The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Blackness isn’t precisely the right term. I felt this strange kind of awareness. It was definitely like someone had turned all the lights out in my head and nobody was home, but I could still feel...something. The sensation that flooded my body in an instant was already familiar from before, when my arms had unclasped. In fact, it was just like he’d said—my entire body relaxed in an instant, just like the arms; and it was like my brain relaxed too. All the worries of fighting with the arm, of being stuck to the chair, of the room, of everyone watching me, all my friends and everything they would say later, just vanished in an instant. I felt my head flopping against the back of the chair, completely over the back, hanging off, stretching my neck terribly, in a way that would have been totally uncomfortable if I had had any capacity to feel discomfort at the time. My mouth lolled wide open and I didn’t think for one second how stupid I must have looked. My arms, so tense with struggle a microsecond before, dropped to my sides, my left hand, having fought so valiantly just a moment ago, flopping down, palm up, onto the seat next to me, while my right dangled limply in the space next to my seat at the end of the row. My legs, which I realized had been tight from fighting in the struggle, slid out in front of me, coming to rest in a comfortable position with the knees slightly bent. My ass slid forward in the seat. It in no way occurred to me how tightly I had thought it was stuck before, and that the fact that it slid forward ever so slightly now meant there was nothing there and I could pull it up at any time. No. I was down for the count. I even looked like a TKO. Just a lifeless, unmoving pile of flesh.

I was vaguely aware of gasps and murmuring, the soft clunk of boots stepping toward me across the stage. “That doesn’t look too comfortable,” I heard, fairly clear, and laughter that sounded like a barely audible whisper, a million miles away.

I felt a hand press into the hair at the back of my head, but it didn’t really register in any coherent way. It was just a thing I had felt at some point. The force at the back of my head gently pushed it up, removing the pressure and discomfort from my neck, the one thing I could have ever thought to complain about, if that had even been a possibility. I felt a presence beside my supported torso in the space next to the chair. A soft voice, perfect and clear as a bell, whispering gently, soothingly in my ear, “I’m going to let your head fall forward now, and when it touches your chest, you’ll sink a hundred times deeper.” And gently he guided it forward until I felt my chin graze my torso.

“Sleeeeep,” he intoned in a rumbling, sensuous basso profundo.

And I did.

After that I remember very little. I was vaguely aware of the voice—my voice, the most important voice in the world—speaking, and possibly others speaking to it, but what was said didn’t matter, as I knew it didn’t concern me, and my only job was to relax deeper and deeper.

After what could have been a minute, could have been an hour, I was vaguely aware of another presence moving in beside me, and the sensation of my left arm, about which I had completely forgotten, being lifted and placed gently in my lap. Something else going on, and then a warm, firm form keeling over into me, and a strong, gentle touch guiding my head to the side, my body slumping along with it, resting carelessly against the mass beside me.

Beyond this there’s very little. I was vaguely aware of a similar process being repeated, a line formed away from me to my left. There was talk about how those who had been hypnotized were very susceptible to re-induction; how even right now their eyes were beginning to droop and grow heavy and how if they weren’t on stage they should take the opportunity to go back to their homes or hotels and take a nice long rest; how everyone who was here now had been here before, and welcome. Everyone should enjoy the show. The volunteers especially would enjoy the show. I would enjoy the show.

I have no idea how long this lasted. As I said, it could have been a minute, it could have been a day. I didn’t care. I could think of nothing except how refreshing each and every breath was, how good I felt, how relaxed, how the touch of the form beside me, the soft murmur of the voice in my mind, did nothing but drive me deeper and deeper to sleep…

“—awake.”

I blinked, looking around. It was bright here. Where was I? Light shone in my face, blotting out everything for an instant. I felt at once groggy, yet energized, like waking up after an excellent rest in a comfortable bed—you’d be happy to lie down again, and could fall asleep in an instant, but would be just as delighted to lounge under the sheets.

It took me a second to assess my bearings, and for my eyes to adjust better to see past some of the lights. There was a room out in front of me, full of raised circular tables with little lamps, around which groups of people were sitting, sipping drinks, smiling, looking in my direction. Beneath me was a stage. Looking over, I noticed a long row of seats to my left, filled with people. Right next to me was Hector, then Ryan and Josh, and beyond them, a row of strangers.

Now I remembered. We must be up on stage at the hypnotist show. How had that happened? I couldn’t remember a thing about getting up here. We must have agreed to it on a dare. I could vaguely remember a bunch of us coming forward to the front, looking to get our hands unstuck. That must be it. He must have finished unsticking our hands. I’m sure in a moment, he would ask who wanted to be hypnotized, and I could just go. I did notice a bunch of people seemed to have left already. Those hot girls, for instance, were nowhere to be seen, neither up on stage nor in their seats. In fact, I noticed, it seemed like everyone on stage was a guy. This certainly wasn’t turning out like I’d hoped. Girls must not be very good hypnotic subjects.

A figure stepped out in front of us, and it took me a second to remember who he was—the hypnotist from before.

“Evening,” he said with a smile, playing toward the audience. There were chuckles. “Now that we’ve thinned out the herd to our most...desirable subjects—” this he said to the audience, and there were definitely chuckles now, “let’s take a moment and meet our stars.”

He turned back toward us, having traversed the stage during his short speech. He was at the other end of the line now.

I peered down the row. The guy at the opposite end, from what I could make out, appeared to be our age, in his very early 20s. He had a boyish face and wavy brown hair just a bit overgrown. A thin blue t-shirt tightly hugged his frame, which was average but defined. It didn’t look like he worked out or anything, but he had a strong chest and wide, broad shoulders with long arms. There was one of those brightly colored ____strong bracelets around his right wrist, which rested on a leg covered in knee-length, baggy tan shorts. His long legs ended in long feet, clad in silver shoes.

“How’s it going, man?” the hypnotist asked.

“All right,” said the guy, sounding a little confused, groggy.

“Surprised to be up here?” asked the hypnotist.

“Kinda,” he said nervously, looking around and eliciting a chuckle from the crowd.

“You’d be surprised how often I get that,” said the hypnotist with a smirk. “Ever been hypnotized?”

“Nah,” he said nonchalantly. “I thought I’d try it out.”

“That’s awesome man, we’re gonna have a lot of fun tonight.” That drew a big, knowing laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Kyle.”

“You feel hypnotized, Kyle?”

Kyle shook his head no.

