by Wrestlr
[M/M, MC, hypno]
Disclaimer: There's sex, sodomy, and maybe a few other minor perversions in this. If you don't like that sort of thing, read something else. Everybody in the story is legal age. Parts of this story may be autobiographical, or it might be all fiction---who can say?
This is a revised, expanded version of my story "Martin and Sean." Is it a sequel to my other story, "Jeremy's Story"? It's true that a few characters from "Jeremy's Story" reappear here, but this is not necessarily a sequel.
Copyright - 1999 by Wrestlr. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of (and payment to) the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.
Comments to wrestlr@iname.com
Wrestlr's fiction is archived at the following URLs:
I guess he took over so gradually no one noticed. Or cared. Yeah, with the way we were all improving, probably no one cared.
All I know is, almost every day when I went out to practice, there were more guys with that intensely focused look. More of us. I'm pretty sure Coach was sending the rest of the team over to see Doc, a couple of new recruits each day or so. All I know is whenever I thought about what was happening, my head felt all muzzy inside, and I couldn't concentrate, and the thoughts just slipped away.
Seemed like I never had to jack off anymore. It was like I couldn't keep my hands off Sean. Whenever he wanted a blow-job, I gave it to him. And I liked it too, which was weird. Plus sometimes there would be this dreamlike sex with Hec and the others after practice, sometimes Coach Bradley too; I was never too sure if it really happened, but it always left me feeling that afterglow as if it really had. Not to mention how drained and peaceful inside my sessions with Doc left me feeling. I was getting it so much I didn't have to worry about chasing pussy anymore.
When Doc started spreading his influence to the rest of the team, one of his first "recruits" was this freshman. He was nineteen, first year on the squad. He was one of just a few freshmen, and he was kind of shy, so this early in the year he didn't know too many people. His name was Christian--everyone called him Chris. One day after practice while we were getting dressed and laughing and joking like usual, Doc brought him over to where we were. Chris had that dreamy-eyed expression guys get a lot when Doc talks to them. Doc sat him down on the bench next to Hec, and from then on Chris was always around with us. He was a nice guy, kind of quiet, kept to himself. Hec seemed to sort of take him under his wing.
So I'm at this club having a few drinks with some friends, and I go up to the bar, and this guy comes up to me. People do that all the time. Usually, they say something like, "Hey, aren't you on the team" or "Aren't you the guy who made that touchdown last week." But this guy, he said, "Hey, aren't you that guy from the video? The one I saw on the ‘Net?"
I'm like, "No, dude, that wasn't me."
"Yeah, yeah, you're him. The guy from that video about straight jocks who get it on with each other and their coach after practice. I saw it the clips on--" and he named the Internet URL.
I said, "Look, it wasn't me. You got the wrong guy, okay?"
Anyway, he was persistent but I finally got rid of him. It kind of worried me, what he said, so I cut things short with my friends and went back to campus. I went to a computer lab and surfed out to the URL he had named. It was kinda nondescript and boring, all text. The main page promised a collection of videos of straight, young college jocks who jack off and have sex with each other in the locker room, showers, and other campus places. To see them you had to become a member, which cost money, but there were a four sample thirty-second video clips at the bottom.
So I clicked on one. What came up was kinda of lame, like one of those amateur "hidden camera" videos, but the scene looked familiar. I recognized Coach's office. Coach came in the picture, then Sean, and Sean was blowing Coach. Just a thirty-second clip, but plenty of time to see what I needed to see. It was real, all right. Another clip called up a video of the locker room. There was me, down on my knees blowing some guy who was cut off above the nipples. Sure looked like Sean's chest though. And another one brought up a video of Doc's office with a couple of my other teammates going at it, one bent over Doc's desk getting fucked by the other. And the last one brought up the locker room again, and there was Hec and Will and Scott going at it, and in the background Coach and Sean and me.
Okay, maybe just about anyone could have put a hidden camera in the locker room, maybe even in Coach's office. But no one could have put one in Doc's office except Doc. That meant--
Holy frickin' shit--those things I'd told myself were just dreams were real after all.
I had that buzzing feeling in the back of my head, the one that always made me feel relaxed and focused and made things slip away. Usually I gave in because it made me feel so damn good, but this time I needed my head on straight. I had to think of what to do, so I pushed it back.
I went to the Psycho Building. Doc probably wasn't there this late, but maybe he was.
His door was shut. There was a light on under the door. Noises. Voices. Too muffled to make out or recognize, but obviously he wasn't alone.
Okay, I could storm in and confront them. Yeah, and if it was Coach in there, I'd get kicked off the team for sure.
Or I could walk away. Like that would solve anything.
Or I could find out if anything was going on, then decide.
There was a storeroom next to Doc's office. I remembered a ventilation grate in the wall near the floor. Maybe I could see through it into Doc's office.
That storeroom door was unlocked. Stark florescent lights blinded me for a moment. The vent would be along the wall, but it was built out a little under some cabinets. Looking through, I could see the grate on the other side, and part of Doc's desk, nothing else. I gave the cover a tug, and it came loose easily--quietly too, which was lucky. It was big vent duct. I could wedge my head and shoulders in a little ways--I've got wide shoulders. Far enough to see a little more, at least.
I could see the chairs in front of Doc's desk. In one sat Hec. In the other, Chris. Both were slouched down in their chairs. Shirtless. Shoes and socks off. Each of them wearing just a pair of shorts. Their expressions were glazed, like they were in a trance, eyes half-open. I couldn't see Doc but I could hear his voice. It sent this soothing feeling spreading through me, and I had to fight off the urge to just settle down and listen and let go of everything. Somehow I managed to shake it off.
Chris and Hec were moving. Sitting up. Moving in slow motion like sleepwalkers. Chris stood up and slipped down his shorts, underwear too, and stepped out of them. He bent over, resting his elbows on Doc's desk. Hec stood up too, and dropped his shorts. He knelt between Chris' spread legs and parted the globes of Chris' ass. He buried his face in the crack, kissing and licking Chris' ass checks, crack, and hole.
In the background, I saw Doc from the neck down for a moment. Something at chest-level that might have been a video camera. Okay, so now I had my proof.
I should have left then, but I wanted to see more. Chris was moaning and gasping, wagging his head. For a quiet kid, he sure made a lot of noise when he got his ass rimmed. I hadn't realized how cute the little fucker was. Thick blond hair and blue eyes. A light down of blond hair dusted his chest, ass, and legs--it caught the light like a golden nimbus. He was everybody's boy next door.
