The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dedicated

by Wrestlr

Part 1: The New Guy

Tony—eighteen, slim, chocolate-dark, backpack slung over one shoulder—trudged across the campus at dusk, from the library toward the gym. His determined gait matched his expression. Everything about him was defined by the same drive to succeed. When he first came to this college a year before, he’d vowed to make the honor role. He ran for class treasurer and won by a wide margin. With his ambition and outgoing personality, everyone who knew him agreed he could do anything.

Anything, perhaps, except wrestle.

“You don’t have near enough experience,” the wrestling coach assessed when Tony first showed up for team tryouts. “You got a long way to go just to master the basics. And you’re too damn skinny.”

“You show me how to wrestle, and I’ll win the Olympics,” Tony vowed with his usual determination.

The coach seemed unimpressed. “Only way a skinny guy like you is gonna win the Olympics is if you’re the pole in the pole vaulting competition.”

But Tony went out for wrestling anyway. He worked at a vicious training program, exercised, ate only healthy food, followed the coach’s instructions with devoted seriousness—and succeeded in being pinned by just about every other lightweight trying out.

Something made Tony stick with wrestling, something he himself did not quite understand. He told himself that wrestling was a sport where an individual athlete could excel but still be part of a larger team; too, wrestling included lighter weight classes where a trim guy like him would be needed. But he also knew he liked watching the brawny jocks brawling together nearly naked and sweaty, wanted to be part of the all-male atmosphere of the locker room, the kidding and horsing around, liked the sexy pressure of his genitals held snugly inside his jock-strap. Tony stuck with wrestling because of the weird exhilaration he felt, that strange, potent excitement of twisting and thrashing against another half-stripped youth. He knew what those feelings meant, but he was not yet ready to accept them as part of himself, telling himself only maybe, just a phase.

When the try-outs ended, Tony earned a spot on the wrestling team not because of his skills, which were sorely lacking, but because the coach must have seen something in him. During the practice sessions that followed their first meeting, the coach had often said he liked Toni’s determination but told the youth he’d need to put in a lot of extra work to catch up to the prowess of the other guys on the team.

Whistling softly to himself, Tony entered the gym locker room. The gym closed early on Sundays for everyone except the school’s sports team members. No one was here just before dark on this Sunday, the wrestling team’s day off. Days like this, with no regular practice, only Tony showed up for a workout. The air was humid, thick with the scent of stale sweat and disinfectant. Only the ticking of a steam pipe somewhere broke the silence. Tony marched the length of the empty room to his gray-metal locker and the athletic gear it held.

“No practice today, Tony,” came a soft, drawl from behind him.

Surprised, Tony spun, then sighed his relief when he recognized one of his teammates. “I know.” Tony opened his locker and tossed his backpack inside. “Coach says I need to put in some time every chance I get, so here I am. What’re you doing here on a Sunday, Pete?”

“Was on my way to your dorm. Saw you headin’ across campus. Followed you.” Pete shrugged. “Coach says we need to help you get focused. He asked me to give you some help buildin’ your muscles and growin’ bigger.”

Tony thought about that for a moment. Pete had been heading to his dorm? Tony could not decide what to make of that, did not want to read more into the statement than Pete intended, opted for a noncommittal response until he could figure out the context: “Okay.”

Pete was a senior, older than Tony, taller and blond and muscular; his shit-kicker drawl often covered his seriousness. Everyone on the wrestling team was dedicated, but the coach’s inner circle of the team captain and five or six others were especially dedicated. Pete was part of that inner circle. Strong, successful, a winner. Pete was the kind of wrestler Tony dreamed of being.

Tony kicked off his shoes and socks, then faced his open locker and stripped off his shirt. His shoulders and chest had begun responding to the intense workouts, were beginning to show additional muscle. He peeled off his shorts and briefs, and he fumbled his heavy-hanging genitals unconsciously as he glanced toward Pete.