The hypnotist stuck his hand out, popping it open, palm out, so it was spread wide facing Kyle. He made a pop sound with his mouth and Kyle’s attention seemed instantly affixed, his eyes crossing over his nose as he stared at the palm. Slowly, while making a long “boooooop” that dropped steadily in tone, the hypnotist dragged his hand in a half-arc, down and to the side, pulling Kyle’s head along with it as though by magic. Kyle’s eyes remained glued to the palm, his lids fluttering more and more until his head finally came to rest on the lap of the guy beside him. At this exact moment, the hypnotist climaxed his sound with a “poof,” closing his hand into a fist and snapping his fingers all in one fluid motion. Kyle’s eyes slammed shut and his entire body visibly deflated, crumpling into the lap of his neighbor. His lips parted just slightly. He was out cold. The audience chortled.

“Dude, this is fucked,” Hector leaned in, whispering to me. “Let’s get out of here.”

I nodded, but neither one of us did anything. We just sat there and kept watching.

“What the fuck was that?” asked the hypnotist, looking at the guy next to Kyle. Laughter.

“I don’t know...” the guy said, smiling nervously. He was Asian, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s, dressed kind of business-like, in a shirt, tie, nice slacks and shoes, shortly cropped black hair (natch) and a smooth face.

“You know that’s gonna be you in a sec, right?” asked the hypnotist. Everyone laughed.

“Uh...” was all the guy could manage, with a nervous smile.

“No fuckin’ way, right?” the hypnotist laughed.

“Doesn’t seem likely...” the guy responded incredulously.

“What’s your name?”

“Len.”

The hypnotist stuck out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you Len.” Len took it.

“Night.” With a sharp yank the hypnotist pulled down on Len’s arm, sending his entire body collapsing like a rag doll on top of Kyle’s. His torso lay across the boy’s back, head and arms hanging limply downward. Everyone laughed, and there was a smattering of applause.

“Aw, would you look at that?” cooed the hypnotist. By its chuckling, the audience seemed to find it adorable.

Next to Len were a pair of guys who had clearly come together. They were dressed similarly, and I think I’d seen them hanging out before the show. They were about our age, surely in from another school. Each wore a sleeveless, striped tee, the one in the left white and light purple, the one on the right white and lime green. Each had tight, knee-length shorts. The one on the left wore sandals, the one on the right boat shoes. Both had sunglasses perched atop their heads.

“You mind if I take those? I don’t want them to get broken,” said the hypnotist, extending his hand. The two guys looked at each other and reluctantly removed the glasses, handing them over. The hypnotist stuck them in a pocket for the time being.

“How about that shit, huh?” he nodded at the two prone bodies to their left.

The two guys just looked at each other again, nervously.

“What’re your names?”

“Jay.”

“Sam.”

“Nice to meet you.” The hypnotist extended his hand.

The two guys looked at each other, then at the hand and then up the arm to the hypnotist. Jay shook his head no, eliciting gales of laughter.

“Either of you think that’s gonna work?”

“I didn’t really even want to come up here,” started Sam. Indeed, they both looked pretty above-it-all – not like the type of person you’d imagine at one of these things, more like disinterested rave boys.

“Hey, no worries. I’m not gonna hypnotize anybody who doesn’t want to be. Just make a vow not to be hypnotized.”

The two looked at each other again, then back up at the hypnotist, who pointed his mic down at them. After looking around a moment more, still unsure, they awkwardly mumbled in unison into the mic, “I...vow not to be hypnotized?”

“Awesome. Shake on it.”

The two looked at each other again, awkwardly grabbed hands and pumped a shake.

“Sleep,” stated the hypnotist.

From my angle, I could only see Sam very well, but I imagined Jay’s reaction was much the same. Sam’s eyes, having met Jay’s for just a split second, suddenly rolled back into his head, his lids fluttering as his entire upper body went slack and collapsed forward. The two collided into each other limply. Everyone roared with laughter. Even I laughed. It was pretty funny.

The hypnotist moved down the line. The next guy had wavy brown hair, slightly long, hanging in emo bangs over a baby face with really thick dark eyelashes. He was wearing a white t-shirt with navy blue around the collar and sleeves. It said something on the front, but I couldn’t tell what from where I was. He looked up nervously, expectantly.

“What’s your name, dude?”

“Parker.”

“You in from out of town?”

“Yeah, Minneapolis...”

“You here with anybody?”

“Yeah, my friend Paul.”

“Is Paul out there?” the hypnotist turned, trying to survey the audience. Parker looked around too.

“I musta done him last year...” the hypnotist said.

“Maybe he went to the bathroom,” suggested Parker.

“Tell you what,” said the hypnotist, looking him in the eye. “You see if you can find him. When you do, you’ll fall deep asleep.”

Parker squinted, peeking out into the audience. The hypnotist turned to the guy next to him, holding out the mic.

“What’s your name, man?”

“Ant.”

“Ant?”

The hypnotist cocked his head. Ant nodded solemnly. He wore a baggy wifebeater and dark green camo cargo shorts. His black hair was carefully spiked into a spiny mohawk, his arms sheathed in multicolored tattoos.

“Short for Anton?”

Ant nodded.

“That’s a nice name, man. I like it. Distinctive.”

“It’s memorable I guess,” said Ant.

“We’ll see about that,” said the hypnotist. Everybody chuckled, though I had no idea why.

Suddenly and completely without warning, Parker’s body just went limp, his ass sliding down the length of his chair and over the edge, sending him collapsing to the ground in a heap of lanky tan flesh, taking the chair with him. There were scattered gasps and the laughter redoubled. Half the audience was turning around looking behind them. I could barely see over the brightness of the stage lights shining on me, but it appeared someone had entered in the back of the room and now stood there, looking around and wondering why everyone was looking at him.

“You must be Paul,” said the hypnotist. The audience roared with laughter. The guy nodded and waved, sheepishly. Paul was of average height with a good build shown off by a thin white tee shirt. Beneath he had on brown cargo shorts and flip flops. His tan face was shrouded in long black hair.

“Well, I guess we know something about Paul, don’t we?” asked the hypnotist. Everyone laughed. I didn’t get it.

“You just missed your friend, but if you wanna hypnotize this guy, come on up.”

Giggling. Paul jogged quickly up to the stage.

“Hey, dude, I don’t really wanna be hyp—” started Ant.

“Don’t worry, man,” interrupted the hypnotist, but didn’t go into it any further. Ant just sat there, awkwardly looking around, waiting to be dismissed.

