Domination Ch. 7

Domination (by Mafisto)

Chapter 7: Losses and Discoveries
[Fantasy guest stars: Ryan Gosling as Ryan, Mark-Paul Gosselaar as Mark Gosling, Jonathan Brandis as Jon Brandon, Jeremy Jordan as Nick, Kyle Alisharan as Kyle, Scott Vickaryous as Scott, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss as Julia Dreyfuss, Brad Pitt as Brad Perkins.]

Blue and purple triangles flashed and whirled in Gary’s field of view; they crashed into his head and slit his mind with razor-sharp edges. He lay face down on Nick’s bed, a gentle breeze cooling his exposed ass. The bittersalty taste of Nick’s cum still lingered in his mouth — despite the most immediate defeat, it still tasted like victory. Pulling his khakis and boxers from down his ankles, he clumsily stood up beside the bed then immediately winced in pain. He had stepped right onto shards of broken glass, which littered the bedroom floor: the bay window was shattered.

He was alone. After having extracted the bloody shards from under his feet, he walked cautiously to the opening through which the breeze was coming. Below, something had punched a hole the size of a basketball into the glass roof of the conservatory. There wasn’t anyone down there either. He checked his watch. Almost 3:30 PM. He had been out of it for about half an hour. He sat on the bay window couch, closed his eyes, and tried to think. The water gun! He reopened his eyes in alarm and scanned the room. It was gone! Was it in his bag? He kneeled next to his bag on the floor and ransacked it. The gun was gone, and so was the copper flask containing the drug.


As Ryan unlocked the door to room 31, he wondered why the hell these students needed more towels. Apparently, they had run out of dry ones this morning. Unless some of them had taken two showers, it didn’t make any sense. It would have been easier to understand had they been athletes, but just how dirty can engineers get? A picture glowing on the laptop screen on the desk gave him his answer. Pretty dirty, he guessed. His mind became clouded and his fingers mechanically moved to unbutton his tropical shirt.


At the exact moment Gary accepted that the drug had been stolen, his blood thinned to the point of blanching his entire body, making it buoyant and almost unsubstantial. Without the drug, what was he, anyway? The ghost of a person, who now floated rather than walked? A bookworm for whom life was something you read about rather than lived? Someone meant to docilely obey rather than command, as he had been to Richard Bloom, his father, the high priest, the moral highlander, the beacon of humanity’s hope? Now there was someone worthy of power, someone in whose shadow you were happy to crawl, someone superior enough that when he beat and punched and bruised you, you could only be proud to be the one bringing him relief.

Gary drifted out of the bedroom, as if carried by the breeze. The situation was hopeless; without the drug, he had to sneak out of there and go back home to resume his lifeless life. Noises could be heard from Nick’s office downstairs. Nick and the pool guy were certainly drug-dry by now — how were they going to react towards him? Even after the drug had ceased to work on Todd the janitor and the room 31 students, they had kept on not remembering their adventures with Gary; yet for a moment Todd and Jeff had both reacted violently against Gary after the drug stopped influencing them. So, did the effects go on or not? Was it random? He was such an imbecile — now that was something he had often heard from his dad — Nick had certainly reported to the cops by now that Gary had broken into the house and taken advantage of him. He had to flee before they arrived.

Gary darted down the stairs to the front door. He was just about to open it when he noticed, on the front page of the Sun-Sentinel lying on an Early American writing desk, a picture of the green man, of the man in the green suit. The headline: «Two dead and one wounded at beach mansion» The caption: «Owner Timothy O’Shea died on the beach outside mansion.» Gary picked up the paper and started to read the story as he went outside. The police had no clues as to the motivation be-hind the killings; they assumed it was drug-related — not so far from the mark, Gary thought. Apart from O’Shea, whose body had been discovered on the beach where Gary had left it, the police had also found two men dressed in purple robes, members of some unknown sect, inside O’Shea’s mansion. One had been killed by a gunshot, presumably by O’Shea, but the other, only wounded, had been sent to the Holy Cross Hospital. Purple robes? Why was this familiar to Gary?


At the Broward County Convention Center, Sean was staring at the cruise ships in Port Everglades with Jeff and Paul while John talked to Melissa, his girlfriend, on a public phone.

“I’m sorry if I sound cold, Mel,” John said, playing rope with the phone cord, “but something happened to me last night — or maybe this morning — anyway, I fell in love with someone else.”

His words startled Sean. Who could he be talking about? John wouldn’t drop Mel for one of those cock-teasers from last night, would he? Jeff and Paul, seated a few feet away, hadn’t heard John, too busy throwing meaningful looks at each other that Sean tried to ignore. He had surprised them in a secluded corner before the last session, and he could swear they had been just about to kiss.

“Forget it! I won’t tell you who it is. I didn’t even tell the guys yet… Hell, I didn’t even tell the one I love… Anyway, it’s intense, and I want to pursue this… I just needed you to know. I’m sorry…”

Sean filled his mouth with another piece of minty chewing gum. What a weird day! John was dumping Melissa for a secret ghost girl, Jeff and Paul were making goo-goo eyes at each other, and he couldn’t get that awful taste out of his mouth. At least, he had succeeded in removing all those blond hairs on his tongue. How the hell they had gotten there was beyond him…

“Don’t act stupid, Mel… No, I’m not saying you’re stupid but you got school… Hello? Mel?”

