Parts 1-3
by
Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under 18, or are offended by the idea of male-male sex or mind control, DO NOT read this.
OK, here it is. No character development, not much of a plot, no great writing, but it kept ME excited!
Reader feedback is appreciated. It helps me determine what and whether to write!
[1]
Rob Chadler, the all-star NFL quarterback, sat across from the high school coach. "I've got to tell you, I was seriously impressed by the way you beat our West High team," he said. "And now that West has been knocked out of the 5A championship, I have to consider what's best for my sons. They've only got one year left to win a title. And I can't have them leaving high school as losers."
Chadler was built the way you would expect an all-pro QB to be, tall and with an upper body that threatened to break free from his wifebeater shirt. Still, at age 33, with his boyish grin, freckles, and straight long brown hair that still hung over his eyes, he looked like nothing more than an overgrown kid. His almost 17-year- old triplet sons, blond, nicely muscled and looking more like his younger brothers, were poking around the coach's sparsely furnished office, clearly not impressed by what they saw. Their school was a nationally-known football power, well-funded, lavishly equipped and professionally staffed, and yet this podunk high school had eliminated their top-ranked team from the state playoffs.
Everyone knew of the Chadler triplets. At 6'6", an inch taller than their dad, they starred on the West High team that was fully expected to win state. As they strode around his office, the coach noticed their fluid, athletic movements. Their every action betrayed a totally confident attitude, bordering on cocky, although when they grinned they showed that they inherited their father's winsome ways. Rob Jr., the oldest by six minutes, was West's quarterback; Brett, second in age, was a running back, and Danny, the "baby" by a few minutes, was tight end. If you saw them individually, it was almost impossible to tell them apart. But when they were together, you could sense the subtle hierarchy of age. Rob Jr. was clearly the leader, Danny the last in line. But outside the family, any of the three would dominate in almost any group.
The elder Chadler went on. "So Coach, how did you take a team from a 2-9 record last year to the championship game? No one's ever done anything like that before in this state."
The coach smiled. His life of constant workouts showed in his considerable build, although his muscular development lacked the refinement of the quarterback's. "Well, we changed our system this year, and it has worked great, if I say so myself. But of course it's secret. We wouldn't want our competition to find out, would we?"
"Well, coach, I am seriously considering moving into your district in the next month so my sons can play for your school. I want them prepared for playing at the next level, and I think you're the man to do it."
The coach looked at the triplets. "I'm sure your sons would fit in very well under our new system. We emphasize discipline and respect for the team over individual performance. I've found that when you do that, individual performance follows along naturally."
The QB laughed. "They could have used that lesson a few days ago when you kicked our butts, huh?"
"True. To tell the truth, I'd be thrilled to have them here next year. Tell you what: if you'd like, just to get an idea what we're about, I'd be happy to let them work out with the team tomorrow afternoon. Interested?"
The triplets didn't look that interested, but their father was. "Great. That way they can see how they could fit into a true championship team. Something they didn't get at West."
The coach and the QB shook hands. "Fine. We'll be expecting them tomorrow." The Chadler men left. The coach walked out of his office, into and through the locker room, to join the team in the workout room at the back. As he got there, his eyes locked onto the sign taped on the door that had a picture of a hand making a gesture and which said, in large black letters,
"TEAM IS OBEDIENCE"
and his eyes glazed over. Mumbling "Obedience is team", he shed his clothes down to his jockstrap, took his collar that was hanging from a nail in the wall and fastened it around his neck, and entered the workout room.
There, the team, similarly attired in collars and jockstraps, was in a workout frenzy. They mostly worked in pairs, with one using a machine while his partner chewed on his nipples, lapped at his armpits, tongued his balls, or licked his feet. Tom, the senior quarterback preparing for the championship game, his last, was attended by the tongues and hands of three of his offensive linemen as he went through his regimen.
On two chairs on one side of the room sat Greg and Tim, the only students in the room not wearing collars. Greg, a senior, 6 feet tall, was not on the football team; his swim team credentials were displayed by his lean, smooth physique and respectable six-pack. Tim, a sophomore, 5'5", wiry and muscled, was on the wrestling team at 110, but was more of a brain than an athlete. Greg and Tim each had between his spread legs a beefy defensive player kneeling and facing him, looking longingly up at him, and occasionally down at his crotch, licking his lips. Greg and Tim absent-mindedly stroked their devoted linemen's hair as they might have a pair of large pet dogs, as they discussed the developments they had witnessed from the webcam in the coach's office.
