MIKE THE SOMNAMBULIST
Act 2 (Part 4B)
by StageShowMM
My head dropped the second he touched me, eyes closing instantly. It was like all the energy drained out of me in a second, and I couldn’t have kept my head up or my eyes open if I’d tried. For some reason, though, it didn’t occur to me to fall. I simply lowered my head and went to my happy place, taking deep breaths and waiting for a voice to guide me.
It didn’t take long. I immediately felt a hand on my shoulder and recognized the voice as someone I wanted to follow. It was telling me to step forward, and I did so blindly, eyes still closed, shuffling. Next the voice began to speak to me about how when I next opened my eyes, I would see the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. This person would be the most gorgeous, attractive person on the face of the earth, and I wouldn’t be able to resist wrapping my arms around them, running my hands over them, kissing them more deeply and passionately than I’d ever kissed anyone before. The voice asked if I understood and I nodded my head. I could almost taste it already.
The hand was removed and I heard a bit of shuffling, as well as some speaking that didn’t matter because it wasn’t for me. All I could think about was meeting this person... how happy and romantic I would feel. After a few moments, I felt the hand press against my shoulder again, and the voice speaking gently in my ear—“Open your eyes, Mike, and fall totally in love... now.”
There was a gentle snap. My eyes popped open. In front of me stood the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
It was weird, because it wasn’t like it didn’t look like Josh, more like I’d completely forgotten who Josh was. It was like I was seeing him for the first time, and he was a complete stranger—just a beautiful, beautiful man I’d met on the street. I’d never been attracted to a man before (I don’t think), and so part of me was thinking of girls I liked at the same time—how soft and pretty they would feel and how much I loved to hold them—but then it was like I was painting these feelings over Josh, so that when I looked at him, I still saw him like normal, but it just seemed natural to kiss and caress him, and I didn’t think for a second about the fact that he was a guy, or we were friends, or that I even knew him at all.
Stepping forward, I wrapped myself around Josh’s torso, his strong, firm body feeling good in my arms. At the same time, I felt his arms wrap around me, gentle yet muscular, cool from being naked so long in the open air. I looked into his gorgeous eyes and reached up, resting my left hand on the small of his back as I pressed my head in for a kiss. Our lips connected and it felt like fireworks going off. His parted and my tongue slipped inside. I felt his tongue fighting against mine, caressing it, wrestling with it, before slipping into my mouth, an alien presence that nevertheless felt warm and comforting.
My eyes closed. I continued to kiss, wrapping his top or bottom lip between my two before pulling away, slipping my tongue back in, letting his take control. Somehow, with my eyes closed, it was so easy to just keep kissing, to focus on the sensation and the love and forget about everything, who I was kissing and whether it was a boy or a girl, my friend or a stranger. I was just in love—in love with my lover and in love with sensation. And it was sensational.
My hands slowly mapped the terrain of Josh’s body, sliding all over his back, up his sides, down and around his firm thighs and buttocks. I even reached my left arm under his at one point (how I thrilled at grazing his lower triceps!) and slid it back over, resting it on his shoulder as my hand cradled the nape of his neck, pulling him close as I kissed deeper, more passionately, tongue exploring the furthest depths of his wet, pink orifice.
I have no idea how long we spent like that, two friends, locked in a passionate (naked) embrace in the middle of the stage. It at once felt like forever and a heartbeat—I could have gone on kissing for years. Yet after that undetermined amount of time, I somehow noticed another voice intruding on my thoughts, fading in at the periphery of my consciousness... “...awake at the count of three with no idea what you’re doing—one... two... three.”
Snap. I blinked my eyes and opened them. Who was I- Fuck!
“DUDE!” Josh screamed, stumbling back.
I reached up and rubbed my hand over my mouth, clawing my fingers inside like I’d just tasted shit.
“What the fuck?!” I yelled.
“What’s going on, boys?” asked someone stepping in from the side. After a few (very distracted) moments, I realized it was the hypnotist.
“The fuck were you kissing me?!” Josh yelled.
