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Featured Book The Chapman Stick hardcover Bob Culbertson
27 August 13 - Steve Hahn (Colorado), to Stick Enterprises WOW!!! You've made an amazing difference in the feel, look, intonation and sound of "poly" 2512. Simply put, it's a brand new instrument. Emmett and Grace, this axe is so clear in all registers. I'm astounded by the inner voicings that are now audible in my originals and arrangements. Many thanks to everybody at Stick who touched it during this refurbishment.
8 July 11 - Johnny McGee (Ireland), to Cambria at Stick Enterprises It looks and feels like a brand new instrument, and it's hard to believe that it's maybe 30 years old (I was trying to figure out the year by the serial number #1111 and the ironwood material). I was also pleasantly surprised by how easy it is to play. I've played 6-string basses for many years but the sight of 10 strings in front of me was a little daunting for the first few days! However, I'm actually starting to get reasonably comfortable on it already. Many, many thanks again for all of your help. It was an absolute pleasure doing business with you. Please pass on my thanks to Emmett and the rest of the team.
19 June 09 - Jim Bianco (Arizona, USA), to Stick Enterprises Hello again. The reworked Stick sounds and plays perfectly. The new Stickup is fantastic. I also noticed the "rebranded" 776 on top. Nice touch. Question: were new tuners added? They look shinier. I was showing the instrument off at work, and everyone had great things to say. Great work!!!! You made me a happy man.
19 May 09 - Matt Rogers (Texas, USA), to Stickist.com You're going to love it, Jim. What gets me is that all the extra work that Emmett does would probably cost a fortune in the hands of a luthier or a guitar tech. Emmett does all these little things that add up to make a huge difference in the way your instrument feels and sounds. For Emmett, this is simply his way of bringing his older instruments "up to code", if you will. I call that integrity and pride in your work.
21 November 05 - Jeff Pearce (IN), to StickWire: About a week ago, I got my Stick back from a "check-up" at Stick Enterprises. I sent it back for the "3 year 30,000 mile tune-up" (no- I tune it a little more frequently than that... :)) and I am VERY HAPPY with their "tweaking" of all the Stick components. I have a fairly new Stick, built in 2002, so you THINK there wouldn't be a lot that needed to be done, but I gotta say- I am AMAZED at how "smooth" everything now is. The only thing I'm impressed with more than that is just how quickly Emmett and crew took care of my Stick- I don't think it was in their shop much longer than 100 hours! Emmett, Yuta, Grace, and Chiz- they are one incredibly efficient "operating system" - no crashes, no blue screens of death - and I thank them for their artistry/wizardry!
29 July 05 - Brian Baggett (TX), to Stickwire: Thanks to Emmett & SE for the great repair/setup that my Stick so desperately needed. It's been said here dozens of times before...if your Stick hasn't been properly set up in a few years (me...9) then it's WELL WORTH the shipping. Plus the install I requested for the Flaps nut piece. I dig it.
18 March 05 - Brett Bottomley (CT), to Stickwire: I just got my Stick back from SE with a professional setup for the first time (both my Sticks were purchased used). WOW!!! what a difference. I didn't know how much better my instrument could play. My backup Stick is now my favorite. I can't wait to send in my other Stick sent for a setup. I have a question, how often does everyone else send in their Sticks, or do you set it up yourselves? I don't think that I could have done what Emmett and the gang did. My shedua was beyond truss rod adjustments, and I'm not taking chisel or sand paper to either of my babies.
3 February 04 - Paul Frields (VA), to Stickwire: I have to second Steve here; sending your Stick to S.E. for a refurb is the best investment you can make. Plus it will probably elevate the resale value if you decide to sell the instrument later. When I sent one of my Sticks back to S.E. for a refit, I almost didn't recognize it under my fingers, it felt so wonderful. It was well worth the extra money to have a "good as new" instrument. Ever since then, it has been a joy to play.
28 March 03 - Tom Cox (CA), to Stick Enterprises: I just got my refurbished Stick #1236 from you guys today. I cannot believe the feel, looks, sound, etc. It really is like a brand new instrument. So many thoughtful little touches? a new shoulder strap, new bridge screws, new damping pad, polished and cleaned fretboard? make receiving this baby an even MORE satisfying experience than I expected. I have said this before, but I mean it now more than ever: the customer service at Stick Enterprises is unparalleled in the rarified, know-it-all world of custom instruments. Both the personal contact: warm, helpful, always available: AND the workmanship: precise, expert, inexpensive: are unheard of in their quality. Thanks so much for fixing up this old Stick.
23 December 02 - Olivier Vuille (Switzerland), to Stickwire: Since I had received a brand new graphite Stick (10 strings) a couple of months ago, I wanted to have my 'old faithful' ironwood Stick #566 refurbished by its Maker (who else?). Now we're talking of an ironwood Stick made in 1979. Yuta showed me her archives which were very impressive indeed: pre-computer era files, all nicely handwritten, Stick #566 on a page next to one with lots of 'Levin' written on it. Quit a bit of history! A couple of days later I gave Yuta a call and we discussed the refurbishing. We settled on a new 'Stickup', the installation of a truss-rod (so that I could use medium gauge strings), new saddle screws at the nut and bridge, beveling on both sides of the touchboard, new shoulder strap, new damper, complete fret job (these are the old guitar frets), cleaning, setting up, and so on. So we opened the case and here's Stick #566, unharmed in all its refurbished glory. The job Emmett has done is absolutely wonderful. I understood why Yuta told me on the phone last week that the instrument was so beautiful now they almost didn't want to let it go away. Imagine an ironwood Stick built in 1979 looking like a new instrument! The setup is ideal. Extremely low action. The new 'Stickup' has an incredibly pure and crystalline sound. Of course the guitar frets are not as easy to play as the Rails - they don't forgive the slightest misplacement - but what a fantastic instrument! I'm really glad I brought this vintage beauty to Emmett. The level of workmanship and dedication at SE is very unusual and precious. Many thanks for this great work of art and as we say in French "Chest un chef d'oeuvre!"
8 July 02 - Timmy Kochel (PA), to Stick Enterprises: It's perfectly repaired. And I received it exactly 8 days after sending it. And the 4th of July holiday was inside that 8 day stretch! Thank you so much, Emmett. Your customer support never ceases to amaze me.
1 July 02 - Jim Whisenant (MA), to Stickwire: For me, try almost ten years since any repair at all (and at that time, a locally-done fret repair and fingerboard planning), and almost twenty years since the instrument had seen SE (and through the years, they still seemed to remember who I was -- hats off to that alone). So what am I writing about? Trying to get in the record books for the longest sustained period of instrument neglect? Nope. Just wanted to say that I sent my Stick to SE last year, for a major overhaul, and not only was the work beautifully done, it has stood up to daily play. The craftsmanship is excellent, and it lasts.
1 July 02 - Steve Burnett (NC), to Stickwire: I purchased my Stick used, from a local player who'd purchased it with standard gauge strings, and switched the instrument to heavy gauge strings himself. I sent it to Stick Enterprises after a few years for refurbishing, and found out about the gauge change while I was waiting for it to come back :). When it came back, it played better than ever, looked cosmetically new, and played as easily as new Sticks I've handled. The refurbishing/tune-up/cleanup was well worth the money for me (also gave me an excuse to retrofit my Stick with a GK-2A MIDI pickup I'd always wanted). Strongly recommended.
1 July 02 - Paul Frields (VA), to Stickwire: I just got my 10-string back today, fresh from a trip across The Stick Enterprises workbench. I'm dropping a line just to let everyone know what an incredible job Emmett and the gang did on this instrument. With a fresh set of SE strings, fret redressing, and small parts replacement where needed, #777 indeed plays like a brand new instrument. Even with light gauge strings (which I personally prefer for the expression of vibrato), the bass notes are clear, punchy and full-bodied, and the higher notes are brilliant and satisfying while retaining fundamentals. I simply cannot express how overwhelmed I am by the difference! (But let me try anyway...) :-) With a properly setup instrument I can now play "better" than before because I'm not working as hard just to generate an even tone and volume across strings. If anyone out there has been weighing the option of doing this, PLEASE do yourself a favor and send it in ASAP. Instead of looking for a new piece of swag gear to generate "that sound," if you haven't sent your used instrument in for refit/setup in some time -- i.e. a number of years, or you don't know for sure if it's *ever* been back -- send your instrument into SE. The first thing I did was to plug it in without any gear between The Stick and the amp, and it sounds better than it ever did before. On top of everything else, I got it back long before I expected given their heavy workload of setting up and delivering new instruments. I can see they are working hard to strike a balance between new buyers and current owners, for which I am grateful. Thanks everyone at Stick Enterprises! I'm off to woodshed now... ;-)
13 April 01 - Jim Whisenant (MA), to Stick Enterprises: I want to thank you so much for restoring my Stick to a playing and sounding condition that it probably hasn't seen for several years. Yuta, you're right, looking at the beautiful craftsmanship is one thing (and it is truly outstanding work), but the proof is in the playing. Well, in this case, all I can say is "Wow!"
