The Hypnotized Hockey Player

I've known Brett Maki for years, ever since we were on the same hockey team in fifth grade back in Minnesota.  We were good friends and played on the same teams all throughout school.  It was tough sometimes because Brett was a better player and invariably was made team captain.  After high school Brett stayed in Minnesota to go to college but I went to school in upstate New York and then to Canada to play in one of the Canadian minor leagues.  Brett and I had lost touch throughout the years, but now, eight years later, here we were, playing on the same semi-pro team in Denver.  Brett's been with the team for a few years but I'm new to the league.  I wasn't sure what to expect from him, but from the minute I called him up I discovered things hadn't changed.  Our friendship picked up right where it left off and he even offered to let me move in with him until I found my own place and got settled in.

Brett has a great two-bedroom condo and offered me the spare room.  The day I moved in he answered the door wearing sweatpants and no shirt.  He had been moving some of his things out of my new room and was sweating.  I took in the sight of his broad, smooth chest and inhaled the aroma, smiling inwardly.  He had obviously kept in good shape.

Brett and I are about the same size.  Six feet tall and 195 pounds.  I've got blond hair and blue eyes while Brett has sandy brown hair and brown eyes.  He's the epitome of the Boy Next Door.  The All-American Jock.

"Hey Mark, come on in," he said, wiping his hand on his sweatpants before extending it.  "Hold on a sec, let me get my shirt." 

That was Brett, always modest.  Even in high school when he was big man on campus he never flaunted his body or anything.  I don't know why.  If I had that body I as hell would!

"Thanks," I said, hauling my suitcases inside.  "The rest of my stuff is in the truck."

"We can get that later," he said.  "Let me show you your room."  He slung his t-shirt over his shoulder, grabbed a suitcase and headed up the stairs.  I followed, admiring his ass as he walked up the stairs.  Even though he was wearing sweats I could still tell he had a nice ass.  The sweat pants were sagging just a bit and the waistband, along with about an inch of his underwear, was showing.  White briefs.  Hmmm... guess nothing changes.  Brett...  Still built like a god after all these years and still wearing white briefs. 

What Brett doesn't know is that during senior year, the weekend after we won the State Championship, I felt him up.  Jimmy Koski, one of the guys from the team, had planned a victory party.  No parents, no coaches, just the guys from the team.  Jimmy's cousin Frank, who had just graduated from college, was going to buy some booze and the party was going to be at his house.  Brett wasn't going to go, but I talked him into it.  At the party I told Frank that Brett didn't drink but he said that wasn't a problem and would fix him something.  He went into the kitchen and poured him a big glass of orange juice.  I saw him pour some vodka in it.  I knew Brett had never drank before and I thought it would be funny to get him all drunk.  Brett had no idea and must not have tasted anything because Frank kept re-filling his glass, making each successive drink stronger and stronger.  After four drinks Brett was hammered, staggering around and laughing.  Frank put his arm around his shoulder and gave him another drink.  I saw him load it up with a lot of vodka.  Brett downed it in just a few gulps and all of a sudden it looked like he couldn't stand up on his own.  Frank and I helped Brett up the stairs to Frank's room, telling him to lie down for a few minutes. 

I was going to sneak back in a few minutes later but got sidetracked and didn't make it back upstairs for almost half an hour.  When I did, I was shocked at what I saw!  Frank was sitting on the bed and had Brett propped up against him.  Brett's jeans were down around his ankles and Frank was running his hands over his inner thighs and rubbing at Brett's crotch through his white briefs, which were starting to bulge.  Brett looked totally out of it.  His eyes were half-closed and his head was lolling on Frank's shoulder.  I looked on silently as Frank took a small brown bottle from his nightstand, opened it, and put it to Brett's nose.  Brett's face scrunched up and I heard him moan.  Frank laid him flat on the bed, yanked his briefs down and started to suck his dick!