“You kissed me, fag!” I screamed. What the fuck? My brain was roiling trying to process what was going on. I had no idea Josh was gay—and how had he gotten me to kiss him? I couldn’t quite believe that word had slipped out of me, but in my anger, I wasn’t really thinking about it. It was embarrassing to realize, though.
“Calm down, guys, calm down... I wouldn’t want either one of you making a SPECTACLE.”
For some reason it struck me as strange that the hypnotist basically seemed to yell that random word. Looking around, I noticed that alt guy, Ant, turning around so his back was to the audience. Bending over, he pulled down a pair of lacy black panties he was wearing (huh?), revealing the pale moons of his naked butt. For some reason, I couldn’t put my finger on why this scenario seemed so familiar, or why his two ass cheeks seemed so strangely appealing...
Noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josh striding across the stage. Part of me wondered if he was about to deck Ant. Josh was a party animal, but he also had a sore spot for disrespect. I didn’t know if maybe he thought the guy was mooning him, or perhaps thought he was just disrespecting the whole room, but I was a little worried they might come to blows.
What happened next was far more peculiar, though. Instead of decking Ant or doing anything of the kind, Josh knelt down behind him and pressed his face directly into Ant’s ass cheek, planting a long, slow, wet kiss on the naked alt boy’s butt. I cringed in disgust. What the fuck was with Josh tonight? Was he drunk or on drugs or something? Was that what was bringing out some sort of long-repressed gay side? I’d never seen him behave like this.
“How ’bout that, Mike?” asked the hypnotist, throwing an arm over my shoulder. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the forced familiarity, but as in most social situations, I let it slide.
“What the fuck...?” was all I could mutter into his mic. I was flabbergasted. Josh seemed to be going nuts.
“You ever seen him do that before?”
I shook my head.
“Release!” the hypnotist yelled. Josh immediately stood up, walked back over to a chair in the row toward the back of the stage, plunked down in a seat and collapsed, body melting and head rolling to hang over the back of the seat. Meanwhile, Ant pulled his panties back up (seriously, why was he wearing panties?) and seemed to come to his senses.
Or so I thought. Looking around as though about to sneak a handful of sweets out of the candy jar, Ant instead squatted down and crawled over to Josh, then stuffed his face in between Josh’s legs and started huffing his hairy ballsack. Gross as it would have been under any circumstance, it was doubly disgusting given the fact that Josh was still (still?) naked...
“What the fuck is going on?” asked the hypnotist. “Does he do that often?”
I shook my head.
“That’s funny. I sort of assumed all you frat guys spent most of your time making out.”
I gave him a look and was about to say something, when I noticed he was gesturing toward another section of chairs at the back of the stage. Following his hand, my eyes settled on something I never would’ve imagined seeing in a million years. There, sitting on a couple chairs in the middle of the stage, were Ryan and Hector, locked in a passionate embrace.
Ryan was totally naked as far as I could tell, and was running his hands over Hector’s broad shoulders and back. Hector was dressed strangely—shirtless from the waist down, with what appeared to be a frilly pink tutu around his waist and leggings stretched across his muscular thighs. Hector had his bare arms wrapped tightly around Ryan’s broad torso as he caressed his back. Their arms, crossed over each other, formed an undulating interplay of white on tan. Further up, their mouths did the same, pressing together in a passionate kiss, tongues sliding sensually between each other’s lips, battling for supremacy.
That was it. Something was going on. Ryan would never in a million years have done something like this of his own volition. You couldn’t pay him enough. Hector I didn’t think would either, but Ryan I knew. Something was up.
“What the fuck is happening...?” I said in astonishment. It was like seeing an alien spacecraft for the first time.
“They’re hypnotized,” the guy said matter-of-factly. I stared in disbelief. He was a hypnotist. I guess that was his job description. It wasn’t that I doubted that, just that I didn’t believe any of this bullshit really worked. But the proof was right there in front of me. My friend Ryan was sitting, not 12 feet away from me, willingly doing something I knew I couldn’t get him to do in a million years, for any amount of money. If I’d thought harder about it, I’m sure I would have found it completely horrifying, but I was so blown away I couldn’t do anything more than just stand agape.
