The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Once again, I wasn’t asleep while I was “under.” I was aware of myself taking deep, relaxing breaths, letting out all the energy from my vigorous dance routines as I just focused on melting into the guy in front of me like butter into toast. I was aware that my cheek was resting against the smooth, silk fabric of his shirt, and how nice it felt, and of his long, lanky arms wrapping around to support me, keeping me from melting clean off him and to the floor. Based on some gasps and laughter I could just vaguely discern, I wondered if some of my fellow dancers had indeed fallen. But it was an idle thought, and I really didn’t care. All I wanted was to relax and go deeper, hugging this anchor in front of me.

I was aware the music had stopped, and of The Voice I Always Listened To speaking and giving instructions. On some level I was aware of what they were, and I was aware of myself smiling and nodding whenever it asked if we understood, though if you’d asked me a second later what it had said I don’t think I could’ve told you. I was aware of myself feeling amazing, just like The Voice said I would, and of the guy I was hanging onto reaching down and giving my butt cheeks a squeeze, and that I could vaguely make out the laughter of his companions. I was even aware of him reaching around and caressing my flaccid penis, which had flopped onto the sheer fabric of his slacks once I stopped grinding. For some reason, while there was a part of me that theoretically knew I should be upset about that—about someone touching my genitals without my permission—for some reason I didn’t really mind where he touched me or what he did. I just wanted to keep relaxing.

“…two, and three, wide awake now,” I slowly became cognizant of The Voice saying, and then there was a sudden snap. I was definitely aware of that.

“Guys, what the FUCK are you doing? GET UP HERE AND GET YOUR CLOTHES ON!”

I opened my eyes. Where was I?

Shit!

I leapt up in shock, for some reason instantly and keenly aware I was buck naked in the middle of The Audience. The audience for what I wasn’t sure—and for obvious reasons it didn’t matter now. I just knew I had to find my clothes, and quick. This was a nightmare!

Almost before my mind knew what I was doing I was dashing through the tables to the stage, in an instant forgetting completely about the laughing man I’d just been clutching. All around me there was laughter and commotion, and I was peripherally aware of similar mad dashes all through the audience. I saw this Indian guy’s naked, scrawny ass in front of me, and off to my left a naked little hipster dude stumbling through the chairs.

Finally breaking out from among the tables, I bolted at breakneck speed and dove straight onto the stage, avoiding the bottleneck by the stairs as another couple naked dudes—was one of them Ryan??—stumbled up.

There were gasps and shocked laughter from my dive, but I seriously just wanted to get out of the limelight as quickly as possible. I couldn’t for the life of me understand what was going on—how had I ended up buck naked in the middle of a public auditorium?

Glancing around, I thankfully noticed my underwear nearby—the pair closest to me, which I had somehow just known they would be—and I quickly stooped and grabbed them, stepping into the tight white boxer briefs and pulling them up to cover myself. Continuing to search for the rest of my outfit, I noticed the stage was littered with clothes—something I guess made sense considering it was now crowded with at least ten naked men, all hunting for their own articles of clothing.

Noticing the majority of the clothes seemed concentrated in a large pile toward one side of the stage, I joined the slowly-growing group of guys looking for my things. Like me, it seemed most of them had had the best luck finding their underwear, though for a number it seemed at-odds with the rest of their ensemble: that alt dude, Ant, was pulling on his dollar-store black wifebeater over a pair of colorful designer briefs, for example, while hipster Dylan was pulling his tight jeans over blue-and-green checked boxers so baggy they barely seemed to fit inside.

Nevertheless, any poor choice of attire was these guys’ problem, not mine, and so I redoubled my efforts looking for the rest of my clothes, secure in the fact that at least I had found my underwear. Finally, right near one of Jake’s tiny feet, I spied the tan fabric of my cargo shorts, and I quickly reached out and plucked them from the pile, pulling them on with a sigh of relief. Still missing my shirt, I at least wasn’t any more uncovered than I’d probably be for most of Spring Break, so I felt like a great burden had been lifted off my mind (which still didn’t quite have the bandwidth to begin analyzing how I’d gotten into this situation in the first place!). I couldn’t help but notice as well, as I reached past Jake, that he seemed to be wearing a pair of black silk boxers so baggy he could barely keep them on without holding them up, which left the poor guy stumbling around even worse than the rest of us as he sought out his clothes.

As more and more things began to disappear from the mess and slide onto people’s bodies, it became easier to find the rest of my effects. My tank eventually emerged toward the bottom of the pile, and my sandals appeared soon after. It was a relief to slide them on my feet.

