Disclaimer: No one who is not of legal age may read this story. No one who is upset by the idea of erotic hypnosis or gay sex would even want to. This is fiction, and any representation of actual people is coincidental and unintended. Before embarking on this story, you will probably want to read “Sleepy Boy” and “Johnny and the Psychology Pool” which precede it and introduce several of the characters. If you enjoy what you read here, try writing a story of your own. I like to read too.

Hypnotized By Proxy

(another Tom LeBlanc Story)

by

Hyptrance

I. The Preparation

“Hello, Tom LeBlanc hypnosis.”

“Hello, Mr. LeBlanc. This is Carl Sturdevant. My son Brett hired you for the bachelor party of one of his fraternity brothers a few months ago?”

“Ah, yes. I remember Brett. What can I do for you, Mr. Sturdevant?”

“Brett spoke so highly of your performance, that he’s convinced me you would be the perfect entertainment for a party Helen and I are throwing; a smallish gathering –no more than thirty. We live up in the Heights. Rather a long drive from where you are, but you would be welcome to stay over that night if you wish; it’s a very large house. It would be on the 23^rd of this month. Are you available then? And what would you charge for such an evening?”

Tom named his price, and the engagement was booked. Then he immediately phoned Brett’s fraternity house and soon had him on the line. “Lights out, Brett.” The pregnant silence on the other end of the line told him that his hypno-slave was still responding well to his trigger. “Look and act normally, even as you go deeper and deeper under my spell.”

“Yes, sir.” Brett didn’t sound vague or tranced.

“I just finished speaking with your father, and I’ve agreed to entertain at his party. Since his interest came from your sales pitch, I assume you know of some good-looking young men who will be there. Tell me about them.”

“My dad told me to hire four or five of my frat brothers to act as waiters, and I’ll be tending bar.”

“Will you and the brothers be staying over?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. I’ll arrange to stay as well. Now these are your instructions…” Due to Brett’s hypnotic compulsion to recommend Tom and, as a result of it, Angel Diaz’s spectacular success in kicking the smoking habit while still a pledge, a number of the other brothers had already come into Tom’s clutches one way or another, but there were still some (and among them, unfortunately, a couple of the most attractive) who had so far resisted all stratagems. The hypnotist finally saw a way to get at them. He commanded Brett to hire the two boys he was after (Eric Mallory and Alan Gorlowski, who so resembled Clark Kent and his rival Whitney, respectively, on the show Smallville, that the first time Tom had seen that program he had done a major double-take, wondering how two local frat rats could have wound up with plum roles on national television) as well as Cameron Porter (a blond stud who had fallen earlier in the semester, when he sought out Tom to deal with test anxiety) and Angel. “When they’ve all agreed, you’ll call me back to let me know, and when you do, make sure that Angel and Cameron are near enough to call to the phone. You will be hypnotized as soon as you hear my voice. I’ll hang up now, and you will awaken. You will forget having been in trance as soon as you put down the phone. Everything I’ve told you to do today will seem like your own idea. You won’t remember me giving you any orders; you’ll just think I called to thank you for the recommendation.” Tom rang off and Brett dutifully went about hiring his crew.

A few days later, Tom answered his phone, and it was Brett reporting in.

“Hello, sir. This is Brett. Everything is as you wanted it.”

“Excellent. You are deep under hypnosis, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Good. Tonight you will drive here to see me. You’ll bring Angel and Cameron with you - just the three of you, no one else. Now call Angel to the phone. When you hand it to him, you’ll return to normal consciousness with no memory of anything unusual.”

“Yes, sir.” Then, from farther away, “Angel, he wants to talk to you.”

Tom heard the phone change hands and then Angel’s light voice said, “Hi, Mr. LeBlanc. What’s up?”

“Sueños, Angel,” Tom uttered the control phrase. “You must come to see me tonight. Brett will drive you. Now give the phone to Cameron and wake up, with no memory of anything unusual.” A quick exchange including Cameron’s trigger (“think hard”), and that young man was also primed to attend Tom’s impromptu gathering.

With the three frat boys taken care of, the hypnotist had one last phone call to make; this one to Johnny Miller. Tom’s plan was to use Johnny to perform hypnosis as part of a teaching demonstration to Brett of how unsuspecting observers of a hypnotic induction could be tricked into a trance of their own by the right sort of commentary as they watched. Cameron and Angel would be Tom’s guinea pigs (and of course, Johnny would provide his own subject). At the completion of the call, the younger hypnotist had agreed (not that he had any real choice in the matter) to bring his hypno-slave Danny Sullivan by that evening for a lengthy and detailed hypnotism demonstration. Tom smiled as he hung up the phone.

