By Hyptrance published May 13, 2019

A well-known supernatural being decides to intervene in a case of gay-bullying at a prep school

Disclaimer: All characters are 18 or older, whether stated explicitly or not; you must be as well, in order to have permission to read this. This is fiction, so no resemblance to real people is intended or may be inferred. It deals with the topics of gay sexual activity and mind-control. If these are forbidden in your community, or distasteful to you, then please go elsewhere. You may download this as you wish for your personal enjoyment, provided the story is not disseminated to any minors (as defined by your community), but you may not re-post it anywhere without the author’s permission. Finally, please consider writing similar stories of your own. I like to read as well as write.

Mischief by Hyptrance

“You’re fast asleep, and nothing can wake you until I decide to wake you. You’ll do whatever I tell you to do. Isn’t that right, Bobby?”

“Yes. Sir…” The hypnotized blankness of the handsome teenager’s face and the wide, unfocused stare of his arresting blue eyes made him look younger and more innocent than his eighteen years.

“Close your eyes and fall even deeper under my spell.” At my command he slumped in his chair, as limp as an abandoned puppet, the last in a row of six high school boys, all equally handsome, all equally helpless, that I had collected during the hypnosis show I’d presented the previous evening at their all-night after-prom party.

Me? Well, that’s a long story. Because I’ve been around for a very long time. To look at me, you’d place me in my mid-twenties just out of college, dark-blond hair, hazel eyes, well-toned but unexaggerated body, nice face (not model-pretty, but attractive). Not that any of that particularly matters, since I can make myself look any way I please at any time I choose. These days I’ve been calling myself Rob Fineman. The cleverer among you may be able to work out some of my other, better-known identities. The hypnotist-shtick is merely a cover-story to appease the, I guess you’d call them “Witches’ Council”. They’re a rule-keeping group of supernatural busybodies that work to keep the rest of the world unaware that we magical folk exist. I suppose I can’t blame them entirely; after all, you can only watch so and so many of your kin and colleagues burned, hanged, or pressed to death before you become a wee bit sensitive about it. But they do make it difficult for me to have fun, and fun is what I live for: partying, sex with gals or guys, the good life, and, above all, mischief! So hypnotism. If I simply and openly put a spell on someone, the Council is on me like a duck on a tasty beetle. But, put it in the context of a hypnosis stage-show… well, hypnotic trance is a normal, recognized, non-magical human state, so non-magical people easily mistake what I’m doing for the genuine article and don’t get the wrong, or, in my case, right idea. Of course I’m still using magic. Real hypnosis isn’t reliable enough or powerful enough to guarantee the results I want. Besides, I have found that the process amuses me. It’s a bit like playing a fish on the line to watch my victim gradually rather than instantly fall under my spell, even as he may try to resist.

Of course I did have an agenda for these boys. I always do. Random mischief is just plain silly. But when the pranks are focused to punish or teach, it’s delicious! And that brings me to young Matthew Geller. Matthew (never Matt) is a sad, gay computer-nerd band-geek. He’s small, skinny (okay, the basic body isn’t bad, but there’s no muscle development), with mousy-brown hair and a face that could be decent, but the nerd-glasses and perpetual hangdog expression spoil it. He wears styleless clothes, sports a pocket-protector, plays the flute, and might as well have been born with a ‘kick me’ sign taped to his backside. And the six spellbound young bucks arrayed before me now, seniors, stars of the lacrosse team, and, together with their spoiled, mean-girl girlfriends, constituting the ruling clique at ___________ Preparatory Academy, were committed to the kicking. I had decided that there was going to be a shake-up in the prep-school social order before Matthew, who was already tending in that direction, did something desperate to himself. Young Mr. Geller was about to acquire some groupies.

Two Nights Ago

“So, you guys gonna try to get hypnotized?” Mischievous Zach Fowler looked eagerly at his comrades and their dates, as they all sat together in the school auditorium waiting for the show to begin. The girls all looked decidedly skeptical. Risk disarranging their hair? Not likely!

Bobby Christiansen shifted uneasily. “No way! I don’t want some crazy showman messing with my head and making me make a fool of myself!” Chad Kendall, his pretty, boyish countenance looking even more apprehensive, nodded in agreement.