Apparently having beaten most everyone (probably due to my mad dash), I pushed past Paul, wearing a plain white t-shirt and tight red boxer briefs, and apparently still looking for his pants. With everyone milling about, it seemed like the most obvious thing was to get out of the way, so I pecked through some of the scattered vestments back to the row of chairs. I noticed a few guys—Jay or Sam, Dylan, and Josh—had already taken seats and were slumped forward, heads bowed as though in sleep. Spotting me as I approached, this guy standing behind the chairs motioned to one at the far end of the row—the direct mirror of Josh, who was on the other side—and said, “Take a seat right there, Mike. You’ll feel much more comfortable.”

To be honest, they all seemed the same to me, but it was easier to comply. Heading to the far end of the row, I turned around, plopped down, and immediately felt my head fall forward, eyes closing and mind going blank, focused only on ridding itself of any and all thought…

A while passed while my eyes remained closed. I was aware of people continuing to shuffle around me, of someone else eventually sitting beside me, someone sitting beside him, and so on… Mostly, however, I remained focused on taking deep breaths in and out, in and out… It was so relaxing to breathe in and out… Just focus on the breathing… So peaceful and rhythmic.

I was aware of my wrists resting on my thighs, fingers lightly brushing the base of the chair beneath me. Aware of how my head hung forward as though I had fallen asleep in a car on a road trip. Aware of how the gentle rhythm of my breathing relaxed me more and more, and how the soft pull of gravity dragged my ever-loosening muscles down… down… until I finally collapsed on myself, doubling over, fingers sliding out of the chair and trailing against the floor.

Eventually I became aware of a voice speaking, and then I didn’t pay attention to my breathing so much. I was far more interested in what the voice had to say. It was saying that things were finally wrapping up (what things?). It was giving us one final set of instructions. I smiled. Like all the other instructions, these too sounded ridiculous. I had no intention of following through on them. (No thought given, I guess, to the fact that for every single one of the previous suggestions, I had.)

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Just the gentleman I’m touching now…” The voice trailed off for a while. “…and the gentleman I’m touching now,” it concluded, somewhere in the distance. More instructions. Ridiculous instructions. Gross instructions. Critically important instructions. I smiled again, and even chuckled. There was no way in hell I was doing that.

“Listening attentively now for those magic words, as I bring you all back out of hypnosis one last time…”

“Magic words?” Fuck. Well, I sure hope he didn’t expect me to do anything, because I couldn’t remember a thing he’d just said. Honestly, I wasn’t even hypnotized, just relaxing and waiting for this nonsense to be over.

“Five. Drawing in a nice deep breath…”

I inhaled. Deeper than before. I loved the feeling as the rush of oxygen flooded my lungs. I felt almost like a balloon that had been deflated for the last… how long? Like I was finally filling up with energy again.

“Four. Another deep breath. Feel it fill you like helium, helping you rise up, back in your chair, to a nice, comfortable sitting position…”

Yeah. That’s right. I felt myself rise, like one of those inflatable waving guys they use to get your attention at car dealerships. I leaned back in my chair. It felt so good to sit up and stretch.

“Three. Deep breath again. Feel yourself becoming more alert and aware with each passing second. Still focused on my voice, yet you begin to become more aware of the other noises in the room, perhaps the touch of your fingers on your—or someone else’s—body, the movement of the people around you…”

He was right. I rubbed my pinky against my inner thigh, feeling the soft caress of fabric. I could feel someone shifting beside me. I wondered who it was. I still just felt so good, even as I was becoming more awake and aware.

“Two. One more deep breath now. Feel it fill your body with energy. You may find that you want to go home and sleep as soon as you possibly can, but as you awake, you will find yourself alert and aware, ready to get yourself there safely and with ease…”

Yes. God, as relaxed as I was right now, getting back to the hotel and climbing into bed sounded so, so good. I raised my head even more, rolling my neck a bit, feeling myself come around. It was good to have an objective for after I opened my eyes—a little bit of direction for the rest of the evening.

“One. Last deep breath in. Bring your head up to a normal height, as though staring forward, eyes remaining loosely, lazily closed. Feel every muscle still imbued with that sense of total and complete relaxation. You feel wonderful right now. In just a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers and say that magic word, and as I do, you will awaken from this evening’s hypnosis, rested, refreshed, and alert, ready to do exactly as I have instructed to finish out the evening…”

I swallowed, exhaling. I felt totally aware of where I was—fully present, for the first time in what seemed like a long time. I was just sitting here calmly, as though I had closed my eyes a moment ago (hadn’t I?). I was up onstage in a chair. There were guys next to me. I was in front of an audience. There was the hypnotist guy clomping around behind our backs, still trying to hypnotize us, or talk us out of it, or something. I think he’d been pretty successful at relaxing us, if I was being honest, but I couldn’t say I’d actually gone under.