Tim was concerned. "Tomorrow? How can we possibly have the triplets here tomorrow? It takes at least a week of conditioning to get someone completely into our system. They're straight. They're arrogant. They'll freak out... they'll tell!"
Greg said, "Don't worry. We don't have to fully integrate them into the system tomorrow. We only have to get them as far as obedience. In a few hours, we can have them completely under our control, whether they like it or not. Then we can have them start to come over regularly to finish the job.
While Tim was contemplating this answer, his kneeling lineman's extended tongue stealthily moved closer and closer to Tim's jockstrap. Just as it was about to reach its goal, Tim noticed, pointed what looked like a TV remote control at the lineman's collar, and pushed a red button. The lineman yelped and pulled back.
"Bad Lance. Baaaad. You know you're not supposed to touch me without my permission." The lineman looked up at Tim with sad, puppydog eyes. Tim softened. "Aaah, you know I can't say 'no' when you look at me like that. Wash my balls." The lineman gratefully dove at Tim's crotch, laving his balls one at a time. Greg laughed at the picture of the lineman, who weighed more than twice what Tim did, licking the sweat off his small master's balls, with great gratitude at being allowed to do it.
Greg surveyed the room. "Hey, look, Jansen is serving as Tom's footstool as Tom does reps on the weights, and we didn't even tell him to! He's really putting himself into it, isn't he?" Greg pointed his remote in the direction of Tom's big feet and pushed a green button. Immediately, he heard a moan of pleasure from Jansen, and saw Jansen's jockstrap bunch up under pressure from his growing cock underneath.
Greg returned to the subject at hand. "Don't worry about the triplets. Just make sure you bring enough of the drug to start the conditioning, and to guarantee they'll come by to my house each evening until they're completely 'ready'. Frankie, rub your chin stubble on my cock, and you can have my cum." His pet lineman, who kept his stubble at a constant level just for the reason of pleasing Greg, began to stimulate his master's cock with his chin in anticipation of his protein prize. After a good number of strokes, Greg grabbed Frankie's head by his hair, forced Frankie's mouth onto his cock, and shot down his throat. After swallowing his delicious hot snack, Frankie cleaned Greg's cock of stray drops and crawled away.
Greg clapped his hands, which signaled the end of the workout. Coach stood in front of the group, gestured, and said, flatly, "Team is obedience," to which the players flatly replied in unison, "Obedience is team." Coach went on, "Good workout, and let's thank Master Greg and Master Tim for our success and the personal happiness they have brought us. See you at practice tomorrow." As the players left, they hung up their collars on the nails and went to the showers. As they left the area of the workout room, they seemed to snap out of their trance and started their normal bantering. Anyone seeing the team now would not notice anything unusual about their behavior. It was as if nothing had happened. Yet their team conditioning had been reinforced at the same time as their physical conditioning was improved. The team was so closely bonded, and so totally in shape, that they were virtually impossible to beat.
[2]
After school the next day, the triplets showed up in Coach's office. He was waiting for them with a DVD player. "Rob, Brett, Danny, have a seat. I'm glad you decided to come. I'm sure you'll find this a rewarding experience, and you can meet our team a bit later. But first, I thought I'd show you our standard orientation video. While I'm setting it up, please drink the sports drinks in front of you. I insist that everyone who works out with us be fully hydrated." The triplets thought this was a bit weird, but they dutifully drank what was in the cups. "OK, now watch the video closely. I'll be back when it's done." With that, Coach pushed the "Play" button and left the office.
The video began with a history of Hoover High, with an emphasis on its historic football accomplishments, which until this year actually never amounted to much beyond the city's bounds. But gradually, the video started to introduce regular spiraling patterns in the background, while the pictures and sound track became more and more repetitive, just as the drug in the sports drink started to kick in. The video reached its crucial middle stage, as the voice-over droned: "Hoover has always promoted the TEAM concept above the individual. We emphasize TEAM needs, and find that success is tied to TEAM OBEDIENCE. We believe that TEAM is OBEDIENCE. TEAM is OBEDIENCE. When you hear this, when you see the HAND make the SIGN, you know that OBEDIENCE is TEAM. You must say, 'OBEDIENCE is TEAM.' Say 'OBEDIENCE is TEAM." By now, all three triplets were fully in a trance induced by the video; all three said out loud, in unison, "Obedience is team."
