Thorne in His Side Hanson 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. Jason 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. Hanson 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. 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? Hanson 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..." Jason 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. Unison 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 it. 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 state... Hanson 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. Jason 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. Hanson 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, please." 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.

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 "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. Jason 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 hammers. 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.
Hanson 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." "Huh?"
"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 that?" "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 hypnotized?" I held up the index finger of my
free hand. Barry naturally looked at it. "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 method. Jason 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. Hanson 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 fuckhead! 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 madder.
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." Jason 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 ... Hanson 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 gusto. 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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