Paul climbed up on stage. The hypnotist shook his hand and said a quick hello off-mic, then turned to make an introduction.

“This is Ant, man. Ant, this is Paul. There’s actually something pretty cool about Paul I want you to see before you leave. He’s got this finger, a special finger – it’s his index finger – and whoever he touches with this magic finger is gonna go straight to sleep. Why don’t you try it, Paul?”

“Look man, I said I don’t want—” Ant started, turning toward the hypnotist and looking pretty pissed. However, he wasn’t able to get any further, as the second Paul’s finger brushed against his forehead, his eyes rolled up into his head, the lids fluttering closed, and he went totally limp, collapsing sideways into the space Parker’s chair had previously occupied. Of course, since nothing was here now, Ant simply tumbled down to the floor, landing in a big pile on his neighbor, his head resting softly, embarrassingly, on Parker’s ass.

The hypnotist grinned and bent down, resting the tips of a couple fingers on one of Ant’s smooth bare shoulders. “Sleeeep,” he breathed. “Relaaaaax. I want you to take a deep breath and get nice and comfortable. Just nuzzle into that cozy pillow and get so you feel perfect on that nice warm bed. Yessss...” Ant smiled just like you’d imagine someone snuggling into a warm, comfortable bed and nuzzled his face against Parker’s butt like it was a feather pillow. The audience was howling.

“Jealous?” asked the hypnotist, turning to Paul with a raised eyebrow. More laughter. Paul just smiled awkwardly and blushed. I wasn’t really sure what was going on.

“Dude, gay,” I heard Ryan mutter, effectively illuminating any subtext for my addled mind. He was on tonight, clearly because he was already annoyed about being up here. Between that and the girls going missing, I knew I was really going to catch it when we got offstage. For some reason, despite the incident that had just happened with Ant, it didn’t occur to me that our leaving would be for any reason out of the question.

“Stand up front here, dude, I wanna try one quick thing,” the hypnotist said, putting his arm over Paul’s shoulder and turning him to face out to the audience. “You look a little antsy to leave,” he said.

The funny thing was, while Paul hadn’t been before, suddenly he seemed to get very fidgety. It was sort of hard to tell from behind, but I could swear he was reaching down with his right hand, trying to be as discrete as possible but very clearly scratching his crotch. There were a few murmurs of disbelief and confusion from the audience, as well as a number of knowing chuckles.

“Thanks for coming up here, man,” said the hypnotist, rubbing Paul’s shoulder. “Seriously, no need to squirm, though I know you’re antsy to get back to your seat.”

Paul was now writhing under the hypnotist’s arm, which was draped casually over his shoulder. As he squirmed, I could see more clearly that he was definitely pawing at his crotch, with both hands now, not even bothering to hide it. What was going on?

“Seriously man, you seem antsy. Everything all right?”

Paul’s face was blushing in embarrassment. He turned to the side to dig a hand straight into his crotch and scratch, and I could see his face contorting in discomfort, his cheeks flushing crimson.

The hypnotist patted him on the shoulder. “There’s no need to be antsy man; am I making myself clear?”

In an instant, the strain and discomfort on Paul’s face completely evaporated. He seemed to come to his senses, looking around and realizing he was standing in a half-squat, turned to the side with his hands between his legs on stage in front of a large roomful of people. He rose back up and faced forward, glancing around awkwardly.

“You all right?” asked the hypnotist, holding up his mic.

“Yeah, just had an itch,” Paul muttered sheepishly, eliciting uproarious guffaws. He seemed totally bewildered what the laughter was about. I couldn’t help but smile myself. What was with this kid?

“I just wanted to thank you for coming up here, Paul. You’re a pretty good hypnotist,” said the guy, holding out his hand. Paul took it with a smile.

“But you know what? You’re a much better subject,” he continued, giving Paul’s arm a single, firm pump.

Instantly, Paul’s eyes rolled back and his knees completely gave way, sending him toppling toward the hypnotist, who quite smoothly caught him and eased him to the floor. There were gasps and laughter from the audience.

“The awesome thing about the best subjects,” said the hypnotist, rising and turning toward the crowd, “is how deeply they remember commands. Seeing as he brought a friend like I told him, I figured I’d see if he remembered any of his other commands from last year. Looks like we’ll have the pleasure of playing with Paul again.”

The hypnotist smiled, turning back to the line of guys. “Who’s next?”

He walked over to a lanky young Indian guy wearing a loose t-shirt, jeans and sandals. “What’s your name, man?”

“Arpit,” the guy said, with a moderate accent.

“One more time?”

“Arpit.”

“A-R-P-I-T?”

The guy nodded.

“Nice to have you up here, Arpit,” he said with a smile. “You believe this?” he gestured around at the passed-out guys onstage.

Arpit grinned. “Kinda hard.”

“You looking forward to being hypnotized?”

“Yeah, sure. I always wanted to try it.”

“That’s awesome, man. Nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to fucking with your head,” the hypnotist said with a grin, extending his hand. There were chuckles, and Arpit smiled too.

“Goodnight,” said the hypnotist, snapping his fingers directly in front of Arpit’s gaze. Arpit’s eyes fluttered closed and he slumped softly to the side, smiling, his torso collapsing straight into Ryan’s lap. Ryan grimaced like someone had just taken a shit all over him and immediately started trying to prop him back up in his seat.

“Dude, get this guy off me!”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” asked the hypnotist, bemused. He held the mic out so everyone could hear Ryan.

“Yeah, I don’t want some guy layin’ all over me. ‘Specially some guy named Armpit.”

There were some chuckles in the audience. I inwardly cringed. Oh god, mere seconds and he was already making an ass of himself. I didn’t mind so much, ‘cause I know deep down Ry is an okay guy, but in front of a bunch of strangers he was definitely going to look like a total prick.

Ryan had finally managed to get Arpit propped back up in his chair, which was no mean feat, considering he was as much dead weight as a sack of flour. He sprawled backwards now, his shoulders resting on the back of the seat, head hanging back, mouth agape. To be honest, it didn’t look very good for him. Typical Ryan. Didn’t really give a shit about anyone else’s comfort, as long as he wasn’t feeling “gay.”

“I think it’s ‘Arpit,’ actually,” said the hypnotist.

“Arpit, Armpit, whatever. I just don’t want him on me.”

“And what’s your name, man?” the hypnotist asked.

“Ryan.”