I guess sensing he wasn’t going to get much more of a reaction out of me, the hypnotist continued: “Everyone on stage is.” He gestured again, more broadly this time, like a Willy Wonka of perversion beckoning me into some unwelcome garden of delights. I looked more broadly around me. All over the stage, people—some I recognized, some I wasn’t sure if I did or not—were doing strange and bewildering things.
Josh, as I mentioned, was at the end of the row of chairs, head back and looking like he was napping as Ant nuzzled in his crotch, his flaccid dick rolling all over Ant’s face as Ant dug in to smell his balls.
Next to them, I recognized the two twin hipsters, Jay and Sam. Each had turned his chair 90 degrees, so it was facing the other. Both were naked (hadn’t they been wearing something before?) and both had their feet in each other’s laps and were carefully painting each other’s toenails with brightly colored bottles of nail polish. Occasionally, each would smile and lift one of the other’s feet, sniffing it gently and then running his tongue across the surface. Again, I cringed. This was fucking disgusting.
Next to them was Dylan, also naked, simply sitting in his seat appearing to be asleep, head slumped forward into his chest and arms dangling at his sides. Beside him were Ryan and Hector, still kissing passionately, and in front of them stood Len, also naked, holding a dildo in each hand and waving them around like a traffic cop, gesticulating in one direction for a few seconds before turning 90 degrees and doing the same thing in another. Between his lips he clutched a little party noisemaker, which he would occasionally blow, causing it the flare out in the shape of a paper penis and emit an annoying slide-whistle sound. The goofy apparatus was a stark contrast to the seriousness with which he was undertaking his duties, his face a mask of concentration.
Next down the line were Parker and Kyle, both of whom were also naked and kneeling on a large towel, with a half-full bottle of clear liquid sitting in front of them. From the looks of things, it appeared to be oil, and each was lovingly smearing the other in the stuff, turning each other’s smooth, naked bodies glistening wet.
Next to these two sat Paul, in one of the last chairs in the row. He was simply staring ahead and alternately looking around curiously. Around his neck and over half of his face were what appeared to be a couple of jockstraps, one dangling like a necklace and the other with a pouch over one of his eyes like a face mask. From his mouth protruded what looked like a little puff of cotton and a small piece of string. After wracking my brain for a moment, I finally realized it was a tampon. Gross.
Next to Paul sat Arpit, similarly naked and similarly looking out of it. He too was staring straight forward, and aside from his nudity, the only thing strange about him was that his face was entirely white, caked with what looked like cream which was plastered on so thick, clumps of it had fallen onto his chest and thighs. Next to him sat a rolling metal cart full of pies, which were what I assumed had caused the mess all over his face—an assumption confirmed by a pair of scattered tins around his feet, largely empty of their contents and with most of the rest splattered on the floor. Arpit too just stared blankly, seeming completely unaware of how ridiculous he looked.
Finally, at the other end of the stage and toward the front, I recognized the spaced-out blond kid Jake, naked as well and rolling around in a pile of what looked like dirty laundry. He had the happiest look in the world and his tongue was hanging out, making him look like a complete idiot as he rolled around among the used underwear, socks and shirts.
“You ever see a stage full of hypnotized people?” asked the hypnotist.
“This is disgusting,” I said. “Make them stop. They don’t wanna do this.”
“They want what I tell them to want,” said the hypnotist, before asking loudly, “Hey Arpit, you hungry?”
Looking as if he was snapping out of a daze, Arpit reached over, grabbed one of the pies off the cart, and immediately blasted himself in the face with it. As he turned back around, the tin slowly slid off, finally rolling down to his lap and bouncing to the floor. Arpit blinked the cream out of his eyes and licked his lips, but otherwise seemed none the wiser about what just happened. The audience laughed hysterically.
“You’re hypnotized too, Mike,” the hypnotist added matter-of-factly.
“No fucking way. I’d know if I was hypnotized,” I balked.
“That’s about the last thing you’d know,” he said, pressing a finger gently against my forehead. “Eyes closed again, deep down.”
For some reason, what he said just felt right. My eyes slid closed instinctively and I remained standing, head bowing, focus turning entirely inward, except for a razor-sharp fixation on his words.