15 December 00 - Kevin Genus (VA), to Stickwire: I sent my Stick to SE to finally have the MIDI pickup installed, some fret work done, and the dual nut modification. During the extremely short period of time my instrument was gone, I used an old 10 string to work with ... felt like I was cheating on my girlfriend. The real shock was when I got my Stick back. The work was outstanding to say the least ... and the touch was so much more refined. I though it was in pretty good shape when it left, but now even less effort is required to produce the same sounds. This is probably the last thing Emmett wants to read, but if any of you can take the time to send the instrument off and have it setup properly again, it's like getting a whole new instrument again.
1 December 00 - Christopher Lavender (FL), to Stickwire: I got my Stick back today from Stick Enterprises. I had it overhauled, set up and had a dual nut installed. First of all let me say that the workmanship is absolutely top notch. For a little over $300 (I had a bunch of extra stuff done and I had it shipped Express) I basically have a brand new instrument. Along with the regular set up stuff that I needed done, I had a crack near the truss nut that Emmett fixed beautifully. I also needed a ton of small parts replaced like saddle screws and the strap post. In addition they did some kind of refinishing of the wood and it looks absolutely beautiful. Well worth every penny I paid.
8 July 99 - Dan Schmidt (CA), to Stick Enterprises: Once again thank you so much for the work done on the Stick. I tried it out when I got home, and man o man what a difference! It's so smooth and natural feeling, it's a joy to touch. Especially, the bass strings. They were always a workout to pound on. Even my wife was pleased with the outcome, and that was a challenge. She was impressed with the difference in the sound quality. (She likes the sound of the Stick better than the guitar in general, but especially liked the improvements to the sound quality).
10 May 97 - Michael Jeter (NY), to Stick Enterprises: Just wanted to say how much I enjoy my re-tuned Stick. Emmett set my melody for GDAEAD. I decided to be a hard head and move the high A to a B, thus my melody is a Crafty relationship built on the G above the standard bass C. Thanks again Emmett and Yuta. The quality and speed with which the repairs were done is incredible.
7 March 97 - Russell Keating (IL), to Stickwire: I would recommend that you send your instrument to Stick Enterprises and have it set up correctly. It is worth it. Although I do all of my setup (truss rod, bridge/nut screws, pickups), I have had to send a Stick in to Emmett when it needed a bit more attention than I could give it. The results were well worth the shipping cost and the short time without the instrument. If Emmett sets it up for you, you can sleep well at night knowing that you have a Stick that plays the way it was intended to.
25 February 97 - Attila Baraczka (Canada), to Stickwire: I just got my Stick back today from being serviced at Stick Enterprises, and I am almost speechless. When Yuta and Emmett said I wouldn't recognize my instrument upon its return, they were absolutely right. Can't surf - must go play now!
21 February 97 - Casey Arrillaga (CA), to Stickwire: I must credit a lot of the great sound to the fact that as soon as I bought my Grand (used) I took it to Emmett who set up the action, intonation and did a little fret work all of which gave me one of the best sounding Sticks I've ever played.


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Menlo Park, Calif.) Pacific Biosciences of California (PacBio), a Menlo Park-based developer of tools for biological research, on Friday named Michael Hunkapiller, as its president and CEO. He succeeds Hugh Martin, who will remain on the company's board of directors. Hunkapiller previously served as the president and general manager of Applied Biosystems and a general partner with Alloy Ventures, and in October was named chairman of PacBio's board of directors.
http://www.pacificbiosciences.com/sites/default/files/press_release_assets/CEO_Appointment_Hunkapiller.pdf (PDF)

subset: commoncrawl


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How to take charge of your premature greying of hair
Take Control Of Your Life: The Complete Guide to Managing Work and Family
The Knowledge as well as Power System Use a Power of Your Imagination to Acquire Knowledge as well as Power.pdf
A 3 step guideline to take care of your pearly whites
Bet365 Financial Sniper To win 90 of Your Bets upon Bet365 Financials.pdf
How to Take Care of your iPhone 5
How To Take Care Of A Kitten
How to Take Care of Your Dental Fillings?
Trying To Take Care of Your Own Car? It Might Cost Much More Than You Might Think
How to take care of baby and enjoy the wonderful moments of parenthood
We're in a bad mood epidemic, but Julia Ross's plan provides a natural cure. Drawing on thirty years of experience, she presents breakthrough solutions to overcoming depression, anxiety, irritability, stress, and other negative emotional states that are diminishing the quality of our lives. Her comprehensive program is based on the use of four mood-building amino acids and other surprisingly potent nutrient supplements, plus a diet rich in good-mood foods such as protein, healthy fat, and certain key vegetables. Including an individualized mood-type questionnaire, The Mood Cure has all the tools to help
you get started today and feel better tomorrow.
In March of 2008 I had to let my insurance go. I am self employed and the cost had skyrocketed. As I knew the end was coming I tried to prepare by reading about and using holistic treatments as opposed to the five prescriptions that I was going to have to do without. I was diagnosed as severely clinically depressed in the late '90s. The very first prescription that I was ever given was one for 60mg., yes 60mg, of Prozac. The doctor(s) wanted to hospitalize me but I refused, opting instead to see the psychiatrist every other day....the first week was every day. I managed to get through this first year without killing myself and it is all just a blur. There were side effects to the drug that they "treated" with more drugs. I gained weight, lost weight, slept for 8 months, went through my entire life savings, etc., etc., you get the picture. I was a total mess. As time progressed I noticed that the drugs stopped working as effectively as they did in the beginning so I'd get switched... read more
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A groundbreaking program for managing--and even reversing the symptoms of--both Type 1 and Type 2 Diabetes by tackling the root cause: insulin resistance. Though not all physicians are aware ...
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More Health, Less Care: How to Take Charge of Your Medical Care and Write Your Own Personal Prescription for Lifelong Health
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Clarksville TN Online is the voice of the people of Clarksville Tennessee.We take you beyond the ordinary in local news and gives the Extras: diverse political coverage including individual opinion pieces and editorial work, activism, local and regional arts and theater, municipal and county news and events, and more. [Read more]
To submit Clarksville Tennessee area news, story leads, tips, or press releases send us an email
With his wife Donita and daughter Heather at his side, Mayor Johnny Piper announced today that he will not seek re-election for a third term as Mayor.
"After much prayer and consultation with my family and close friends, I have decided not to seek re-election as Mayor of Clarksville," said Mayor Piper.
Mayor Piper announces he will not be running for re-election as his wife Donita and daughter Heather look on
«Read the rest of this article»


text: Hybrid images change interpretation as a function of viewing distance. Hybrids combine the low-spatial frequencies of one picture with the high spatial frequencies of another picture producing an image with an interpretation that changes with viewing distance. In this figure, the people may appear sad, up close, but step back a few meters and look at the expressions again. |


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SMART Cars, Prius and fun
I've seen so many great license plates on hybrids, here are a few:
On a Smart Car – MBZ LITE
On a Prius CO2 LMTD
then there are others
- breathe
- air4us
- lessgas
What have you seen?
I love the creativity. There should be a hybrid parade on earth day, like the passing of the torch we could pass the gas can (empty of course) from one hybrid to another up and down the state of California.


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{Like the bird paper? Purchase the notebook HERE.}
My posts lately have focused on super-practical things like "how to set up a study station for your kiddo" to "how to put together an entertaining kit" to "four different ways to wear a mid-length denim skirt". All of these posts have been well-received by all of you and for that, I am grateful. These kinds of posts are inspirational, at least they are to me when I read them on other blogs. They motivate me to do more with the time that I've been given.
But, today, I just want to encourage you.
It is so easy as a blogger and a blog reader to become frustrated with the hundred-and-one things that I'm not doing, but wish I were doing... tending a garden, cooking from scratch, devoting more time to my blog, devoting more time to housework, devoting more time to my husband and son... and the list goes on. There are countless things vying for my attention at any given moment, but I can't tend to them all.
This is when I often entertain thoughts of failure.
I'm not doing enough.
I'm not good enough.
I'm not...enough.
But, you know what? I may not be doing all that I could/should do, but I am enough! And, my dear friends, you are enough, too. Just because we don't do all of the things that we think the blogger next door {next URL?} is doing, doesn't mean that we've failed in any way.
It may mean that we need to reevaluate our priorities. We may need to be honest with ourselves: are we becoming a sluggard? a busybody? We may need to scrap some things off our metaphorical plate, in order to make room for those things that we truly would like to do.