The brawny blond at his own locker was already naked and appraising Tony’s nude body openly. Emboldened, Tony looked at Pete’s body. Pete’s features were strong and maturing, making the transition from teenager to man, and his complexion was a deep, golden tan, the narrow strip at his slim hips ivory-pale. His muscles were powerfully developed. Sun-bleached hair dusted across his powerful chest. His thick cock hung from a trimmed nest of sandy-brown wire at his crotch. Pete reached down and scratched at his loose-swinging balls as he grinned at Tony. “Man,” Pete drawled, “I dunno if all the exercises you’re doin’ are making’ you big enough to wrestle, but they’re sure givin’ you a man-sized dick!”

Tony felt his face redden, and he turned quickly to grab his jock-strap from his locker and squirm into it. He shoved his nuts and the thickness of his prick into the cup. He felt uncertain. They had stripped together plenty of times, but Pete had never expressed more than the passing camaraderie of being teammates—and had certainly never before said anything about how Tony was hung. Tony was privately pleased to have Pete acknowledge a respect for Tony’s endowment. While he considered himself still too skinny, Tony was proud of the good-sized meat between his legs. Tony snuck another peek at Pete. The older wrestler was hung damn big too. Should Tony return the compliment? He blushed again and stayed silent, afraid his nervous tongue would betray him.

They pulled on gym shorts, T-shirts, socks, and shoes, and headed toward the weight room at the other end of the gym. For once, Tony was keenly aware of the very male presence of Pete’s body near his. Focus, Tony told himself and shook his head to clear away the image of Pete’s chest pushing at the front of that T-shirt. Tony shuffled to the neat row of dumbbells and began his usual routine with his usual determination.

Pete matched him, move for move, though using a heavier set of dumbbells. Sometimes Pete made a suggestion about how Tony could improve his form, or urged Tony—C’mon, dude—to complete just two extra reps—That’s the way—but mostly they worked out in silence except for grunted breaths and the soft clangs of the weights.

Tony felt his body respond to the exercise with trickles of sweat down his skin; similar perspiration, he saw, ran along Pete’s bronzed arms and forehead, diamond-like droplets caught in his soft chest hair. Something about Pete fascinated him. Tony kept finding himself just wanting to stop and stare at his teammate, just ... Tony shook himself to snap out of it. Pete’s confident half-smile said something was up. Sure, Tony had started improving enough to win the occasional practice match, but he was still low man on the team roster. One of the coach’s inner circle was paying attention to a skinny loser like Tony?—Maybe Pete was doing this out of camaraderie. Over the last week, now that he thought about it, Tony had seen some of the inner circle seeming to take the other new guys on the team under their wings for special attention, almost like a type of “big brother” or “mentoring” program. Was Pete going to be his mentor? Part of Tony thrilled at the idea, but another part reminded him about a risk: over the years Tony had seen alpha jocks tease and play pranks on everybody else. Tony decided he had best stay alert, just in case this was somehow a joke at his expense.

“Time for crunches,” Pete barked, mimicking their coach. “On the floor, and give me fifty!”

“Okay.” Tony lay back on the matted floor, his fingers interlocked behind his head. He could do this—plus his eyes would be aimed at the ceiling, instead of looking at Pete.

Chuckling as if he knew a secret, Pete knelt at Tony’s feet, pinning his ankles down, as Tony strained and rocked his torso upward. His stomach muscles tensed into a taut column, and he held the position for a moment, then fell back. Okay, so much for not looking at Pete. Tony repeated the exercise again and again, laboring as Pete counted off until Tony reached fifty.

Pete slid his hands up the younger wrestler’s legs slowly. Tony froze, half-panicked, as Pete’s hands approached Tony’s crotch and the involuntary swelling that made the front of his shorts curve out in spite of his jock-strap. Pete’s hands stopped at mid-thigh and pressed firmly downward. “Now try it this way,” he murmured. “Builds your core strength faster.”

Tony strained and dragged his torso off the mat into a crunch, unable to concentrate on anything except Pete’s strong fingers inches from Tony’s gym shorts and the few inches that separated their faces. He saw Pete’s blond hair and masculine features, the intensity in his gaze, the brawny maturity of his build. Pete’s fingers pressed into the linings of Tony’s thighs. Tony feared he was moments away from a full erection. Pete counted off the reps: “One ... Two ... Three ...”

“That’s all I can do,” Tony false-laughed to break the tension, falling back again. “That makes it rougher, all right!”