“John Miller is a graduate student in psychology at ____________ University, and he’s had been working with me on hypnotism as his field of specialization. I’ve invited him to give a demonstration; it’s good practice for him, and entertaining for you all.” Tom set the stage for his invited (actually compelled) “guests”. Brett, Cameron, and Angel, already seated in comfortable chairs as audience, naturally had no inkling that their attendance was due to anything other than their own acceptance of an interesting invitation from the hypnotist. Johnny, likewise, obediently believed Tom’s cover story, and Danny, between Johnny and Tom, had so little conscious free will left, that he couldn’t have questioned his own presence, even if asked. As soon as the three frat boys had arrived, Tom had taken Brett aside, under the pretext of getting help with the refreshments, and had quickly administered a hypnotic block to prevent him from accidentally falling into trance during the course of the evening (or, at least from falling into a new trance – Tom planned to make use of the old one later on); Brett’s job was to observe and learn. Angel and Cameron, with no such protection, were destined to be as much a part of the proceedings as Johnny’s selected subject, Danny, was.

As Johnny began what was to be an extremely lengthy and repetitious induction, Tom leaned over towards the three frat boys and said, with apparent casualness, “He’s really very good, you know. Any number of times, I’ve seen onlookers go into trance just from watching him hypnotize a subject. It’s the voice, really; it’s so soothing that you just want to listen to it and do whatever he asks, and pretty soon you can’t think of anything else. See how Danny is already looking so much more relaxed just listening to Johnny… listening and relaxing… so relaxed… just listening… so-o-o relaxed… breaths getting deep, even and automatic…”

Brett, by this time, had turned to watch Tom and his fraternity brothers with fascinated surprise, as the hypnotist turned Johnny’s demonstration into a focal point for his own induction. Cameron and Angel, already caught in the trap, were unaware of Brett’s attention, or, for that matter, of the fact that they were being hypnotized just as surely as Danny. In response to Johnny’s patter and Tom’s carefully worded suggestions, their postures eased, their faces grew blank, and their eyes began to blink and water, until, when Johnny said, “Close your eyes and go deep into trance,” both Angel and Cameron were instantly and helplessly under the spell.

Tom leaned closer and quickly whispered, “Every breath takes you deeper and deeper. You can’t resist. At the count of five, you will open your eyes, but you won’t wake up. You will not realize that you’re hypnotized; you will not remember anything but that you watched Johnny hypnotize Danny. However, as soon as Johnny says, ‘Frat-boys, front and center,’ you will immediately stand up and walk to him, losing every bit of conscious will you possess. You will obey him as mindless slaves until he releases you. One, two, three, four, and five.” Cameron and Angel opened their eyes to stare, a little vacantly at Johnny, who was still giving Danny deepening suggestions.

The rest of Johnny’s demo was cut short, for as soon as he saw Tom’s surreptitious signal that the two target boys were safely entranced, he stopped working on Danny (who hadn’t really needed any deepening in the first place), and spoke the trigger phrase that Tom had just given to the college boys. Immediately, Cameron and Angel, like puppets on strings, jerked to their feet and stumbled over to Johnny, where they stood staring at him with sleepy concentration. He then began deepening exercises in earnest, focused this time on his two new recruits.

Tom turned to Brett and whispered, “Lights out,” returning him to a programmable state. He then quizzed the boy carefully to make sure that he understood what he had witnessed, that he was able to repeat the obvious steps, and that he was clear on how to lay the crucial groundwork for his targets (since, unlike Angel and Cameron, Eric and Alan would be hypnosis virgins, and so not as easy to entrance that first time without pre-programming from their own expectations). All of Brett’s responses were satisfactory, so Tom ordered him to strip in preparation for the real entertainment.

Meanwhile, Johnny had deepened the trances of his subjects to his satisfaction and was ready to proceed. He turned from them to look at Tom for instructions, and his eyes widened as they took in handsome, spellbound Brett, now stark naked, standing motionless beside the hypnotist. However, before he could react, the hypnotist had said, “Go Johnny, go,” and he, too was fast asleep. “Take off your clothes, Johnny,” Tom commanded, “And when you’re done, get the rest of them out of theirs. Think of something creative.”

Johnny dutifully undressed, his golden body causing Tom, now also nude, to spring a raging hard-on. Then he said, “Angel, Cameron, you cannot say a word or move a muscle. You are statues.” The helpless frat-boys froze, scarcely seeming to breathe. “Danny,” he continued, “Take off all of their clothing, and as you do, stimulate their bodies. They won’t resist.”