The video went on to reinforce this message over and over, and to introduce the Hoover concept of the "team master", Greg, and his assistant master, Tim. As they were described and pictures of them were shown, the triplets were helplessly induced by the video to produce hard-ons. They were told that the hard-ons were uncomfortable in their clothing, and they were instructed to take everything off. Masters Greg and Tim could thus easily tell if this first video was working properly by watching the webcam in the coach's office. As the video went on, whenever the phrase "team is obedience" was heard and the hand gesture shown, there was a pause for the subjects being programmed to say, "obedience is team." And whenever a picture of Greg or Tim was shown, the subjects were expected to begin to get hard automatically.
The three giant blond teens suddenly snapped out of a daze, to find themselves in the workout room kneeling in a row wearing only jockstraps and collars. As much as they flexed their considerable muscles, they found they could not stand up, or even turn their heads, although they were not physically bound in any way. In front of them, sprawled over two easy chairs wearing jockstraps, were Greg and Tim. The triplets immediately knew who they were from their programming, although they didn't know HOW they knew. They had no conscious memory of having left the coach's office while watching the video, or even much of what had been on the video.
At the foot of their chairs, Greg and Tim were each getting their feet tongue-bathed by a muscular football player on all fours in front of him. The player "pets" Lance and Frankie, clad identically to the triplets in jockstraps and collars, had their eyes half-closed with pleasure, and had totally devoted looks on their faces as they lovingly slurped away.
The triplets had expressions of fear mixed with rage. If they could only get loose, they could pound Greg and Tim into the ground. Greg enjoyed watching the rippling muscles in their arms and legs as they fought their imaginary constraints. The triplets, despite themselves and their emotions, were also becoming hard, although they had no idea why. It was beyond their control, which added to their fear. Rob Jr. tried to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.
Greg smiled. "So you want to join our team. We're sort of the team gods, Greg and Tim. We're the ones who have made Hoover High a championship-caliber football team. But you're going to have to get with our system to join the team. Then I can pretty much guarantee you'll be state champions next year, like your daddy wants. Cocksucking, ass-rimming, boot-licking, punishment- craving, man-worshipping bottom pussies, yes, but champions."
Hearing this, the triplets redoubled their struggles to get free. They were covered with a thin layer of sweat from the effort. "Fight it all you want, but you WILL join this team, on our terms. To help with your conditioning, you're going to have to watch a few more long, boring videos. But don't worry, you won't remember sitting through them. And in here, we'll help you further learn right from wrong with this." He pointed the collar remote control at the triplets, which they stared at blankly.
"Displease me, and you get THIS," Greg said, pushing a red button. Instantly, they were writhing in pain, although nothing touched them. Even with the punishment, they could not move off their knees, or lift their arms. And no sound came out of their mouths. The pain slowly died down as Greg watched.
"But please me, and THIS is how it feels." Greg pushed a green button, and immediately, the triplets felt as much pleasure as they ever had in their entire lives. It was like throwing a touchdown pass and having sex with the hottest chick imaginable at the same time. Their cocks, untouched, pushed past the top of their jockstraps. As the effect gradually wore off, the triplets felt an bizarre mixture of abject fear and intense satisfaction. Towards Greg and Tim, they also could feel the faint video-induced stirrings of lust, love, and loyalty behind their still-strong feelings of hatred and contempt. It made no sense, but they could already tell it was beyond their control.
Greg observed the scene with satisfaction. Clearly the first video had worked as hoped, and he could guarantee that the mindfucked triplets would return to complete their conditioning. When that was done, they would be his willing instruments and playtoys even when not tranced. He saw the confusion in their eyes, and reveled in it. He clarified their helplessness to them, reinforcing it while he did so:
"Right now, I don't own your hearts, minds, or gonads, but I do have one thing: your absolute and unquestioned obedience. You don't have the will to disobey anything I tell you. You can't even try to find your way around my commands, your minds will force you to comply totally. For example, you're looking at me with real hatred and fear in your eyes. I order you to replace that look with one of total lust." Instantly, the triplets' hardened facial expressions changed to intense attraction, complete with lip licking. "See? You don't feel it yet, but you have to look it, 'cause I told you to.
