The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s hard to describe the state I found myself in after that. I wasn’t asleep—in fact, I was rather well aware of a number of things going on around me, but exactly what they were was strangely limited. I was aware of the side of my right cheek rubbing softly against the fabric of my pants, and I could even adjust my head ever so slightly to eliminate some of the rough feeling of the fabric. I was aware of my arms hanging at my sides, fingers trailing on the floor, but I felt like I had absolutely no power to move them, and even if I had, I didn’t have any desire to. The only reason I moved my head, which I hadn’t even stopped to think about, was to get more comfortable. It was as if that was the only thing that mattered. Nothing else warranted thinking or moving or any effort of any kind. I was just enjoying being here.

I could rather keenly hear someone walking around nearby, and I could hear him speaking as well, though I wasn’t really able to focus on what he was saying in any way. Somehow, I knew that when it concerned me, I’d know what to do and the message would come through, but for now all I was concerned with was my own comfort. My muscles felt loose, totally limp and relaxed in a way I couldn’t think of ever feeling before, except maybe after my girlfriend Katie had given me one of her trademark massages in high school. She was a wizard with a massage, and I had thought at the time that nothing could leave me feeling more relaxed than she could. But this beat that by a mile.

As I lay there, thinking about Katie’s massages and how comfortable I was feeling, I could hear more talking, and even sense some movement off in the distance. I felt someone move in close, right next to me, and then the feeling of something warm and heavy and soft slumping over onto my back. I didn’t care. It didn’t bug me. I felt great. I just relaxed further as a response to the pressure on my back.

After a completely indeterminate amount of time, I felt the pressure gently lift, and I realized it was probably time to sit up myself, that I Would Be a Lot More Comfortable That Way. I pulled myself back up and leaned back in the chair, letting my legs slide gently forward so they were sticking out in front of me and spread wide apart. I felt my left leg brush against something warm and slightly hairy, but no big deal. I stretched back, sticking my arms up in the air. Goddamn I felt good. I let my arms fall back to my sides and my head loll slightly to the left. I smiled and took a deep breath in, happy at how good it felt to be alive. My only complaint, if I had any, was that it was perhaps just a bit too hot. That was easy enough to fix, however.

I reached up with my right hand and grabbed the already low-slung collar of my tank top, tugging it rapidly away from and toward me to get some fanning through the neck. It helped some, but I still felt hot. In fact, it seemed to be getting hotter and hotter by the minute. I began tugging at the shirt more rapidly while reaching up and fanning myself with my left hand. My left arm brushed something as I pulled it up, but I barely paid attention. I was starting to sweat and breathe a little more heavily, and I had to cool myself down. Goddamn it was hot.

Giving up on the shirt, I switched to fanning myself with both hands, which I could remember someone once telling me actually only made you hotter because of all the movement, but I continued anyway because I wanted the breeze. My guess is that they must have been right, though, as no matter how much I fanned it only seemed to get hotter. My hands were flailing now, and I was gulping breaths of humid air. I reached up with one hand and wiped desperately at my brow, which was dripping with sweat by this point. What else could I do to cool off?

Finally, in a fit of desperation, I simply grabbed the neck of my shirt and pulled it clean over my head, shrugging it off. I tossed it to the side—who cared where?—and continued fanning myself, panting, still desperately hot. I almost felt like I could hear a soft murmur in the distance, like laughter or applause, but I figured it was probably just a natural sound of wherever I was—waves lapping on a beach or something.

Still panting and flailing my hands, I reached down and unbuckled my belt, unzipped the zipper of my shorts, leaned forward and yanked them down into a pile on the floor. I kicked off my sandals, too, and then resumed fanning myself desperately.

Thankfully, removing the pants seemed to work, as the heat quickly began subsiding and I started to feel comfortable again. Slowly, I let my hands drop to my sides, dangling gently in the perfect, mid-70s breeze. I relaxed back in my chair and took a deep breath to bring back some calm after all the panting. I reached up gently with my left hand and scratched my neck, then let it fall. I didn’t want this incredible sense of comfort ruined by some stupid itch.

Aside from that, things were perfect, if perhaps a tiny bit on the cool side—70 is, of course, a few degrees cooler than you’d generally like, but I could survive. I was starting to wish perhaps that I hadn’t kicked off my shorts, but I could live with things as long as it didn’t get any colder.

Unfortunately, it did. It seemed as though a cool breeze must have swept through the place or something, because suddenly I actually began to feel a chill. I shivered and clasped my arms across my chest, wishing I hadn’t taken off my clothes.

Fuck, it was getting colder. With each passing second, I found my body increasingly wracked with shivers, and I quickly pulled my legs up into my chest, wrapping my arms around them and pulling them tight against me so I was folded up in a ball.

Unfortunately, it was still a ball of bare flesh, which did little to protect me against the insanely frigid temperatures that by now had to be in the 20s or even teens. I struggled to think of something to do, anything to warm myself. I would have killed for a blanket at that moment, anything, not just to warm me but simply to shield me from the elements.

Suddenly, I remembered that thing I had been rubbing up against. How could I forget? I wasn’t here alone! It was like any of those survival movies where people get lost in the wilderness—you have to huddle together to stay warm.

Quickly, I reached out to the sides of me, and my hand thankfully brushed against something to my left. Shuddering and shaking, I reached out blindly and found it reaching back. I leaned over and wrapped my arms around it, a warm, firm form that felt great beneath my trembling hands. I dragged my chair so it was rubbing up against the chair next to me and pulled myself in as closely as possible, gripping the form beside me tightly as it too reached out, wrapping its shaking warmth around me. God those arms felt good, soft and hot against my flesh, and I could feel more rubbing my forearms, maybe from someone on the other side of my savior.

The wind howled even further and it had to be getting colder—I would bet my life it was below zero now and falling fast. The little scraps of warmth against me felt good, but I wanted to pull myself in closer—had to, in fact, if I was going to survive—and I found myself tugging my legs up, pulling myself back toward that ball position and sliding my legs around this stranger, throwing my right leg over its lap and pulling my entire body up tight along its warm side. I felt arms wrapping around me tighter, two powerful, warm arms embracing my torso, and arms from the person on the other side reaching in closer too, crawling further up my body. A leg draped itself across my leg and it felt good to have them partially intertwined as we both pulled ourselves closer to the body in the middle, quaking violently.

