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Archived Sex Stories



Thorne in His Side

by Wrestlr and BrockJr

[M/M, MC, hypno]

[Synopsis: A high school teacher runs afoul of an arrogant student and
his friends.]

Disclaimer: There's sex, sodomy, and maybe a few other minor perversions
in this. If you don't like that sort of thing, read something else.
Everybody in the story is legal age. Parts of this story may be
autobiographical, or it might be all fiction---who can say?

Copyright - 2002 by Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only
if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read
the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use
this without the express permission of (and payment to) the author. This
paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Comments to

Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs: * (MC and general M/M stories, plus my
home page) * (MC and general M/M stories,
mirror site) * (MC

* * *

Thorne in His Side


I dropped the file on my desk. Shit--when I graduated from college with
my teaching degree a few months back, no one told me there'd be days like
this. No one told me there'd be classes like this!

My friends call me Eric. My students call me Mr. Hanson. My second
week as a substitute teacher, and the senior psychology students are
determined to make my life hell. No wonder the regular teacher, Mr.
Johnson, had a breakdown.

It wasn't so much the class in general as one class member in
particular. Most of them were just normal high school kids, following the
lead of a charismatic troublemaker.

I flipped through the student file I had borrowed from the office.
Jason Thorne. Notes from previous teachers praised his intelligence even
as they warned of his attitude. Well-respected parents and a home in an
upscale area. Good grades, though his scores had started dropping as his
high school years went on. Captain of the football team. No doubt the
team's winning season contributed to Jason's smug attitude. The press
clippings in his file-all from the sport section of the local paper-showed
an eighteen-year-old buried in his football uniform and school colors. The
helmet hid the shock of unruly black hair. The pads hid the tight body
that I remembered, a body that wore its expensive clothes like a badge of
honor. In one photo, Jason's eyes stare out from under the rim of his
helmet with the fundamental confidence of upper-class youth: a look that
says the world is his, and he will conquer it.

I closed the file. I had been eighteen just a few years ago, before I
got my degrees in education and psychology from State University. I
remembered what high school had been like. Jason had been a good kid
once--I thought maybe he can be again, if someone reached out to him.


Yeah, my name is Jason. If you got a problem with it, you can come talk
to me. No one tells me what to do. I mean; for crying out loud; I'm a
Thorne; my family runs this town. Both sexes love me, but most importantly
men want to be like me. I am six feet and four inches, and I have muscles
to spare. Football captain of my high school, and in the top half of my
class; what more could I ask for? I've got the looks and brains to conquer
the world like I know I will.


Just a few years ago, I was just like Jason. A horny kid, all reckless
energy and no focus, rebelling at everything. I kicked ass in sports,
especially wrestling, mostly because I let loose all my pent-up anger
during the game. Angry at everything and nothing. At the world. At
myself for being like this. About the only self-control I had was in
choosing to aim the worst of it at the opposing team. If anything, I was
even more disruptive than Jason.

See, I hadn't learned to separate my need to reach out from my need to
accept myself and make connections that were healthy and appropriate. One
day in my senior year, one of my teachers in high school took me aside. He
told me how he knew what I was going through--which I figured was a load of
horse-shit because he was, like, thirty or something--and he told me he
wanted to teach me a trick that one of his teachers had used to help him
learn to accept himself and channel his energy into success instead of
anger. I figured, what the hell? Turns out, he knew what he was talking
about. It worked for me. Now, with a degree in psychology under my belt
and some knowledge of just what that trick had been and how it worked, I
figured it was my turn to pass the trick along to Jason.


I can just think back to all my trophies that I have won over the years,
but nothing compares to sending old man Johnson to the crazy house. Oh,
the things I did to that loon--thinking back on it all now; I just want to
laugh. He tried to tell me that I will never make it in the real world.
Hell; I already signed a letter of intent to start as the new quarterback
for State. Who else would they want for the job? After that, I know
already that I will be signed by a professional team and be the MVP my
rookie season. As for this new guy, he won't last long. I mean, the guy
looks younger than I do. He says he just got out of college--how about I
send him packing his bags to live with old man Johnson at Nuthouse
University. The only thing is I have to figure out a way to set him off
really bad, but how?


He came in with two other guys in tow. I guess guys like Jason never go
anywhere without an entourage. These two--Zeke and Zach, I think--with
their dark hair and nearly identical chiseled features looked enough alike
to be twins. Maybe they were. What was obvious was the way they hung,
devoted as disciples, on Jason's every word.