John hung up, and his three friends turned their attention to him.

“She’s crazy — she wants to take the next flight here! Sometimes I think she’ll turn out like her sister Jane… That’s a bit mean, sorry… Eh! Isn’t that Mark Gosling and Jon Brandon? Mark! Jon!”

Two dark-blond boys down the hall stopped in their tracks and walked towards the foursome.

“Why did he do that?” whispered Sean to Jeff and Paul. “You know what they say about these two and their friends… I’m not talking to them.”

Mark and Jon could have been brothers: Mark would have been the oldest, with a rugged face, large eyes, and a brawny physique, and Jon his junior by a year, with fine features and a thinner, blander build.

“Hi guys!” said Mark. “Were you at the ‘Engineering Ethics’ session?”

“These two were,” said John, nodding towards Jeff and Paul. “Sean and I were at the ‘Conversation with an Astronaut’. It was interesting… These guys sure put their lives in our hands.”

Sean kept to himself, studying the group. Mark was the most social, pushing for a conversation. Jon was like Sean, aloof but alert. John seemed eager to engage in meaningless chat, probably to forget all about Melissa. Paul was staring at Mark and Jon as if he was undressing them with his eyes. Was that a hard-on in his pants? How did he get so weird?

“How do you like the Blue Sparrow?” asked Jeff, wanting to join in.

Jon surprised everyone by answering, with a voice so charming you could almost not sense the disdain: “Cheap. Tawdry. The worst America has to offer. But vulgarity has its appeal, wouldn’t you say? Sex is vulgar, and sex has its appeal. An overpowering appeal, almost…”

There was a sudden fire in Jon’s eyes, and his face tightened. Sean could not help but be fascinated by Jon’s voice, and what it was saying. His thoughts drifted toward vulgar, pornographic sex: zoomed-in body parts, bodies sweaty and in heat… Fuck, he was he getting a hard-on, and fast… Jeff, John, even Paul, they were all frozen like himself, listening to Jon’s words, and all three had obvious woodies in their pants. Only Mark seemed unaffected, but quite interested.

“…and its power cannot be resisted, because it’s coming from your most primal self. It mounts and mounts and takes hold of your minds and bodies…”

Sean squirmed in place, clutching at his pants, as his brain was drowning in its own visions of raw, naked flesh, satin breasts and flowery cunts.

“…It invades your brains and hearts and cocks and it stimulates them, stimulates them, creating a surge of rational, emotional and physical pleasure until it reaches its unavoidable climax…”

At the word climax, Sean instantly came in his pants, his warm juices soaking his briefs. His friends had also relieved themselves in the same way — Paul and John had dark stains all over their jeans. Jon smiled wickedly and left with Mark, leaving Sean and his friends wet and confused.


When purple mages threaten to snatch you for their joyrides, remember: copper protects, gold reflects, and silver hides.

Gary remembered these words, uttered in his father’s voice. During Gary’s childhood, Richard Bloom often frightened him with tales of those purple mages who, like demons, could possess you and make you do things you’d never do. When Gary did something wrong — often the case in the Bloom’s household — his father would invariably say: “You’re opening the door for the purple mind-snatchers to make you theirs” with sincere, atypical concern. Then he’d say the rhyme.

Not so long ago, Gary had met a man in purple robes. When that man entered the bookstore, Gary instantly started to shiver at the prospect of meeting a bogeyman from his youth. It was an amiable enough man who was looking for a book, a rare book. Gary told him that the book was untraceable and proposed some alternatives. The man left without taking a look at…

“Don’t go so soon Gary!” The voice, Nick’s, made him jump despite its sweet tone. Gary stopped, but did not turn around. He had almost reached the sidewalk. Was Nick still drugged? That was impossible. Was it a trap? Was he pretending, just to take his revenge on Gary? Then who had struck him earlier and stolen the drug? The pool guy? Anyway, the drug had strong chances to still be in Nick’s house. He had to recover it and be somebody again. He turned and smiled at Nick.


Mallory heard a noise from not too far away. Someone was coming towards the court. He jumped away from the bodyrubbing action on the chaise longue, flinched at the jocks’ load moans, and sprinted towards the gate. As soon as the intruder entered the court, Mallory came to him, pointed towards the two half-naked athletes, and said:

“I don’t know what game these two are playing, but it sure isn’t basketball!”

Discreetly of course, he took the man’s MIP address. The man — who was probably in his late twenties — carried a large broom with him; he was attractive in a primal sort of way, with wiry limbs, a fuzzy face, and straggly reddish hair. Some kind of janitor, thought Mallory. Not too good to let a motel employee see too much… He sat on the bench with his PowerBook and hurriedly picked the janitor’s mind. The latter approached the chaise-longue where Kyle was apparently buffing Scott’s body with his own, making both of them howl madly with pleasure.

“You can’t do stuff like that here…” said the janitor, awkwardly.

