Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 It was near midnight when I heard a frantic knocking at my door.  The
name's Sy.  Sy-fy they call me.  You may have heard of me.  I'm the
preeminent star of the cruise ship stage hypnotist circuit.  I was born
with a preternatural gift that gave me the power to control minds through
hypnosis.  My intense glare reduces even the strongest willed individuals
to mere putty in my hands.

   Now dear reader, you'd assume I was some randy mind-raping pervert who
trolled the countryside for fresh victims to bend to my will.  And during
my turbulent adolescence this was more than true.  But no more.  I've gone
straight.  My mind-bending powers have been curtailed into entertaining
vacationing families and retired seniors.  I'm not exactly swimming in
green but I get steady work.  More than enough to pay for a nice box house
somewhere in the desolate wilds of suburbia.

   What made me give up the hypno hijinx, you ask?  Well, after the
thousandth time you mesmerize some hunk or jailbait off the street it gets
a little old.  They get all wet and messy, you get off, and we both go
about our merry ways.  You feel that little pang on conscience where you
missing heart should be.  Unbelievable but it's true.  And as intoxicating
as it being a hypno hustler can be at time, it can get a little lonely.  No
one you brainwash under you power can truly love you back.

   No, the love and lust they express to you is just the love of yourself
that you put into them.  In the end it's just your own gratification
staring back at you with dumb blank smiles and glazed over eyes.  No love.
In the end that's all I really wanted.  And with those incessant little
taps at my door, I found my salvation.

   "Please mister!  Open up!  He's gonna kill me if he finds me!"

   It was the cracking voice of a young boy, desperate and achingly
vulnerable at my doorstep.  I was deeply in a music-induced trance, and
these childish pleas broke me out of my stupor with all the force of a kick
in the chest.  Despite all of the societal taboos and better judgments
against it, I couldn't not open that door.  I slipped on a loose bathrobe,
turned on the house lights, and turned the doorknob open.

   I've seen a lot of sorry sights in my day, but this kid took the cake.
His bare chest was covered in bruises and cuts.  His lip was split.  His
nose was bloody.  And his pale blue eyes were red and watery with fresh
tears.  Even a cold heart like mine melted with care and compassion.  Every
cut and bruise wounded me too, his grief mirroring mine.  Without even a
thought I took him into my arms and comforted the shit out of him.

   He cried and blubbered as I carried him to the couch.  With a painful
whimper I set him down with his pretty little head on the armrest.  I
slushed and smoothed him with a gentle brush of his thick blond hair.  What
sick bastard would do this to such a pretty creature was beyond even me.

   "There there pretty boy, just relax," I cooed, rhythmically petting his
mussed up mop of hair.  "You're safe now."

   I took a good look at the mess I'd dragged in.  The kid had the
appearance of an athletic toned surfer kid with dirty blonde hair and some
ragged cut off jean shorts.  Must've just come off the bus from California.
Talk about culture shock.  The west coasts rumors of permissiveness had
only intensified after the Gay Freedom Militia took power.  Was the kid one
of their pint-sized shock troops in hiding?  What was he on the run from? I
decided to engage him and get the full story, starting with a name. 
"Trevor," he croaked weakly.

   Being the friendly guy I am, I took his weak hand and shook it firmly.
Put on my best insincere smile and went on from there.

   "Nice to meet you Trevor.  The name's Sy, like in `sci-fi' movies.  I
usually don't entertain strangers at this late an hour, but for you I'll
make an exception.  Now why don't you just start from the beginning and
tell me how you got roughed up tonight?"

   Trevor looked over at me tensely, holding back tears.  I gripped his
hand for comfort as he told me the sad sordid story that had brought him to
my doorstep.

   "I...I ran away from home Sy.  My stepfather's gonna kill me next time
and my mom won't even listen to me!"

   "Next time?" I asked.

   I could see the poor boy struggling for the words.  I had to resist the
urge just to hypnotize the explanation out of him, but I was afraid to
where that might lead...

   "He know what I've been doing at the arcades," Trevor choked.  "Suckin'
boys off."

   New tears were streaming down Trevor's cheeks.  I felt for the boy. 
Bigoted Neanderthals like his stepfather were a dying breed, but still
large enough to pose a threat to gay youths at large.  I didn't see
anything wrong with boys being boys.  Hell, I'd be a hypocrite if I said
otherwise.  But if I had the opportunity in the future I felt like
confronting Trevor's dear old dad and beating the ever-loving shit out of
him.