"Hello, Jason," I said, nodding toward the chair by my desk. I turned
to Zeke--or was it Zach? --and said, "Uh, guys, Jason and I need to talk
about some things in private. Would you mind...?"

They looked at Jason, nervous at the idea of separation. Jason watched
me a second, then nodded to them. I could tell they didn't like it, but
Zeke and Zach filed out.

"And close the door as you leave, please," I said, making a point to
watch them, not Jason. Alone with Jason, who slouched in his chair in a
way half-sullen and maybe unintentionally sexy, I could practically feel
him studying me. As young guns go, he was cockier than most. I could
practically smell the testosterone coming off him in waves. Shit, had I
ever been that bad a few years ago when I was his age?

He was nervous. I could tell, watching him out of the corner of my eye,
by the way he twisted that expensive ring over and over on his finger. It
looked like most class rings, but obviously more expensive. The way that
white stone in it sparkled, it was probably a real diamond too--an
engagement-ring-sized hunk of rock that would have most women creaming in
their panties all the way to the altar.

All right. Objective 1: Establish an air of professionalism. Objective
2: Build and maintain rapport Objective 3: Establish the idea that change
is needed, and establish an expectation of change.

Officially turning my attention back to Jason, I said, "So ... I know
you're supposed to be at football practice, so I appreciate you making time
to see me. I want to talk about your behavior in class..."


I'm sitting there staring at Mr. Hanson, wondering what the fuck he
wants. It was pretty ballsy of him, telling my crew to get out, like he is
in charge or something. He has got to know that pisses me off. Well, we
both know I run this school, but he's just a substitute, so I'll let it
slide this once and hear him out.

I'm guessing he is going to tell me that he is going to exempt me from
the class. Just like Mr. McCullough in Wood Shop--hell, I've got an "A"
in that class, and I have not been in three months!

Huh; what the fuck? He wants to talk about my "behavior." What the fuck
is wrong with my behavior? This shit is starting to piss me off.

He's going, "Blah, blah blah, bad attitude. Blah, blah, blah, I'm on
your side." Yeah, right. I used to get that shit from my parents all the
time. They even made me see a shrink a couple of times. I put on a good
act and bluffed my way past his shit. See, my folks are rich enough they
can send me off to some boarding school shit or something, and that would
really fuck with the good ride I have got going here. So I play the game
now, and they are none the wiser.

And this Mr. "My friends call me Eric" Hanson. Jeez--where is he
coming up with this shit? Yeah, I'll just bet he's "on my side." I can
tell by the way he keeps sneaking these peeks at my crotch just which side
he is on. Yeah, I know I'm hot. I mean, damn, look at me. Mark Wahlberg
has got nothing on me. I've seen everyone checking me out walking in the
halls. I've got the clothes to match my body, and a cock that won't stop.
Seeing him looking at it starts me getting hard, and I spread my legs a
little to give him a good peek.

I just noticed something about Mr. Hanson. He's kind of cute...

Whoa--wait a minute here--what the fuck am I saying? I'm Captain of the
football team. I can't be thinking about guys. Do you even realize what
would happen to me? My popularity would drop worse than the stock market
during the Great Depression. He is cute with his wavy brown hair and sexy
blue eyes. Wake up, stupid! I'm not gay. I only messed around once with
Barry McCormick, the center of the team, but I was drunk and he was drunk
too. No one knows about it but us.

Huh? What? Yes, Mr. Hanson, I'm paying attention.

Now he was droning on and on about knowing this special trick. Blah,
blah, blah, help me focus. Blah, blah, blah, good tool for finding the
cause of the behavior and helping me make changes. I was like, uh-huh,
whatever, but I had not figured out his game yet, so I let him talk. When
was he going to get to the part about exempting me from class? I had
practice to get to!

My ring? Why was he asking to borrow my ring? Well, okay. I pulled it
off and handed it to him. It was a pretty nice one. A lot more expensive
than the class rings the rest of the class bought through school. My
parents had it custom-made at a jewelry place, and it showed. That stone
was real. I could tell Mr. Hanson was impressed.

He tied one end of this piece of string to it. I'm like, what the fuck?
He held it up by the other end. He started letting the ring sway back and
forth, just like that psychologist my folks made me see, and I'm like, Aha!
--Now I know what you're up to, Hanson.


Hanson: I'm going to let your ring swing just like this. Just let your
eyes follow it as it sways back and forth.

Jason: Uh, okay.