All this helped somewhat in the middle, where the heat could be trapped, but my bare back in particular was still feeling colder and colder as the winds howled, driving the temperature deep into the arctic negatives. I heard a violent chattering like far-off laughter, which I reasoned must be the wind whipping across the crags of the arctic tundra, and I nuzzled my face deeper into the chest and neck beside me. My lips quivered, my teeth chattered, my body shook, violently vibrating in tandem with the quaking flesh pressed against it. I didn’t think there was anything more I could do but I hugged it still tighter, and felt it hugging me back, a powerful, warm force against my sternum.

“Wide awake.”

The voice was calm, not loud or over-emphatic, just a simple, gentle command. My eyes snapped open. Where was I? Late for school? Had I fallen asleep on the bus?

I looked down and saw Hector pressed against me—or, more accurately, I was pressed against him. In fact, he was nearly holding me like a baby. Our chairs had been scooted tight up against each other, the legs entangled in a metallic jumble, and I was slid over so far on my own seat I was halfway onto his, my butt pressed against the side of his leg and looking very close to migrating to his lap. I realized as I saw this that I was in my underwear, a pair of tight black boxer-briefs, since I figured they showed off my package and I’d been hoping to score sometime tonight (fat chance of that, I thought, somewhere on the 17th or 18th level of priority at this point). My left leg was tucked in a tight triangle up on Hector’s lap, and my right splayed out all the way across it, comingling with Josh’s left, which was reaching over toward me. Josh and Hector were thankfully still wearing pants, which made this whole thing seem a little less gay by maybe 2%, but Hector’s shirt had come off and Josh had stripped off his polo above the waist and was down to a tight, white wifebeater he had worn beneath. Josh’s bare arm was rubbing against my forearm as we both gripped Hector from either side, and Hector’s tan, muscular arms were wrapped tightly around me, our bare, muscled flesh pressed together so close it almost seemed fused atomically.

With a jolt I yanked myself away, shoving my own chair so hard to the side it shot out from under me, sending me careening to the floor. Josh yanked back in the opposite direction, and Hector pulled back, sending his chair scraping across the stage floor loudly. Where the fuck was I? And why was I half naked holding one of my friends in a death grip?

Wide-eyed and splayed back on my elbows, I looked forward and saw a row of chairs receding in a line off into the distance. Aside from my friends, I most quickly recognized a thin, lanky guy with dark hair styled up in a spiky black mohawk. I think he’d been wearing a wifebeater before, though right now it was gone, revealing a taught, sinewy chest crowned with a pair of a small, dark nipples peaking out from between a dully colored mosaic of tattoos. Recognizing him from the hypnosis show—I think his name was Ant?—I quickly put two and two together. But I hadn’t wanted to participate. What were my friends and I doing up here on stage?

From the looks of it, everyone else was as surprised as I was. Several people had yanked themselves apart so violently they’d splayed back onto the person to the other side of them, and were now pulling away from them as well. Ryan, I could see, was still extricating himself from the jumbled limbo of scrawny brown flesh that constituted Arpit, who seemed groggier than most. Ryan, shirtless as well—surprise, surprise—was pushing him to the side, back into his chair, and Arpit was mostly just lolling there.

Next to them were Paul, the guy with the shaggy hair, and Jake, the Hollister kid who’d come up out of the audience and fallen asleep on Paul’s ass. Paul was just pulling his t-shirt back on, and Jake, still dressed, just sat there, glancing over at him from time to time, looking dazed and disoriented.

Ant was next to them, and was getting up to grab the dishraggy pile of his shirt off the stage. Next to him was Parker, Paul’s friend, who was still dressed, and sat looking around uncomfortably.

Jay and Sam were next, and one was still wearing a shirt while the other had his resting in a crumpled ball on his lap. Both were staring at the ground kind of distantly. Next to them, Len, the Asian guy, was trying his best to straighten himself in his seat, though still slouching. He was blinking his eyes over and over while reaching up to adjust his tie, which had been tugged loose. His collar was unbuttoned, pulled roughly open, and his entire ensemble was more rumpled than before. I surmised he, Jay and Sam must have formed another little triptych, as at the end of the row Kyle’s chair was pushed a distance away, and the hypnotist was standing next to it, looking down at him. For his part, Kyle was looking back up at him, blinking, bleary eyed.

The audience was howling with laughter. “Hey,” said the hypnotist, looking down. Floppy-haired Kyle said something I couldn’t hear, but it was apparently another side-splitter. I surmised he and the hypnotist had probably been uncomfortably close.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” asked the hypnotist, addressing all of us. The audience roared as people scrambled about, confused. “I know it’s spring break, but I’m trying to do a hypnosis show,” he said. “Get those clothes back on.”

There was more laughter from the audience, and a few scattered boos. “I know, I know…,” the hypnotist said with a smile. Hector was on his knees, searching around under the chairs for his tee. I spotted my sandals toward the front of the stage, and what looked to be my pants, as well as my shirt lying off to the side, like it had really been heaved away. In a low crouch, I darted forward and grabbed everything, dashing back to my seat. The hypnotist, making his way behind the row of chairs, stopped and deposited Ryan’s shirt in his lap from behind as he vainly searched the floor in front of his seat. Hector seemed to have finally found his top as well, shoved in the back under Josh’s chair, and was rising again and pulling it on as I sat down beside him.

“Mike, what the fuck?” asked the hypnotist. My mouth gaped open and I just babbled incoherently. I honestly had no idea why I was nearly nude on his stage pawing at my friend while he was trying to do a show. I didn’t even want to be here.

“You woulda been bare-ass naked if I didn’t stop you,” the hypnotist said to a chorus of guffaws. I lifted my butt up slightly as I pulled my shorts back on, quickly zipping the zipper and buttoning them up. “I guess we’ve found tonight’s hypno-slut,” he added, eliciting a chorus of cheers and catcalls. Was he talking about me? I had no idea what was going on. I tried to focus on re-buckling my belt, and finally I got the last loop pulled through.