For a moment, Tony felt Pete continue to stare at him, and then Pete pulled back, hiding his expression.

“Okay, let’s shower and quit for the day,” Pete drawled as he stood, tugging at the front of his shorts abruptly. “C’mon.”

Tony lay still, basking in the memory of Pete’s hands, the sensuous pressure, the taunting closeness of their bodies, and the luxurious, hungry power that had swirled into his semi-erection and made him want to do more. More what exactly? He was not sure, just something ... more. Then—Wait, what?—Tony’s thoughts snapped to the way Pete had called it quits and the way he, maybe, also pushed a hard-on down when he had stood up. What the fuck? Tony wondered. Pete got erect too? Tony frowned, uncertain, and brushed that thought aside. He stood up and adjusted his own crotch as he followed after the older blond.

Tony had worked harder than he realized. His arms and legs trembled with exhaustion, threatened to give way; he had to consciously push himself forward, keep himself moving. At the other end of the locker room was the short white-tiled corridor that led to the showers. Pete was nowhere to be seen when Tony reached their lockers, but Pete’s clothes were piled on the bench. Tony heard one of the showers come on. He peeled off his shirt, paused, then his shoes, shorts and jock, leaving them piled on the bench next to Pete’s.

The naked blond stood under one of the gushing sprays, drenching himself. Tony had observed his teammates’ habits enough to know that Pete always showered the same way: wetting down completely, then washing his face, then lathering his shoulders and arms and torso, working his way down, eyes closed, as if secretly enjoying the strength and maleness of his body. Tony stepped under the second showerhead down from Pete, one empty space between them. Sure, Tony had watched him many times before, but usually the room was filled with brawling young athletes. Now, they were alone, and unconsciously Tony found himself matching Pete’s movements.

Eyes shut, Tony let his soapy palms wander over his getting-stronger shoulders and arms, then into the deep cups of his armpits. He followed the curves and hollows of his chest, smoothing the traces of dark hair in the middle before brushing his hands toward the oblong nipples, then working lower over his tight stomach and belly. Finally, he doubled forward to scrub his thighs and legs, and when he glanced up, Pete was facing him, watching him.

That was another part of the blond’s routine: Pete always saved his genitals for last. Washing himself thoughtfully, he worked up a heavy foam in his thick pubic hair, and then he let his fingers stretch lower for his large, loose-swinging balls. He lathered them slowly, almost as if showing off their potent size, and then he grasped his cock with both hands, soaping the broad, red-pink head with one palm as he stroked the long, thick shaft with the other.

Without thinking, Tony copied Pete’s actions, and a sudden threatening arousal flooded into his thoughts and crotch. He turned away quickly to rinse off.

“Tony,” Pete drawled, breaking the long silence, “I hope you don’t mind me comin’ down here to work out with you today.”

“Uh ... Hell, no. I—uh—it’s good to have a workout partner to spot me.”

“That’s what I was thinkin’. It’s mighty fine, workin’ out and showerin’ together with a buddy.” Pete leaned back into the spray, eyes closed. “You’re more grown-up than you look, even if you are still a skinny fucker.”

“Meaning?”

“You’re real easy to talk to, which ain’t true of most of the assholes at this school. And I like watchin’ you walk around bare-ass.”

Tony blinked. What had Pete just said about bare-ass?

Pete turned abruptly and shut off his shower. “We’d best dry off, pal.”

They went into the drying area, grabbed towels, and began wiping off. Tony couldn’t stop himself from watching the oddly fascinating play of muscles across Pete’s broad back and the sudden-pale arcs of his slim ass. Tony felt like he should say something, but dangerous things felt too close to the surface. Something about being there alone with Pete made Tony want to open up, let those things out into the open, no matter the risk. Something about Pete—

Tony heard himself say, “I like watching you bare-ass, too, Pete.”

Why the hell did I say that? Tony cursed himself as he blushed hard. He was suddenly far too conscious of standing naked in front of the rugged, blond wrestler and talking about being naked. Tony sucked in a deep breath and rushed to wrap his towel about his hips. He had to fix this before Pete got the wrong idea. “I mean—“

“I know what you mean, Tony,” Pete said cryptically. “And it’s all right.” Pete locked his towel about his waist and nodded toward a door on the opposite side of the room. “I ain’t in no hurry. How about takin’ a rest?”