“We’ll see for how long,” he replied, to chuckles.

“Whatever, man, I don’t even want to be up here,” said Ryan derisively.

“Hey, that’s cool. Get on out of here,” the hypnotist said with a smile. Ryan moved to stand, but his butt wasn’t more than a few inches out of his chair when the hypnotist brushed his temple as he stepped down the line, whispering “sleeeep” in a throaty basso. Ryan’s stand quickly turned into a sprawl as his body went limp, sending him tumbling sideways directly into his neighbor’s lap. The force of his motion pulled both him and the already sleeping Arpit out of their chairs, sending them sprawling to the stage floor in one jumbled heap. The audience was rolling in the aisles.

“Jesus, we’re gonna have some fun with them,” chuckled the hypnotist. Everyone was laughing uproariously. Meanwhile, I felt a wave of relief because Ryan was out a second time. Now he had no one to blame but himself for the inevitable embarrassment. Hector, Josh and I just had to make our way out of here and we’d have gloating rights over him for the rest of the trip. I just hoped there was enough room on everyone’s cameras to document the humiliation.

“You guys all came together, right?” asked the hypnotist, turning to Josh. Just the three of us were left awake now. Time to gracefully beg off. For some reason, it still never registered that a vast majority of the people before us were unwilling participants as well. Somehow, I guess I just figured their desire to leave wasn’t pure enough or something. But no way that was happening with me.

“Why don’t I get everybody’s names right now?” He held out the mic.

“Hey look,” said Josh. “We actually didn’t really even mean to be up here, so if you just let us go—”

“No worries, man. I just figured you guys ought to say hi since you’re up here already. Then you can take off.”

Oh good, he was going to let us go.

The hypnotist held out the mic again.

“Uh, I’m Josh,” said Josh, awkwardly.

The hypnotist slid his arm down the line.

“Hector,” said Hector nervously, leaning in to the mic.

He moved it to me.

“Uh, Mike,” I said, trying to act chill. I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me. I guess at the moment, they were.

“Awesome,” said the hypnotist. “Glad to meet you guys. Thanks for coming up and giving it a try. Josh, you’re all set to go, unless you want to go double-or-nothing.”

“Double-or-nothing?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah, you can get another one of these guys out, too.” He nodded at us.

“Uh...” Josh hesitated, sensing a trap.

“Come on, real easy question, I swear,” said the hypnotist with a warm smile. It was strangely irresistible.

“…Okay,” said Josh.

“What’s your last name?”

He looked around, not sure if he wanted everyone to know. The mic waited before him. Hector nudged him and nodded. “Come on, dude, let’s get out of here.”

“Uh, Praeger,” Josh said.

“Awesome, man. Well done. Who’s it gonna be?”

Josh looked at Hector and me, then back up at the hypnotist, confused.

The hypnotist rolled his eyes rather theatrically. “Okay, one more round?”

“What about Ryan?”

“I think he belongs up here, wouldn’t you say?” asked the hypnotist. Everyone chuckled.

“Fine,” said the hypnotist. “One more and you get these two, and I’ll wake up Ryan. Another double-down.”

“I feel like I know where this one’s going,” said Josh. Everyone laughed.

“What’s your middle name?” The hypnotist held out the mic. Josh leaned forward, licked his lips, and froze. He got a strange, far-away look in his eye, and his face, a mask of confidence, fell, his brow knitting into an expression of utter consternation. He sat there for what felt like an hour, the muscles in his face contorting as he tried to remember.

“Seriously Josh, super simple: what’s your middle name?”

“I... I know I... have one...” he muttered, completely at a loss. The room filled with chuckles and some gasps of incredulity.

“Try for me, man. I really wanted to make this an easy one.”

“I... I know I...” he stuttered. I couldn’t help but feel bad. He looked so lost, so confused and uncomfortable, unable to remember the answer to such a basic personal question. Yet I couldn’t help but smile, too. It was really unbelievable. Amazing, and kind of funny.

“You trying really hard?”

“Yes!” he shot. “For some reason I can’t think of it.”

The hypnotist tapped his forehead. “Remember.”

Josh’s face lit up. He grabbed the mic, which was already quite close, his hand closing over the top of the hypnotist’s as he pulled it closer. “Oh! Alexander!”

The second the last syllable was out, his face drooped again, going completely slack. His eyes rolled back in his head and the lids fluttered down as his entire body went limp, slumping forward and tumbling out of the chair. The hypnotist swooped forward and caught him as he fell, supporting his upper torso under the arms as Josh’s legs hit the stage in a kneel. His head drooped down and his muscular arms hung completely limp. The weight of his collapsing body on the front of the seat caused it to fall forward with him, so its crux rested on his ass, its back against his. There was laughter and excited murmuring throughout the crowd. The hypnotist gently lowered Josh to the ground, and Hector and I cast each other a quick, worried glance, though we were barely able to divert ourselves from the spectacle involving our friend.

With Josh now sprawled out on the floor, the overturned chair resting, legs sticking straight up, on his ass, the hypnotist, staying in his stoop, gently lay a hand on Josh’s shoulder and whispered softly, “Alexander... Alexander...” Josh’s body stretched forward even further on the floor, his lips tugging up just slightly at the corners in the beginnings of a blissful smile. He seemed absolutely, utterly at peace. The further shifting of his body finally unbalanced the chair, sending it sliding slowly off his butt and onto the pile of sprawled limbs (Ryan and Arpit) beside him. Neither seemed bothered in the slightest. They shifted almost imperceptibly, getting more comfortable, but barely budged at all.

“Whoops,” said the hypnotist, grabbing the chair by its back and nimbly leaning forward to stand it back up, behind the three male forms lying prone on the stage. He turned to the audience.

“Didn’t see that one coming, did you?” he said with a grin. There were a few chuckles. Someone applauded. “This guy’s a really good subject, that’s why I could do that. You don’t usually slip a trigger in during an induction. But it’s my favorite part, so I figured what the hell?”

The hypnotist strode across the stage to a small bottle of water sitting next to the mic stand, bent down, grabbed it, and took a swig. Hector looked over at me. “Let’s just go.” I nodded. It still didn’t cross my mind that I wasn’t going anywhere, even though we’d already had this conversation. I was seriously just about to get up and leave, any second now.