The contrast between Chris' skin, white as milk, and Hec's honey-brown skin wouldn't let me look away. Doc I couldn't see anymore. When Hec stood up and smeared a little lube on his cock, began to press it into Chris' ass with his hips, I was fascinated. I mean, everybody's got a little voyeur in them, right? I remembered seeing stuff like this in my dreams, which I guess weren't really dreams after all, but here it was right in front of me, just a few feet away on the other side of the ventilation grate. Chris groaned and moaned and gasped as Hec began to fuck him. Just the sight of this had me hard as steel in my jeans.
Suddenly, in the storeroom, someone grabbed my ankles and yanked me out of the duct. Before I could see who it was, somebody kicked me hard in the gut. Knocked the air out of me. I doubled up in pain.
I was gasping. Someone else--Scott--sucker-kicked me in the kidneys. He and Will stood over me. There was something about their eyes. Will kicked me again, in the stomach. I barely managed to roll with it, and my world exploded in bright pain again.
"Guys," I panted, squinting up at them and still trying to catch my breath, "it's me--Martin."
They were not themselves. Both of them--their eyes were blank, their faces expressionless, like sleepwalkers. Both of them had their shirts off, in just shorts and trainers. Scott swung back and kicked at me again. I jerked back at the last second, and he caught me with a glancing blow to the shoulder.
I scuttled away, in the corner now, my back to the wall. "Guys," I managed, "stop it."
Someone behind them. Doc's voice, "That's enough, boys. Get him on his feet and hold him steady. Let's see who we have here."
Will and Scott grabbed me and pulled me up. I was still out of breath from their blows. Each of them held me by an arm. I didn't put up a fight right away, but I was catching my breath and getting ready to.
"Well, well," Doc said. "Martin. I knew it would be you."
"What's going on here?" I snarled. This late, there was no one around to help, and Chris and Hec in the other room weren't likely to help me any more than Will or Scott.
"Really, Martin, there's no need for this drama. Did they hurt you? Here, let me make the pain go away." Doc held up the watch.
I clamped my eyes shut and twisted my head back. I pulled at Will and Scott but they held me with all their strength.
Doc's voice, very close in front of me. "Martin, I can't let you leave yet. Open your eyes, and this will all be over before you know it."
"Let me go. What have you done to my friends?"
"Martin, listen to me. Just relax and listen to me." Doc's voice held me, did something inside me. "Remember how soothing my voice is? Remember how calm it makes you feel? So calm and relaxed? Yes, of course you do. In fact, you're starting to feel that way again now, aren't you?"
In spite of myself, I felt my anger slipping away. I tried to hold on to it. Something was happening here, and I had to get free.
Doc turned my head back forward. "Just open your eyes for a moment, Martin. Look into the pattern, Martin. Just for a moment." My eyes opened almost on their own, and I looked. Even in this jittery florescent light, the lines caught the light and my eyes. "That's it," Doc said as I stared into the pattern. "You must have worked hard to fight my suggestions. So hard. But that's all over now. Now you're so tired. So very tired of fighting, I know. That doesn't matter any more. There's no need to fight. Just relax and let go." To the Will and Scott, Doc whispered, "You can let him go now, boys. Martin won't give us any more trouble. Will you, Martin?"
They released my arms. I'll say this for Doc--he must have known his stuff and done something right for me, because they never saw it coming.
Like lightning, I bolted. I snatched the watch and shoulder-slammed Doc out of my fucking way, and I was out the door. Heading down the hall, fast as I could go.
Okay, I had no clue where I was going, or what to do when I got there, but I was sure going there in a hurry! I missed a turn--remember, the Psych building is laid out like a maze or something--and I'm lost pretty quick. My footsteps are echoing like thunder as I'm running.
Okay, I get downstairs and I was passing some classrooms so I'm pretty sure I know where I am. Thing is, I heard Doc's voice up ahead too. Someone's coming up behind me too. So I duck into a dark classroom and try a window, but it's locked tighter than shit.
The overhead lights explode on, and I'm blinded. Doc's voice says, "There you are, Martin. This nonsense stops now, Martin. Give me the watch." He was blocking the doorway. Scott behind him, and probably Will too, though I couldn't see him.
I held up the watch and said, "Look into the pattern, Doc. That's it. Isn't so intricate? Like it's sucking your eyes in? Just look into the heart of it."
Doc's eyes hit the watch, and his expression went blank. He took a slow step toward me, eyes locked on the watch.
Yeah, I thought, this is the fix. I said something like, "It's so easy to get lost in the design, isn't it? Just keep looking into it."
Doc was sleepwalking to me, not taking his eyes off the watch.
"Feeling kind of tired, aren't you, Doc? It's been a long day. I bet you're getting sleepy, aren't you?"
Doc stopped a yard or so away, still not taking his eyes off the watch and the way the pattern cut the light into a kaleidoscope of colors.
"That's it, Doc. Looking into the pattern after your long, exhausting day makes you feel so sleepy, right? You'd like to just let go and sleep now, wouldn't you?"
"Actually, no," he said, suddenly looking up at me.
I was surprised as shit!
His hand grabbed at the watch, but I wasn't about to let it go. We wrestled at it. He was stronger than I would have thought--I couldn't get it away--but he wasn't strong enough to get it away from me either. I guess we were pretty evenly matched.
He was staring me right in the eye and I was staring right back, each of us trying to dominate the other with our body language while we wrestled for the watch.
"It won't work on me, Martin," he said. "See, I'm a little nearsighted. I can't make out the pattern except up close. I learned my lesson at my last college--never depend on outside tools. The real tool is my voice. All of my subjects are trained to obey my voice. Just like you're trained to listen to it, Martin. And obey. You can't fight your training, can you, Martin? No, you can't. It's too hard to fight it, and you must be exhausted from trying."
He said something else, some key phrase that hit my head like a lightning bolt. Just like when he'd call on the phone. Suddenly, I was so focused on everything he said.
"That's it, Martin. Let your training take over. Focus on my voice. Feel everything else slipping away. Arms, hands, getting so tired and numb. Let them relax and fall to your sides."
My hands felt tingly, like they were going to sleep, and my grip relaxed on the watch. Doc tugged it free easily. He held it up in front of my eyes, and it spat colors at me.
"There. Wasn't that easy? You're a good boy, just like I trained you to be. So easy to follow your training. Let everything else go. You're feeling a lot calmer now, aren't you, Martin?"