“Mike, when you open your eyes, you’re going to believe you’re the world’s most sadistic hypnotist. Everything these guys are doing up here is because of you, and you’re going to show us how truly twisted you can be with your next command. Only problem: any command you give one of these subjects, you’re also going to follow yourself. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded. This seemed silly. I could pretend to be a hypnotist. I could think up something ridiculous for someone else to do. For some reason the idea of following the commands myself seemed to remain in the back of my mind, somewhere just outside my consciousness. I’m not sure whether I thought I just wasn’t going to do that part or was purposefully ignoring it, but at the time it seemed completely irrelevant to me.
“Eyes open at the count of three. One, two, and... three.” Snap. I blinked.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen,” he continued. “I think you can all see Mike’s incredible hypnotic handiwork. Maybe if you give him one massive round of applause, he’ll show us how truly twisted the power of hypnosis can be. What do you say, Mike?”
The audience applauded and whistled. I almost blushed. It was really amazing having a roomful of people respond to your talent. After the years I’d spent training to be a hypnotist, it was gratifying.
“Thank you,” I said, patting the emcee on the shoulder and grabbing my mic back from him.
“As you see, the power of hypnosis can have incredible effects on an individual’s mind. Let’s see... who shall we use next...?” I scanned the subjects onstage. Most were already engaged in some kind of disgusting display I had engineered. Dylan was a promising victim, sitting there with his head drooped down, just begging to be manipulated. But Paul didn’t seem to be doing much more than just enjoying the tampon and jockstrap I’d given him... It would be very easy to knock him out and play with his mind, too. And perhaps a little more unexpected... Nevertheless, despite the extra flourish I could’ve given by putting Paul (or even Arpit!) back under, I ended up choosing Dylan, who just looked like too promising a victim to resist.
“Dylan here looks like he needs something to keep him occupied,” I said to the emcee, striding over to my new prey. “Dylan,” I continued, laying a hand on the sleeping boy’s shoulder, “When you awaken at the count of three, the following is going to be true: whenever you hear me say the words ‘Prank Time,’ you’re going to suddenly realize that the funniest thing in the world would be to dunk your balls in one of Arpit’s pies.” The audience tittered, letting me know I was headed in the right direction. But boy were they wrong if they thought I was done!
“When you hear that phrase, Dylan, you’re gonna saunter over to the cart by Arpit, grab one of his pies, and dunk your hairy balls all over the cream at the top.” The audience hooted and cheered, applauding wildly.
“But that’s not all! After you do that, you’ll place the pie back on the cart, as close as possible to Arpit, and then say the word ‘hungry,’ so he hits himself in the face with that pie.” The audience burst into laughter again as down the stage Arpit nailed himself once more at my mere mention of the word. I glanced over to watch the pie tin slowly slide down his face and roll off his naked body to the floor. Damn was I an evil hypnotist!
“The funny thing, though, Dylan, is that while you’re gonna find that hilarious, the second Arpit pies himself in the face, your balls are going to start to burn. That’s because, Dylan, the whipped cream on the top of those pies isn’t actually whipped cream—it’s Icy-Hot! All of a sudden, your balls are gonna start to burn like a motherfucker. You’ll start running around the stage yelling ‘My balls are on fire, my balls are on fire,’ ’til finally you realize the only way to fix it is to get the little puppy over on the side of the stage to lick off all the cream.” Half the audience gasped and the rest was cheering by this point. These motherfuckers wanted to see a XXX hypnosis show, I was gonna give it to them!
“Once all the cream is gone, Dylan, your balls go back to normal and you feel fine. But the minute you hear me say those words, ‘Prank Time,’ the whole thing happens all over again. Nod if you understand.” Dylan nodded. What a good boy.
“Excellent. At the count of three, Dylan, wide awake and remembering nothing. One, two... three.” Snap. Dylan popped up, blinking and opening his eyes.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Good...” he muttered, sounding confused. “What’s going on here?”
“I’m just having a little fun with some of the volunteers. Tell me, Dylan, do you like to play tricks on your friends?”