Meanwhile the hypnotist was in conversation mode, talking to the audience:

“Actually, most of these guys are. This is a pretty incredible group, so I think we’re gonna have a great show.” This elicited another smattering of applause. “I probably could’ve started messing with a lot of them already,” he said, strutting back toward Hector and me as he took one last swig of the water. “I just wanted to keep things moving.”

He set the bottle back down on the stage and turned toward us, addressing Hector. “I did fuck around in your head a bit too, though,” he said, totally po-faced. Everyone laughed hysterically, except Hector, whose expression was a perfect blend of confusion and discomfort. I have to admit, I cracked just a little smile, too – mostly because of the timing – but I tried to hide it.

“Man, seriously, he and I are just gonna go,” said Hector, hiding all but a quiver of nervousness, while pointing at me with his thumb. “I’m pretty sure I’m not even hypnotized, so I don’t know what you’re talking about anyway.”

“That’s cool man,” said the hypnotist, squatting down to his haunches in front of him so the two were at eye level. “I just want to thank you for coming up here and giving it a try.” He took Hector’s right hand, which was resting on his lap, and shook it gently. Hector half moved to pull it away, but the hypnotist’s eyes had connected with his and a strange placidity seemed to overcome him all of a sudden.

“It takes guts to come up on stage, so you should be proud of yourself. But the funny thing about hypnosis can be the way it creeps up on you. Like you said you’re not hypnotized right now, but sometimes, that can be the indication that you’re hypnotized very deeply. You can just be sitting with someone, talking calmly, and it seems like there’s no indication whatsoever that anything is happening, when in fact, you’re so wrapped up in enjoying that experience, the experience of being with that person, of talking, listening, maybe even being hypnotized, that you don’t notice the details of the outside world beginning to fade away, the borders of your conscious and unconscious, your thoughts and dreams, beginning to grow hazy, indistinct, to the point where it doesn’t even matter anymore, because you’re so caught up in the moment, enjoying that person and that experience, that it doesn’t matter whether it’s a dream or real, fantasy or reality, whether you’re awake...”

He paused. I had been zoning out a bit during what he said, ‘cause it was sort of winding and complicated, logic wrapping back upon itself like a snake. I noticed Hector must have slowly moved forward during the course of this monologue, leaning in more and more intently. His left hand still rested on his shorts, his fingers hanging limply off his leg over his inner thigh. His right hand was still in the hypnotist’s, who continued shaking it slowly, gently, methodically. I could see the muscles up and down Hector’s arm, sheathed in the taught tan flesh revealed by his wifebeater, were completely slack. His arm was like a rubber band or a piece of rope. His full, brown lips parted slightly, gentle, rhythmic breaths slowly being drawn in and pushed back out. His eyes remained locked on the hypnotist’s, yet his lids hung so heavy his rich chocolate pupils were barely visible underneath. His gaze had a daydreamer’s quality, of someone trying to work out a particularly complex idea. He looked like he was a million miles away.

The hypnotist never broke his stare for an instant. It seemed like for as long as he could maintain this gaze, Hector would hold it, lost in an endless dream. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the hypnotist concluded tenderly, barely even reaching the height of a whisper, “...or asleep.”

As he said this, with his left hand, which had been floating all this time right between his and Hector’s faces holding the mic, the hypnotist deftly, quietly snapped the very tips of his fingers and rested the hand on Hector’s shoulder, applying just the slightest nudge as he gently, almost imperceptibly, tugged forward on Hector’s hand.

Even after just seeing him put under ten or so guys already, I can still say I’d never seen anything like it. It was like Hector’s entire soul poured out of his body, every worry, fear, doubt, trepidation and anxiety gushing to the ground like so much water. His mind seemed to overload on bliss, eyelids fluttering closed, eyes rolling back into his skull and his body plunging forward like a sack of potatoes from a speeding pick-up truck. He no longer even looked human, but more like a collection of wet rags that had been stuffed inside the husk of a 21-year-old Latino football player. I thought of Hector out at bars picking a fight, always ready to take on the biggest guy in the room ‘cause he was sensitive about being 5’5”; I thought about him on the couch in the frat, cramming for an exam while the rest of us played video games on the floor in front of him. Hector Aguilar was a serious, high-motivation kind of guy. I had never in my life seen him like this, anywhere near like this, and if it hadn’t been for the barely visible half-smile that flitted across his face, I would have felt like I was attending his funeral.

Hector collapsed into the hypnotist’s waiting arms, sprawling forward with absolute abandon. He would have face-planted if the guy hadn’t been there to catch him. This resulted in another chair toppler, but Hector, in contrast to Josh, went so completely limp that his legs immediately splayed out behind him, knocking the chair to its side and on top of Josh’s legs.

The hypnotist had an arm wrapped around his waist across the back, and Hector’s head gently rested against his shoulder, his mouth half-open, his eyes tightly closed, and his soft, tan skin perfectly smooth, every muscle as loose and relaxed as it could be. The hypnotist gently let him slide down, pulling himself away and letting him slip to the stage like an old, wet rug.

Having backed up now, still in his squat this whole time, the hypnotist laid a hand on Hector’s smooth, bare shoulder and whispered, “Sleeeeeep.... Every breath, every word, every sound takes you deeper. And I want you to shake your head if you have ever felt this good before.”

Hector was still as a photograph.

“And if you have never felt this good before, I want you to sleeeep. Go deeper and deeper. Because every time you go deeper, every time you let any little thing take you deeper, you feel even better. And the better you feel, the deeper you’ll go; and the deeper you go, the better you’ll feel. Better and better, deeper and deeper to sleep for me.”

The hypnotist stood back up and turned once more to the audience, breaking into a dirty grin. “That shit’s better than sex, right?”

Everyone laughed.

“Before I get to Mike here, is there anyone out there who dropped off in the audience? Just wave around, point them out. That’s my favorite part about that bit, we usually get some special guests. Anybody?”

A few people around the room were raising their hands, though it was a little hard to see over the stage lights. The hypnotist hopped off the stage and started making his way through the audience. I couldn’t really see more than shadows, but I could still hear his mellifluous voice humming through the PA.

“The young lady I’m touching right now, I’m going to count from one to three, and as I do, you’re going to feel your eyes open, your mind emerging awake, refreshed, and happy to be here, ready to enjoy the show and all these handsome gentlemen. One…two…three!”

Some chuckles erupted in a spot toward the center of the room. I wondered what he meant by “special guests” and “handsome gentlemen.” Why wasn’t he bringing her up on stage? If there was anything this show needed, it was chicks. So far I hadn’t seen any. That was the whole reason we were here.