It's true we all have things in our lives that we need to work on. I know I do. None of us are perfect. We all sin. We all give into procrastination, anger, and other attitudes that do not exemplify Christ.
But, today, let's not dwell on all of the things that we're not "good at"... all the ways which we feel like we're not enough. Let's chose to praise the Lord for what we do have; for what we are good at. Let's rest in the fact that, though we're not perfect, we serve a God who is and who can meet us where we are. Who can make us into something worthy of Him, but who will never condemn us {if we belong to Him} when we do stumble. And Who is always enough!


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Raptors' Anderson on crutches; in walking boot
The Toronto Raptors, already without guard Kyle Lowry due to an ankle injury, may be without Alan Anderson after the guard/forward was seen today on crutches and in a walking boot, according to Ryan Wolstat.
Anderson left the game Saturday against the Philadelphia 76ers with what the team was calling a sprained left foot.
This season, the Raptors are off to a 1-5 start, 13th in the Eastern Conference.


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Results 6 to 8 of 8
April 12th, 2013 05:03 PM #6
i've also only just noticed that we are infact behind lol.. were as the clocks have gone forward the once on nb have stayed the same..
Danielle Grace -engaged to my best friend!
My lil dude Bailey (5), My lil lady Liberty (3) & Step mum to angel Calium (11)
Girls: Kairi Tahlia Peyton Bonnie, Esmerée, Lilith Boys: Rylan, Phoenix Xander Levi Dylan Logan Spencer Harley.
Possible Combo's: Kairi Peyton Alana...Tahlia Bonnie Grace...Harley Spencer Rylan...Phoenix Xander Levi...
April 12th, 2013 05:16 PM #8
My goodness, how did you even find that forum?
XY: Antoine Raphael (3.1.2012)
XX: Cassia Viviane Noor (11.30.2013)
April 12th, 2013 07:01 PM #10Senior Member
- Join Date
- Oct 2008
- Posts
- 1,186


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The Mystery of the Mad Mesmerist 3 (hypno celeb)
by hypnojon32
Disclaimer: This story contains male/male sex, s/m role-play, and hypnofetishism. If you are not of legal age, (eg.18+) or offended by such subjects, then stop reading, you pervert! Perhaps you are living in a backwater community that frowns on such explicit materials. In such a case, stop reading, FEEL MY HUG, and know that I feel genuinely sorry for you. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
"Doomed?!" Tony repeated somewhat fearfully, "You don't mean he'll-"
"Kill them?" Mesmero finished, "No, he won't kill them, but for all that it's worth they'd be better off dead!"
"What do you mean?" Chet gasped.
"My brother may be completely evil and insane but he's as brilliant as I am, maybe more in his field. I can only wonder what improvements he's made to his hypnotic inductions and suggestions. He'll hypnotize and brainwash your friends into his service and then make them forget they even know him. But mark my words, your friends' lives as free men and crime fighters are over!"
"NO!" shouted Tony.
"Oh yes," replied Mesmero, "Unless we get to them in time, manage to deconstruct whatever damage my twin has caused, help them recover their lost time, they'll remain his slaves, cause untold troubles and when my twin has sucked them dry and deemed them expendable, they will kill themselves on his command!"
"But why?" asked Cassie who had come up to where they were talking, "Why would he do these terrible things?"
"It's what he does. His reason for being. His M.O. As for why, no-one knows. He's never remained in the hospital long enough for anyone to find out."
Tony, Chet, and Cassie left the despondent hypnotist and went over to where Iola was questioning a guest with some routine questions about her victimization.
Iola explained that she had asked the C.O. of the police squad if she could be of any assistance. He told her she would have to stay off the stage until they had completed their investigation but that she could go around asking the guests some routine, pre approved questions so they could go home, and that the three of them could join in as well.
"Great idea!" Tony exclaimed, "At least this'll give us something to do until we can start our own investigation."
The four of them split up and took statements from the rest of the audience. It was slow, boring work. Slowly, one by one, two by two, the rest of the crowd trickled out of the theatre. This took about another 2 hrs. By this time, Frank and Joe had been missing for about 4 hours.
Finally when everyone else had gone home and the police had gone over the stage with a fine tooth comb, the C.O., Sergeant Stone called them over.
"Thanks for doing the grunt work, kids," he said.
"No problem," Tony said, glossing over the blatant ageism. At 18 years and over, all of them except Joe where legally no longer "kids". And what Joe lacked in time, he made up for in experience. Why, the amount of cases he had solved in the last year was simply mind boggling.
"So Sarge," Tony continued, "Any leads?"
"Well there were no hairs or viable prints," Sgt. Stone said, "But we found out how the kidnapping was done. Take a look at this."
He then showed the four chums the concealed button, using it to open the well hidden trapdoor.
"Then that's it!" Tony exclaimed, peering into the dark mouth, "We've got to go down there! It's the only way we'll be able to pick up mad Mesmero's trail and save Frank and Joe!"
As if on cue, an unremarkable and unnoticed side door opened.
"Did someone mention our names?" asked Frank and Joe as they stepped through and entered the theatre.
* * *
Deep in his sub-sub basement lair, Mesmero looked at his sleeping charges, one spread-eagled and standing against the wall, with a cleave gag in, his dark hair feathering his brow, his shirt partly unbuttoned, and the other strapped to his leather recliner, his dick hard, outlined against his jeans, and his pecs and nipples straining against his white tee shirt that looked like it had been poured over him. Rubbing his hands in anticipation, Mesmero strode to a central location between them.
All right! He thought, Let the games begin!
In a loud, clear voice, he said, "Hardy boys, awake!"
The two brothers stirred, groaned. Struggled. Screamed. Whimpered.
"Help! Let me go! What's going on?" Mesmero mouthed along with Joe's predictable phrases. After all, he'd heard them countless times before.
"You and your brother are about to be initiated, Mesmero answered, coming up to sit beside Joe, "Into a most holy and ancient order. Into a most worthy service. You will give your minds and bodies wholeheartedly over into it and submit as slaves. My slaves! You Joe, will go first and your brother, chained to the wall over there, will watch."
Joe struggled and pulled and strained against his straps, all to no avail. "You monster! We'll never be your slaves! Never!"
"I never tire of hearing those words. And then proving them wrong. BWA HA HA HA HA!!!!"
The mesmerist's maniacal laugh reverberated through the tiny room.
Abruptly he stopped. "Watch closely Frank, You are about to see your brother in his last moments as a free man."
Frank thrashed and grunted loudly in his gag but there was little else he could do.
"Hardy Hypno'ed," Mesmero said.
Joe thrashed, and shook his head as he could feel the sticky fog of trance descending upon him again. "NO!!!" he cried, "I won't let you get me again. I won't let that work anymore!"
"Ohhh!!! Built up some resistance have you?" Mesmero said in mock distress, "Don't trust me anymore, do you? Well, what have I done to make you trust me, hmmm? You're quite right to want to resist me now. So, we'll just have to---lower--that--resistance."
Joe's eyes widened as the hypnotist leaned in closer, smiling malevolently.
* * *
"Frank! Joe! You're all right! You're back!"
Everyone raced toward them. The two male chums greeted them warmly and shook hands while the girlfriends threw themselves into their arms and wiggled their bottoms in girlish glee.
"Are these the missing individuals?" asked Sgt. Stone.
"Well, yes they are," answered Tony, "But-"
"Where on earth have you been all this time?" asked the Sarge gruffly.
"Down in the basement, I guess. I was lost. I got separated from the magician," said Joe, "Frank found me. It was dark."
"Yes, it was dark," Frank said, "I fell in after them. It's quite a maze down there. I searched for Joe. I'm sorry if we caused any trouble."
"But that's not what happened," Tony cried, "You were grabbed, Frank. We saw-"
"I fell in," Frank interrupted.
"But the gas! We were all gassed!" Tony said desperately, sure there was something wrong.
"Come on, boys! Look like we're all finished here! Case closed!" The police all turned and headed for the door.
"But 4 hours! They were gone 4 hours! What about that!?" Even Tony could hear how irrational he sounded, but he couldn't help it. And in the end, it really didn't matter.
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! The collective sound of the policemen's boots heading for the door drowned out Tony's last statement. The doors slammed and they were gone.
Tony, Chet, Cassie, Iola, the Hardy boys and Mesmero were left alone in the now large and empty theatre.
"Well, we're not leaving!" Tony said stubbornly, "I know something's wrong here! We were gassed! The whole lot of us! You guys couldn't have been lost for 4 hours!"
"Four hours!?" chorused the brothers in unison. "Did it seem that long to you, Joe?"
"It sure didn't, Frank," Joe said.
"OK, Tony," Frank said, "maybe you're right. Maybe something did happen to us. Where should we start looking?"
"Same place as I was thinking of just before you got here," Tony said, "We go down the trapdoor and re-trace your steps."