“All of your attention focused on my voice. Simply waiting for that word… As I awaken you now for the last time…” Snap. “Wide awake.”

I blinked, opening my eyes and looking around. That row of chairs. The audience. Fuck. We were still up here at this stupid hypnosis show. How much time had we wasted on this bullshit?

“Welcome back,” smiled the hypnotist. We looked around. Welcome back where? We’d been here the whole time.

“How was it?” he asked, holding his mic out to a guy a few seats away from me.

“How was what?” the guy—that Indian guy, Arpit—asked, blinking and staring up at him.

“The hypnosis. You said you wanted to try, right?”

“Yeah…” Arpit mumbled. “Did we start?”

“Start? Not only did you start, I’d say you were one of my best groups ever.” The hypnotist gave a little “go” motion to the audience, which erupted in a thunderous round of applause, whistles and catcalls. What the fuck was going on? We’d seriously just gotten up here. (Though, I wondered, hadn’t I been sitting with Hec, Ryan and Josh? Suddenly it seemed like I was at the opposite end of the stage.)

“Everyone up here was a fantastic subject, yourself very much included,” said the hypnotist, patting the bewildered Arpit on the shoulder. “I mean it. Seriously, some of you were among the best volunteers I’ve ever worked with.”

We all continued looking at each other. This guy was mental. We’d just been sitting here the whole time. No one had gotten hypnotized.

“I can see by your faces you don’t believe me,” he said, as Arpit shook his head. I noticed a bunch of guys leaning around whispering to each other—“This is all bullshit, right?”

“I wish I could offer you some further proof. Unfortunately, for this evening, we really have reached… The End.”

“YOU SURE MADE AN ASS OUT OF ME!” I yelled, rising to my feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that it looked like everyone else had done the same. Why had we done that? It just seemed like the right thing to do…

Without really thinking about it, I turned to face the back of the stage, and the next right thing to do seemed to be to unzip my shorts, bend over, and pull them and my underwear down about six or seven inches, gripping the waistband to keep them steady, so just the globes of my ass were showing. I stared down at a 45-degree angle, not really thinking, just waiting for it to become obvious what to do next. Somehow, I was aware everyone else onstage was doing this too, even though I wasn’t looking at them or anything.

“How about one last hand for our boys?” said the hypnotist, and the audience erupted into another round of applause. This made some faraway part of me feel good, though mostly my higher consciousness was suffused with a dull unawareness, like I was in this zen state and only something very specific could knock me out of it.

In the meantime, I just kept staring at the stage floor toward the back, which was littered with towels, what looked like a bottle of baby oil, splatters of whipped cream, pie tins, a mysterious dark sack, and various other bric-a-brac. I also found myself thinking, idly, that the warm lights sure felt good on my naked ass.

I heard the hypnotist’s boots clomping down the line of guys, starting from my end, and felt something slide into my underwear. Once he got about halfway down the row, I heard him stop, followed by a loud round of cheers and applause. “All right, all right, him too,” he chuckled.

“And with that, I think our boys are ready to be dismissed, if you fine folks could do me a favor and just say that magic word one last time…”

“SPECTACLE!!” I heard the whole room yell in unison. Suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks—what was I doing standing around with my ass hanging out? I had a job to do!

Quickly hiking up my shorts, I turned to the side and knelt at the end of the long row of guys. A whole line of naked butts trailed toward the other end of the stage, and I knew no one could get out of here unless I did what I did best.

Kyle was first, and he’d dropped his tan shorts far—almost halfway down his calves—leaving a wide swath of his lightly hairy backside exposed. For some reason, unlike the other times—and somehow, I did know I’d done this before—I was more aware of the fact I was kissing an ass, but for some reason I just didn’t care. It was more like it was my job, my expertise, and I just had to put my head down and get to work—though another part of me knew it was easier if I thought of Taylor Swift, so I kinda did that too.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips straight to the rounded curve at the apex of Kyle’s cheek, planting a long, wet smooch directly on the surface of his flesh. After three or four seconds I pulled away, and Kyle immediately hiked up his shorts, sliding them over the crescent moons of his butt and trotting offstage, down the stairs and through a cordoned-off area where a bouncer ushered him out a door.

