Note: This story contains mind control and suggestions of incest.
I stood in front of the whole class, my chest bare, my hands on the fly of my jeans.
"Go ahead, Jason," my professor prodded. The older man standing next to me brought a hand up to my abdomen, his bare skin slightly cold against mine. I flinched at the unexpected sensation. Mr. Stone absentmindedly stroked his hand along my lean torso, seemingly admiring my flat stomach and firm chest. "Go on now," he said.
I looked out at the staring faces. They all gazed at my body with eager anticipation. I popped my button and unzipped, then pushed my jeans down my thighs. My very tight trunks were my only separation from complete immodesty. They weren't the kind of underwear that I would have chosen myself, but my girlfriend said they made me look sexy. Now I was modeling them for a classroom of horny college boys.
"Perfect, thank you." Mr. Stone turned towards the class. "Now, as you can see, Jason here is already quite aroused." His hand slid lower, towards my trunks. I felt my face go hot when my professor drew attention to my boner. I couldn't help myself. My cock had grown hard inside my tight underwear and I was certain that every student in the room could see my stiff pole outlined by the stretched fabric.
I'm a grad student, 26 years old. This is the class that I assist as part of my graduate responsibilities. I had no idea I would end up in this position, with my professor groping my bulge, making me even harder, and being watched by a dozen teenage boys. Mr. Stone had told me that his classes were composed entirely of freshmen and indeed when I checked the roster before class, each student's age was marked next to his name. They were all 18 or 19 years old. Pretty soon after the start of our first class session, all those guys sitting at their desks were treated to the site of me stripping off my shirt and shoving down my jeans.
"Jason's aroused state is causing his penis to emit pre-ejaculate," Mr. Stone said. My dick was so hard in the professor's hand, stretching my undies so tight that the contours of my flared cock-head were easily visible. And at the tip, a growing dark wet spot formed. As he continued to manipulate me, the fluid filtered right through the fabric, collecting in a heavy dollop of clear goo. After another moment, the volume of precum was overwhelmed by gravity and it stretched in a thick strand down to the floor. "Can everyone see this?" he asked, pressing a fingertip to my hidden helmet to collect some of my juice. I bit my lip to try to stop from moaning, but I failed, letting the class know that the strength of my composure was at the whim our professor's attentive hands.
"Yes, professor," the boys answered in unison. Unlike many half-hearted call-and-response moments from other classes, these thirsty teenagers were enthusiastically studious and observant.
I could not have possibly been prepared for what Mr. Stone had planned for me and the other students in the coming days. He would make us do things. He made us WANT to do these things. I was straight, but... was I? I had a girlfriend. I had never had same-sex urges before. But I was so horny, standing there, nearly naked, all those young men's eyes on me, my professor's hand manipulating my meat. I actually did want this. I wanted Mr. Stone's body. I wanted all the cute teenagers sitting out there. I found myself hoping that Mr. Stone would bend me over his desk and...
My god, I had never had thoughts like these before. Mr. Stone had changed me somehow. While I contemplated this strange power he had over me, Mr. Stone shifted. He leaned forward and eased my trunks down my legs, and I lifted first one foot then the other as he removed my jeans and underwear. I was wearing only my socks, with the full length of my slender, lightly muscled body on display. My cock was harder than it had ever been, shooting up from my pubes like a tree trunk.
Those brief moments were burned into my memory. That was the very beginning of our first class of the semester. Mr. Stone aptly demonstrated his powers of mind control on me. I have no recollection of what the class was supposed to be. I must have signed up for something important when setting up my final year in grad school, but those details were lost to me. In practice, the class had turned into lessons on supernatural persuasion and hot, hardcore gay sex.
The next few sessions were hazy in my mind. I remember Eric, 19. He's tall, pale, and skinny, with a shock of flaming orange hair on top of his head, as well as around the root of his long, pink prick. I released my grip on his hot meat and he held my sides for balance as he dropped to his knees in front of me. He stared right at my cock which was so close to his face that I could feel his hot breath on my hard shaft.
I watched 18 year old Tyler unbuckle our professor's belt, then open the fly and drag down the man's slacks, releasing the professor's monster. Tyler was such a petite boy, short and thin, and Mr. Stone was so huge. If he swung his hips, his cock would club the teen into unconsciousness. But instead of that, Tyler used his mouth on Mr. Stone's member, doing his best to moisten even square millimeter with his saliva.
I remember Stephen. 19 years old, a swimmer with a great ass. An ass that we all got to see filled up with Mr. Stone's hard meat-rod. The prof sat in a chair at the front of the room facing the class. We observed broad-shouldered, fit Stephen sit back onto the professor's monster, allowing it to invade his asshole. Once Stephen's butt was nestled on Mr. Stone's lap, the man pulled his student's legs up and we all watched the thick meat plowing the groaning teenager's stretched anus.
But these were just flashes. I knew things, but I couldn't clearly remember it all. I knew by the end of our fifth session, we had all experienced some sort of sexual interaction with another guy in the room. Mutual masturbation was a warm up activity. Boys pairing up to trade blow jobs was a common task. And over half the boys at that point had taken something up their ass, whether it was a finger, some object, or an actual cock. Mr. Stone loved watching my hard boner disappear into an inexperienced teen hole while instructing us in the intricacies of gay intercourse. A student might be made to recite lessons with his virgin rectum clamped tight around my thick shaft. A few lucky guys, like Tyler and Stephen, even benefited from Mr. Stone's direct, hands-on tutelage.
But, as I said, these were faint memories. I knew what had happened, but the actual moments, the lived experience, were made vague by my professor's will. He liked us to be forgetful. It was fun for him, and for us, to experience these things all over again, as if it were our first time. I knew some sessions were heavy on instruction, where we all learned a great deal through notes and spoken knowledge. And in other sessions, we were left sore and exhausted from the physical exertion of practical application.
In the midst of these sessions, my sexuality grew, both in what I desired and in practiced interactions with other guys. Mr. Stone's mind controlling powers filled me with an insatiable hunger for exploration. My mind and my body ached for more. And so, at the end of our sixth session, Mr. Stone approached me with a new opportunity. He brought up his phone from his pocket. "I have some homework for you, Jason. Is this your brother?"
On the screen was my little brother Danny's social media profile. Mr. Stone swiped through a series of pictures. Danny with some friends in his street clothes. Danny in his soccer uniform, posed with his team. Danny, bare chested, wearing only a swim suit. My cock swelled at the sight of my kid brother's lean, bare form. I wanted to see more. I wanted him to take off those trunks so I could see all of him, so I could witness his stiff 18 year old cock. I wanted him to pull my pants off and reach into my underwear and I wanted to feel his hand close around my swollen big-brother-boner. I wanted to turn him around, spread his cute buns, and explore his virgin tightness.
"Yes," I replied. "That's my younger brother Danny." I could feel Mr. Stone implanting these perverse ideas in my head. Even though I knew they were artificial, I couldn't resist the lure. Mr. Stone may have conceived of this plan, but his desires were so deeply implanted into my own psyche, they were indistinguishable from my own independent thoughts. I now possessed an innate sexual attraction to Danny.
"Good, good. You know what I want," Mr. Stone said, tucking his phone away. I left the classroom, once again fully clothed, with my hard cock painful tucked back in my snug undies and jeans, and lascivious, terrible plans for my own kid brother wafting through my mind.