“Yes, Master John.” Blank-eyed and unquestioning, the pretty young slave unbuttoned Angel’s shirt. He pulled it free from the waist of the young Latino’s jeans and then eased it off of his rigid shoulders to drop on the floor behind him. Then he caressed Angel’s chest and bent down to lick one of his nipples. Unable to move or speak, Angel could only tremble slightly as his dick swelled in his jeans. Danny’s tonguing continued, moving down the exposed stomach, following the treasure trail to the jeans, until it could go no further. The boy then knelt, unbuckled Angel’s belt, unfastened his jeans, unzipped his fly, and, with one quick motion, pulled both jeans and the underlying boxers down to Angel’s ankles, exposing an impressive and now rock-hard cock, which Danny promptly began to suck. The quivering young Latino would have cum very quickly, if Johnny hadn’t intervened. He stopped Danny, and the two of them together tipped Angel, still as stiff as a poker, onto his back so that his shoes, socks, jeans and shorts could be removed. Then, after reminding Angel, flat on the floor, but in exactly the position he had been in while standing, that he was still a statue, and that every part of him, including his hard dick, would remain immobile, Johnny turned Danny loose on Cameron. In short order, he too was stripped, erect, and lying on his side like a toppled monument.

Now Danny was the only one in the room who was still clothed. Johnny said, “Cameron, Angel, you are no longer statues. You can move again, except that your cocks will remain rigid.” They both relaxed where they lay. “You must both strip Danny. Take turns, one piece of clothing at a time, and whichever of you isn’t taking off Danny’s clothes will be kissing him. Danny, you will cooperate.”

Angel rose and gently pulled Danny to him, running his fingers through the boy’s glossy black hair. He took possession of Danny’s mouth as it opened to his insistent tongue. Cameron, reaching around from behind the boy, unbuttoned Danny’s shirt and slid it off. Then, as the shirt fell to the floor, he covered the nape of the boy’s neck with kisses. Angel dropped to his knees, undid Danny’s belt, and opened the fly of his chinos, he then pulled them down and off over Danny’s shoes, one foot at a time. Tossing the pants aside, Angel began to kiss the insides of Danny’s thighs just below the hem of his erection-tented white briefs. Cameron kissed his way down Danny’s back until his lips hit white cotton. Then he gripped the waistband in his teeth and pulled the briefs down. As the boy’s cock and balls were uncovered, Angel began to kiss them as well as his thighs. Cameron freed Danny’s feet, and then buried his face in the cleft of the boy’s ass and began to rim him. Danny’s legs were shaking so in reaction to Cameron’s tongue action, that he almost couldn’t maintain his balance as Angel removed his shoes and socks, kissing each foot as he did so.

Tom, watching the action as Brett, in accordance with his command, gently stroked the hypnotist’s cock, thought to himself, “Damn! I wish I’d remembered to turn on the camcorder. That was incredible!” The visual feast, coupled with the physical stimulation he was receiving from Brett’s hand-job, made a prompt release imperative. Tom quickly ordered Johnny to make Angel and Cameron suck him and Danny, and then he commanded Brett to suck him. It took only a very few minutes before the mouth action of the three enslaved frat-boys had its inevitable result, as first Tom, and then Danny and Johnny each blew his cream into his slave’s mouth. Brett, an old hand at this, although unaware of it, swallowed Tom’s load without difficulty. Angel and Cameron, less experienced, drooled some of the excess from Johnny and Danny’s bursts down their chins. Tom told Brett to clean their faces with his tongue. Then he touched Brett on the forehead with one finger and said, simply, “Cum!” The handsome, thoroughly trained young man immediately shuddered and pumped his jism out onto the floor. The hypnotist instructed Johnny to give the same command to the other two frat-boys, still on their knees, waiting blank-faced for their next orders, and, at the touch of his finger, they too groaned in helpless orgasm and shot their wads. Another command from Tom, relayed through Johnny, and Angel and Cameron were lapping up the spilled cum like dogs.

Getting everyone dressed again and ready to come back out of trance took a while. First Johnny had to falsify the memories of his three subjects, and then Tom had to do a similar rewrite on Johnny and Brett’s recollections of the evening’s events. Finally, however, all five young men remembered the same (totally fictional) version of the hypnosis demonstration. When they were all awake again, the conversation was lively. Everyone congratulated Johnny on his hypnotic expertise and Danny on his skill as a subject. Brett teased Angel and Cameron, who were both amazed and confused that they had gone into trance without meaning to. Tom was certain it would be the topic of animated discussion later on back at the frat house. He was counting on Eric Mallory and Alan Gorlowski hearing about it at length, as the first step in predisposing them to go into spontaneous trance.

