The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

15.

Intensity is inversely proportional to distance. But what is a safe distance?

Jump to the part on the bus coming back from the away game.

No, I hadn’t played in the game--damn leg!--but I got to ride along on the bus with the rest of the team. Clay and me, we’re turned around in our seats, talking to Lex and Martin behind us. Our team had won the game against our big rivals--Woo hoo! It was a major upset for them since we were expected to lose big time, so we were all riding high on that euphoria that comes from kicking major ass. Martin had scored the winning goal--he was the fucking hero! We were sure to knock the football team back to second billing in the next issue of the campus newspaper--again! Man, were Halsey and his crew ever going to be pissed! And you know what? I didn’t give a shit.

The bus got us back to the gym, and someone suggested we all take a shower before we headed over to the victory party at one of the local bars. Hell, that sure sounded great to me! We hadn’t showered or changed out of our uniforms since the game, so it would feel good to get clean before I picked up some adoring chick at the victory party to screw all night long.

Nobody said anything about it, but as we all headed to the locker rooms, yelling and horsing around and shit like that, shirts already coming off, Jake headed directly to the chin-up bars. Like I said, there were two sets of bars, and Martin took the other.

They had the right idea! They pumped out a set, and when they dropped back down, looking so relaxed and focused, we were all practically clamoring to take our turns too.

Pretty soon, we were all in the locker room. We were all sitting on the benches as Coach and Doc talked us down. And then--seemed almost too soon!--Doc snapped his fingers and we were grinning and howling and hollering and stripping down the rest of the way in a hurry and rushing to the showers to get cleaned up.

I was so deeply relaxed and hard before the water even touched my body. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with a little pre-celebration celebration, is there?

And some of the guys carried Martin in, and they were chanting his name over and over at the top of their lungs. Martin made the winning goal--this celebration was all about him! Some of the other guys parted to free up a shower head, and they parked Martin under it, slapping his back and yelling in his face, and he swept water away from his eyes and howled right back at them with this big shit-eating grin, and Jake knelt behind him and spread Martin’s cheeks and dove face-first between then, driving his tongue around Martin’s crack--leave it to Jake to be the first to try something new--and Martin’s eyes popped wide open ‘cause I guess nobody ever did that to him before, and Martin howled out something like, “Oh, yeah, eat my ass,” over the choral hiss of the showers and guys hollering, and Clay crouched in front of Martin and proceeded to blow him, and Lex bent over both of them to lick at Martin’s nipple.

Their play was contagious. Somebody’s hands reached for my body, and then I sank into a sea of hard cocks and hands and mouths, them touching me, me touching them, everybody touching everybody, and someone spurted cum on my chest, and the air was full of grunts and little moans and cries of pleasure, and someone came across my thigh, and then I was cumming too.

I dragged myself out of the shower. I’d cum twice and after the hard soccer game, feeling this relaxed, all I wanted to do was close my eyes again and groove to the feeling. Jake, Martin, and I were the first ones out of the team’s shower celebration, and Lex and Clay was following close behind. We grabbed our towels and played a little “pop the butt” as we trotted back into the locker area.

Doc stood there talking to another guy. “Martin,” Doc said, turning our way, “look who’s come to see you.”

The other guy was Adam, Martin’s older brother. I’d met him once, a while back. He had gone to a different university, and he been a major football star a couple of years ago. If I remembered correctly, it was the same university Doc used to work for--no wonder they knew each other--the same one Nathan and Shane came from. But Martin told me that a while back--last I heard, Martin said Adam was a pro ball player and worked part-time in a bar during the off-season and did some modeling work on the side.

Martin slung his towel over his bare shoulder and hurried over to shake his brother’s hand, and Adam pulled him into a hug, apparently not caring that Martin was all naked and still dripping wet.

Doc said he and Adam were old friends, and it was Adam who had invited us to hold our victory celebration at his bar. Free drinks!

Now, these were three of our favorite subjects--victory celebration, free drinks, and a star athlete--all in one spot. Martin, Jake, Lex, Clay, and I crowded around. While I was noticing how Adam was standing there with a familiar expression on his face, Doc was saying, “We’re going to have a special surprise when we get to the bar. Won’t that be fun?”

That familiar, peacefully focused expression that had me thinking, What the fuck?

And to Adam, Doc said, “Would you do the honors, please?”

“Sure,” Adam murmured as if talking in his sleep.

And then Adam was reaching his hands up for Martin’s and Jake’s heads, reaching for that special spot behind their ears, touching, and their eyes began to close.

Adam said, Shh ...

He reached for the spot behind Clay’s ear, and Lex’s, and their heads sagged forward.

Adam told us, Just focus.

Adam touched the spot behind my ear, pressed firmly enough to tilt my head forward, and commanded, Just sleep.

When I opened my eyes again, that peaceful, relaxed feeling still filled me, feeling so innocent and unified with everything and everyone. I looked around. I was wedged into the back seat of a car. Doc had just snapped his fingers, but we hadn’t awakened fully. None of us had or wanted to. We were all caught, eyes open, in a waking trance.