“Oh c’mon, you wimps! Anyone knows hypnotism can’t make you do something you aren’t willing to do. Hell, this clown probably can’t get us into a trance anyway. We’ll just have fun pretending, and then make a fool out of him instead. Who’s with me?”

“I’m in,” drawled Jeremy Stevens, son of a Texas oil baron, and still addicted to the cowboy style, incongruous as it was in a New England prep school.

“Me too,” said Jake Bold, and Kent Morgan, the last of the six teammates grinned and flashed a thumbs-up.

“Fine,” Zach’s girlfriend Megan Conners huffed, adding tartly, “We’ll just stay here, thank you very much. You boys go have your little macho staring contest with the magic man and we’ll see who laughs last!” Megan liked Zach, and he was sexy as hell, but his perpetual wild streak was beginning to tweak her last nerve. Startled by the unexpected acid in her tone, Zach turned to stare at her, but before he could respond, the lights dimmed, the hypnotist walked out onto the stage and the show began.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. My name is Rob Fineman, and for the next hour or so I will be taking some of you who are adventurous, intelligent, and willing, on a marvelous exploration of the wonders of your mind.” I looked out at the sea of young faces expectantly, immediately spotting my six chosen victims, as well as noting the unsurprising absence of Matthew, who would never have been secure enough to bring another guy to the prom, even if he had found one willing to go.

Zach had snorted audibly at the hyperbole of my opening, which gave me an excuse to single him out. “You, young man,” I gestured to him, “I sense some disbelief. Care to come up here and discuss it?”

“Sure,” the boy answered, although with somewhat less bravado than he’d been displaying to his friends. He rose from his seat and trotted up the steps onto the stage. By the time he got there his poise and his cocky grin had both returned to him.

“So you’re skeptical about hypnosis, Mr. …?”

“Zach. Zach Fowler. And no, I’m not skeptical about hypnosis. I’m just too well-informed to buy into your hype about it.” An entitled rich-kid, in a school full of entitled rich-kids, he probably had no inkling of just how rude he was being. Ah, well, ‘Pride goeth before…’ you know the rest.

“Well, Zach Fowler, shall we put it to the test?” Without waiting for his response, I shot my enchantment at him, assuring his helpless compliance, even though he wasn’t yet aware of it. I held up my finger. “Look at my finger, Zach… follow it with your eyes… focus all of your thoughts on my finger and on my voice… nothing else… only my finger and my voice…” As I went through the spiel I was moving my finger slowly back and forth, Zach’s eyes slavishly following its path. “When my finger touches your forehead, your eyes will close, your body will relax completely, and you will fall into a deep hypnotic sleep.” The boy stiffened slightly, as though aware of his peril and trying to escape it, but his eyes remained locked on my fingertip. I slowly brought it to his forehead and Zach collapsed into my arms, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, helplessly in my power. I brought him back to a more or less standing position, the feel of his fit, hard body in my embrace a delicious promise of the fun to come. “Zach, I want you to become a statue… standing straight… stiff as marble… aware of nothing until I touch your shoulder.” I left him, now standing rigidly at attention, his eyes open in a blank unseeing stare, and turned back to the audience. “I believe that settles that. Now would be the time for those of you who would like to share your classmate’s adventure to come up on stage. Please leave one chair empty for Mr. Fowler.” There was the customary rush for seats, although perhaps not as boisterous as it might have been before my little demonstration. Among those who were now seated expectantly on the stage were Jeremy, Jake, and Kent, although it was pretty clear from their body language that the fear of losing face was their primary reason for not abandoning their now-spellbound ringleader’s mischievous plot. I went down the line of teenagers shaking hands and ostensibly learning names even though I already knew them. I was also casting spell after spell to ensure the desired results, both for those I wanted to control and for those with whom I wished to appear to fail (I still needed the pretext to dismiss a few of the kids on stage so as to be able to call up Chad and Bobby, and, to avoid being too obvious, a couple of others at random).