"… yes …"
Doc droned on. "So calm and relaxed. Any maybe a little tired. It's late. You should be asleep, shouldn't you? I know how important it is to get a good night's sleep, especially when you're in training. It would feel so good just to sleep."
I didn't want to struggle anymore. All I wanted to do was sleep. I yawned.
"That's right. Already yawning. Already so sleepy. Sleep, Martin. Sleep."
The world dropped out from under me, and I fell. Everything faded except the watch and Doc's voice droning on and on.
My hands were moving, all on their own. My clothes came off. Doc led me to his office. Doc announced, "Gentlemen, look who's come to join us. It's Martin." Everything after that became a fog of jumbled dreams.
Doc calling the shots. Me wanting so bad to follow his instructions.
Me kissing Hec as he fucked Chris.
Chris sucking me.
Me sucking Chris.
The heat of Chris' cum smacking into my chest.
The sharpness of Hec's dick in my ass.
My dick in Chris' ass.
Doc telling us what good boys we were and to sleep.
That's what was different with me. See, it wasn't the same for me. The others, I guess Doc made something happen with them ‘cause they never seemed to know what was goin' down. Me, I remembered. Not sure if I remembered all of it--probably not--but I sure remembered enough. At first I was clueless as the rest of them, but as time went by, I started bein' more aware durin' it ‘n rememberin' it after. Not that bein' aware meant I could stop it, ‘cause it didn't. It just din't seem like a dream no more, ‘n I din't let go and forget when Doc told me to. Doc figured out what was going on with me, but he didn't seem to care much. Hell, he threw enough perks my way I din't either. I guess you could say he knew my price. Hell, I admit it--I was bought and paid for, bro. Don't think I was no victim, though. Maybe it isn't what I would have wanted, ‘n maybe it isn't anything I'd have chosen for myself, but I was sure as hell figured out how to make the best of it.
Like with Chris. I never had thought about dudes. I liked chicks. But I sure had this thing for cute, blond white chicks. Now, Chris--Doc got inside him real frickin' good. He already liked dudes, I think, ‘n he sure had this big-ass ol' crush on me, so it was pretty easy for Doc to steer him at me. Doc just had to give him a little push here ‘n a little push there.
Me, at first I'm feeling kinda turned-off about the whole thing. Maybe Doc worked on that; maybe he didn't. So pretty soon I thought to myself, Hey, I'm like a machine out there on the field now, gonna make pro for sure, ‘n I'm getting it regular without ever having to go looking for it or the bullshit of scamming some chick in a bar. ‘N Chris, he was so devoted to me, like a puppy or something, ‘n that really stoked my ego, let me tell you. He was blond ‘n white--real cute for a guy too. After a while, Doc was videotaping things ‘n he was selling them. He said the guys who bought the tapes, they really liked me a lot, like I was a star or sumthin'. So he started slippin' me some bills every time one sold, ‘n pretty soon I got some serious cash coming in on the side. So I figured out pretty quick. Kicking serious butt on the field? Good sex? Money? Hey, I got it pretty good here.
Doc filmed us in a lot of different places. Getting' it on in the locker room, in the shower, in Coach's office, once even on the field at like 3 a.m. when no one was ‘round. Sometimes it was just me ‘n Chris, or a third guy joining us, or sometimes just me ‘n some other guy from the team. But Chris was my favorite. I guess you could say I got to where I kind of liked having his white ass around.
So we're in Doc's office. I guess this time it was going to be us having sex in a professor's office. Guess that turns some guys on.
Chris ‘n me, we was hanging at my place when Doc called. I answered, ‘n Doc talked to me for a while--I don't remember what about--but I remember how good it felt to hear his voice. Then I handed the phone to Chris, ‘n after a moment his expression kind of went vacant. He hung up, ‘n I think we both knew we wanted to go see Doc at his office, so that's where we went.
Doc sat us down in those great chairs of his--man, they're so sweet to just sit back in. He starts talking to us, ‘n I feel it happenin', that real sleepy, comfortable feeling I always get. I said I remembered what was happenin', but that doesn't mean I could ever fight it. Or maybe I weren't even thinkin' ‘bout fightin', ‘cause it felt so sweet.
After a while, I kind of opened my eyes again. Doc was talking to us. Chris stood up ‘n stripped off his shorts ‘n underwear--that's all he had on, ‘cause like I said, we'd been chillin' at my place. Then I wanted to stand up ‘n strip down too, ‘n that's just what I did. Doc had this video camera out again but I didn't care. Chris leaned over with his elbows on Doc's desk with his feet spread apart. I got down there between them ‘n started doing what a man's gotta do. Sometimes if ya wanna get some ass, ya have to lick some ass--know what I'm saying?
There's this lube on the desk, ‘n a couple condoms, ‘n I grease up Chris' butthole, ‘n pretty soon I'm sliding into that sweet, sweet ass of his. He's a loud fuck, always real vocal. I'm kind of getting off on the noise he's making--every time I fuck him, it's like the most intense fuck of his life.
I wasn't fucking him long when there's some kind of commotion from next door. I don't pay any attention to it. Like Doc always told me to, I just let it slip past ‘n kept right on. Doc, he put down the video camera, ‘n he told us we were feeling sleepy, too sleepy to fight it, ‘n we should take a little nap until he got back. It was like I just couldn't keep my eyes open all of a sudden. Chris, he sagged down onto the desk under me, ‘n I couldn't stay awake. I settled down across his back ‘n I was out like a fuckin' light.
Doc said, "Look who's come to join us." I opened my eyes, suddenly wantin' some more of Chris' ass. Doc had Martin with him, ‘n Martin was lookin' good, all naked ‘n hard ‘n ready to play. He came over, ‘n Chris sucked him while I fucked Chris' sweet, tight butt, ‘n Martin bent forward ‘n we kissed. Doc kept on tellin' us what to do ‘n we did it.
Chris stood up while I was pluggin' his ass. Not the greatest position for me, but it let Martin blow Chris while I fucked him. Chris came first, all over Martin's neck ‘n chest.
Since Martin got a piece of my boyfriend, I got a piece of Martin. Only fair, right? So I got to fuck him a while. After I pulled out, pulled off the condom, ‘n got my nut off all over Martin's back, it was like I was suddenly so sleepy aga'n, so I sprawled out in one of Doc's great chairs, feeling all satisfied, as Martin started fuckin' Chris, ‘n I closed my eyes ‘n sank into a deep, unshakeable sleep.
