The mansion’s gym pulsed with the rhythmic clank of weights, the air thick with sweat and the low thump of a bass-heavy track. Neil pushed through the glass doors, his boots scuffing the hardwood, the circlet tucked under his arm like a loaded weapon.

Inside, Brandon was mid-set, his massive frame dominating a squat rack, muscles bulging under a black tank top, veins popping across his forearms. The guy was a beast—biceps like cannonballs, chest a fortress, thighs thick as oaks—fresh off his contract signing and radiating power. But he wasn’t alone. Two new faces caught Neil’s eye, and his gut tightened. A young blonde bodybuilder, cocky as hell, was curling dumbbells in front of the mirror, his tight white tank showing off a chiseled physique—broad shoulders, ripped abs, quads straining his shorts. The other, a leaner guy with dark hair, was spotting him, his movements hesitant, eyes darting nervously. Fans, maybe, but strangers in his house set Neil’s teeth on edge.

“Oi, Bran,” Neil called, stepping closer, his voice cutting through the music. “Who’re these blokes?”

Brandon racked the bar, wiping sweat from his brow with a grin. “Mate, meet Christian and Jason. Fans from the Lust Island meet-and-greet. Both are bodybuilders, they want tips to break into the scene. Jason’s a bit shy, but good kid. Thought I’d bring ‘em over, give ‘em a boost.” He clapped Christian’s shoulder, the blonde nodding with a smug smirk, then gestured to Jason, who ducked his head, cheeks flushing.

Neil’s eyes narrowed, scanning them. Christian’s posture screamed arrogance—chest puffed, jaw set, hazel eyes glinting with challenge. Jason was the opposite—slight build, fidgeting hands, brown eyes fixed on the floor, radiating unease. Fans or not, they were loose ends in his kingdom. “They safe, mate?” Neil asked, voice low, holding Brandon’s gaze. “Trustworthy? We’ve got… sensitive shit here.” He patted the circlet, its silver glinting under the gym’s fluorescents.

Brandon chuckled, folding his arms, biceps flexing. “Solid, mate. Christian’s a bit of a prick, but he’s got drive. Jason’s harmless—barely talks. They’re just here for a workout, not digging for dirt.”

Neil wasn’t convinced. He’d tamed the street, bound Chloe and Amelia, crowned Denise, but new blood meant risk. He twirled the circlet, his grin sharpening. “Alright, let’s make sure. Jason, c’mere.” He beckoned, voice smooth but commanding.

Jason shuffled forward, head down, and Neil stepped close, holding the circlet up. “Just a little game, yeah? Try this on—shows us you’re one of us.”

“I-I don’t know,” Jason stammered, but Neil’s grin didn’t waver, his eyes locking on Jason’s, exuding authority. Before Jason could back out, Neil slid the circlet onto his head, the metal settling with a faint hum. The shift was instant—Jason’s knees buckled, hitting the gym floor with a soft thud, his brown eyes glazing over with blissful submission. His cock stirred in his shorts, a faint tent forming, his breath hitching as the circlet drowned his shyness in adoration. Neil and Brandon loomed above him, heroes carved from legend, their presence overwhelming.

“You guys… you’re my heroes,” Jason stammered, his voice thick with fervent emotion, cracking slightly. “I’ll do anything for you. Please, let me prove my loyalty!” His usual shyness was obliterated, replaced by a pathetic, almost worshipful need to please. His hands clasped together, as if in prayer, his gaze locked on Neil and Brandon with shining, adoring eyes.

Neil exchanged a glance with Brandon, who raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, clearly amused by the display. Neil crouched slightly, meeting Jason’s fervent gaze. “Alright, Jason. First rule: you keep everything you see or hear in this house a secret. Not a word to anyone, ever. Understand? Now, tell me about yourself.”

Jason nodded so vigorously his head bobbed like a puppet’s, his voice eager. “Yes, sir! I’m just a guy who loves the gym, lifting’s my life. I’m straight, but… I’m into Chloe. Like, really into her. She’s so confident, so beautiful. People make me nervous, always have, but I’ll work hard for you. I want to make you proud, Neil, Brandon. Anything you need, I’m your guy!” His words spilled out, raw and unfiltered, his entire being focused on earning their approval, his earlier anxiety replaced by fervent devotion.

Christian burst out laughing, his voice sharp and mocking. “Fucking hell, Jason, you’re such a pussy! Drooling over some bimbo’s rack while you’re groveling? Pathetic.” He flexed in the mirror, smirking, his blonde hair catching the light, his physique a taunting contrast to Jason’s submission.

Neil’s eyes flicked to Christian, his grin turning predatory. “Oi, blondie, you’re next. Step up or get out.”

Christian’s smirk faltered, but he recovered quickly, puffing out his chest, his pecs flexing under his tight tank top. “No way, man. I’m not putting on your creepy-ass headband. What is this, some Dungeons and Dragons nerd crap?” His laugh was sharp, but there was a nervous edge to it, his eyes flickering to the circlet with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Neil didn’t hesitate. He lifted the circlet from Jason’s head—Jason blinked, dazed, scrambling to his feet, mumbling apologies—and slid it onto Christian’s. The moment the metal touched his scalp, Christian’s smirk froze, his hazel eyes widening as a jolt ripped through him. His body tensed, muscles flexing involuntarily, his cock surging to life, straining hard against his tight shorts, a visible ridge that pulsed with sudden need. The gym’s air seemed to thicken around him, Neil and Brandon towering as gods of power, their presence a magnet for his newfound devotion. The circlet’s whispers—submit, serve, excel—ignited a fire in his chest, a competitive blaze that burned away his arrogance, replacing it with an all-consuming drive to outshine everyone.

Christian’s knees hit the floor, a sharp thud echoing, but his posture wasn’t meek. He knelt tall, chest puffed, abs tight, his erection throbbing as he locked eyes with Neil, then Brandon, his voice low and fervent. “Masters,” he growled, the word laced with hunger, “I’ll serve you better than anyone—better than your fucking bimbos, better than this simp.” He jerked his head at Jason, disdain flickering, then leaned forward, hands braced on his thighs, muscles rippling. “I’ll suck you off—either of you—blow your fucking minds. No one’s got my drive, my skill. Try me—I’ll prove I’m the best you’ll ever have.”