Doc had just pulled into a parking lot. From outside, the bumpa-thumpa-bumpa-thumpa bassline of some dance mix blasting on a sound system announced that we had arrived at the club for our victory party.

We climbed out of the car. These weren’t my clothes. None of us were wearing our regular clothes. I was wearing some kind of uniform, dark, with a badge. A policeman’s uniform. Cool, some part of me thought, I always wanted to be a cop. The badge wasn’t real, but the rest of the uniform looked one hundred percent authentic.

Martin was dressed as a lifeguard: white tank top with a red cross and the word LIFEGUARD stamped in an arc over it, red shorts with a little white cross over one thigh, beach sandals.

Clay was dressed in a military uniform--Navy--complete with the cap and boots.

Lex looked like a skatepunk. White tee-shirt, sneakers, and ratty cargo shorts sagging low enough to show a couple of inches of boxer shorts over the waist.

And Jake? Jake looked like some kind of construction worker. This tattered old tee-shirt that looked like it had been washed in broken glass, slashes letting little glimpses of skin tease through, and tight jeans, so sexy-snug you could see every cut and ridge, and a bright yellow hardhat.

Please don’t compare us to the Village People.

Doc led us into the club. The doorman didn’t even look up at us at first He said, “Okay, that’s ten dollars cover each, guys, and I need to see some ID.” Then he glanced up and saw Doc. “Oh, hey--I didn’t know it was you. This must be the new bunch, huh? Go right on in. Can’t wait to see them in action.”

Doc led us inside.

Directly ahead, five naked guys were dancing on a long, narrow stage. Around them, standing, sitting at tables, watching, were nothing but men, a lot of men. There was an electric, sexy tension in the air. As I watched, a guy reached up and a dancer knelt down, and the guy slipped a bill into the elastic armband the dancer wore around his bicep, and the dancer thanked the guy with a smile and a kiss on the forehead.

Part of me thought, This has to be the wrong bar.

But there in the back were Coach and the rest of the team. They waved, and we waved back. We didn’t head their way, though--Doc took us to an empty table off to the side.

“Pay close attention,” he said.

The DJ yowled over the dance music: “Awwwright, thanks to our beautiful boys! Now we’re bringing to the stage Curt, Bryce, Anthony, and ... one of your favorites, Adam! Please welcome our next dancers to the stage!”

And the dancers already onstage grabbed shorts or pants and pulled them on and hopped off the stage. Four new men jumped up and started dancing. One of them, the one closest to us, was Martin’s brother Adam. He flashed us a cockeyed grin and a wink as he pulled off his shirt, then his attention turned to the foot of the stage, where a patron held up a dollar bill.

By the end of the song, they were all shirtless, pants open, flashing little glimpses of the treasures barely hidden inside. By the end of the second song, they were down to their underwear. And once the third song began they were naked, bumping and grinding with dollars bulging under the elastic bands they wore around their biceps. They were all grinning and seemed to be having a blast, and I thought, I’d sure love to get up there and try that myself. I watched Adam like a hawk, watching the way he teased his audience, gave them a little bonus glimpse of the goods close up as a reward for their bill, worked them for tips.

And then the DJ was bellowing, “Now we’ve got a special surprise for you. Our next set of beautiful boys are first-timers. And the word is, they’re star athletes at one of our local colleges--how hot is that, huh? Let’s welcome to the stage ... Martin, Lex, Clay, Kip, and Jake. Oh, man, they just keep getting hotter and hotter, don’t they? Yow!”

When the DJ called our names, I looked at Jake and he looked at me, and we were both grinning like fools. We practically ran to the stage and jumped onto it. Adam, back in his jeans now with the rest of his clothes bundled under his arm, gave me a good-luck slap on the back as he climbed down.

So I was up onstage and the DJ was spinning this hot dance mix, and I pulled off my police uniform tie. There were colored lights shining in our eyes from the ceiling. All the guys down on the floor were looking at us, and our teammates in the back were yelling and whistling at us, and the music was deafening us with booma-booma-boom! Jake pulled off his shirt, and I started unbuttoning mine and pulled it off too, loving the way the lights and air and the men’s eyes felt on my bare skin.

This guy came up to the edge of the stage, looking at me hungrily. I danced my way over to him and knelt. He reached up with a dollar bill in his hand and tucked it this black elastic band around my right bicep. Hmm--I didn’t remember putting on that band, but it was cool that it was there. I gave the guy a little hug and a wink before returning to my dance.

Into the third song, I was naked, with everything hanging out and swinging for everyone to see--we all were. Our armbands were bulging with tips. We were bumping, grinding, and having a lot of fun onstage. Even Coach and some of our teammates came up to tip us. Man, we were having a blast!

“What a performance!” the DJ bellowed over the music. “Now let’s bring to the stage ...” That meant our set was over, and we started reaching for our clothes.

I pulled on my pants and shoes, and hopped off the stage as fresh dancers climbed past me onto it.

The first guy who had come up and tipped me onstage--he intercepted me. He said, “I wanna go with you to the back room.”