“It was the weirdest fuckin’ thing!” Angel was holding forth to a fascinated audience of his frat brothers, Eric and Alan among them. “We were just watching that Miller dude put the kid under, and then the next thing I know he’s waking us up and I don’t remember a damn thing about it!”

“Yeah,” Cameron seconded, “I always thought you had to cooperate to be hypnotized, but, shit, I was out before I even knew what was happening.”

Brett chimed in, “It happens all the time with a good hypnotist. That soft voice and smooth delivery that works on the subject is every bit as effective on anyone else who happens to be listening at the time. I’ve never seen a hypnotism show where a good number of the people in the audience didn’t go under right along with the ones on the stage; for that matter, I’ve even seen people go under for Tom LeBlanc who weren’t paying any attention, but just happen to be in hearing range! He’s impossible to resist.”

And Alan Gorlowski and Eric Mallory listened, becoming more and more vulnerable as their impressionable minds absorbed the idea. The topic came up several times that week under various circumstances until, by the time the party date rolled around, both young men were (at least subconsciously) virtually convinced that they would become hypnotized. They were even, in a way, looking forward to it.

II. The Main Event

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” After being introduced by Mr. Sturdevant, Tom launched into his monolog before the attentive audience of Sturdevant friends and business associates (the frat-boy wait-staff, no longer actively on duty since everyone was watching the hypnotist, was gathered nearby at the bar, comfortably seated on the padded and backed barstools, well within range, but not a part of the crowd). “It will be my pleasure this evening to introduce you to the fascinating world of hypnotism. Those of you with an adventurous bent will experience it firsthand, but I trust that everyone will find what they witness to be both entertaining and intriguing.” The hypnotist then asked for volunteer subjects, and about a dozen of the more daring souls made their way to the row of chairs set up facing the audience. They were mostly well to do and fortyish like the Sturdevants (although the youngest of Carl Sturdevant’s business partners, Cooper Thompson, only thirty years old, was among them). Other than brown-haired, blue-eyed Cooper, who was still boyishly handsome and fit, none were of any particular interest to Tom, but since his real purpose was to hypnotize the waiters without anyone catching on, that didn’t matter. All that was important to the hypnotist was to spin out the induction long enough to give his enslaved accomplice Brett sufficient time to capture his elusive frat brothers.

Tom began with standard breathing exercises, segueing into his normal relaxation patter, although at somewhat greater length than usual. In his peripheral vision he could see the fraternity brothers, outrageously cute in their bowties and white dress shirts. To his delighted satisfaction, both Eric and Alan were showing distinct signs of influence. With Brett between them whispering auxiliary suggestions, their handsome faces were losing expression, their breathing was growing deep and automatic, and their eyes were fixed unblinking on Tom as he continued his spiel. Trusting that their entrancement would proceed on course, Tom focused his attention on his party subjects, especially handsome Cooper. The hypnotist already had designs on him, even though he knew he couldn’t do anything about it this time around. If the young businessman proved to be adequately susceptible, then, at a later date, Tom could see to it that he received a phone call with a special invitation he would be powerless to refuse.

From then on, the show proceeded very much as usual. Out of the dozen or so volunteers, at least eight were hypnotized sufficiently to provide entertainment, and, as Tom was pleased to note, Cooper Thompson was among them. (As a matter of fact, he was turning out to be the best of the lot, having gone under very deeply, and possessing a real flare for the dramatic in his responses to suggestion. Tom found himself really looking forward to a later rendezvous, and made a careful mental note to be sure not to remove Cooper’s control phrase at the end of the show.) As for the frat brothers, both Eric and Alan fell completely under the hypnotist’s spell, just as he had hoped they would. Brett, in accordance with his orders had done a few quick (and very quiet) deepening drills, implanted them with a trigger phrase for Tom to exploit after the party, and then re-awakened them to watch the remainder of the show, none the wiser of their new status as hypno-slaves. As a matter of fact, when the two boys came to themselves, they were both extremely amused to notice that their comrades Cameron and Angel were fast asleep in their seats, unwitting victims, once again, of the power of hypnotism by proxy.