   Being abused and that feeling of powerlessness was a pain I still carry
to this day.  Once my power manifested itself I took revenge on the man who
molested me and my brothers, making him serve us on hand and foot as our
willing slave.  Trevor didn't have that ability.  He had to sit in a corner
cowering while this brute beat him to bloody pulp.  I had to bottle up my
anger deep down as to not scare the frightened boy even further.  I just
kept stroking that cute beat-up face of his and murmured encouraging words.

   "It's okay Trevor.  You're in my house.  You're safe.  I promise no
one's going to hurt you.  Just tell me the name of that hick son of a bitch
and you can be done."

   Trevor hesitated at me like the stranger I was to him and went on.

   "His name's Larry.  Larry Stanton," the boy said solemnly.

   I knelt down by the couch and got close to his grim looking face.  I
looked straight into his eyes, not breaking contact.  I wanted his total
trust in me.  I wanted him to see I was honest, that I was a good guy.  Not
like so many others who had hurt him.

   "You're a brave boy Trevor.  Brave not just for dealing with so much at
such a young age, but taking a chance on a complete stranger to help you
out of this mess.  I know you have no reason to trust me, but I promise I
won't let you down like everyone else.  K babe?"

   His face lit up for a second as he replied with a lower case `k' of his
own.

   I don't know where that babe crap came from.  It just felt like the
right thing to say.  Breathlessly I lifted him off the couch and took him
into my arms, carrying the sleepy babe into the bathroom to wash off.  He
looked completely drained of energy, and the tension that wracked his body
through this whole ordeal began to dissipate.  Now was the moment of truth.
I had to bathe the little brat.

   With consideration, I asked him if I could take his jeans off and plop
him in the tub.  He was groggy and half-asleep already, but I wanted his
consent.  Maybe to absolve me of any mixed feelings I felt taking in his
slim boyish body.

   "Ssssssure," he said sleepily.

   With his eyes closed, he let sleep overtake him.  I took Trevor into the
bedroom, laid him sprawled on top of my soft satin sheets, and unzipped his
jean shorts.  I gasped as I slipped them off of him, the stiff little boy
cock of his standing at full attention under his piss-stained briefs. 
There was nothing remotely erotic or stimulating about the ordeal he had
been through, so I knew his erection was an entirely innocent one.  Hell,
when I was his age (13 I had to assume) I was getting boners
near-constantly for no other real reason at all.

   I wish I could say the same for my own throbbing hard-on.  The kid was
driving me crazy.  I tenderly unhinged the dirty skid marked Hanes from his
legs and tossed it on the floor.  Trevor's uncut dick and dusting of pubes
was quiet a sight to behold.  I knew that if I began pumping it or taking
it into my wet cave of a mouth he'd be too tired to resist.  It was damn
tasty, and I knew it.  But still I withheld myself, sliding him into the
warm water of the tub to bathe him.

   Trevor moaned from the relaxing bubble bath I had prepared, a throaty
sleepy groan of pleasure.  I hoped the bath salts and warmth would sooth
his surely aching little body.  The sighing and look of contentment on his
face had the same effect on me.  It had been too long since I cared for
another living thing, and I missed the feeling.  My last real commitment
had ended on bad terms.

   I scrubbed the dirt and grim off of every inch of his, making his moan
unconsciously from the contact.  I washed his arms, shoulders, nips, and
even the fissure of his rounded spongy ass before I was done.  He gave no
sign of discomfort or resistance.  The sensations spurned his dick on
again, the uncut tip bobbing comically above the skin of the bath water.  I
couldn't help but smile and grow harder from the sight.  I was about to
jerk him off a little but stopped myself.  Somehow I rationalized that if I
kept his groin area off limits I wasn't a total pervert.  How foolish I
was.

   When the water grew cool I lifted his limp body out and rubbed him dry
with a silk towel.  I laid him on my bed buck naked, using the excuse that
I was washing his clothes for his present nude state if he asked.  But he
wasn't doing much of anything but sleeping.  I decided to call it a night
myself, getting under the covers with him but keeping a respectable space
in the bed to stop myself from any funny business.  I tranced myself by
repeating nonsense phrases like I always did, and slipped into a deep
restful sleep.  It had been one hell of a night, and a deep refreshing
sleep was the one thing that always settled my nerves.  What I awoke to
though would shake me to my very core.

   "mmmmph....hmmmmmmm"

   I heard a bunch of moaning and babbling in my early morning grogginess,
and the sensation around my crotch was near orgasmic.  It took me a few
scant seconds to realize that something was awry.  First thing I noticed
was that I was standing up in the middle of the living room.  The second
was Trevor with my dick in his hot little mouth deep throating it like
there was no tomorrow.  My eyes bulged at the sight.  And I nearly screamed
when I unloaded a gallon full of spunk into his eagerly awaiting mouth.

