Disclaimer: I get tired of typing this. No one who is under the legal age (as determined by his community) for viewing adult materials, or who takes offense at the idea of erotic hypnosis or male-to-male sexual activity is allowed to read this. It’s fiction; get over it! You can download or print this for your own enjoyment, but you may not re-post or publish it without my consent.
by
When you’ve been around as long as I have, you pick up a thing or two. My name is Vince McQuaid, and, okay, maybe I’m not all that old (only a little over 30), but I’ve been around the block a time or two. Never had much use for the 9 to 5 rat race, so I do odd jobs. You have a tree to be pruned (or to come down)? House want painting? Have a broken lock or window? Appliance or car on the fritz? Sink stopped up? I’m the guy you need. Call me a handyman or jack-of-all-trades and look down your long corporate nose if you want, but it’s honest work, it keeps me in beer and cigarettes, and I bet I sleep better than you do. And occasionally it comes with some perks that your white-collar world probably doesn’t. Like I said, I’ve learned a few tricks knockin’ around – such as how to hypnotize a naïve young man into giving me what I want from him. Take Robby, for example. I did!
Robby is Robert Andrew Taggart, III, which is a hell of a lot of moniker to inflict on a sweet, simple kid like Robby. When I first met him, it was a typical suburban call: fancy house, a faucet that wouldn’t stop dripping (and no one in residence with a clue about anything so working-class as plumbing!), busy daddy and busy mommy, both at work, and teenage son at home to let the plumber in. He opened the door and, for me at least (the kid’s straight), it was lust at first sight. God, what a pretty face! Looks like a blond angel, or maybe Huckleberry Finn without the mischief – wide open and innocent. And his eighteen-year-old body in the t-shirt and worn-to-fit blue jeans he had on that day made my blood want to fizz like champagne! In my mind it wasn’t a question of if I were going to have him; it was only a question of how.
He let me into the house and showed me to the kitchen and the offending tap. Robby is one of those really polite kids: soft voice, well-spoken, calling me ‘sir’, even though his upbringing had almost certainly taught him that my class was an inferior one to his. He stayed in the kitchen with me while I worked (probably because mommy had told him to make sure the hired help didn’t try to make off with the silver), and we got to talking in a casual fashion.
I noticed that his gaze seemed to gravitate to the thin stream of water trickling from the faucet (that is, until I fixed it), and that gave me an idea. I have a little hand-held strobe light that I use as a timing light for auto tune-ups, and it was still on my tool belt from a previous call. I said, “Robby, that drip made me remember something really cool a guy showed me once. Ever see what a strobe light does to running water?” The kid shook his head, but he looked interested, so I started a little trickle of water again, took the strobe out and flipped it on. The kitchen wasn’t really dark, but it faced north, and it was late enough on an overcast day that the effect, though not perfect, was still pretty good. The smooth flow now appeared to be a string of pulsing beads. By adjusting the timing of the strobe, I could make it look like they were standing still, or even moving upwards back into the faucet.
“Wow, cool!” Robby sounded more like an adolescent with his first video game than a college freshman. His blue eyes were locked on the light show.
“It gets better than that,” I said, shifting my voice into a subtly softer and more rhythmic mode. “If you watch closely for a while, and relax your eye muscles, you’ll begin to see the beads change color. It’s not real obvious at first. You have to concentrate and really relax… that’s right… just like that… watching the water drops sparkle in the light… keeping your eyes on them, but letting everything relax…” Robby’s face was growing a little slack. His pretty pink mouth had opened slightly. I kept talking softly and persuasively. He was swaying a little as he stood, now, and his expression had become even more vacant. It was working just as it had worked for me so often before in a variety of situations, just as it had worked for the guy who demonstrated it to me years ago.
“You’re beginning to see a faint pink tinge in the water… relax… it gets redder and redder… relaxing and focusing… And now what color are the drops, Robby?”
“Red…” Robby’s voice trailed off sleepily. His head had begun to tilt forward a little, as though it were growing too heavy for him to hold it up, but his unblinking stare never left the water.
“That’s right, son… red… and red is a very relaxing color… you relax more and more as you watch the beads… s-o-o relaxed… but they’re changing again… getting darker… more purple… purple is an even more relaxing color… deep and sleepy… so relaxing… so sleepy… Do you see the purple, boy?”
“Yesss… p-purple…” Robby’s blond head had fallen so far forward that his chin was resting on his chest. His arms hung slack at his sides. The kid’s eyes had a tired, heavy-lidded look, as though he’d been up all night reading in bad light.
“Purple making you relax more and more… so sleepy… and it keeps getting darker as you relax more and get sleepier and sleepier… and soon the beads will be blue… getting darker and sleepier… blue is the sleepiest color of all… so-o-o sleepy… so relaxed… and when the beads are all blue, your eyes close and you fall deep into sleep… deep into sleep… but you always hear my voice…” Robby’s eyes had grown heavier and heavier as I talked, the opening between his luxuriant lashes narrowing to a mere crack, until, when I said, “See only blue… and sleep… deep, deep sleep…” they closed altogether, a shudder running through his entire frame as the last tiny spark of consciousness escaped him.
I shut off the strobe and then the tap, but kept on talking as I drew him down into deeper and deeper levels of hypnotic trance, establishing control and obliterating resistance. After about ten minutes of careful work on my part, the kid’s cornflower blue eyes were open again, but as empty as a china doll’s, and he stood at attention, a little hypno-cadet ready to obey any orders I might choose to give him.