Martin disappeared for nearly a week. No one knew where he went. He just vanished one day. Didn't show up for classes, or practice; didn't even come by the apartment for clothes. Hec said Martin must have shacked up with some chick, but I knew better. That wasn't Martin's style. Hec can sure be an asshole sometimes.
When he came back, he was different. During practice he worked his heart out but that wasn't the problem. The problem was outside of practice. He was quieter, almost like something had gone out inside him. For one thing, he was almost like an amnesiac--there were whole days and whole blocks that he just didn't remember. Things we'd done, things I'd told him or he'd told me. A lot of it was just gone. One of those blocks was any clus of where he'd been during the last week or what he'd done. When I'd ask he'd just say, "I don't remember." He didn't seem too worried about it either.
So I asked Doc about it. Sometimes he kind of confided in me--I mean, he told me about the problems he had at a previous school where he was helping out the wrestling team and how he had to move, change jobs, and change his name to get past that scandal--so I was hoping, if he did know something about where Martin disappeared to, he might tell me. Instead, he just said he didn't know and that I should probably ask Martin.
I didn't much care. See, Martin was becoming less important to me. I had this thing going with Coach—he was like a father to me. No, more than a father, and when I was around Coach Bradley it was like, Martin who?
I was spending a lot of time at Coach's house. We were together like a couple, because that's the way Doc wanted it, and it just felt so right to me. Coach and me, the way it was meant to be. So anyway, I didn't have a lot of time to hang around my apartment and worry about where Martin was and when he was going to drag his ass home.
By now I think Doc was having sessions with at least half the team. Maybe two-thirds. We kicked ass our first game, and our second too. By the time we slaughtered the other guys in the third game, everyone was sitting up and talking bowl game. We were sure coming out of nowhere and heading for the Top 10, for sure. Coach slammed down a "no talking to the press" rule, ‘cause he didn't want us giving away the secret to our success to the other teams. That just made the press talk more. Nothing got them talking more than a little mystery!
I was going through my days like a sleepwalker. Or a guy with amnesia. There were whole chunks of the past that I just couldn't remember, like what had just happened in the last week. Classes and stuff? I was doing great, better than ever. But I never talked to anybody much. Mostly, my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton or like I was always distracted. I couldn't seem to concentrate except when some professor was talking in class.
All I knew was I had been with Doc that whole week and he had really helped me get some issues out of the way so I could practice and play better. Practice was the only time my head cleared up. Man, I stepped out on the field for drills, and wham!--instant focus-boy. I went through my drills and the practice scrimmages like I could do them in my sleep. Then when we'd head back to the field house, it was like this fog closed in on my head again.
The guys didn't pay much attention to me. They were all kind of pairing off--Scott and Will; Hec and that freshman, Chris; Sean and Coach Bradley. They didn't have time to hang much anymore, and I wasn't clear enough in my head much to really notice.
Doc was holding this party at his house. It was kind of a victory celebration the night after we won our third game of the season. And I mean, we really creamed the other team. The whole team was invited, but just the team--a private thing.
Doc lived on a couple of acres kind of out from town a ways--no neighbors close by. He had this big house--two stories and a basement--with a pool out back. His property had this privacy fence around it, just in case I guess. There was plenty of beer and liquor and snacks and stuff. A barbecue grill fired up with chicken and burgers and kabobs--all sorts of things. Doc sure knew how to lay on a spread.
The guys were high on winning and ready to cut loose, and that's just what they did. Me, my enthusiasm was as cloudy as my head. I went to the party, but I couldn't work up that kind of "hell yeah" attitude.
The pool was a big draw. A lot of guys made a beeline right for it after they got a beer. They were stripping down to shorts or underwear--some of them all the way, too--and jumping right in. Guys were diving in and seeing who could splash the most, trying to dunk one another--lots of cutting up and just guys being guys--all while a lot of them tried not to spill their beers in the water. Doc had this huge-ass projection screen set up down by one end of the pool, and he had yesterday's game playing on it, to the guys' yelling and whistling.
I was one of the few guys in jeans and a tee-shirt. Coach was sitting in a lounge chair beside the pool. Sean sat on the concrete beside him. Both of them had their shirts and shoes off--just shorts--so they were definitely among the minority since most of the guys were down to underwear or skin for swimming.
I couldn't work up the sharpness to go swimming. I already felt like I was swimming through the thickness in my head. I headed into the house. Doc had a stereo blasting rock music in one room--the same music blasting out by the pool--and another TV going in the living room. Three of the guys, passing through, decided to stop and do some channel-surfing to see if there was any sex scenes on the movie channels. They were all fresh from the pool, hair still damp. They sprawled out--Bobby on the couch, Brad and Seth on chairs to either side--and Brad started clicking through. They hit the cartoon channel. This old episode of Scooby Doo.
"Hey, I know this one!" Brad said, scratching his balls through his plaid boxers. "It's the one where they try to catch this ghost clown. Man, I used to love Scooby Doo when I was a kid."
Bobby protested, "Dude! It's a frickin' cartoon. Gimme that remote!"
Brad laughed and held the remote just out of Bobby's reach. "No way, man! I wanna watch."
"Seth, help me get the remote!"
Onscreen, the ghost clown held up a spinning golden coin on little chain and used it to hypnotize one of Scooby's gang, chanting:
"Watch the pretty coin of gold,
And you will do as you are told."
Little sparkles appeared around the coin and around the eyes to show the character had been hypnotized.
Meanwhile, Bobby was bitching, "Oh, come on, Brad! This is so fucking lame."
Onscreen, the clown chanted:
"You will pay attention for a time,
And all your thoughts shall be mine."
"Gimme the remote, Brad," Bobby said. "Let's watch something good. I mean, hypnotizing them to do circus acts? That's so stupid!"
"Yeah," Seth said. The way he was slouched with his knees wide highlighted the lump in the crotch of his snug briefs. "Everyone knows hypnosis isn't real."
"Oh, I beg to differ, gentlemen." This from Doc, entering from behind them. "Hypnosis is very real." He came around the chair. "Mind if I join you, gentlemen?"
"Sure." Bobby slide down on the couch and Doc parked beside him.
"Hypnosis is a very respected tool and very natural--in fact, you've probably been in a state like hypnosis more often than you think."
"Bullshit." This from Bobby, between swallows of beer, as he rearranged his package in his white briefs.