A single thought looped through Tony’s head: Now what?—Now what?—Now what? But without a word, he followed Pete.

The door led to a small equipment storage room that the wrestlers often used as a quiet recovery space. Veg-out time, the others called it, or focus-time. Tony knew the coach and his inner circle used this room to relax, maybe catch a quick nap after a hard workout. He had seen the coach or an inner circle guy take one of the other wrestling team members in there sometimes after practice. Tony had never been in there himself, not yet anyway, and now he found himself following Peter through the door, and Pete was definitely part of the coach’s inner circle.

Ancient equipment was piled against the walls, and the air was warm. The room was dim—no light on—and when Pete closed the door behind them, the room went dark. Not entirely dark: a little light from the locker room slid through the ventilation grid near the bottom of the door, and through the half-inch gap at the bottom of the door. Dim, but enough illumination to see by, once Tony’s eyes had a few seconds to adjust. Tony sat on a foot-high stack of wrestling mats on the floor and watched as Pete flipped the door lock, even though they were the only ones in the locker room—Why’d he do that?—and walked over to settle beside him.

Tony felt nervous, and he found himself babbling: “I—I guess you like to take a break here?—Sometimes?—After a workout, I mean? Like, after practice?” Why’d he lock the door? Why’d he lock the door?

Pete flopped back on the mats. “Yeah. It’s cool, ’specially when I need a break from the other guys and all their noise. Like Coach says, sometimes you just got to focus on yourself a little while, to figure out what’s important and how to dedicate yourself to achieving it.” Pete stretched his arms, then let them lie at his sides, almost touching Tony but not quite.

A few seconds passed in silence, then a few more. Tony was about to say something, anything, when Pete whispered, “I caught Mac and Larry in here last week jerkin’ each other off.”

“What? Really? What’d they do?”

Pete’s shrug was almost invisible in the near-darkness. “Nothin’. They was too close to poppin’ to say nothin’ about me bein’ there.” He chucked softly. “Anyway, I don’t see that it’s anybody else’s business what a couple of guys do together. Sometimes a man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do to clear the noise away so he focus on what’s important.”

Tony tried to process this new information. His mind zipped through scenarios: If Tony had been there, would he have watched?—Joined in? Mac, Larry, jerking off, right here, and Pete not caring—too much to make sense of this quickly. “I ... I guess you’re right?” He was aware of Pete watching him, the way Pete’s eyes glittered in the dimness when he blinked. Tony shivered. He was intensely aware of being in the dark with Pete. He’s naked except for that towel, Tony thought. Me too—I’m naked except for my towel. His cock twitched at the thought. Pete could just roll toward me and put his hand on my cock. Or I could roll toward him and put my hand on his cock. Or we could roll toward each other and touch our cocks together, maybe even kiss. Tony’s dick and balls buzzed. He realized how intensely he wanted that—kissing, their cocks touching—and he realized what wanting Pete that intensely meant. Queer stuff—only queers do queer stuff. Okay, maybe I’m queer. Tony decided nothing he wanted this badly could be bad. What was, simply was. If he was going to keep having queer thoughts about his teammates and other guys he saw around campus, then he would just have to accept that as part of who he was. If I’m queer, will Pete want to do queer stuff with me? Tony wondered if he had the courage to ask for what he wanted, to offer himself to Pete. A long moment passed as Tony watched Pete watching him. Tony finally looked away.

Pete’s drawl slithered through the air between them, sensual as a snake. “You ever beat off with another feller, Tony?”

Tony knew he should say Hell no, should protest that he’d never ever do such a thing. But something about Pete’s eyes and the way Pete’s lazy question oozed through his thoughts made Tony want to answer honestly, because he felt like Pete could already see this new truth Tony had accepted. “Yeah,” Tony replied quietly, though he had spoken of this to no one ever before. The answer came easily. Tony could refuse Pete nothing in this moment. Something about Pete’s eyes watching him calmed Tony. He relaxed, enjoying the physical proximity. “A couple times. A guy down the hall in my dorm. We watched porn, jacked off.” Tony stopped short of mentioning that his friend watched the porn while Tony watched the friend.