As Mallory browsed… Todd, there was his name… as he browsed Todd’s mental landscape, something puzzled him. There were some forcefully implanted pathways there, still fresh, not merged with the surrounding code. These pathways were now discarded, disconnected. Someone had recently tampered with his mind. Who? And why this particular man? There was no occult signature, so it wasn’t a Mage. Was it the trace of a Rogue? He’d have to report it right away. He decoded the exact pathways. Allowing someone to stay… somewhere… in a sauna… Stripping… from his shirt… A gradual increase in… sexual arousal… Not hurting someone… Letting someone go… Being grateful… for being allowed a little fun on the job… Cleaning himself up… and getting dressed… Forgetting about everything… Mallory couldn’t believe this. All of these mental algorithms were written in clear, perfect code! Some of them were quite complex, especially the emotional control ones. Who could have written such perfect mindcode? As soon as he’s recovered the book from this Gary Bloom, Mallory would make a visit to O’Shea. Maybe Domination would let them investigate this together, just like old times.

Todd was still dumbly waiting for the boys to acknowledge his presence. The virus in the jocks’ heads would last for another five minutes, so by simply reactivating some of Todd’s newly acquired pathways for this amount of time, and then calling that crystal-clear Forget mindcode, Mallory would be in business. It took him about thirty seconds to use the existing algorithms in a preprogrammed sequence: Strip, Arousal, Cleaning, Forget…

Todd, finally tired of waiting in vain, came to him and said: “I’m getting the manager. They’re ignoring…” He stopped abruptly and started to unbutton his shirt.

Mallory had changed a few variables to increase the rhythm of the mindcode. Within a minute, Todd had stripped naked and was jerking off, his eyes on the two boys. Mallory studied Todd’s tall, sinewy body with its reddish fuzz, its lance-like steel-hard dick, and its tight, dimpled ass, then reapproached the boys, who were oblivious to the events around them. He removed Kyle’s black briefs: they were filled with cum, probably from more than one orgasm. When he tried to do the same to Scott’s boxerbriefs, Scott struck at his arm, then went back to the rubbing action without missing a beat. Strange. Todd soon joined in the fun, and the boys welcomed another hot naked body to rub against. Mallory walked back to the bench, turned off his PowerBook and closed his briefcase. He left the three of them as they entered the cleaning up and dressing up part of their programming, then made a call with his cellphone as he headed towards room 31.

“Julia Dreyfuss, please… Julia? Mallory here… I’m walking to his motel room right now… What about the Redfield branch?… Yeah, that would be a hell of a coincidence. Send an Untainted, use a Thrall for the contact. If it’s something of ours, or based on something of ours, it must be recovered; and if it’s a Coinage, it must be confiscated… From Canada? That’s odd. Don’t we have a Thrall there? A Mountie from the old game at the Harriston compound? Frank?… No, Fraser… Have him investigate there as well. What does O’Shea think about all this? Those chemicals are up his alley… Really? I called this morning and couldn’t reach him either… I’ll check… Thanks Julia.”

Mallory was now in front of room 31. Someone was inside, probably Mr. Bloom. How did he get to his room without Mallory hearing him? He probably did so while he was playing with the basketballers. He knocked on the door. No answer. The door was unlocked; he slowly opened it.

“Mr. Bloom?” he said, discreetly.

The room was a mess — four unmade beds floating on a sea of stuff. Odd: Mr. Bloom was supposed to be traveling alone. There was a laptop, turned on. Sitting in front of the computer was Ryan, naked, his discarded clothes spread over those of the room’s guests next to a pile a pile of white towels. He was jerking off to a picture of naked girls playing beach volleyball in the sand. He hadn’t noticed Mallory, who now hid under one of the beds and waited for the boy to finish his program. After spraying the keyboard with his sperm, Ryan regained his senses, used one of the towels to clean his mess as best he could, got dressed, put the other towels in the bathroom, then left. Mallory then set out to work on the laptop, setting a computer snare for dear Mr. Bloom.


“I’d never thought I’d go so far with a guy,” confided Nick to Gary. They were sipping coffee at his magnificent dining room table. “I mean, I let you suck my cock for Chrissakes!” If Nick was playing a role, he was doing it well. He was dressed, now, in a tight black silk T-shirt and jeans. There was no trace of water on him: so why was he still acting as Gary friend?

“What happened after that? Someone struck me from behind. Was it the pool guy?”

“Him? No. He’s in the guest bedroom. I think he’s having some kind of mental breakdown or something. I can’t get him to dress… His dick is all red from all that jerking off. There’s no sperm left in his balls: when he comes, it’s just dry spasms. I should call 911, but he’s begged me not to, saying he’d die of embarrassment, and that he’d get his act together. He hasn’t, so far.”

“So, who knocked me down?”

“I’m not so sure. I’d closed my eyes for the blowjob; then I heard a noise while I was coming and ignored it. I felt your mouth slip off my dick, but I didn’t want to open my eyes. Someone yelled real loud, then something hit the window and broke the glass. When I opened my eyes, I thought I saw someone twisting around in the middle of the rug, but he faded out in a purple flash.”

“A purple flash?”

“Yeah, I know. It doesn’t make sense. I guess I was still doped on my orgasm or something.”

A purple flash. There had to be a link with the purple robed men found at O’Shea’s mansion. Copper protects. Wasn’t the flask made of copper? Maybe it was why the purple man had been in pain. The flask was protected from purple mages. If so, where was the flask now? One of those mages was at the hospital. Maybe it’d be good idea to visit. But now was the time to contact Domination, as he should have done hours ago.


Thirteen hundred miles from Lauderdale-By-The-Sea, in Redfield, Illinois, Brad Perkins was operating a mechanical shovel to dig a huge excavation when he noticed that a man on the edge of the hole was desperately trying to get his attention. He stopped the shovel, jumped out, and then walked towards the man, adjusting his helmet. “There’s a phone call for you,” said the man, who struck Brad as being quite effeminate. God, how he hated faggots!

