MIKE THE SOMNAMBULIST
Act 2 (Part 3)
by StageShowMM
“—wide awake.”
I blinked my eyes, slowly stirring and coming round. Looking about groggily, I noticed I was for some reason lying on my side, the side of my head resting against someone’s jeans-clad leg.
Rising up halfway on my elbow, I looked further behind me and noticed that the leg belonged to Josh, who was similarly shaking his head and looking about groggily.
Sitting all the way back up in my seat, I had this weird feeling of déjà vu, as though this whole process were somehow familiar. I remembered coming up here for some reason having to do with a hypnosis show, and I knew I’d been up here a few minutes, but I felt like I’d been doing this waking up thing over and over. I wondered if maybe the hypnotist was having us do some kind of repetitive relaxation exercises or something. I seemed to remember from that Intro. to Psych. class that repetitive relaxation had something to do with hypnosis…
“All right, guys, everybody sit back up. Josh, why don’t you slide over next to Mike while Ant’s taking his little bathroom break?”
I felt Josh slide next to me as the form of the guy speaking made his way around the end of the row of chairs, lightly brushing Josh on the shoulder to indicate he should move.
As the hypnotist passed, making his way back across the stage in front of our row of chairs, I vaguely remembered him from before, from when I was in the audience, as he was going on and on about something to do with our hands. I remembered clasping mine together in some kind of test, and then it was all pretty blurry until now, where I’d somehow managed to get up here.
Casting a glance in the other direction down the row of chairs, I noticed there were plenty of other guys with me, including Ryan three or four seats down, and Hector at the other end.
Beyond the presence of a number of other guys onstage, I also couldn’t help but notice most of them were dressed really strangely—or, in most cases, barely dressed at all! Many were for some reason wearing nothing more than their underwear, and a few in the row were even naked! Even weirder was the fact that several of the guys—Ryan included—were sitting there with big floppy dildos in their hands, each pressing the base up against the crotch of their underwear—or, in the case of Dylan, right up against his actual, flaccid penis—leaving the dildo sticking straight up as though each guy had a huge hard-on.
“All right,” said the hypnotist, half addressing us and half addressing the audience. “I’ve spoken to some of you privately about the next part of the show, but for those of you who aren’t aware, I wanted to bring out a little treat for you all being so generous to come up here. Considering this is Spring Break, I figured what better way than with a sexy photo shoot staring a couple gorgeous models. Does that sound good to everybody?”
There were a couple of hoots and some scattered applause from the more enthusiastic (read: aggressively macho) guys onstage, with Ryan loudest of all, naturally. I, of course, wasn’t too unhappy about the prospect, but I’d like to think my mother raised me better than to catcall, even if the ladies hadn’t come out yet. Still, I supposed for not wanting to be up here, getting dragged into this stupid hypnosis show did have some perks—namely a front row seat.
“For those of you who were kind enough to do such a great job eating your popsicles, I’ve also got another treat—each of you has a beautiful Playboy model with you to help show our appreciation. Ladies, if you wouldn’t mind giving our guys a hand as they get ready for the show…”
There were hoots, cheers, and laughter from the audience as down the row of guys, three people (Sam, Jake and Paul) reached over and started stroking the dildo being held by the guy next to them (Jay, Ryan, and Parker, respectively), each of whom responded by leaning back and moaning ecstatically. Ryan, of course, laid a hand on Jake’s slender wrist and immediately began correcting his rhythm. Meanwhile, Dylan, the naked hipster kid, raised his free hand, the left still holding a dildo against his crotch.
“What’s up?” asked the hypnotist, stepping over and holding out a mic.
“Uh, I think I’m supposed to have someone too…” Dylan said, looking around.
“Oh, I’m sorry, man. There anybody up here you like?” asked the hypnotist.
Dylan looked around. “Just him,” he said, nodding at Jay to his right.
“I know, I’m sorry. I gave him to, uh… Sam,” he whispered, as though not to alert Dylan’s neighbor that his fake jerk session was coming from his best friend. Jay, for his part, was too busy enjoying having his plastic pecker pounded to notice.
“Anybody else?” asked the hypnotist hopefully.
Dylan looked around again. “They aren’t really my type…” he said.
“I know,” said the hypnotist, “Tell you what—since you’re such a good sport, I’m gonna show you a neat trick. Wanna see?” he asked. Dylan shrugged.
“Well, if you look here, and if you don’t mind me just… grabbing that…” Dylan gave the guy a really weird look as the hypnotist reached between his legs.
“Ploop!” said the hypnotist, grabbing the dildo and yanking it away from Dylan’s crotch. Dylan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets.
“Completely detachable,” said the hypnotist, holding it out.
“How the fuck did you do that?!” Dylan asked, blinking in disbelief as the audience cackled.
“I told you, man—magic!” said the hypnotist. He held the dildo back out at him. “Here you go. Every boy’s dream.”
Taking the dildo back and continuing to stare at it incredulously, Dylan held it out in front of himself for a few seconds before slowly bringing it toward his lips and flicking his tongue across the head.
Like a bolt of lightning went through him, Dylan twitched and jerked, convulsing and groaning with pleasure into the microphone the hypnotist was still holding out. The audience burst out in hysterics.
“Holy fuck…” Dylan muttered, a huge smile breaking across his face.
“Have fun, man,” said the hypnotist, patting his shoulder.
“Now, for the rest of you guys,” he continued, resuming his languid stride along the stage, “this next performance may be more or less interesting. But don’t worry, I’ve still got a bunch of surprises in store for some of you...
“First, I wanna check in with Arpit and Kyle, since I remember you both were having a little trouble with your neighbors before. Is everything going better now?” the hypnotist asked, stepping over to the two guys.
“Um, not really…” said Arpit, casting an uncomfortable glance at Parker next to him, who was writhing around and panting as Paul, still naked from the waist down and half-hard, gave him his handjob.
“Yeah dude, this is fucked up,” muttered Kyle, looking over uncomfortably at Jake, who was furiously frigging Ryan on the other side of him. Both Kyle and Arpit were, again (again?), hovering in their chairs, looking like they were ready to stand up and move elsewhere.
“Just stay put for one second, guys,” said the hypnotist, “’cause I’m about to bring out those models. Will that make things more interesting for the two of you?”
“It sounds cool, but I really think I’d enjoy it more if I moved somewhere else…” said Arpit, still looking about a second away from bolting.
“That’s no problem, man, you can actually go right up to the front of the stage,” the hypnotist said as a burst of marimba music started pouring out of the loudspeakers. Weirdly, the instant the music started, Arpit and Kyle’s expressions changed completely. Both quickly rose from their seats, adopting a sultry, pouty look. Turning to face each other, they both smiled and shook hands before walking toward the center of the stage.
“Excellent. That’s great, girls,” said the hypnotist. “Just peel right down to those bikinis and we’ll get started. In the meantime, I’m just gonna see if we can’t find a photographer…”
The few of us who weren’t currently either at the front of the stage getting naked or giving or receiving a dildo handjob looked around confusedly, until I noticed, to my left, Josh sitting up and raising his hand. I wondered what the fuck he was doing. I’d seen him snap plenty of pictures before with his iPhone, like anyone else, but I had never thought he was interested in photography. And furthermore, I had no idea why he would want to get up onstage with a couple of guys rolling around in their underwear.
