The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hypnotic Snippets 02 — Heading to a party

Inspired by: https://hypnoteen.deviantart.com/art/Heading-to-a-party-551630806

Looking good, looking good.

I sneak a last glance into the mirror as I head for the door. My girlfriend is there, looking amazing; she’s an auburn beauty that I occasionally realise is way outside my league and I’m damned lucky is even willing to talk to me. The rest of the time, I just revel in the fact that we’re such an amazing couple.

We head out to a bar in town; it’s reasonably quiet at the moment, which is good because we both just want a quiet evening out together. Maybe it would turn interesting later...

I see him enter the bar just after my girlfriend goes to grab some drinks. Even on a relatively mild evening he wears a vest and jeans, with a light jacket tucked under one arm. His hair goes from almost black in the shadows through sandy blond to nearly white in the bar’s lights. Something about him stands out from everyone else around him, and as his eyes roam around the bar I find myself meeting them naturally as they linger on me.

Normally I would find that a bit embarrassing, meeting the eyes of a complete stranger across a bar like that. But something about him makes it feel natural; perhaps the faint smile as if he recognises the connection between us that was already there. I’m not sure.

I’m not even sure how long that moment lasts before he turns away, something telling me that the connection isn’t broken, but merely postponed briefly, and my eyes follow him as he walks over to a seat at the bar and orders a drink, his back to me and his reflection invisible in the bottles behind the bar.

My gaze is still on him when my girlfriend returns, and it takes me a few seconds to shake the reverie. Fortunately she follows my gaze and her eyes settle on the pretty blond just to his left, and I merely earn myself a playful nudge for being easily distracted.

It’s hard to concentrate for the next half an hour or so... My mind keeps turning back to the young man sitting by the bar, apparently ignored by everyone else. Something about him was almost magnetic, drawing my attention the whole time.

Eventually I excuse myself to go to the toilet; it’s the only defence that I can come up with for why I’m so distracted, and mostly true by that point anyway. Almost without realising it, I notice that he’s stood up at the same time as me and is heading in the same direction.

I try to look him over, out of the corner of my eye, while we’re both emptying our bladders. He never even looks at me, but there’s a faint smile on his lips that tells me he knows that I’m watching him.

At the sinks we both wash our hands, and then in an incautious moment my eyes flicker up to his reflection in the mirror.

He’s been standing there, leaning over the sink, staring at me... Waiting for me. A faint smile appears on his lips as my gaze settles onto his, finding itself there naturally. How long this moment lasts, isn’t clear to me. But again, he is the one who ends it, not by turning away, but by speaking, never taking his eyes off mine, like a trainer holding a dog on a leash.

“Who are you here with?” he asks, his voice smooth.

I pause for a second, and I’m thrown; I know that I was here with someone, but lost in this moment, with his gaze taking so much of my attention...

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells me, and somehow those words stop my scurrying thoughts dead. It suddenly doesn’t matter who I was here with, or even if I was with someone at all. “You’re with me now.” His head cocks on one side slightly, and without noticing it my own follows the gesture, our gazes still locked in the mirror, mine bound irrevocably to his. “You don’t have a drink to finish, do you?” Somewhere in my mind the question becomes a statement, and I shake my head very slightly to denote that there is nothing for me here.

The music in the bar, barely audible through the doors, changes tempo, and he straightens up as if spurred on by this, reaching out a hand to spin me around to face him. There isn’t any perceptible transition for me between watching his eyes in the mirror and suddenly looking at them directly, and yet there they are, irresistible and powerful and all consuming.

“Just let yourself become empty,” he tells me, and before I can marshal my thoughts about that he leans forward, breaking our eye contact as his lips touch mine for a second, before he pulls back again, my gaze once more bound to his. “It doesn’t matter who you are, or what you are,” he tells me, and some part of me realises that he’s right. “Right now, everything that matters to you is me.”

He has his arm around my shoulder as he leads me out of the bar. Someone might have commented about that; I can’t be sure. It wasn’t important if they did. All that matters to me is him, and once again I consider that I’m a damned lucky guy.