"Let's try an experiment, shall we," Doc said. His back was to me, but I recognized the watch when he brought it out. He turned it so that only Brad, who was sitting to his right, could see it, but Bobby and Seth, to his left, could not.
Brad, looking at it, said, "Are you going to try to hypnotize me?"
"Try?" Doc said, his voice a smooth, low purr. "I already have hypnotized you. Just look at the watch, Brad. Look into the pattern. That's it. Breathe in deeply. That's it. That feeling is a deep, relaxing state of hypnosis coming over you. Sleep now."
Brad's eyes closed and his head drooped forward.
"Holy shit," Bobby said. "It worked. He did it!"
Doc continued, "As you continue to listen to me with your subconscious mind, your conscious mind sleeps deeper and deeper. Let your conscious mind stay deeply asleep, and let your subconscious mind listen to me."
Seth said, "Make him think he's a chicken."
Bobby: "No, make him bark like a dog!"
"Gentlemen, please!" Doc said. "I think"--he turned the watch to face them--"that a little turnabout is fair play, don't you?"
Seth and Bobby stared into the watch.
"Yes, that's it. Gaze deeply into the pattern. So sleepy. Going into a deep, hypnotic sleep. Sleep. Sleep now."
Their expressions slowly faded to slack, eyes shut, heads bowing.
"Good … good. Gentlemen, you will find it so easy to open your eyes now, yet stay deeply asleep. So easy to stand up and follow me, even though you're still deeply in a trance. In fact, each step helps you relax and sleep more deeply. Stand up." They did. Doc walked through a door. "Follow me." And they did, and he shut the door behind them.
I didn't go anywhere. The TV fascinated me. There was something about a TV, or something about something that would be shown on a TV. I wasn't sure what. It had something to do with all the things I couldn't remember/ Every time I tried to concentrate, my thoughts got hazy, indistinct, and they slipped out of my grasp.
After a while, that door opened, and Brad shuffled out, yawning.. "Man," he yawned as he shut the door behind himself, "I just had the best nap. Didn't realize I was so tired."
He walked over to the TV and started going through the cabinet. "Hey, video tapes. C'mere, Martin. Whadda'ya wanna bet some of these are porn?" He popped one of the unlabeled tapes into the VCR and settled out on the floor in front of the TV. "Hope he's got good taste in porn. Have a seat, Martin."
I walked over and sat down on the floor next to him.
The TV filled with the image of a white room. Some kind of blue mat on the floor. A lone guy in a wrestling singlet. College-age. The singlet bore the name of one of the major schools, not ours. The guy seemed distracted, like he wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing. Just standing there, blinking a lot, like he wasn't used to the bright lights.
Doc's voice from off-screen purred, "That's right, Jeremy. You're doing fine." He said something else too, but it was muffled, like he suddenly remembered the microphone and put his hand over it.
Jeremy didn't seem to pay any attention. He tugged at the shoulders of his singlet, pulled them down. He shimmied out of it, out of his jock too. He had a big cock--it was hard too. Doc's voice, still muffled, kept telling him things now and then, but they were too blurred to make out.
Jeremy sprawled out on the mat and started beating off.
"Oh, man!" Brad moaned. "That's--a guy. Doc's got a porno of a guy jerking off!" But he didn't turn the video off right away. In fact, he seemed fascinated by it.
Jeremy didn't take long to cum. After that, the scene changed. Same white room; same mats. This time it was Jeremy and some other guy. They circled each other, then grappled. They fell over onto the mats, struggling for position. Doc's muffled voice now and then. They pulled at one another's singlets like they were really in the way, and pretty soon they're both naked. They weren't really wrestling for the pin. That was obvious when they turned each other head-to-crotch and started blowing each other. This was starting to bring back something, something about what I couldn't remember.
Beside me, Brad moaned. "Oh, man, I'm so fucking horny. So fucking horny, dude."
I looked over at him. He was looking at me. He had his plaid boxers undone, his boner poking straight up through them.
Something in my head said I knew about hard-ons. I knew how to take care of them. I knew what to do. I rolled his way, bent my head, and his cock slid into my mouth.
I didn't care how I knew. I just did as I knew I was supposed to. Brad rasped, "Gonna cum," and then he did, a salty taste exploding in my mouth.
"Thanks, buddy," Brad murmured, yawning again. "Man, I'm … so … wiped …" His eyelids sank and closed.
"That's it, Brad. Sleep." From behind us, Doc's voice. He was standing in the doorway, watching us. "Sleep. See how easy it is to feel good when you do what I say? Now stand up. So easy to open your eyes and stand up while staying deeply asleep." Brad climbed slowly to his feet. "Come here." Brad shuffled over to Doc, who put his arm around him and guided him back into that room.
"Martin," Doc said to me as he was shutting the door. "Turn off the VCR, and don't forget your suggestions. Oh, and I'm expecting guests. When they get here, show them to my study in the back, and tell them I'll be with them shortly."
The door closed, and I reached up to shut the tape off.
Later, when the doorbell rang, I opened the front door. Two men stood there. "Follow me," I said and led them to Doc's study in the rear of the house. "He'll be right with you."
Doc came in right then, and he greeted these two like old friends, which they seemed to be. He seemed to have forgotten about me. Or maybe he was just ignoring me.
"The videos you sent were truly impressive, maybe even better than from that last college. So show us what you have for us this time, Dr. Clay?" one of them said. The stress he put on Doc's name implied he knew Doc by a different name.
"Something special." Doc turned off the overhead lights. He opened the vertical blinds that had shielded the wall of windows. Suddenly they were looking out at the team, still playing around and in the pool out back.
"Well, well," whispered the other one, staring at the naked and semi-naked bodies of my friends.
"That one there, the blond" said the first one, pointing at Sean, who was kneeling next to Coach, who lay on a chaise lounge. "I think I'm in love."
"That one," Doc said, "is a package deal. While an agenda of mine is running its course, he's available only as a part of a pair with the Coach, the man there next to him."
The first one gave this exaggerated pout. "No, I don't think so. The coach is a nice specimen too, but you know I only like them younger." He pointed. "What about that one? The naked black one getting himself a beer."
"Ah, that's Hec. He's certainly exceptional. He's not full service yet, but I'm working on that. He's top action only. His friend Chris, however"--Coach pointed out Chris, who was cannonballing from the end of the diving board--"can provide the bottom element if you're interested. And Chris is one of the youngest, just turned nineteen."