Noticing someone striding past from further down, I scooted on my knees until I was directly facing Dylan, who had his tight little black jeans shucked down his thighs just past the bottom of his cheeks. What they revealed was a hairless, pale bum, yet round and pert. For some reason I remembered this guy had the thighs and calves of a cyclist, and it appeared he had an ass to match.

I immediately pushed my lips in and got great connection—even better than with Kyle, because there wasn’t that dusting of hair in the way. Pressing my lips in hard, I got a nice push of resistance, allowing me to plant a long, deep, romantic smooch directly on the smooth alabaster surface of his posterior.

When I finally pulled back, Dylan too rose up, shucking the form-fitting jeans up his ass and zipping the fly. Turning to trot away, I heard him stopped behind me by a “Not you, Dylan. You move right over there.” But I wasn’t concerned with that. I had more work to do.

Scooting down again, I arrived at Arpit, who, given his scrawny nature, was flatter and a bit more flabby than round. Pressing my lips to his cheek, I felt a thick forest of brown fur meet me as behind my back someone else went bounding past. Thankfully, Arpit’s hair was soft and none too officious, and I was able to close my eyes and plant a nice, long, loving kiss against his tan backside.

Pulling away, I watched him too pull up his jeans and go trotting toward the stairs. No time to focus on that, though. Still plenty of work to do.

I turned to the next guy in line, my friend Ryan, and immediately dove in. As a total jock, his glutes felt like they were molded from steel, and my lips met pure rock when they pressed against them. If I’d been a bit more cognizant of what was going on, I might have noted that Ryan’s cheeks basically represented a model moon—wonderfully round, sculpted, with the slightest dimple on either side, and rising perfect and unblemished above his waistband. I wasn’t thinking about that at the moment, however; I just concentrated on pressing my lips softly, sensuously against the warm, hard flesh.

I stayed there an extra long time, and as I finally pulled away, it was only to see Ryan, just like everybody else, smoothly slide his jeans over his butt, zip, and strut toward the exit, not seeming in a daze so much as laser-focused.

Arriving next down the line, I came to either Jay or Sam, another guy whose ass was peeking nicely out of his tight, knee-length cut-offs. Despite the fact it wasn’t nearly as muscular or round as Ryan’s—as a matter of fact, it was downright scrawny—the way he jutted it out and framed it with his waistline emphasized the curve of his cheeks perfectly, making for an excellent moon. Again, I pressed my lips in and kissed lovingly, a little closer to the center this time, where I felt a light dusting of hair in his ass-crack tickle my nose.

Once I finally pulled away, the little hipster took longer than most pulling his pants back on—kind of like Dylan, they were too tight—and afterwards simply walked off, not seeming concerned with finding his partner, who I think I had glimpsed go by a few seconds ago.

Sliding down the line, I arrived at one last model specimen: Hector. Nearly as athletic as Ryan, Hector was similarly well-rounded, taut and firm. He was sagging his baggy cargo shorts way down, affording not just a view of his tan, round moons, but of the hairy underside of his balls as well—at least if you were as close as I was.

Leaning in, I gave Hector a kiss for the ages—part of me thinking of Taylor, and part of me just thinking how happy I was to be helping my friend get out of here. Just like Ryan, his glutes were like marble, the tan skin firm and warm and inviting to the touch. I could smell a little sweat-funk from all the night’s fun, but it didn’t bother me in the slightest. Clapping my hands on his half-clad hips for support, I pressed extra hard as I finished off, really giving it a smooch, and finally pulled away after what seemed like quite a while.

Hiking his shorts up, Hector zipped, buckled his floppy belt and marched away, as I felt someone else doing the same behind me. Scooting over, I came face-to-face with a very familiar sight—Ant’s hirsute, pale posterior—just as I also became aware of someone else kneeling to my left.

“All right, stop right there, boys. And so it ends as it began,” I heard a voice rumble through the speakers, which only after a moment’s consideration I determined must have belonged to the hypnotist.

“Looks like Mike’s a bit faster than Josh—and certainly more enthusiastic!” The audience burst into laughter, while I just looked up, annoyed. What was this guy blabbing on about? I just wanted to kiss this ass so I could go home.

“All right, since you boys are both in familiar territory, why don’t you share this one? At the count of three, side-by-side… One, two, three!”

You didn’t have to tell me twice. I leaned straight in, and Josh—next to me, I guess—did the same, each of us pressing our lips against one of the firm, rounded cheeks. I closed my eyes. For some reason I couldn’t put my finger on, this just felt familiar and right, and it was nice being able to do it with Josh, too. He and Ryan always tended to be closer, and we never really did enough stuff together.