Tom pretended to notice for the first time that the two boys had been “accidentally” caught in his net. He explained for the audience’s benefit what had happened, and then call them up to the front with the rest of the subjects. He told Cameron that he was the chief executive of a fortune 500 company, and the blond jock held forth on the stock market and economic trends so pompously and nonsensically that even stiff Carl Sturdevant, who up until that moment had remained rather lukewarm in his reactions to the entertainment, was almost purple from laughing so hard. Then Tom turned sexy Angel Diaz into a very passable Chippendale dancer, strutting and grinding deliciously, although for this conservative group the hypnotist was forced to call that performance to a halt well before anything much was revealed. Even so, Marianne Fitzroy, the Sturdevants’ wealthy, divorced neighbor stared so avidly that it seemed as though she wished she really were at the club so that she could see the rest of the beautiful Latino boy’s goods. The climax of the show was Cooper’s. Tom had released all of the other subjects (as part of his plan to conveniently “forget” to remove Cooper’s trigger phrase) and was concentrating on him alone, increasing the depth of his capitulation a hundredfold. He made the handsome young businessman lose his own identity completely and then replaced it with that of his pretty wife Melinda. The audience was stunned, and even Tom was amazed, as Cooper Thompson literally became a lovely woman. The hypnotist had never seen even a professional impersonator do a more believable, understatedly perfect impression of realistic femininity than this studly, hypnotized amateur was achieving, and his anticipation for their potential future encounter grew even keener. When he finally awakened Cooper, the applause was extremely enthusiastic. A beaming Carl Sturdevant, pumping Tom’s hand vigorously, exclaimed, “Brett didn’t begin to do justice to you, Mr. LeBlanc! I’ve never seen anything like that in my life! You have single-handedly made my party the hit of the season.” Then he began to laugh again, “And Coop will probably never hear the end of it!” Tom concentrated on keeping a straight face as he modestly accepted congratulations and fielded eager questions. Meanwhile the waiters went back to their duties, including the bemused Cameron and Angel (who never did get his bowtie retied; it hung loose from his collar like some lounge singer’s at the end of a set), both somewhat embarrassed that they had been caught yet again.

Eventually, the party wound down, as all parties, even the most energetic, must. The guests departed, and only the family and those who were staying over remained. Goodnights were said, and everyone retired to their quarters. Since hypnotized Brett had been in charge of organizing the room assignments, Tom and the frat brothers were all in rooms in the same area, near Brett’s own room (and rather away from anyone else in the house). Tom waited only the shortest time before he left his room and knocked quietly on the door of the room Alan and Eric were sharing.

Dark-haired Eric opened the door. He was barefoot, and his shirt was unbuttoned revealing a sculpted, handsomely furred chest, but he still had his pants on. He had obviously assumed it would be one of the other frat brothers, for, when he saw Tom, he gave a slight start and instinctively drew his shirt together. “Mr. LeBlanc… uh… what can I do for you?”

Tom merely smiled innocently and said, “Kryptonite.” Instantly Eric’s eyes went blank as the trigger sent him plummeting back into deepest trance. He stood motionless, his shirt falling open again as it escaped from his suddenly relaxed fingers. “Invite me in,” the hypnotist suggested.

“Please come in, Mr. LeBlanc,” the boy droned expressionlessly, and stepped aside in a puppet-like parody of good manners.

Tom slipped into the room, and had just closed the door behind him when blond Alan came out of the adjoining bathroom. He had already stripped to his shorts, and his smooth, hard body was almost enough to take Tom’s breath away. However, before the young stud could react, the hypnotist repeated the trigger phrase, and he too was rendered helpless. At Tom’s command, Eric also stripped to his briefs, and the two boys stood with mindless patience while the hypnotist admired the resulting spectacle. Then he said, “Eric, Alan, when I tell you to begin, I want you to count each other’s toes. As soon as you have counted every toe, you will count them again, over and over. You won’t stop until I tell you to, and every toe, every number that you count will make you feel more relaxed, make you go deeper and deeper under hypnosis, make you feel hornier and hornier, incredibly sexy. To be certain you don’t miss any toes, you will kiss or suck each toe as you count it. Now begin.” As Tom left the room he could hear the sound of two sleepy, young male voices softly counting, interspersed with moist, smooching noises. The hypnotist smiled to himself and went to fetch his other slaves.