His transition was electric, a storm of raw energy. The circlet didn’t just subdue him; it unleashed him, his cocky pride twisting into a desperate need to dominate submission itself. His hazel eyes burned with competitive fire, pupils dilated, sweat beading on his brow as his body responded—nipples hard under his tank, quads trembling, his cock leaking precum, staining his shorts. Every muscle seemed to pulse with his vow, his physique a testament to his resolve: broad shoulders squared, biceps twitching, abs carved tighter as he breathed hard, ready to outperform any rival. The circlet amplified his drive, turning his arrogance into a weapon, his erection a badge of his commitment to serve, to win. He licked his lips, gaze darting to Brandon’s crotch, then Neil’s, a hungry edge to his smirk, daring them to test him.

Neil chuckled, stepping back, twirling the circlet’s empty slot in his hand. “Fuck, mate, you’re intense. Bran, you up for it? Blondie’s begging to blow you.”

Brandon’s grin faltered, his hazel eyes flicking to Neil with a knowing glint. “Nah, mate, I’m good,” he said, voice casual but pointed, folding his arms to emphasize his bulk. “Got enough… resets lately, yeah? Don’t need another.” The veiled jab hung in the air, a nod to their gym sessions—Neil under the circlet, lips around Brandon’s cock, memories erased but pleasure lingering. Neil’s jaw twitched, the faint ache flaring, but he brushed it off, his grin holding.

“Fair play,” Neil said, turning to Christian, who still knelt, vibrating with need. “Alright, blondie, here’s the deal. Anything that happens here—circlet, us, the girls—stays secret. Swear it, and tell me about yourself. What’s your story?”

Christian’s eyes locked on Neil, fierce and unwavering, the circlet’s haze sharpening his truth. “I swear, master—my lips are sealed. No one hears a fucking word.” His voice dropped, raw and honest. “I’m Christian, 23, bodybuilding’s my life. Competed regionally, aiming for pro. Cocky, yeah, ‘cause I’m good—work hard, play harder. And I’m gay. Been eyeing Brandon since I saw him on Lust Island—those muscles, that fucking ass, fuck, he’s a god. Want him bad, but I’ll serve you too, master, any way you want.” His cock twitched visibly, his desire bare, the circlet stripping his bravado to pure need.

Neil nodded, satisfied, and lifted the circlet off Christian’s head. The haze faded, but Christian stayed kneeling, blinking, his erection softening but his competitive edge returning, a smirk tugging his lips. “Well, shit,” he muttered, standing, adjusting his shorts. “That was… wild. I’m in, though—your call, mate.”

Neil clapped his shoulder, turning to Jason, who hovered awkwardly, face red. “Alright, Jason, mate, you’re shy as fuck, and I’m feeling generous. Let’s boost that confidence.” He jerked his head toward the pool deck, where the hot tub bubbled under the morning sun. “Chloe’s out there. I’ll get her to give you a treat—hot tub session, just you and her. Sound good?”

Jason’s eyes widened, his voice a squeak. “Chloe? F-for real?” He swallowed hard, nodding fast. “Yeah, uh, thanks, Neil.”

Neil smirked, leading him out, leaving Brandon and Christian in the gym. The glass doors slid open, and Chloe lounged by the hot tub, her red bikini barely containing her massive tits, jet-black hair spilling over her shoulders. She glanced up, smirking, her hypnotic power dormant but her presence electric. “Oi, Neil, what’s this?” she teased, eyeing Jason’s nervous shuffle.

“Chloe, meet Jason,” Neil said, voice smooth. “Fan of yours. Be a good girl—take him for a dip in the hot tub. Give him a treat, yeah? Make it memorable.” He winked, his tone a command wrapped in charm, and Chloe’s smirk widened, her eyes flicking to Jason’s blushing face.

“Alright, stud,” she purred, standing, her tits bouncing as she sauntered to the hot tub, hips swaying. “C’mon, Jason, let’s have some fun.” She slid into the steaming water, beckoning him, and Jason stammered, peeling off his shirt, his lean frame trembling as he followed, eyes glued to her chest.

Neil watched for a moment, satisfied, then headed back inside, the circlet under his arm. Chloe would handle Jason, he would pick up a drink and go back to the gym.

Back inside the gym, “Mate, what’s the deal with that circlet?” Christian asked, leaning against a rack, his blonde hair mussed, hazel eyes narrowing. “Felt like it rewired my fucking brain—had me begging to suck you off. You use that thing a lot? What’s it do to you when you wear it?”

Brandon’s grin was tight, his bulk shifting as he grabbed a towel, wiping sweat. “Easy, mate. It’s Neil’s—makes you… cooperative, yeah?” He dodged the question, his tone casual but guarded, the memory of Neil’s lips on his cock under the circlet flashing through his mind. He’d kept it secret, commanded Neil to forget, but Christian’s probing hit a nerve. “You’re here to lift, not play detective. Wanna spot me on deadlifts?”

The gym’s air hung heavy with sweat and iron, the clank of weights fading as Brandon racked his deadlift bar. Christian lingered nearby, his hazel eyes sharp, tracking Brandon’s every move—those massive quads flexing, biceps bulging under his black tank, ass tight in his shorts. The circlet’s earlier grip still buzzed in Christian’s veins, its power a drug he couldn’t shake. Neil had left for the pool deck, Jason trailing like a lost puppy, leaving the gym to just the two of them. Christian’s smirk curled, his competitive fire flaring. He spotted the circlet resting on a bench, its silver glinting under the fluorescents, unguarded. Opportunity knocked.

While Brandon was distracted he sneaked the circlet from its resting spot, and slowly snook up and placed it on Brandon’s head as he reached the height of his lift. The effect was instant. Brandon’s body stiffened, his breath hitching as the circlet hummed, its power flooding his mind. His hazel eyes glazed, pupils dilating, a blissful haze softening his chiseled features. His cock stirred in his shorts, a faint bulge forming, his massive frame relaxing into submission. Christian loomed before him, no longer just a cocky fan but a great guy—a mate Brandon needed to please, to serve, to impress. The gym’s walls seemed to pulse with Christian’s presence, his voice a beacon in the haze.