The girl said something that I couldn’t really hear because she wasn’t mic’ed, but there was more chuckling from around her. “You have a good night, and again, enjoy the show,” said the hypnotist warmly.

Some more snickers. The hypnotist moved further back into the room. I could barely see anything now but inky flickers.

“This is just for the person I’m touching now. At the count of three, I’m going to snap my fingers and say ‘wide awake.’ When I do, you’re going to wake up confused, because you’re not in your right seat. You won’t know how you got here, or who you’re with. All you’ll know is that your seat is up at the front of the room, onstage. In fact, you’re going to be so happy to get back up there, you’re going to skip all the way across the room, climb up on stage, find that seat, wave to the audience and give them a big thumbs-up to let them know you’re right where you’re supposed to be, then sit down and immediately drop straight back into this deep, wonderful state of relaxation, because you’re finally where you belong. This seat right here is all wrong at the count of one…two…three.” Snap. “Wide awake.”

There were more chuckles and some shifting toward the back. “What are you doing back here, man?” asked the hypnotist.

I just barely heard someone mutter something and more chuckles, which rippled through the audience as a form bobbed its way through the dark crowd to the front of the room. Somehow prance-climbing the stairs at the side of the stage, it made its way into the light, and I saw a lanky, slender hipster guy around his mid-20s, in a teal V-neck, tight black jeans and heavy brown work boots. His brown hair was shaggy, with a little emo flop at the front that bounced as he skipped his way across the stage to an empty chair. Under normal circumstances, I would have been laughing at how ridiculous he looked, a hip little scenester prancing across the stage like a three-year-old in pre-school. But right now, I was more preoccupied with trying to ensure I didn’t end up doing something similar myself.

Still prancing across the stage, dodging through the piles of prone bodies, the guy made his way to the nearest empty seat – one toward the back of the stage which had once held either Jay or Sam – turned toward the audience, smiled broadly and gave a huge thumbs-up, sat down, and promptly collapsed forward, folding in half, arms dangling limply between his legs, fingertips gently grazing the floor.

“That was Dylan, in case anybody didn’t catch it,” the hypnotist said into the mic.

“Did I miss anybody else?” he continued, poking around the room. I could hear a few people talking toward my side, but he didn’t seem to notice him. A couple of them yelled louder, “Over here, over here!” while someone else continued talking softly, seeming a little angrily.

The hypnotist picked his way over.

“Oh, look what we have here.”

There was a little chatter and some giggles.

“Holding out on me?” he asked. I couldn’t see anything but some black forms toward the back of the room, but I could hear the wry smile in his voice.

“I want him watching the show with me. I don’t want him going up there and embarrassing himself.” The voice was a male’s, deep and gruff, older sounding.

“Aw, you wouldn’t want to deprive your fellow spectators of a little cutie like that, though, would you? Particularly one who’s never even been up here.”

There were some calls and hoots from throughout the audience.

“You do remember everyone goes under, don’t you? You know if I wanted to I could have you back in trance like that, right?” The hypnotist’s voice was dropping lower. “It’d be so easy, with the lights low like this, the light from the candle on this table flickering in my eyes. You’re already staring, aren’t you? You started doing it unconsciously the second I began talking, because I know my eyes – they’re hard to resist. And now, even though I bring this up, you find for some reason, you just can’t look away. And you feel that pleasant warmth from before creeping back in, the relaxation and fuzziness. So easy to recall because you experienced it just moments ago. And it would be so easy to let go, to give in again and let your eyes flutter closed. So easy to stop worrying about all those unimportant things, like keeping yourself awake, keeping your boy awake. Trying so hard to resist, when really it would be so much easier, so wonderful to just give in, to relax, to close those eyes and sleep, deep down, head resting on the table… That’s it. Deep breath in… Deep breath out. Sleeeeep…”

There was a brief pause before he continued. I found myself zoning out again as he spoke. There weren’t any candles up here, but I could almost see one in my mind’s eye, remember one, that unique, beautiful flickering light in a dark room. I shook my head, trying to bring myself out of it. I still had to extricate myself from this.

“In a moment I’m going to count to three. When I do, you’re going to wake up, thank me for an excellent show, head straight home and go to sleep, without a single thought or recollection about your little boy here. When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll have no memory of this evening except having a great time, and you’ll try to choose more age-appropriate partners in the future. Maybe you’ll even want them to boss you around a bit. Now, at the count of three: one… two… three.” He snapped.

The low, gruff voice sounded more jovial this time, and spoke right up. “Hey, thanks man, that show was really great!”

The audience erupted in gales of laughter.

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Yeah, every year it gets better and better. I better get home, I’m beat. Have a good night!”

“Hey, thanks man, you too. Sleep well.”

Everyone was laughing hysterically. I saw a shadow of someone toward the back, quickly gathering his things and starting toward the exit. The hypnotist moved over slightly and laid his hand on a prone form.

“Jeeze, wait ‘til you guys see this. Fuckin’ twink city...” Everyone laughed uproariously. What the fuck was a twink?

“This is just for the boy I’m touching now: In a moment, I’m going to snap my fingers and say ‘wide awake.’ When I do, you’re going to realize you’re a tired little boy and it’s way past your bedtime. As carefully as you can, you’re going to make your way up onto the stage, and you’re going to see there are a number of nice, comfy looking pillows just waiting for you to rest your head on. You’re even going to see a nice, comforting pacifier to suck on, and the moment you lie down and put your mouth on one of those pacifiers, you’re going to drop straight back down into this wonderful, deep state of relaxation. That all happens on three… One… two… three. Wide awake.”

He snapped. There was some shifting at the back of the room, and scattered giggles around the movement.

“Aw, are you tired? Come on, I think it’s time for bed…” said the hypnotist, doing his best impersonation of a doting parent. The “child” just mumbled groggily.

“Come with me, we’ll go have a nice rest. What’s your name?”

“Jake,” muttered the guy, groggily, in a childish voice. The two were heading up to the front of the stage, the hypnotist leading Jake by the hand. He was dressed in a Hollister shirt and jeans, and looked like old-school Justin Bieber or something – really boyish, thin as a rail, with a canted blonde emo bang flopping across his forehead. I could barely believe he was old enough to get into a bar.

The two climbed up onto the stage. “Ok, let’s get to bed. You can pick any pillow you like. Don’t they all look so comfy?”