“When will your parents be home, Robby?” I needed to know what kind of time frame I had to work in.
“Six thirty, sir.” He answered right up as polite as you please. Too bad that only left one safe hour before I had to get everything back to normal and be gone. Oh well, so be it.
“Robby, whenever you hear me say the words ‘deep sleep, blue’, your mind’s eye is going to be filled with the image of those sleepy blue beads of light and water, and you’re instantly going to return to this completely relaxed, completely obedient, deeply sleeping state you’re in right now. It won’t matter if I say it in five minutes, or five days, or five months. The result will be the same. And each time it happens, you’ll go under deeper, faster and more easily than ever before. Do you understand me, son?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. McQuaid.”
“Now, I’m going to touch your forehead, and when I do you’re going to forget your name. It’ll just be gone completely. It won’t frighten you, but you’re not going to be able to remember it until I tell you to, no matter how hard you try.” (I had to make sure I could block his memory before I could move on to the main event.) I touched my thumb to his forehead (soft skin!) and said, “What’s your name? You have to try to tell me.”
“I’m… I…. uh….” It worked! The kid’s eyes almost rolled up into his forehead as he wracked his brain for the missing info, but to no avail. His name was gone.
“You’re name is Robby, and now you can remember the rest of it, too. We’re buddies, Robby, real good friends, so you’re going to want to talk to me at least once every day or two. My phone number is ___-____. Repeat that.” He did. “You won’t remember it until you want to call me, and then it will just pop into your head, ready to go. As soon as you’ve dialed you’ll forget it again until the next time. Remember, at least once every couple of days. If you don’t get ahold of me the first try, you’ll keep on trying ’til you do. Repeat all that.” The kid was a good subject; he got all the details right the first time. Now I could keep him well trained hypnotically, and get him to come to me wherever and whenever I wanted, ready for whatever I chose. For now though, I’d just settle for something quick and dirty. His hypnotized little voice already had my pecker as hard as a tent spike.
“Boy, it’s damned hot in here. It’s so hot I can hardly stand it. You feel it too, don’t you? Your clothes are just way too heavy for temperatures like this! Go ahead and take ’em off. You’ll feel so much better. Take off your clothes and get cool, Robby. Take ’em of now!” I didn’t wait to see his reaction, but whipped my shirt over my head and hauled my woody out of my work-pants. Couldn’t be bothered to ditch the pants altogether. We didn’t have that kind of time anyway.
Robby took a little longer since he was so relaxed his coordination was a little off, but he got the job done. What a sweet body! He had left his boxers on, but they were plaid in a blue that matched his eyes, and he looked so fuckin’ cute I decided not to make him take ’em off. Besides it gave me the germ of an idea for later. It only took a few more suggestions, and he was on his knees with that pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. (Oh, he thought he was sucking on a pop-sickle because of the heat. I hadn’t tried to turn him bi or gay…. yet!) He had the usual novice’s problems with teeth, coordination, and gag reflex, but hypnotic instructions soon smoothed it all out, and before long he was giving me head as good as a Santa Monica hustler. It felt absolutely fuckin’ great! It didn’t take long (which was a good thing, because we didn’t have long), and then I was blasting down his throat. I’d warned him about the vanilla syrup in the center of his pop-sickle, so he swallowed it all down with every sign of sleepy enjoyment. I could definitely get used to this!
I looked down at Robby, still on his knees because I hadn’t told him to get up. Time to break in those boxer shorts! “Robby, I’m going to touch you on the forehead again, but this time, it’s going to make you feel really sexy, so hot, bothered and turned on that you’ll have an orgasm right then and there. And it’s going to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had bar none – better than any girl has given you, better than any other guy (if you’ve ever tried one), better even than you’ve ever given yourself. Understand?” He nodded solemnly, and I could see the front of his underwear tent in anticipation. I put my thumb to his forehead again, and held it there. Robby’s mouth dropped open and his eyes closed. He let out a very long groan of absolute pleasure, and I watched the front of those blue boxers turn transparent and wet as the kid pumped and pumped more and more cum from his rigid cock. Man, he mustn’t have gotten any in ages! Finally, when it seemed to me that he had no more to give (and his body was shaking from strain and release), I removed my hand. He slumped back onto his haunches, his eyes re-opening about halfway in an unfocused stare.
“Robby, put the rest of your clothes back on. Don’t worry about your wet boxers. You now like the feeling of having cum in your shorts. It’s dirty and very sexy, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir…. ’s hot!” His dick gave another twitch as he tucked it and the wad of sticky wet boxer shorts into his jeans. The denim was still dark enough that, even as it grew damp in its turn, it wasn’t all that obvious.
“Eventually your cum will dry, but it feels so sexy that you won’t even think about taking the jeans or the boxers off until it is dry. You love it that you came in your shorts… but you won’t have any memory connecting that with me. You just jerked yourself off in your pants… just did yourself… only yourself… got that?” Again, the kid agreed mindlessly. I reinforced his trance trigger and his compulsion to keep in touch with me, and then removed all memory of the hypnotism from his waking awareness. As far as Robby would know now, we’d been friends for a while, and this afternoon he’d only looked at the strobed water drops for a couple of moments. I had the kid (still deep, deep in hypnosis) lead me to the door and let me out. He’d snap out of it when I drove a way. In the meantime, I stole a quick (but thorough) kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue. Yummm!
As I got into my truck, I thought, “Man, you need a nap!” And, hey, when you’re self-employed, who’s going to stop you? Like I said, this job has perks.
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