Hanson: Find some part of the ring and stare at it. Fix your eyes on

Jason: Okay ... but I-

Hanson: Shhh ... Take a few deep breaths. Just like this. Just keep
breathing deeply.

Jason: Breath ... deeply...

Hanson: That's right ... Listen to the sound of my voice. You will
find that your eyelids have a tendency to get heavy. Almost as if they had
a heavy weight attached to them.

Jason: Eyelids getting heavy...

Hanson: And the longer you stare at this, the more your eyelids get
heavy, and you blink, and they have a feeling like something is pulling
them down, as if they wanted to slowly close, and get drowsier and sleepier
and heavier.

Jason: Yes, getting heavier. Sleepier. You can feel it too? Heavier
... Sleepier ... and more relaxed...

Hanson: Yes. And you have a feeling as if they were slowly closing,
slowly closing, getting drowsier and more tired, maybe yawning a little if
you need to, and when your eyes finally do close, how good you'll feel.

Jason: Yes. Drowsier. More tired. How good it would feel to close
your eyes. Just take a deep breath and feel the relaxation flow throughout
your body

Hanson: Yes. Closing. So heavy. As if a weight were pulling down,
down, down, slowly closing them, getting harder and harder to see, and you
feel good. Very, very hard to keep them open ... feel that very soon ...
they will close tightly, almost tightly closing ... almost tightly
closing, tightly...

Jason: Eyes closing. Tightly. Tightly. So hard to keep them open,
isn't it? Let them close. Tightly closed and very relaxed.

Hanson: Yes.

Jason: That's right. Your eyes are tightly closed; you feel good; you
feel comfortable; you're relaxed all over. Just feel the relaxation flow
up and down your body making you heavier and heavier You are becoming very
heavy, aren't you?

Hanson: Yes ... I-

Jason: Good. Just let you drift and enjoy this comfortable relaxed
state. You will find that you head will get heavier. Maybe it nods
forward some, and you just let yourself drift in an easy, calm, relaxed


I opened my eyes when he told me to. I could tell something was
happening--my body felt so heavy and limp--but I couldn't think of what.

Jason stood up. He had the string in his hand now, the ring dangling
from it. He came around my chair, standing close. His crotch inches from
my face. Behind the fabric, something made an obscene bulge, stretching
down his hip. Some faraway part of me noted that he was nicely hung.

He told me, voice soft and low, to unzip him and take it out. Part of
me protested I shouldn't be doing this, not at school and not with a
student, but another part of me was aware of how hot Jason was. My hands
were moving by their selves. His pants came open. Gray boxers. My finger
slid into the slit of them and began to rub the shaft of his swollen cock.

"Take it out," he told me, voice heavy with lust. "Taste it."

So my hands opened his boxers and pulled out his dick. It was big, all
right. And throbbing. I touched my tongue to it, and that protesting part
of my head went quiet. No turning back now. My mouth opened and his cock
began sliding inside. I could taste his sweat. His cock in my mouth--he
said it would help relax me more, and I could feel it happening. I let it
happen, let him pump his dick gently in and out of my lips, picking up
speed, becoming urgent. My urgent need to suck his cock and make him feel
good. His hands gripped my head for leverage. His cock was swelling to
fill my open throat. Then he was gasping and jabbing it deep inside my
mouth, and he gave this strangled little cry, and I felt his cum spurt out
of his cockhead into my mouth, and I tasted the bitter saltiness, and I
swallowed when he told me to, because he told me to.

Then he was pulling out, telling me how good that was, what a good boy I
had been, and how sleepy I was getting again. And it was true. I couldn't
stop my eyes from closing.


He just sat there, staring into deep space. It was actually kind of a
turn on just looking how much his bright blue eyes were glazed over. I
mean, the guy looked like he was high on crack or something. I leaned over
to him and waved my hand in front of his face. No reaction... I reached
down to his pants and felt a large bulge throbbing in the gray dress pants
he had on that day. This is so fucking cool. I knew that I had done it.
The guy was totally hypnotized. God, what a fucking loser; he actually
thought he could hypnotize me; Jason Thorne! Who the hell did this guy
think he was?

I had an idea. I whispered into his ear that whenever he heard me say
the words "Zone out," he would return to this deep hypnotic state that he
was in and how much he would be a good boy if he did as I told him to. He
looked at me and said with a low quiet voice, "Yes." I continued on saying
that when he would awaken that he would only think that he had me
hypnotized and that it would be best to bring Zeke and Zach back so they
could have help studying and concentrating on their school work. The two
were identical twins, and they had been by my side since the beginning of
Junior High. They didn't know the only reason I've kept them around so
long is because they were very cute and fun to watch in the shower after
football practice. Plus I guess I like how devoted they are to me,
following me around all the time. I can just imagine it now--having Mr.
Hanson, Zeke, and Zach all under my control and ready to do my bidding.