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, please sit up straight in your chairs, feet flat on the floor, hands palms up in your laps, and focus your eyes on the blue light.” The auditorium darkened, a small frosted blue light-bulb that I had arranged to be hung from the proscenium illuminated, and I began the induction. I won’t bore you with a word-by-word version. If you’ve ever attended a hypnosis stage show, you get the idea. Of course, I enjoyed it immensely, especially watching first Jake, then Jeremy, and finally Kent, unexpectedly strong-willed, succumb to the enchantment and fall under my sway. After all of the kids who were going to be were hypnotized/ensorcelled, I made my way down the row, issuing deepening commands and dismissing with thanks the four - three boys and one girl - whom I had made certain would not go under, leaving four (well, five counting Zach’s, who was still maintaining his impression of a cast-iron lawn jockey) empty chairs.

I gestured theatrically at the empty seats. “It seems we have room for a few more volunteers.” I called for the lights to come back up and then looked out at the room, at the same time winging two more enchantments, one at Chad and one at Bobby. I think I might have acquired Chad even without the magic spell, his glazed expression suggesting that he’d already gone into trance the normal way – he must be very suggestible. “I know that some of you who were paying close attention are now also deeply hypnotized,’ I announced, “Whether you realize it or not. Those of you who are under my control will now stand up!” As though there were springs in their seats, Bobby, Chad, and five other teens leapt to their feet, Chad looking as mindlessly peaceful as a sleepwalker, Bobby looking frankly horrified, the rest in varying degrees of surprise/blankness/amusement. I pointed to one of the girls. “Come up on stage and take a seat. As soon as you’re seated you’ll fall fast asleep and follow all my suggestions.” She immediately obeyed, slumping into one of the empty chairs, out like a light. I then pointed to Chad, giving the same instructions, and, like a good little soldier he followed suit. Another girl, and then I pointed to Bobby. “Tell me your name, young man.”

“B-Bobby. Bobby Christiansen.”

“You want to come up and join us on stage.” I didn’t phrase it as a question.

“I… I want to come up and… and j-join you on stage.” Bobby’s expression still seemed to suggest exactly the opposite, but, at my command, his legs marched him stiffly up to a seat on stage, and he joined his classmates in helpless slumber. I released the remaining three kids in the audience, unfroze Zach and ushered him to the one remaining vacant place, and commenced the entertainment.

Again, no need for a blow-by-blow. This was a high school crowd, so I couldn’t do anything too risqué (and certainly nothing like the games I had planned for later!), but, since absolute obedience was guaranteed by the magic, allowing no issues about who might or might not be willing to do what, I was able to make them all do some very funny stuff, sure to give their friends plenty to tease them about later. By the end of the evening I had made sure that all of the guys had lost their shirts, much to the delight of the girls. I suckered Zach and Kent into slow-dancing together until I snapped my fingers ’waking’ them, causing them, blushing mightily, to spring apart as though scalded. I also had Jeremy, rigid a plank (he proved as good at immobility as Zach had been), stretched out between two chairs, with Chad sitting on his bare tummy like a kid on a swing-set. I can safely say that the show was a rousing success.

Afterwards, as I always do, I took the hypnotized kids off stage one-by-one to ‘remove’ the suggestions or, as in the case of my chosen six, to administer the next set. Zach was last as he had been first. “Zach, when I count to three, you’ll be awake again." (Of course he’d still be enchanted, which is quite a different matter!) “You won’t remember anything about being on stage from the time you started looking at my finger. Let your friends tell you about it. But you will remember one thing and one thing only: that you loved being hypnotized. You’re going to beg me for chance to experience it again. Now, go back to your friends and find me again later tonight. One, two three…” Just as the other boys had done, Zach, looking a bit bemused, wandered away without a backward glance.

“Well, so much for you not getting hypnotized!” Megan was still giggling over Zach’s public display.

“What the hell? I wasn’t hypnotized, I was just playing along!” Zach tried to sound injured. “I knew exactly what I was doing!”

“Okay, fine! You weren’t hypnotized,” Megan snapped exasperatedly. “So… you and Kent are really an item then? I never would have guessed. Where shall we send the gifts? And which of you is the bride?” Kent and Zach nearly dislocated their necks in a double-take at each other, but Sarah, Kent’s date, was also nodding solemnly, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a grin.

Zach sighed. “Okay, you got me. I don’t remember a damn thing!” he admitted ruefully. “What the hell was I doing?” The girls, all of them laughing a chattering at once, filled their amnesic boyfriends in on the hilarity in which they had unknowingly been the stars.