"Hmmm …" The first one appeared to be thinking it over, but he was smiling too big. He'd already decided. "Make it happen."
So I'm standin' there downin' another beer and workin' on this real nice buzz. I just got outta the pool so the breeze is makin' these goose bumps all ov'r my skin. Lotsa guys are naked so it's no big deal, y'know? ‘Sides, they seen it all lotsa times before in the showers. No biggie.
Chris, he's in this divin' contest with a couple other guys, seeing who can make the splash or do the most flips before hittin' the water. Shit like that. Seems like punk kid stuff to me, but he's havin' a ball. His face is all lit up with this ear-to-ear smile that's like mega-volts. Contagious too, ‘cause just lookin' makes me grin ‘n wave back at him.
So Doc walks up to me ‘n says he has this guy who's a fan ‘n wants to meet me, ‘n maybe wants a "special performance" too. I'm all about making my fans happy ‘n I figure I know what kind of "special performance" Doc has in mind. I figure, hey, an ass is an ass, and a mouth is a mouth--‘n as long as I get off, who gives a shit. Right?
Before I could tell Doc sure, he says a couple of words. That's when I feel this … I dunno, like a lightning bolt ran up my spine. It felt damn good, lemme tell ya. My dick got hard in like five seconds.
Doc called Chris ov'r, ‘n he comes trotting ov'r like this big ol' puppy, all grinnin' and shakin' water out of his hair. Doc says a couple of words to Chris, ‘n Chris kind of nods a little, like he's fighting off sleep, ‘n he's all quiet ‘n docile now, ‘n Doc puts his arm around Chris ‘n guides him inside, ‘n I follow them, with my spike leadin' the way.
When Doc comes back, he says to the other one, "So what'll it be for you," like he's discussing the menu at a restaurant.
"I had in mind," the other guy says, "something … extraordinary. Something on a grand scale." He gives Doc this grin, and Doc grins back.
"I think," Doc said, "I know just the ticket." Doc looked at me like he'd just remembered I was there. "Martin, you'd better go out back with your friends. You don't want to miss the fun in a few minutes."
So I did.
The game is still showing on the big screen. Guys are still yelling and drinking and horsing around, blowing off steam and having a blast.
The screen started to flicker. Like someone was flipping channels quickly, but it always came back to the game. I could almost tell what was on those little bits of something in between.
The other guys were noticing too. Some of them were stopping their yelling and running and shit to look at what was happening with the screen.
The flashings were slowing down, and I almost recognized what was in them. Something gold, shiny. I felt like if I just looked a little closer, I could make it out. Around me, most of the noise was dying out as more and more guys were looking at the screen, staring. The intercut pieces were dominating now. Something gold with sharp lines that cut the light. And Doc's voice instead of the announcer, as that something gold was revealed to be his watch, and the lines that intricate pattern, and that drowsy, cooperative feeling coming over me as my head cleared of all distractions and focused on it.
I stared transfixed at the screen. I didn't know what Doc was saying--it was like he was talking to some other part of me. All I knew is--next thing I knew, I was taking off my pants and underwear. The others, the ones that weren't already naked, were stripping too. I had this big ol' raging boner. This guy next to me--I don't even remember who it was ‘cause I'm not looking at his face--had one too and all I'm thinking is I know how to take care of a hard-on, and then I'm on my knees blowing him, and someone is curled up in front of me blowing me too, and all around us are the sounds of guys going at it with each other like rutting bucks. Everything I know condenses down to the cock in my mouth and the mouth on my cock, and that's all I know until salt explodes in my mouth and my world explodes in rapture in someone else's mouth.
I was sitting cross-legged there on the concrete around the pool next to Coach. He was stretched out in a chaise lounge, a beer in one hand, massaging my neck with the other. We had both peeled down to just our shorts. A lot of other guys had stripped down further, to their underwear or nothing at all. Seemed like as the night went on, most of them were getting naked. This was our night to party. The pool was like a magnet, pulled them all in, more and more as the party gained momentum. They were splashing and horsing around and generally cutting loose, which was great. Sometimes they'd try to splash us, but we were just a little too far away for them to get us much wet.
I wasn't in the pool. I was by Coach because that's where I was supposed to be. On the field, he treated me like just another player, but at home--I was kind of living at his house by then--he treated me like the center of his world. He was always a kind, attentive lover. He took good care of me, and I didn't care if he sometimes slipped and called me by his wife's name. I mean, I'd seen her photo and I could see the resemblance.
Anyway, we were there by the pool. The screen had been showing the game, but now it was starting to show something else. Doc's voice was on the speakers instead of the announcer's. Doc's voice licking at my ear.
I looked over at Coach. His hips hovered an inch or two off the chair, and he was slipping his shorts down. His rigid cock slapped up against his belly. His hand pressed the back on my neck, and I bent forward to suck him. He worked his fingers through my hair. After a minute, he whimpered and blew his load in my mouth.
I continued to lick his cock for a minute, just the way he likes it. When I looked up at him, expecting a smile and maybe a kiss, I saw he had fallen asleep.
Around us, guys were fooling around. Some were jacking off, some were jacking each other. Some were sucking or fucking. A few, those who'd already gotten their rocks off, were stretching out and napping.
I stood up and shucked off my shorts. I picked my way over a couple of guys who had also finished and were sound asleep. I was hard, and I wanted to get off.
Bill and Seth, both naked, were standing there, jacking each other off. Bill reached out for me, grinning. I knelt and he swiveled his cock away from Seth's hand and plugged it into my mouth. Bill moaned and groaned like it was his first blow-job ever--he's a young dude, so maybe it was. Pretty soon, he's spurting his juice into my mouth. When I pulled off of Bill, Seth is ready and willing, and I went down on him, swirling my tongue around his cock-head like it's a lollipop. When I started deep-throating him, and I'm good at that, he couldn't hold out, and he came hard.
Seth patted my shoulder. What about me, I was thinking, stroking myself, but Seth was yawning, already fading. Bill was sprawled a yard away in a lawn chair, eyes closed, already deeply asleep. Seth curled up on the grass, leaning against Bill's legs, and he slept.