Damn, I am good, but would you expect any less of me?

I had tutored both Zeke and Zach in the past, and they would be dumb
enough to fall for it. My plan was slowly coming full circle, and little
did any of them know what I had planned next.


I opened my eyes, blinking. What ... had just happened? I looked
around. There was Jason, sitting in his chair, eyes closed. I felt pretty
sure I had hypnotized him, just as I had planned. But some other part of
me seemed to remember it differently, as if maybe he had somehow hypnotized
me and I had given him a blowjob. I could almost still taste his cock.

I shook my head to clear it. That had to be wrong--had to be. No, I
must have hypnotized Jason. I mean, he was sitting right in front of me,
same as before, right?

I had an idea. It seemed to perfectly obvious.

"Jason," I said, "go get Zeke and Zach. Bring them back in here,

Jason stood up and went to the door. He gave an ear-splitting whistle
and called out, "Yo! Get in here!"

The twins followed him back inside like puppies. Not the brightest
guys, but they didn't have to be--what I had in mind for them didn't
require much brainpower, just obedience.

"Have a seat, guys," I said. They looked over at Jason, who gave them a
curt nod, and then dropped into the chairs facing me. "Jason and I have
been talking. We have an experiment we'd like you both to try. Don't
worry--it's very easy, and it won't take long. I think you'll find it kind
of fun."

Zeke and Zach were year-round sports stars--the kind who go from
football to basketball to baseball. They looked like the sort of affable,
not-too-bright jock who plays sports mostly because some coach once put a
ball in their hands and told them to play. That's probably why they hooked
up with Jason--he was probably good at telling them what to do.

From the way they carried themselves, I decided on an approach that
works well with children. I picked up the string and dangled Jason's ring
in the air in front of them. "See this?" I said. "You recognize Jason's
ring, don't you? Well, I'm going to use it to show you something very
special that you can learn, and with practice, you can get better and
better. The first thing I would like you to do is to look right at Jason's
ring. Just follow it with your eyes. Stare at it and concentrate all of
your attention on some special part of it, and as you do, just let yourself
get more and more relaxed. As you get more and more relaxed, your eyelids
will get heavier and heavier. As your eyelids get heavier and heavier,
your head will also get heavier and heavier. In a moment, your eyes will
close, so tightly, and your head will slowly drop forward. That's right.
Just let it happen. Eyes closing. Head already falling forward. That's
right, Zeke. Head falling all the way forward now. Very good, Zach.

"Now we can now talk about some other pleasant things that can help you
to become even more relaxed and comfortable. I would like you to imagine
yourself on the playing field. This is the best game you've ever played.
The sky is blue and clear, the clouds are just the way you like them, it's
just as cool and as warm a day as you would like it; just let it be the
kind of day you would want it to be.

"Today, at this game, you're wearing a very special pair of shoes. I
would like you to sit down on that blanket by yourself or with a friend.
You find out that this is a very special pair of shoes because you can run
as fast as you want, jump as high or as far as you want, almost like you're
able to fly. You can do anything you want the shoes to do. You are the
star, and you are in control. You can run anywhere you want, and do
anything you want to see. It is a wonderful feeling to run in your special
shoes, enjoying the game, enjoying the day, and being in control.

"Just enjoy what you are doing on this beautiful day, as you run along,
you might think for a moment--"

Jason's hand closed over mine, and he pulled the string and the ring
from me. I looked up at him, questioningly. Wasn't he supposed to be
hypnotized? What was he doing standing next to me?

Jason said, "Nice job, Eric. Now, zone out."

I blinked. I couldn't focus. Something was happening to me. I blinked
again, feeling suddenly so sleepy. My eyes closed again, and I couldn't
reopen them.

I opened my eyes, but I wasn't awake--I felt much too relaxed and
peaceful to be awake, more like sleepwalking must feel. I opened my eyes,
and I was kneeling. Kneeling in front of two crotches. men standing in
front of me. My hands reached up, and my eyes followed. dark hair and
chiseled features. Zeke to my left. Zach to my right. Both of them just
standing there, eyes closed, slight dreaming smiles on their faces. My
hands reaching for the buttons at the top of Zeke's shirt, then unfastening
their way down, slowly letting Zeke's smooth, muscular chest come into
view. My hands reached up again, and then Zach's chest was exposed as my
hands opened his shirt.