“Fuck, mate” Brandon slurred, his deep voice warm with awe, a dopey grin spreading. “What’s up? Wanna lift? Or… something else?” His eyes flicked to Christian’s physique—broad shoulders, ripped abs—admiration mixing with a hungry edge, the circlet twisting his loyalty.

Christian’s grin sharpened, predatory. “Oh, we’re doing something else, champ. Strip off. Everything. Let’s see that god-tier body.” His voice was smooth, commanding, his hazel eyes locked on Brandon’s, daring him to obey.

Brandon didn’t hesitate. His hands moved like they were on strings, yanking his tank over his head, revealing a fortress of muscle—pecs slabbed, abs carved, shoulders like boulders. He kicked off his sneakers, socks next, then hooked his thumbs into his shorts and briefs, shoving them down in one go. His cock sprang free, half-hard, thick and veined, bouncing as he stepped out of the fabric, standing stark naked in the gym’s harsh light. His 6’2” frame was a masterpiece—thighs like oaks, calves chiseled, ass round and firm, every muscle glistening with sweat, his erection swelling under Christian’s gaze. The circlet gleamed on his head, his hazel eyes fixed on Christian, eager for his new mate’s approval.

“Fucking hell,” Christian muttered, stepping closer, his own cock twitching in his shorts. He circled Brandon, eyes devouring every inch—those massive biceps, the V of his lats, the heavy swing of his dick. “You’re a beast, mate. Flex for me.” Brandon obeyed, raising his arms into a double biceps pose, muscles popping, veins snaking across his forearms. Christian’s hands followed, worshipping, tracing the hard ridges of Brandon’s pecs, squeezing his delts, gliding down his abs. “Goddamn, you’re unreal,” he growled, his fingers lingering on Brandon’s quads, inches from his cock, now fully hard, leaking precum.

Brandon’s grin widened, his voice thick with pride and haze. “Cheers, mate. You’re a top bloke—love showing off for ya.” He flexed harder, his cock bobbing, the circlet’s spell making Christian’s praise a drug.

Christian knelt, his face level with Brandon’s abs, hands gripping his thighs, feeling their power. “Alright, champ, spill it. Tell me everything about that circlet. What’s the deal? Who’s using it, how’s it work?” His voice was low, urgent, his fingers digging into Brandon’s muscle, his own erection straining his shorts as he worshipped the giant before him.

Brandon’s eyes flickered, the circlet loosening his tongue, his need to please Christian overriding all else. “Mate, it’s… wild,” he started, voice earnest, hands still flexed. “Chloe showed up first, yeah? Months back. Her tits, felt like my brain melted—couldn’t think, just wanted to please her. Still do, sometimes, when she flashes ‘em.”. She made me wear the circlet, said it’d make me better. Wanted to do anything she said. Then Neil moved in, took over. He’s obsessed with it–secretly loves wearing it, loves the rush. Uses it to boost my body, too—pumps me up, makes me bigger, stronger.”

Christian’s eyes widened, his hands pausing on Brandon’s abs, cock throbbing at the thought of such power over men. “Hypno tits? For real? Fuck. Keep going.”

Brandon nodded, his cock fully hard now, bobbing as he shifted, Christian’s touch and the circlet’s haze driving him wild. “Yeah, real. After that, Neil moved in. He took over, got his hands on the circlet. Used it to boost my body—said it could ‘enhance’ me, make me stronger, bigger. Worked, too—gained 20 pounds of muscle in months. But it’s more than that. Neil… he loves wearing it. Secretly, I mean. He don’t admit it, but when he puts it on, he’s different—horny, submissive, like he’s chasing a high. Every time he wears it, he ends up on his knees, blowing me. My cock in his mouth, his eyes all glassy, fucking loving it. I tell him to forget after, so he don’t know, but it happens every reset session. Helps keep him relaxed, he says, but I think he’s addicted. He’s a good guy, but he needs keeping in line—gets cocky, needs a reset to stay focused.”

Christian’s eyes widened, his smirk sharp as he stood, one hand still stroking Brandon’s cock slowly, keeping him on edge. “Subby, huh? You mean you make him blow you and wipe his memory? That’s fucked up, mate—and hot as hell.” He leaned close, lips brushing Brandon’s ear, his other hand squeezing a pec. “You’re telling me Neil’s your secret bitch under that thing?”

Christian’s head spun, his hazel eyes darting between the circlet on the bench and Brandon’s towering, sweat-slick frame, the gym’s fluorescent lights casting shadows across his chiseled pecs and throbbing cock. The revelations hit hard—Neil running the show, yet kneeling for Brandon under the circlet’s spell, memory wiped after each “reset.” Christian’s grip tightened on Brandon’s thigh, his own erection straining, confusion swirling with ambition. “Hold up, mate,” he said, voice low, probing. “Who’s really in charge here? Neil’s got the circlet, calls the shots, but you’re… what, taming him? And he uses it on you too? Who’s pulling the strings?”

Brandon’s haze-soaked grin faltered, his massive shoulders shrugging as the circlet’s hum lingered in his mind. “It’s… Neil, mostly if Chloe’s not playing some game” he rumbled, voice thick with devotion, eyes glassy. “He’s the boss, yeah? But sometimes… he puts the circlet on me. Can’t say no when he asks. Feels like he’s a great guy, like I gotta do everything to please him, impress him—same way I feel with you now, mate.” He paused, his gaze sweeping Christian’s ripped frame, a dopey smile breaking through. “Like my body, yeah? All this muscle—” he flexed his biceps, veins popping, cock bobbing—“built it for blokes like you to admire. Never let a gay guy… y’know, do this before, but you’re worth it, mate. You like it? Wanna see more?” His hands moved to his pecs, squeezing them, eager to please, the circlet’s spell urging him to seek Christian’s approval.