* * *
Mesmero leaned over Joe and using his thumbs and forefingers began to flick the helpless boy's nipples through his shirt.
Joe groaned.
"Yes, I remember now much you enjoyed this during your induction on stage. How hard this made you. As you focused... and relaxed... focused... .and relaxed.
Flick, flick, flick.
Pulling you deeper... and deeper, lowering your resistance... as it's lowering now... you can't stop it, don't want to stop it. Don't want to stop the pleasure as it pulls you down... down... down..."
Joe couldn't help it. Mesmero's relentless, rhythmic assault on his nipples was the most erotic thing he had ever felt. Light but insistent, he could not resist their charms and he moaned as his violent struggles turned into ineffectual squirms. To make it worse, Joe was finding it strangely pleasurable being restrained as he was played with and unable to stop it. And soon there was nothing but Mesmero's voice and the matching pleasures on his chest.
"Down... down... down... .losing resistance, losing the fight. Hardy Hypno'ed."
This time Joe went under. His eyes slammed closed and his struggles stopped.
"MMMMPPPHHHH!!!" Frank shouted through his gag which Mesmero interpreted as, NO! He ignored him.
"Now Joe, you are already in a deep sleep and your will belongs to me doesn't it boy?" Mesmero asked.
"Yes Master."
That's good, very good. But now as you breathe in a deep breath and fall even deeper asleep I want you to picture a pole in your mind, like a fire pole. On the pole is a number scale from 0 to 10. Where on that scale is your willpower, Joe?"
"Zero, master."
Good, Joe. But look down. The pole extends down, down, down into the dark, past zero. Into negative numbers. I want you to slide down the pole a little farther to -5."
Joe sighed contentedly and settled more comfortably in the chair.
"Now Joe, the farther down you go, the more willpower you will give up to me, and the more of my will will fill you up. My will will become yours and the more suggestible you will become, do you understand?"
"Yes Master, I understand."
"Good. Then I want you to repeat these phrases over and over until I tell you to stop. With each repetition, you will fall 10 times deeper asleep and slide 5 numbers down the pole. I hear only master. I obey only master. I slide down the pole. My will is -10. And so on. Understand?"
"I hear only master. I obey only master. I slide down the pole. My will is -10. I hear only master. I obey only master. I slide down the pole. My will is -15."
"Those words are life to you, Joe Life and absolute truth. Feel them become more and more true the deeper down you go, as more and more of my will replaces yours."
"Life and absolute truth. Yes master. I hear only master. I obey only master. I slide down the pole. My will is -20. I hear only master. I obey only..."
His evil spell cast, Mesmero stood and walked slowly over to Frank who looked back at him fearfully, like a deer caught in the headlights.
* * *
As Tony headed for the trapdoor, he felt a heavy hand fall on his shoulder. It was Mesmero. Tony looked up at the handsome, slightly Slavic features, dark hair and dark eyes that were full of concern.
"Tony! Don't be rash! You've got to watch out for yourself and your friends now! You're all they've got!"
"What do you mean?" Tony asked.
"I mean, they've been compromised," Mesmero said, "I can see it in their eyes, their movements! I've seen it a dozen times before! They can't be trusted!"
"But-are you sure? I mean, they're my friends! Besides they're back now!"
"Their bodies are back. But they were gone quite a while. And remember, they were with my brother!"
"What's going on?" Chet said, coming over, "Tony, s'everything ok?" Chet crossed his arms and stood behind Tony flexing all his muscles, looking like a bouncer.
Four months ago, tired of all his friends' ribbing and dating none but his right hand, Chet had started going to a gym lifting weights. After a few months Chet's gut had slimmed considerably and all his baby fat had finally changed into glorious man-muscle. Now, with his short, dark, curly hair, penetrating eyes, and muscles bulging out of a navy blue wool-knit sweater, Chet was a handsome and formidable figure of a man.
"Whoa, Chet, everything's cool," Tony said. Quickly he filled him in on the conversation so far.
"What should we do now, then?" Chet asked.
"Find and recapture my brother. Watch your backs. Send the girls home. And above all, don't trust anything they say!"
"OK," Tony said, still a little doubtfully.
Quickly, he and Chet went out to their cars and retrieved flashlights, magnifying glasses, provisions, compass, and other detective equipment.
Then they went back inside and face the girls.
"Cassie, Iola, I'm sorry but we've decided- "Tony began.
"Oh no, you don't!" Cassie said, "You're not cutting us out just because we're girls! We're tough! And valuable members of this team!"
"Yeah!" Iola said.
"Yeah Tony!" Frank said, "The girls can handle it down there in the dark. Can't they Joe?"
"Sure Frank. Not to mention the rats."
"And the mice."
"Ohhhh, don't forget the cockroaches. Remember that big one?"
"You mean the one by the-"
"No, no, the reeeeally big one."
Oh right! That one! Oh! Oh! Remember the spiders?"
"Do I! Oh, and how bout that one-"
"On second thought," Cassie interrupted, "I'm really tired! I think maybe it would be best to leave this up to you guys. I'll drive Iola home. OK, Iola?"
"OK," Iola said faintly. Both girls were looking a little green around the gills, but Iola was greener.
Everyone said their good-nights and the girls headed for the door. Quickly. As the front door closed, the guys could hear the faint but unmistakable sound of someone puking. Mesmero did not miss the quick, mutual smug glance the Hardy boys exchanged.
"You know," he spoke up, "I think it would be a good idea if I came along with you boys. I know things about my twin that you don't. I may be of aid to you."
"I don't know," Joe said doubtfully, "What if we do run into your twin? Won't that just cause more problems? How would we tell you apart?"
"Joe!" Frank admonished, "Don't be impolite. We'd be glad to have you along, sir. But my brother does have a point. What if we run into your brother and there is a struggle? How would we tell you apart?"
Mesmero's eyes narrowed. He could spot the "good cop, bad cop" game a mile away.
"No problem," he said, "Get ready to go, I'll be back in a moment."
Mesmero dashed off backstage. While he was gone, the four teens packed up and got ready to go down the trapdoor. When Mesmero returned he was dressed in an extra costume, (his brother had hidden his street clothes, he explained) and showed the boys how he had shaved his left sideburn.
"Now you can always tell us apart!" he said happily.
"Great," Frank said thickly.
"Super," Joe said, sounding slightly sick.
Mesmero nodded to himself. Compromised.
However, Tony and Chet were genuinely happy to have Mesmero's assistance and expressed it kindly.
Then, one by one, they dropped through the trapdoor into the dark adventure that waited below.
* * *
Mesmero approached Frank slowly and, finger by finger, pulled off his white gloves. He drank in Frank's handsome body and face all laid out in glorious disarray. His shirt was half unbuttoned and had been pulled half off by his ineffectual struggles. Mesmero was, well, "mesmerized" by the nickel sized nipple attached to one exposed well-muscled pec.
As well, Frank's dark hair was now mussed and soaked with sweat. His gag was becoming soaked with saliva, although it was still firmly in place. His eyes were wild with terror and the anticipation of more to come.
"I think we can do away with this... for now," Mesmero said, undoing Frank's gag.
"Monster! Let me free this minute! You'll never get away with this!" Frank hissed.
"Did you know your brother is gay?" asked Mesmero.
"What?-I -You've got some-what???"
Effectively thrown into a state of confusion, Frank's mind reeled. Mesmero smiled. It was his favorite tactic to keep control of the conversation. And, at least in this situation, it worked.
"Oh yes. During his on-stage induction, he revealed he has a crush on your friend Tony. My question to you is, do you share his desires?"
"What!? No! Of course not! And Joe's not gay! I mean... Well... He's not that type... I mean... He's got a girlfriend, for Crissakes!"
"All a cover, I'm afraid! As is Cassie, for you!"
"That's not true!"
"Isn't it? Think about before. You didn't mind a man's touch then, did you?"
Mesmero grabbed the edge of Frank's shirt. He trailed his fingers slowly downward, exposing more and more of the pec. One by one he began flicking open the buttons. When he passed by, he let his finger brush the nipple and felt a shockwave shudder through Frank.
"That's just a physical reaction! It doesn't mean anything!"
"But it's a man who is causing that reaction! And boy, that means everything!"
Mesmero continued downward until he had unbuttoned Frank's shirt entirely. He noticed there was a button missing. He flipped back the folds of fabric to reveal a well-but-not-overly muscled chest and a gorgeous 6-pack. Placing his finger lightly on Frank's stomach, he began to lightly trace a path slowly upward.
Frank yanked frantically against his handcuffs with, of course, no result. Mesmero's fingers felt wonderful, tickle-y and erotic. They traced higher, caressed his chests and circled the nipples getting closer and closer with each revolution.
"No! Please no! Please don't!" Frank whispered, but half of him was in a fever of anticipation.