During the previous evening, all six of the young men I’d instructed to do so, had sought me out as commanded, dying to be hypnotized again. So, at around ten the next morning, the buzzer for my city penthouse began to sound at regular intervals announcing the arrival of my new toys. Soon the boys, dressed in their prep-school-day-off drag (tight blue-jeans and disco-cowboy western shirt for Jeremy, and button-downs and khakis for the rest), and having each ponied up their $100 “appointment fee” (pocket-change to these rich brats, but enough of a charge for them to find it plausible), were all seated comfortably around my living room, eagerly waiting for me to begin.

“Gentlemen,” I said, “Let’s get started. Since you have all now been hypnotized recently, this shouldn’t take as long as before. Last night we started with Zach, so this morning, maybe someone else? Kent, how about you?” I thought this would be the best plan, as previously he had been the strongest-willed and most resistant to both hypnotism and enchantment. I had even wondered at the time whether there might possibly be some small amount of faery blood in his ancestry. Certainly his rich blond mop, blue-gray eyes, and beautiful patrician facial features didn’t rule it out. I’d prepared a little something extra this time to overcome his “immune” reaction: an enchanted crystal on a pendulum. As soon as he looked at it he’d be mine, faery genes or not.

“Kent, I want you to focus your eyes on this pendulum.” I dangled it in front of him. The boy’s eyes locked on it, and his mind fell open as easily as a whore’s legs. I expanded my awareness for a brief second to check his DNA, just out of curiosity, and, sure enough, there it was: great-great (and several more greats) grandmama back in Olde England had taken a little walk on the wild side with someone of the faerie court; going by the boy’s looks, my money was on that tomcat of a blacksmith, Wayland. For appearances’ sake, I talked sleep a bit longer, watching with satisfaction as Kent’s eyelids fluttered and drooped, finally falling shut, his head fell forward to rest chin-on-chest, and his athletic body lost muscular control and melted into the chair. “Very good, Kent. Continue to relax and go deeper, ignoring everything around you until I call for you.”

I then moved on to the next and, one by one, placed each boy under my control. It being the second layer of bewitchment in less than twenty-four hours, the spell exerted a power exponentially more profound. This was the point at which, had it been my pleasure, I could have given them asses’ heads, or turned them into toads. Their minds were so completely enslaved that their bodies would have had no choice but to follow, mind over matter. But that definitely wasn’t the plan. Who’d want to fuck a toad?!

And this is where you came in.

I recaptured everyone’s mesmerized attention. “Boys, you are all getting erections. You are uncontrollably sexually aroused. However, you can’t cum unless I command it, but you will remain perpetually on the edge of orgasm, no matter what happens, until I do allow you to cum.” Immediately baskets in jeans and khakis began to swell and tent, outlining each spellbound preppie’s equipment. While none of them appeared to be a candidate for one of the apocryphal Smithsonian pickle jars, nonetheless, it was clear that nature had supplied them all quite adequately.

I was standing nearest to Jeremy’s chair, so I approached him. “Stand up, Jeremy.” He bounced to his feet and stood as though at attention. I’m going to undress you, Jeremy. Cooperate, but otherwise don’t move unless I order it.” (I love unwrapping the package.) Jeremy stood there, to all appearances as oblivious as a Buckingham Palace guard trained to ignore all distractions, while I pulled open the snaps on his western shirt, eased it from his shoulders and down his arms, and then threw it aside. The young Texan’s upper body was awe-inspiring: hard, sculpted muscles, tender little pink nipples already contracted with excitement, very little hair - only small tufts at the armpits and nipples, and a, very discreet for such a dark-haired boy, treasure trail leading down into his jeans. I undid his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped said jeans, and pulled them, together with his designer boxer-briefs, down to his cowboy-boot-tops, revealing strong, shapely legs (well, all of the boys are lacrosse players) and a handsome hard-on that sprang up as eager as a dog begging for a treat. I gave it a few encouraging licks, causing Jeremy’s knees to tremble, and then ordered him back into his chair so that I could finish removing his boots, jeans, underwear and socks. I left him sitting, blankly entranced, gloriously naked and hard, and moved on to the next.