“My wife?” asked Brad, as he headed towards the office, the effeminate man running behind him.

“No, it’s a man. He wouldn’t leave his name. He says it’s urgent.”

Brad entered the office with the door opened, and took the receiver lying on the desk next to the ‘Albert Findlan, Site Supervisor’ name plate. Mr. Findlan came in and closed the door.

“Hello? This is Brad Perkins. This better be import… Yes…” His voice had suddenly calmed down. “Yes, George… I’ve been a good boy, George.” Mr. Findlan sat in his chair, staring in anticipation as the handsome young blond construction worker’s gaze became fixed and lusterless, his jeans filling up at an alarming speed. Brad listened motionlessly for a long minute, then said: “I will do as instructed, George… Yes, Mr. Findlan is here with me… Yes, George, I will do that.”

Brad hung up, then looked at Mr. Findlan. “George said you could use me for the next half hour,” he said, matter-of-factly, stripped down to a pair of loose white boxers, then walked to stand right next to Mr. Findlan. Mr. Findlan studied Brad’s dirty face beaded with sweat, his smooth chest with the blond fuzz, the thin, rugged legs, and the huge erection coming out of his loose white boxers’ fly. He had fantasized about Brad ever since construction started. Findlan tore off Brad’s boxers, and swallowed his cock with alacrity.


“This is an IP address, you idiot,” said Nick. “I can’t believe you thought it was a phone number!”

They were now in Nick’s office, in front of his computer. Nick typed in «165. 34. 54. 100», the Domination IP address, in Netscape. “You’re such a computer illiterate!” he said while the browser connected. The page turned to a dark forest green, the same color as O’Shea’s suit, and a single question appeared in blood red. “What do you want?” A flashing cursor waited patiently for his answer. Nick typed in «SEX», then was about to press RETURN when Gary stopped him.

“No! We might never get another chance. Type: DOMINATION.”

“Why Domination?”

“Just do it.” Nick looked at him arrogantly. “Please,” added Gary. The drug sure wasn’t working anymore. Nick sighed and entered the word. The page changed to a primitive, bare, web site entrance, offering some kind of catalog. At the bottom, there was a mention that Prowlan and Graham, Inc designed the site. Then, a single line caught Gary’s attention: “Contact DOMINATION”. He snatched the mouse from Nick’s hand and clicked on it. A window appeared.

“This is a chat window,” said Nick. “There is one person on line at this time: Mrs. Winters. If you type something, she’ll see it and will probably respond.”

Gary nodded and typed: “O’Shea gave me the copper flask.”

Soon enough, an answer flashed back: “What’s your location? We’ll send someone right away.”

The Beach

The Beach (by Mafisto)

[Fantasy casting: Michael Bergin as Michael]

Early one summer morning, an hour after having landed at LAX, Trent and his two roommates and travel companions, Jonathan and Kyle, were driving along the Pacific Ocean, eager to discover the fabled beaches of California. The crowded tourist beaches repulsed them, and so they drove south to the Palos Verdes Peninsula, well away from the Pacific Coast Highway. As soon as they left the security of the highway, they followed a series of small, winding back roads through the tough, shifting terrain of the peninsula. They cheered as they passed a sign warning “Constant Land Movement Next 8 Miles” — they were now officially on an adventure. From Palos Verdes Drive, they turned on Paseo Del Mar, a loop road that cut through the bluff top where the Palos Verdes Estates Shoreline Preserve was located. They crossed several smaller paths, and then suddenly Jonathan yelled:

“Slow down! Over here…”

“Are you kidding?” said Trent, readjusting his shades. “We can barely see the path.”

“The more reason to try it.”

They zigzagged down the precipitous ghost path. Sections of the road had been imprinted into endless ridges and dips by giant shoeprints. Yet finally, behind the crags and the dying palm trees, the ocean came majestically into view. They parked next to an abandoned, boarded-up property.

“Woo hoo!” yelled Kyle, pulling his T-shirt off as he ran down towards the beach. “We hit the jack pot, guys! Would you look at this sand?”

Trent and Jonathan caught up with him and took in the sight, for which Trent did the honor of briefly taking off his trademark shades. Sun-sparkling waves of turquoise water swelled and rose and crashed and, with musical rhythm, invaded a beachful of magical, shimmering sand. That sand was unlike any sand Trent had ever seen, metallic white with a subtle golden radiance. They stood, entranced, for a full minute, then, abruptly, Kyle and Jonathan went back to the jeep to pick up their knapsacks and, with uneasy complicity, headed out silently towards the other side of the property to change into their bathing suits.

As he watched them go, Trent’s insides twisted in resentment. He fetched his own knapsack and changed into his Speedo. He had recently told his roommates that he was gay, and, although they at first reacted with warm support, they were obviously uncomfortable with it. They became consistently prude around him, and he missed the time when they would innocently walk around in their underwear or take their shower with him at the gym. A pity, because they both looked fantastic — he was impatient to see them in their Speedos. They had almost cancelled this trip, and in the end had only agreed to come under the condition that they wouldn’t sleep in the same hotel room as him. They had also decided to move out in three months.