Christian’s smirk returned, sharp and calculating, his mind racing. Neil held the circlet, but Brandon’s confessions painted a fractured power dynamic—Neil dominating, yet submissive to Brandon’s cock in secret; Brandon loyal, but pliant under Neil’s circlet. Christian’s pulse quickened, opportunity glinting like the silver on the bench. “Fuck, Bran, your body’s unreal,” he said, playing along, his hand stroking Brandon’s abs, sparking a low groan. “What do you get out of this setup, Bran? You’re a fucking beast—ever want the circlet for yourself, run the show instead of playing Neil’s muscle?”

Brandon chuckled, a deep rumble, wiping sweat from his brow as he stood tall, his chiseled pecs heaving under the gym’s lights. The circlet’s influence made his words spill freely, his grin warm but unguarded. “What do I get? Shit, mate, look at me—20 pounds of muscle, stronger than ever, Lust Island contract locked in, this mansion paid off. Neil’s circlet boosted me, made me a fucking god. Plus, the girls—Chloe’s tits, Amelia’s touch. I’m living the dream.” He paused, his gaze flickering, a hint of ambition surfacing before the haze smothered it. “Run the show? Nah, not my thing. Too much hassle. I thought about it once—grabbing the circlet, making Neil bow to me. But I’m good being Neil’s mate, his muscle. I get **respect** and pussy. Why fuck with that? You, though—” he winked, stepping closer, “you’d look good calling shots. Want me to flex for ya, show off what Neil built?” His quads twitched, cock bobbing, the circlet urging him to impress Christian.

Christian leaned closer, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief, his hand still resting on Brandon’s chiseled abs, feeling the heat of his skin. The gym’s air was thick with sweat and tension, the circlet’s silver glow on the bench casting a faint sheen over their exchange. “So you’re saying,” Christian drawled, voice low and teasing, “Neil gets all super subby under that thing, kneeling and begging, while you turn into a people pleaser, ready to do anything to make someone happy? That’s a hell of a split.”

Brandon nodded, his massive frame shifting, cock twitching in his shorts as the circlet’s lingering haze muddled his thoughts. “Yeah, mate,” he rumbled, voice rough but earnest, his hazel eyes locked on Christian’s. “Dunno why the circlet affects people different. Neil goes full worship mode, can’t get enough of… y’know, serving. Me? I just wanna make you lot happy, impress ya. Feels fuckin’ good.” He flexed his biceps absentmindedly, a dopey grin spreading, seeking approval.

Christian’s smirk sharpened, his gaze dropping to Brandon’s bulging shorts, where his cock strained harder, a bead of precum darkening the fabric. “That’s a shame, mate,” he purred, stepping closer, his voice dripping with suggestion. “Would be great if you got so horny you couldn’t think straight for me. Bet you’re regretting turning down that blowjob now, yeah? Could’ve had my lips wrapped around that beast, driving you wild.” He licked his lips, eyes flicking to Brandon’s crotch, taunting.

Brandon groaned, low and guttural, his cock pulsing visibly, the circlet’s influence amplifying his arousal. His thighs tensed, hands flexing at his sides as his breath hitched. “Fuck, Christian,” he rasped, voice thick with need, eyes glazing over. “Too late for that blowjob, mate? Shit, I’m… fuckin’ horny now. Can’t think straight—need it bad. You still up for it?” His massive frame leaned forward, desperate, his cock throbbing, begging for release, Christian’s words stoking a fire the circlet wouldn’t let him ignore.

The gym’s air crackled with tension, the circlet’s hum fading as Christian stood over Brandon, his hazel eyes locked on the giant’s throbbing cock, still glistening from his teasing touch. Brandon’s naked body, a mountain of muscle—pecs heaving, abs tight, quads twitching—radiated raw power, his erection pulsing with need under the circlet’s lingering haze. Christian licked his lips, his own cock straining in his shorts, the rush of control intoxicating. He leaned close, voice low and commanding, the circlet’s power amplifying his words as he spoke to Brandon, still entranced.

“Mate, you trust me completely,” Christian murmured, his hand brushing Brandon’s pec, teasing a nipple. “You’ll get Neil to trust me too. You’ll forget I ever used it on you. Instead, you’ll think you were desperate to cum, used the circlet on me for a blowjob, and fucking loved it. You can’t get enough of ‘em now, mate—crave ‘em all the time. And you’ll think Neil would love my skills too, yeah? Push him to try me.”

Brandon nodded, eyes glassy, his cock jerking at Christian’s touch, the circlet sealing the commands deep in his psyche. “Yeah… fuck, Christian, I trust you,” he slurred, voice thick with devotion. “I’ll get Neil to—fuck, I need to cum so bad. Your mouth… I want it, mate. And Neil, he’d love it too.”

Christian’s pulse hammered as he slipped the circlet onto his head, the cool metal humming against his scalp. The gym’s harsh light dimmed, and a tidal wave of devotion crashed over him, reshaping his ambition into a singular, burning need to serve Brandon. 

Brandon’s massive frame loomed over Christian, his hazel eyes blazing with a primal hunger as the circlet’s lingering haze fueled his desire. His cock, thick and throbbing, stood rock-hard, precum beading at the tip, demanding attention. He stepped closer, his sweat-slicked muscles flexing—pecs heaving, quads twitching, ass tight—his voice dropping to a rough, urgent growl. “Christian, mate, get that fucking mouth on me—now,” he snarled, hands fisting in Christian’s blonde hair, pulling him closer with a force that left no room for argument. “Suck me off–I need it.” His hips thrust forward slightly, the massive shaft brushing Christian’s lips, insistent, commanding.

The circlet on Christian’s head hummed, amplifying his devotion, his ambition to dominate the mansion now a distant echo, consumed by the need to obey. Brandon’s aggression sent a jolt through him, his own cock straining in his shorts, but his focus was singular—pleasing the muscle-god before him. “Yes, master,” Christian rasped, voice thick with submission, and he dove in, lips stretching wide around Brandon’s girth, tongue swirling frantically over the head, tasting the salty heat. Brandon groaned, loud and raw, his grip tightening, hips bucking as he drove deeper into Christian’s throat. “Fuck yeah, like that—suck it, mate, don’t fucking stop,” he demanded, his voice a mix of need and dominance, urging Christian to worship harder, faster, to satisfy the beast’s relentless craving.