"I know you hate me now, but trust me, in a few days your muscled bods will be tripping over each other to humiliate yourselves in my presence. And I know you don't like the idea of being reduced from alpha males to obedient musclepussies, but you'll be truly grateful to me for doing it by the end of the week. By the way, you have to report to my house every evening at 7 to complete your training. You can tell your folks you're making friends with your new team. And you have to insist to your dad that he move to our school district, that it's the best idea he's had. And you can't tell anyone what's really going on with our team, without my permission."
Greg's speech, and the triplets' reaction to it, was turning Tim on something fierce. He was busy rubbing his cock through his jockstrap.
"Tim, you look like you could use some help with that. Rob Junior, lick Master Tim's cock. And make sure you do the whole length of it." Tim walked up to the paralyzed kneeling Junior, and ground his crotch in the helpless jock's face. Automatically, without even a conscious thought, Junior responded to Greg's command, making sure his long tongue covered every inch of Tim's cock with jock saliva.
Greg laughed. "Seven inches. Not bad for a skinny little guy, huh? But I can't compare it to you guys' over nine-inch power cudgels. They're yours now, but soon they'll be my personal weapons, along with your intense green eyes, perfect blond hair, and long tongues, in my plan to control the school and more. With the three of you, I'm gaining over twenty-eight inches of jock meat for me to play with, and for my other slaves, and future slaves, to worship and care for.
"Oh, and my final command for today: Forget your separate bedrooms. You have to learn to lose your individuality and become integrated team members, so you won't be able to sleep unless you're all touching each other. That will be a good way to start the process. You may have to hide it from your folks for now; I'll take care of that later, when the coach becomes VERY good friends with both your father and mother. Then you'll be able to interact any way you like -- or rather, any way I like -- and your parents won't even notice. They'll be too busy working with coach.
"OK, go home. And I'll see you tomorrow evening at my house." Without a word, the triplets stood in unison, dashed to the corner to grab their clothes, dressed, neatly hung their collars on the wall as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, and ran out the door in fear.
As they drove home in Junior's Porsche, Junior said, "They're going to take over our whole family. Dad, Mom, all of us. We've got to stop them!"
Brett said, "But we can't tell anyone. It would be wrong." Both his brothers nodded their agreement. "And we really do have to convince Dad to let us join the team," he went on. "We've got to be champions next year."
"Obviously," said Danny. All three of them fully accepted the correctness of Brett's observations, as if they were their own ideas.
Danny went on, "But I want to be a team leader. I don't want to become a sex slave to a pair of sadistic faggots. And you heard him about the coach. He's already their slave. Can you imagine him lording it over Mom and Dad?" But a funny thing happened. As Danny went over each of these possibilities, all three boys felt a stirring in their crotches. Each of them secretly hoped he was the only one having the reaction. But the first indoctrination DVD was beginning to have its effect. And in just three more days, if everything went according to Greg's plan, the heart, mind and gonad takeover would be complete...
[3]
The training and conditioning week was a great success. Even when not tranced, the triplets' feelings about the system, the coach, and the team gods were compatible with those of the rest of the team. At Greg's house, as the triplets stood in only jockstraps, tranced and at attention in front of Greg and Tim, the masters' "pets" Lance and Frankie were crawling around them on all fours, sniffing their crotches, feet and legs, and occasionally darting a tongue out to clean off a drop of sweat, like the large pair of puppies they had been turned into. From now on, with the appropriate command, the triplets would lose any sense of independent thought or action, only feeling a need and desire to obey. Even when they were not in a trance, and thought they were independent beings, they would not realize that their personal goals and desires were now planted in them by Greg and Tim.
Greg spoke. "You are now ready to join the team. I have fixed your sense of right and wrong so it will be consistent with the team's. You're ready to join the team in our last workout before the championship game. And I know you'll be helpful with that workout. It will help team morale and solidarity to have each team member anoint you with his precious bodily fluids. And you know you want those fluids!" And they truly knew they did.