Trent got another slap in the face when they came back in modest swim trunks — he knew that they had both packed sexy Speedos, “to show off when we meet the babes.” Yet, even shirtless and in trunks like that, they offered Trent quite an eyeful. He stared at them at an angle from behind the secrecy of his shades. The gym had refined their builds to their natural best, smooth and robust for Kyle, and sharp and thin for Jonathan.

As they raced in the hot liquid sand and swam in the turbulent waters, Trent forgot all about their discrimination. Later, he stretched out on a huge beach towel and watched his friends as they continued to enjoy themselves. He started to notice a curious pattern: regularly, Kyle and Jonathan would appear distracted and stand motionless, eyes fixed on the sand, for some while; then, with a burst of effort, they would snap back to attention, and resume their activities until the next pause. These pauses were becoming longer and more frequent. The guys did not seem to notice this phenomenon: for them, it was as if time stopped periodically, and their brief intervals of consciousness occurred in a continuous sequence. After half an hour, they could barely act for twenty seconds without drifting into a trance for two minutes.

Trent wondered what caused this periodic trance and why he wasn’t affected by it. Only one thing came to his mind: the hypnotic effect of the shimmering sand. He stared at it without his shades: the golden, sparkling radiance of it was mesmerizing, and it actually took him some effort to summon the will to put his shades back in place. The shades! Of course, it was so obvious! That’s what made him immune to the effect.

Determined to explore this phenomenon further, he got up and walked up to them. They were trying to play Frisbee — with their constant lapses of consciousness, they were more often searching for the Frisbee they had failed to catch minutes earlier. When they next slipped into sand-induced sleep, Trent said:

“Kyle, can you hear me?”

“Yeeesss…” said Kyle in a crawling whisper.

Their state was strikingly similar to a hypnotic stupor, which Trent recognized from the several books about hypnosis he had studied. How he had longed to master this skill! All his attempts to put it into practice had flopped miserably, however — he had never been able to exude the necessary authority and charisma. But now, the job was already partly done for him. All he had to do was to deepen and shape the trance…

“Kyle, I want you to count down from 20, slowly. As you get closer to zero, you will gradually fall into a deep, relaxing state, in which you will only be able to hear my voice.”

After a brief hesitation, Kyle started to count: “20… 19… 18…”

Trent, meanwhile, came close to Jonathan and gave him the same instructions. While they counted, he further encouraged their sleep with additional suggestions: “Your eyes are closing… You feel an overpowering numbness in your head…” When they reached zero, their eyes closed, Trent said:

“You are now in a deep hypnotic sleep. I am your friend. You trust me. You can only hear my voice. You will listen to my voice and do what I tell you to do, without question. Repeat what I just told you.”

“I am now in a deep hypnotic sleep,” they both said, almost in sync. “You are my friend. I trust you. I can only hear… your voice. I will… listen to your voice… and do… what you tell me to do… without question.”

Trent made them repeat a few times, and gave them a few basic suggestions. Their reactions were immediate and clear, as in extremely suggestible subjects; the sand had gently made them glide into a perfect state of hypnosis. Jonathan responded with sincere eagerness, as if he was thrilled by the experience, and often would improvise on Trent’s words; Kyle responded with quiet diligence, attentive when Trent spoke, and then executing his instructions meticulously and to the letter. Being in complete control of his roommates like that gave Trent a tickling hard-on. Those were his fantasies coming to life. How vulnerable they were now!

“Good. Now, I want you both to remember this state of trance you are in. Each time you hear me say the word sand, you will go back to that state immediately, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“What will you do when you hear me say the word ‘sand?”

“I will go back…” they answered, “to the trance… to the state of trance… I’m in now.”

“Good. Now, after I count up to three, you will wake up and you won’t remember going into a trance. The only thing on your mind will be that you’d prefer to be in your Speedos instead of these cumbersome trunks.”

Trent made them repeat the suggestion, then counted up to three. Kyle and Jonathan opened their eyes suddenly. They both started to look around for the Frisbee, a bit confused, then Jonathan said: “Eh, I don’t like wearing these trunks, they’re too constraining. I think I’m gonna change into my Speedos.”

Kyle’s face brightened up as if he had figured out some complex puzzle. “That’s why we suck at catching that fucking Frisbee! My suit’s bothering me too. Trent, you don’t mind waiting here while we change?”

“No problem,” said Trent, shrugging with indifference.

While they were changing, Trent heard a vehicle coming down the road and stopping next to the jeep. It was another jeep, a yellow jeep with a ‘LIFEGUARD’ sign. A brawny man came out of it, shirtless, a black T-shirt hanging from his jeans. An extremely sexy man. Aroused as he was, Trent could only see him as prey.

“You’re not allowed to be here,” he said, in a chiding tone but with a gentle, robust voice. “This is private property, and there’s no lifeguard.”

Kyle and Jonathan heard him as they were walking up to Trent in their Speedos.

“Fuck, we were just starting to have fun,” said Jonathan, a bit rudely.

“Let me handle this,” said Trent to his friends. Jonathan raised his eyebrows, but something in Trent’s face convinced him to give him a chance. “What’s your name?” he asked the lifeguard.

“Michael.”

“Michael and I are gonna take a little walk on the beautiful sand…” At the word, Kyle and Jonathan went back into their trance. “Why don’t you two just sit down here and wait for us?”

The two guys immediately slumped and sat down right there on the spot. Michael frowned, then told Trent, bluntly: “There’s no time for a walk. It’s very simple. You must get out of here.”

