Pec-hypnosis stories please

I really like stories where guys are hypnotized by some dancing or flexed pecs but its like a needle in a haystack to find. So if you have any could you give me some hypno pecs stories.


Did you try using the search with #pecs as the tag?


You’ve probably already encountered this story, but I like this one. Not exactly traditional hypnosis but very pec-centered. 'Big Ol' Pecs' by S. Q. Neemie - Gay Spiral Stories


Yes but usually its just stories of people who like pecs or a transformation story where pecs are the main sezualized parts

1 Like

Here’s one:

1 Like

Not fully centered on pecs but 'Hey Mikey!' by Darr Fall - Gay Spiral Stories


Also i couldnt help but think about this manupfilms video: Mateo Muscle & Masyn Thorne - Gay BDSM-Fetish Porn - Man Up Films

1 Like

This is the first thing that came to mind when I read the question. Fantastic story!

Never read a pec-hypnosis story, but your question got me thinking so I jotted down some naughty thoughts. This story got legs, you think? :wink:

Shiny Tits

I like to think that God took mercy on the world when he made my twin brother, Jorge, and me. Jorge was a true genius - a real brilliant scientist - but had no practical sense. The guy could ace any test and devise any solution to your problems that could be built or cooked up in a lab. But a Nigerian prince in an email could trick him into emptying his bank account.

Fortunately, I’m the opposite. I could get my sums wrong, with a calculator, but I had loads of practical sense and people knowledge. That’s where God’s mercy comes in – if he’d made Jorge me and one person, the world would have a new supervillain.

Jorge told me everything that went on with his life, knowing that I was the one person in the world who wouldn’t take advantage of him and who could apply the info best. So when he told me one day – complaining, really – about the troubles his employer, DuPont Labs, was having perfecting a new automotive overcoat that would preserve its shine while emitting no volatile organic compounds, I listened with half an ear.

“The shine is too much. It stuns people. Leaves them stupefied,” he said.

That piqued my interest. Stupefaction sounded like “stupid,” and stupid meant money. “How stupefied?”

“Without protective glasses, a mere panel can leave you insensate – practically, drooling.”

Drool was bad. Hard to get money out of drool. “Could you reduce the effect?”

Jorge thought for a quick minute. “By reducing the surface area, sure – but even a small spot would be too distracting for automotive use. People would crash their cars!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, mind already racing. “Bring me some, will ya?”

Jorge would give me his kidney (and I for him) without a second thought so a little light theft from his employer was not a problem.

I then asked him to calculate the minimum surface area to render someone partially stupefied, open to suggestion.
He calculated that anywhere from a dime to a quarter should be enough.

Then he added – God, I love my brother: ”But if you wanted to induce a trance state, a strobe application would be most effective.”

“Strobe? How so?”

“To be responsive to suggestion, the brain needs rest, a break from the focal object.”

“How do I do that?”

Jorge shrugged. “Interrupt the focus at irregular intervals. At the moment of interruption, the brain will be most susceptible.”

“I love you, bro!”

Then it was just a matter of putting it into practice.

The hustle is life, so I run a small number of restaurants and bars in the city – the bars catering to my fellow gays. And bachelorettes. Always, the bachelorettes…

And, standard practice, my bartenders were all hot guys wearing slutty tanks emblazoned with the bar logo.

For testing, I decided to try a slow night and an even slower employee – Dwight, my “bouncer.” Dwight was stacked – big everything, but big round muscle tits that didn’t need any lab product to make you want to drool.

Ideally, Dwight would’ve been at bar, but the boy was too dumb to meet even the low drink mixing standards that role required – to say nothing of handling cash competently.

But the boy was too dumb to handle his own money well and to appreciate that sexual harassment was a crime, so I had to find a job for him.

So I made him one of my bouncers, though I doubt the lughead would be good for anything in an actual fight. Show muscles.

But that night I told Dwight he was on bar duty.

Before letting him start, I pulled him into the backroom and, protective shades on, took out the paint.

I pinched the center of his tank so I could clearly see both mounds. At first, I feared that his big jugs might be too hairy to be effective. But on closer inspection, my concerns eased.
His thick eraser nipples clearly protruded through the chest hair. And who knew? Maybe the dark fur would make for a more effective contrast!

Wasting no more time, I applied some paint to my fingers and twirled them around his titties. They helpfully thickened under my ministrations so I was able to get the full nipple surface area.

I’d made up this whole story in advance about sexy, decorative body paint, but I’d forgot wo I was dealing with. Dwight just stood there helpfully.

He had to blow me to swap a shift, so he probably thought he was getting off easy.

Truly, if he could handle cash without being swindled, he’d be the perfect worker.

Finished, I stepped back – and, Jesus Christ, that paint was bright! Even through my protective shades, and even in the dim bar lighting, his nips were bright, like they were reflecting every scrap of light in the room.

“Flex your chest,” I said – then watching the bright spots move. Damn, it was hard to take your eyes off them.

I also like to think that I was correct about the effect of the contrast with his dark fur. I was glad for that, would’ve been hard to quickly find another boy with Dwight’s particular combination of qualities – or make him shave. That would’ve been a damn shame.

So now all that was left was to take his tits out for a spin.

I covered them back up and stationed him at the far end of the bar – the slowest, least popular area.

I put Dwight in position, who immediately started moving with the music, and I stood next to him, wiping a glass like I was in some old-timey saloon or something.

And our first test was perfect. One of the regulars. Not bad looking but a sad sack sort, whose name I could never bother to remember.

What I did remember is that he rarely bought more than one drink. He’d just nurse his one drink and stare.

Always annoyed the shit out of me – did he not care how much it cost to have the quality of tits, abs and ass I had on offer?

So this guy – clearly already a member of the Dwight Fan Club – sits down near us, old drink already in hand.

So I tug on Dwight’s tank ‘til both cupcakes pop out, and this guy is instantly transfixed. I tell Dwight to flex and the guy, his mouth slightly agape, eyes just following the shiny nips up and down, up and down.

I reach over and tweak one of Dwight’s nips, which makes him giggle. But the effect of my fingers over one of the nips is visible.
The customer blinks, then looks at the still-exposed tit – but it’s clear that he’s still looking at the covered tit, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“A drink, friend?” I ask.

Half-lucid, he mutters an affirmative, the agrees to my expensive suggestion.

I pour the drink and hand it to him, but he has both tits to look at now and is back to staring, moving his eyes with Dwight. Dwight’s not even flexing, just breathing, and I could measure Dwight’s breathing rate just by following the rise and dip of the customer’s eyes.

I cover up Dwight’s pecs with the tank and the customer comes to, kinda. He sees his drink in front of him, looks at me quizzically, then tosses that shit back!

I, of course, play peek-a-tit again and get him to buy another drink.

So I had my proof, and after I got another tit-struck schlub to buy a round of drinks for a group, I felt I had definitive proof.

As I said at the start, I got all the business and people acumen, and so by the end of the night I realized that this paint must have more potential than shoving a few extra drinks on losers.

More money potential, definitely.
But more potential to get my dick wet?
Because some things are worth more than money.


Thats actually really good!
I would love to see more of it if you ever make a series

1 Like

Thanks - I fleshed it out a little more and posted it. Hope ya like!


'Daddies Next Door' by Twan Andersen - Gay Kinky Stories is one of the hottest stories I’ve ever read, and part 3 has some pec hypnosis, although brief.

A couple other gems from Twan Andersen that has to do with pecs: and


‘A Wager’ by z119z has a great scene. It’s a really fanastic story! 'A Wager' by z119z - Gay Kinky Stories