A moment of warm silence, and then Pete said, “Lie back. Relax. Make yourself nice and comfortable.”

Tony leaned his torso back until he was lying on the mat alongside his teammate. He was very much aware that he was wearing nothing but a towel, naked underneath, and that Pete too was wearing a towel with nothing underneath. Naked, naked, we’re nearly naked. Tony’s cock twitched at the thought. Pete turned on his side toward Tony, gazing at him with that same intensity. Tony kept his eyes carefully pointed up at the ceiling.

“Another year or two of working out, and you’re maybe gonna be a good wrestler like Larry,” Pete drawled softly. “Gonna be built like him, too, maybe.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“That’s why I’m here, buddy. Coach thinks you’re ready to take the next step. You ready?”

“Uh, okay? I guess so.” Tony hoped his voice did not sound too nervous. He wanted the older wrestler to like him.

“Just remember: Everything we’re gonna do is to help you be more dedicated. All the rest of us have been through it. It happened to me the first year I was on the wrestling team, and later Coach took ... Well, you’re not ready to go that far, not for a while yet. But Coach thinks you’re ready for your first time. You don’t want to disappoint him, do you?”

“No.”

“Let’s try something. Just a little test. All you have to do it lie there and look at the ceiling.”

“Okay?”

“A lot of guys use this room for a little rest after a hard workout, just like we’re doin’. This may sound funny, but sometimes after a workout it’s the brain you have to recharge, not just the body. Lyin’ here in the dark, it’s easy to feel yourself gettin’ real tired and relaxed. Some guys might even close their eyes and catch a nap, but that’s just part of the process. Rechargin’ your mind takes a little practice, but it’s easy. You just need to stay awake a little while at first, so keep your eyes open, okay? If they close for a second or two, that’s fine, but open them back up and refocus your eyes on the ceiling. All right?”

“Okay.”

“After an intense workout, your body wants to recharge. Your brain too. Lyin’ here in the dark helps relax your body and your mind more and more. The best way is to focus on your breathin’; make sure you’re breathin’ deeply, relaxing completely. Holdin’ each breath a second or two. Lettin’ it out, nice and slow. So relaxed your body feels like it’s sinking into the mat. Breathe in. Sink down. Exhale. Relax. Just focus on your breathin’. Feelin’ relaxed. Sinkin’ lightly. Eyes blinkin’ a bit. Breathin’ deeply. Sinkin’, like fallin’ asleep. It’s perfectly okay. Eyes blinkin’ more. Relaxin’ deep.”

Tony did feel relaxed. His body was exhausted after his workout. His muscles felt limp.

“Feel your mind openin’, just acceptin’. Eyes heavier. Harder to keep them open. Perfectly natural. Breathe deeply. Sink down. So relaxed, like bein’ in a trance or somethin’. So easy to relax and just obey.”

Pete’s voice, Tony noted, had gone softer but still authoritative, just like when Pete had been counting out the reps for Tony in the weight room. Listening to Pete now reminded Tony of the workout that had exhausted his muscles so. Relax. Okay, Tony thought; he could do that. He felt too relaxed to move. Obey. Wait—why had Pete said that? It was probably nothing, Tony decided. Obeying was no big deal. He had accepted what Pete said about becoming so relaxed, so Tony decided he could accept what Pete said about obeying too. Besides, he felt too tired to disagree ...

“All thoughts clearin’ away. So relaxed. Sinkin’ lightly into a deep trance. Warm and relaxed. Let go. Let go of everything and just sink now. Close your eyes and sink now.”

Tony felt his eyes close, felt himself slip from the dark room to the dark of his eyes being shut. He felt warm and relaxed, just like Paul was saying. The deep sense of relaxation filled his entire body, making his limbs feel heavy and light at the same time. He felt an intense oneness with everything, losing track of where his self ended and Pete’s words began. His skin tingled, which felt good. His dick began to swell. Perfectly normal; perfectly natural. He let it happen.

Tony blinked. Pete had said something, had awakened him from that pleasant torpor. Tony blinked, looked around the near-darkness, found Pete smiling at him.