"Tomorrow, we'll see how competitive you are with your new programming. Tomorrow's workout will feature a wrestling competition among the three of you. Since you're well physically matched, it will be mental toughness that wins the match. And when you hear the stakes, each of you will be REALLY motivated to win. The prize is: total access to my cum. You know from these last few days how strong that makes you, and how weak you feel when you're deprived of it." This, too, had been part of their week of conditioning.
"OK, I need to do a bit of individual programming of Rob Junior. Tim, send Lance and Frankie home, and take Brett and Danny down to the living room so I can work a bit with Junior." Tim escorted the four jocks downstairs, saw Lance and Frankie dressed and out the door after a friendly rub of their muscular rears, and then sat Brett and Danny, still tranced, on the couch.
"Oh, shit," thought Tim. "I forgot to pick up the drug supply we're going to need for tomorrow." He looked at Brett and Danny sitting dazed on the couch, staring forward mindlessly. Surely it would be all right to leave them like this. Greg would probably be done with Junior in a couple of minutes, and would come down to deal with them. Tim got dressed, went out the front door, and ran to his car. As the front door closed, the loud "click" of the doorlatch awakened Brett from his trance. Where was he? He saw Danny sitting there, eyes open but totally out of it. He tried shaking Danny awake, to no avail. Evidently, Danny's trance was much deeper than Brett's had been. Brett heard noise from upstairs...
In his room, Greg was pacing around Junior, who had both huge feet firmly planted on the spot and was staring forward. Greg spoke, letting his works soak through to the subconscious of his playtoy.
"You know the real purpose of the match tomorrow. I can't spend time running all three of you. I have to pick one of you as boss of the other two. Besides, you know each other so well, so one of you is the best one to know how to operate the other two brothers. But which one? You all look so alike."
Greg ran his fingers through the flowing blond hair of the frozen, helpless Junior. He had to reach way up to do it.
"I want you to win, Junior. I've seen how you three guys interact. When each of you is alone, his body and sheer power of will seems to command total respect and awe from whoever he's with. But when you're together, I've seen that you tend to run the show. You must know how to push your brothers' buttons, keep them in line. For the good of the team, of course, since team is obedience." He raised his right hand in the gesture.
Automatically, without even consciously knowing it, Junior said, "Obedience is team."
"OK, let it all sink in, and then you can leave. And figure out a way to win tomorrow!"
Satisfied with the results of the session, Greg left the room by the bathroom door, snapping his fingers so that Junior could come out of his trance. As he started his shower, Greg knew that he could count on Junior's own mind to come up with ways to defeat his siblings and become chief slave, with no further help from Greg.
But Greg didn't notice that, from behind the room's front door, someone had been watching everything that went on...
Junior shook himself out of his stupor. He noticed he was the only one in the room, standing there in just his jockstrap. "That's weird," he thought briefly, running a hand through his beautiful blond locks. Then his mind turned to how he was going to beat his brothers in the wrestling match that would decide which triplet ran the lives of the other two. Junior was the oldest, he was the bearer of the famous name. Greg was right, Junior always did tend to dominate the other two in situations involving the three of them. Junior knew the weaknesses of the other two: Brett's occasional indecisiveness, and Danny's tendency to act without thinking. He smiled as he realized he could easily win tomorrow's battle. He stood up to go. When suddenly...
In the door walked Brett, also clad only in a jockstrap. He held up his right hand, made a gesture, and said, "Team is obedience." Instantly, Junior's eyes glazed over again, and he came back to attention, intoning, "Obedience is team."
"Oooh, too bad, big bro. I saw the whole thing, I know how it works now. And you know you can't win tomorrow. You know I'm stronger than you. Say it: 'Brett is stronger.'"
Junior, staring straight ahead, said, meekly, "Brett is stronger..."
"Brett is more powerful..."
"...more powerful..."
"Brett deserves to run the family."
"...run the family..."
"That's right. And you don't really want Master Greg's cum anyway. It would be wasted on you. You're weak..."
"...weak..."
"In fact, you know what turns you on most of all. You know what gets you SUPER HOT. Total humiliation gets you super hot."
"Humiliation... super hot..."