“Oh, that’s great, man. Are you a photographer?” asked the hypnotist, jogging over and holding out his mic. The audience was tittering wildly, and began applauding as Arpit and Kyle started peeling off their shirts.
“Yeah,” said Josh, rising out of his seat. “I’ve been shooting for Playboy and Hustler for about… 5 or 6 years now,” he said matter-of-factly. I kept expecting him to break out in a mischievous grin. If that were true, he’d have been shooting since he was 15! But he remained placid and totally po-faced, as though he completely believed it.
“That’s great, man! And you have a camera?” asked the hypnotist.
“Yeah, best on the market,” said Josh, face still completely straight.
“Great!” said the hypnotist. “Go ahead and hop in there!”
Josh gave a little nod and shook the hypnotist’s hand, as though agreeing to a business transaction. Lifting one of his legs, he reached down and slipped off one of his sneakers, then hobbled across the stage, squatted, pressed the hole of the shoe over his right eye, and tapped at the side with his pointer finger, as though depressing a shutter. The audience was in hysterics.
During all of this, Arpit and Kyle had managed to take off their shirts as well as slipping out of their shoes, which they both tossed to the side. Kyle was already unbuckling the belt on his shorts, while Arpit had for some reason preoccupied himself with making sure his sandals were placed neatly in a pile next to his shirt. (Kyle, by contrast, had simply kicked his shoes in any direction.)
Another cheer and round of applause went through the audience as Kyle finished unzipping and let his baggy shorts fall to the ground, suddenly and surprisingly revealing he was completely naked underneath. (I was kind of shocked he had chosen to go commando, but at the same time, something seemed weirdly right about it, almost like it was something I knew about and forgot…) Again, he quickly and carelessly kicked his shorts to the side, placing his hands on his hips and turning toward Arpit.
Arpit, meanwhile, was unzipping his jeans, and another round of applause went up as he slowly slid them down. Rather unbelievably, he was also without underwear, which really surprised me since he didn’t seem like the type. Again, as with the shoes, he bent his scrawny ass over, picked up the jeans, shook them out and folded them neatly in front of him, setting them off to the side.
“That’s great, ladies,” said the hypnotist, striding over and standing in the middle of the two, putting an arm over each boy’s shoulder.
“Now what I’m gonna need the two of you to do,” he continued, turning each of them around to face each other, “is just start out standing, since we wanna get some nice shots of the two of you just hugging, maybe kissing a little bit, sexily. Can you do that?” Both Kyle and Arpit nodded, smiling and turning to face the “camera” as the hypnotist stepped out of the way.
Unfortunately, the two turning to the side afforded me a rather unwanted view of each of them in the buff. Of the two, Kyle definitely had the broader build, though not exactly defined like some of the guys onstage. He had some moderate tone in his legs, arms, and chest, like he probably played pick-up games of basketball now and then, but a faint little swell to his belly hinted at plenty of keggers. Between the legs he was moderately endowed, with just a bit of trimming to the pubes, it looked like. (Hey, a guy can’t help but compare!)
Arpit, by contrast, was thin as a rail, with the darker tones of his flesh hiding under the severely directional stage lights any shadowing that would indicate developed musculature. Really, he seemed to be largely composed of sinew—tall and lanky, like a guy who would slip sideways out of a jail cell in a cartoon or something. He had a smallish dusting of pubes, and in terms of junk, was kind of on the small side—though giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was a grower rather than a show-er.
Kyle took a couple steps over and threw his arm over Arpit’s shoulder, pressing his naked hip up to him as both broke out into broad smiles. Seeming to take control of things, Josh began talking as he snapped imaginary pictures, squatting, rising, and darting about in an imitation of how photographers on TV tend to act. The hypnotist followed, holding out a mic so the audience could catch the banter:
“That’s awesome, ladies,” said Josh, tapping his shoe a couple times with his finger. “Now press your chests against each other, rub those beautiful titties together…”
Kyle and Arpit smiled and turned again, pressing their bodies together as instructed, Kyle standing a bit on tiptoes in order to rub his nipples against Arpit’s. The audience was in hysterics, cheering and laughing through the whole thing. Incredibly, though it should not have been at all hard to remember, I seemed to be losing track of the fact that there were also six or seven guys giving and receiving fake handjobs directly down the row from me.
“Perfect, beautiful,” Josh continued, oblivious, as though he actually thought he was doing what the hypnotist had said. I couldn’t believe it. The rest of the guys could have come from anywhere—could have been actors or plants—but Josh I really had trouble believing was faking. It seemed like everything around me was 100% real, which scared the living daylights out of me and made me even more glad that I was apparently one of the few people up here who hadn’t gotten hypnotized.
“Now, if I can get you two to kiss…” he continued, sealing the deal for me. Josh was no homophobe, but I knew for a fact he was straight as an arrow, and like any straight guy, would never encourage a couple of guys to make out in front of him. I couldn’t believe he was doing this! It seemed like he genuinely thought they were a pair of beautiful women!
“Maybe if we can just get them to turn to the side a bit, for the lighting,” interjected the hypnotist, stepping over and gently pushing Kyle’s shoulder so he swiveled, giving the audience a better headlong view of his and Arpit’s embrace. Smiling again, the two leaned in, Kyle wrapping a hand delicately over the back of Arpit’s dark brown neck and kissing him slowly on the lips.
“That’s good, that’s good,” said Josh, diving in close and snapping more fake photos, “but can I get you to do it open-mouth, with some tongue action?”
Kyle, consistently seeming to be the guy who was just a little more into it, glanced over at Josh again and, giving a wink and smile, leaned in, opened his mouth and pressed it against Arpit’s slightly spread lips. His tongue sprang forward and slipped into the wet, dark crevices of Arpit’s mouth, dancing playfully against his own wet, pink muscle. Pulling away after a long moment, Kyle stared Arpit straight in the eye, his gaze seemingly burning with passion, before he reached up his other hand, pressing both on either side of Arpit’s smooth neck, leaned in, and kissed him again.
This kiss, though less wet, was perhaps even more passionate than the first, each guy pressing his lips into the other’s, tongues pulsing together between them, bodies melded in a smoldering embrace. Strangely, the thing I found most unnerving about the whole thing, even beyond the two (presumably) straight dudes Frenching, was how their limp penises rubbed casually against each other, each guy seemingly oblivious to the fact he was touching a total stranger’s junk with his own.
“Oh, fuck yeah, that’s brilliant!” said Josh, darting too and fro, the hypnotist barely able to keep up. “Now maybe you two can lay down on the ground. Keep going at it like that, but I want you to start caressing each other’s bodies, really sensually…” Josh continued, going into an unbelievable amount of detail. I couldn’t imagine what he would think if he knew he had two guys in front of him instead of whatever ladies he was imagining, but the roar coming from the crowd made it all too clear what they were thinking.
Both casting a sultry glance at their “photographer,” the two sank to their knees and lay down on the stage floor, Arpit wrapping his long arms around Kyle in a sexy embrace. This time it was Arpit who took the lead, diving in with tongue extended and pressing it messily between Kyle’s open lips. Kyle arched his back and pressed his chest closer to Arpit’s, pantomiming pleasure for Josh, as his hands reached out and began to explore Arpit’s slender body, running up and down his taut brown frame, from ribbed chest to thighs.