” We have a permit to scout this place for a movie, you see,” improvised Trent. “I have left my papers in my bag on the beach. Come with me, I’ll show them to you.”

“All right, then,” said Michael with a sigh, and he followed Trent on the sand. After a few steps, he stopped as Trent walked on. Trent turned to look at him, and the lifeguard started to move again.

“You see all this wonderful sand,” said Trent. “It’s the perfect setting for a movie. Just look at it! It’s hypnotic. It makes you lose your concentration… Doesn’t it make your mind go numb?”

Michael paused again, confused. “Yes,” he admitted.

“Listen to those waves as they crash. The rhythm could really make you go deeper and deeper into sleep.”

Michael’s muscular shoulders drooped. He stood there, slowly shifting his weight from feet to feet, eyes on the sand, listening to the waves. After a minute or two of suggestions, Michael the lifeguard was completely hypnotized. Trent gave him the same sand trigger as the others, then said:

“Michael, you’ve seen our papers, and they check out ok. We can scout the area, but since we need to swim, we need a lifeguard. You want to stay here as a lifeguard while we study the place. When I snap my fingers, you will go change into your bathing suit and get your lifeguard equipment.”

Trent snapped his fingers and Michael opened his eyes, a bit bewildered.

“Your papers are ok,” he said, “but you can’t swim with no lifeguard. I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Excellent,” said Trent. He stared at the tanned back and the shapely ass of the dark-haired lifeguard for a second or two, and then followed him up to his friends. They were just sitting there, immobile, their eyes glazed over. Trent waited for Michael to reach inside his jeep, then awoke Kyle and Jonathan.

“We can stay,” he whispered. “The lifeguard thinks you’re actors in a future movie I’ll direct. You just have to play the part.”

“Act like we’re actors?” asked Jonathan.

“Yeah. Can you do that?”

“No problem,” said Kyle. “Great move, man.”

Michael had unzipped his jeans and held a red lifeguard bathing suit in his hands. With a look, he expressed his need for privacy. Trent and his friends walked down to the beach. Kyle and Jonathan went for a swim, but Trent stayed behind, not wanting to take off his shades. Michael returned in his red trunks, carrying a yellow surfboard and looking sexier than ever. He sat down next to Trent and watched the swimmers vigilantly.

“So, what’s the name of that movie you want to make?” he asked, without looking at Trent.

“The Enchanted Beach,” Trent said, after an hesitation. “This is the perfect setting. All this beautiful sand.”

Michael closed his eyes at the trigger. “Michael, you’d do anything to be in my movie. You just know it’s gonna make you rich and famous. If I think your body looks great, you know you’ll get the part, so you’re going to show off your body to me to try to win me over. Now, wake up.”

“So,” said Michael, after a thoughtful pause, “are you still looking for actors?”

“No. Not really… Well, maybe, to be frank, I’m still looking for the lead. The actor I found doesn’t have the kind of body I’m looking for. He’s not athletic enough.”

Michael shivered. He stood up and paced in front of Trent, his eyes still on the swimmers, stretching in a variety of ways to show off his rippling muscles.

“So, you’re looking for an athletic guy?”

“Well, someone who’d look great in a Speedo. A nice ass and a sizeable package.”

Michael stopped pacing, and appeared to consider something. He suddenly said, nervously, “We wear Speedos underneath our shorts. Look.” He lowered his trunks to display his blue Speedo underneath. The skimpy material squeezed his ass and emphasized its well-developed glutei. He turned to face Trent; he looked uneasy when Trent examined him, but stood there courageously. The area close to his groin was a bit hairier than the rest of his legs, and the package in his suit was plump and obvious.

“Do you think I could play the part?” he asked. He was trying his best to look confident, which made him even more uncomfortable. Kyle and Jonathan were coming out of the water.

“I have to think about it,” Trent said, getting up. He left him to walk up to his wet friends.

“What were you doing?” asked Kyle.

Trent said: “Oh, I was just sitting on the sand.”

Once again, his friends froze. “When I snap my fingers, you will go back in the water and swim some more,” Trent said. “As soon as you have water up to your nipples, you will remove your Speedos and leave them in the water. You will forget all about them and swim in the nude, thinking you’re still wearing them.”

They opened their eyes, and stood there, hesitant.

“I’m going back in,” said Jonathan. “Come on, Kyle. This place is great, isn’t it?”

“Fucking A, dude,” said Kyle, following him. Trent’s eyes lingered on their asses, then walked back to Michael, who looked worried.

“Was I too pushy?” he asked. “I don’t want to put you on the spot.”

“Well, it’s just that there is a nude scene.” Michael’s eyes flashed in alarm at the word. His uneasiness worried Trent, who said: ” Just sky, water, flesh and sand.”

Michael closed his eyes again. “Michael,” said Trent. “I will count up to ten, and it will gradually make you lose your inhibitions. When I reach ten, you will be completely open with your body, and at ease and confident even if naked.” He slowly counted up to ten, and then said. “Now, wake up, open and at ease.”

Michael opened his eyes, much more relaxed. “Oh, it’s that kind of movie,” he said. “It’s okay, I guess.”

“If you really want to be in it, you’ll have to show me a bit more of yourself.”