"Yeah. You only get hot if you're being whupped and controlled by someone smaller than you."
"Smaller..."
"Yeah, and with no muscles. And especially with a really little dick. You want desperately to submit to some skinny little guy with a little button dick. Master Greg is too much man for you, and Master Tim's dick is too big. But you remember that little freshman at our school from the P.E. class, who showers with us sometimes? Who hides in the back shower and always faces away from us 'cause he's ashamed to show us how little he is? Who some of our team sometimes makes fun of, calling him "dickless" and "Mexican hairless"?
"Hairless..." Junior's cock was beginning to strain against the jockstrap, and would soon inevitably push its way out.
Brett cackled when he saw this evidence of his ploy working. "Yeah, now your biggest fantasy is that he whips you in front of our whole team, puts a collar and leash on you, and rides you naked through the locker room. Even through the whole school." That did it. Junior's cock could no longer be constrained in its jock prison. It popped out and pushed its way towards and past his navel.
Junior's own mind was now working on the scenario. His deep green eyes stared forwards, his hand went for his cock as he thought out loud, "Hairless... commands me. Outmuscles me. Shows... the whole school... I belong to him. Crushes my face under his foot at my locker..." And that was all it took. Geysers of cum erupted from Junior's cock as he pictured himself dominated by the "hairless" freshman.
"That's it big bro. You can't tell anyone, but those are your secret, HOTTEST fantasies. So you're going to let ME, your superior younger brother, win tomorrow's wrestling match. And I'll run the family like I always should have. Now get dressed and take off." And Junior, able to move again, mindlessly put his designer clothes on, soaking them with sweat and cum, and slowly took his rippling muscles and reprogrammed mind out of the room and down the stairs. And Brett gloated to himself: it's MINE! Rob's gonna LOSE and I'm gonna be ruler of...
At that moment, Danny came through the door in his jockstrap, raised his right hand in the gesture, and said, "Team is obedience." Brett glazed over, murmuring "Obedience is team," and stood frozen, staring forward, where Junior had previously stood.
"So, middle bro, now I see what's going on. Trying to take the family away from Rob, huh? Well, too bad, I saw everything. And now it's finally MY chance to have my say. I've always been the baby, even though I'm just a few minutes younger than you guys. And now that you've set Rob up so he'll perform tricks on command for any runty mall rat or junior high skater that looks at him mean, I think it's up to ME to run the family. You're just the middle kid, you don't mean shit. Say, 'I'm not worth shit compared to Danny.'"
"...not worth shit compared to Danny..."
"In fact, look at me." Helplessly, Brett's eyes turned to Danny. "You lust after me. You worship me. You always have. I'm your ideal, I'm the brother you've always wanted to be like."
"...be like..." Brett looked up at Danny standing there. Danny started flexing, striking bodybuilding poses. "You've always wanted to be like me. You admire my bod." He pivoted, his leg muscles rippling hypnotically as Brett stared. "You know I should be the one to run the family. So tomorrow, you'll be too turned on by me to win. You WANT me to win. You WANT me on top of you, both physically and by force of will. So as of tomorrow, I'll get Master Greg's cum and that's exactly what you want! Say it!"
"...want Danny to get Master Greg's cum... worship Danny... always wanted to be him... always wanted to lick his sweat... loved his powerful chest, his big arms, his sexy feet..." Brett's mind was already expanding on Danny's instructions, the same way that Junior's did with Brett. And even though anyone could see that their bodies were almost indistinguishably alike, Brett now felt admiration and worship for his younger brother's musclebod. And sure, it was only right for Danny to run the show. Brett's cock expanded as he watched Danny pose. Wow... those bulging biceps... those lickable pecs... that sweaty armpit with silky blond hairs... that sizable package... kapow! Brett's cock exploded with cum, saturating his jockstrap and getting all over the floor. Brett, dazed, looked at Danny, waiting to be told what to do.
"OK, your turn to dress and split. And remember, I OWN you! When Master Greg isn't using you, of course." Brett dressed and left the room. Danny soon followed, smiling to himself. Master Greg was going to get a surprise or two during tomorrow's competition...
* * *
Well, any interest in having me continue this one? And any suggestions where should I go with this? (I do have some ideas...:)
http://www.eroticgayhypnosis.com