   "Ugh, massssster," Trevor said with cum dribbling down the sides of his
lips.

   His eyes were spiraling with the pretty colorful spirals of my
handiwork. Sickeningly, the boy slurped up my love juice like a glob of
spaghetti sauce on his smooth boyish face.  It took me a few moments to
process it and make sense of what the hell my own eyes were telling me. 
The boy kneeled at my feet in a sign of submission while all I could do was
pat his head in encouragement.  Needless to say, I was completely losing my
shit.  Only one conclusion to explain this whole sordid mess of bodily
fluids came to mind.

   The heavy trance I was in before Trevor came to my door, and the further
deep trance I had put myself under to sleep must have awakened the beast
inside me.  In that unconscious fugue state I was free of my inhibitions,
my self-hypnotized mind hypnotizing my own desires onto Trevor's.  I'd done
the one vile thing I had desperately tried to avoid with him.  And I didn't
even have the free will to choose it.  The innermost pervert of my
subconscious did all the dirty work for me.

   With a commanding voice, I ordered Trevor to stand up straight.  He did
so like a flash, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and his
rock hard boy stick pulsing with horniness.  It took a lot for me not to
just fuck his merry unknowing brains out right then and there.  I saw
traces of my seed all over his stomach and face, his hair matted down wet
with fresh cum.  I didn't even know I had so much in my nut sack to shoot
off.  And to make the horror worse, I saw little droplets of cream and
blood drip out of his ass.  I tore him a new one with my beastly mechanical
lovemaking, and he accepted it happily.  The mind reeled.  How was I to
explain all this when he came to?  Would he ask me about the rawness and
the soreness that he would surely feel around his loosened boy hole?  I
didn't have any answer to give him except 'I raped you in your sleep son.
Sorry.' Son?  I felt ashamed for even thinking of him like that in my
dreams.  I didn't deserve to be his protector.  I couldn't even protect the
poor trusting boy from myself.  In a panic I did what I had to do: damage
control.

   I gave Trevor another thorough bath, not savoring this one but being
very workmanlike and diligent to wash every trace of my passion off of him.
I dried his underwear and jeans and slipped it right back on him.  His
spiraling hypnotized eyes and constant dumb smile at least assured me that
he wasn't anywhere aware of what I was doing.  Obsessively I scrubbed the
cum stains out of my carpet, and vacuumed over the spots to make them
invisible to scrutinizing eyes.  In a cold sweat I put another bathrobe on
and turned on an old Disney movie that was playing on a UHF channel.  To my
horror it was The Jungle Book, more specifically the part when the pervy
old snake mesmerizes and coils up the unsuspecting man cub.  A little too
close to home?  It was enough to make me switch to a mind-numbing golf game
instead.

   For hours I waited until I heard even a stirring from the bedroom.  It
was tense.  Even though in my thoughts I knew the boy would be no more the
wiser, the guilt was consuming me.  What I had committed was technically
date rape.  Trevor was the saddest most inviting being I had ever seen, and
I betrayed him in the vilest of ways.  It made me think of the great love
of my life I head ruined in the same way.

   In my college days I'd fallen for this mousy bookworm boy named Allen.
That time in my life was another of my 'clean break' phases where I quit
hypnotizing people for sex cold turkey.  We actually did the old-fashioned
courtship routine, going on dates and making out to the old pretentious
euro art flicks he was crazy about.  It was not too soon that we were
fucking like rabbits, totally going at it with reckless abandon so much
that the whole college dorm knew what we were up to.  Allen and me were two
inseparable lovebirds.  I was in sync with that boy more than anyone in my
whole life.  We'd have nothing conversations for hours just to hear the
other's voices.  Walking hand in hand, gaily like little schoolgirls.  Real
cutesy-poo stuff.  Then I had a relapse.

   At the beginning of our relationship I came out to him about everything:
my powers, my past abuse, and my need to trust another person completely.
After a few months my clinginess and jealous nature had made Allen distant
from me.  Our relationship was strained.  The endlessly blathering boy
barely spoke a word to me after a while.  Things finally came to a head
when I found an opened condom wrapper in his jeans whole doing laundry.  I
lost it.

   The screaming and bile was explosive.  I laid into him with all of the
misplaced rage I felt against my stepfather, my teachers, the street
hustlers, and every other jerkass who'd hurt me.  He didn't deserve any of
it.  I reduced him to tears, Allen pitifully begging for my forgiveness.  I
knew it was over between us, and I wanted to do anything I could to stop
it. I did the unspeakable.