“As a matter of fact…” he said, walking the rest of the way back to me. “Deep sleep,” he said, snapping his finger next to my ear.

I looked up at him. What was with this guy? Was he still trying to hypnotize me?

“Do you know why you’re naked, Mike?” he asked. He held out a mic to me.

Jesus, what was this guy’s problem? He’d been talking to me longer than anybody and he still couldn’t get my name right!

“My name’s not Mike. It’s Hypno-Slut,” I said gruffly.

“Sorry?” he asked.

What a doofus. “My name is Hypno-Slut,” I stated more emphatically.

“Oh, sorry man. I thought you said it was Mike.”

“Na-ah.” I’d told him like twenty times already. I thought he’d even said it himself. “It’s Hypno-Slut.”

Hector and Josh were staring at me strangely. They weren’t laughing, but they seemed perplexed, behind a foggy distance in their eyes. The audience, on the other hand, was laughing uproariously. I assumed it was because the hypnotist was making a total ass of himself. Some stage professional—can’t even remember the names of the ten people in his act. I assumed that was what Hector and Josh were bewildered about as well. Ryan, as usual, was too wrapped up in himself to care, and was still struggling to get his shirt back on.

“Is that like a nickname or something?” asked the hypnotist.

“Nope.” I shook my head.

“So your full name is…?” he held the mic closer.

“Hypno-Slut Robert Augostino,” I replied matter-of-factly. The audience broke down in hysterics.

“No shit, man, really? That what it says on your driver’s license?”

I reached behind me, pulled my wallet out of my back pocket, opened it up, and yanked out my license. I handed it over to him.

“It says Michael here,” he said after a second.

He handed it back to me and I looked at it. “Michael Robert Augostino.” Who the fuck was that?

“That’s a misprint,” I said to gales of laughter. People in the audience were dying. It was a simple mistake, though. I remembered now, getting this at the DMV. I always figured I should get it corrected, but just kept putting it off. The lines there are so long.

“That’s all right, Mike, just put your clothes back on,” he said, walking away.

I nearly blew a gasket. “It’s Hypno-Slut!” I screamed. Everyone was laughing their asses off. This guy was a fucking embarrassment. He would have been unprofessional at a high school prom.

“Sorry, sorry, I got it, man,” he said, reaching the other end of the line. He snapped his fingers right next to Kyle’s head and made a little click of the tongue as he passed, whispering “Deep sleep… Remaining upright…” Kyle’s eyes closed and his head slumped to one side, his long brown hair jostling from the move.

“You all set there, Len?” the hypnotist asked, turning to the guy next to him, who was still fiddling with his tie. That reminded me to pull on my shirt.

“Night,” I heard him say just as I was popping my head back out the neck hole. Len’s body slumped to one side, head lolling to a rest on either Jay or Sam’s shoulder—whichever one had been shirtless, though he was clothed again now. There was giggling from the audience.

“You don’t mind, right?” asked the hypnotist. “I think you two are pretty close already.” The audience laughed.

“You usually get that friendly?” he continued.

Another laugh. Both guys seemed at a loss for a response.

“Do me a favor and sleep on it,” said the hypnotist, clicking his fingers in between them. They both slumped sideways, heads clunking into each other, their bodies going completely limp in their seats. I slipped my sandals on, then continued to stare glassily down the row of chairs. Everyone was looking down the line. I’m not quite sure why, when I felt I probably had a million things to say to Hector. Even ignoring the fact that we were just dry-humping each other, we should at least be thinking about finding a way out of here.

“Can everybody else line your seats back up? It’s getting sloppy down here. We’ll get started in just a second.”

Everybody shuffled a little, bringing their chairs in line with those next to them. Hector pulled his forward, and I pulled mine back closer to his, though not too close. I didn’t want them shoved together again.

“Awesome.” The hypnotist walked down the row, quickly clicking his fingers next to everyone’s ear and whispering “sleep” or “deep down now” or something along those lines. Parker, Ant (still shirtless), Jake, Paul, and Dylan all went in quick succession, their bodies collapsing loosely into their chairs and heads lolling back, sideways, or forward into their chests.

“You doing okay there, Arpit?” he asked, stopping next to the Indian dude. Arpit nodded groggily.

“I think he’s out to give Mike a run for his money,” the hypnotist said to some chuckles. Which one up here was Mike? Probably some guy toward the other end. I couldn’t remember them all.

“Tell you what, Arpit. Since you’re such a good subject, I’m going to give you the opportunity to hypnotize yourself. You wanna try?”

Arpit looked a thousand miles away. After what seemed an eternity, his face remaining totally placid the entire time, he shrugged and nodded.

“All right, just click your fingers once beside your head, and you’ll put yourself right back under, a thousand times deeper.”

Arpit held up his hand and scrutinized his fingers for a second, though he seemed to be staring more through them than at them. Then finally he held them up beside his head, snapped them once, quietly, and keeled to the side, slumping into Ryan’s shoulder again.

“Dude, gay!” Ryan groaned, pushing him away. Arpit obediently lolled in the other direction.

“Uh, quick question,” said the hypnotist. “You guys are frat brothers, right?” He held the microphone up to Ryan.

“Yeah…” he said.

“You get as cuddly as these three here?” he asked, thumbing at us. Everyone burst out laughing. Ryan looked over at us, perplexed.

The hypnotist smiled. “Don’t worry about it, man. Sleep,” he said, clicking his fingers next to Ryan’s ear and pushing his shoulder forward. Ryan collapsed down, folding in half. His powerful arms and shoulders sagged like beanbags. I had never seen him like this, never seen anyone look so loose and at ease, except Hector and Josh a moment before.

“We’re gonna have fun with you three,” he said, stopping behind us. There was chuckling throughout the audience.

He held up his index finger so it was directly in front of Josh’s face, a few inches away. Josh’s eyes immediately focused on it, crossing slightly. The hypnotist dragged it down with a low whistle, Josh’s gaze instinctively following, drawing his head down toward his chest. “Sleep,” the hypnotist said with a snap of his fingers, finishing it off. Josh’s eyes slammed shut and his chin fell forward to rest against his slowly heaving chest.

