Roscoe was quite excited for his first hit. Since his hypnotic targets were normal, everyday people, he had to do some undercover work to find the best time to hypnotize them. That was where his PI background came in handy. This mark was fittingly named Marc, and he followed him around for a week, trying to find a place he frequented the most often. Marc was easy, as he visited the same bar every night. 

It was easy for Roscoe to enter the busy bar and hypnotize the manager into letting him stay in the restroom. He had put on a nice suit, and he was told to reply to any questions about him that he was the new bathroom assistant. The plan worked, as most of the drunk bastards who stumbled in didn’t bat an eye at the well-dressed gent just loitering around. He patiently waited until Marc entered, and approached him. 

“Hello, Marc. Would you come with me?”

“Um, I guess.” One unfortunate side effect of the diluted hypno power was that Roscoe could not make long intricate commands. They could have drastic impacts on the person’s life, and ensnare them under his control, but they couldn’t be long. So, he escorted Marc to a side alleyway, away from the street.

“Marc, I am your master.”

“You are my Master.”

“Good. You will do whatever I tell you, with no questions asked.”

“I will do whatever you ask of me, Master.”

“You will have no memory whatsoever of your previous life.”

“I will have no memory whatsoever of my previous life, Master.”

“Good. I lock this in with the phrase ‘burnt baby powder’.” Using his compatriot’s lock words made it easier to remember, and since Roscoe’s victims were never fully lifted, they were always open. “Let’s see how well you can suck a cock, Marc. I haven’t had time to get my rocks off since I’ve been trailing you all fucking week.”

Roscoe then took out his cock. It was above the average of 5′ erect, topping out at a solid 10″. Marc got down onto his knees and began sucking him off. Unlike celebs, who were practically expected to dabble in same-sex experiences, random people were a hit and miss. Marc seemed to have some experience, at least, as he wasn’t biting or making any rookie mistakes. Even though they were tucked away far from the general public, the few who wandered down far enough to see them were quickly shooed away by Roscoe’s powers. 

After a few minutes, Roscoe was ready to burst. He had to have Marc swallow it, as public sex was still illegal, and cops were getting scarily good at finding sperm in this town. He watched as Marc swallowed all of his cum, seeing the thick globules of it go down his throat. Once he had finished, he zipped his pants up again and walked with Marc to his car. They drove to the warehouse district in town, which was abandoned no longer. Roscoe owned the entire complex, funded by Celebworld money. Most of the warehouse housed props and sets for the many pornos they were going to shoot, but a few were for living. Roscoe had one entire building to himself, and each new client had a small room to themselves, with their own bed, but a communal bathroom. Shooting was only fun with at least two people, so Roscoe decided to fall asleep.

Before he did, he shot an email to Trevor with Marc’s info. His name would then be fed into the Celebworld machine, slightly adjusted so that his disappearance wouldn’t matter at all to anyone that knew him. 

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