“Great, great!” exclaimed Josh, stepping back. “Now maybe if you two can look down here… Spread your legs a bit and give me that come-fuck-me stare?”
Having moved to the feet of the two and facing away from the audience, Josh squatted to Arpit and Kyle’s level as the guys turned to face him. Pulling their bodies slightly apart, Arpit and Kyle each extended one leg to either side, affording everyone in the audience a perfect spread-eagled view as they made smoky, come-hither faces at Josh’s shoe.
“That’s great, so good. Now touch yourselves, play with your tits and pussy…”
Continuing to make sexy come-on faces as Josh stepped off to the side to get more coverage, the two guys each started squeezing a pec with the hand beneath the elbow they were leaning on, while their free hand roamed down their body and brushed past their cocks as they played with their imaginary pussies. Always one for extra credit, Kyle reached under his balls, throwing his head back in pleasure as he fingered his taint.
“Oh, fuck yeah, that’s incredible! Now touch each other’s…” Josh continued, darting about and snapping “photos” with his shoe like a madman. Kyle reached over first and ran his hand delicately over Arpit’s tight ballsack, casting a smoldering glance at Josh and the shoe, while Arpit restricted himself to reaching over and stroking the inside of Kyle’s thigh.
“That’s phenomenal! Now you, suck on her titty,” said Josh, pointing at Arpit.
Giving him an obliging smile, Arpit leaned in and wrapped his lips around Josh’s soft, pink nipple, closing his eyes and tenderly sucking on it for a few long moments.
“So, so hot!” continued Josh. “Now, maybe if I can get one of you to flip around and we can do a sixty-nine?”
Smiling at him again, Kyle happily pushed himself up from his backwards sprawl and turned around so his head was nearer to the front of the stage. Not needing to be told twice, he pressed his face right up against Arpit’s flaccid dick, gently kissing and licking through the dark nest of pubes that surrounded it, completely oblivious to the fact that there was a wrinkled, fleshy protrusion jutting from its center.
Again, Arpit, still lying more on his back, was a bit more reticent, gingerly kissing around Kyle’s inner thigh and largely skirting the pube area. As Kyle adjusted to get a better angle on Arpit’s crotch, however, his dick shifted, sliding from between his legs and flopping down onto Arpit’s face. Arpit seemed to remain blissfully unaware of its location.
“That’s fantastic. That’s really great,” said the hypnotist, stepping in and putting a hand on Josh’s shoulder to exert his presence again.
“Now, I just wanted to remind you ladies that this is actually a Hustler shoot, not Playboy, so in just a minute here, I’m gonna need the two of you to go all the way. Thankfully, we brought in a nice guy for each of you to work with, and have had a couple of our best models keeping both of them hard for the last few minutes. If you’ll just turn around and look here…” said the hypnotist, striding back across the stage to the row of chairs.
Kyle, again, took eagerly to instruction, popping up from between Arpit’s thighs and turning around to get a better view of what the hypnotist was indicating.
“You,” said the hypnotist, pointing at Arpit, “take this sexy gentleman right here,” he said, indicating Parker. “And you,” he pointed at Kyle, “will be lucky enough to work with this stud right here,” he said, pointing at Ryan. Jesus, I couldn’t believe it! A near-naked Ryan getting a fake hum job from a completely naked guy in front of a room of hundreds of people! Disgusting as it was, I almost wished I had a (non-shoe) camera. It would make for great blackmail the next time Ryan started acting like a prick.
“You can just… set that down for the moment,” whispered the hypnotist as an aside, stepping over and brushing Jake’s delicate hand away from Ryan’s fake dick. Jake looked up for a second, puzzled, his eyes briefly connecting with the hypnotist’s, which was all it took—the hypnotist gently moved his hand up and snapped right next to the boy’s temple, whispering “sleep,” and Jake crumpled forward, torso collapsing into his lap, blonde hair swishing back and forth.
Finally realizing that his fake handjob had stopped, Ryan looked up, annoyed, and grunted, “What the fuck, dude?”
“Don’t worry, man, his beautiful lady’s coming right here to take care of you,” said the hypnotist, indicating Kyle, who was crawling across the stage toward him. Quickly reaching his target, Kyle pressed his hands on Ryan’s knees to hoist himself up to crotch level and wrapped his lips around the dildo between Ryan’s legs like a pro, inhaling about half of it in one go and bobbing up-and-down with more vigor than 90% of my past girlfriends. Ryan leaned back and moaned, reaching back with his free hand and running it through his hair, arching his back in ecstasy. Of course, always the alpha dog, it wasn’t long before his hand migrated down to its rightful place on Kyle’s head, where it quickly began guiding the rhythm of his bobbing.
Meanwhile, down the row, Arpit was engaged in a minor debate with Paul, whose hand remained tightly wrapped around Parker’s dick even as Arpit tried to pull it off. Caught between the two, Parker glanced back and forth confusedly, presumably both bemused and bewildered to be caught in a tug of war over his dick between what he (I assumed) believed were two beautiful women.
“Look, I need to give him head, for a photo shoot,” Arpit was saying, the words sounding all the more surreal coming out in his clipped, slightly accented cadence.
“I’m giving him a handjob!” Paul protested, seeming intensely dedicated to his task.
“Listen, Paul, there’s no need to get antsy,” said the hypnotist, stepping over to break up the dispute.
A look of strange discomfort crossed Paul’s face and he began to squirm in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his bare legs, his semi-erect penis jostling around in between.
“You’ve done a great job fluffing, but I’m gonna need you to let go of the dick,” continued the hypnotist, fixing Paul with a stern stare.
“I’m supposed to…” Paul muttered, his brain seeming to struggle with the cognitive dissonance of this new decree.
“Antsy, Paul,” said the hypnotist. Paul’s squirming doubled (at least), and he reached down with his free hand and began scratching under his balls, face a mask of discomfort.
“Antsy.” Paul’s squirming increased all the more, his left hand scratching frantically between his legs, which were jostling about wildly, his ass sliding from one side of the chair to the other. His grip on Parker’s “dick” had by this point loosened substantially, but his hand still desperately remained.
“Antsy,” continued the hypnotist. “Antsy. Antsy antsy antsy antsy—”
“AH! FUUUUUCK…” Paul groaned, finally dropping out of his seat and onto the floor, rolling around in agony as the tips of his fingers still lightly grazed the shaft of Parker’s dildo.
“Antsy, Paul. Antsy. Antsy.”
“GRAAAAH,” Paul groaned, finally yanking his hand away and jamming it between his legs as well, using both to scratch frenetically around his thighs and balls.
“Sleeeeep,” cooed the hypnotist, squatting down and placing a hand softly against the poor guy’s temple. Paul immediately went limp, falling elbows pulling his hands up his thighs, head rolling sideways on the floor, face relaxing into a mask of relief. His dick flopped still between his legs, his partial chub long since subsided.
“Here you go, honey, have at it,” said the hypnotist, motioning toward Parker’s “dick” for Arpit.
Parker looked up at him quizzically. “What did you do to her?” he asked, pointing at Paul. “And why do you keep saying ‘Paul.’”