“You ready to go night-night?” he asked, turning to Hector. Hector just stared at him.

“You know what’ll put you to sleep, man? A big pair of titties. Try not to think of a big pair of titties.” He stepped around to me as Hector’s head slumped back, his body splaying loosely in the seat next to me. The audience chortled.

“You enjoying the show?” the hypnotist asked me.

“What show?” I asked. “You haven’t even started yet.”

“Well, those guys look pretty hypnotized, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“But you’re not?”

I shook my head no.

“Well, thanks anyway. It’s always nice to have another volunteer.”

My left shoulder felt kind of stiff, and I reached upward to give it a good stretch. The audience laughed.

“And sorry, what was your name again.”

I groaned, really, truly exasperated. “Hyp-no-Slut,” I over-enunciated into the microphone he was holding out. More laughter. This was ridiculous.

“And with a name like Hypno-Slut, I couldn’t get you under?”

I shrugged. “I don’t see the connection.” The audience laughed.

“Tell you what, Mi- Hypno-Slut. I know a great trick to find out whether you’re hypnotized. You want to hear it?”

I shrugged again.

“Let’s try it out. Now, you think you’re not hypnotized, and your name is Hypno-Slut, right?”

I nodded.

“I’m pretty sure you are hypnotized, and I think your name’s Mike, ok?”

I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure he was just trying to get a rise out of me.

“So, tell you what. All you have to do is sing the song ‘Happy Birthday.’ Just sing it to yourself, real quick. If the name you say at the end is your real name, the one you were born with, nothing’s going to happen. You’ll stay wide awake. However, if you really are hypnotized and you’re singing the song with a name that’s not truly yours—and your subconscious will know and remember—then the second you finish, it’s going to put you back under, 100 times deeper than before. Wanna give it a shot?”

I sighed. Wearily I ran through the song in a half-sing/half-speak, to get through it as quickly as possible:

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear Hypno-Slut, happy birthday to me.”

I looked up at him. All of a sudden, I felt incredibly relaxed, more relaxed than I ever had before. I felt my entire body going slack as my eyes rolled up into my head, my eyelids fluttering closed as I drifted off into a deep, deep sleep.

“—wide awake.”

I looked around. What was going on? Where was I? Bright lights were shining and it was hard to see out in front of me. I looked to the side and saw Hector, and a row of people stretching beyond him, all of us sitting in chairs. We were at the hypnosis show, that was it. We had gotten dragged up here somehow hoping to see those girls get hypnotized, and now we had to get out of here. My mind struggled, foggily trying to come up with some polite excuse.

The hypnotist was at the front of the stage, halfway turned between the audience and us. “How’s everybody doing?” he asked. “About ready for the show to start?” Not likely. I was waiting for him to come up to people individually so I could beg off.

“We’re gonna begin in just a second. However, before we start, I just wanted to take a moment and make sure everyone up here is feeling relaxed and comfortable,” he said.

I was up until that point, but suddenly, I felt a strange, uncomfortable sensation in, of all places, my ass. It was like someone was roughly jamming a finger straight inside it, and it made me feel incredibly uncomfortable and violated. I must have jumped a mile in my seat, and I quickly turned and looked over at Hector, who had twitched himself. Whatever it was, it must have been him—he was the only one near me. I couldn’t figure out why someone who was supposed to be my friend would do something so violating.

“What the fuck, man?” I whispered angrily. He was looking around, seemingly confused, between me and Josh, probably attempting to displace the blame.

“What the fuck me?” he asked.

“Yeah, what the fuck dude, why are you touching my ass?” Josh said to him, angrily.

Ryan, of course, had gone through the roof.

“Get this faggot away from me!” he yelled, pushing Arpit in the other direction.

“What happened, man?” asked the hypnotist, stepping over and holding out the mic.

“This kid just shoved his finger up my ass!” Ryan yelled. The audience howled with laughter. I didn’t see what was so funny.

“No way, dude, you were touching me!” replied Arpit, grabbing the mic.

“All right, tell you what, how about you switch places with him down there,” the hypnotist said, pointing to Kyle at the other end of the line.

“Kyle, you mind switching places?”

Kyle, who had been staring awkwardly at Len this whole time and pulling his chair away, just nodded and got up, walking down the stage and giving Len the stink-eye. Arpit rose and, casting a final, scornful glance at Ryan, headed back to sit by Len.

“What happened, dude?” the hypnotist asked, turning to Dylan.

“That guy touched my butt,” he muttered blearily. Again, the audience chuckled. What kind of sociopaths was I sitting in front of?

“Is that what happened?” the hypnotist asked, turning to Paul.

“He touched mine!” he muttered, groggily too.

“How’d that feel?” asked the hypnotist.

Paul looked down and blushed. The audience laughed uproariously.

“What’s up man?” he asked, turning to Ant, who now had his black wifebeater back on. (Back on? When was it off?)

“Dude, fuckin’ freak…” he muttered, shaking his head and looking disgustedly at Jake.

“Did he do that to you?” the hypnotist turned to either Jay or Sam now.

Both of them were eyeing each other uncomfortably, pulling away.

“I know you guys are friends, but I didn’t really think you got that comfortable,” said the hypnotist.

I jumped again. This time Hector had clearly just reached over and shoved his finger up my ass! Plain as day! I didn’t really consider how he had managed to either get all the way up my shorts leg or under my belt so easily. All I knew is he must be some sort of ninja because I clearly felt a finger going straight up my ass.

“Hec man, what the fuck?” I yelled angrily. I couldn’t believe someone I trusted so much would do something like this to me—and not just once, even!

“Get the fuck off me, man!” yelled Ryan.

“Calm down guys! Calm down!” said the hypnotist, jogging over. I could hear the audience howling beyond the lights. “What happened?” he asked Ryan.

“He did it again!” Ryan yelled, pointing at Kyle.

“He wasn’t there before,” said the hypnotist, bringing on more laughter.