Mesmero made a final revolution directly around the nipples and then started to move away. He waited for Frank's gasp of relief as he thought he was going to be spared then reached out and grabbed both of them. Hard.
Frank's entire body stiffened and convulsed as if it had come in contact with a live wire. His eyes rolled back into his head. He groaned as waves of intense pleasure rocked his world. His dick grew instantly hard.
Mesmero eased up on the pressure a little but grew a boner himself as he watched Frank's reaction. Frank's spasms eased and he went limp in the knees and cuffs.
"No!" he whispered half-heartedly, "You've got to stop this!"
"But why?" Mesmero asked, "You're obviously enjoying this. A lot."
Mesmero continued with his ministrations and then once again pulled Frank into a deep kiss.
Frank resisted, tried to pull away, which, since he had his back against the wall, didn't get him very far. But as the kiss went on and on, and the gentle, rhythmic tugging sent wave after wave of pleasure coursing through his body, something in Frank melted.
Without warning, he leaned forward, pressing that exposed chest into Mesmero and kissed him back with a vengeance! He grabbed onto Mesmero's tongue with his pearly teeth and began sucking for all he was worth. Mesmero gasped in unexpected pleasure and hung on for the ride. Both men began a tongue wrestling match of Olympic proportions. After a while, Mesmero tried to pull back but Frank only grabbed his tongue again and pulled him back. It was the most incredible thing Mesmero had come across. Now that Frank had yielded, he was voracious!
Finally, Mesmero pulled free. Frank strained in his bonds toward Mesmero. "More, more!" he gasped.
"I don't know," Mesmero, answered mockingly, "Are you sure that's a question a straight boy should be asking? Because, damn, you sure don't kiss like one!"
"I don't know anymore! The pleasure was so intense, I had to do something! I'm so confused!" Frank wailed.
"Well, we'll talk more about it in a little while. But first I have to get back to your brother. Time to complete his training."
He crossed back over to where Joe was still deepening his own trance "I hear only master. I obey only master. I slide down the pole. My will is -300. I hear only..."
"OK Joe, you can stop now."
"Yes Master."
"I control every part of you, here at -300 willpower, don't I, Joe?"
"Yes Master."
"Your body."
"Yes Master."
"Your emotions."
"Yes Master."
"Your cock."
Yes Master."
"Your memory and thought."
"Yes Master."
"Good boy. I have some instructions for you. You must listen and obey them without thought or question because I know best for you. Understand?"
"Yes Master."
"Repeat that back to me then, boy."
"I must listen and obey without thought or question because you know best for me," Joe said robotically.
"Again. Each time you say it, the more you will believe it. The more you believe it, the more natural it will sound."
Joe was made to repeat this at least 10 times. By the time Mesmero was satisfied, Joe repeated it in a natural, matter of fact voice, the way someone mentions "The sky is blue".
"Good Joe. From now on, whenever you hear your trigger phrase, "Hardy Hypno'ed you will instantly fall this deep asleep and your will shall drop away to -300. If I call on the phone, you will be able to remain upright. When you have reached -300 you will answer back "I'm listening. Repeat this back to me, so I know you understand."
"Whenever I hear my trigger, I will fall deep asleep and my will shall drop to -300. If I'm on the phone I will remain standing. When I reach -300, I will answer "I'm listening".
"Whenever I hear..."
Ten times.
"When you next see Tony, you will feel your attraction to him stronger and stronger. You will feel more and more that you need to have him. You will have him when you hypnotize him. At the earliest opportunity you will get him alone, hypnotize him, and bring him to me. Repeat."
"When I next see Tony, I will..."
Ten times.
* * *
One by one, the five men dropped down onto the cushions in the dark recesses of the basement.
"Let's split up and look for clues," Frank suggested.
"Good idea, Frank," Joe piped up.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Mesmero said reluctantly.
"You got a better one? Joe asked belligerently.
"Well - I - I mean - well I guess not," Mesmero said, a little caught off guard, "Well, let's at least agree to stick with a buddy."
"OK. That sounds OK," Joe said reluctantly. "Tony, you come with me. We'll search off to the left."
"And the rest of us will search off over here," Frank said.
The boys turned on their flashlights and started making wide sweeps over the dark floor.
Frank, Chet, and Mesmero started in the direction of the trash pile. Unobtrusively, Frank led them over to it. Automatically, they skirted the edges of it. Chet searched to the left and Frank and Mesmero went off to the right.
Mesmero moved his flashlight from left to right. When he moved it back to the left again, Frank was gone.
"Frank! Frank! Where'd you go!? Frank!"
There was no answer.
Moving his flashlight in a wide circle, Mesmero felt increasingly uneasy. Frank was nowhere to be seen. This was because Frank was behind him deliberately keeping out of the light. In his right hand he held a lead pipe, picked up from the trash pile. Closer and closer he circled toward Mesmero keeping to his back.
"Frank! Frank! Where did you go! Come on, this isn't funny! We were supposed to stick together!" Mesmero grew more and more anxious as he began feeling like he was being stalked in one of those bloody slasher flicks.
Closer... .closer... right behind him. Frank raised the pipe.
At that moment, something scraped under Mesmero's foot. He bent down to pick it up just as Frank swung the pipe, missing him by inches.
Mesmero picked up a shirt button, the one Frank had dropped as he was carried away.
Frank hid the pipe behind his back and stepped into Mesmero's vision. "What do you have there?" he inquired. It would not do to have Mesmero calling out.
"Frank! There you are! Where'd you go?"
"Oh, just over there..." Frank waved indistinctly. "So, what is that?"
"It's a button. Take a look."
"Wow, cool! You know, you make a pretty good detective! Too good!"
Mesmero's eyes widened but it was too late. This time Frank found his mark, right at the base of the skull. Mesmero saw a great flash of light and then... and then all was darkness.
Meanwhile, Tony and Joe were searching in a completely different, completely wrong section of the basement.
The basement was littered with pieces of fabrics, old trash, old hats, costumes, disused umbrellas, wire, rope and such and old bits of cardboard and wood. So it was no wonder when Joe tripped and fell onto the floor holding his foot.
"Joe! You OK man!?" Tony asked.
"I'm not sure. I mean, I hurt my foot. It might be bleeding. Or broke. Would you take a look for me, Tony?"
"Well sure. But if it's really hurt, we'll have to get you to a doctor. I only know a bit of first aid."
"No problem," Joe's voice grew softer as he took off his shoe, revealing a white socked foot. Just look. That's all I ask. Just look. Look closely."
"'K. But I don't see any blood."
"Look closer. Examine every inch. Feel the arch. Focus in on the toes. Examine each one. Five toes. Five. Looking deeper. Feeling your eyes get a little heavy as they stare deeper and deeper into the toes. Four. Your body is getting heavy as you look at my foot but you can't look away now. Three. Heavier and heavier, your eyes are like lead weights, sinking deeper and deeper into relaxation. Two. Your body is as heavy as your eyes. Sinking deeper and deeper toward the floor. Closer and closer to my foot. One. Let your eyes close but continue to see my foot Tony."
Tony was a little confused when he felt his body get heavy, but by that time it was too late. By then, he didn't really care. Joe had a really great foot! And such cute toes! Why didn't he notice before?
"My foot is beautiful, isn't it Tony? Slide your finger over your arch and relax deeper. That's it. Why don't you count the toes and relax deeper with every one. By the pinky, you will be deep asleep."
"Five, four, three, two, one." Tony smiled and touched each toe lightly with every number, and then sat there on his knees, swaying gently, eyes closed. Joe had to suppress a gasp. He had no idea that having his toes touched would be so erotic.
"Good Tony. I'm going to count backwards from ten. With each number you will go deeper to sleep. With every number your lips will be more and more magnetized towards my foot, until at 1 you will kiss my foot and be completely obedient to the foot and the man attached to it. Ten, deeper and deeper asleep. Nine, closer, to my foot. Eight. Closer to submission. Seven. Six...
Tony could feel his head get heavier and heavier. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind he realized something was wrong, but his body was too heavy and comfortable to care. And the foot! That white socked foot with that delicate arch, those gorgeous toes! It was the center of his universe now, growing bigger and bigger, filling him up and soon even crowding out those nagging doubts.
"Three, two, one! Submit completely, to the foot and to me! This is easy for you now, isn't it, Tony?"
But Tony was too busy kissing Joe from the tip of his toes to the base of his ankle and back again, to immediately answer.
"Find anything, Chet?" Frank asked.
"Not yet. Hey, where's Mesmero?"
"I dunno. I guess he got separated in the dark. Don't worry. I'm sure he'll turn up eventually."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Say, Chet," Frank said, as he continued to pretend to keep searching, "I've been meaning to tell you how impressed I am with your body building. You've come a long way."
"Really? Gee, thanks Frank! That's swell!"