“You’re gettin’ the hang of it,” Peter said cryptically. “You’re gonna be a good one, sleepyhead.“

That word meant something, and Tony felt himself sinking again. His eyes closed.

“That’s it,” Pete said from someplace simultaneously far away and nearby. “Listen to my words, sleepyhead, and let go. Let yourself sink into deep relaxation. That warm, tingly feelin’ flows through your whole body now—from the tips of your toes, to your fingertips, to the top of your head. Feels so good, so comfortable, takin’ all of the stress and tension out of your muscles. Feels so wonderful, and so relaxin’, don’t it. Feels real good.“

Tony knew something was happening, and he decided he liked it. Liked this feeling, the sound of Pete’s voice, the warm darkness in which he was losing himself. He let himself drift happily.

Pete said something, and Tony felt himself wake up again. He blinked and looked for Pete, a comforting presence, and smiled at his older teammate.

“Feelin’ good?” Pete asked.

Tony thought for a moment, then nodded. He did feel good. Too relaxed and limp to move. His cock was pleasantly full, and it pushed against the terrycloth towel around his hips. Tony liked that feeling. He was glad the room was too dark, probably, for Pete to see his erection, because Tony liked the way his erection felt as it pulsed against the fabric.

Pete asked again, “Yeah, feelin’ good, sleepyhead.“

Tony tried to stay awake but sank back into sleep too quickly.

“All you want is to relax and let go,” Pete was saying to him. “Your body feels more calm and relaxed than before. Let that warm, tingly feelin’ grow and grow. Feel it spread deep inside your stomach, deep into your chest, deep into your head. Completely relaxin’ everything it touches. Completely relaxin’ your mind and your body. It clears away all of the stress and tension and distractions, pushes ’em down and out of your body, leavin’ you perfectly relaxed and ready to sink deeper and deeper into trance. Just surrender your mind and body completely to the warm sensation. You feel completely at peace, completely focused. Surrender your mind and body to this deep hypnotic trance. Let yourself feel better than you ever felt in your entire life. And you absolutely love it, don’t you. Yes.”

Tony opened his eyes when Pete asked him to, but something was different. Pete had told him to open his eyes but had not told him to wake up. Tony’s body still felt so heavy and relaxed, like part of his mind, but only part, was aware while his body remained in deep sleep.

“Feel good?” Pete asked. “You like bein’ hypnotized?”

That pleasant lassitude still filled through Tony’s body, making his arms and legs too heavy to move. All he wanted to do was lie there and stare into Pete’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what Pete’s question meant, but he did not want to disappoint the older wrestler, so he said, “Yeah.”

“Good. Now you just lay back and stay relaxed and let whatever happens happen. Think you can do that for me, Tony?”

“Okay.”

Tony felt a sense of union with everything around him, including Pete. Tony felt the blond wrestler’s rough fingers roam over his bare chest and circle one of his tightening nipples; it felt so good, but it felt far away, as if it were happening to someone else. Tony’s cock throbbed, and he knew Pete could probably see his hard-on, but he felt too good to care. Yes, by now Pete had to be able to see that damn ram swelling up under the towel knotted at his hips, even in this darkness, but Tony found he did not mind if Pete saw. Any shame and embarrassment drained out of him and was gone before he could even realize he was feeling anything other than this warm, tingling relaxation. All he felt now was a quiet, peaceful unifying drowsiness as his world shrank down to Pete’s voice, his presence, and the hold it had on him.

“Wanna know what I think about when I’m jerkin’ off at night?” Pete asked gently. Tony could not decipher Pete’s question, so he did not answer. “I think about a fine, young stud. Dark-skinned. Kind of skinny but buildin’ himself up to be a wrestler. He can’t wrestle worth shit right now, but someday he’ll be a good one. I dream I’m lying next to him ... and touchin’ him ... and seein’ his pecker grow man-sized. If anything happens and you don’t like it, Tony, or don’t want to remember it, just tell yourself this was all a dream.”

Tony liked the feeling as Pete’s fingers drew downward over his taut-corded stomach. His body intuited what was going to happen, and his cock witched. Whatever was going to happen, Tony felt a peaceful anticipation. He was glad Pete was here beside him.