I was vaguely aware of the audience erupting in applause and cheers, but my focus was mainly on giving Ant’s cheek a nice, passionate kiss. Eventually, after the time felt right, my lips smacked and I pulled away, realizing Josh had done the same in equal rhythm. Ant stood, and I watched the two moons of his cheeks, each glistening with a fresh dot of spit, disappear into the baggy confines of his camo shorts. For some reason, I felt this strange, sad sensation, like this was something I had grown accustomed to that I would never see again. (But where would I have seen this before?)

As Ant shuffled off, Josh and I, still on our knees, looked up at the hypnotist expectantly. “Hey, stand up for me, Josh,” he said, beckoning my friend. Josh obliged, and I waited patiently to see what would happen.

“We still gotta get Josh out of here, don’t we, Mike?” he asked, and I nodded, waiting to see what he had in mind. He whispered in Josh’s ear.

“YOU SURE MADE AN ASS OUT OF ME!” Josh turned and yelled to audience, then about-faced again, undid his jeans, and dropped the back to his calves, exposing his smooth, creamy rear end.

“One more for the road?” asked the hypnotist, and I quickly shuffled over and pressed my lips to the warm, smooth surface of my friend’s butt. He wasn’t quite as well-defined as Hector and Ryan, but still provided a nice, pillowy surface I felt I could kiss for days.

“Josh is special, Mike. You need to get right in there toward the crack.”

Well, if that’s what it took... I scooted forward, leaning in further and planting my lips right on the round curve leading into Josh’s ass crack. I felt the smooth warmth of his other cheek brushing my face, and knew I was right where I needed to be. I made it a long, wet kiss, taking my time, since this was my friend’s ticket out of here.

Finally pulling away, I watched him, too, slide his jeans up and refasten his belt. Turning, Josh strode off, and the hypnotist beckoned me to rise.

As he turned me to face the audience, I stared forward dazedly, not quite tired, but just like I was in that zen state again, waiting for my next instruction. Off to the side of the stage, I noticed Dylan, stripped back to his underwear, just standing there, head bowed, looking like he was asleep on his feet.

“All right. I need you all to bring the motherfucking house down for- I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Hypno-Slut,” I muttered dully, still disoriented without a clear line of asses in front of me. The audience chortled for some reason.

“Remember, your name comes back and everything fades the second you step out that door,” the hypnotist whispered to me softly, and I nodded, not really registering or understanding what he meant.

“Give it up for Mike, this evening’s hypno-slut, and the finest somnambulist I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.”

The room exploded. The entire audience rose to its feet, the house lights coming all the way up and everyone clapping and cheering. It barely registered what for. I guess on some level I realized it was me, but I couldn’t figure out why, and it all seemed a bit of a mystery.

The hypnotist leaned in and whispered to me again, and I felt myself almost swooning into him as he held me with an arm across the small of my back—not quite passing out like would usually happen (what? when?), but my mind just feeling like it was melting into Jell-O. He was saying something about my pants being too tight, and I was vaguely, peripherally aware of hands—they couldn’t be mine, could they?—doing something by my belt at his behest, and just the absolute and complete relaxation I felt once I’d completed my task.

“Fully awake and aware for the last time, completely out of hypnosis as you hear our audience at the count of three, two, one…”

“WIDE AWAKE!!”

I- What the fuck???

For some reason, I came to in front of a roomful of people with my pants around my ankles. Gasping and turning bright red, I lunged down, grabbing my shorts and underwear and yanking them up, zipping and buckling them as fast as I could. How long had I been standing like that?? Though I tried to rationalize it as some kind of wardrobe malfunction, part of me was sure I had just given the whole room a view of my bait and tackle lasting a good several seconds. For that matter, where the fuck even was I?

“Mike, everybody!” I heard some asshole yell, and the room erupted in applause and cheers, everyone on their feet. Why was someone saying my name?? All I wanted was to get out of here.

Dashing across the stage, I stumbled down the stairs and along a small, roped off corridor against a back wall leading to a rear exit. Bounding past some kind of guard, I slammed down on the exit bar and pushed through the door into the warm night air.

Outside, I felt the smell of the ocean breeze hit me like a slap in the face, and I blinked, finally feeling awake for the first time. Where was I? Outside this bar, in a back alley, surrounded by a bouncer and a bunch of other people. Why had I come out the back? Was it too crowded in there? Scene sucked? I guess it must’ve. Why else would we beat it out the back door?