I was standing in the doorway, grabbing my dick, jealous as hell.  I'd been lusting after Brett all year and wanted to be the one feeling him up and sucking his cock.  I closed the door quietly and then knocked loudly, asking if any one was in the room.  I waited a few seconds while Frank shuffled around in the room.  I heard another door opening and closing and figured he'd gone through the bathroom to the adjoining room and out the other door.  I waited a few more seconds and then slowly opened the door.  Brett was lying on the bed, passed out, covered with a blanket.  I locked the door behind me and quickly closed and locked the door leading to the bathroom.  I slowly pulled the blanket back.  Brett's pants were still around his ankles and his Hanes briefs were still bulging.  I gently rubbed at his cock through his tight briefs.  I spread his legs slightly and slid my hand up his shirt to play with his nipples.  He seemed to catch his breath while I pulled and plucked at his nipples and crotch.  I looked around for the little brown bottle but Frank must've taken it with him. 

I was about to lower Brett's underwear when he started to come around.  I quickly pulled his pants up, fastened them, and helped him to his feet.  He leaned heavily against me and he was mumbling that he was feeling sick.  I helped him to the bathroom and waited while he threw up.  He asked me to take him home.  The next morning he had a killer hangover but no memory of being manhandled.

Now as I was putting my new room in order, I was thinking how hot it would be to do the same thing to Brett again.  I was getting hard just thinking about his hot body under those loose sweat pants.  It took a couple of weeks of brainstorming, but I finally came up with a plan to get Brett.

After a couple of weeks working out with the team and getting to know the guys better, I got a little more inside information on Brett.  For the most part he was a great captain and a natural leader, but at the same time he could be a real hard ass if he didn't think you were pulling your weight or if he thought you could do better.  His own self-confidence and perfectionism sometimes translated into cockiness or arrogance, and while he was respected, he wasn't always the most popular guy around.  But he was good-natured and had strong mid-Western values.  The other players had nicknamed him "Opie" because he didn't drink (except maybe a beer on a rare occasion), or smoke, and could always be found in church on Sunday mornings.

Brett's birthday was coming up and I figured it would be the perfect opportunity to get him drunk.  It would be easy, too, since he never drank more than two beers at a time.  I figured if I could get all the guys to press it on him he wouldn't be able to say no.  But I had more in mind than just getting him drunk and maybe getting into his pants.  When I was in college I had learned about hypnosis in a psychology class I was taking.  It piqued my interest and from there I read everything I could get my hands on regarding it.  I had put my roommate and a couple of my former teammates under, but always for fun.  Well, mostly.  But I had a more in mind for Brett.  Just the thought of having him under my control was making me hard.  Brett Maki... sitting in church on a Sunday morning with no idea that the night before he was being a boy toy for his new roommate.

Brett's birthday fell on opening day.  After the game, which we won, while we were in the locker room, I suggested we all go out and celebrate both the victory and Brett's birthday.  Once at the bar I put my plan into action.  I ordered a round of shots of Jack Daniels with beer chasers and told the waitress that it was Brett's birthday.  Brett was stuck.  I knew he hadn't planned on drinking, but since the drinks were in his honor he couldn't very well refuse.  It was a Saturday night and the place was packed.  A couple of guys in the bar recognized us and pretty soon other team members were ordering shots and rounds.  In a fifteen-minute period I saw Brett drink two shots of whiskey and two beers.  I was pacing myself.

It didn't take too long before I noticed a change in Brett.  Not being a drinker, the alcohol had already hit him and he was tipsy.  I ordered a stiff whiskey and coke and put it in his hand.

"Happy birthday, buddy," I said.  "Drink up."

He nudged my shoulder.  "I think I've had enough.  Plus tomorrow is Sunday.  Church."

I laughed and patted him on the shoulder.  "Come on, man, it's your birthday!"  A couple of the other players also encouraged him.  "Live a little.  Don't worry, I'll drive."