I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but Martin’s brother Adam, with his shirt still off after his performance, leaned in over my shoulder with a grin and shouted over the music at the man, “For a surprisingly small gratuity, that can be arranged.” He congratulated me with a smack on the back. “You got your first private dance,” he shouted in my ear over the din of the next song. All smiles, because he liked to keep the “energy level” up. “Woo hoo, dude! It’s your first time, right?”

“What’s a private dance?” I yelled back. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I already knew. Part of me knew that was the reason I was there, that Doc would want me to do this, but part of me hesitated.

Adam hollered to me over the music, “C’mon! Doc wants me to show ya the ropes. This is gonna be fun.” Adam led the guy and me back through a door into the back, to a private room with a small stage. “Let’s go in here.” He held open the door and grinned his most electrifying grin and said to the guy, “Hope you don’t mind a two-for-one special.”

In spite of the drowsy fog that filled my head, I was figuring out what a private dance was. I was wondering what Adam was doing--was he inserting himself into the scene to make himself a tip?

“I wanna fuck your ass,” the guy said, over the muffled dance music coming from outside. He was staring right at me, ignoring Adam.

“That can be arranged,” Adam said, “for an additional gratuity.”

I made myself say, “No way--I don’t get fucked.”

“Shhh,” Adam said to me. “The customer always gets what he wants.” He flipped on a switch, and the overhead lights went out, replaced by a cheap light show over the stage that mimicked the one outside, on a smaller scale. “That’s what I’m here for, buddy. I’ll help you through it”

Maybe Jake could have talked me into it, but this customer was not one of my teammates, and Adam wasn’t Jake. I said, “No, Adam--I don’t--“

“Shhh. Just go along, okay?”

Adam mounted the small stage and began to dance. I climbed up with him, shimmying alongside him. The customer stared right at me, with a hunger that disturbed me in spite of the calmness that my training spread through me.

The customer said, “How much?”

By then, Adam and I had our shirts and shoes off and our pants open. Adam knelt at the edge of the stage and said, “Well, now, it’s his first time at the club, and as you can see he’s a very attractive young man. I think we’re talking about ...” He leaned in close to the customer and whispered in his ear.

The customer watched me the entire time. When Adam pulled back, the customer evaluated at me for another moment, then nodded at Adam.

Adam grinned, like he’d been expecting this. “Don’t worry,” he said, clasping my head between his hands. “You’ll do fine.”

And when his finger pressed into that special spot behind my ear, I felt the world drop away.

Adam told me, Focus.

Adam said, Resistance melting away.

Adam whispered, For the team.

Adam knelt before me, sliding my policeman’s uniform pants down. I stepped out of my pants when he told me to. I was hard. I was ready. Now I was willing. My butt had this tingly feeling, like it needed to be filled. Seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

16.

Do you remember those old stories about the space shuttle explosion? All those pieces fell to earth, burning and smoking, and afterward the NASA people gathered up as many pieces as they could find. They used this huge airplane hanger and tried to put the pieces back together as best they could. But the more they tried to put it together, like a giant jigsaw puzzle, the more it called attention to the holes and pieces they hadn’t found yet. Their jigsaw puzzle became a map of what’s missing. Memory works this way too.

Jump to the part where they were talking about how their pieces of Doc’s jigsaw were coming together.

No, let’s back up a moment first. Shane, he told me he originally used to be a math teacher--now he’s computer science. Doc talked him into it. Shane will put that mind of his to work creating special kinds of software Nathan originally wanted to get a psychology degree, maybe go into something unambitious like social work. Now--and Doc insisted--Nate’s going to become a psychologist, a therapist, make a lot of money, have a lot of influence over people’s lives, maybe write a self-help book and hit the talk show circuit touting some “you can do it too” approach. Jake--well, Jake said he changed his major from “undeclared” to political science. A conversation with Doc about career goals set him on that path, gave his life the direction he’d been lacking. He’s planning to go into politics, maybe someday run for Congress or President and make laws that affect everything. The way everybody loves Jake, the way he can already talk anyone into anything, he’ll be good at politics.

Me, I changed my major to business management. I’m planning to get an MBA, become the next Wall Street hotshot, get myself promoted up the ranks to the corporate halls of power. I’m going to run a Fortune 500 conglomerate by the time I’m forty. Maybe that’s less flashy and media-conscious than what the others will be doing, but it’s an important role, and Doc wants me to do it. I know I’m going to find the business courses interesting.

I guess the whole lot of us reduced down to “tools” and “goals.” Goals were the guys Doc had to have on his team, the goals he had to achieve, the really valuable ones like Jake, Nate, and Shane who will work as his disciples and recruiters. Tools, like Taylor, like me too probably, were just guys Doc used to get access to something else.

Taylor wasn’t a goal. Getting Jake was a goal. Doc accomplished that. Everyone loves Jake. Through Jake, Doc can get anyone, reel them in gaping and big-eyed as fish. But Taylor, Taylor was just a tool.

I’d been hanging out a lot with Shane. For a geek, he was pretty cool. Seemed like the most natural thing in the world to want to spend as much time as I could with him--when I wasn’t training with the team and he wasn’t off doing God-knows-what for Doc, that is. When he had to have a talk with Jake and Nathan, I asked if I could sit in. Shane told me I could wait for him in my room, since I’d probably get bored, but I wanted to be there just to be near Shane. He said if that’s what I wanted, it was fine with him.