I noticed a bunch of guys near me on their phones—this shaggy-haired dude in shorts and a tee calling an Uber, and an Asian guy in a rumpled dress shirt and pants, tie loosely knotted around his collar, scratching his neck and doing the same. Finally, I spotted my friends, standing nearby talking to a bouncer.

“You guys need to book a lift?” the beefy guy was saying, and Josh was shaking his head.

“Our hotel’s a few blocks over, we just need to find our friend.” Suddenly he spotted me, right after I noticed him. “Yo, Mike!” he called, waving me over.

“All right, you boys take care. Don’t talk to anyone on the way,” the bouncer said, patting Josh on the back. For a second, the bouncer’s and my eyes connected, and I had this weird sense of déjà vu, like I’d seen this guy before. Had I been speaking with him earlier, maybe outside the bathroom or something?

Leaving me no time to ruminate, Ryan clapped me on the shoulder and dragged me along, the four of us quickly marching out of the alley and back onto the crowded main drag, still thronging with spring breakers. There was hot pussy in bikinis and short-shorts all around, yet for some reason, I felt exhaustion slamming into me like a ton of bricks. All I wanted was to get back to the hotel as fast as possible. Seemed like the rest of the guys felt the same, as we were plowing down the street in total silence, Josh burrowing through crowds like a mole-person.

Finally reaching our hotel after what seemed an eternity (though in reality was probably just a few minutes), we waited with a crowd for the elevator, before finally getting fed up—just as a clown car’s worth of inebriated guys and girls started pouring out of the newly arrived car into the lobby—and opting just to hoof it up the stairs to our floor.

Making our way down the balcony walk, we passed a few more drunken revelers, and, looking over the railing, could see a veritable bacchanal down by the pool. None of that mattered, though. I just wanted to get back to the room and hit the sack. I couldn’t remember how much or what we’d been drinking at the bar, but I—and the rest of the guys, for that matter—must have been hammered, because I was completely ready to conk out.

After Josh jiggled our way into the room with our keycard, the blaring light illuminated our beds, which were positively screaming to me. Not even wanting to take the time to get ready, I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my shirt and shorts, and dove under the covers, feeling Hector or Josh or someone not far behind. My head had barely hit the pillow as I felt sleep overtake me, and I sunk into oblivion, exhaling all my exhaustion and disappearing into gauzy nothingness.

“Devin Rosco… Devin Rosco… Devin Rosco…” A loud moaning stirred me from my sleep. Blinking groggily, I opened my eyes to see the golden light of morning streaming through the open curtains across the room. Closing my eyes again, I could hear the soft patter of the shower in the adjoining bathroom. I stretched gently, feeling the warm caress of flesh against my triceps…

Jolting back awake, I looked around, suddenly wondering where the hell I was and who was with me. Looking over, I saw my arm was slung over the firm shoulder and delt of Ryan, who was lying next to me and pressed tight against Hector, spooning him.

Pulling back with a start, I sat up, jostling the covers and causing Hec to stir, though not waken. Fuck. What the hell had we done last night? Glancing across the room, I saw the neighboring queen bed sitting there, unmolested. Had the four of us seriously fallen asleep in one big half-naked pile? How fucking drunk were we?

However bad it was, I wasn’t hung over in the slightest, which struck me as something of a miracle. Sliding out of bed to extricate myself from things before anyone else was the wiser, I peeked over and saw that at least, blessedly, Ryan and Hector—like me—had their underwear on. It was weird, because Ryan was wearing this exceedingly small pair of tighty-whities I would have thought he wouldn’t be caught dead in, while Hector had on an absolutely microscopic pair of striped 2(X)IST briefs when I could’ve sworn he always wore stuff that was a little less… well, for lack of a better word, gay. Whatever the case, I thanked god for small favors we weren’t naked. Thankfully, this would never leave this room, though I sure hoped Hector woke up before Ryan, because I knew he was gonna throw a fit if he found himself in his current position.

Walking a few paces away and sitting down in a chair, I sighed and massaged my forehead with my hand, trying to figure out what to do with myself. The shower continued thrumming in the bathroom, so I guessed it wasn’t quite time to get ready for the day, and I didn’t really want to slip on a change of clothes while I was dirty.

Shifting in the seat, I felt a strange crumpling beneath my leg, and, standing again, I reached inside the oddly tight cuff of my white Calvin Klein boxer-briefs and extracted a small piece of paper, smoothing it out and staring down at it. At the top, it listed the name of a bar, I guessed, though it was totally unfamiliar to me, and underneath it stated in bold letters:

“ADMIT ONE

ADULT HYPNOSIS EXTRAVAGANZA

MASTER HYPNOTIST DEVIN ROSCO

+ 2 COMPLIMENTARY DRINKS”

What the hell? How did I end up with a free ticket to a hypnosis show? And why did that name seem so familiar? Was this from the bar we were at? Some kind of door prize? I guess they were trying to drum up an audience. Still, a hypnosis show seemed pretty juvenile, particularly for Spring Break. Why watch someone cluck like a chicken when there were rows of bare titties in the street for viewing?