He shrugged his shoulders and took a drink.  He was just drunk enough that he couldn't tell how strong the drink was.  When he finished his drink he got up to use the restroom and knocked an empty dish from the table.  I watched as he bent over to pick it up, his khaki cargo pants clinging to his firm, round ass, clearing showing off his brief lines.   

As he half-staggered to the men's room I ordered another drink.  This one even stronger.  When he returned to the table I told him to finish his drink so we could leave.  He didn't remember he'd finished his last drink so he grabbed it and drained it.  Then we left. 

When we got back to the condo Brett could hardly walk.  I helped him up the stairs and into his bedroom.  I sat him on the bed and sat down next to him.  He was trashed.

"Brett," I said, putting my hand to the drunk stud's cheek and turning his head to face him.  "I want you to do something for me, okay."

"Sure, buddy," he slurred.  "Whattaya want me to do?"

"Well," I said, reaching for a votive candle on his nightstand and lighting it, "I want you to see how long you can look at this candle without blinking."

He chuckled drunkenly.  "What?  Are you trying to hypnotize me?"

"No..." I said.  "Just stare into the flame."

"Because, you know, hypnosis isn't for real.  It's all fake."  He was a little wobbly.  I put my arm around his waist to steady him.

"Oh, it's totally fake," I agreed, humoring him.  "But let's just try, okay?"

Brett thought about it for a second and shrugged his shoulders.  "Okay."  If he had any reservations, the alcohol had sufficiently dulled them.  He stared into the flame, his eyes open wide.

"That's good, Brett," I said.  "Now while you're doing that I want you to relax and breathe deeply.  But slowly.  That's right.  Deep slow breaths."

While I continued my induction, I slowed and lowered my voice down until it was a monotone.  Brett continued his slow, rhythmic breathing.  His eyes began to blink more often, staying closed for longer and longer intervals.

"The sound of my voice is very comforting to you.  It's soothing and relaxing.  It's okay if you close your eyes, Brett.  In fact, it feels really good.  You're so tired right now and so relaxed.  Why don't you just close your eyes and sleep."

Brett's eyes blinked a few more times and then closed.  I continued talking, telling him how relaxed he was and how tired he was feeling.  His head dipped down over his shoulders and his shoulders continued to rise and fall.  He was under.

"Can you hear me, Brett?"

"Yes."  His voice was a soft whisper.  It sounded hollow.

"Good.  That's great, buddy."  For the next twenty minutes I talked him through a series of basic exercises designed to deepen and strengthen his trance.  He was doing well.  I blew out the candle and put it back on the nightstand and looked over at him.  He was still sitting upright on the bed but his head was bowed and his eyes were closed.  His lips were parted slightly.  I never noticed how sexy his lips were before. 

"Brett, you want to listen to everything I say.  You want to obey everything I say.  Do you understand?"

He nodded.  "Yes, I understand.  I want to obey everything you say."

I smiled.  "Oh, that's very good, Brett.  Very good.  You will obey everything I say.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, I will obey everything you say."

Feeling that he was sufficiently compliant, I decided to make a suggestion.  "Brett, when you wake up every morning you won't have any reservations about walking around the house in your underwear.  In your briefs.  It'll seem natural to you and you wont feel any inhibitions or embarrassment about your body.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said softly, nodding his head slowly.

"Good.  Now I'm going to wake you up by snapping my fingers, Brett.  You won't remember anything about me hypnotizing you.  But any time you hear me say the words 'slap shot' you will return to a deep sleep like this one.  Only when I say those words.  Do you understand?"

"Yes," he mumbled.

"Now when you wake up you will feel drunk and tired and will need me to help you get undressed.  Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"But while I'm undressing you you'll become aroused.  Your body will become very sensitive to being touched.  Whenever I touch your body it'll arouse you.  You'll get a hard on and your nipples will get hard.  It'll feel very good and you'll like it, but you'll also believe that it is bad and wrong.  You'll feel guilty and embarrassed because you like it so much.  Do you understand?"