Jake was there with Taylor, and Nathan was there with Jason, the president of our fraternity chapter. They met in the little room next to the television room. I thought that room used to be a storage room, but I saw it had been cleared out, all clean and well-lit inside.

They had a chair and a couple of couches pulled in there. Nathan in a pair of gym shorts parked himself in the chair, with Jason in his boxer-briefs sitting cross-legged on the floor between at his feet, arms cocked over Nathan’s knees. Jake in his briefs took one of the couches, Taylor in jeans and socks beside him, leaning in with his head on Jake’s shoulder. Shane in his boxers chose the other couch, and I in my sweatpants decided I should sit with him. Well, not exactly sit--there was plenty of extra room so I kind of sprawled out along the unused half with my legs hanging over the couch arm and my head in Shane’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind a bit, kept idly stroking my hair, which felt nice and relaxing.

Shane was asking how everything was going--was everyone moving forward on schedule? Nathan said Jason had been introducing him to the members of the tennis team--he patted Jason’s head when he said that and Jason grinned happily. Nathan said Jason’s fellow tennis team members were falling into line nicely, and I could guess what that meant. It made sense for Doc to delegate--even he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

Shane asked Jake how his “special project” was going. Jake said, “It’s going great,” and patted Taylor’s thigh. “I’ve gotten myself invited to dinner on Friday.”

Taylor, thick-voiced and dreamy, toyed with Jake’s nipple and drawled, “Yeah, it’ll be just my dad and us. My mom’s gone to visit my aunt for the weekend and my brother is on a camping trip with his friends.”

Jake grinned. “By Monday, his father will be ready to meet Doc.”

I kind of figured out one piece right then, the piece about why Doc was having Jake invest so much time with Taylor. Through Taylor, Doc gets introduced to his father, the Dean of Admissions. Through the Dean, Doc gets control of the whole admissions process. He gets to control who comes in, and who gets educated for the next generation of service. He gets a whole school where everyone is handpicked to be there, for the sole purpose of being recruited and trained in Doc’s master plan, a whole team of future business, civic, and government leaders streaming out into society, doing their parts to make sure the tasks Doc sets out for them come true.

Taylor giggled softly, like Doc meeting his dad was what he wanted more than anything else in the world. Maybe it was. He reached down into Jake’s lap, started massaging the lump in his briefs.

“Easy, tiger,” Jake said, half-heartedly pushing Taylor’s hand away from the rising. “Time for that later.”

Taylor protested--“Aww”--but allowed his hand to be diverted.

“Good boy,” Jake said, sliding his arm around Taylor’s shoulders.

“Sounds good to me,” Jason said, turning between Nathan’s legs and pushing his face into the mound in Nathan’s shorts. Nathan laughed and patted Jason’s head.

This time, when Taylor reached for Jake’s lump again, Jake didn’t push him away. Taylor started kneading it, totally focused on what he was doing Jake and Nathan leered at each other.

I couldn’t believe how hungry they were for it, or how open. I murmured, “Wow ...”

Shane stroked his hand down my arm the way you might stroke a pet’s back. “Yeah,” he said, agreeing. “It’s cool Doc lets us have our favorites.”

I looked up at him, aware of the swelling in his crotch under my head. “So Taylor’s with Jake, and Jason is with Nathan--who is yours?”

He looked at me funny for a moment and said, “Never mind. Just relax and let’s have some fun too, okay?” Then he reached under my head and pulled down the front of his briefs. I rolled over, and his cock sprang out to meet me. I inhaled the male muskiness of him and ran my tongue along his shaft, wanting only to make him feel good.

17.

What if, hypothetically speaking, Doc is more than just some two-dimensional predator taking advantage of an interesting situation?

Jump to the club again.

Sitting there, the stroke light flickering at my eyes and the skin of my bare chest kept me relaxed. One-two-three, pause--one-two-three, pause. From where I sat, at the table beside Doc, waiting for my next turn onstage, it was in my sight wherever I looked. Sometimes there was this little cloud of fog released from the smoke machine over the stage, which diffused the strobe into a peaceful pulse, encouraging me to let go, relax, accept. Alert and focused, but also tranquil and dreamy at the same time. Body so heavy and limp.

Lex, shirt off, sat in front of Doc. Doc massaged his bare shoulders and neck, sometimes stroking his hands as far down as the top of Lex’s jeans. Lex, enjoying it, had his head lolling limply forward and eyes closed, as if almost completely asleep. I knew that feeling. Each stroke pulled him deeper, helped him relax more.

Jake, back in just his jeans and sneakers now that his performance was over, slid down off the stage, body moving so smoothly, with his tips still tucked under the band encircling his right biceps, passing through the crowd, gripping an arm here, smiling and saying hey to someone there. It was in the half-smile on his face, beautiful as a fallen angel, and the way his shirtless body filled out his snug jeans.

His smile said, Sex.

The roll of his hips and half-hard sex inside his jeans said, Horny.

