MIKE THE SOMNAMBULIST
Act 1 (Part 4)
by StageShowMM
“—and wide awake.”
I pulled my head up from where it had been resting, blinking my eyes rapidly and taking a deep breath. Where was I? I must’ve zoned out…
Looking to my left, I saw a row of chairs stretching to the side. A bunch of guys, most of them about my age, were looking around groggily, blinking a little. To my right, the same thing, and I recognized my three friends a few seats down, at basically the end of the row.
I remembered now. We were at the hypnosis show.
“All right, guys, we’re gonna get started in just a second…” the hypnotist was saying. He was standing toward the front of the stage, facing the audience. “Could you two maybe get off the floor first? I’m trying to do a show.”
We all looked down and noticed Ant and Jake sprawled on the stage floor, looking around blearily.
“It’s all right. Happens all the time. All these lights up here, people sometimes get nervous and have a little fainting spell or something. Just grab a seat,” the hypnotist said pleasantly.
Ant quickly crawled to his feet and plopped down on my right. Where were his boots? And why was he only wearing a single sock?
Jake rose more shakily and basically crawled up into the seat between Ant and Paul, who…
“Jesus, Paul, get your hand out of your pants! You’re in public for Christ’s sake!”
Paul, looking disoriented, glanced down and jumped as he noticed, around the same time as the rest of us, that his shorts were unbuckled and his left hand was shoved straight down the front of them. He yanked the hand back as if from a flame and reached down to redo his zipper.
“Problem is, you actually have no idea how to get those pants closed,” the hypnotist added, as though it were a matter of simple fact.
Paul looked up, confused, and then back down again. He grabbed at the fly zipper and started tugging it sideways, to no avail. After that he tried the belt, yanking it back and forth, trying to wrap the end around the buckle like he was docking a boat or something.
“Come on, Paul, hurry up. Everyone’s antsy to get the show on the road.”
As though Paul weren’t frustrated enough, he suddenly began to squirm in his seat, his look of discomfort and frustration seeming to get twice as bad in an instant. He started groaning quietly and pawing at his crotch, scratching at his balls and even shoving a hand—the right one this time—down his pants again.
“Paul, is there something wrong with your shorts? I think if you take them off, the itching will stop,” said the hypnotist.
Grunting and moaning, Paul quickly reached up and grabbed his belt, sliding his sorts down his legs with such force he pulled the back of his underwear half down, too. Reaching back and pulling his undies up, Paul slid back in his chair, baggy shorts sliding around his ankles as he panted, his face a mask of relief.
The hypnotist quickly strode across the stage and tapped Paul on the forehead. “Sleep...” Paul’s entire body relaxed, sliding down even further in his chair, his head drooping over the back, hair rustling as he fell.
Jesus. I’d never seen anything like this! I was starting to worry there might be something to this hypnosis shit. I needed to get out of here before I ended up making an idiot out of myself!
Next to Paul, Parker was bouncing up and down giddily, like a child who’d just gotten his biggest wish for Christmas. The hypnotist held out the mic.
“H-Holy shit, man!” Parker laughed, still bouncing. His lips and lower face were covered in strange red gunk. What had happened to him?
“You think he’s under?” asked the hypnotist, completely ignoring Parker’s strange appearance.
“‘He???’” Parker exclaimed, still bouncing. “That’s Beyonce, man!”
“This one too?!” asked the hypnotist. Everyone laughed. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“There’s only one Beyonce,” said Parker matter-of-factly. Everyone cracked up.
“This the one you were cuddling with before?”
“Yeah, man! You made her take her pants off!” Parker tittered gleefully.
“Pretty good?” asked the hypnotist, raising an eyebrow.
Parker just nodded and stared, eyes wide. Everyone laughed again.
“Tell you what, man, ’cause I like you, how about something nice?” asked the hypnotist.
“I don’t think it gets much better than this…” Parker muttered, none-too-subtly sneaking another glance at his friend’s boxers-clad package.
The hypnotist gently laid a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Just the person I’m touching now. When I count three and snap my fingers, you’ll be wide awake. For the remainder of the show, unless I say otherwise, you’ll be completely ignorant of the pair of pants sitting in front of you. You’ll know they’re defective and unnecessary, and you’ll feel totally comfortable wearing what you’re wearing right now, because it’s completely appropriate attire.