Michael shrugged. “No problem.” He turned his back to Trent and unwrapped his round shapely ass. He discarded his Speedo and turned slowly around to face Trent, his plump soft cock hanging under a dark, fluffy bush. His cut penis was thick and as long as his extended hand. Trent gasped involuntarily at the sight. He took a deep breath, taking time for the event to sink in. He had successfully hypnotized this lifeguard, who now stood naked before him, eager for him to approve of his body.

“Nice,” he said. “Really nice.” Michael smiled.

Trent saw that Kyle and Jonathan were back at the edge of the water, crouched, with only their heads out. They were looking at the nude lifeguard, puzzled. “Wait here,” Trent said.

He went up to them and yelled: “On the sand. Come join us on the sand.”

Their eyes glazed, Kyle and Jonathan stood up, water dripping from their naked bodies. Trent had seen them in the shower before, but only with furtive looks. Now they were on display. As they walked towards Trent, he examined their bodies with delight. Their recent bout of shyness had hurt him so much. Kyle uncut cock was like a thick sausage of meat; Jonathan’s was cut, a thin and long hose over low hanging balls. Michael had heard Trent’s yell, and also stood motionless with his eyes closed. Once they were all together, a group of three forbidden men, nude and under his control, Trent walked around them a few times, checking them out. Jonathan’s butterfly tattoo on his left cheek, Kyle’s thick protruding ass, Michael’s finely chiseled body.

“After I count to three, you will wake up and be aware that you are naked, but you will not be able to cover yourself or get dressed or do anything which might hide your genitals from me. You will not be able to leave, or move to attack me. You will respond to any suggestion I make, instantly, but you will forget I made it and you won’t identify me as the source of your problems. You’ll even think that I can help you.”

Trent made them repeat this long suggestion until they understood it perfectly. “1… 2… 3…”

The men stretched, lazily, and then were instantly alarmed.

“What the fuck?” said Jonathan, twisting around to find his clothes.

“Shit! I’m naked,” said Kyle, also scanning the ground frantically to find some clothes.

Michael did not say a word — he only blushed as if he had gotten an instant sunburn on his face, and also discreetly checked the surroundings for his clothes. It was funny to see how they ignored the towels or Michael’s clothes as if they weren’t there. When they got used to the idea that there was nothing around to cover them, they tried other ways to enforce their modesty. Michael tried to hide his genitals with his arms and hands, but they refused to move in front of his groin. He became even redder and started to sweat, but the muscular guy just couldn’t move his own arms. Jonathan tried to run away to the jeep but after a few steps, he stumbled down in the sand. He stood up, only to be bumped into by Kyle. The two of them then stood up and tried again, but involuntarily veered back towards Trent; they came back to their starting point before they realized they had been running in the wrong direction.

“As soon as you hear me say your name,” said Trent, “you will get a full hard-on.”

“Turn away, Trent,” ordered Jonathan angrily. “You shouldn’t take advantage of the situation.”

“It’s not my fault you’re naked, Jonathan,” said Trent. Jonathan’s cock rose to attention as if pulled up by an invisible string; the loose hose was now a rigid pipe. Jonathan blanched at the involuntary reaction.

“Trent, come on,” said Kyle. “You know it’s embarrassing for us to be like that in front of you. I know you must enjoy the show, but do something. God, I can’t believe I’m standing naked in front of a faggot.”

His words enraged Trent. “What do you want me to do, Kyle?” he asked, and then stared brazenly at Kyle’s cock, as it thickened to monstrous proportions. Kyle opened his mouth to answer, but just managed to gape.

“You could go and get us some clothes or towels or something,” answered Michael, in Kyle’s place.

Trent looked at Michael, who was glaring at him. “Michael,” he said. Michael’s cock soon pointed straight up like an arrow, shining with pre-cum. “Gee. Is indecent exposure a part of your lifeguard’s duty?”

Michael looked down, avoiding Trent’s gaze. His embarrassment paralyzed him.

“Why don’t you all masturbate for me?” Trent suggested and in sync, their hands moved to stroke their hard dicks against their wills.

“Why am I doing that?” cried Michael in despair, “I just want to get away from here.”

“Trent, do something,” pleaded Jonathan. He had wrapped his index and thumb like a ring around his dick, and was sliding them quickly up and down. “Fuck, and look us in the face goddammit. Have a little respect.”

“I don’t want to spoil your fun in the sand,” explained Trent. Their faces became blank, but they continued to stroke their cocks routinely. “I will count up to three, then you will wake up and act as if it was perfectly normal to be naked and aroused as you are. All your inhibitions will vanish, and you will react positively to any sexual touch or proposition. 1… 2… 3…”

They became animated again. Trent smiled at them, and they smiled back. “Are you enjoying yourselves so far?” he asked his friends.

“A fucking great day,” said Jonathan, enthusiastically, seemingly unaware of his rock-hard cock pointing at Trent. “I’m really glad we found this beach, dude.”

“And you?” asked Trent to Kyle as he moved behind him and started to massage his shoulders.

“Me too,” Kyle said simply and sincerely.

Touching Kyle’s back like that aroused Trent beyond belief. He sampled his straight friend’s thick ass cheeks, spreading them open, and didn’t get even a whisper of protest. He hugged him from behind, caressing his chest, his erection rubbing against Kyle’s ass. He played with Kyle’s nipples, and then rubbed his inner thighs. “You don’t mind, do you Kyle?”