Feeling uncomfortable (and cold!) sitting around in my underwear, I grabbed my shorts and shirt from last night and pulled them on while I waited for Josh and the shower. Reaching into my pocket for my phone, I slipped the ticket in, not really sure what else to do with it, and promptly forgot all about it.

It didn’t occur to me again ’til we were at bunch. We’d managed to find a spot down the street after all the guys finished getting themselves ready, and by the time we got there and waited the half hour to get seated, I was starving.

The place was nothing to write home about—just your standard brunch joint, bottomless bloodies and mimosas and micheladas and shit and catering to exactly our crowd, hungover college kids on Spring Break. As a result, the place was a zoo, with crowded tables, people yelling everywhere, etc. We could barely place our orders with the exhausted-looking waitress over the noise. Amazingly, it seemed like none of the other guys had hangovers either, which was a freaking miracle considering the way Ryan usually drank. That gave us a certain advantage in the noisy restaurant, though we still ordered like we were hungover anyhow.

Across the room, toward one of the quiet corners, I noticed a small booth with a couple scrawny-looking raver guys in striped tees and cutoff shorts who I could swear I knew from somewhere. I wasn’t sure if they’d been on the flight with us or what, but it was killing me trying to place them. It was funny, because amidst the loud, crowded restaurant, they were leaning together and speaking softly, staring across the table into each other’s eyes. One even kept blushing and staring down at his pancakes. It’s not like it bugged me or anything—if they were a couple, good for them. It was just more surprising than anything, as given their aloof demeanors, they didn’t seem the type to be so publicly intimate…

Thankfully, about ten minutes into our meal, the table across from us cleared out and this group of girls sat down, one of whom I’d been side-eyeing the entire time we were waiting for our seats. She was really cute, with nice blonde hair, pretty lips, and a proportionally perfect rack, well highlighted by the constrictive tube top she had on. I couldn’t stop staring at her the whole time we were waiting to sit, and I was glad to have another front-row view for the duration of the meal. Who knew, maybe I could even find some pretext to strike up a conversation. That was, if she didn’t end up snared by one of the other guys. I had noticed her look over a couple times, but seemingly never in my direction. If past was prelude, Ryan or Hector in particular were bound to swoop in and nab her.

As I continued mulling sullenly over my disadvantage, for some reason this odd thought kept creeping into the back of my mind, which I figured had to be inspired by that weird ticket. I didn’t quite know how it had incepted me, but for some reason I kept thinking about if I really were at that hypnosis show, what if this girl were there too? I kept imagining her slumping forward in a chair, following some strange guy’s commands. Maybe she’d start rubbing herself. Maybe she’d take off that tube top…

The entire thing caught me off-guard, because I had never even seen a hypnosis show, much less thought about one in any kind of sexual capacity, but for some reason, the idea was running wild in my mind. It’d be so hot to see such a pretty, aloof girl like that lose control…

After a few minutes spent mumbling responses to the guys, I abruptly excused myself, almost absent-mindedly, and went weaving through the crowded dining area to the restroom.

Lucking out and finding an unoccupied stall, I slid in and prepared to dust off my old dorm-room skill at the covert wank. Not to be too gross or anything, but in cramped quarters, surreptitious masturbation technique had proven a valuable commodity, and while I thankfully hadn’t had to use it much since getting a private room at the frat house, I was sure glad now I had honed my skillset.

Reaching down, I grabbed my already tumescent shaft and let my fingers do the walking. Closing my eyes, I thought of that girl, so pretty, fresh-faced, sinking to her knees in front of me, ruby lips enveloping my cock and just going to town, popping off that top to reveal those gorgeous tits.

As my fantasy went on, I found things melding together, the cocksucking occasionally switching to that image of her in the chair, head bowed, sunken down, so submissive and obedient. Fuck. I couldn’t figure out why I was finding that so hot all of a sudden. Occasionally, I even found myself flashing to Taylor Swift—another go-to of mine—and as the fantasy (and my rhythm) progressed, more and more ingredients joined the mix. By the end, I was pounding doggie-style into Hector’s sister Maria (another pet fantasy, though one I felt somewhat guilty about) while making out with Taylor and imagining the girl still asleep in the chair, ready to do absolutely anything.