"That's right," Jason was saying. "She's the most beautiful girl in the
world, and she's hot for you, so hot, and she wants to give you a blow job,
and I bet you want it too, right? Right. It's so easy to get your cock
hard and ready for her, just waiting for her soft, warm lips t wrap around
your dick and give you the sweetest blow job ever."

My hands knew what they were supposed to do. They opened Zach's belt
and his black jeans, tugging them down a little, and then his blue-checked
boxers, freeing his stiff seven inches. Slight turn, and my hands were
doing the same thing to Zeke. Their bodies and cocks were identical twins
in almost every way but one: Zeke's cock curved slightly to his left, while
Zach's curved slightly to his right.

Hard cocks sticking out directly at me. My hand closed around Zach's.
My mouth zeroed in on Zeke's sleek cock, sucking him in unison as I jacked
Zach. After a couple of minutes, I swapped, jacking Zeke and blowing Zach.
My own cock was hard as a brick in my pants, but I couldn't spare a hand to
stroke it. I had to keep worshipping them, swapping back and forth on them
with my mouth and my hand.

Jason's voice had dropped to a smooth whisper. "Yeah--it feels so good,
doesn't it? I know you love this feeling, love feeling so good, love
following my suggestions without hesitation, knowing it's going to make you
feel good, just like you're feeling right now, knowing I'm responsible for
helping you feel so damn good. It feels so great, so fucking great, the
way she's blowing you. And I know you're feeling good, Zeke, so hot and
nearly ready to shoot. You too, Zach--it feels so good you can't hold back
much longer. And I know you're ready, so ready, ready to just take a deep
breath, and relax just a little more deeply, and listen to my voice just a
little more closely, and let that breath out slowly--that's right--and let
yourself start to cum. Yeah! That's right. Just concentrate on what
she's doing to you and on the sound of my voice, and let yourself start to
cum. cum now, Zeke. You too, Zach. cum now. cum hard."

And Zach's body bucks, and his cock accidentally pops out of my mouth
and slaps against my cheek, and I feel something warm and wet hit my ear
and neck and shoulder as he cums on me. And Zeke's dick, in my hand,
throbs one last time, and his load squirts out and sprays my hand and arm.

Their bodies shudder and sigh and start to cum down from their climaxes.
Jason's hand strokes the side of my head, almost as gently as a lover's,
and he says to me, "Great job, Hanson. Now zone out," and I'm sinking back
into blackness.


What can I say? I know I'm good, but hell--you morons didn't think I
was this good, did you? I told you I had a plan, and it's coming full
circle. I've got three people deeply hypnotized, ready to do my bidding,
but as always with me you have to keep it even. Three isn't a good number
for me. I need another to even it out, but who?

I know exactly who, and he would be dumb enough to fall for it. Hell,
no one is smarter than me. I'm Jason Thorne, king of this school. No one
can stop me.

You are all probably wondering who is going to be my next victim. Well,
let's see--he plays football with me, and he's as bright as a sack full of

Yeah, Barry McCormick, the center on the football squad, the one I told
you I had played around with once; that dumb ass deserves this.

I leaned over to Hanson, who was still starting into space, lost in the
sound of my voice. I whispered into his ear that he would want to
hypnotize Barry and help him concentrate on getting the snaps right to me.
Barry had been having problems getting them to me lately, and it would be
the perfect excuse to get Barry in here. He knew he was having problems so
it would work perfectly.

Looking over at Zeke and Zach, who were still out of it, I barked out
that the two of them were getting very hot and horny and would need to make
out with each other. The two glanced at each other with deeply glazed eyes
and began by groping each other's genitals. Both guys buckled and their
eyes rolled back in their heads. Zeke was the first to begin the make out
session by jumping on Zach and planting a major lip-lock on his twin
brother. The duo squirmed on the one chair. Zach's legs wrapped around
Zeke's and began moving up and down. Zeke had his hand up Zach's shirt,
pinching Zach's pecs and giving his chest a good massage. Finally, after
the two were breathing very heavily, I told the duo to freeze, and they
stopped dead like statues. Damn, I'm good, but of course would you expect
anything less from me?

Now to find a way to get Barry in here.


I opened my eyes again. Why was it so hard to clear my head?

Jason said to me, "You're still in a deep state of hypnosis, aren't
you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I replied, knowing somehow it was true.