Kyle, who had lost focus for a moment, simply said: “Uh… No, that’s ok.”

Trent moved next to the sleek Jonathan and started to play with his balls. “Do you think we should spend the day here?” he asked.

“Sure, it’d be great. Why not?”

“Thanks,” Trent said, and then kissed him on the lips. He responded by opening his mouth, which Trent took as an invitation. His tongue came in and the kiss became long, wet and passionate.

“Kyle, Jonathan, why don’t you try sucking each other’s cock?” proposed Trent, as he took off his Speedo.

They shrugged. “That could be cool,” said Jonathan. They stretched out on the sand in a 69 position.

“It’s a bit strange for me,” said Kyle. “Do you know how to do this?”

“Pretend it’s a lollypop or an ice cream cone,” said Jonathan. ‘That’s what I tell my girlfriends.” He started to lick the tip of Kyle’s dick. Kyle preferred starting on the side of Jonathan’s thinner and longer member.

Trent stepped up to Michael, standing nude in the sand beside his discarded red shorts and blue Speedos. “That’s very nice of you to have accommodated us like that,” said Trent. “I think I may have a part for you in the movie. I just need to check something out.”

“No problem,” Michael said. “I’m open to anything.”

Trent kneeled before the godlike lifeguard, and licked his erection while fingering his balls. With his other hand, he made his way to Michael asshole and inserted a finger in his anus. Next, he took the lifeguard’s hard cock in his mouth and suckled it at first, getting accustomed to its size, then finally swallowed it whole. Michael could not hide his pleasure. He let out a few muffled moans.

Trent got up and moved behind Michael, his hand lingering on his chest, “I want to try fucking your ass, Michael,” he asked. “What do you think?”

“Sure, yeah, try it,” he said, bending over and spreading his ass open. “I told you I’m open to anything. I’ve never done this, am I in the right position?”

“On your knees… Yeah, that’s it… Now relax your anus… Good…”

Trent carefully penetrated Michael’s ass. It took some time for the straight lifeguard to relax, but Trent finally entered the cozy, mellow place inside him, and soon, he was fucking him with abandon. He fucked the man until he came very close to coming, then said: “It’s such a nice day to play in the sand.”

His three subjects were now entranced again. “Now,” he said, “for the grand finale… I will count up to ten, and as I count, you will become extremely horny for each other’s bodies, especially for mine. You will obey my every command without restraint and call me ‘Master’.”

He made sure they understood this one, for he wanted the moment to be perfect. Then, he counted up to ten, and as the three men opened their eyes, he instantly felt the change. There was animal lust in their eyes. They started to circle each other, slowly, cautiously, eyeing each detail of the other bodies, then finally the lust won over and they grabbed each other viciously, their mouths, hands and cocks all over one another’s bodies. They eventually crashed down in the sand, and Trent walked in the middle of them.

“Take care of me now,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” said Michael, in his deep, sax-like voice, and he stood up to kiss him hungrily.

“Yes, Master,” said Kyle, and he crawled behind him to lick his ass and anus.

“Yes, Master,” said Jonathan, and he kneeled before him to suck his cock voraciously.

Trent couldn’t contain it anymore. He said: “I will count up to ten, and you will all have the best orgasm you ever had without even touching yourselves.”

He started to count, and the day’s events came rushing to his mind: “1…” Jonathan and Kyle hiding to change their clothes; “2…” Michael in his sexy jeans; “3…” Kyle and Jonathan taking off their Speedos in the ocean; “4…” Michael stripping off his Speedo for him; “5…” Kyle and Jonathan coming out of the sea nude and dripping; “6…” the three of them frantically looking for their clothes; “7…” Michael blushing because he stood naked and erect; “8…” Kyle and Jonathan sucking each other in the sand; “9…” Michael opening his ass to him; “10…” Kyle, Jonathan and Michael at his feet, having sex together like beasts, calling him “Master”.

A painful, hot surge came from his balls up to the tip of his dick, and he spattered Michael’s tanned chest with cum, which trickled down to his dark bush. His three sex slaves moaned and yelled in ecstasy, and sprayed him with warm, gooey cum, on the chest and on each leg. They all collapsed on the sand, and went to sleep, spent.


A week later, the three travel companions entered the apartment they shared. Kyle and Jonathan shuffled to their bedrooms, dropped their knapsacks to the floor, and crashed on their beds. Trent left the door open for Michael, who came in, dressed in a black T-shirt and those sexy jeans of his, and carrying a huge gym bag.

“Thanks, Trent, for the hospitality. I always wanted to visit New York City. There are a few bars I want to visit. I heard the chicks here are crazy. But, first, I want to hit the sack. I’m exhausted.”

“My bed is a Queen,” said Trent. “You’ll have all the comfort you need.”

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d be more comfortable on the couch… Nothing personal.”

Trent glared at him in anger. With all the power he had known in the last week, he had become quite intolerant himself. Michael was apologetic. “I didn’t want to…”

Trent took off his shoes, shook them, and said, loud enough to be heard by everyone in the apartment. “Look at all the sand that crept up in my shoes.”

A few minutes later, he was lying down in his bed, watching Michael step out of his boxers, then stretch his warm naked body over Trent’s. Michael whispered in his ear: “I am here for you, Master.”

“We’re here for you, Master,” echoed Kyle and Jonathan as they entered the bedroom, naked, moved to each side of the bed, and started jerking off.