Chad and Jake were seated, or rather slumped, side-by-side on my sofa. “Jake, Chad, on your feet.” Hearing was obedience. “When I snap my fingers you will be strippers hired to give us a show. It won’t matter that everyone here is a guy because all of you are gay.” There was an almost palpable ripple through the air as I cast that enchantment on the helpless lads. I snapped my fingers and the two boys sprang into action, bumping and grinding, thrusting their hard-ons against the already damp spots at the front of their khakis. Jake danced over to the oblivious, already naked Jeremy, lap-dancing as he removed his shirt and then pulled the t-shirt off over his head. Chad had also bared his chest, but remained in the center of the floor. Both young men had beautiful torsos, well-toned, well-tanned, and smooth. Indeed, chad was so smooth that it can’t have been entirely nature, but Jake did have a few sparse hairs at the usual spots. However, since he was a blond, he didn’t really look any hairier than his manscaped comrade. The two boys dance together, twerking obscenely as they traded off stripping each other’s lower halves. I retired them back to the sofa to finish pulling off the remainder of their clothes, and then left them there, once again passively slumbering, leaning lazily together, their cocks still rigid and pulsing.

Next was faery-boy Kent. “It’s time for your physical, Morgan,” I barked. “Strip to your shorts.” Kent bolted to his feet and began to disrobe. His expression was, in spite of the trance, very uneasy (well, the last thing these pampered trust-fund babies expect to face is military conscription – daddy will always pull strings to get them out of it, unless, for some reason, they actually want to enlist – so this had to be one of the preppie’s darkest nightmares). I felt him up a bit, under the guise of “examining” this or that – very nice, athletically-toned body, and, like Jake, the other blond, very little body hair. Then I ordered him to drop his shorts. Well, well, well! It seems great-etc.-grandma Morgan’s little liaison had bequeathed her great-etc.-grandson one further unexpected faery boon. There was just the faintest hint of a glamour on his cock. It wasn’t really bigger or prettier than those of other young men, but it carried a magical appeal. Those of us with the blood and the sight wouldn’t be fooled, but ordinary mortals, seeing it, would definitely find themselves really, really inclined to go to bed with Kent if he wanted them to. I’ll bet the kid got laid all the time, never realizing that it wasn’t just because he was a slick operator. I finished my inspection - “Turn your head and cough” – nice, heavy balls; “Bend over and spread ’em” – clean, pretty-pink asshole - and then sent him back to his chair and to slumberland.

That left Zach and Bobby. Eeny, meeny…

Bobby looked so cute and innocent in his sleep (at only 5’6’’ and baby-faced, he was by far the youngest-looking), that it gave me an idea. “Bedtime, Bobby. Let Daddy help you get ready for bed.”

“’Kay, Daddy,” he mumbled sleepily.

[ Oh, get that look off your face! I know all the stories about us faery-folk abducting children and what we supposedly do with them. Slanderous lies! We certainly do take a human child now and then, but always and only to rescue it from abusive parents, incurable illness, or other dire circumstances. As a matter of fact, if I hadn’t anticipated how much more fun it would be to solve his problems first hand, I might have spirited Matthew away to Faerie before he would be driven to harm himself. We don’t use children for sex! We cherish them, and nurture them as carefully as the most doting parent. I remind you that Bobby Christiansen, in reality, is eighteen years old, as well as amply guilty of the misdeeds for which I planned to punish him. And before I would so much as touch the tip of one of his fingers for any lascivious purpose, he’d be back in that mental age! Chill! ]

I knelt and removed Bobby’s loafers and socks… such pretty feet! Then, item-by-item, I helped him out of the rest of his clothes, Bobby all the while limply cooperative, just like a half-asleep child. The whole process awoke such tender feelings in me that I almost considered freeing him. I had to remind myself quite sternly of how actively he’d been taking part in the ongoing pillory of his hapless classmate Matthew before I could put the starch back in my resolve.

Just as I was pulling his underpants down and off, he said in his sleepy little-boy voice, “My peepee feels funny. And it’s hard. Why is my peepee hard, Daddy?”

I swallowed the guffaw that tried to burst out, and then said, as soothingly as possible, “Because you’re enchanted, Bobby. Now, sleep!” I left him curled up in the oversize armchair, cute as a kitten, with that hard ‘peepee’ sticking up like a flag.