"It's so easy to just act normally. Just act the way you usually do.
Now, come on--you have something important to do for me."

He turned and walked through a door. I followed. Where were we? Some
sort of locker room? The field house? Football equipment and uniforms
strewn everywhere. Practice must have been over. A few players milling
about. Jason greeted a couple of them and asked if they knew where someone
was. What was the name? Barry. Yes. Something important about Barry.

"He's in there," one of them said, pointing.

"Thanks," Jason said, and I followed him in that direction.

Showers. Barry was in the showers. That blond guy Jason was heading
toward must be Barry. Naked. Back to us. Oblivious.

Some other guy, younger, was showering on the opposite wall. Staring at
us--probably wondering what two fully clothed guys were doing walking into
the showers, especially since Jason had missed practice. Jason ordered
him, "Hey, Thompson. Beat it, will ya. Now!"

"Uh, sure," the younger guy said nervously. He did a two-second rinse,
shut off his shower, and scurried past us out of the showers.

"Yo--McCormick!" Jason called over the shower. "Get your thumb outta
your ass."

The blond turned our way. "Thorne! Where ya been?" He continued
rubbing soap under his right arm, nonchalant about his nudity. "Dude,
Coach is so fucking pissed at you for blowing off practice again."

"Let me deal with Coach, McCormick. I got you some help."


"Help. You know. You been snapping the ball all over the field. This
guy's gonna help ya fix it." Jason jerked his thumb my way.

Barry seemed to notice me for the first time. He said, "Huh?" Okay--so
we weren't dealing with a MENSA-class mind here. "How you going to do

"Hypnosis, dipshit," Jason said. "This is Mr. Hanson. He's, like, the
new psychology teacher and stuff."

First, I needed hand-to-hand contact. I offered my right hand. "Nice
to meet you, Barry."

He took the bait--unconsciously, he extended his right hand and we
shook. "Hypnosis?" he said. "Uh, nice to meet you too." Confused voice.
He didn't handle multitasking well. I could use that.

I didn't let go of his hand. "Yes, hypnosis. Are you ready to be

I held up the index finger of my free hand. Barry naturally looked at

"I'm going to hypnotize you in ... three"--giving our clasped hands a
pump with each number and moving my finger steadily closer to the center of
his forehead, noting how his eyes followed it--"two ... one"--and my
finger touched his forehead.

"Deep sleep," I commanded, giving our clasped hands a tug toward me and
down, using my other hand to tip his head forward and down. "Deeply
asleep. Deeply hypnotized now."

Barry's naked, wet torso sagged against my shoulder. Head limp. Eyes
closed. I was correct--he was a sucker for an instantaneous hypnosis


I couldn't believe it--Barry was as dumb as a bag of rocks. I never saw
anyone go out like a light so fast like he did. He was just lying on
Hanson's shoulder; eyes closed and limp as a rag. I overheard Hanson
instructing Barry to go get dressed. Barry just looked up, eyes glazed
over, and very erect walked over to his locker and got dressed. After he
was dressed, he came over to Hanson and me, and stood like a Marine in
attention. Hanson told him to follow us, and he did. As we walked out of
the locker room, I happened to notice that Barry's bulge was growing larger
and larger by the minute.

We finally got back to Hanson's room, and he stood there waiting on his
next command. I walked over and grabbed the large bulge building inside of
Barry's tight jeans. He moaned with pleasure as I looked over at Hanson
who seemed to drift back into the deep state of relaxation. I told Hanson
to go over and take off Barry's shirt and begin to suck on his nipples.
Hanson walked over and began to do as I said. I locked the door so none of
them could leave and walked down to the audio-visual room to borrow some
cameras the school newspaper used. Those zombie-fied dill smacks had no
clue what was coming next. They wouldn't know what hit them.

But then again, would you expect anything less from me than this?
Hello? I am Jason Thorne, after all.


The sound of the door closing--that snapped me out of it.

I remembered everything.

That little shit! Somehow, he must have known what I was doing--must
have keyed in to the way my old teacher used to relax me, and that's how he
managed to get me into that suggestible state! Well, fuck that little

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

Some blond guy standing beside me. What had Jason called him? Barry?
Standing there, eyes closed. Blissful expression on his face. Big boner
showing in the front of his pants.

Over there, the twins, Zeke and Zach. Right where he left them, naked,
wound up happily in each other's arms.

Okay, think--think! Gotta take that little fuckwad down a notch or two.