“Lie still and relax,” Pete whispered.

Tony felt Pete’s fingers open his towel, and he knew his prick had sprung up fully hard, the bulging head angled toward his pale belly, his balls drawn tight. Then Pete touched Tony’s erection, began stroking it gently.

Tony’s voice gurgled from somewhere, “Muuhh.”

“Shh. Just relax and trust me. You’re gonna like this.”

Pete’s eyes disappeared, moving downward, but the hypnotic fog still clouded Tony’s head. He just wanted to close his eyes and back sink into the drowsy heaviness that filled him. A soft warmth lapped at Tony’s exposed testicles, then washed upward to the inflamed crown of his dick, and circled it, and engulfed it. He forced his eyes back open and looked down.

Pete was sucking his cock! Tight lips and suction, sliding from tip to base, then from base to tip. Fingers toying with Tony’s balls, making the cum in them churn. Blond hair pressed to Tony’s pubes. In Pete’s massive arms, knotted muscles shifted. Tony’s legs were eased apart. One of Pete’s slickened fingers probed down and between Tony’s butt cheeks. He knew he should be afraid, should say no, but he wanted this, wanted to stay so deeply relaxed, and he wanted this to happen with Pete, more than he had ever wanted anything else before.

Tony felt Pete’s finger between his ass cheeks, searching for his hole. Pete had his head in Tony’s crotch, swallowing his cock to the root, and Tony got lost in the warm wetness of Pete’s mouth, and his tongue, and the stroking of Pete’s hand between his ass cheeks, probing, searching. Then Pete’s finger found his target and pushed forward.

Tony felt ... pressure. More pressure. Something forcing its way inside him. He felt a distant mild discomfort as his body tried by instinct to repel the invader. Pete’s mouth worked along Tony’s cock as he pushed more of his finger into Tony’s ass. The lip-strokes on his cock felt great and helped Tony relax. He felt another inch of Pete’s finger slide through his ass-ring, slide inside him.

Tony was aware of random moaning noises. He could not tell if they were from his throat or Pete’s. He felt the warm and comforting presence of Pete alongside him, mouth off Tony’s cock for a moment, whispering that everything would be all right, to relax, just stay relaxed, and let it happen.

It had to happen this way, Tony decided. It was inevitable. Everything felt inevitable. Everything felt good, made him feel relaxed. Tony felt himself accepting the truth of it, the way his butthole was learning to accept Pete’s finger. Tony’s hips pumped slowly, gently, making his cock move in Pete’s throat now that the mouth had returned to swallow his rod again.

Tony felt a familiar tingle begin in his cock. Pete, he thought, a warning he was too limp to say out loud—but the blond wrestler did not slow his mouth-strokes up and down on Tony’s erection. The tingling spread to his balls, the base of his spine, his ass around that invading finger. Tony’s body slid closer to orgasm, faster, faster still, spiraling helplessly ahead.

Tony knew he should be saying no-no-no, but somehow all the rules in his head stayed quiet. Had Pete used suggestions to make Tony set them aside? Did that mean Tony wanted to set them aside? Without the rules telling him no-no-no, Tony could just accept the way things just were, could let the pieces of himself fit together in the ways they wanted to, not the ways the social rules that defined his drive had seemed to say was the right way. That felt good, somehow. Tony decided he liked drifting in this inhibition-free state, decided he could just let things happen the way they wanted to happen for once.

Everything happened too fast: the sudden explosion, the gushing cum, the lasting hungry suction of the entire world. As his climax began, Tony felt something collapse, felt some wall inside his mind fall. Time seemed to slow and stop. Tony was held in mid-orgasm, as something entirely different happened. Infinite pleasure. Infinite ... something—Tony could not describe it to himself. Awareness seemed too small a word. And more things were changing in Tony’s head, realigning from maybe, perhaps to a new configuration of I am. He knew what he wanted now. Knew why he craved the male closeness of wrestling. He felt Pete’s comforting warmness, and he craved it, craved more of this deep relaxation.