“I guess he’s really fast, then!” said Ryan. “Unless…” He turned and looked at Josh and everyone nearly busted a gut.

“Hey man, you touched me!” Josh exclaimed.

“Aw, I always knew you were a faggot!” he yelled.

“Just calm down, man, everything’s gonna be all right,” said the hypnotist. “How about you, Mikey? What’s up?”

“Hec, man, not cool,” I said, again looking suspiciously at my friend and pulling my chair further away.

“That is your name, right Mike?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, never taking my eyes off Hector. Honestly, I didn’t even want to be by him anymore. We had a long conversation ahead of us after this show.

“What’s your name?”

“I said Hypno-Slut, Jesus,” I said, exasperated. He had already said my fucking name twice, and now was neither the time nor the place to be making corrections.

The hypnotist turned toward the audience with a wink: “Best of both worlds.

“So, he really just stuck his finger in your ass?” he asked, switching gears.

“Yeah!” I cried.

“Man, frat guys really do get comfortable—”

I jolted again. I couldn’t believe Hector would have the fucking balls, right while everyone was staring at us! There was a chorus of obscenities across the stage and Ryan looked ready to hit someone.

“…but I never thought you got that intimate,” the hypnotist concluded.

My anger suddenly subsided. All of a sudden, the most wonderful, fragrant floral odor came out of nowhere. It was like nothing I had ever smelled before—not overripe or overpowering or anything like that, but a perfect balance of aromas and textures—absolutely 100% perfect. It was like smelling the best perfume a date had ever worn, times a hundred. If a girl had been wearing that, she could’ve looked like a cave troll and I would’ve been all over her.

Or, for that matter, like a guy. Somehow, I could tell the smell was coming from Hector, and I instinctively leaned in to get a better whiff.

Jesus, I was right. I don’t know what it was about Hector, but he smelled fantastic. I figured maybe he had tried some new cologne or something before we headed out (did Hec even wear cologne?), but whatever it was, I hadn’t noticed it until now. Jesus, it was incredible. I found myself sliding my chair closer to him, right up against his, in fact, as I leaned in closer to get at more of that incredible smell.

I didn’t really think about the fact that Hector had just molested me (repeatedly), or that he was a dude or my friend. I just had to get my nose into that smell as deep as I could. I was grabbing onto Hector’s warm, bare shoulder with my left hand and holding one of the straps of his soft wifebeater with my right, pulling my nose into the crux of his neck and shoulder, closing my eyes and taking deep, long inhales around his neck, cheek, and chin. These were left wide open as he turned to his right, doing something well beyond my scope of consciousness. Every once in a while, he would turn back toward me and run his nose over the side of my cheek, sniffing (what an odd thing to do, since I smelled normal…), but usually he would turn back pretty quickly, exposing more of his tan, brown flesh to my roving nose.

“That’s it, get in there nice and deep… That smells great! The best smell you’ve ever smelled, a thousand times better now…” the hypnotist was droning on, but I was barely listening. The smell coming from Hector’s body was just getting better and better. I couldn’t believe the whole world wasn’t right here with me, running their noses all over his beautifully-scented frame.

“That’s right. You might notice that that person’s armpit smells even better… That that’s where that wonderful smell is coming from…” he continued. I didn’t care. I could vaguely hear chuckling in the distance, as though from a far-off party or gathering, but I didn’t care about that either. The wonderful smell was only growing stronger, and I had realized that the source seemed to be emanating from, of all places, Hector’s armpit. At the moment, it didn’t occur to me that it was Hector’s, or an armpit for that matter. All I cared about was that it was the source of that heavenly odor, and I thanked god it was totally exposed by the sleeveless t-shirt so I could more easily get to it.

I pushed Hector’s arm up in the air for easier access, but constantly found it yanked away as he kept trying to turn to the right. I was beginning to grow frustrated, and was just on the periphery of my consciousness aware of the guy who was talking passing behind us, all the while continuing his boring diatribe—“better and better, each new breath smelling somehow even better than the breath before—just sleep, let it go…”

I felt his hand near me, brushing Hector’s forehead, and immediately Hector’s body went limp, his head rolling over the back of the seat and arms becoming loose as rubber. The source of the odor became a lot more pliable, and I took this opportunity to lift the tan, muscular arm up high and place it over my left shoulder, affording me perfect, unobstructed access to the dark, hairy cave of his armpit.

I dug my nose in deep, drawing long, wonderful breaths of air. I felt the tips of a couple of fingers resting gently on the back of my neck—“and the smell gets ten times more wonderful for you now”—and suddenly the smell was somehow even like ten times more wonderful, and I dug my nose in deeper, the bristly, sweaty hairs of Hector’s armpit rubbing in a thick forest over my nose as I inhaled breath after breath of the scent.

“And ten times more wonderful for you as well,” I heard the voice say, though I paid little attention as I didn’t feel the touch of his hand. I did feel increased tugging on Hector from the other direction, however, and I had to fight even harder to keep him close to me, so I could dig my nose still deeper into the moist, aromatic crevasse. The thing about all this was, in some back part of my mind, way, way, deep, deep down, and far, far gone, the tiniest little fraction of me did know that this was my friend Hector, that what I was smelling was actually a whole day’s worth of luggage hefted into airport shuttles, onto planes, into hotel rooms, and the general byproduct of a number of previous hours spent walking around in the blazing sun. That part of me, well, well off, somehow still knew that I was nose deep in a dude’s armpit, that it actually reeked, and that wherever I was, I probably looked mighty foolish and really should stop.

But the rest of me just didn’t care. It was too drunk on the wild aroma it was sniffing, too focused on getting as much of that as possible in me while I still could. I had the most minimal awareness of a vague chatter in the background, as well as of the speaker making his way away from me, continuing to drone on—“Arms way up man, like you’re riding a roller coaster…just about to crest the top of the hill…Here it comes! Are you ready? Sleep! And sleep… Sleep… Right next to you is a bouquet…the most beautiful bouquet of roses you’ve ever smelled, and one…two…three…”—but none of it mattered because it didn’t concern me. I was experiencing a rare treasure of existence, the Most Beautiful Smell in the World, and all I had to do was get closer while I had the chance.