No telling how deeply these three were. No telling how close they were
to waking up. I guess Jason didn't realize subjects wake up if they don't
keep getting reinforcement.

A deepening exercise for them. Take them deeper. Keep them under
control. My control. Shut Jason out.

Good signs--they were responding to me, sinking deeper.

What's that sound? Someone outside, rattling the doorknob! I froze.

Jason's vice through the door. "Hey, Barry? Hanson? If you can hear
me, open the door."

Okay, so the jock wasn't as smart as he thought he was. I guess he
didn't realize locking the door locked him out, not us in.

Play along. Blank expression. I walked over and turned the knob.

"About time," he muttered, pushing past me, pulling the door shut again.

He had a camera around his neck. Nice one too. Borrowed from the
school paper or the annual staff, no doubt. Why would he need a camera?
Was this going to come down to a simple "blackmail photos" ploy? I guess
he wasn't as bright as he thought.

I could use that.

He put the camera on the my desk, fumbling with some settings. His back
to me. Probably didn't realize I was awake.

Clueless kid. Dangerous, but clueless. I had three inches on him in
height, maybe twenty points of muscle too. He was a football jock, but I
wrestled all through high school an college. Yeah, I can take him.

He's busy puzzling out something with the camera--don't strain your
brain, bright boy--and doesn't see me move. Standing close behind him.
Right arm--bam!--around his neck; left arm--bam!--coming around to clamp it
down. His head locked in the fold of my arm, squeezing my bicep against
his neck from one side, my forearm from the other side. Pull him back and
down hard so he can't get loose. Sleeper hold. Nighty-night.

That's it, pretty boy--struggle all you want. "Relax," I murmur into
his ear, and, "Sleep." He thrashes but can't break my grip. Ten seconds
in, he starts going limp. "That's right," I say again. "Just sleep." But
I don't let go until all the fight is out of him.

So Jason starts to come to. The look on his face is priceless. He's
naked. The moment he realizes that, his eyes get wide and his cock starts
to harden involuntarily. There' nothing he can do about it, and he
realizes that a second later when he finds his arms are tied behind the
chair, and his legs are tied to the chair legs. Yeah, all that discarded
clothing came in handy for something. His muscles are straining but the
bonds hold. His cock is fully hard, and the indignity only makes him

I'm grinning. If looks could kill, his eyes would be tearing me a new
asshole. But there's nothing he can say about it either--well, nothing
except, "Mmmmph, urrrmph, mmmrrrmmmph"--because he's got one of the twins'
boxer shorts wedged in his mouth.

Okay. He can't move. He can't talk. Sounds like an ideal situation to
me. Now we just have to make some progress.

I pulled up a chair in front of him. This time he can't pull any shit
on me. This time, I was going to keep at it until I get it right, even if
it took all damn night.

I picked up the string, his ring still suspended from the end, and I let
it sway gently in the air between us. "Relax, Jason," I cooed confidently,
letting my voice tell him what we both knew. "Keep your eye on your ring.
Just watch the ring. Struggle more if you want to--it's all right. It
just helps you relax more when you tire yourself out. That's it. Watch
the ring."


Huh? What the fuck is going on? I am naked, tied to a chair ...

Dammit, this is not cool at all.

Oh, shit--Hanson is in front of me with a nasty grin on his face. He
must have come out of his trance, but how? I don't understand. He must
have snuck up on me, but what about the others? What did he do with them?
He must have done something with them.

Man, that guy has a strong grip--I have never felt anything like that
ever in my entire life. He must be pretty strong because I have never been
taken out like this, ever. Hell; even Larry Larson, the linebacker from
Tech Prep, was not that strong.

Whoa--I feel dizzy. Shit, the fucker has my ring again. I have to get
it back and not let him use it on me. I have to break loose. I can't let
this happen to me. Can you imagine what he has planned for me? I know he
wants my body and all but, damn, doesn't everyone?

Wow, he's right--that is a really pretty light reflecting off the ring.
It's making me feel really sleepy. No, wait--this is all wrong--I can't
let this happen to me. I have to fight it, but the light is making me feel
really tired. I can't let this fuck-nut get to me, especially if he wants
to get me back for what I did to him.

But my eyelids ... so heavy. Just want to sleep right now. Can't help
it. That light ... so relaxing ...


So ... I could tell you that everyone saw the change in Jason
immediately. I could tell you that, thanks to my guidance, he shaped up
and never got in trouble again. Or I could tell you we all lived happily
ever after. None of that would be true, but I could say it.

