in it. And, if he had thought about it (which he didn’t at that
moment), he would have realized that his mind was filled with a brand new and
thoroughly detailed knowledge of all the finer points of hypnotism. As if it
were the most natural thing in the world, he found himself moving into Jason’s
embrace. Their lips met, parted, locked, and their tongues dueled. Curt never
noticed when their clothing vanished. He just knew they were skin to skin from
chest to intertwined thighs. His dick was so hard it almost hurt him, and the
juice it oozed as it rubbed up against Jason’s belly and equally rigid member
caused an unbelievably erotic slipperiness. He felt Jason’s wandering fingers
find the crack of his ass and begin to explore. As on fingertip touched the
virgin hole, tracing a mystical symbol on it, Curt was filled with such a
longing he almost couldn’t bear it. “Oh, God,” he moaned, “Fuck me! Please fuck
me! If I don’t feel you inside me I think I’ll die!” (If Curt had been
possessed of an ironic turn of mind, he might have recalled that this was almost
exactly what the head cheerleader had cried out when he was doing her –
although, in her case, the line was rehearsed, not spontaneous.) Jason flipped
him onto his back as though he were weightless, pulled Curt’s legs up until
they rested on his shoulders, and then began to plow his ass. Curt could now
truthfully have told you what the phrase “mind-fuck” meant. (Or, rather, he
could have if he had remembered afterwards, which, of course, he didn’t.) The
warlock’s magical assault on his ass completed the destruction of Curt’s old
self and self-determination, cementing his new identity in place forever. His
last conscious awareness, before the aftermath of their simultaneous orgasms
sent him deep into enchanted sleep, to awaken in his own bed the following
morning with no recollection of the supernatural portions of the previous
night, was of Jason calling, “Here, Steven! Come here, boy!”, and the sounds of
bare hands and knees scrabbling across the floor.
That next
day at school, Diana waited until she could catch Curt alone. She grabbed him
by the arm and dragged him into an empty classroom. “Curt, are you okay? Oh,
God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” She was almost crying.
Curt
patted her hand in a brotherly way. “I’m fine, just embarrassed, mostly. And
that’s my fault, not yours. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you! It’s
just… oh hell, you’re so beautiful and nice and… and I thought… hoped… hoped
that maybe with you I wouldn’t have to be gay. I wanted… It’s just so
damned hard to be different! I kept trying to believe it was just a
phase; that I’d change if I could only find the right girl. But then we were
making out, and you were so perfect, and… and I was still gay. It’s time
to stop fooling myself and get on with my life. I’m really sorry that I led you
on. I hope you can forgive me some day, because I’d like to be your friend.”
Now Diana
was really crying. She hugged Curt hard. “Oh, my poor, dear baby! I’ll always
be your friend.” Then, choking on sobs and the guilt she could never express
(nor he would ever understand), she fled from the room.
“What a
sweetheart she is,” thought Curt. “I think she’s more upset for me than I am,
and most girls in her place would probably be consigning me to blazes right
about now.” He stepped back into the hallway, still musing over Diana’s
touching and unexpected sympathy, and bumped squarely into Bob McCandless. “Oh.
Sorry, Bob,” he said, “I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going. I have a
lot on my mind right now.”
“I bet you
do,” said Bob. “I saw Diana running out of here, and it sure looked like she
was crying. What’d you do to her?”
Curt, face
flushing with embarrassment, unable to meet Bob’s eyes, summoned up his courage
and came out to his friend. As he tried to explain himself, he absently drew
the enchanted pendulum out of his shirt and began to twiddle it nervously while
he talked. “I suppose you’ll want me to resign from key club,” he finished,
staring at his shoes.
“I suppose
I’ll want you to resign from key club,” Bob echoed in a flat, abstracted voice.
Curt
looked up sharply. Bob’s face was blank, and his eyes were fixed on the
twinkling crystal pendulum. Suddenly it all clicked for Curt. He was hypnotizing
Bobby McCandless! And he realized that he liked the idea! Bob, with his
soft, wavy brown hair, his warm hazel eyes, now so sleepy and dull, his long,
lean swimmer’s build, so temptingly packaged in tight jeans and letter-jacket,
was a hunk and a half. In a soft, yet firm voice, Curt commanded, “Come with me,
Bobby,” and, obedient as a child, his eyes still locked on the pendant, Bob
obeyed, following him back into the empty classroom. Working quickly and
efficiently, never once wondering how he knew what to do, or why he was so good
at it, Curt took Bob down into the deepest of trances. Within a very short
time, he had transformed the handsome, popular jock into a helpless, programmed
sex-toy. Then he erased the evidence of his tampering from Bob’s mind, and
released him to wander confusedly off down the hall, his befuddled brain
totally unsure of what had just happened, but unable to question it.
Late that
night, in the back seat of Bob’s father’s Explorer, Curt fucked his buddy’s
mouth until cum practically came out of his ears. Then he made the entranced
young man jerk himself off until he was almost raw. It was a great night, but
even before Bobby in his slave-boy mode had finished licking up the last of the
dribbles of cum, Curt was already thinking about whom he might want to capture
next: Bryce and Todd, the lovers? Don Nielsen, the flashy, blond tight end?
Manolo Perez, the slim, romantic exchange student from Spain? For Curt hadn’t
changed that much. Just as it had been with girls before, now, with
guys, it was still mostly about getting his rocks off and carving that new
notch in the bedpost.
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