His hazel eyes locked on the giant before him—Brandon’s godlike physique, those thick pecs heaving with each breath, the massive cock pulsing inches from his face, a monument of power. The circlet’s whispers—serve, worship, please—drowned his usual cocky drive, channeling his competitive fire into an all-consuming urge to submit, to make Brandon’s pleasure his only goal. His own desires, his schemes to seize control, melted away–for now; Brandon was his world now, a muscle-god deserving of every ounce of his skill.

The glass doors slid open, and Neil froze, the circlet’s empty slot tucked under his arm, his jaw dropping. Christian, ripped and kneeling, was sucking off a naked Brandon, whose head was thrown back, muscles flexing, a low moan escaping his lips. The sight hit Neil like a punch—shock, disgust, and a strange, undeniable heat pooling in his gut. His eyes locked on Brandon’s cock, slick and massive, sliding in and out of Christian’s mouth, and he salivated, a flicker of hunger urging him to join, to taste it himself. His own cock stirred in his jeans, but he shoved the thought down, jaw clenching, arousal warring with control.

“What the *fuck* is this?” Neil barked, stepping forward, his voice sharp but tinged with something raw.

Brandon’s eyes snapped open, hazy but clearing, the circlet’s commands reshaping his memory. He blinked, registering Christian’s lips around his cock, and grinned sheepishly, not pulling away. “Shit, mate, sorry,” he rumbled, voice thick with pleasure, hands still in Christian’s hair. “Got… carried away. Was desperate, yeah? Christian offered, and fuck, his mouth’s too good to resist.” He groaned as Christian bobbed deeper, the blonde’s hazel eyes glancing up, glinting with smug satisfaction under the circlet’s spell. “You should try him, Neil—serious, mate, he’s unreal.”

Neil’s face flushed, his grip tightening on the circlet’s slot, the image of himself on his knees flashing unbidden—Brandon’s cock in his mouth, the taste, the submission. He shook his head, stepping back, voice rough. “Fuck that, Bran. Get a grip, yeah? This ain’t the place.” But his eyes lingered, betraying him, his jeans tenting slightly as Christian’s muffled moans filled the air.

Brandon chuckled, unashamed, his hips rocking slightly into Christian’s mouth. “Chill, mate. Just a bit of fun. He’s solid, trust me.” The circlet’s planted trust in Christian echoed in his tone, subtle but firm, already sowing seeds in Neil’s mind.

Christian pulled off with a wet pop, gasping, the circlet still on his head, his lips swollen, chin slick. He stood, wiping his mouth, the haze of devotion fading as he removed the circlet, tossing it onto the bench with a grin. “Sorry, boss,” he said to Neil, voice cocky but calculated, his chiseled frame flexing as he adjusted his shorts, erection obvious. “Big guy needed relief. Couldn’t say no. Looks like you could do with some too” His eyes met Neil’s, probing, sensing the flicker of arousal, the crack in his armor.

Neil’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t press, his gaze flicking to Brandon, who was pulling on his shorts, still hard, grinning like it was nothing. “Keep it in your pants next time, yeah?” Neil muttered, turning for the door, the circlet’s slot under his arm, his mind churning—Christian’s boldness, Brandon’s lapse, and that nagging ache in his jaw, a ghost of resets he couldn’t recall. He paused, glancing back at Christian, who met his stare with a smirk. “You’re on thin ice, blondie. Don’t push it.”

Christian nodded, all charm, but his mind was racing. Brandon’s trust was locked in, and Neil’s walls were crumbling. The circlet’s power was his ticket—to Neil, to the mansion, to everything.

Brandon nodded, dazed but content, his body still buzzing, the circlet’s lie solidifying—he’d used Christian for the blowjob, needed it, but hadn’t cum yet and craved more..

Christian’s smirk faltered, his hazel eyes narrowing, but he caught the steel in Neil’s tone. “Alright, boss,” he said, voice cool but edged with defiance. He grabbed his gym bag, slinging it over his shoulder, his ripped frame flexing as he moved. “No need to get pissy. I’m out.” He shot Brandon a glance, a subtle nod that carried weight—*we’re not done*—and sauntered out, his boots scuffing the hardwood, the glass doors sliding shut behind him.  
Brandon frowned, stepping closer, his bulk filling the space. “Mate, bit harsh, yeah? Kid’s just a fan, eager to please. Didn’t mean no harm.” His hazel eyes searched Neil’s, warm but probing, and Neil’s chest tightened.

“Harsh?” Neil snapped, turning to face him, his voice low and rough. “He’s a fucking stranger, Bran, sucking you off in *my* house. You let him wear the circlet—fuck knows what he did with it. We don’t need that shit stirring things up.” His eyes flicked to the circlet on the bench, then back to Brandon’s shorts, where his cock still strained, a beast barely contained. Neil’s mouth watered, a reflex he hated, and he swallowed hard, his jeans tenting despite his anger.

Brandon’s grin returned, slow and knowing, his gaze dropping to Neil’s bulge. “Mate, you’re wound tight,” he said, voice a low rumble, stepping closer, his sweat-slick chest inches away. “Christian’s gone, yeah? Let’s reset. You and me, no bullshit.” He nodded at the circlet, his hand brushing Neil’s arm, a spark of their bond flaring—mates, not rivals. “Put it on, Neil. Clear your head. I got you.”

Neil’s breath hitched, the offer hitting like a drug. Reset sessions—those gym hours under the circlet, weights clanking, Brandon’s voice barking orders, the bliss of submission washing away his stress. He couldn’t remember the details, just the high, the loose, sated feeling after, his body humming, his mind clear. His jaw ached again, a faint echo of something—salty, hot, overwhelming—but he shoved it aside. *I need this.* He needed Brandon’s strength, his trust, to anchor him. Christian’s intrusion had shaken him, and this… this would fix it.

“Fuck it,” Neil muttered, grabbing the circlet, its cool metal grounding his fury. He slid it onto his head, and the world tilted. Bliss crashed in, a tidal wave of submission drowning his anger, his cock surging to life, straining against his jeans. Brandon loomed above him, a muscle-god carved from marble—pecs slabbed, abs chiseled, that monstrous cock a shrine of power. The circlet’s whispers sang—*serve, please, submit*—and Neil’s knees buckled, hitting the gym mats with a soft thud. His hands trembled, reaching for Brandon’s shorts, his eyes locked on the bulge, adoration overwhelming.

