This isn’t really a proper story prompt, but I always liked the idea that, in a world where there are whole bunch of gay mind controllers, one of the older ones takes someone younger to mentor and guide.
Like, an established mind controller with a large harem who’s lived a long, amazing life, decides to bestow the knowledge upon a younger gay guy who just discovered his hypnosis. Maybe the younger guy was in the closet and he just turned 18. He doesn’t really have any clue what to do with it except make his old bullies give him really crappy blowjobs.
So the older guy shows him the ropes, shows him how to teach a straight guy to pleasure men, shows him how to completely empty a guy’s mind and fill it with gym workouts and oral techniques. Just the passing down of tradition.
There’s a straight story that does this really well called The Bimbo Merchant, in which a guy named Harold (who makes money by converting people’s spouses into willing sex slaves) finds a young inexperienced mind controller named Derek in the town he moved to. Harold decides to train him, first displaying his power to the Derek by temporarily converting an entire coffee shop into a sex party.
Here’s an excerpt of what I’m sort of talking about, edited to be gay by me:
Derek: Part 4
Today I met with Derek.
He tried to dress up. Who knows what he felt this was about. From the collared shirt and the borrowed sportscoat my guess he thought this was some sort of initiation rite. He was being tapped for Order of the Arrow, that kind of thing. At least, he wasn’t that nervous.
We were at a coffee shop, of course.
“So… hi,” he said. He extended a hand. “Derek.” Yeah, no shit.
“I know,” I said. I didn’t mean anything by it, but his eyes got wide. Well, of course I knew his name. You don’t need to be a mind controller. Some light reconnaissance would be enough.
I had thought about my approach and decided to go with deliberately casual. “I just moved into town, saw one of your guys walking around.”
“Which one?” he asked. Derek did not offer to buy me a cup of coffee, which lost him Harold-points.
“Tan skin… huge ass… Cartoon muscles…” no glimmer. “I guess I’m not narrowing it down.”
“Probably Mr. Evans,” he smirked. “He was my middle school history teacher.”
For me it was english. “How many guys have you done?” I asked, suddenly concerned. He looked away, so I took the answer from the top of his head. He had no idea how to stop me. “Twenty-three? Ah man. That’s too many.” I reconsidered killing him. Twenty-three. What an idiot. Twenty-three sexed-up muscleheads wandering around. Did he think no one would notice?
“Well, just five are permanent,” he argued, suddenly afraid. I can be scary when I want to be. The conversation had taken a turn he didn’t expect. “The rest are on triggers? When I say…”
“Yeah, Kaleidoscopic is not a great trigger,” I told him. “They should be two, three words.” His lower lip quivered. I relented. He was only eighteen, he didn’t know anything. “Well, since we’re in the same town I thought I could teach you a thing or two.”
“I think I know what I’m doing…” he mumbled.
“Excuse me, sir?” a tall ginger interrupted us. His tousled hair and toned muscles gave him a relaxed but rugged look. A shirt with three buttons undone that was a size too small showcased his lean muscular body nicely. He laughed. “I’m so sorry. Apparently they’re out of cream and… can I?”
“Sure,” I told him, affably. I scooted my chair aside a smidge, and he knelt between my legs and started to pull out my dick.
Derek was motionless.
“Not hard at all,” I assured him. I looked down. The redhead had it free and was working the shaft with long fingers. The rest of the coffee shop buzzed around us.
It gradually dawned on Derek that it was filling up with attractive young men, and not a single woman.
“So… can I get you a cup of coffee?” the rookie asked, properly humbled.
I grunted, and unloaded a shot onto the ginger’s face. He smiled and licked at it, letting the remainder fall into his cup o‘ joe. “Thanks, man, that’s perfect,” he said, dripping with sperm.
A built and buff black guy with a red headband approached. “I’m fresh out,” I explained, “but I think the kid can help.”
He got on his knees and waited.