“Don’t worry about it, Parker,” said the hypnotist, fixing him in his gaze. “Your only concern right now is to enjoy this niiiice blowjob…” He snapped gently and Parker shook his head, as though clearing his thoughts, while Arpit moved in and wrapped his lips around the head of Parker’s “dick.” Arpit was far more ginger than Kyle, mainly alternating between licking around the head of the dildo and wrapping the tip in his mouth and swirling his tongue. Nevertheless, Parker leaned back and groaned like he was in heaven, which I guess made sense since the blowjob was all in his mind. Meanwhile, down by Ryan, Kyle was working like a champ, slurping up and down the length of the shaft in perfect time with Ryan’s hand motions.
“Now, just so we don’t have any tension between friends,” said the hypnotist, striding down the row again back by me—“Sleep, Sam.” Stopping right before me, the hypnotist snapped his fingers next to the ear of the guy to my left, sending him sliding over limply into me. The whole thing was made even more awkward (as though catching a passed-out guy who’d just been giving another guy a fake handjob wasn’t awkward enough) by the fact that he was wearing nothing more than a tiny pair of striped, designer undies.
“Thanks, Mike,” said the hypnotist. Not sure what to do and looking around in a bit of a panic, I pushed the prone body of the guy next to me back into his own chair, lolling his head over the back of the seat to keep him stable.
“Wha- What just happened?” asked Jay, seeming like he was coming out of a trance.
“Just one second, I’ll take care of it,” the hypnotist said, brushing him off.
“You want to jump in here, Mike?” he continued, pointing at the tan dildo Jay was still holding obliviously. “I could make you do it real easy.”
Dumbfounded, I just kind of quivered and shook my head no. I was embarrassed at myself for being such a pussy, for not standing up and telling this guy A) that this was all super gross and creepy and B) to go fuck himself, but all the strange shit going on had me weirdly terrified. I was pretty much 100% positive I wasn’t hypnotized, but this guy seemed to have a knack for getting people to do pretty much anything (Ryan, sitting a few seats down from me, was proof enough), and I didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of him in front of a roomful of people.
“Don’t worry, you can have a rest. Just concentrate on that awesome smell coming from Sam’s hair right now,” he said, snapping his fingers. I blinked a bit. Come to think of it, maybe I had noticed a faint whiff of something earlier—it smelled a bit like lilac or lavender, but I hadn’t quite been able to put my finger on it. I was surprised to learn it was coming from Sam’s hair, but I was glad someone else had noticed it too—I was starting to think I was crazy.
“Hey Dylan,” said the hypnotist, walking a few steps down the row and tapping the naked hipster on his outstretched thigh as he writhed wildly in his seat, sucking on another big dildo, “You can have your turn with Jay now,” he said, pointing over at the boy next to him.
“Jay,” he continued, “I think you’re gonna find her handjob’s just as good—if not better—than the girl before. Just lean back and enjoy,” the hypnotist said, snapping his fingers again, just as Dylan’s eager right hand wrapped around the plastic dick Jay held between his legs. Leaning back, Jay moaned in ecstasy as Dylan began furiously but expertly stroking, leaning back in his own chair while slurping on his own dildo, a thick, all-too-real erection bobbing between his muscular thighs.
“All right, very good, guys. Hustler models, I want you both to focus extra hard on those dicks, because we only have a little while left for the shoot, and you’re both longing to be that centerfold. Everyone else, just enjoy following your individual commands or resting peacefully—those of you still seated and aware preparing to wake at the count of five. Five…”
I looked around. Everyone else onstage seemed preoccupied, most with a dildo, though Josh was still fixated on taking photos with his shoe. The only other people not doing something at the moment (or sleeping) were that Asian guy and Hector down at the other end, and they were both really far away from me. I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a quick sniff and see if the hypnotist was right about where that smell was coming from.
“Four…”
I pressed my nose into Sam’s hair and took a big whiff. Shit. Yep. It smelled fantastic. The hypnotist had definitely been right about that. And for some reason now that I was smelling more, I couldn’t get enough…
“Three… Now might be a great time to try out your best deep throat skills, for those so inclined…”
I glanced around again. Dylan was still writhing around, sucking on a dildo while giving the neighbor to his right a (fake) handjob. Ryan and Parker were both leaning back as Kyle and Arpit got more vigorous with their fake hummers. Josh continued to run around with his shoe, jogging in close to the action and tapping away at the side. Hector, for some reason shirtless and dressed in tights and a tutu, and Len, still dressed up but with his dress shirt untucked and unbuttoned, occasionally glanced about confusedly, but mostly just seemed to sit there in a bit of a daze. I figured the coast was clear for another, longer, deeper whiff of Sam’s sexy hair.
“Two… Remembering that you cannot touch each other. You can yell and scream, but there will be no physical violence…”
Fuck yeah that smelled good. What on earth was there to be violent about?
I ran my fingers through Sam’s hair and rubbed it against my nose, trying to get at more of that sweet odor. I looked around again. Everyone was still up to the same shit. Good. It seemed like no one saw me.
“One… Even as you wake up continuing to believe you are fully dressed…”
Just dive in for one more quick smell. Sam was passed out. It was fine. I’d stop after this next whiff. I just needed one more so I could remember what it smelled like.
Snap. “Wide awake.”
Suddenly, the figure in my arms stirred, jolting upright. “What??” he asked, as though jerking awake from a dream.
“Nothing!” I blurted, shoving him away and trying to pretend like nothing was going on. Thankfully, there was so much distraction onstage I didn’t have to worry.
“—THE SHIT, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT—”
“SLEEP!” said the hypnotist, snapping loudly next to Ryan’s temple and sending him sprawling sideways on top of the prone body of Jake in the chair next to him.
“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN, GET OFF ME!” screamed Parker, yanking his chair back and bolting to his feet, sending Arpit sprawling to the floor. Over by Ryan’s newly prone body, Kyle was hunched over on the floor, coughing and gagging and sputtering. Much luckier than most of the other guys currently onstage, Josh was merely standing there, holding one of his shoes in his hand and looking around, bewildered. I seemed to recall he had been doing something with it, but I wasn’t sure what.
“What’s going on, man?” asked the hypnotist, striding over to Parker.
“This guy’s fucking raping me!” he yelled, jumping to his feet and indicating Arpit. “You need to call the cops now!”
“Sure, I can do that,” said the hypnotist, calmly laying a hand on Parker’s shoulder. “Or you can just SLEEP,” he continued, tugging gently and sending Parker swooning into his side, the hypnotist catching him expertly and lowering him to the ground.
Turning to Arpit, who was sitting scrunched up in a little ball, the hypnotist asked, “Hey, man, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what happened…” Arpit muttered, sounding dazed. “I’m supposed to be a virgin… I want to get married…” he sounded like he might start crying. “I never even kissed a girl…”
“Sleeeeep,” said the hypnotist softly, laying a hand on Arpit’s shoulder. Arpit’s eyelids fluttered shut and he slumped over, melting onto the stage.
“Deep breaths. All care and energy draining. Understanding that what happened was just a daydream as you continue to drift peacefully, sinking deeper into relaxation—”
“Get your fucking hands off me! What the fuck are you doing?!” more screaming from quite close to me interrupted the hypnotist. This time it was Jay, one of the hipster twins to my left.
“I- I don’t know what happened!” sputtered Dylan, having yanked his chair away from Jay in the opposite direction. He had dropped his dildos (as had everybody else) and was looking about wildly, trying to get his bearings.
“Jay!” yelled the hypnotist, grabbing the boy’s attention. The hypnotist held up two fingers and quickly snapped them, dragging them down toward the ground. Jay instantly slumped forward, collapsing and sliding out of the chair into a limp sprawl on the floor.