I looked around. Most of the team was spent by then. There was Doc getting it all on video, which made me grin--he's such a voyeur! I was heading toward this group of four or five guys when I felt someone's hand on my ass. I didn't care who--suddenly, getting fucked was all I wanted right then. I bent over a chair arm, and whoever it was rimmed me, then entered me. I was jacking off, slowly, wanting it to last forever. He knew what he was doing. He hit my sweet-spot up inside me, over and over, and I was seeing stars. I came in these intense spasms right about the time he came too. He pulled me to him and we kissed, but by then both of us were yawning and fighting off sleep, so we lay down on the grass, in each other's arms, and gave in to the slumber washing over us.
I woke up at dawn. I separated myself from one of my teammates who was half-cuddled up against me and stood up. All around me, guys were still sleeping it off. No one else was awake yet, at least not that I could tell. We were all naked--good thing it was a warm night.
I found my underwear and pants, pulled them on. My head seemed clearer than it had been in a long time. Something about what I'd seen last night seemed to be bringing back something I could almost half-remember. Almost, but not quite. That Scooby Doo cartoon with the hypnotic gold coin. That video tape. Doc and his camera. They all went together somehow, but I couldn't make the pieces fit yet in my head.
I picked my way across the sleeping bodies. I went into Doc's house. No sign of anyone awake. I found my tee-shirt and shoes where I'd discarded them the night before when Doc told me to. I put my shoes on but not my tee-shirt. Instead, I went to the TV and found the video tapes in the cabinet under it. I took three cassettes out of their cases--one from the left side of the stack, two from the right. They were all unlabeled, so I was just hoping the ones on the right were more recent. I figured maybe watching them later would help me figure out the rest. I put the cases back so the tapes maybe wouldn't be missed, and I wrapped the videocassettes in my tee-shirt and carried them out to Coach's car--I'd ridden out here to Doc's place with Coach Bradley and Sean. I stashed them under the seat of his car. Then I went back to Doc's house.
I woke up on this bed in Doc's place, with my boy Chris curled up next to me. It was Martin what woke me, movin' ‘round ‘n shit. I got up ‘n stretched. Guess I left my clothes out back, but I din't much care. I got the goods ‘n I don't mind showin' ‘em off. Know what I mean?
I hadta pee like a muthafucker, so I found me a bathroom. Hard to piss with my cock half morning hard, so I had to think ‘bout other shit to let it go down.
I went out back. Musta been early, ‘cause the sun was just over the horizon. Nearly all the guys was out there around the pool. Naked ‘n sacked out all over each other. Musta been one hell of an orgy out there that night, that's all I can say.
I found where I left my tee, shorts, ‘n trainers, ‘n I pulled my shorts on. I'd just got my shirt on too when Chris came shufflin' up. He said good morning ‘n gave me this puppy-dog devoted smile, ‘n I knew he was rememberin' how great my cock made him feel that night. I gave him a kiss--just a little one ‘cause I'm not a fag.
Chris pulled on his jeans ‘n I was getting my trainers on ‘n tied the way I like ‘em. Doc came up from in back of me, ‘n he patted me on the shoulder.
"Great job, last night," he said. He was looking me right in the eye, ‘n I was lookin' right back, ‘n this feelin' started stealin' over me. Same feelin' I get ev'ry time I look Doc in the eye. Like I'm floating sorta. Feelin' great all over, inside ‘n out. Like I wanna be naked, ‘n my cock risin' again, needin' some attention. Like I'm invincible ‘n open at the same time. Like he's lookin' right into me, ‘n I like it. Same feelin' I get sometimes when I'm startin' ta drift into sleep at night.
Doc pushes sumthin' into the pocket of my shorts. He pats my shoulder again ‘n moves on to Chris. I feel that feelin' a while after Doc walks off. Then I kinda snap out of it. I check out what he put in my pocket, ‘n it's some money. Like three times what he usually slips me, and lemme tell you that's a lot of jing. I'm like, Fuck!
Chris is still standin' there. Feelin' the same thing I was feelin', I guess. I'm so glad he's my boy, ‘n I pull him to me ‘n kiss him for real, real deep ‘n long, just the way he likes it, the way that tells him he belongs to me. He gets into it too, ‘n I feel his body melt against mine. I reach into the pocket of his jeans ‘n pull out the money Doc gave him. It's a lot too--not quite as much as Doc gave me, but more'n he usually gives Chris. I put his stash in my pocket too. Chris don't give a fuck. He's lookin' at me like he's totally wasted in love. I'm thinkin', yeah, that's the way it's supposed to be.
Things started coming apart when Hec started spending all that money. It attracted a lot of attention, you know?
The team could have ridden that out, though. Things like that happen all the time, and there's always an explanation other than college athletes getting unethical gifts that jeopardize their amateur status. But then things really fell apart for me, and it was all going to hell in a great, big handbasket.
Things fell apart for me about a week after they started the investigation into where Hec was getting all that money he spent on that new sportscar and the fancy threads. Hec was saying he had a part-time job doing some modeling. He's a good-looking guy, so that maybe was plausible, but he couldn't produce any of the payment paperwork or receipts they wanted and wouldn't say who he modeled for.
But that's neither here nor there. For me, the kicker happened right in my own home. It was kind of a late morning for us and we were sleeping in. Sean and me.
I don't know why I took up with Sean. Maybe part of it was for helping me get sober after my wife left me. Maybe, but part of it was something else. Sometimes, it was like I'd look at him, and I'd see her. My wife. It went beyond just seeing a facial resemblance and them having the same color hair. It was like I'd look at him and I'd think he was her, and all the love I felt for her I'd feel for him too. Don't ask me why.
Anyway, we'd been up late the night before. I'd gotten horny as fuck and maybe a little drunk too, and Sean and I had been kissing. We came back here to the bedroom and took our clothes off and we started fooling around. Before I started fooling around with Sean and some of the other guys on the team, I hadn't done anything with another guy since high school or maybe college--you know, that fooling-around thing guys do together when they're experimenting or just horny sometimes. Nothing serious.
But it was different with Sean. I guess somewhere deep inside I knew what I was doing. But I'd look at him and I'd see her, and all that love I'd been bottling up inside would come rushing out, and I'd have to say I loved him--I mean, her. And we'd have to kiss and sometimes go further.
We came to the bedroom and took off our clothes, and Sean gave me this sweet, sweet blow-job--he gives the best head, the kind she was always too good to give. I licked on his cock too and sucked it a little, just to be fair. Mostly I worked on his ass with my fingers, and he let me. His ass warmed up faster than her cunt ever did--I guess he liked sex more--and getting him lubed up and open was pretty easy. See, she would sometimes submit to sex, but he always threw himself into it.