   I look straight into his eyes, concentrated with all of my mind and
began to emit my playful brain-dulling spirals.  His mouth drooped, his
eyes widened, and his body grew slack and weak from the light show.  After
a few minutes of induction and repetitious phrases to wear him down, I had
total control of his mind.  Angrily I commanded him to love me, to crave my
caresses, to dominate him totally in eternal submission.  I bore into his
head deeper than any fast hypno fuck.  This was something akin to a love
lobotomy.  I scraped him clean of any free will or fight against me.  And
he smiled and moaned like a whore in heat all through it.

   I used him like a glorified blow-up doll for days and nights and weeks
afterward.  His personal life crumbled around him.  He lost his job, his
friends, every other human contact.  I'd reprogrammed his mind like a
malignant virus, latching onto him and driving him to near-total mental
collapse with my hypnosis.  Once day while he has passionlessly sucked my
cock I had a moment of truth.  In all my live of using people I had never
been so cruel.  Allen was right to leave me.  I knew it deep down all
along. The mental bondage I had forced him into was my own cruel sadistic
way of depriving him of the happiness he deserved.  This went way farther
than petty revenge.  I had destroyed his very soul.

   The next morning I decided to pick up the pieces of my life and Allen's.
I spent weeks using my powers to undo the damage I had caused, my
hypnotherapy loosening the bonds of my influence over him.  Eventually the
spark of life and personality returned to my dear Allen, that beautiful
essence reawakening inside him.  I gave him a goodbye letter and got the
hell out of dodge.  Last thing I heard he checked himself into a mental
institution for exhaustion.  The guilt still weighs on me to this day.

   I heard Trevor yawn for the other room.  My heart raced.  The tinkle and
splash from his morning piss sent me on edge.  I dreaded the moment he
would walk into the living room and greet me in his expected cheerful
boyish way.  After the expected flush I heard soft footsteps come ever so
closer toward me.  I put on my best 'hey buddy' act and flipped the channel
to some glorified cartoon toy commercial.  It was now or ne--

   "Ahhhhhh," Trevor sighed with his arms outstretched.  "Good morning."

   "Hey there Trev," I said with a nervous smile.  "Up for a nice hearty
breakfast of champions?"

   "Sure Sy," the boy replied drowsily.

   Trevor took a seat next to me on the couch, lounging around as he came
back fully to the land of the living.  The way he rubbed his ass and winced
gave me pause.  I hoped to hell he wouldn't make the grim connection.

   "How are you feeling buddy?" I asked as casually as I could.

   Trevor rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and let out a big yawn.  Damn,
he looked cute.  A nice bath and a good night's sleep had done wonders. 
Without the smattering of bruises and cuts on his face and torso, he'd just
be any other good-natured all-American boy on the block.  Albeit one with a
hurricane tongue that rocked me like the titular 80s metal song.

   "A little sore all over, but I'm feeling a whole lot better than last
night.  Thanks Sy...for everything."

   Without even a thought I gave him a nice big bear hug and comforted the
boy, rubbing his back affectionately.  I think we both needed it at this
point.  I was just as mixed up as him at this point, maybe even more.

   "I'm glad to hear that Trev.  How about a nice big breakfast of
champions while you veg to the boob tube for a while?"

   Trevor smiled a big bright Colgate smile at me.  Felt good seeing that.

   "Sounds great," Trevor said.  "I'm starving."

   Quickly I made my way over to the kitchen to whip up some breakfast. 
Over the sizzling of the eggs I could hear Trevor chuckle at some
brain-dead anime-inspired glorified toy commercial.  (Not like the fine
quality kid shows that I grew up with like Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles,
but I digress...) His laughter was like music to me.  It put my mind off of
the troubling events of last night.  "Hey Trev, many waffles do ya want?" I
shouted to him.

   "As many as you can make up!"

   I was more than glad to see the kid in good spirits.  He seemed to have
no memory or apprehension to what we were up to last night.  And the hearty
cum chowder I filled him up with last night hadn't killed his appetite a
bit.  I swore to myself that this was a one-time thing, and isolated
incident best left forgotten.  But the temptation was always there,
beckoning to me.  Would I have the willpower to stop myself next time?  And
would he have the will to resist me?  I didn't know.  But regardless I
would always be there for him.  I might have taken his mind, but he had an
unshakeable grip on my heart.  And that had far more influence on me than
any silly mind trick.