And then, slowly, time began to crawl forward, moving again, resuming the aching pleasure and slow descent from orgasmic ecstasy. Tony felt as though he was awaking from a deep sleep, as if he had been sleeping all his life. Tony felt the blond wrestler pressed up alongside him, both of them towel-free and naked now, pressed against him from foot to thigh to arm. Pete’s hand pumped at his own cock, and Tony relaxed and let that happen too. Dapples of warm liquid began to splatter Tony’s body—Pete’s ejaculation—as Pete moaned and fell across Tony’s chest, embracing him. They lay close, as if wrestling but still and satisfied.

Tony lay quietly, savoring the deep relaxation that still had his limbs too heavy to move. Pete moved alongside him, over him, until they were face to face. Pete brushed a finger over Tony’s cum-spattered chest, and Tony liked the way little ripples of sensation rang out from there and then become lost in everything he was feeling. Pete stroked lower. His fingers touched Tony’s cock-shaft, thickening again, and Pete wound his fist around it. He stroked Tony’s cock as best he could with their bodies pressed so closely together.

Tony felt an electric crackle in his groin, felt his second orgasm diffuse out into the ocean of relaxation. Warm liquid spurted from Tony’s ram, slicked Pete’s pumping hand. The pressure of Pete’s torso against him reassured Tony.

When his orgasm flowed away like the tide, Tony’s balls felt heavy and spent, but his cock was still mostly hard.

“Dang,” Pete sighed. “You’re gonna need a few more sessions to make sure the hypnosis sticks”—he waggled Tony’s erection—“but I can tell you’re gonna be another insatiable sex-freak, just like Larry. Maybe we should call him over, ’cause I’m spent for the next hour or so.”

Tony found himself wanting to get used to this ... whatever this was, wanting to feel it more, feel it all the time. The closeness. The oneness. The deep relaxation where all the fears and doubts went quiet.

Tony opened an eye, beginning to realize all that had happened. He felt Pete haul him closer into an embrace again. Naked and satisfied, they lay together for a while, until Tony felt the relaxation fading, knew he was starting to wake up. Tony pressed the side of his face against the other wrestler’s head, watched his slow-moving chest. “Pete?” Tony asked at last, trying not to betray his uncertainty. “What’re we supposed to do now?”

“I’m thinkin’ ... we do dinner. I’m starvin’.”

“No, I mean ..."—about this.

“You’ll need some reinforcement over the next few days so’s it becomes permanent, and Coach’ll want to work with you some too. But I’d be mighty honored if you’ll let me be part of those first sessions with you. I think you got a lot of potential.”

Wait, Tony thought, am I misreading this? Is Pete saying he likes me? Or is he just flattering me so he can—? “I think you’ve got a lot of potential too,” Tony replied, before he realized what he was saying, and he felt himself blush, invisibly thanks to the dim room.

Pete made a soft chuckling sound.

Too many unknowns. How much of what he felt was post-coital, how much was an aftereffect of the hypnosis, and how much was just the pleasure of being his new self here alone with Pete? Tony decided he felt too much joy to spoil his mood worrying about unknowns. Don’t overanalyze—just be, he told himself. He needed to funnel his happiness into a change of subject. “Hey, can I practice on you too?—Just to make sure I get the hang of giving as well as getting? I think I’ll have to practice a lot ’til I’m as good as you are.“

Pete laughed. “We’ll see.” Then he raised his head. “Wait—you talkin’ about the hypnosis or the blow-jobs?”

“Both,” Tony challenged, thankful the room was too dark for Pete to see him blushing yet again.

“Blow-jobs, definitely. The hypnosis?—It’s tricky to learn. These first several times are goin’ to have to be about trainin’ your mind and workin’ on your dedication. You gotta give the changes time to sink in. And you don’t want to wear your cock out, not if you’re still set on growin’ to be a good wrestler.”

Tony sat up. “I don’t want to be just good. I want to be a great wrestler.“

Pete chuckled. “Learn to walk before you can run, grasshopper.”

“Hey, you said you’d be ready for round two in an hour or so, right? Let’s get dressed and go get dinner so you can keep your strength up.” Tony hopped to his feet, proudly waving his huge, half-hard prick at the grinning blond. “Then let’s go up to my room. My roommate’s gone and won’t be back ’til tomorrow!”