“…And three. Wide awake. Man, what are you doing?”

I looked up and coughed. Something reeked. What was going on?

I looked over and saw Hector, dressed in a wifebeater and shorts, splayed out in the chair next to me. His head was drooping over the back, eyes closed, dark brown lips agape with a little sheen of drool dotting one corner. One of his tan, muscular arms was over my shoulder. I quickly brushed it off, and it rolled down behind me, the hand coming to rest on the back of my chair. The arm on the other side was over Josh’s shoulder, though Josh didn’t seem to care one bit. He had his entire face shoved deep into Hector’s furry armpit and was huffing away like a glue addict. Behind Josh, Ryan was clinging to his back, running his nose over the red fabric of Josh’s polo that covered his shoulders and side. He was going at it almost as frenetically as Josh was with Hector.

“What’s going on, man?” the hypnotist prodded, holding the mic out to me.

I shook my head in shock. “I have no idea…”

“They ever do this before?” he asked. I shook my head no. “Not even drunk?” I heard laughter coming from the audience. This was all just too weird.

“Come up front with me,” the hypnotist said. I quickly got out of my seat and accompanied him to the front of the stage. This might actually be a great opportunity to beg off and leave.

Already waiting there was Kyle, the somewhat stonerish dude with shaggy hair who had originally been occupying the other end of the stage.

“What the fuck is going on?” asked the hypnotist.

I surveyed the stage. Hector, Josh and Ryan were as I left them, with Hector socked out in his chair, his left arm now resting awkwardly on my seat. Josh’s face was pressed deep in Hector’s armpit, which he was rabidly sniffing; Ryan was crawling all over Josh, smelling his back, shoulder, and the nape of his neck.

It was obvious why Ryan had gone where he did, because the seat next to him, which Kyle had moved to, was empty. Next to this space was Dylan, who was burying his nose in the nape of Paul’s neck, while Paul, in turn, was huffing at the back and side of Jake.

In between Jake and Parker sat Ant, and he was in a strange position, camo short-clad legs sticking out forward, butt toward the front of his seat, leaning back in his chair with both his arms held high in the air as though frozen. These formed an unnatural contrast with his head, which lolled to one side, serenely, chin resting softly against his chest. Like Hector, Ant seemed to have his entire body relaxed, loose and limp like a D-student lounging in the back of class, while his arms were rigid as steel, sticking up in the air like goalposts. From the sleeplike expression on his face, he seemed completely at peace, totally oblivious to Jake and Parker, who were both kneeling on their seats with their faces absolutely buried in Ant’s furry pits, drawing long, deep breaths, blissful smiles on their faces.

To the other side of Parker were Jay and Sam, wrapped like lovers in an embrace, each running his nose from the nape of the other’s neck, down across his chest and into the crux of his upper pit. To the side of them, Len and Arpit had paired off in much the same manner: Len gently sniffing Arpit’s neck, a beatific smile plastered across his lips, while Arpit continually tugged at Len’s tie and collar, trying to loosen them and drive his nose deeper inside the warm interior of Len’s shirt.

I turned back to face the hypnotist. “I have no idea,” I said.

“Weird,” said Kyle.

“You guys would never do something crazy like that, right?” he asked.

Kyle cringed: “Hellllll no.” The audience guffawed. I wondered if maybe he had been hypnotized himself. He didn’t seem hypnotized, though.

The hypnotist turned to me. “No way,” I said confidently. I certainly didn’t plan on smelling any dude’s sweaty armpit.

“Yeah, you’d have to be pretty stupid to fall for something like that, right?” he asked. “Hey, sorry man, what was that name again?” he added.

“Hypno-Slut,” I answered matter-of-factly.

Kyle started laughing hysterically, along with everyone else in the audience. Thankfully, the hypnotist didn’t follow suit. I had almost thought it was because of something I did.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“That’s not a name!” Kyle chuckled. He had a giant, goofy grin on his face.

“Why not?” asked the hypnotist sincerely. He was a pretty good guy. What was this kid’s problem? I’d always been glad my mom gave me the name Hypno-Slut. She once told me she’d almost named me Calvin.

“It’s just not,” he said, laughing again.

“And what was your name?” asked the hypnotist, holding out his mic.

Smiling, Kyle opened his mouth, then suddenly froze. His face quickly fell into a look of frowning consternation, and he furrowed his brow slightly. “Uh…” he muttered stupidly.

“Oh, come on, Kyle, you must know your own name,” the hypnotist said. Kyle just stared at him, blinking, perplexed as ever.

Now it was my turn to laugh. Served this douche right.

“What’s so funny now?” asked the hypnotist, switching the microphone to me.

“This guy doesn’t know his own name! You just said it!”

“Oh, come on, Kyle knows his name, don’t you Kyle? It’s just right on the tip of your tongue, isn’t it, Kyle? And if you could just concentrate, you’d remember that it’s Kyle, wouldn’t you Kyle?”

Kyle just continued to stand there. His eyes rolled up a little, like anyone desperately trying to recall something—where they left their keys or whether they paid the phone bill.

“You want a hint, Kyle?”

Kyle nodded.

“Your name is Kyle.”

Microphone back at him. He just stood there, blinking stupidly.

“I bet Mike knows. Hundred bucks Mike gets this.”

He held the microphone out at me. “Uh, is it Kyle?” I asked, grinning.

“Any ideas?” He held the mic back at Kyle. Kyle just shook his head stupidly, admitting defeat.

“And your name again?” the hypnotist asked, turning back to me.

“Hypno-Slut,” I said, leaning forward and enunciating clearly, just to rub it in Kyle’s face. That would show the little asshole, laughing at a perfectly reasonable name.

The audience was laughing all this time. Served him right. I was glad the hypnotist had turned the tables on this punk.

“That’s pretty weird, huh?” the hypnotist smiled. “But, like we said, neither of you’s gonna do something stupid like that, right?” He gestured to the mass of bodies in the chairs, everyone still crawling all over everyone else, sniffing each other like dogs.