The hypnotist rose from his spot by Arpit and started back in my direction.
“What’s going on here, man?” he asked, extending the microphone toward Kyle.
“Fuck,” Kyle sputtered, still gagging a bit. “This guy stuck his dick in my mouth…”
“Just a second ago you were complaining about him getting jerked off. Now you’re giving him a blowjob?” the hypnotist asked.
“I… I don’t…” Kyle sputtered, bewildered by what was going on.
“Sounds like you and Ryan have some shit to get figured out. In fact, maybe I’ll have you two work on that in a bit…” the hypnotist muttered, to chuckles from the audience.
“What’s going on, Dylan?” he asked, continuing in my direction.
“I don’t know. This is fucked up. This guy just passed out…” Dylan said, pointing at the motionless boy on the floor next to him.
“You wanna join him?” asked the hypnotist.
“I- No, I wanna get the fuck out of here, I don’t know what’s going on…” Dylan said, sounding really confused and frustrated.
“Hey, Dylan, just do me a favor and grab all these dildos off the stage. Then you can go,” said the hypnotist.
Looking around with a mixture of frustration and bewilderment, Dylan rose up and began walking around, still stark naked, picking up the dildos from among the sprawled bodies.
“What’s going on, Mike?” asked the hypnotist, turning to me. “What were you doing to Sam?”
“Nothing!” I blurted, probably a little too defensively.
“Was he doing something to you, man?” asked the hypnotist, turning to my neighbor.
“I don’t know…” he muttered, looking over at me confusedly and rubbing the side of his neck.
“Don’t worry about it, man, you’re doing great,” said the hypnotist, reaching in and snapping gently next to Sam’s ear. Sam immediately slumped to the side, and the hypnotist guided him down, so he sprawled out onto the couple of chairs next to him.
“I’m laying him down here so maybe you can manage to keep your hands off him, you perv,” said the hypnotist—I couldn’t tell if it was playfully or accusatorially.
“I… I wasn’t…” I muttered, not sure myself if I was lying or not. I honestly had no idea what I had just been doing. It was disorienting and frightening.
I was cut off by new peels of laughter rippling through the audience, which seemed to be coming mainly from the center of the room and were moving slowly closer to the stage.
Finally, it became clear what was generating the amusement, as out of the shadows beyond the front of the stage stepped Ant. Striding back up onto the performance area, his Mohawk freshly spiked, the lanky, tattooed alt dude was wearing nothing more than a tight black pair of panties and a lacy, matching bra.
Once he got under the lights, the entire crowd absolutely lost it, and Ant looked around as he crossed the stage, seemingly bewildered at why the whole room but him was laughing.
“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked as the hypnotist approached.
“Don’t worry about it, man,” said the hypnotist. “Someone’s wearing something funny.”
“Oh…” said Ant, looking around quizzically. Noticing all the half-undressed guys, he finally laughed and nodded.
“What happened, man? Where were you?” asked the hypnotist.
“I got some shit on my clothes.”
“Glad you’re back with us. Grab a seat.”
“Actually, I was kinda hoping I could get outta here—” started Ant, before the hypnotist interrupted him.
“You sure you wanna go out dressed like that?” asked the hypnotist, to titters from the audience.
“You got a problem with the way I dress?” asked Ant. The audience laughed again.
“Tell you what, just grab a seat for a few minutes and I’ll have you outta here,” the hypnotist continued, motioning back toward the row of chairs. Ant sighed and rolled his eyes, but dutifully started back toward my end of the row.
“What were you doing, man?” asked the hypnotist, turning and heading over toward Josh, who was hopping around onstage as he pulled on his shoe. (Why had he taken his shoe off?)
“I- I don’t know…” he mumbled, stumbling a bit as he finished sliding the shoe back on.
“There something wrong with your shoe?” asked the hypnotist.
“I don’t think so…” muttered Josh, finally righting himself.
“I think that’s all of them,” Dylan interrupted, walking up with a big bundle of dildos in his hands. The audience burst out laughing again.
“Awesome, man. Just throw them in here and toss them backstage,” said the hypnotist, producing a bag.
Dylan grabbed it and dropped the few dildos inside, then looked off toward the side of the stage quizzically. After a few moments’ awkward pause, he finally asked, “Like, toss it, or run it over…?” The audience tittered.
“It’s a bag of dildos,” said the hypnotist.
Dylan glanced down at it again awkwardly, looking a little disgusted, then swung the bag by the neck, underhand, and heaved it so it flew behind the curtains, landing with a thump. The audience chortled.
“Can I go now?” he asked.
“Sure thing, man, you can go,” said the hypnotist, extending a hand. Dylan reached out instinctively and grabbed it.
“…to SLEEP!” the hypnotist finished, tugging forcefully down. Dylan’s eyes rolled up in his head and he swooned forward, collapsing into the hypnotist who lowered his prone body to the stage.
“Fuck!” exclaimed Josh.
“Pretty crazy, huh?” asked the hypnotist, rising to his feet again. Josh nodded.
“I need you to do me a favor and not fall forward like that, okay?” continued the hypnotist. Josh nodded, seemingly not comprehending what that meant for him. “Great. Just remain standing, and sleep,” said the hypnotist, reaching out and tapping Josh in the middle of the forehead. Josh’s eyelids fluttered for a second, as if unsure, then quickly dropped closed, his head rolling down to rest against his chest. Otherwise, just as the hypnotist had requested, he remained standing, body perfectly erect, as though he had somehow fallen asleep on his feet.
“Awesome, great job. Let’s see, who else do we have up here?” said the hypnotist, surveying the stage. I glanced around, lazily. The alt guy, Ant, still dressed in women’s underwear, had taken a seat a few spots down, in the chair I think had previously belonged to Dylan, and Len and Hector were at the other end of the row, both looking weirdly placid. Aside from Kyle sitting on the floor, moving his mouth around strangely and still looking a bit dazed, that was it—everyone else was either sprawled out in a chair on asleep on the ground (or, in Josh’s case, standing!).
“All right, cool…” he said, stooping down and grabbing a few articles of clothing off the stage. He then strode back over to the middle of the row. “You doing any better, Kyle?”
“I don’t know what’s going on…” he mumbled. “I still feel really… violated.”
“Because of the hypnosis?”
In a flash, Kyle scrambled to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth and—seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was also completely naked—yelling, “I’VE GOT A DILDO IN MY ASS AND IT FEELS GREAT!!”
“Sleeeeep, man,” the hypnotist cooed, reaching behind Kyle and giving him a tug on the opposite shoulder, pulling him sideways into his chest. Kyle’s legs buckled and he slumped sideways, the hypnotist’s torso just barely keeping him upright as he skillfully lowered him into the empty chair next to Jake.
Turning slightly, the hypnotist next reached out and placed a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, which heaved with gentle breaths as he rested against Jake. “Just the person I’m touching down, wide awake at the count of three… two… one…”
Snap.
Ryan rose up, blinking rapidly and looking over at the sleeping Jake as though he’d fallen asleep on a sack of dirty laundry. “What the fuck…?” he muttered.
“To everyone up here who’s still awake!” said the hypnotist, turning so he could yell clearly at everyone assembled. “I’ve found another lost garment, if anyone thinks they might be missing somethi—”
“Dude, god DAMN IT!” said Ryan, reaching out and tugging on the hypnotist’s vest. “How the fuck did you get my underwear?”