A quick room tour, “lights out”, “think hard”, and “sueños”, and three more hypnotized frat-boys in varying states of undress padded unquestioningly after Tom back to Alan and Eric’s room. The hypnotist ordered them all in and then locked the door. Alan and Eric were still obliviously counting themselves down one toe at a time in an orgy of foot-worship. By this time both were sporting rock-hard erections tenting their underpants, even though they were otherwise as vacantly unemotional about their task as automatons. A few more quick suggestions, and Brett, Angel, and Cameron were also down to their underwear, and quickly developing hard-ons. Tom told Eric and Alan to finish their counting, and soon all five frat-boys were seated in a row on the floor, gazing at the hypnotist with single-minded, adoring concentration as they awaited their instructions.

Tom was again struck by how closely Eric and Alan resembled the young actors on the television Superboy saga. Eric was not quite as androgynously pretty as Tom Welling, his looks being on the more boyish side of handsome, but Alan could have been cloned from the DNA of Eric Johnson. It gave the hypnotist an idea. He asked, “Boys, how many of you have seen the WB show ‘Smallville’? Show of hands.” All five raised their hands. “Excellent! You will believe everything I tell you now, absolutely and as soon as you hear it. You are the originals on whom that series was based. You are the high-school boys in a farming community. Brett, you are the young man on whom Lex Luthor was based, although, obviously, you haven’t lost your hair. This is your mansion, to which you have invited the others at your friend’s request. Alan, you are the person on whom Whitney was based: the high-school football hero and BMOC, boyfriend of the girl Superboy wants. Angel, Cameron, you aren’t given names on the series. You’re just Alan’s pals, following the quarterback’s lead off the field just as you do on it. And finally, Eric, you are Superboy, the Clark Kent character: orphan from another planet, possessed of super powers, and trying to come to terms with them. But there is something about you never mentioned on TV, of which you yourself are very aware, and that is that you, Superboy, are bisexual.” Eric’s blank face took on a momentary look of troubled denial. “Yes,” Tom insisted, “You are bisexual. You know it is true; you can’t deny it to yourself. You are as turned on by Alan as you are by his girlfriend. And you’ve just discovered a new super power. If you look into anyone’s eyes, you can control that person’s thoughts. No matter how hard he may try to resist, he will be compelled to think whatever you want him to think, compelled to obey your orders. You’ve decided to use this power to turn Alan and his buddies into gay sex slaves as revenge for their bullying, both for your immediate enjoyment, and to clear your way to the girl. Brett is already totally in your power, since you had to mind-control him to persuade him to organize this little party, but you have, so far, controlled the others only to the extent that they have stripped to their underwear without remembering why, and that they can’t avoid looking into your eyes any time you want them to. You’ll all continue to obey every order I give you, of course, but otherwise, you won’t react to my presence unless I give you a reason to. When I clap my hands, you will awaken in the reality I have described.” Tom clapped his hands sharply and settled back to watch as the tableau of hypnotized frat-boys sprang to life.

“What am I doing here? And where the hell are the rest of my clothes!?” Alan spluttered wrathfully. Cameron and Angel remained silent, but their expressions were dark and angry. Brett continued to stare vacantly into space, and Eric smiled a little contemptuously.

“You’re here because I brought you here, and your clothes are gone because I told you to take them off. Things are going to different around here from now on. You’re not the kings of the world anymore, you’re just meat!” Eric sneered. Then, as Alan lunged for him, he commanded, “Brett, hold him.” Brett instantly came to life, grabbing his furious young friend in a chokehold. “Look into my eyes, Alan,” Eric ordered, and, in spite of himself, Alan looked. “Freeze in place.” Alan was a statue.

Cameron and Angel finally tried to launch their own attack, but Eric was already waiting. “You two look into my eyes now!” And as they stared involuntarily, he told them, “You don’t want to attack me. You are little faggot slut-boys, and all you can think about is getting naked and having sex with each other. Now strip, lie down on that bed, and hump like bunnies. Until I tell you otherwise, nothing will stop you.” The expressions of the two handsome frat brothers had quickly gone from murderous to confused, and then to lustful, as the erections that had gone down at the arrival of their new identities swelled back to fullness. Like matching robot servos, they pulled down and tossed away their underwear, and then fell onto one of the two twin beds together, locked at the lips, a tangle of groping hands and thrashing limbs. Tom walked over to fondle one boy’s beautiful ass or the other’s by turn, as the rolling around of the two lovers exposed them, although he continued to watch the scene being played out by Eric, Alan, and Brett.

Eric turned back to Brett and Alan. “You can let go of him now, Brett. He won’t move.” Brett’s arms fell to his sides and he waited impassively for his next instruction. Eric, once more making eye contact with Alan, said, “You still can’t move, but you can speak if you want to.”