Sean liked to have me inside him. He liked it when I'd fit my cock inside him and we'd move together like we were one body. He really liked it when we'd come together, me cumming inside him. Like my spunk in his ass made us part of each other. I liked the way his ass gripped my cock tighter than her pussy ever did, the way his ass met me stroke for stroke like a mouth, not just sitting there like a bowl of lukewarm oatmeal.
We did it doggy-style. It's my favorite position, though she never liked it that way. She said it wasn't "intimate," whatever that means. I was jacking Sean in time with my strokes in his ass, and he started to cum. That made his ass clamp down around my rod, and it pulled my orgasm right out of me, and I came hard in his ass. We collapsed on the bed, me on top of him with my cock still in his ass as it started to go soft. I kissed his neck and stroked his hair and shoulder, and we fell asleep that way.
So the next morning, I'm still in bed, and there she is, standing in the doorway with her suitcase in her hand. Says she's come back to try to work things out.
I'm looking at her and looking at Sean. It's amazing--I look at her and see her, then I look at Sean and I see him but I also see her kind of superimposed over him too.
That's when she realized that, first off, I'm not alone in bed, and she starts going off on how could I cheat on her like that and in our own home? Never mind that she walked out of "our own home" on me, right? Then Sean rolls over and looks up at her, and she sees I'm not in bed with some woman. I'm in bed with a guy, and one of my team at that.
Man, does she go ballistic! She screams a whole bunch of shit about me being a fucking faggot and she doesn't stick around long. Last thing I hear out of her as she's walking out the front door, a second before the front door slams shut, is she wants a divorce and I'll be hearing from her lawyer.
Of course, the university found out about that. She filed for a divorce, all right. Plus, she talked to the newspapers. All about how she, the devoted wife, walked in on me, the cheating S.O.B., in bed with a guy who was one of the stars of the football team, and about how she was divorcing me because she couldn't stand to be married to a fucking queer.
Then--and I don't know how the fuck it happened or where she got them--she was on the evening news with this "exclusive exposé." They showed a video tape that showed me having sex with two or three guys who were, in their words, "rumored to be members of the university football team." The station blocked out the guys' faces and their privates, to protect their reputations and the audience's feelings about the team, but it was obviously the team locker room--you could see this big picture of the college mascot painted on the wall in the background. The station left my face visible, and it was obviously me.
I was surprised how little her shit affected me personally. Maybe Doc had something to do with how easy it was for me to blow it off as more of her hateful shit. Career-wise was whole other issue, though. In spite of our winning record, in spite of the buzz in all the papers and magazines about us heading for a bowl game, the administration suspended me. Immediately. Officially, they were conducting an "investigation" into the "allegations." Unofficially, my career at the school was over. Because, even though none of the team would talk or tell them what everyone on the team knew, the kind of stink my wife was making was the kind that stays with you forever, and the school wanted to avoid controversy and keep the alumni in a giving mood.
So they officially suspended me for the duration of the investigation and unofficially offered to buy me out of the rest of my contract. I saw the writing on the wall. Doc and I talked about it, and we agreed we had to do what was best for the team. So I let them buy me out. I resigned and agreed to keep quiet, and they gave me a nice cash settlement and agreed to hush it all up from their side and to give me a good recommendation. They did too. Maybe Doc saw to it that they kept their part of the bargain.
Doc fixed it. He got to them all, somehow. I know he and Coach talked. Next thing I know, Coach is resigning--"for the good of the team," he says. Right away, the administration puts the assistant coach in charge as interim coach, and Doc is assigned to do "counseling" to help us handle the "emotional stress." That's like putting the fox in charge of the chickens, if you ask me. Ha ha!
Doc said he was going to have a talk with Coach's wife, and a day or two later she's withdrawing her divorce suit, and she and Coach are back to living together. The whole mess disappeared from the media pretty quickly after that. She retracted her statements and claimed she was misled by a faked video, which was what the administration was saying too. I don't know how Doc did it. All I know is, the story faded out real quick because neither she nor the administration was talking about it. The public got tired of hearing about the same old shit, plus we continued having a great season, so it died fast.
I was out of the picture as far as Coach is concerned. Doc told me I shouldn't see him any more. Which was okay. I was starting to feel what I'd felt for Coach fade. It was like a switch was flipped inside me. One day I'm in love with him, and the next I'm feeling not as in love, and the next even less.
It was Martin who gave her the tapes. He admitted it when Doc questioned him. They had a big argument in Coach's office--former office, I should say. Doc accused him of stealing private property and staging some kind of "war"--Doc's words--and being plain vindictive and not caring who got hurt. Martin accused Doc of all kinds of unethical shit, like kidnapping him and brainwashing him during that week he disappeared. The walls of the office are just cheap cinderblock, so we heard everything. The assistant coach--well, he was the head coach now--threw Martin off the team for being a troublemaker, which meant the end of his scholarship, and Martin withdrew from school a couple of days later. I don't know what happened to him. When I asked Doc, he said he had helped Martin realize his true calling, like Martin had joined the army or something; then Doc laughed like it was a big joke.
The investigation into Hec went on a while longer. Doc and Hec had a talk with the investigator. I don't know what the official story was, but off the record, they convinced him the reason Hec couldn't produce payroll records for his modeling was because he'd been starring in porno tapes. Coach Bradley had made him do it or else he'd jeopardize Hec's scholarship. Yeah, whatever. I didn't believe it, but that was the unofficial story. With Coach Bradley gone, Hec wasn't doing it anymore--blah, blah, blah. I guess because Hec is black and depended on his scholarship to stay in school, the investigator believed it. Doc and Hec even came up with a straight porn flick that Hec had starred in--I didn't know anything about that, but apparently it was a nice side-career for him. Plus, the investigator couldn't find any evidence of inappropriate "gifts" or alumni involvement, so the case was closed.
We--the team, that is--did pretty damn well, and we made it to one of the minor bowl games. We had a great season.
Doc moved on after that year. Said it was time for him to be moving on and he was going to another position where there wasn't this shadow of controversy and bad reputation hanging over everything. Hec transferred with him; Chris too. I understand Hec really does have a career in porn these days.
That was a year ago. I hear from Doc every now and then. He calls, and I feel great for days afterward. I'm not going to say where he's gone. When I graduate at the end of this term, I'm going to the same place. He's pulled some strings and gotten them to offer me a good position as an assistant coach. I can't wait to see him again. Together, we'll turn those boys into winners.