“I don’t know, man, some crazy shit’s been going on tonight…” said the hypnotist. “These yours?” he asked, holding up a pair of tighty whities I somehow knew were Arpit’s.
“Yeah, fucking give them to me,” said Ryan, snatching them from the hypnotist’s hand. He rose to his feet and stepped into them, having a tough time tugging them up his thick, muscular legs. Arpit’s underwear fit so snugly Ryan couldn’t even get them up to his waist properly—not that he was helped by the strange combination of undergarments he was already wearing, which looked to be one pair of baggy boxer shorts peeking out from inside another. With the tighty whities on, these clashing patterns of checkered fabric poked out around the legs ludicrously, and filled out the briefs so it looked like he was wearing a comically full diaper.
“Better now?” asked the hypnotist.
“Yes!” said Ryan, plopping down in a huff.
“Now,” said the hypnotist, turning to everyone again, “I’ve also got this pair here—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Ryan yelled, rising to his feet again and snatching yet another pair of underwear—this time a pair of white Calvin Klein boxer briefs that belonged to Len—from the hypnotist’s hand.
“HOW DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?” Ryan yelled, shaking the underwear at the hypnotist.
“Dude, I just find these, I don’t—” the hypnotist started.
“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” Ryan sputtered, again stooping and pulling the pair of underwear on. This one fit just as tightly as the last, and bulged out ludicrously with all the extra fabric inside. Ryan plopped back down.
“Now, I hesitate to ask, but I did find one last pair—” started the hypnotist.
“SHIT!!” Ryan bellowed, flying to his feet and yanking this next pair of underwear from the hypnotist’s hand. This one was a pair of silky black boxers that I knew from this morning in the hotel belonged to Hector. It was crazy watching my friend act like this. He seemed certifiably psycho, snatching every pair of underwear the hypnotist held up and dutifully pulling it on, no matter whether it belonged to a friend or a complete stranger! (I wasn’t entirely sure myself which was worse…)
“You are a FUCKING pervert, man! You pull that shit one more time and I’m gonna call the police!” Ryan said, yanking the boxers up his legs and awkwardly plopping into his seat one more time. Though Hector was a little closer to Ryan’s size and the boxers fit decently, the tighter underwear underneath constrained his movements, causing him to move awkwardly, and also made the nice, silky boxers bulge out in a lumpy mess, though the tighter pairs of underwear beneath actually kept everything else constrained inside.
The hypnotist strode across the stage and grabbed one of Arpit’s sandals from the neat little pile of his clothes he had made earlier, before his and Kyle’s strange photo shoot / strip show, walked back to Ryan and handed it over to him, saying, “Here you go, man, call away.”
Looking up at him with a look of defiant contempt, Ryan grabbed the shoe, reached down, jabbed his finger at the sole a few times, and then, unbelievably, pressed it against his ear and cheek as though it was an actual phone! The hypnotist held out his mic. Why was Ryan playing along with this?
After a few awkward seconds of silence, Ryan muttered icily, “It’s ringing.” The audience giggled as the hypnotist shrugged, looking nonchalant.
“Yeah, hello, 911?” Ryan started, eliciting another round of chuckles from the audience. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t know the number for the local police. I’ve got a guy here I want to report to you. He’s a fucking sex pervert. He keeps stealing my clothes.”
“You realize now the person on the other end only speaks Swahili,” said the hypnotist, quickly bringing the mic back to his mouth and snapping. Just as quickly, he held it back toward Ryan.
“Hello? HELLO??” asked Ryan, suddenly turning noticeably frustrated. “HELLO?? Does anyone there speak fucking English?? Can you put me on with your manager? Ma- MANAGER! MANAGER! Fucking unbelievable!” He threw the “phone” down in disgust.
“What’s up?” asked the hypnotist.
“You’re just lucky that fucking asshole didn’t speak any goddamn English—” Ryan started.
“Oh look,” interrupted the hypnotist, stooping down. “Did anybody lose a shoe—”
“YOU ARE FUCKING SHITTING ME!!!” Ryan screamed as the audience roared with laughter.
“Sleeeep…” cooed the hypnotist, tapping Ryan on the forehead as he lunged forward, sending him collapsing into his own lap. The audience burst into applause and further gales of laughter as the hypnotist rose back to his feet.
“How about that?” asked the hypnotist, turning toward Ant, who was seated just a few chairs away.
“That’s fucked up, man…”
“You think I could get you to wear somebody else’s clothes?” asked the hypnotist.
“I’d like to see you try,” said Ant, eliciting a wave of chuckles from the audience.
“Just wait, it gets better…” said the hypnotist, striding back toward the other end of the row.
“You having fun up here, Len?” he said, finally stopping before the Asian guy sitting next to Hector, who was still dressed in tights and a tutu.
“I guess,” he said. “It’s fun to watch. But I’ve just been sitting here…” He smiled a little.
“We’ll fix that,” said the hypnotist. “Sleep…” He tapped the guy on his forehead and his head instantly rolled back, eyelids fluttering shut and mouth gaping open as though he’d been asleep for hours.
“This next command is only for the subjects I’m tapping on the shoulder,” said the hypnotist. “You’re number one…” he said, gently patting Len. “Number two and number three,” he said, squatting and squeezing the shoulders of first Parker and then Paul, both sprawled on the ground. “Number four,” he said, after striding across the stage and pressing a hand against the shoulder of Jake. “And finally number five,” he continued, striding back to the front of the stage and touching Josh, who was still standing deep asleep.
“Just these five guys. In a moment, when the next piece of music begins to play, you’re going to realize you are the hottest name in adult entertainment for women—the Chippendale Dancers! When the next song begins, you’re going to spread out at the front of the stage, moving to the music, bumping and grinding and taking it all off!” The audience burst into applause at the mention of “all.”
“That’s right—because this is a private establishment, this strip is going to be a complete and total full monty.” Again, the audience hollered and cheered. “You’ll have absolutely no inhibitions, because you’ve been working on your bodies for years and are in peak physical form. At the count of three, that music’s going to begin, and each and every one of you will spread out and give us the sexiest strip-tease this audience has ever seen! At the count of one! Two! Three!”
Immediately as the hypnotist finished his count, that “If You Want My Body” song started to play and all five guys that the hypnotist had touched opened their eyes, taking deep breaths in and, in the case of everyone but Josh, rising and moving toward the front of the stage.
By the time the other four guys were up front, Josh was already well ahead of them, having yanked off his shirt and placed it between his legs, between which he was pulling it back and forth in stereotypical amateur stripper fashion.
Striding confidently beside him, Len was gyrating his thin stomach in and out, pulling off his already open dress shirt to reveal the scrawny, tan torso underneath. On the other side, little Jake was dancing awkwardly while Parker and Paul both teasingly tugged up at the bottom of their shirts—a particularly funny act in Paul’s case, as he seemed unaware he had no pants on underneath, with his penis already flopping around as he danced.
Parker was the first to doff his top, revealing a surprisingly defined torso—not exactly cut, but showing a fair amount of natural exercise or athletics. Paul’s came next, which ironically made him the first to complete the promised full strip. Looking down, he seemed to notice that there was nothing left for him to take off, but he just shrugged, grinned, and went straight back to dancing, strutting closer to the front of the stage and gyrating more obscenely than before. Jake, off to the side, finally slipped off his Hollister shirt, revealing a pale, slender torso with small abdominals defined only by virtue of his body having so little fat.