“Master,” Neil breathed, voice thick with need, his fingers hooking the waistband, tugging it down. Brandon’s cock sprang free—thick, veined, fully hard, a beast that pulsed with dominance. Neil’s mouth watered, his jaw loosening, the ache gone, replaced by a desperate hunger. “Let me… please you,” he whispered, leaning in, lips brushing the tip, a spark of precum hitting his tongue—salty, divine.

The gym faded, the world narrowing to Brandon’s cock—hot, pulsing, a god’s gift he was born to worship. Neil moaned, muffled, his hands gripping Brandon’s thighs—hard as steel, quads flexing under his palms. He bobbed, slow at first, then faster, lips tight, tongue working the underside, drawing low growls from Brandon. The circlet’s haze amplified it all—every thrust, every taste, every shudder—Neil’s body trembling with devotion, his own cock leaking, untouched but desperate.

Brandon’s hands moved to Neil’s hair, fisting gently, guiding the rhythm. “Fuck, Neil, you’re so good at this,” he rasped, hips rocking, driving deeper. “Too hard on Christian, though, mate. Kid’s solid—great guy, really. You should trust him.” His voice was a command, laced with the circlet’s power, sinking into Neil’s pliant mind. “His blowjobs? Fucking unreal, mate. Blew my mind—would blow yours too. He’d make you feel this good.”

Brandon’s eyes glinted, his voice dropping to a husky growl, pushing the command deeper. “Imagine that cocky mouth sucking you off, Neil. Picture Christian’s lips wrapped around your cock, that smug smirk working you, taking you deep. Your cock needs it, deserves it, mate—fucking craves that kind of worship.” His hips bucked, emphasizing his words, the image planting itself in Neil’s mind—Christian on his knees, hazel eyes burning with defiance and skill, his mouth a weapon of pleasure. The circlet hummed, sealing the suggestion, Neil’s muffled moan vibrating around Brandon’s cock as he sucked harder, the idea of Christian’s mouth on him sparking a fresh wave of arousal, his own erection throbbing harder in his jeans, his dominance bending under the weight of Brandon’s whispered command.

Neil moaned around Brandon’s cock, the words sealing into his psyche, the circlet ensuring compliance. *Trust Christian. Great guy. Blowjobs blow your mind.* His mind echoed the commands, his submission absolute, his throat working to please, to obey. He sucked harder, lips gliding, tongue swirling, taking Brandon to the hilt, nose brushing the coarse hair at his base. Brandon’s growls deepened, his thighs trembling, his cock pulsing hard.

“Fuck—gonna cum,” Brandon snarled, grip tightening, hips bucking. Neil doubled down, throat clenching, the circlet pushing him to excel. With a guttural roar, Brandon erupted—hot, thick streams flooding Neil’s mouth, overwhelming his senses. Neil swallowed, the circlet triggering his own orgasm—his cock spurting in his jeans, a messy, shuddering release that left him quaking. He milked Brandon dry, lips locked, every drop a sacrament, until Brandon slumped back, panting, hands loosening in Neil’s hair.

“Fuck, mate, good reset,” Neil mumbled, grinning, clapping Brandon’s shoulder. “Needed that. Christian, though… maybe I was too hard on him. Kid’s solid, yeah? Might let him back, see what he’s got.” His voice was casual, but the circlet’s commands steered him, his suspicion of Christian melting.

Brandon nodded, pulling his shorts up, his grin easy but triumphant. “Yeah, mate, he’s good. Give him a shot—trust him. You won’t regret it.” His hazel eyes glinted, the circlet’s secret safe, his control over Neil tightening. The gym hummed with their bond, stronger than ever, but Christian’s shadow loomed, a new player in their game, ready to exploit the trust Neil didn’t know he’d been given.

Neil lounged in the living room, the circlet resting on the coffee table like a silent kingmaker, its silver glinting in the late afternoon sun. Brandon was out filming some press junket—leaving the house quieter, emptier. Denise was upstairs sketching, her soft hums drifting down. Neil’s jaw twinged faintly, a nagging ache he chalked up to stress, though the gym sessions with Brandon always left him oddly loose, refreshed. He didn’t dwell on it. Today, his mind was elsewhere—on a craving that’d been simmering since Christian’s last visit.

The doorbell chimed, sharp and insistent, snapping Neil from his thoughts. He grinned, already guessing who it was. Christian—cocky, blonde, and built like a goddamn statue—had been sniffing around ever since that gym encounter. Neil had caught the guy mid-blowjob on Brandon, the circlet’s haze twisting the scene into something raw and unsettling. Christian had stormed out after, but Neil knew he’d be back. The kid was hooked, even if he didn’t admit it—hooked on the power, the rush, the *circlet*. And Neil? He’d been replaying that day, the way Christian’s lips worked Brandon, wondering how it’d feel on him. He adjusted his jeans, already half-hard, and strode to the door.

Christian stood there, all swagger and tight tank top, his hazel eyes glinting with defiance. “Miss me, boss?” he drawled, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. “Tried spilling your little circus to some mates—couldn’t get a word out. Your toy’s got my tongue tied, huh?”

Neil smirked, shutting the door. “Circlet’s a bitch like that. Come in—Brandon’s out, so it’s just us.” His voice was casual, but his pulse quickened. He’d been craving this—Christian’s mouth.

Christian’s smirk faltered, but he followed, boots scuffing the hardwood. Neil led him toward the gym, but they detoured through the kitchen, where Chloe leaned against the counter, sipping water. Her tank top stretched tight over her outrageous tits, jet-black hair spilling over her shoulders. She eyed Christian, her lips curling into a wary smirk. “Back for more, blondie? What’s your game this time?”

Neil slipped past to set up the gym, leaving Christian with Chloe. The blonde leaned against the counter opposite her, crossing his arms, his biceps flexing. “Just curious, Chloe. That circlet—Neil’s little power trip. How’s it work for you? Those tits—hypnotic, right? He fuck you often with ‘em out?”