Every motion was pregnant, whispering its promise, Passion.

He stopped by a couple of tables to smile and thank some of the guys for their tips. He paused when the guy at the table next to us caught his attention. Jake stood there, absently running his palm over his bare abs as he talked, flirting with the guy at the table beside us, working him, negotiating. The guy handed Jake a few bills, and Jake grinned seductively and sank into the chair beside him.

The guy, facing us over Jake’s profile, was totally into Jake, pursing his mouth in anticipation. Jake slouched his gorgeous body down in the chair, stretching out his bare torso and jeans-clad legs for the guy. Jake was grinning, eyes heavy-lidded and fluttering, at the guy. Jake ran his fingertips slowly, firmly, down his abs, letting them slip just barely into the top of his jeans before he pulled them slowly, seductively, back up toward his nipple. The guy bit his lower lip and said something furtively into Jake’s ear over the music. Jake grinning and, mouth next to the guy’s ear, said something back: a price. The guy thought about it, eyes glued to Jake’s finger tips as they traced their route back down the ridges of his tight abs. The man only took a second to come to a decision, and handed over another clump of folded bills, which disappeared from Jake’s hand into the front left pocket of his jeans.

Jake slouched so far down that his ass barely clung to the edge of the chair. He kept grinning sexily at the guy, his eyelids moving languidly. He didn’t stop the guy as he reached for Jake’s belt and unfastened it. Jake’s left hand slipped into the guy’s lap, where I couldn’t see it between them, but I could see the rhythmic motion of Jake’s arm as he massaged the guy’s crotch through his pants. The guy had his hand covering Jake’s crotch, kneading the swelling there with the heel of his palm. Jake let this go on a second, shifting his torso slightly to let the guy know how good it felt, and then he pushed the guy’s hand back and ran the index finger of his right hand along the bottom of the rise in the crotch of his jeans. They were lost in their own little world, apparently not caring who saw, though Jake occasionally glanced over at us, at Coach and Doc, and gave a little smile, as if he knew we were watching and liked it.

The guy mouthed something into Jake’s ear, a request. Jake focused on the guy again and let his seductive grin reel him in as Jake gave back a quick answer. The guy nodded curtly and handed over another bill. Jake let the guy unsnap his jeans, then pull the zipper down. The guy was biting his lower lip, eager, as he ran his fingers into the opening and caressed what lurked inside.

Jake squirmed happily a little and let the guy knead him for half a minute, then took the guy’s wrist and pulled it firmly, almost regretfully away. The guy whispered another request, eyes pleading, and Jake shook his head and said something back. The guy mouthed back an offer. Jake considered it a second, then nodded, and another bill slid into his left pants pocket. In return, the guy’s hand disappeared into Jake’s open jeans and drew out his rigid cock: nice heft, long, sleek, perfectly shaped, the foreskin already pulled back, slight upward curve.

Jake looked over at us and winked, then lifted his right leg and put his foot on the table, blocking most of my view. The shift turned his hips toward the guy a little more, and a couple of inches of fine ass cheek and crack appeared over the top of Jake’s jeans in the back. I saw the head of Jake’s cock appear and disappear as the guy’s fist wrapped around it and jacked him slowly, up, down, up, down. Part of me said they shouldn’t be doing that in a bar, not in public like that. Another part said it was okay because we were in the back where no one else could see, and anyway the guy was paying for it.

After a minute, Jake again tried to pull the guy’s hand away, half-heartedly, making his point. The guy got the idea and turned over another bill--several. Jake grinned his biggest grin. In return, he settled back in the chair, hands gripping the sides of the seat, letting the guy continue to jack him. Jake’s eyes continued to flicker. The guy’s attention was entirely focused on Jake’s crotch and what he was doing there. Jake’s chest tightened, and his abs too, and his mouth opened in a slightly gasp, trying to be cool about it but still enjoying the feeling. Then his abs spasmed, just a little, carefully concealed from anyone farther away than me, and his body held itself tightly for nearly half a minute, as it clung to the moment and the pleasure, his orgasm, before gradually giving way and relaxing back in the chair.

Jake grinned at the guy languidly, and the guy grinned back. Their heads came together and they whispered a couple of things together: thanks and encouragements. The guy took a wad of napkins from the table and wiped them over his hand and Jake’s stomach. Jake bent in and gave the guy a flirtatious kiss on the cheek and the guy did the same back. The guy handed over a last bill, a nice tip, as Jake tucked himself away and closed up his jeans and belt. A last hug, and then Jake climbed to his feet and rejoined us, handing over the tips from under his armband and his pocketful of bills to Doc. Looked like a lot too.

18.

What you have to love about seduction is, every step is an irrevocable decision. You charging ahead, thinking you’re in control of the game. It’s the same with drinking booze, taking pills, painkillers, sex, hypnosis--every action is a definite next step down some road.

Jump to the part with Jake.

Doc had been hypnotizing us for weeks, maybe months--the passage of time didn’t mean much anymore. Or, more accurately, he’d been helping us hypnotize ourselves.

Sometimes I’d be on my bed, studying--studying came so easily to me now--and Jake would come in.