“You sick fuck,” Alan ranted, his face red with fury. “Let me go! I’ll kill you!!” But he couldn’t stop meeting Eric’s gaze.

“You won’t kill me,” Eric smirked. “You’re a sex-toy faggot just like they are. You may hate me, but you love my cock. As a matter of fact, you love any and every cock. You’re going to break up with Lana as soon as I let you leave here, and from now on, whether you like it or not (and since you’ve bullied so many guys into doing stuff they didn’t want to do, I kind of hope you hate it), anytime another guy asks you to (with your pretty boy blond looks, that’s likely to be frequently), you’ll suck him or let him fuck you, to the very best of your ability and imagination, and you’ll get completely turned on doing it. You’ll never be able to refuse, or to bully anybody again, you little cum-hound. Let’s try it out. Alan, you can move now; Brett, ask him for a blowjob.”

Brett walked around to stand in front of Alan, who watched him apprehensively. As blandly as though he were requesting the salt at dinner, Brett said, “Suck my cock, please, Alan.”

Alan groaned, “No-o-o,” but even as he said it, his knees were bending to lower him to the floor, and his hands were reaching out to pull down Brett’s briefs. He started to utter another protest, but it was smothered as, hands on Brett’s butt cheeks, he pulled him forward drawing Brett’s rigid dick into his mouth. Soon, Alan was slurping away like a sex-crazed vacuum attachment. His hands were roaming all over Brett’s ass, thighs, and balls, and his own cock had grown rock hard and was staining the front of his shorts with a dark wet circle of pre-cum. His eyes, however, were still looking daggers at Eric, who had removed his own shorts and was gently masturbating himself as he watched.

Tom whispered to Angel and Cameron, now locked in a passionate sixty-nine, “You won’t cum until I tell you to.” Then he went over to join the other young men. He stroked Alan’s soft blond hair as Alan’s head bobbed back and forth on Brett’s cock. “He’s doing a really good job, Eric,” he said. “Why don’t you reward him by fucking his ass? Oh, and Brett, you can cum now, please.” Brett instantly went rigid and then began to shoot his load. Alan choked briefly, and then, still licking and sucking, began to swallow. His face was a picture of distress, but his lips and tongue remained busy, busy, busy, and his cock remained steely hard.

Eric said, “Brett, as soon as you’re finished you can step away. I want to fuck Mr. Gorlowski’s butt. Alan, take off your shorts and get ready for me.” Brett, who had indeed yielded up his maximum, pulled his spent dick from Alan’s still-helplessly-sucking lips and backed off to stand at attention, while poor, terrified Alan, begging for mercy, pulled down his underwear and bent over the edge of the other twin bed, his ass defenselessly displayed. Eric spat into his hands and lubed up his dick. Then he drove it between those perfect pink cheeks into the hot, waiting hole and began to pump.

Tears of pain and humiliation were squeezed from the handsome boy’s eyes, until Tom, taking pity, whispered to him, “Alan, you realize that this feels great. You’ve never felt anything as sexually satisfying in your life.” Then he knelt and kissed away those tears, gradually working his mouth onto Alan’s, whose lips and tongue quickly responded with enthusiasm. Soon Alan was bucking his ass with complete abandon to meet Eric’s powerful thrusts as he humped, apparently forgetful of his earlier resistance.

It didn’t take long at all before Eric let out a muffled groan and climaxed. He fell forward onto Alan’s back (Tom had quickly moved out of the way), and whispered into his victim’s ear, “My cum’s in you. I own your ass now. Say it!”

His mind completely blown by all the overload of sensory and hypnotic input, Alan no longer struggled. “You own my ass, Eric… Master,” he repeated tonelessly.

“Roll over so that you’re face up, close your eyes, and then don’t move,” Eric ordered, and Alan did so. “Angel, Cameron, come here now.” Immediately those two boy’s left off their frenzied sex-play, rose from the bed and walked over to stand before Eric, their faces damp with smears of pre-cum, their eyes wide and unfocused. “Stand on either side of slave Alan, and jerk off until you cum all over his face.” They moved to follow his instructions, then froze briefly until Tom nodded his permission. Once released, it took them less than a minute, as excited as they already were, to shoot great splashes of their juice all over Alan. Soon his defenseless face was dripping with fragrant white globs.