Jake nodded, looking around. After a brief second, he shuffled over to Paul, got down on his knees, then down on the floor, and carefully laid his head on Paul’s tan short-clad ass, which was sticking right up in the air. Since he was facing me, I could see Jake look around groggily, his eyes finally alighting on Ant’s hand, which was sprawled out nearby. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of Ant’s thumb, pulling the hand toward him and plopping the thumb in his mouth. Instantly his eyes drooped closed again and his entire body went slack, nuzzling deeper into Paul’s upturned butt. His lips parted gently, Ant’s wet thumb falling from between them and dropping with a thud back to the stage floor. The audience chortled.

“We’re gonna have a ton of fun with him, I can tell,” said the hypnotist, to assorted cheers. He was slowly making his way across the stage toward me. Good. Now I could finally get myself out of here.

“That’s everybody out there, right?” he asked, turning quickly to the audience one last time. No one spoke up for a few seconds, so he turned back to me.

“And then there was one,” he said, giving me a smile.

I was at a loss for words. I struggled to think of a polite way to excuse myself.

“How about you, man. You feel hypnotized?” He extended the mic toward me.

“Uh… no?” I said, almost asking.

He laughed. “That’s right, man. We gave it a good try, but I just could not put you under. Why don’t you head back out in the audience and enjoy the show? Everybody give Mike a big hand for trying, huh?”

Applause filled the room. I looked around, somewhat confused. That was it? I could go? I had anticipated so much greater a battle. Slowly I got up, looking at the stage full of prone bodies to my left. This was sure as shit gonna show Ryan. I felt a little bad about Hector and Josh, but they were good sports. I was sure they wouldn’t have too much trouble living it down. Anyway, as generous a guy as I usually am, at times of public embarrassment, it’s all about looking out for numero uno, and I was glad to be out of the hot seat. I quickly shuffled past the row of prone bodies and over to the stairs, which I couldn’t bound down fast enough. As my eyes adjusted to the darker part of the room, I picked my way back to the table I had originally occupied, at which a couple young guys were now sitting. They were both wearing designer jeans and nice tops, with immaculately coifed hair. That combined with their proximity and obvious comfort with each other made me think they might be a couple. Whatever. Takes all kinds.

“All right, so I guess that means we’re ready to begin. I’ll just leave this chair here for right now, in case anybody else decides to join us,” the hypnotist muttered, to scattered chuckling. I wondered who else he was planning on getting up here. The guy seemed to have a knack for putting people under his spell.

“Before we begin, though, I just want to say a few more words about hypnosis. As you all may have noticed, we’ve been quite well-blessed this year in terms of subjects capable of attaining a very deep state of trance.” He pecked his way across the stage. “These two, for sure,” he said, pointing a thumb at Jake and his pillow Paul. Everyone laughed at that. “This guy I think’s gonna be a lot of fun too,” he said, pointing to Ant, who was still nestled comfortably in Parker’s ass next to Jake. “This guy definitely,” he said, pointing at Dylan, who was still sitting in his chair, folded neatly in half. “And definitely these two,” he said, motioning to Hector and Josh. “But really, all of them are pretty deep and are going to make excellent subjects. I’m just taking time to highlight a few really choice participants.

“That being said, as deep as some of these guys are, there are still people capable of going, naturally and automatically, even deeper. While most people are capable of eventually reaching very deep states of hypnosis with enough practice and training, a small percentage of the population is automatically deeply and readily hypnotizable. As you may have noticed, they’re capable of going into deep trance almost instantaneously, and the best part about this is it means these people are completely and totally open to suggestion. They respond excellently to commands and have exceptional levels of focus and concentration under hypnosis. A few of the guys up here are bordering on that line, and we’ll see how deep we can get them as the evening wears on, but thankfully, we’re lucky enough to be blessed with a truly rare and exceptional example of this type of person here with us tonight. In fact, I’d say in all my years doing shows like these, I don’t think I’ve ever encountered quite as good a subject. We hypnotists have a special term for this type of person. We call them a somnambulist.”

I had been looking around up to this point, examining the crowd of new girls who had filled in the table previously occupied by the ones we’d originally been hoping to see hypnotized. They were a little older looking, business-woman types, but still not unattractive, in a MILFy sort of way. They all had brightly colored cocktails and seemed like they were probably on a girls’ night out. I admit, I had only been half paying attention to what the hypnotist was saying this whole time, but something about that word he used made me realize I had no clue what he was talking about. Somnambulist. What the fuck was that? I was embarrassed to admit I was lost, but I didn’t want the show to be ruined, so I figured I’d better ask. If I didn’t understand, I was sure someone else out here didn’t either. I quickly got out of my seat and started making my way toward the stage, reasoning it would be more polite to interrupt there rather than shout.

“Hypnotists have a number of ways of recognizing somnambulists—” the hypnotist continued. There was that word again. My desire to get this cleared up doubled. I had never heard this word before and suddenly I had to know what it meant.

Reaching the front of the stage, I surprised even myself by putting my palms down on it and with one quick heft pushing myself up and onto the platform. I’d never been so eager to get a question answered in my life.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” asked the hypnotist warmly. I was glad to see my interruption wasn’t bugging him.

“Sorry, what’s that word you just said?” I asked.

There was some giggling from the audience. I guess I was kind of being a little awkward by interrupting, but I really didn’t care. I needed to get this resolved.

“You mean ‘somnambulist?’ Like I was saying, Mike, a somnambulist is someone who is inherently deeply hypnotizable. They’re able to go into trance almost instantly, and once hypnotized make exceptionally suggestible subjects.”

“Cool,” I said. This was interesting. I had never known there was so much to hypnosis. I wish they’d taught us about this in Psych.

The hypnotist put his arm over my shoulder and turned me slightly, so I was facing the audience. The lights on the stage were bright and disorienting.

“As I was about to say, we hypnotists have a number of signs we use to recognize somnambulists. Do you have any idea what those signs might be?”

“Not at all,” I muttered. Suddenly I was feeling vaguely ill-at-ease again. Having taken care of the nagging problem of my question, that desperate desire not to be up here, to make sure I didn’t make an idiot out of myself, was returning, and I was beginning to feel anxious again to get out of the public eye and into the safe darkness of the audience.

“Well, there’s a number of simple indicators, of course – the kind we use to test subject suggestibility in general: watering of the eyes, widening of the pupils, the quickness with which the subject enters a state of rapid eye movement upon being induced. But all that’s pretty complicated, and I’d imagine you probably don’t know much about it, huh?”