Seemingly trying to hold his place as leader of the pack, Josh whipped off his undershirt, stepped out of his sandals and strode closer to the front of the stage, unbuckling his belt as he moved his hips to the music. Not to be outdone, Len followed beside him, unzipping his pants and putting his hands behind his head, letting the gyrations of his hips carry them slowly down from his waist. In both guys’ cases, I was surprised to see, from my vantage point behind them, the slowly dropping pants revealing the pale orbs of their ass, neither having apparently bothered to put on underwear. (I was confused by this, as I distinctly remembered Josh walking around the hotel room in his boxer briefs, but I couldn’t argue with my eyes.)
Realizing he was being out-performed, Parker quickly unbuckled his belt and yanked his pants down as well—not exactly the most sensual strip, but effective. Incredibly, I realized he too had been going commando. What was with these guys? Did hypnosis shows inherently attract people who hate underwear?
Josh, Len and Parker all kicked out of their pants and joined Paul in gyrating nude at the front of the stage. Off to the side, Jake was slowly, self-consciously beginning to unbuckle his jeans, slipping them down around his ankles more like he was undressing for gym class than performing a striptease. Nevertheless, despite his apparent bashfulness, I couldn’t help but notice he, too, wasn’t wearing underwear…
Aside from Jake, the rest of the guys appeared to be total attention whores, each gyrating at the front of the stage next to each other while flexing, rubbing their chests and legs, and even—in Parker’s case—flexing and kissing a bicep. Suddenly, from over the thunderous music, I heard the booming voice of the hypnotist, reminding me that I hadn’t actually wandered into a nude review, but was still at a hypnosis show…
“Ladies and gentlemen, as a special surprise, we now present our sixth and final dancer… The luscious… The gorgeous… The incomparable… Uh, what’s your name again?” I looked over toward where the voice was coming from and saw the hypnotist standing next to Ryan, now suddenly awake and with a microphone pressed to his lips.
“Cum Dumpster,” he said, proudly. The audience burst into even wilder hysterics and cheers.
“Cummmmm Dummmmpster!” yelled the hypnotist in mock wrestling announcer fashion as Ryan proudly rose from his seat, arms raised in the air, and strode toward the front of the stage, pushing his way between Josh and Paul and striding closest to the audience.
Used to both showing off for others and getting off on himself, putting on a striptease was little problem for Ryan, and he began by flexing and contorting to show off his arm and leg muscles, well defined from years of football practice. No one seemed to notice the slightly wobbly quality to his step, caused, I presumed, by the multiple pairs of tight underwear he was wearing.
Speaking of which—as the song continued, Ryan’s hands crept down past his pecs and washboard abs toward the waistband of the first set of boxers, slipping them off and down his legs. Pressing his knees together so he could actually step out of them (because of the briefs underneath), Ryan kicked them into the audience before pointing and giving a smoldering stare to their recipient, around whom the crowd started cheering especially wildly.
The next couple pairs of briefs quickly followed suit, first one, then the other, each one also launched into the crowd with a wink, a nod, and a smile that could melt butter. Meanwhile, I noticed the hypnotist slowly slinking up on the side of the stage, sidling up to the finally naked Jake and, placing one hand behind his back for support and another against his forehead, tugging the boy’s head back and body down, sending him sprawling into the hypnotist’s chest and apparently once more to sleep, where he was lowered gently to the floor.
The hypnotist continued doing this with the other gyrating members of the strip review, possibly in order of attractiveness or physical fitness, taking out first Paul, then Len, then Parker. Just as Ryan’s final pair of underwear came down—a baggy, checkered pair of boxers that I think once belonged to Ant—Josh was similarly conked out, getting slowly lowered to the stage floor with the rest as the audience burst into cheers at Ryan’s renewed nakedness.
Stooping downward, Ryan picked up the loose-fitting boxers and began swinging them around one finger, seemingly prepared to launch them as well into the audience. However, the hypnotist, sliding up behind him, instead leaned in and whispered into his ear for a little bit, sealing the deal with a snap of his fingers. While the hypnotist didn’t raise the microphone for this particular bit, it nevertheless seemed to do the trick, as Ryan grabbed the last pair of underwear tighter to keep it from flying off and then quickly slid it over his head. Apparently at first trying to make a hat, the looseness of the waistband caused the underwear to slide down and Ryan ended up pulling his head through one of the leg holes, grinning a million-dollar grin and giving the fabric a toss around his neck like a jaunty scarf.
At just that moment, a spotlight came up, blinking to life at the front of the stage and better illuminating Ryan as he gracefully jumped off the edge and landed on the floor, continuing to gyrate as he made his way through the tables among the crowd, stopping to bump and grind against a number of people seated close to the stage, both men and women alike.
Just as the song was reaching its conclusion, and Ryan, apparently completely oblivious to what he was doing, was shaking his ass in the lap of a guy who looked like he was in his mid-to-late 50s, the music suddenly switched off, and one more spotlight popped on to even better illuminate Ryan’s humiliation. His eyes going wide, Ryan’s mouth plunged open and his cheeks transformed almost immediately into a blazing shade of scarlet as both his hands clapped down to cover his free-swinging genitals. In all my years knowing him, I’d never seen Ryan look like this. I’d seen him disgusted, pissed off, angry, enraged, and even apoplectic, but I’d never, not once, seen him embarrassed.
Frozen in panic for a seemingly endless second, Ryan finally whirled around and bolted toward the stage, tearing across the lowered front area of the bar and launching himself onto the stage with a flying leap!
“Sleep! Sleep!” cried the hypnotist, just as Ryan cleared the front of the stage, and Ryan’s body collapsed mid-sprint, sprawling forward and tumbling into a pile of naked flesh with several of the other members of his “dance troupe,” his chest and a free arm rolling loosely onto Josh’s bare back, one leg resting on the floor and another sprawled across Parker’s naked buttock.
“And then there were three…” the hypnotist intoned ominously as the audience burst into laughter and applause. I looked around. Holy shit! He was right. The only ones of us still awake were me, Hector (all the way down at the other end of the row, who hadn’t moved since the start of the show), and that alt guy, Ant. And, in fact, aside from Sam, sprawled out in his underwear on a couple chairs next to me, the three of us were the only guys left seated as well—everybody else was crumpled all over the stage.
“So, what do you think, Mike?” asked the hypnotist, picking his way through the piles of bodies to step closer beside me. “Your boy Ryan sure knows how to dance.”
“This is fucked…” I muttered. I couldn’t believe it. I was in shock. Maybe there was something to this hypnosis shit after all.
“Bet you’re glad you weren’t just doing that, huh?” the hypnotist continued.
I nodded dumbly. My brain was so overwhelmed trying to process everything that I couldn’t possibly think of a clever comeback.
“That’d be pretty embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Stripping out of all your clothes like that?” I nodded again. I really was glad he hadn’t made me part of the strip routine. Taking off all my clothes in front of a roomful of strangers seemed horrifyingly degrading. In fact, part of me the entire time was convinced that if it had been me, I wouldn’t have done it—I still didn’t feel hypnotized! But based on the evidence I had just seen, I was certain I didn’t want to start playing with fire…
“You don’t want to do anything embarrassing like that, do you, Mike?”