Brett looked confused but nodded.  "Yes."

"That's right," I continued.  "And when I'm finished undressing you, you'll want to touch me.  You'll reach over and rub my crotch.  Then you'll lean in and try to kiss me."

Brett's face twisted into a scowl but I said sternly, "Remember, Brett, you will obey everything I say.  Do you understand?"

Brett's face relaxed and he nodded.  "Yes, I understand." 

"Good.  And tomorrow morning when I ask you if you want a cup of coffee you'll remember what you did.  You'll be very embarrassed about it, but you will also be very excited, and your dick will get hard all over again.  And you'll be ashamed because you have a hard on."

I snapped his fingers and Brett opened his eyes.  He fell backward onto the bed.

"Hey, you okay buddy?" I asked.

"Unnnhhh... yeah.  I think I'm drunk."

I laughed.  "You're hammered, buddy."

He struggled to sit up and finally propped him self up on one elbow.  "Help me get undressed, will ya?"

"Sure," I said.  I pulled him back into a sitting position and unbuttoned his short-sleeved shirt.  I eased it off his broad shoulders and let my hands run over his biceps.  He let his head fall back.

"Mmmmm..."

I smiled and pulled his t-shirt from his jeans.  "Okay drunk boy.  Lift your arms for me." 

Brett raised his arms over his head and I lifted the t-shirt, letting his palms slide over his stomach, chest and nipples.  Brett moaned again, this time louder and longer.

I untied and removed his shoes and then his socks.  While I unbuckled his belt, I put a hand on his chest and thumbed his nipple.  It was hard and he moaned again. 

"Here, buddy, lie back down," I said softly, easing him back.  I unbuttoned the jeans and slowly unzipped them, pressing against the hard mound. 

Brett was wearing white Hanes briefs and they were filled out.  I took hold of the jeans and tugged.  "Uh, Brett," I said, patting his hip, "you gotta help me out here, pal.  Lift your ass."

Brett raised his hips off the bed and I very slowly lowered the jeans, letting my fingers trace down his butt and down his thighs and legs as I peeled the jeans off and dropped them on the floor.  Brett moaned again and when I looked up I saw that his face was red.  I sat down next to him and looked him up and down.  I couldn't believe it had worked.  I couldn't believe the handsome stud next to me, writhing and moaning in nothing but his tight white briefs, was hypnotized and under my control.  I was in heaven.  I knew the possibilities were endless now.  I helped him sit up again, running the back of my hand over the front of his bulging underwear while I did.  Brett quivered and I could feel the heat radiating off his big nuts.

"Whoah, you're not getting turned on by this, are you buddy?" I asked.

"Nnnoo," he stammered.  But he was still hard.  He sat up, looking embarrassed.  I put my arm around him. 

"Well, that should do it then.  Go ahead and get into bed," I said.  But I knew full well what was going to happen next.  I felt something on my leg and looked to see Brett's hand slowly move up my thigh and to my crotch.  He started to rub.

"Uhh... Brett... " I said, gently grabbing his hand and stopping him.  I was about to say something else when I suddenly felt his mouth on mine.  Instead of returning the kiss, though, I pulled back.  As much as I wanted it, I wanted Brett to be embarrassed as hell tomorrow morning.

"Not tonight, buddy," I joked.  "I have a headache.  And you need your sleep."  I pulled him the rest of the way on the bed and got him under the blankets.  "Go to sleep now, okay?"  I looked over and saw that he was asleep.

Early the next morning I was eating breakfast and reading the paper when I heard Brett come down the stairs.  I was a little surprised he was up this early, but it was Sunday and Brett never missed church.  He had obviously showered and shaved but, just as I had suggested, he was wearing only his underwear.  Damn, he looked awesome in his briefs.  Maybe I could talk him into being an underwear model... He closed the kitchen curtains, blocking out the sunlight. 

"You're looking a little worse for wear," I said, looking up from the paper.  "Why don't you go back to bed for a few hours?"