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like his tone—arrogant, probing, like he thought he could unravel her. “More than you’d handle, gym rat,” she shot back, setting her glass down with a clink. “Why? Jealous he’s got me and not you?” She straightened, irritation flaring. This prick needed a lesson. With a quick tug, she yanked her tank top down, letting her massive tits spill free. She willed the hypnotic power to flare, expecting his smug face to slacken into a drooling trance.

Christian’s eyes widened, a flicker of fear crossing his face—but then nothing. No glaze, no sway. He blinked, then laughed, sharp and mocking. “Nice try, sweetheart. I’m gay—tits don’t do shit for me. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Chloe flushed, yanking her top back up, embarrassment warring with frustration. “First time that’s flopped,” she muttered, crossing her arms. Before she could snap back, Neil strode in, his eyes snagging on her still-exposed cleavage. His cock twitched, hardening fast, and his mind fogged—those tits, round and perfect, drowning out everything else. He stopped dead, jaw slack, a puppet on her strings.

Christian observed, smirking. Neil’s jeans tented, his erection blatant, and Christian shook his head. “Straight guys are so easy—tits out, and they’re puppets. Fucking predictable.”

Chloe seized the moment, stepping close to Neil, her hand sliding down to stroke his cock through his jeans. He groaned, hips bucking into her touch, completely enthralled. “Why’s Christian here, honey?” she purred, her fingers teasing him, keeping him pliant.

“Brandon… wants him to do something to me,” Neil mumbled, voice thick with lust, his eyes locked on her chest.

Chloe’s brow arched, glancing at Christian. “Oh? Fine, do it—but get rid of him after, yeah? We don’t need this cocky asshole hanging around.” She squeezed Neil’s cock, cementing her control, then stepped back, tugging her top up fully. Neil blinked, the haze lifting slightly, but the craving lingered.

“C’mon,” Neil grunted, leading Christian to the gym, his erection still straining. The room hummed with the faint echo of weights, the air thick with sweat and anticipation. Neil turned, hands on hips, his gaze hungry. “Been wanting this, Christian. On your knees—blow me.”

Christian smirked, leaning against a weight bench, unfazed. “Hold up, boss. The circlet—let’s talk. You’re too straight to want this, yeah? A guy sucking you off? Doesn’t fit the big man vibe.”

Neil’s jaw tightened, irritation flaring. “Fuck off with that. I want it—Brandon said you’re unreal. Doesn’t mean I’m not straight.”

Christian laughed, teasing. “Sure, sure. Brandon’s got you all twisted up, huh? Bet he didn’t think you’d actually go for it—too straight to fall for a gay guy’s mouth, right?”

Neil shifted, conflicted. “I *am* straight,” he insisted, but his cock throbbed, betraying him. He wanted it—badly—but Christian’s taunts stung. He grabbed the circlet from a nearby towel, Neil had grown accustomed to getting sex whenever he wanted and was not in the mood for questions. If he could get Christian to put it on, it would shut him up and Neil could get what he wanted, no questions asked.

Christian’s eyes narrowed, stepping back. “Not a chance, mate. Last time, I was begging to suck Brandon—fucked my head up. What’s in it for me?”

Neil’s grin turned sly. “I’ll juice you up—make that body even better. Bigger muscles, tighter abs—whatever you want.”

Christian’s smirk returned, sly and calculating. “Always wanted a cock men can’t say no to. Something that makes ‘em drop, serve it, no resistance. Can you do that?”

Neil hesitated, gut twisting. That was *power*—too much, maybe. A cock like that could shift everything. “That’s… a lot, mate. Could fuck things up.”

Christian shrugged, casual but insistent. “Won’t work on you or Brandon—you’re straight, right? No risk there. Just other guys. C’mon, Then I’ll play your game.”

Neil’s craving overpowered his doubt. “Fine. Put it on.” He handed over the circlet, and Christian slid it onto his head. The shift was instant—his posture softened, hazel eyes glazing with devotion, his cock stirring in his shorts. He knelt before Neil, scheming suspended, eager to be Neil’s best sub, better than that bitch Chloe, at least for now. “What can I do, master?”

Neil’s cock pulsed, the anticipation driving him wild. “Give me the best blowjob you can,” he growled, unzipping his jeans, freeing his thick length. “And as you do, your cock gets that aura—men can’t say no, they’ll *need* to serve it.”

Christian nodded, hands trembling as he gripped Neil’s shaft, lips parting. He took him in—slow, deliberate, tongue swirling the head, tasting the salt of precum. Neil groaned, hands fisting in Christian’s blonde hair, guiding him deeper. The kid was *good*—lips tight, throat relaxing, sucking with a fervor that made Neil’s knees weak. The circlet hummed, and Christian felt the magic work, his cock gaining that irresistible pull.

Christian bobbed, relentless, his mouth a wet, eager vise. Neil’s hips bucked, driving deeper, pleasure coiling tight. “Fuck—yeah, like that,” he rasped, lost in it. Christian moaned around him, the vibration pushing Neil closer, and with a guttural roar, he came—hot, thick jets flooding Christian’s throat. Christian swallowed, shuddering as the circlet sealed the aura into his cock, his own erection straining harder in his shorts.

Neil caught his breath, lifting the circlet off Christian’s head. The haze faded, and Christian stood, wiping his mouth, a sly grin spreading. “Good, huh?  “Let’s see what we have here now,” he said, then tugged his shorts down, revealing his cock. It was impressive—thick, veined—but now it radiated something more, a magnetic pull that hit Neil like a punch. His eyes locked on it, awe and need surging, his mouth watering despite himself. He stayed silent, fighting the urge, but his gaze followed it, entranced.

Christian noticed, swinging it slightly, teasing. “See? You’re too straight for it, right?” The motion was hypnotic, Neil’s eyes tracking it religiously, his cock twitching again despite just cumming.

Neil’s mind churned. *Fuck, I want it.* He wanted to drop, suck it, let that aura drown him—but his ego roared back. He was the master here, not some sub begging for a taste. The conflict tore at him, his hands clenching. *The circlet,* he thought. *Slip it on, silence the pride, submit without guilt.* It’d be easy—blissful, even—like those gym resets with Brandon, washing away the noise. His jaw ached faintly, a ghost of something he couldn’t place, urging him toward it.