I’d be stretched out on my side on my bed, reading over a textbook or my notes, wearing just my shorts, stretched out lazily on my bed, and Jake would come in. Maybe he’d be wearing just his lucky boxers, or sometimes later in the evening he’d be nude so I’d see his big old dick and couldn’t take my eyes off it, or sometimes in the afternoon he’d be fresh from class and still fully dressed. He’d look at me and grin. He’d walk over and reach out his hand. Part of me knew what he was going to do, but I never pulled away--no, if anything, I’d lean in toward him a little.

His fingertips, curling behind my ear, would stroke that special spot Doc had showed us.

Jake would be saying, Time to take a break.

Jake would smile and whisper, Just lie back.

Jake would press his fingertips to that spot and tell me, Sleep.

And sometimes I’d wake to find myself sprawled on my back, on my bed, naked alongside my forgotten textbook. I’d awake to find Jake naked and bent over me, blowing me, his mouth feeling so sweet and wet on my hard cock.

And maybe I’d reach down and put my hand around his cock to stroke him. Maybe I’d run the fingertips o my other hand across his scalp, probing for the spot behind his ear.

Maybe I’d whisper, Let go.

Maybe I’d murmur into his ear, Just relax and let it happen.

Maybe I’d pull him up onto my narrow bed alongside me and say, Let’s make each other feel really good.

19.

Every life moves toward, then radiates from, a single moment in time.

Jump to the part that might be the moments for three other guys in my story

I got back to the frat house kind of late that night, after a marathon research session in the library--hey, studying may have come a lot easier with my new focus, but those papers still didn’t write themselves! Anyway, I walked in. Most of the other guys were asleep by then.

Early to bed, early to rise, right? Well, if you believe that pile of horse poop, you obviously don’t know what frat life is like at this campus!

Late nights used to be standard procedure around this place. No, if the guys were asleep already, it didn’t have anything to do with “early to rise.” It was thanks to the mental training exercises they were going through in the basement, and it wasn’t the type of sleeping that rock-a-bye babies do tucked up in their beds in their ‘jammies.

Anyway--and I’m getting on with my story as fast as I can--I walked in, and the place was pretty much dead quiet. Nobody around that I could see. Until I looked in the television room just off the main room. At first I thought no one was there, since the television was off. But there, sitting on the couch, were Max and Chris. At first, I was, like, Holy fuck!--‘cause they weren’t brothers in my frat. They belonged to a whole different frat, a first-tier jock frat. Then I was, like, Holy fuck!--‘cause where you found Max and Chris, you found Halsey, and vice versa, and Halsey definitely meant trouble for yours truly.

Only ... Max and Chris, they were sitting there on the couch, and there was no Halsey to be seen. And the television was off, but they were watching it intently anyway, little smiles on their faces, as if it was the most interesting show they’d ever seen. Even though there was nothing but a dead gray screen.

So I said, “Hi, guys, what’s going on?” They were sitting there on the couch--but not close together or anything--in their identical denim shorts, wearing their matching tee-shirts with their frat letters emblazoned across the chests, and their little flip-flop sandals, only Max’s were black and Chris’ were blue--and I wanted to say, Guys, it’s a crime to dress alike unless you’re married. And I would have said it too, except they’d have beaten the living crap out of me. Hey, I was risking life and limb already just talking to them, especially after last time. So instead, I just said, “What’s going on?”

Their heads slowly swiveled my way. They each had these identical dopey grins on their faces, their half-open eyes all glassy. Max effused, “We’re watching a porno movie,” happy as a kid in mischief. Chris nodded. Max gushed, “It’s the hottest one we’ve ever seen.” Chris nodded again.

I was, like, Uh ... okay.

I may not be the sharpest guy on campus, but I figured out the basics. I said, “A porno, huh?”

Max nodded and repeated, “It’s the hottest one we’ve ever seen,” and Chris nodded again too, before their smiling faces started turning slowly, as inevitable as gravity, back toward the blank television screen.

Well, all right. They looked completely out of it. Like I said, I’m really good at figuring out the obvious.

The door on the other side of the television room opened, the former storage room where the guys had been having their planning sessions. Shane stuck his head through the door. “Oh--hi, Kip,” He said to me. “I thought I heard someone out here. Why don’t you go on upstairs. I’ll come find you when we’re finished here.” I could see Jake behind him; Jake gave me that knowing grin and a wink.

I could also see, past them, a guy’s muscular bare leg and foot, from the knee down, as if the guy was sprawled in a chair off to one side of the door. Where was Halsey? Mystery solved.

Shane said, “Max, we’re ready for you. The Doc will see you now.”

Max and Chris. In their matching outfits, their matching stylish haircuts, and their matching sports-and-gym-honed bodies ... All this conformity--those boys were practically doing our job for us.

And Max got up and sleepwalked to the door and through it into the white light beyond, and Shane pulled the door shut.

So the point of this was, I knew something was up.

20.

The trouble with beginnings is fear. That’s why you stumble and make half-starts. That’s why you st-st-stutter at the beginnings of words. You never stutter at the end--there is no stutter-ing-ing-ing. You stutter at the beginning because that’s where the fear is. At the end, there is no more fear, only regret. Let’s begin again.