"No, really! Why, I bet your biceps alone are about 18 inches now."
"Naw! Prob'ly not even 15 yet! But thanks all the same buddy."
"Well, it's got me curious now! Let's check! Whip it out!" Frank commanded.
"What!? Now?? Maybe we should keep our minds on the mystery," Chet said, a little embarrassed.
"Oh, it'll only take a second. Come on. It'll be all right. We're mates," Frank's voice had softened, smoothed seductively. "Come on. No need to be embarrassed."
"Well... OK," Chet pulled back the blue sleeve of his sweater to reveal one thick arm.
"There you go... Now flex... Oh, yeah! Oh wow!"
"Frank? You OK, man? You're soundin' a little strange."
"Yeah, I'm OK. Gee, it's a little dim in here even with the flashlight. Would you mind if I had a feel?"
"Weeeelll..." Chet wasn't sure about going that far.
"No, it's OK, Chet, really. It'll be just like a doctor, when he touches you. I promise."
"Well, I guess that would be all right," Chet agreed.
Frank reached out and ran one forefinger slowly along the large, rounded swell of the bicep. Chet gasped. That touch felt nothing like a doctor's! He jerked his arm away.
"Frank! No! What's got into you! You want I should slug you?"
"Nothing's wrong Chet. Actually, I hope it's OK to tell you this, but I'm actually really grateful to you for showing me your arm. It's even better close up than I thought it would be."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ever since you've been working out, I've been so proud of your determination and results. And as those results grew, I've grown fascinated with your body. With your muscles. I think they're fantastic! Amazing! And I've wanted to touch them for a long time. Why do you think I spotted you all those times?"
"Now I think I should slug you," Chet said, pulling back a ham-sized fist.
"OK, OK! I know I must sound weird! Go ahead if you want but before you do, admit that a part of yourself isn't attracted to your new size. That you don't love your new body! And most of all that you didn't work out to win the admiration of others. If you can admit all that, then go ahead and deck me!"
Frank closed his eyes and waited for the blow to fall. A few seconds later, when it didn't, he cracked open one eye.
Chet was standing there with one fist still pulled back. Then he let it drop. Frank breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're right, Frank. I guess I did work out to enjoy looking good."
"Then enjoy it! Look at it again! Let me look at it again. It's OK. There's only the two of us. That's right. Flex it again. Focus in on that swell. It's hot. Real hot. Tight. Real tight. I bet after a long workout those muscles get sore. They must feel heavy. Like they weigh a ton. Am I right?"
"Sometimes." Chet said, still looking at his arm.
"Keep looking at that bicep. That big, heavy, strong bicep. You've earned it. Focus in. It's all right. You've earned it. You enjoy it. Bet you stand at the mirror at home and pose for yourself, don't you big guy?"
"Sometimes," Chet said again.
"Focus in. Focus deeper. Deeper. Pretend you're at the mirror at home. Admiring. Focusing. Feeling that arm get tighter. Tighter. A bicep of steel. An arm of steel. As your arm gets tighter, your eyes get heavier. Just a little. Heavier. Heavier. As heavy as your arm is. As heavy as your body is. Your entire body becoming as heavy as steel. Your eyes are so heavy now. It's so tiring staring deeper and deeper into that bicep. Drawing them down, down, down, closed. Closed tighter. Your entire body is heavy. Becoming fixed. Rigid. Rigid as steel. Rigid as iron. When I count to 5 your entire body will be as rigid and fixed as a statue of iron and you will fall into a deep, deep sleep. One, two, three, four, five."
Chet stood there with his eyes closed, his arm still flexed, looking like a statue in a museum. Frank tried to bend his arm down and found it tightly fixed.
"Good, Chet. When I count from 1 - 3 you will be able to unfix your arm and as tightly fixed as it is now, that is how limp your body will become and you will fall deep, deep asleep. One, two, three."
Chet's arms unbent and his entire body went limp. He bent forward and nearly fell completely over if Frank hadn't caught him, leaning his shoulder into his stomach.
"Good, Chet, continue going deep, deep asleep and find it is very easy to support your weight and stand up.
Chet obeyed.
"Good Chet. Would you like to have even bigger muscles?"
"Sure, Frank," came the slow reply.
"Good. Look at that bicep. It's growing. Growing bigger. 18 inches. 19 inches, 20. Enormous."
"Wow!" Chet breathed. "Great!"
"But Chet," Frank continued, "You can't get something for nothing. No such thing as a free lunch. Isn't that right?"
"Yes, Frank." Chet said.
"As your body grows bigger, your brain and brainpower get smaller. Just like the dinosaurs. And your entire body is growing, swelling. It's too big for that sweater. Better take it off."
Chet practically ripped it off, revealing a huge torso, although not as big as he imagined it was.
"Huge calves, thighs, chest, biceps. But in return, your brain is getting smaller. All your schooling is going, going, gone. Feeling yourself becoming dumber and dumber."
Uhh! Uhh!" grunted Chet.
"Hardly able to remember your name. As big as Frankenstein, bigger, and just as stupid. Aren't you boy?"
"Uuummm... .Am I what?" Chet asked slowly.
"You're just my big, dumb, muscle jock slave now, aren't you boy?"
"Me dumb! Me strong! Me obey you!" Chet said with a goofy smile plastered on his face.
"Good boy! Come here! Pull on this section of wood here."
Lumbering over like a storybook ogre, Chet tugged at the pile of junk and opened the way to the hidden door. He cast aside his blue sweater as if he forgot he even owned it.
Frank aimed his flashlight into the gloom. As if on cue, Joe appeared leading Tony by the hand. Tony was looking down, unable to take his eyes off Joe's feet.
The Hardy boys smiled at each other.
"Everything go all right?" Frank asked.
"Like a dream," Joe answered, "You?"
"I hit a snag," Frank said, "Nothing I couldn't handle, though. Muscle slave! Pick me up and carry me through that door. When we are through you can put me down to pull the pilings closed. Then you'll pick me up again."
"Me muscle slave! Me obey!" Chet lumbered forward, the goofy grin still on his face.
* * *
A little ways away, Mesmero was just waking up. He found he was lying down, hands behind him. He tried to move but found that his hands were tightly bound behind his back. His ankles were tied as well. In his mouth he tasted dirt, grease, and oil and knew he must be gagged as well, probably with a filthy rag.
Great! He thought, Tied up and gagged twice in one night!
And this time Sheila wasn't around to help him.
"Me muscle slave! Me obey!" he heard faintly.
Then came a strange squeak, squeak, squeak that he couldn't identify. Mesmero struggled quickly to a sitting position. He bent his legs inward tight to his chest and pulled his hands forward and pushed his legs through, so that his arms were now tied up in front of him instead of behind. Using his bum and legs, Mesmero crab-shuffled through the dark towards the noises, moving as fast as he could. At the same time, he kept his eye out for a piece of wood.
His head was pounding. His jaws ached from the tight cleave gag. The tastes were making him nauseous. He kept going.
Finally, he struck a board with one of his legs. He searched carefully. Yes! There was a nail in it!
Working carefully, he began sawing away at the ropes that bound his hands.
* * *
Chained to the wall, in the sub-sub basement, Frank watched dispiritedly as Mesmero brainwashed his brother, pulled him deeper and deeper into trance with every command, turning Joe into his complete and utter mind fucked hypnoslave, just as he said he would.
He would break up with Iola. Hypnotize and seduce Tony. He hadn't been kidnapped, merely fallen through the trapdoor and gotten separated and lost. He would obey his trigger without question and answer "I'm listening", whereupon he would obey any order.
Although ungagged, Frank said nothing, realizing his brother could not hear him and was lost. He stood there, legs numb, arms hanging sadly, awaiting his fate.
After leading Joe through one cycle of commands, Mesmero placed a set of earphones over the now limp and unresisting teen's ears. Then he leaned over and pressed a few buttons on the apparatus next to the chair. It turned out to be a sophisticated recording device. Mesmero had been recording his voice this entire time and now he switched on the tape which began to indoctrinate Joe on a continuous loop.
"There we go. That should give us some more time alone. Won't that be nice?"
"Yes," Frank said dully.
"What was that, Frank? I don't think I quite-"he twisted a nipple viciously, "heard you!"
"Ahhhh!" Frank cried, "OK, OK, yes! Yes dammit, it'll be nice!"
"That's better,"
"Look, you've won! I'm here! I have to do whatever you want! You don't have to hurt me as well!"
"What did you say?" Mesmero asked.
"I said, don't hurt me anymore," Frank replied.
"No, before that."
"I said I have to do anything you want," Frank said fearfully, not liking where this was going.
"Indeed," Mesmero said, tracing a finger lightly down Frank's face, to his neck, to his chest, "And soon - you'll want to as well."