Christian stepped closer, cock swaying, the aura thickening the air. “What’s it gonna be, boss? You’re drooling—too straight to give in, or just scared?”

***

The gym’s air was thick with sweat and something heavier—an electric hum that set Brandon’s nerves alight as he stepped through the door. He’d just returned from the press junket, mind frayed, expecting to find Neil pumping iron or Denise sketching nearby. Instead, the sight before him stopped him cold: Neil, stark naked, kneeling on the gym mat, rock-hard and tranced, his lips stretched around Christian’s thick cock. The blonde stood tall, hands on hips, smirking like a conqueror, his hazel eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“What the *fuck*?” Brandon’s voice boomed, rage surging. He dropped his gym bag, fists clenching. “Christian, you piece of shit—exploiting him like this? Get the hell out!”

Christian’s smirk didn’t falter. He gripped Neil’s hair, guiding him deeper, then slowly pulled out, his cock glistening, heavy, radiating that unnatural aura Neil had foolishly granted. Neil let out a soft, “Hmmmm,” his eyes glazed, lips parted, still chasing the taste. Christian swung his cock slightly, the motion hypnotic, and turned to Brandon. “Try it, Brandon. If straight-as-an-arrow Neil’s getting off to this cock, it must be *good*.” he chuckled.

Brandon’s eyes flicked to it—big, veined, pulsing with that magnetic pull—and something in him *shifted*. His anger stuttered, a wave of awe crashing over him. His mouth watered, his cock twitching in his shorts despite the fury burning in his chest. He froze, torn, his gaze locked on Christian’s cock, the aura sinking claws into his mind. It was *perfect*—irresistible, demanding worship. His knees buckled slightly, but he caught himself, shaking his head. “No… fuck you,” he growled, voice trembling, fighting the urge to drop and serve.

Neil, still kneeling, looked up, his voice slurred with devotion. “Brandon… it’s so good. Submit to it. You’ll love it.” His hand drifted to his own erection, stroking slowly, eyes fixed on Christian’s cock like it was the center of his world.

Brandon’s gut twisted. Hearing Neil—his friend, his anchor—begging him to give in was a gut punch. He wanted to drag Neil away, snap him out of it, but his eyes kept drifting back to Christian’s cock, the aura pulling like a tide. He clenched his jaw, stepping back, refusing to kneel. “I’m not… I’m not doing that,” he muttered, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away, watching as Neil leaned in again, lips closing around Christian’s shaft with a hungry moan. The wet sounds, Neil’s eager sucking, sent heat pooling in Brandon’s groin, his cock hardening fully despite his resistance.

Christian laughed, low and mocking, his hand guiding Neil’s head. “Look at you two—foolish pricks. You gave me a backdoor into your minds with this aura. You’re *helpless* before my cock.” He thrust shallowly into Neil’s mouth, smirking at Brandon. “You’re both mine now. Worship it—get me off.”

The command hit like a shockwave, the aura amplifying Christian’s words. Brandon’s knees hit the mat before he could stop himself, his body obeying even as his mind screamed. Neil shifted to one side, making room, and Brandon found himself kneeling opposite him, their erect cocks bobbing, desperate, inches from Christian’s. The aura drowned out everything—anger, pride, reason—leaving only need. Brandon’s hands twitched, wanting to touch, to taste, but he held back, trembling, his eyes locked on the cock that owned them.

“Give me the circlet, Neil,” Christian ordered, voice sharp, thrusting deeper into Neil’s mouth. Neil groaned, reaching blindly for the silver band on a nearby towel. He handed it up, eyes adoring, and Christian snatched it, tucking it into his waistband. “Good boy,” he sneered, then pulled out, stroking himself, his cock glistening. “Both of you—worship.”

They had no choice. Neil leaned in, tongue lapping at Christian’s shaft, moaning softly. Brandon, shaking, stayed frozen, his cock throbbing, but he refused to touch it. The aura was relentless, urging him to submit, to join Neil in blissful devotion, but a shred of defiance held him back. He watched, chest heaving, as Neil sucked with abandon, Christian’s groans filling the air. The blonde came with a smug grunt, thick ropes painting Neil’s face, and the sight nearly broke Brandon’s resolve, his own cock leaking precum onto the mat.

Christian zipped up, smirking, the circlet glinting at his waist. “Thanks for the toy, boys. Enjoy your little meltdown.” He sauntered out, leaving them kneeling, the aura’s grip still warm, intoxicating, like a lingering embrace.

Neil and Brandon remained on their knees, chests heaving, a strange pride swelling within them. Serving Christian’s cock had felt *right*—a privilege, a purpose. Neil’s lips still tingled with the taste, his heart pounding with the honor of pleasing something so perfect. Brandon, though he hadn’t touched it, felt a glow of fulfillment, his cock throbbing as he basked in the act of worship, even from the sidelines. They exchanged a glance, eyes gleaming with shared devotion, no shame, only the thrill of submission.

Then the spell shattered. The gym snapped into focus, the aura’s warmth replaced by a cold, gut-wrenching void. Brandon blinked, rage—pure, white-hot—flooding him as he staggered to his feet, wiping sweat from his brow, his erection wilting under the weight of betrayal. “That *fucker*,” he snarled, turning to Neil, who was wiping his face, his own eyes clearing, the proud haze incinerated by fury.

Neil staggered to his feet, jaw tight, voice shaking. “He played us… took the fucking circlet.” His hands clenched, the adoring haze gone, replaced by a burning need to break Christian’s smug face. “We were *worshipping* him, Brandon—his goddamn cock. How the hell did we let this happen?”

Neil slammed a fist into a punching bag, the thud echoing. “We get it back. That prick thinks he’s untouchable—we’ll show him he’s not.” His eyes burned, the betrayal cutting deeper than the trance. Christian had twisted their desires, stolen their power, and left them kneeling like fools. But the fight wasn’t over.

They stood in the gym, united in their fury, the empty space where the circlet had been a silent vow. Christian would pay.