What I will say is this: once Jason and I worked past a few trust
barriers, he proved to be a very good subject.

Everything that happened next didn't happen at the school. Much too
public. Too much risk. And I needed that job.

Let's just say that, later that night, they all felt compelled to come
by my house, and they didn't seem to wonder about how they knew my address.

The twins, Zeke and Zach, got there first. They were so eager for it,
they practically put themselves back into trances while waiting for me to
open the door. Now, there were two minds just made for hypnosis. I parked
them on the couch. Getting them back into a relaxed, cooperative state was
easy, and they were showing major woodies in their pants almost from the
moment I started leading them down.

Another soft knock on my door. I told the twins to take a little nap.
The knocker was Barry. Looking a little confused as I ushered him
inside--maybe he wasn't really sure why he was there. His eyes really
widened when he saw the twins slouched on the couch, seemingly deep in
sleep. Hell, there was no way he could miss the hard-ons making tents in
the crotches of their pants.

And before I had to do anything, there was another knock. That would be
Jason, I thought, and it was. "Heeeey there, Mr. Hanson," he drawled with
a grin as he came bopping into the room, full of confidence and energy, as
if showing up at a teacher's house after hours was something he did all the
time. Well, maybe that was how he kept getting good grades.

He and Barry seemed surprised to see each other. For the first time the
question of what he was doing there seemed to enter Jason's mind. And then
he saw the Zeke and Zach, and his jaw half-dropped before he remembered he
was supposed to be so cool.

"Jason," I said forcefully, "hand me your ring, please."

"My ...?" He seemed to have forgotten that he was still wearing that
ring. But his hand found it--"Uhm, sure, Mr. Hanson"--and he pulled it
off and handed it to me.

I took it from him and held it up into the light, turning it, letting
the stone catch the light. His eyes latched onto it. Barry's too. Yeah,
their subconscious minds recognized it and responded. "That's right,
boys," I said, and the inevitable began to happen.

The twins were easy. When I told them to get naked, they had their
clothes off practically as soon as I got the order out of my mouth. They
were already so hot, so hard, that all I had to do was make them point
their hard-ons at each other and let them go at it. They obeyed with

Jason and Barry took a little longer. They both were resisting a
little. I love a challenge. "Yeah," I coaxed them, "it feels so good to
relax again, doesn't it? Just like this afternoon. So relaxed. Returning
to that deep, relaxed state of hypnosis." Barry's eyelids were starting to
sag and flicker. Jason's too. I kept on: "I know it feels good to relax,
and I know you really enjoy that feeling, following my suggestions, knowing
it's going to make you feel so relaxed and peaceful, just like you're
feeling right now. Yeah, that's it."

In the end, neither of them put up that much resistance. Remember how I
said that one of my teachers back when I was in high school taught
something to help me break out of being an out-of-control kid? Well, the
lesson he taught me was this: psycho-sexual control tactics are easy,
especially on horny eighteen-year-olds, and hypnosis is a good tool. Get
them into a suggestible state. Take control of their sexual release. Let
them know you're responsible for helping them feel so damn good. Pretty
soon, they'll do whatever you want just to feel that feeling again, even
without being in a trance. Taking control of this bunch was easy.

I'm still in control of them today. I'd like so say that, from that day
on, Jason was a different person. I'd like to say he never had any more
trouble in school. But that wouldn't be the way it happened. He was still
a cut-up and a clown. He was respectful in my class, mostly because he
really did become devoted to me--make an eighteen-year-old cum a few times
and he'll think you're Jesus--but that never really transferred to his
other classes. His grades improved, but that was mostly because a little
hypnosis to help his focusing made him want to get his homework done. It
was an uphill battle, since he was pretty resistant to the idea of homework
and studying in general, and we had to keep working on it. Still, the more
I got to know him, the more I saw there was a genuinely nice kid underneath
that macho bluster crap.

At school, outside of my class, Jason is definitely in charge. He
sweeps through the school--with Barry, Zeke, and Zach trailing him like
devoted cronies--and no one stands in his way. But when they come over to
my place after school, after practice, after their games, all that control
becomes mine, and my word is law. Their parents don't mind; they think I'm
a good influence. I'm an "influence," all right--if they only knew!
Still, I think he really has come to like me--they all have--but I think my
friendship with Jason might just turn into something special.

Like I said, I could tell you a bunch of "happily ever after" bullshit.
Truth is, it's still too soon to tell. But we're working on it.


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