Tom couldn’t wait any longer. It was his turn now. He rattled off the four control triggers in rapid fire, and the five frat-boys were again motionless sleepers. Brett, Angel, and Cameron were told to collect their clothes and return to their rooms, go instantly to bed, and forget everything about the evening’s extra-curricular diversions as soon as their heads touched their pillows. In moments only Eric, Alan, and the hypnotist remained in the room. “Kryptonite,” Tom crooned, and again, “Kryptonite… kryptonite…” over and over. Alan simply lay where he was, but Eric reacted almost as though each word were a physical stimulus. His relaxing body slipped more and more visibly from his control with each repetition, his head sagging forward, his mouth falling open, his helplessness almost palpable. Until that moment, the hypnotist had not fully made up his mind as to which of his new slaves would be his personal playfellow this night, but Eric’s wide-open vulnerability (coupled with Tom’s memory of how desirable the boy’s furry little butt had looked as it flexed while he fucked, and his disinclination to disturb the titillating picture of Alan’s beautiful face wearing its cum facial) tipped the balance. He took Eric by the hand and led the unresisting young man over to the other bed drawing him down onto it.

As they lay together, Tom noticed that the bedclothes still smelled faintly sexy from Cameron and Angel’s earlier use. Judging, from long experience, that Eric’s trance was so deep as to require no misdirection, Tom merely commanded, “Make love with me and let me fuck your ass.” Eric’s only response was to pull the hypnotist into an embrace and begin to kiss him open-mouthed, his stubble grating erotically against Tom’s cheeks. Like a sleepwalker caught in a sex dream, the boy continued his sensual assault, working his mouth and hands down the hypnotist’s body, until he was lapping at Tom’s crotch like a dog. Yet all the while, his eyes remained closed, his face, serenely empty of expression. A further command, and Eric obediently presented his ass. Within moments Tom’s cock was lodged between those inviting buns and he was humping away at the tightest, firmest little butt he’d ever had. All too soon, despite every delaying tactic he could muster, the hypnotist boiled over into orgasm and then collapsed exhausted beside his now motionless slave. He lay basking in the afterglow for a while, nuzzling the nape of Eric’s neck, and inhaling the warm, male scent of the well-fucked boy.

Tom’s original plan had been merely to erase Eric and Alan’s memories of the night’s activities, but he was struck by a slightly more interesting notion. “Eric,” he said, “Kiss all of the cum off of Alan’s face, and, as you do, you’ll be falling in love with him. And Alan, as Eric kisses you, you’re falling in love with him too, although you’re much too deeply hypnotized to move or open your eyes.” The hypnotist watched as Eric removed the wet slicks of jism with lips and tongue, his kisses growing more and more tender. When Alan face was clean, Eric continued to caress his soft blond hair and kiss him gently. “The two of you will sleep tonight as lovers do, naked in each other’s arms. When you wake up tomorrow, you will be unsurprised at finding yourselves in bed together, since you will still be in love. You may even find that you want to make love again in the morning. This is going to last until one of you puts on any piece of clothing. As soon as that occurs, you will both instantly forget everything about this night’s activities; you will never have been hypnotized, you will never have been boys from Smallville, and you will never have been lovers. All you will remember is going to bed in separate beds and sleeping soundly, just as you would have expected to do. However, you will still remain vulnerable to… ‘kryptonite’!” At the sound of the trigger phrase, the two boys jerked galvanically, settling even deeper into trance. “Now, go to bed and sleep.” Eric pulled Alan to his feet, and they stumbled drowsily over to Eric’s bed, crawled in between the sheets, curled up around each other, and fell fast asleep almost before the bedclothes settled.

Tom admired their innocently sleeping faces for a moment, and then picked up his clothes and returned to his own room. In spite of his post-sex relaxation, it was a long time before he could sleep. Visions of the frat-boys, and plans and possibilities danced through his head. With the fall of Alan Gorlowski and Eric Mallory, there were only two or three members of the frat left un-enslaved. They weren’t boys that Tom was particularly interested in on their own merits, but he realized that, if he could capture them as well, thereby ruling the entire fraternity, he could arrange for hypnotism to become a regular part of the hazing activities year after year, and have his pick of the pledges. A most intriguing idea! Perhaps Brett could be programmed to arrange a little party at the frat-house. And there was also Mr. Cooper Thompson. Tom couldn’t get the picture of handsome, masculine Cooper, stripped of his own identity, becoming the perfect woman. Could he just as convincingly become a gay hustler? A hypnotized high-school boy? An ensorcelled prince? Tom sighed, and then chuckled to himself as he recalled the old catchphrase: “So many men, so little time”. So many men indeed! The hypnotist smiled to himself, rolled over, and finally slept.

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