“Just out of curiosity, what would you guys say if I told you that one of you up here is actually one of the best hypnotic subjects I’ve ever worked with?”

Kyle, still looking kind of spaced out, pointed straight at me. The audience laughed.

“What do you say to that, Mike?” asked the hypnotist, holding out the microphone.

“Put him under, man,” I said. That got a big laugh, and some applause.

“Why do you keep calling him Mike?” Kyle interrupted. “Didn’t he just tell you his name was Hypno-Bitch or something?”

“It is, right Mike?”

I nodded.

“Oh, come on!” yelled Kyle. “You really don’t think you’re hypnotized when you go around calling yourself Hypno-Bitch? He hypnotized you to call yourself that!”

“Mike’s not hypnotized, are you Mike?” asked the hypnotist. I shook my head no. “Though we do thank him for being such a good volunteer.”

All that sitting and waiting had made me stiff. I lifted my arm to give it a good stretch. Everyone started laughing. Someone in the row of seats behind us must have done something funny.

“Oh, come on!” yelled Kyle, gesticulating at me. “This guy is totally hypnotized!”

“You hypnotized, Mike?” asked the hypnotist.

“Nope,” I said, matter-of-factly.

He shrugged. “Must be you,” he said, gently tapping Kyle’s forehead. “You can stand,” he added casually.

Kyle’s head instantly drooped forward and his arms flopped down, his longish, silky hair rustling wildly like the fronds of a weeping willow. His entire broad frame seemed to relax, though amazingly his toned legs remained perfectly stiff, keeping him supported. The whole thing was weird and pretty impressive. I’d never seen someone hypnotized before.

“Guess you win this round, huh?” the hypnotist asked, holding the mic up to me.

“Yup,” I said, smiling. The audience laughed.

“You wanna name him?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to go for.” Scattered chuckles.

“I think he gave us a pretty good one, actually,” said the hypnotist, reaching out and laying a hand on Kyle’s broad, slumping shoulder. “Kyle, for the remainder of the show, your name is Hypno-Bitch. The name Kyle is totally gone, vanished from your memory. You’ve completely forgotten about that time you couldn’t remember your name, because of course it’s obvious—your name simply is and always has been Hypno-Bitch. For the remainder of the show and indeed the rest of the evening…week…”—the hypnotist cast the audience an impish glance—“…if anyone should suggest anything else to be your name, you’ll find it absurd—the stupidest, goofiest sounding thing you’ve ever heard. Your name is, was, always has been and forever will be Hypno-Bitch, and you love that name, you’re very proud of it. Nod your head if you understand.” Kyle’s head nodded, his hair bobbing gently. It was so weird—if he could hear this guy and understand him, why the hell was he going along with something so ridiculous?

“Now, I’ve got another special surprise planned for Kyle,” the hypnotist continued, pulling Kyle closer to his side and keeping a hand resting firmly on his shoulder. “Hypno-Bitch, in a moment I’m going to snap my fingers and say ‘wide awake.’ When I do, you’re going to feel completely normal, completely awake and aware, just like usual. However, the second you open your eyes, you’re going to realize that that smell you were smelling just a few minutes ago—that wonderful, perfect smell, the best smell in the world—wasn’t coming from your neighbor. No, it was actually coming from Ant’s boots. You know Ant. He’s the tall guy sitting right in the middle of the stage, with the spiky hair and tattoos. He’s been walking around in the hot sun all day, sweating up a storm, and you know beyond anything that the real source of that smell, the best source, is all that odor that’s built up in his hot, sweaty workboots, because Ant’s smell is the fucking bomb. You’re gonna wanna take those off and bring them to a corner of the stage and just start huffing, because you want that wonderful odor all for you. At the count of one… two… three… wide awake.”

The hypnotist removed his arm from Kyle’s—er, Hypno-Bitch’s—shoulder and snapped his fingers. Kyle’s head popped up again as the life quickly returned to his upper body. He shook his head, sending his long, straight locks jostling.

“Now, you were saying about not being hypnotized?” the hypnotist asked, holding up the mic.

“Oh…yeah… Hold on, man, sorry…” Kyle muttered, pathetically and vaguely excusing himself. The audience cackled as he rushed across the stage and over to Ant’s outspread feet, promptly squatting down and tugging at Ant’s boots as hard as he could.

“You may wanna try the laces…,” the hypnotist said as he walked over. Kyle began furiously tugging at the knots in Ant’s boots, desperate to remove them.

“Sorry to bug you, I can see you’re busy, but did you ever get that name thing figured out?” asked the hypnotist, standing over Kyle. He held the microphone down by Kyle’s mouth as Kyle continued working furiously.

“Hypno-Bitch,” he said distractedly.

“Your name is… Hypno-Bitch?” asked the hypnotist incredulously. I laughed. This kid was really making an ass of himself, and in front of a giant crowd of people.

Of course, at just that moment, Kyle managed to pry the first boot free, and, like someone starved for oxygen, he quickly pressed his whole face into the dark interior of the top, inhaling a huge breath and letting forth a shuddering exhalation.

“Oh, yeah, that fucking rocks…” he moaned orgasmically, and the audience erupted in laughter and applause.

The hypnotist turned to them and grinned, muttering into the microphone, “I’ll just leave him with that…”

He started back toward me as Kyle flopped down on his butt, his left hand keeping the one boot firmly affixed to his face while with the right he blindly groped at the laces of the other.

“I guess that shows him,” said the hypnotist.

“I guess so,” I said, grinning.

“You wouldn’t do anything stupid like that, would you?”

I laughed again. “No way.”

“Can I ask you something? What do you think of the name Hypno-Bitch?”

I burst out laughing, muttering through my grin, “That’s the stupidest fucking name I ever heard…” The audience laughed. Kyle really did look like a jackass.

“And what was your name again?”

“Hypno-Slut,” I said. The audience was howling—had to be at Kyle.

“That’s great, man. Can I see that for just a second…?” the hypnotist asked, reaching up and grabbing my right arm, which was sticking up in the air for some reason. That was funny. I couldn’t even remember reaching it up, much less why or for how long.

Before I could think more about it, the hypnotist gave my arm a tug the rest of the way down and said firmly, “Sleep, Mike.”