“Zach, stand up.” The sexy dark-haired young man promptly rose to his feet, his handsome face zombie-blank, a world away from the cocky, mischievous smirk of the boy who had been so sure he wouldn’t be hypnotized. “Undress me, Zach, and every time you bare a new part of my body, you will feel a compulsion to kiss and caress it.” Let the games begin! I was really looking forward to all of this. As I’ve mentioned, I’m fine sexually with either men or women, but, as it happens, in this particular instance it had been an unusually long time since I’d played around with handsome guys. Young Zach, it turns out, is a great kisser. Before even touching any of my clothing, he planted one on my mouth, tender, yet compelling, all soft lips and teasing tongue. Okay, his breath was a little I’ve-been-asleep-for-a-long-time stale, but it only took the briefest magical tweak and it became as fresh as a breeze over a meadow of spring flowers. His supple, smooth lips then worked their way down my throat and onto my chest as, button-by-button, he undid my shirt. I was dressed much the same as he was – button-down shirt and khakis – although I hadn’t bothered with any socks or underwear, and wore slippers instead of shoes; it wouldn’t take him long to complete his assignment. The kissing remained stellar: the perfect combination of lips, tongue, and occasionally even the gentlest application of teeth, as he maneuvered around my nipples, my navel, down my somewhat ticklish belly. This all required a bit of finesse on his part since I, unlike he and his comrades, have plenty of masculine fur (where do you think the legends of satyrs originated?). His kisses left little damp swirls wherever he placed them. Zach undid my belt, unzipped my trousers and lowered them, freeing my by now rock-hard organ. Even his mesmerized stare widened ever so slightly at the sight of my cock. I daresay that, were I ever so careless as to invite my own demise, I would be a candidate for one of those pickle jars! But the compulsion held him fast, so he manfully did his best to kiss and suck my tool as deeply as its size and his mouth would permit. The effect was so stimulating that I pulled out of his mouth and allowed myself to shoot a small load right into his waiting face.

“You love the feel and smell of cum on your face,” I commanded. “It’s sexy and utterly hypnotic. Rub it around your lips and nose; rub it into your skin; revel in it!” The boy groaned with pleasure as he obeyed. [You’re thinking “Game over”? Please! Yours truly never needs to worry about stamina or recuperation periods. I can have sex for days on end if I want to (and I often do). The term ‘priapic’ was coined to describe me!]

Having finished his rapturous encounter with my jizz, Zach returned to the task of undressing me, kissing his sticky way down the inside of my thighs and, after removing my slippers, sucking my toes, kinky and delightful.

I stood hypnotized Zach back up and performed essentially the same ritual on him. It took longer since he was wearing both t-shirt and briefs, as well as socks in his expensive cross-trainers. And, of course, I didn’t permit him to orgasm, although the gasps and moans that issued from him as I sucked his handsome tool suggested that nothing short of magic would have been able to control him.

As Zach, now mother-naked as the rest of us, stood panting from his “ordeal”, I roused the other five boys from their deep, spellbound slumber to join him. Now they all stood in a row, handsome, hard, and ready, and all helplessly enslaved. Time for the main event. I paused briefly to plan. Each of the young fellows would have to gain a good deal of sexual experience and technique, since none of them had experimented with any gay sexual acts up til now (yes, I knew that for a fact – we supernaturals can always tell). So they all had to try both cocksucking and buttfucking, as both top and bottom. And I had to make sure that I deposited a full load in each boy’s ass in order to render the charms permanent. Otherwise, powerful though they are, they would eventually fade over time. That reminded me to modify the size of my mighty weapon; an asshole is not nearly as elastic as a pussy. I mapped out who would be doing what to whom, and in what order, so as to avoid conflicts and bottlenecks. Then I gave each boy his individual marching orders.

The resulting orgy on my enormous bed was everything you would expect (or maybe not, as I assume you’ve probably never taken part in a sorcerous sexual free-for-all). It was a pulsing tangle of hard, toned bodies writhing together; voracious, sensual lips, wicked tongues, clever, exploring hands roaming everywhere; hypnotized minds helplessly emptied of all thoughts save one: sex, sex, and more sex. The energy, imagination, and quickly mastered skill they brought to the table were quite impressive. Even without my magical coercion these boys were true sexual athletes. And I held sway in the middle of it all, watching and reveling in their spellbound sport, fucking with gusto each enslaved youth when it became his turn to mount my lap and receive his ‘annointing’. When I finally triggered their long-delayed orgasms, the chorus of howls of release would certainly have drawn every cop in a six-block radius had my penthouse not been completely sound-proofed.