“Devin Rosco Devin Rosco Devin Rosco,” I started babbling without thinking, trying to keep my voice as low as possible as I came, catching the entirety of the slick, nacreous emission in my hand and letting it slide down into the toilet. Fuck, where had that come from? I couldn’t even place that name. Had I seen it on the ticket or something? Was it part of that weird hypnosis fantasy? What an odd thing to find myself saying.

Opening my eyes and sighing, I hoped I had at least managed to be as discrete as I’d intended, though some loud snickering by the door had me worried.

As I got a hold of myself, however, I remembered it was Spring Break and there was a shit-ton of stuff going on. Whoever was laughing could have been—surely was—laughing at something else. It couldn’t have been me. I’d been quiet as a mouse.

After getting cleaned up, I headed back to the table and was delighted to discover our food had arrived. “Did you hear someone yelling in there?” asked Josh as I plopped back down. I looked around, trying to hide the flushing in my cheeks and play it cool.

“What? No. What did you hear?” I asked.

“Everyone around here heard yelling,” said Ryan, tucking into a steak and eggs. “Half the room heard it.”

“Probably some dude getting head in the broom closet,” snickered Hector.

“The bathroom must’ve blocked it out, I didn’t hear anything,” I covered. Or was I covering? I still didn’t think it was me—I’d been careful to be super quiet—but for some reason I couldn’t help doubting myself. Catholic guilt, I supposed. But really, what was more plausible—that I’d uncontrollably screamed some random name I’d never heard before, or, like Hector said, that some bus boy was scoring a quickie?

“Josh was saying he found something in his pants,” said Hector, thankfully changing the subject.

“Yeah. Can you imagine where I got this?” Josh asked, sliding forward a little yellow rectangle. I blinked in disbelief. It was the same fucking ticket I had.

“Holy shit, dude,” I heard Ryan say, yanking another out of his jeans before I could speak.

“Where the fuck did we get these?” asked Josh, shaking his head.

“Gotta be that bar we were at…,” said Hector. He reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out one of his own.

“Fuck,” I said. “You won’t believe it, but…” I pulled mine out too.

“They must be hard-up for business,” said Josh.

“Shit sounds gay as hell,” muttered Ryan.

“It does say free drinks though…” I countered, idly stirring my syrup with a sausage. Of course Ryan wouldn’t be into this shit. Neither would Josh, I supposed, being so type-A. And Hector seemed too proud and practical (not to mention superstitious) to go in for such nonsense.

To tell the truth, it wasn’t my thing either—or at least, I hadn’t thought. In fact, it kind of upset me I still had that curiosity scratching around in my head. Here we were on Spring Break, and I was fantasizing about wasting time on some dumbass carny bullshit when I could be out on the beach having the time of my life! Yet for some reason, the vision of that girl just kept running through my mind. She seemed so far away a table over, and yet so close right there…

“Might be hot chicks,” I was startled to hear Josh offer.

“Yeah, you think they might make them take their tops off?” grinned Hector, suddenly on my same perverse wavelength. “I heard some of those guys even make them have orgasms.”

“I guess we could swing by,” Ryan shrugged, still seeming mostly interested in his meal. “At least grab some free brews and see if anything slutty’s happening.”

“If it sucks, we’ll be back at the beach by ten,” said Josh, already adding it to his mental planner.

“Just as long as no one goes up,” said Hector, spearing a mouthful of eggs.

“Wouldn’t catch me dead doing that shit,” said Ryan.

“Me either, man,” replied Josh. “Besides, it’s a crock anyhow.”

“Even still, I’m not fuckin’ around with it,” said Hector.

“Maybe Mike’ll try,” smirked Josh.

“Hell no!” I laughed. “You guys are the ones always making idiots out of yourselves. If I got up there, I’d put the whole audience to sleep.”

“You got a point there,” muttered Ryan, shaking another dash of pepper on his eggs.

Damn right. As far as our group went, Ryan and Hector were the outgoing ones. Even Josh was Mr. Planner, while I generally preferred to keep it safe on the sidelines. If anything, despite my comparably athletic physique, I was probably the brains of the outfit. I had no intention of looking like an idiot, nor, I figured, was I extroverted enough to be the center of attention anyway, particularly in anything as silly as a hypnosis act.

Nope, I was just shy, quiet Mike. And that okay by me. After all, Mike the Egghead wasn’t that bad a superlative, even among a group of jocks. And besides, it’s not like I knew any better way to describe myself…