Grabbing his tits, he reduced Frank to putty once again. Again he kissed him ardently. This time, Frank gave no resistance and kissed him back. Mesmero moved down, sucking on his neck and his nips. Then he moved even farther down and unzipped his prisoner's pants.
An hour later, Frank cried out and bucked his hips wildly as Mesmero's talented mouth milked him dry for the third time. By this time, Frank's hair was matted and soaked and his body was covered in a light coating of sweat. His eyes were glazed and wild and he was drooling slightly. He had long since given up any straight ambitions and had given himself over completely to Mesmero's relentless, cum-hungry mouth.
"My God, Frank, you are a dynamo! You are going to be a welcome addition to my stable."
"Frank made a gurgling noise but could not speak. That last orgasm was so intense he could not decide between pleasure and pain.
There was a ping. Frank frowned. It sounded like an oven timer.
"Oh goody! Frank, it sounds like your brother's done!"
Mesmero removed Joe's headphones and restraints.
"All right, Joe! Rise and serve me!"
Joe sat up. He opened his eyes and stood. "Master! I hear and obey!"
Frank was horrified. Joe's eyes were empty, void of expression and emotion. They were open and yet... and yet they were closed too. It was awful.
"Joe, for your first task, I want you to come over here and help me move your brother over to the black chair that you just got up from!"
"Yes Master, it will be my pleasure. I live to serve you." Joe replied.
Mesmero ordered Joe to untie Frank's ankles and set to work undoing his cuffs. When he was untied from the wall, he ordered Joe to grab his bother and hold him down to the black chair. Frank tried to bolt but Joe grabbed him and put him in a full nelson. Frank struggled but in his weakened condition he could not break free.
"Joe, no! Don't do this! Please! Someone help!"
But Joe was merciless. Quickly and efficiently he forced Frank over to the black recliner where Mesmero was waiting to strap him in. Frank bucked and kicked but it was no use. As Joe held him down, Mesmero strapped in his chest, wrists and forearms. After that, Frank's struggles were useless. Mesmero took his time strapping Frank's legs, ankles and waist. Then under orders, Joe held Frank's head still as Mesmero strapped down Frank's forehead. Rebelliously, Frank strained against his bonds but it was no use. He was immobile.
"You won't get me like you did my brother!" Frank cried, "You never gave me any trigger to put me under!"
"Hmmm, that's right!" Mesmero said as if it had never occurred to him, "Oh wait! I remember now! I thought about that."
He placed the earphones over his ears and a large visor over his eyes fixing it onto his head with a thick rubber strap over the back of his head.
Mesmero flicked a few switches on the apparatus. Immediately, behind the visor, Frank saw a pulsating spiral that changed colors. In his ears he heard, "Deeper, so deep into the spiral. Focus, focus into the center, and let it draw you deep, deep into the center. Feel your eyes get heavy, so heavy. Feel your body get heavy, so..."
"I believe this is familiar to you, Frank." Mesmero said smugly.
Frank struggled and bucked wildly. "NOOOOOO!!!!" he screamed and wept.
But the insidious spiral drew him in slowly but surely. Slowly, his struggles grew less and less as the suggestions to grow tired, sleepy, heavy took their toll. And after struggling that much, not to mention Mesmero's workout on him, Frank was tired. Too tired. His fighting slowed, stopped. Mesmero watched it all, with a huge boner. Watching guys slowly go under that way always did that to him. Joe waited at military attention for Mesmero's next order.
Finally, Frank was under. Mesmero drew his will down and away, sapping it slowly, like a maple tree, until he was at -300. He pressed a few more buttons and began another tape to indoctrinate Frank.
He would break up with Cassie. He was impressed with Chet's progress. Turned on by his muscles. He would hypnotize and bring Chet here as soon as possible. He would obey the trigger, Hardy Hypno'ed, without question, and answer back, "I'm listening". He had fallen through the trapdoor and had wandered the basement searching for Joe and a way out.
"Oh, and one more thing, Frank. You are missing a button. How did that happen?"
"I pulled it off and dropped it outside your camouflaged door, Master, in the hopes that someone would find it and rescue us."
Mesmero's mind raced. "When you come back, you will retrieve the button. If anyone else finds it you will make up some excuse as to why it's there. It fell off. Lousy stitching. Or something else. Be creative. Understand?"
"I understand, Master. I hear and obey."
"If by some strange chance someone else other than your friends finds it, you will incapacitate him, quickly, quietly and continue in your mission bringing your friends here. Understand?"
"I understand."
Mesmero put Frank's looping tape on and then turned his attention back to Joe.
"Well, Joe," Mesmero said, "It seems I finally have you all to myself for awhile."
"Yes Master. It seems that way."
"Hardy Hypno'ed. Deep sleep."
Joe's head slumped forward and his chin hit his chest.
"OK Joe. When I count to 5, you will awake and find that you now have become the world's greatest male stripper. I have hired you to dance for me. But you have a problem. You are incredibly attracted to me but you are not allowed to fraternize with clients. But the more you dance, the hornier you will get until at the end of the dance, you will have no choice but to act on your feelings. Understand?"
"Yes Master."
"Good. 1, feeling yourself changing, 2, feeling your inhibitions fade and disappear, 3, 4, feeling your stripper persona rise up and take control, 5!"
Joe snapped awake. His blue eyes widened when he saw Mesmero and a slight blush came to his fair cheeks. "Hi there. My club sent me to this address. Are you the man who called?"
"I am." said the mesmerist.
"Yes sir," Joe gulped slightly and pressed an imaginary button on an imaginary boom box.
He began to dance.
Undulating his hips, circulating his knees, he began by untucking his white t-shirt. He started lifting it by degrees showing off a beautiful six pack. Down. Up again, higher. Down again. Still gyrating, he gave a double spin and this time lifted it higher and revealed one pec with the rosy nipple that Mesmero had only played with through that shirt. Down again. Up, showing the other pec. Down, and Joe moved his hands slowly, sensually from his collar down over his chest, down over his stomach, down to his waist. Then suddenly, in one quick move he pulled off his shirt, slung it over his shoulder, danced over to where Mesmero was sitting, took two steps back. Took one step forward. Hesitated, swinging his hips slightly. Took two steps back. Whipped his shirt around over his head and threw it to Mesmero who caught it. Joe danced over to Mesmero, straddled him, and moved his hips slowly down, down, down till he was nearly sitting in Mesmero's lap. He brought his face close to Mesmero's looking into his eyes, searching for something. Then he jumped up and away, back flipping twice, doing high kicks and some other moves that Mesmero was sure were taken from his kick-boxing training. He kicked off his shoes. He twirled in a pivoted spin in his socked feet. Slowly, seductively he opened the snap of his jeans. Pulled down the zipper. Twirled again. Let the jeans drop. Stepped out of them. In nothing but his tighty whiteys, he swaggered over and grasped the back of the chair Mesmero was in and once again straddled and lowered, this time sitting on Mesmero's lap. He gyrated against Mesmero's rock hard-on. He moved his face closer to Mesmero's until they were an inch apart.
"I can feel that you like what you see," Joe whispered.
"You know it," Mesmero replied.
"I want to kiss you," Joe pulled back as if fighting an unseen force pushing him toward Mesmero, "So bad. But I can't. I'll get fired."
"Not my problem," Mesmero said unfeelingly.
"Arrrrgh!" Joe groaned in frustration. He jumped off Mesmero like a popcorn kernel and danced feverishly around Mesmero's chair for several minutes, trying to work off the sexual energy. Faster and faster. The dance reached its climax to music that only Joe could hear. Teasingly at first, he pulled down his underwear, showing only glimpses of his cock. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he thought about something devilishly important. Then, he ripped off his underwear leaving himself gloriously nude, save his socks. He gasped and the decision was made.
"Oh to hell with it! I quit!" he gasped, and rushed at Mesmero. He jumped at the chair, landed on Mesmero square and true and kissed him passionately. The force of their momentum was such that it tipped the chair over backwards and knocked them over. Mesmero and Joe rolled over and over on the floor stuck together as if fused into a single entity. Still kissing, Joe clawed at Mesmero's buttons. Mesmero was quick to help. Clothes went flying everywhere.
Somehow Joe ended up sitting on Mesmero's waist straddling him. Mesmero sat up and took a rosy nipple in his mouth and pinched the other one. Joe went into raptures and returned the favor. Mesmero moved lower. Hands roamed everywhere. They rolled around like a couple of crazy weasels. And then...
And then, for the rest of the hour that took up Frank's brainwashing, Mesmero did things to Joe. Joe did things to Mesmero. Crazy things. Naughty things. Things that would make a nun faint and a priest blush.
Later, upstairs in the basement, Mesmero gave Frank and Joe their final instructions.