He shook his head. “Not really. Why?”
“Oh, no reason,” I said with a smirk and a knowing grin to the audience. “I was just wondering if it might not be... Prank Time.”
Dylan blinked, a sly smile creeping over his lips. It was the moment I’d been waiting for. Yet for some reason, despite knowing what he was about to do, I wasn’t nearly as excited as I expected myself to be a couple seconds ago. Instead, watching Dylan stand up and start creeping over to Arpit, I couldn’t help but realize that maybe my idea had been a little too good. Dunking my balls in one of Arpit’s pies would be fucking funny. Smirking myself, I walked alongside Dylan over to the cart and watched as he picked up a pie, placed it just below his junk and slowly lowered his balls, making sure to dunk his wrinkled scrotum deep into the forgiving cream.
Haha! I was so evil! This was funny as shit. I couldn’t wait to watch Arpit smear that nasty ball cream all over his unsuspecting face. Reaching down, I hooked my thumbs in my underwear and lowered them and my pants (my pants felt really light, almost like there was nothing there) down to my knees, so my dick and balls were hanging out in the cool air. “Slip those off, Mike, and hand them to me. You’re still fully dressed,” whispered the emcee, snapping his fingers. I blinked and did as I was told. It was great to have such a good assistant.
“Hungry,” said Dylan dreamily, just as I was grabbing a pie of my own. Like a good little hypno-slave, poor Arpit reached over robotically, grabbed the nearest pie—conveniently placed there by Dylan—and immediately shoved it in his face, the cream squishing out on all sides as the pie tin hung there for several seconds, prolonging his indignity.
Laughing my ass off along with Dylan (who was just about to get a nasty surprise of his own!), I lowered my balls into the pie I had grabbed, slowly, savoring the cool sensation of the cream as Dylan suddenly started to twist and groan uncomfortably. I made sure to teabag the pie repeatedly, trying to get my balls all over the upper surface, as Dylan went from groaning to an outright scream, starting to yell “My balls are on fire, my balls are on fire!” at the top of his lungs as he ran around the stage.
He was just dashing over to Jake as I finally set down my pie, saying to Arpit, “You like these pies, Arpit? I can’t believe you’re still… hungry,” adding a wicked grin.
Instinctively, Arpit grabbed the pie I’d placed beside him and again blasted himself in the face, spraying bits of excess cream on Paul’s left arm as the poor kid just continued to sit there, sucking on his tampon.
Starting to laugh, I unfortunately found my joy short-lived as I realized something terrible. Fuck! I hadn’t just suggested to Dylan there was Icy Hot in the pie cream... I had actually put some in before the start of the show! (Can’t hurt to goose the reactions a bit.) Shit. This was really going to come back on me now.
Already I could feel the burning sensation at the bottom of my ball sack, and it wasn’t long before—despite trying to fight it and maintain my composure—I was just like Dylan, running around the stage yelling, “My balls are on fire! My balls are on fire!” at the top of my lungs.
At last, it occurred to me that the only real solution was the one I’d suggested—I’d have to have the puppy lick it off. Dashing over to where Dylan was, I already found him in front of Jake, who was happily lapping away at the bottom of his balls as the whole audience chortled.
“Get outta my way, man! Come on, puppy!” I yelled, rubbing my creamy balls all over Jake’s face. Indifferent to whomever he was servicing, poor mindfucked Jake started lapping in all directions.
“Get outta here, man! I saw him first!” yelled Dylan, trying to elbow his way back in.
“Sleep!” I said, tapping him on the forehead and sending him crumpling to the ground in a heap. The audience burst into laughter. I barely noticed. Jake’s cool, wet tongue soon found its way back to my balls and I was in heaven, head thrown back, eyes closed, finally breathing a sigh of relief.
“That was pretty fucked up, Mike. You’re an amazing hypnotist,” I heard the emcee say, laying a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, feeling satisfied. Hopefully my little snafu hadn’t given up the game for the audience. I think Dylan still put on a pretty good show.
“Just remain standing right there. Sleep, Mike.”
The emcee snapped gently in my ear, and, my eyes already closed, my concentration drifting into nothingness...