I collapsed into him briefly, because of the tug, then pulled away, shrugging his arm off my shoulder. I looked around for a second, blinking. All of a sudden, I felt strangely disoriented.

“Everything all right?” asked the hypnotist.

“Hold on a second… Sorry…” I muttered, heading further back onto the stage. God, I was fucking famished, and these lights up here were making everything so hot. Thankfully, I remembered Ant had brought those popsicles, and I knew they were just what I needed to hit the spot.

I rushed over to where Ant was sprawled, arms still up in the air, his furry, sweaty pits haloed by the black fabric of his wifebeater. Jake and Parker were still buried in them, mashing their faces into the thick forest of sweaty fur and sniffing like madmen. God, all three of them looked fucking stupid.

Kyle, thankfully, had shuffled off to the side of the stage and was busy huffing away at Ant’s nasty, stinky boots. Again, he looked like an idiot. And that stupid name the hypnotist had given him was icing on the cake.

Speaking of cake, I was starving. Sitting down, I grabbed one of Ant’s big, beautiful popsicles and immediately plopped it in my mouth. I was vaguely aware of howls and cackling coming from the audience, but I could barely hear them and I didn’t care. I was just so fucking hungry all I could think about was this huge, delicious popsicle, and how it was so good. Your boot was certainly a weird place to keep a popsicle, but whatever. When they were this good, I figured you had to hide them somewhere.

“You might wanna take the wrapper off first,” someone said, and I felt like such an idiot. Of course! How could I forget there would be a wrapper? How else would Ant keep the popsicle in his shoe?

I quickly peeled off the wrapper and tossed it aside, then immediately plopped the popsicle back in my mouth. God, it tasted like heaven! I sat there licking it for a while, contentedly dragging my tongue up and down the sides, around the bottom to catch drips (it kept feeling like it was being yanked away from me, but I held it tight!), and plopping the top in my mouth and sucking on it thoroughly. It had a musty, earthy aroma that was absolutely delicious. Some part of me might have even said you could describe it as pungent, and I also kept catching the faintest whiff of something that smelled like old socks, but really, I was over the fucking moon. This was absolutely delicious, and just what I needed. I was sucking and licking contentedly as the hypnotist squatted next to me.

“How’s that popsicle, Mikey? Taste good?”

“Fuck yeah!” I moaned, going in for another big, wet lick and suck. I could faintly hear laughter and groans. I wondered if something was happening in an adjacent room or something.

“So, it looks like we found our star subject, huh?” the hypnotist asked.

“Yeah,” I mumbled in between licks at the delicious, melting popsicle. “Kyle’s a fucking jackass.”

The room erupted in gales of laughter and applause. I was glad everybody knew the score and was on my side. Kyle had acted like a total jerk. Served him right.

The hypnotist stood up and started walking off. “At the count of three, all my subjects on stage wide awake. One…two… Take one last, big sniff…” I was sure glad I wasn’t one of those morons up here smelling each other like a bunch of animals. I happily took one more big lick in between a couple crags at the top of my popsicle. Goddamn, something in there sure was flavorful!

“…and three… WIDE AWAKE!”

I nearly gagged and threw up. For some reason I was sitting in the middle of the stage, in front of a room full of people, with some nasty alt boy’s dirty, sweaty foot shoved in my mouth. I rolled over and started crawling away, toward the front of the stage, coughing and retching. I seriously felt like I was gonna throw up.

“You will NOT spit, vomit, or be sick…” the hypnotist droned, and I continued crawling away, still coughing disgustedly, but thankfully feeling my nausea subsiding.

“What the FUCK are you guys doing? Sit down, I’m trying to do a show!” the hypnotist exclaimed. I stopped crawling and turned around, watching the melee taking place on stage. People had fallen out of their chairs, were crawling around the floor, coughing and gagging like me, or, at best, sitting low in their seat looking disgustedly at the person next to them.

“Everybody, get back in your seat and form a straight line. What the fuck were you doing?” the hypnotist asked Kyle, who was coughing and sputtering toward the side of the stage, a couple of heavy boots lying around him.

“Get back in your seat, Jesus…”

Kyle scrambled to this first available seat, which was actually mine, next to Hector, who was now awake and looking around confusedly with the rest of us. A barefoot Ant had gotten up and was making his way across the stage to the hypnotist, who raised his microphone when he got there to capture the conversation.

“Where you going, man?”

“All these guys were sniffing me. Someone took my shoes…” he muttered groggily, to huge laughter.

“Sit down, man, we’ll worry about it later,” said the hypnotist, gently spinning him around. Ant staggered awkwardly back toward his seat, but turned around again when he was almost there.

“I don’t wanna sit by these guys,” he muttered, to more laughter.

“Everybody just find a seat, I’ll take care of everything in a second.”

Desperate to get out of center stage, I had gotten up and was moving in a low crouch, still trying to salivate the awful taste out of my mouth, toward the only seat available, between Ryan and Dylan. Oh god. There was no way Ry was going to ever let me live this down…

“Mike, man, what the fuck were you doing? I’ve heard of finger food, but…” the hypnotist said, to still more laughter.

“I…” was all I could sputter as I passed, him thrusting the microphone at me. I was mortified. I just wanted to hide and die in a cave as soon as possible, anything to get out of the center of attention. Why the fuck had I been doing that?

“I’d expect this from some guy on the street, but not one of my volunteers…” the hypnotist muttered.

My right shoulder ached from falling back on it. I reached up to stretch it as I sat down. Ryan gave me a death glare. Dylan, looking around nervously and awkwardly from beneath his thick frames, briefly glanced up the length of my side for some reason I couldn’t ascertain. The madness onstage was finally starting to subside. The hypnotist had moved front and center again. He raised his left hand high in the air.

“All right, everybody just focus your attention right here on this hand. I want you all to take a deep breath in—” I did, filling my lungs with fresh air again. It felt good. “—and let it out in three…two…one…sleep!”

I exhaled, all my worries and troubles suddenly carried away on the force of the air. I felt myself collapsing forward, and everything faded to blackness.