And, if I had to rely on a laundry or dry cleaner’s instead of magic for the clean-up, I’d probably never be allowed in either establishment ever again. As it was, a snap of my fingers instantly restored physical order, and I sent the boys, still completely in hypno-zombie mode back to the living room to reassemble their clothing.

“Okay, guys, pay close attention,” (like they had any choice). “I’m about to show you your new god.” I waved my hand and a simulacrum of Matthew Geller appeared, complete with nerd-glasses, pocket-protector, cheap clothes, and hang-dog expression. “As you can see, your god doesn’t look very happy, does he? That’s because you’ve all been so mean to him. But you now realize that was because you were jealous of his bravery in admitting he’s gay, and ashamed of your cowardice in trying to hide your own sexuality. That stops now! You all know you are gay, and you can admire his courage, his brains, and his talent. You are free to fall head-over-heels in love with him, and I command you to do so immediately!” I took stock of the effect of my words. All six boys were now staring at Matthew’s image with lovesick puppy-eyes, like tween girls at a boy band. I continued, “Of course, you accept that Matthew is more than enough for all of you. There can be no jealousy or competition among you in the worship of your idol. You are all healthy, sexy guys, and even though he will always be your greatest desire and first choice for a sexual partner, you will always place his satisfaction first. You will accept and applaud his choice, and if it is not yourself, you will be perfectly content to make do with enjoying one or more of your buddies here, as you are all handsome and desirable young gay men.” I paused to let that sink in. (I had no idea whether Matthew would prove to be a monogamous sort, or whether he would enjoy being alpha-dog to a whole pack for a while, but this covered both contingencies.)

“Now, it’s likely that it will take a while to gain Matthew’s trust, since you’ve all treated him so badly, but you can’t give up. You can see how beautiful he could become. Matthew is a scholarship boy; he can’t afford fashionable clothes. But you all can. If you help him to dress better, you can make him look less like an outsider at ________ Academy. You can treat him to good haircuts. You can teach him how to work out, and give him the support and encouragement he will need to stick to it until he has put some healthy muscle on his skinny frame. Most of all, you can make him feel loved and accepted, so that he learns to meet the world straight-on with head held high. Do you understand?”

Each boy answered the affirmative with all the solemnity and fervor of a Knight of the Round Table pledging service to Royal Arthur.

“Very good. You will remember nothing that has happened here today. You will not remember that you were ever here. The only experience you have ever had with hypnotism or with me was at the show last night. But you will know yourself as you now are, and remember what you must do!” I waved my hand again and my penthouse was empty, the Matthew simulacrum dissipated, and the six real boys instantly returned to their prep-school dorm, no one in the world other than myself with any inkling that they’d ever been away. And all without tripping the sensors of the Council!


Matthew Geller sat eating his lunch all by himself. Well, that was nothing new. No one ever joined him at his table, and most of the kids had made it pretty obvious early on that he wasn’t very welcome at theirs. Not for the first time, the boy wondered just how much longer he could stand being this lonely. Lost in his brooding thoughts, he didn’t sense anyone’s approach until a boy plumped into the seat beside him. Startled, Matthew drew back, literally flinching when he registered that the boy was Zach Fowler, ring-leader of his worst tormentors. Matthew readied himself for an escape attempt, but too late. Kent Morgan grabbed the seat on his other side, cutting off any easy exit. Matthew tensed, trying to steel himself against the inevitable as the remaining four boys in Zach’s posse claimed the remaining places at the table. But, to Matthew’s utter bewilderment, Zach began, in an uncharacteristically hesitant, almost embarrassed tone, “Matt… uh… Matthew, … I… that is… uh… we… we just… just wanted to apologize… for the way we’ve been treating you… apologize… and try to explain.”

Observing invisibly, I was laughing my ass off. And I laughed even harder when ________ Preparatory Academy was totally scandalized by the six senior sports stars all “coming out of the closet” at the same time. Well, at least young Matthew is no longer contemplating suicide. ‘Lord, what fools these mortals be!’

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