Jump to the club again, with Jake, just before the next set of Doc’s new recruits showed up to perform.

This is the new Jake. Don’t worry if you don’t like him anymore. He’s changed. You might have been thinking the bar was just a sideline for us, another training ground. But it was more than that. It was the real classroom. Here Jake and all of us are refining our experience, learning to turn everything we are, everything we do, into a tool to get what we want, preparing us for what will happen later, once we graduate and go out into the world to make Doc’s agenda happen. We were learning the fine art of seduction. Jake was learning faster than the rest of us, showing us the way. I can see it in him now because I remember the old Jake. I can see it in the way he moves through the club: snake-limbed, long-legged, athletic, driven, dangerous. Whatever he was before, he has become pure predator. Where most people have a heart, Jake has a huge, sucking black hole. And when you’re as sexy as Jake, most people are happy as shit to be sucked in.

This is the new me too. I had just finished my turn on the stage. I was figuring out I had an exhibitionistic streak, and being onstage was one hell of an ego stroke for me, so I didn’t mind the dancing or stripping one bit.

I think Doc just liked showing off the control he had over us--not that the customers ever figured it out. After I worked the crowd a little, thanking guys for their tips, collecting a few more bills, I made my way over to the table in the back where Doc held court. Jake sat to Doc’s right. Jake: Shirtless, in just sneakers and jeans, with the top button popped up and the halves of his fly open just enough to show an extra wedge of skin, no underwear. Knees spread. Slouched back. Arms cocked back around the back of his chair. He surveyed the crowd with that familiar look that seemed so casual, but focused, not missing anything, and that panther half-smile. Like a bored Greek god of seduction wandering among the mere mortals.

I wore just sneaks and jeans too. I pulled out the nice wad of tips I had collected in my armband and passed it over to Doc, then I sat in the empty chair on the other side of Jake. The back of it was chilly against the skin of my bare torso, but that didn’t disturb the peacefulness that filled my head. Instead, I felt it relax me even more, and I settled back against it.

Shane leaned in from behind me and had to holler over the mind-numbing thumpa-thumpa dance anthem: “You’re going to love the next set. It’s Doc’s latest recruits.”

So I was, like, Cool! Because I was going to see who else Doc had brought into our fold.

The song was ending, and the DJ’s voice barreled through the speakers over the fade-out with, “And now, some new meat for you, guys, fresh from a championship season at one of our fine local colleges! It’s their first time, so be gentle with them, okay? Ha ha! Let’s welcome them to our stage!”

And I thought, No fucking way!

Because the guys climbing up on stage, with their enthusiastic grins and their bare chests, are some of the other stars of this story. Along with two other guys from the football team whose names I didn’t know, left to right, we had Chris, Max, and--say it with me--Halsey.

And I thought, Damn!

By the time I picked my jaw up off the floor--hey, maybe I was very relaxed and focused, not I sure wasn’t dead--they were into the second song of their set. Shirts off, pants too, bumping and grinding enthusiastically to the beat, in their underwear and socks. They were getting pretty good tips from the customers, and their little elastic armbands were bulging with cash.

And I thought, Dang--Halsey and his friends can actually dance.

Even Chris and Max were moving around pretty well up there.

So I did what any of us would have done, what several of the other guys had done already: I pulled a dollar bill out of my pocket and went to the stage.

Halsey saw me and came dancing over, doing this little underwear shimmy move that made his package bang around in the pouch of his white boxer briefs. Funny, I had always figured Halsey for a jock strap guy, like that day in the showers.

He came over and grinned at me. I grinned back, a Welcome to the club grin. He gyrated a little at the edge of the stage, showing off his body to me, then knelt at the edge and thrust his shoulder and arm with the elastic band forward so that I could slide the tip under it.

“Hiya, Kip,” Halsey hollered happily at me over the thunderous music. “Thanks for the tip,” and he giggled at his little rhyme. He gave me a wink and that familiar half-smile, half-sneer expression, and he gave me that little hug we’re supposed to do to encourage the customers to tip more often. Only Halsey held on a little tighter, a little longer. And that half-sneer of his was tinged with a definite edge of lust. “You know,” he practically had to yell into my ear, “I’ve always thought you were cute.” Then he reached down and tweaked my bare nipple playfully. I groaned and felt my knees weaken as the pleasure of it ran through me. I put my hand on Halsey’s bare chest to steady myself, caressing his rock-solid pectoral.

“See you around, stud,” Halsey said, winking again, before pulling back and dancing over to the next customer waiting to tip him.

I was floored. Halsey had sure come a long way into Doc’s agenda in a very short time. Who would have thought? Hell, if I’d known Halsey would look so dang sexy with that slightly addled look in his eyes, I’d have introduced him to Doc myself!

I decided I was going to ask Doc if I could “borrow” Halsey for later that night. At first I was thinking about payback; but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like just wanting to spend time with a hot guy. It felt like the need to get off with a hot guy. And I’ve always thought Halsey was pretty damn hot. The thought of it made my dick harden in my jeans.