"In a moment, I shall wake you and you will forget all that has happened down here in my underground hideaway. Everything from the moment you dropped down the trapdoor, is being forgotten. This is easy to do since at -300 willpower, I completely control your memory, don't I boys?'
"Yes master." Frank and Joe said in unison.
"Joe, repeat back to me what did happen to you."
"I fell through. I got separated from you. I got lost in the dark." Joe recited.
"Frank, what happened to you?"
"I fell through the trapdoor in the fog. It was dark. I searched for Joe. I found him."
"These events are what happened. The only thing that happened. Feel these memories become real, a part of you forever. Becoming a part of you in 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1, now!"
"Yes Master, I feel it," Frank and Joe said, almost together.
"Good. And even though our time together has been erased, you will obey completely your instructions and do anything you need to, to complete your missions. Understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. Joe, you come over here, in the midst of being lost. Frank, you stay here, in the midst of searching for Joe. Good. Now, the both of you count to 10 and wake up wide awake."
As the boys started counting, Mesmero hurried away into the gloom and hid himself in the dark, listening to the finish.
"9-10." A pause. "Joe! Joe! Where are you, bro!?
"Frank!? Frank!? Is that you? Thank goodness! It's so dark down here! Let's get out of here!"
"You said it! Hey I think those are stairs over there. At last! This place is quite a maze."
From overhead, Mesmero saw a square of light as the trapdoor was opened.
"Then that's it," Mesmero heard faintly, "We've got to go down there! It's the only way we'll be able to pick up mad Mesmero's trail and save Frank and Joe!"
Mad Mesmero, huh? He thought.
"Did someone mention our names?"
"Good-bye boys," Mesmero chuckled evilly, "See you soon!"
* * *
"Hello boys! Welcome back!" Mesmero said cheerfully.
"Back? What's happened? Wait, I remember you! Oh no, Frank! That's Mesmero's twin!"
"God, I feel weird," Frank said from where he was cradled in Chet's bare, muscled torso. "Oh my God, what have we done to our friends!? Down Chet!"
Chet set Frank down on his feet.
"I'll tell you what you've done! Brought me two new slaves to be programmed just as I've commanded!"
"No way, you creep! Frank, let's get-"
"Hardy Hypno'ed," Mesmero said.
"I'm listening," the Hardy Boys said in unison.
"Joe, wake your slave up."
Joe complied.
"Hey! Where am I? What's going on? Who are - YOU!" gasped Tony in recognition.
"Frank, command your slave to tie Tony to this chair," Mesmero said, indicating the straight backed chair and scraps of rope he had gathered from the above basement floor before coming downstairs again.
"Muscle slave! Tie Tony to that chair using that rope!" Frank commanded.
"Me obey! Me tie!" Chet said.
"Huh? No way! Frank, what's wrong with Chet!? Chet!? Chet, no! No! Let go! No! Uhh!"
Struggling mightily, Tony was no match for Chet's bulk. Trying to escape, Tony slipped out of his shirt. Underneath Tony was wearing a white weave t-shirt. The t-shirt's arms had been cut off turning it into a formfitting wifebeater.
"ARRRGH!" Grunting in anger and frustration, Chet surged forward and chased Tony, catching him just as Tony got to the door and was reaching for the knob. Chet grabbed him round the neck and chest and pulled him away from the door. Then, in a tight bear hug from behind, he dragged Tony back to the chair.
Chet forced Tony's hands behind him and held them together in one meaty fist. He picked up a piece of rope in the other. Chet tied Tony's wrists quickly together. Then he threaded the rope through a few of the chair's back slats and tied Tony's hands to the back of the chair. As Tony was struggling to get out of that, Chet quickly took another piece of rope and wound it around Tony's chest securing it to the back slats as well. Then he took two shorter pieces and secured Tony's biceps to the sides of the chair.
Tony's upper body was now pretty much immobile. Chet was just working on tying Tony's right thigh to the bottom of the chair when the door to the lair crashed open.
It was Mesmero.
"Hold everything!" he shouted authoritatively.
Chet paused and looked up. Evil Mesmero's face twisted in hate.
"Mesmero! Help! Something's gone terribly wrong! Get me loose!"
Evil Mesmero ignored Tony. "How did you find this place?" he snarled.
Good Mesmero held up Chet's blue sweater. "I found this next to the stage sets and figured the rest out. I'm only glad I got here to stop you in time!" He headed toward Tony's chair.
"You'll stop nothing!!!" Evil Mes shouted, "Twin Tranced!"
Good Mes stopped in his tracks. "I'm listening," he said.
"OH NO!!!!!" yelled Tony.
"Oh Yes!!" Evil Mes shouted triumphantly, "Frank, command your man to continue his task."
Frank complied. Chet continued tying Tony's thighs tightly to the chair.
Evil Mes faced his twin who was now standing at attention. "You don't think that I actually escaped that hellhole you call a mental institution all those times without actually having you under my thumb?" he asked.
"OK, sir. I don't think that." replied his twin.
"Baaahh!" Evil Mes scoffed and then pronounced his twin's fate in the form of a rhyme, a kind of spell, as it were.
"Bad twin, good twin, naughty and nice,
Let the former prevail, let the latter turn to ice!"
Abruptly, Good Mes awoke. "Huh? What happened? Hey, what's going on? My feet are stuck! Oh my God! They're encased in ice! Brother! What have you done!? No! Oh no! You've hypnotized me! Uhhh! The ice is moving up to my calves now! Nooo! You can still stop this! Please! You know I hate closed in spaces. God! It's up to my knees now!"
"You should have thought of that before you stuck your big nose in where it didn't belong!"
"Up to my calves now. My hips. Brother, please! Oh God, past my waist now! Can't feel my hands! Going up to my chest! Please, brother, we're twins! If that means anything... Uhhh, can't move arms! Up to my neck! If it... means... Mmmmmmmm!"
Evil Mes watched as the transformation completed itself. Good Mes' mouth fixed shut and his eyes glazed over as the ice formed over his head, transforming him into a total statue, eyes fixed on one spot, forever.
From inside his "cube" Mesmero helplessly watched Chet finish tying Tony's ankles to the front legs of the chair and then as he re-tied his wrists more securely. He heard his evil twin laugh maniacally, but even that echoed and faded as he experienced brain freeze and he knew no more.
This story is copyright © 25 July 2004 by hypnojon32. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fan fiction. The Hardy boys and their friends were created by Franklin W Dixon. No copyright infringement is intended.
This story contains male/male sex, s/m role-play, and hypnofetishism.
Duplication of this story is allowed only for non-profit purposes. Any duplication of this file must include these copyright messages intact.


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Bahabey Cad No 15, Corum, Turkey
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Wakeup SRK with Keits and skisonic Streaming Live, Featuring Special Guest FishStix of Twitch TV
Keits and skisonic are set to get Talky Tuesday started right with this week's edition of Wakeup SRK Live. As always, they'll be bringing you all the important news you may have missed from around the fighting game community before moving onto the meat of tonight's episode. Ben "FishStix" Goldhaber, Outreach Manager over at Twitch TV, will be tonight's special guest, offering his unique perspective on the scene. The stream will be live in this article, but you can also head over to Twitch TV to chat with your fellow spectators. Remember, tweets that include the hashtag #WSRK will be feature on the show, just keep it classy! Watch live video from Keits Stream and WakeupSRK Live on www.twitch.tv Source: Wakeup SRK Live |


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Verizon Fall Roadmap….sneak peak anyone?
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According to a report released by Strategy Analytics tablet sales have taken a 331% increase from the second quarter of 2010 to the second
[How To] Explode Your Brain!
When someone turns to me and tells me they have a splitting headache, I normally kindly say "I'm sorry about that" and continue with
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The next chapter in Samsung's Android history with Sprint is looming around the corner! According to leaked images from Engadget the Galaxy S
Alert!! Tonight Help Stop Autism!! (Android Radio Show)
I want to personally give thanks to user Rob Gorski (ptfdmedic) for his help in raising awareness and funds to battle autism, and


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Brad Faxon
New England PGA TOUR Favorites Brad Faxon and Brett Quigley Trade Golf Clubs for Shopping Carts in S
18 /PRNewswire/ -- PGA TOUR pros Brad Faxon and Brett Quigley might best be known ..... Championship Supermarket Sweeps. Faxon and Quigley raced against the clock ..... R.I., the charities chosen by Faxon and Quigley, respectively, Stop
Tway beats Faxon for Canadian Open title
shot a four-under 66 on Sunday while Faxon posted a 67. The duo tied at eight-under-par ..... Both players found the fairway at 18 but Faxon pulled his second shot 40 feet from the ..... his approach to 18 feet and it was up to Faxon , known as one of the top putters in the
Faxon and Sluman lead Champions Tour team event
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Kuehne and Sluman work overtime to win Shootout
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Chapman, Blake atop better-ball event
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