I shook my head one more time, just as stupidly. “No…”
“Aw, that’s too bad,” cooed the hypnotist. “You look like a pretty brave guy and you’ve got a hot body.” How the fuck did he know what my body looked like? “I certainly wouldn’t have taken you for a… chicken.”
I blinked, looking up at him. There was something that seemed important about that word he said. Who the fuck was this guy? Was he the farmer? And why was I roosting? Had I just laid an egg? I pulled my hands up under my armpits to adjust my wings and decided to get up out of my nest. Letting out of soft “bwack” into the long thing the man was holding, I rose to my feet in a squat and began to make my way forward, hoping I might find some old seed lying on the ground. “Bwuk, bwuk, bwuk…” I muttered, crouching and strutting, occasionally jutting my head forward to see if there was any loose seed. For some reason, the ground was covered with all sorts of objects I had to step around that made things very inconvenient.
I continued to cluck quietly as I went about my search. I don’t know what the hypnotist had done to me beforehand and it would be hard to describe my mental state in this moment. While part of me was very much focused on emulating the movements of a chicken—making sure I was squatting in a chicken-like posture, being sure to periodically kick my feet out behind me to scratch in the imagined dust, flapping my wings, etc.—the majority of my conscious mind seemed like it had gone totally blank, and was focused solely on making my way around my new, unfamiliar environment while looking for food that a small, microscopic nugget of my consciousness way in the back of my head realized would not be there. This small part of me had seemed to ebb and flow throughout the show, growing weaker and stronger but never rising above maybe 2% of my total functioning—it was dimly aware that I, a human male 21 years old, capable of driving a car and filling out student loan applications, was currently crouched and pecking around a stage, emitting clucking noises and looking for food that did not exist (I’m not sure if it realized at the time that I was also nearly naked and wearing a stranger’s underwear—that part of my reality seemed surprisingly and unfortunately easy to forget…). However, for some reason the bridge between that reality and me taking any kind of action just wasn’t there. It’s like occasionally stopping to realize that money is just bullshit printed on paper, but that understanding never really affecting your behavior if you see a pile of it lying in the street. Mostly I was in something of a zen state, focused only on finding food and trying to maintain the posture and behavior of a good little chicken.
Clucking past a large pile of things toward the center of the stage, I was dimly aware of something else moving near me, and judging from its similar clucks I figured that it must be a member of my same species. In the background, the farmer was saying something and speaking to another person. I soon heard another soft set of “clucks” begin to start behind me, and worried about further competition for my precious feed.
After what seemed like quite a while clucking and pecking, I finally felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and heard the farmer speak again, saying, “Just the chicken I’m touching now, returning to normal at the count of one… two… three.” Snap.
I blinked my eyes, looking around. What the fuck was going on? I was standing in the middle of a stage surrounded by piles of prone, naked bodies. Some guy was standing next to me, and nearby a couple other people were strutting around in a strange position, clucking and making noises like a couple of chickens.
“What’s going on, Mike?” asked the man next to me, who I quickly recognized as the guy from that hypnotist show.
“Fuck…” I muttered, shaking my head as everything suddenly came flooding back to me—squatting just like those other two, hands under my armpits, pecking and making clucking noises in front of a roomful of people. Come to think of it—shit. That one guy was Ant, the skinny alt dude from the hypnosis show (didn’t matter much), and the other was Hector (mattered a lot). Blinking and looking more closely, I realized Ant was for some reason dressed in a black bra and panties, while Hector was shirtless and wearing a tutu and tights—unfortunately with nothing underneath. Both looked absolutely ridiculous, and I couldn’t even imagine how humiliating it would be for either of them to, like me, realize what exactly they were doing.
“Who’s wearing it better?” asked the hypnotist, to tittering from the audience. I just blinked in a disbelieving daze. “Hey Mike,” he said. I looked over at him again. “Look what you’re wearing.” He snapped.
Holy shit! I yanked my head down to (needlessly) confirm and immediately slapped my hands over my crotch, ironically the only part of my body that was covered (by the tiniest pair of striped designer briefs—I didn’t even remember buying these!). Suddenly, the realization hit me like a lightning bolt that everything I had just realized I’d been doing I’d also been doing in my (was it mine?) underwear, in front of a room full of people. I blushed bright crimson and squatted down, trying to disappear into the floor, as the entire dark room burst into laughter and applause. I was mortified. Somehow, beyond even compounding my humiliation at what I’d realized earlier, it was like this new knowledge made me realize it finally, for real this time, and it actually hit me that I must have looked almost as stupid as Hector and Ant. I thought about running offstage and diving behind the curtains, but I was paralyzed with shock, trapped frozen in front of the entire room, just like Ryan a minute or two before.
“Just freeze like that,” said the hypnotist nonchalantly, snapping his fingers, and suddenly paralysis became my entire reality—even as I tried to move, I now found I couldn’t, my face and nearly naked body locked as though frozen in time.
“Poor Mike, he’s just too much fun to play with…” mused the hypnotist, his tone clearly intended to rub it in. I was trapped in a living nightmare—completely exposed and unable to move an inch to extricate myself. I wanted to cry, but my paralysis prevented me from doing even that…
“Just the chicken I’m touching now, follow me up to the front of the stage…” Into the corner of my peripheral vision stepped the hypnotist and Ant, Ant’s scrawny arms still folded up in makeshift wings as he scratched and bobbed his head, emitting loud clucks into the microphone.
“Release! Wide awake,” said the hypnotist, snapping his fingers in front of Ant’s face. From my frozen vantage, I couldn’t see any of his expressions, but it was clear from his movement that he was similarly bewildered and stunned like I had been, shaking his head and taking a step back.
“What the fuck am I doing…?” he muttered, pulling his fists out of his armpits and staring at them like alien objects.
“I don’t know man, but for some reason you and Mike continue to insist on making a spectacle of yourselves…” said the hypnotist.
The audience tittered expectantly. Immediately Ant swiveled and turned his back to them, bending over at the waist and pulling down the tight pair of lacy black panties covering his ass. From my vantage point, I could see the (familiar?) blank expression on his face as he stared ahead, seemingly doing whatever he was doing robotically. His panties being as small as they were, I could also see a healthy dose of the top of his cock and pubes peeking out from under the black fronts. For some reason, however, I realized that the most important thing right now was to go around front and kiss that gorgeous ass.
Suddenly unlocked from where I was crouching (apparently running on autopilot), I made my way to the front of the stage. Striding forward, I kneeled and immediately pressed my face into it, giving that gorgeous, rosy cheek (why did those words seem familiar?) a kiss like it was the most beautiful woman in the world.
Standing back up, I knew it was time to go sit down, and I felt a stirring behind me before it was quickly stilled with a whispered comment of, “Freeze now, stuck in that position. And in fact, just let your head drop down and… SLEEP.” I didn’t pay much attention. I was heading back to my seat where I belonged.
“That’s good, Mike,” I heard from behind me, like a vague fog. “When you butt hits that chair you go right to sleep too.” Whatever. Right now I needed to sit down. No time to think beyond that.
Weaving through the scattered bodies around the stage, I finally located my chair—right next to the prone body of Sam, just where I left it—turned around and plopped down. Immediately, I felt a wave of relaxation flow over me and I slumped over, collapsing onto the form beside me.