"Cant. Gotta go to church," he moaned as he slid heavily into the chair across from me.  "Uhnnn... my head is killing me."

"You shouldn't drink," I said, folding the paper.  "You were pretty lit last night."

"What?"

"You were drunk.  Hammered."

"Mmmm..." Brett sighed, rubbing his hands over his temples.  "How much did I drink?"

I looked at him in surprise.  "You don't remember?  Let's see.  You had a couple shots of whiskey, some beer, some whiskey and cokes.  You went to town!"

"I don't remember too much.  I've never drank that much in my life.  Last time I was drunk was in high school.  I don't even remember coming in last night."

"That's because you passed out in the car and I had to carry your drunk ass in," I lied.  "You don't remember anything?" 

He shook his head.  "No."

"So you got drunk.  Big deal.  Next time just don't drink so much," I said matter-of-factly.  I stood up.  "Do you want anything to eat?"

"No, thanks," he said.  "My head is pounding.  Would you grab me a couple of aspirin?"  He looked pathetic, his head resting in his hands.

"Sure, buddy.  You poor lightweight," I said.  I grabbed a bottle of aspirin from the cupboard over the sink and set it on the table.  I stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders and then said the magic words:  "How about a cup of coffee?"

Brett suddenly raised his head and frowned.  "Oh my gosh..."

"What?" I asked, returning to my chair and sitting down.

"Oh my gosh," he repeated.  "I... I um... uhhhh... Last night...."

I smiled, trying to look clueless.  "What about last night?"

"Did I do..." he started.

"Yeah?" I asked, baiting him.

"What...?"

I sucked in my breath.  "Well, you copped a feel."

"Oh, man..." Brett stammered, his head in his hands again.  "Oh man, I'm soooo sorry."

"Ah, you were drunk," I said, consoling.  "Don't worry about it.  Just don't make it a habit."  I cleared his dirty dishes from the table and got up to put them in the sink.  As I did I peeked down and saw that Brett's briefs were beginning to tent.  I couldn't take it any more.  I wanted to run his hands all over him!

"You know, Brett," I said.  "I have something better than aspirin."

"Yeah, what?" He looked up.

"A 'slap shot.'"  Brett's eyes glazed over immediately.

"Stand up."  Brett stood up next to his chair.  His white Hanes briefs were bulging.

I pushed his chair away from the table.  "Okay, now sit on my lap."  Brett sat down on my lap.  His skin felt electric against me.

"Okay, Brett.  You're very turned on right now, and the more I touch you the more aroused you're going to get.  I want you to moan and squirm, do you understand?"

The hypnotized stud slowly nodded his head.  "Yes."

I reached around to his crotch and cupped it.  He moaned and I could feel his dick twitching under his fingers.  "That's right, buddy.  Oh yeah, that's good."

I put his arm around his waist and let it roam up to his erect nipples.  I licked my thumb and forefinger and slowly twisted and tugged at Brett's nipples.

"Ooohhh... mmmmm.... uunnnhhhhh..." he moaned, throwing his head back onto my shoulder.

I reached down to his crotch and felt him through his underwear.  He was hard.  I grasped his hard shaft through his briefs and rubbed my thumb slowly over the head of his cock, causing the material of his briefs to chafe the sensitive prick tip.  I wanted this boy as worked up as possible.  Brett's body shuddered.  "Uhhhnnnnn!!!!'

He began to thrust his hips slowly, desperately trying to fuck my hand.  "That's it buddy," I whispered in his ear, breathing softly on his neck.  Brett moaned again and started to whimper softly.  He looked like he was about to shoot his load.  I had an idea.

"Oh yeah, you need to cum really bad right now.  You're so horny and so turned on.  You need to shoot your crud but you can't."  I looked at Brett's face.  His expression was priceless and I wish I had a camera with me.  He looked defeated. 

I continued.  "You will not cum.  You will only be able to cum when I give you permission, do you