I could practically see him already, naked, on his back on my bed, legs held up as high as he could hold them, gasping, shooting his load all over his chest without touching himself as I fucked his ass hard. It seemed almost more like memory than imagination, and I wanted to cross that boundary again. We were playing for the same team now. Doc’s team.

With Doc’s permission, I’d go up to Halsey later and say, Focus on my voice.

I would instruct him, Just relax, yes, and follow my simple instructions.

I would reach out to him and touch that spot behind his ear, same as ours, and tell him, Sleep.

21.

We are all of us always telling the same stories, over and over. The only way to make them new, to make them our own, is to tell them in our own words. But the moment you realize that you will never tell your own story, that’s the moment your life truly begins.

Halsey rolled over on his stomach in my bed and propped himself up on his elbows. The sheet slid off his bare torso. “Hey, handsome,” he said. “You were fucking awesome last night.”

I’d been up for nearly an hour, sitting by the window, watching the sun rise and thinking. But when Halsey said that, I couldn’t help but grin. Who doesn’t like hearing they’re great in bed?

“So,” I said, leaning back and letting the sunlight slop over my naked chest and shoulder. “What about Jane? I thought you two used to be an item.”

“Yeah, well, what about her,” he purred with a shrug. “As I seem to recall, you used to have the hots for her too.”

Okay. He had me there. Things change. Got it.

He yawned and stretched. “You coming back to bed?”

I grinned. The night before, my plan had been simple: bring Halsey back here, fuck his brains out, repeat, then discard. But somewhere along the way, things changed. Halsey took everything I threw at him, every inch, every slam and thrust, and he loved it. Ate it up. Fucking egged me on and begged for more--the whole time grinning and smacking his lips like a bitch in heat. Maybe Jake was pure seduction, but Halsey was pure appetite. Insatiable. I like that in a man. What started out as a revenge fuck turned into the hottest sex of my life. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t mind having the guy around. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, once you got to know him.

I went back to the bed. Sat down. Halsey turned himself toward me, and the sheet slid further off him, revealing his naked hip and his eager erection. “I always thought you were cute,” he said, as his finger slid along my bare thigh and found the base of my wood. “I just couldn’t handle it--y’know?--liking guys and stuff. I guess I overcompensated until Doc helped me deal. Sorry.”

I said, “It’s okay,” and shrugged. What else could I say? After all, I’d already had my dick in his mouth or up his butt half the night.

Don’t mistake this for love, I kept telling myself, as Halsey rose to meet me and we kissed again. He kissed me with his eyes open. That’s what I remember most about that first morning together, the way he kissed me, watching me kiss him back. And the way he touched my cock too, gently, like it was the most precious piece of china he’d ever handled, rolling it in his hands, but strong too, like he knew exactly what to do with it, which he sure enough demonstrated. We must have cum together five times the night before, and here we were already starting the next round, with Halsey bending his face over my crotch, intent on his work. I decided I’d like to maybe keep him around a while--and not just because he sucked cock with more gusto than any man I’d ever met except Jake. Doc’s doing, probably, but I wasn’t blaming him and I sure wasn’t complaining.

If we can forgive what’s been done to us--if we can forgive what we’ve done to others--if we can leave all our stories behind, our being villains or victims--only then can we maybe rescue the world.

It would sure make a good-enough happy ending, wouldn’t it? Two young lovers walking out into the light of a bright new day. They could find help, defeat the bad guy, and save the group. The two of them could be victims and heroes.

Fuck that.

This isn’t a fairy tale, and there’s no bad guy, and there’s no happy ending, not yet anyway, since life goes on and Doc’s plans are still unfolding. I don’t have the big picture. But according to the cliché, it ain’t over ‘til it’s over.

Every life moves toward, then radiates from, a single moment in time. What matters here is not the end; it’s the process. I don’t know how it will end--can’t see that far. All I know is the here and now. What will you do today? How will you justify it? That mountain of dead animals and ancestors on which you stand? The effort and energy and momentum of their lives--how will it find you? I have my answer.

Can’t you see? You’re addicted to conflict. Alienation. Obstacles. I’m not like you. Thanks to Doc, I don’t have to brag about my pain anymore. This is my happy ending. I feel terrific.

But you don’t care about that. Let’s get back to the topic at hand. Chances are, you and I will never meet. But if you’re a guy enrolled at one of our many fine colleges, chances are you’ll meet someone. You see, Doc has plans. I may not know what they are completely but, trust me, he’s thought it all through. He’s ambitious. He knows he wants. Knows how to get it. He has plans. Plans for you.

So if you’re a cute boy on a college campus, Doc is coming for you. Especially if you’re a cute jock, or a frat brother with family connections, Doc is coming for you. A good-looking computer whiz or a sexy accounting wonder boy in the making? Doc is coming for you. And Shane and Nathan and Jake and I, even Halsey and the rest, our smiling faces will be right there behind him. I know, you’ll try to fight. A lot of guys do. But don’t worry--once we guide you past your initial resistance, you’ll love it too. They always do.

So if you think this is going to save you ...

If you think your quick wits are going to save you ...

If you think anything is going to save you ...

Well, you’ve been warned.