“Nah,” I shrugged, increasingly wanting to just run away. “We studied hypnosis a bit in Psych, but we didn’t really get into it that much.”

“Oh, that’s awesome,” the hypnotist smiled. “So, this is your first real experience with hypnosis?”

“I guess so,” I said nervously.

“They never put you under in class?”

“No,” I shrugged.

“As if he’d remember,” said the hypnotist to a huge laugh from the crowd. What did he mean by that? Of course I’d remember.

He pressed on. “Anyway, aside from all that boring stuff, there are actually a number of even more obvious indicators that a person is a somnambulist, and they’re much more entertaining. Any idea what some of them might be?”

I shook my head no.

“Well, for one thing, somnambulists have a compulsive desire to come up on stage whenever someone says ‘somnambulist.’”

The room rippled with laughter again. I felt like he was losing me. I didn’t see anyone rushing the stage at the moment.

“Beyond that, whenever they happen to end up at a hypnosis show, they feel a compulsive tendency to volunteer,” he said.

Again, the crowd laughed. I look around, squinting into the audience. I had no idea what was going on. I didn’t see anybody volunteering either.

The hypnotist looked at me with the slightest hint of a wry grin.

“You know any somnambulists, Mike?” he asked.

“No…” I said awkwardly into the microphone proffered me. People were busting a gut. I couldn’t understand it. “Maybe Josh and Hector?” I added after thinking.

“You look kind of uncomfortable, Mike. You want to get out of here?”

I nodded.

“Everybody give Mike another big hand for being such a great sport. Why don’t you go ahead and take your seat, Mike?” he said warmly. Applause rippled through the room again and I felt a wave of relief. Why the fuck did I come back up here after spending – how long was it? It felt like ages – being so desperate to get off the stage and back into the audience? Smiling and nodding politely at the hypnotist, I shuffled away as quickly as I could, back into my seat next to Hector’s overturned chair. Again, there was a rippling of laughter, and another, much more thunderous applause.

The hypnotist started approaching again. What the fuck was this guy’s problem? Why wouldn’t he just lay off? He was probably pissed after all that trouble that he couldn’t get me under. But I was starting to get annoyed.

“Mike,” he said. “I thought you didn’t want to be in the show.”

“I don’t,” I said, starting to let on my irritation. It was time to get tough with this asshole.

“Then can I ask why you took a seat up onstage?”

That caught me off guard. I hadn’t really thought about it. He just said to take my seat and this was what seemed normal. If I didn’t want to be in the show, I probably should have gone back to the audience…

I looked around, a little confused as my eyes scanned the stage and row of chairs full of prone bodies surrounding me. “Uh…” was all I could mumble, stupidly, into the microphone being held toward me.

The hypnotist moved into a crouch beside me, so we were down at the same level and he could better play to the audience.

“Can I ask you another question, Mike?” he said with, as always, a welcoming smile.

Again, “Uhhh,” was all I could manage, stupidly.

“What’s up with your arm, man?” he asked.

“What?” I replied, utterly bewildered. I hadn’t known anything was up with my arm. I had almost gotten that tattoo over winter break, but at the last moment chickened out.

He looked up above my head to the right of me. My eyes followed his, and I suddenly realized that my right arm was sticking up straight in the air, held aloft as if I were waiting to ask a question in class. I quickly snatched it down.

“Why were you holding your arm up, Mike?”

“I… uh…” I sputtered, totally at a loss. I hadn’t even known it was doing it, much less why.

“Are you volunteering for my show?”

I shook my head no.

“Can I ask you one last question, Mike?” he said, leaning in. I couldn’t even manage a response.

“Up until now I’ve been saying you couldn’t be hypnotized, that I couldn’t manage to get you under.” I nodded, gulping. That was right. He had said that. And I definitely wasn’t hypnotized. I was sure of it.

“But what if I told you that you were already deeply hypnotized, the most deeply of anyone up onstage, and that you were such a good subject that it was very easy for me to convince you you’d never been hypnotized at all?”

I stared him in the eye for what seemed an eternity, at a complete loss for words. He had to be pulling my leg. If he’d managed to put me under like Josh and Hector and Ryan, surely I’d remember it. Surely I’d remember slumping all over the stage like they were, remember him tapping me on the forehead and putting me out, remember anything. All I could remember was coming up onstage to get my hands unstuck (a simple psychological trick) and then waiting around while he put everyone else to sleep. And I was sure that if I was hypnotized now, something would feel different. I don’t know. I would be flightier, or an emotionless zombie, or something. Looking at Hector and Josh’s faces, they’d seemed a little zoned out, like they had this blissful air about them that was just a bit more relaxed than usual. I didn’t feel anything like that. Everything seemed fine.

Finally, I broke into a wide grin. This guy was just having some fun with me. He was a little pissed off that he couldn’t get me under, and I already knew from the hand trick he was good with mind games. He was just messing with my head, getting me to do these things. He’d let me go back in a second after we all had a good laugh when I called him out on it.

“Come on, man,” I said. “I know I’m not hypnotized. I don’t feel hypnotized at all.”

“You want to know a great way to find out?” He gently put his palm on my right arm, which was now resting comfortably on my lap. “Just look me straight in the eye right here,” he said, pointing up with his left hand.

I turned my head to the side and met his gaze. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, arresting, the kind of color you rarely see and which immediately holds your attention. For some reason, I felt strangely calm about this, not nervous at all. I was just patiently waiting for the punchline of whatever gag he was pulling.

The hypnotist blinked once. I blinked too. He blinked twice, and I blinked again. I felt even calmer now, just waiting for the final shoe to fall – so calm, in fact, that I even felt my eyelids droop a little, lazily. The hypnotist smiled. I smiled back, my head wavering a bit as I held his gaze.

“Sleep, Mike,” he said, gently tugging my hand by the wrist, pulling it just hard enough so that the motion yanked my torso ever so slightly forward. He snapped the fingers of his left hand, which I hadn’t noticed had migrated from pointing at his eye to hovering beside my ear. And suddenly I felt as though everything in me, every ounce of stress, worry, and tension, including about being up here, being embarrassed in front of my friends and making an idiot out of myself in front of a large group of strangers, just disappeared. I collapsed forward, my mind going completely empty; my head coming to rest toward the front of my lap, between my knees; my arms hanging limply at my sides, fingers gently trailing against the floor.