“Furthermore, if you should happen to recognize anyone else up here on stage, you’ll find nothing strange about their attire in the slightest. As a matter of fact, you’ll only find them ten times more desirable and attractive. Waking up at the count of three with no memory of being under... One… two… three.”
Snap. Paul sat up and looked around groggily, blinking his eyes.
“How’s it going?” asked the hypnotist.
“Good…” muttered Paul into the microphone thrust at him.
“No more pants problems? Everything okay?”
Paul just nodded, taking a deep breath and seemingly trying to catch his bearings.
“Hey, not to get too personal or anything,” said the hypnotist, “but I know you were telling me before you had a big crush on this guy sitting next to you here…”
“Awwwwww, shiiiiit!” Parker started bouncing up and down again, red-smeared mouth wide open in the happiest grin I’d seen in years. The audience was laughing uncontrollably. He looked absolutely ridiculous!
“Well, I think we’re all friends here, so if you two wanna cuddle up or anything during the show, I don’t see anything wrong with that—”
He barely even got it out before Parker was pulling the pants-less Paul straight into him, throwing an arm over his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. Paul blushed bright red, but was clearly enjoying the attention. “Fuckin’ gross,” I heard Ryan mutter from a few seats down.
“You two good?” asked the hypnotist.
Each gave him a thumbs up and broad grin, Paul nuzzling even closer into Parker and looking over at his face with pure adoration. The audience laughed again.
“Awesome. And I think that’s really nice of Paul to provide us such an awesome view for the rest of the show—”
I suddenly noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye moving across the stage to the hypnotist, stopping and tapping him on the shoulder. Oh god, it was Ryan! I cringed inwardly, dreading what stupid fucking thing he was going to say to embarrass himself.
Instead of saying anything, though, he did something I don’t think anyone expected. In one fluid motion, he cleanly peeled off his t-shirt and held it in an outstretched hand toward the hypnotist. The audience giggled. I couldn’t figure out what the fuck Ryan was doing.
“For me?” asked the hypnotist, like a girl being flattered with flowers.
Ryan nodded eagerly.
“Thanks, man,” said the hypnotist, taking the shirt Ryan offered him. Ryan smiled warmly, turned and headed back to his seat, his tan, muscular frame shining under the lights as he walked. The hypnotist turned back to the audience, held up his trophy, and gave it a little sniff around the collar. Everyone chuckled. “Bet you wish you could do that, huh?” he asked, tossing the shirt off to the side. The audience laughed again.
“I’d say we owe Ryan a hand, too, ’cause our view up here is just getting better and better…”
There were applause and scattered catcalls from the audience. I was surprised that that many people out there wanted to see a shirtless guy. Maybe some of the girls, but it sounded like a lot of the voices were men…
As that was going on, I again noticed Ryan moving across the stage. He hadn’t even sat back down; he’d simply turned on his heels and started rushing back toward the center. The hypnotist seemed ready for it.
“Yes?”
Ryan reached down, lifted a leg, pulled off his sandal and held it out proudly.
“Thanks, man,” said the hypnotist, taking the shoe. Ryan nodded again, then turned and started hobbling back to his seat.
“Well, we can’t have him doing that,” said the hypnotist. The audience laughed. “Not in my view.”
Immediately, Ryan, halfway back to his seat once more, wheeled and returned, this time offering the other sandal.
“Thanks, man, you’re really generous,” said the hypnotist. Ryan gave a friendly nod and started back across the stage. Why the fuck was he doing this? Like I said, I had expected him to make an idiot out of himself, but for different reasons entirely. It was certainly going to make it hard for him to get out of here now that the hypnotist held half his wardrobe hostage. And I knew how protective Ryan was of his designer fashions. It was hard for me to believe he was letting anyone borrow them, much less a virtual stranger.
At the front of the stage, the hypnotist had turned to the audience again. He held one of the sandals up to his nose now, winked, and gave it a little sniff. The few of us on stage who seemed to be paying attention grimaced. Everyone else was simply staring off into space, or whispering something to his neighbor.
“Bet I could get a nice chunk of change if I auctioned these off right now,” the hypnotist muttered. The audience tittered.
“Come on,” said the hypnotist. “I know somebody out there has a foot fetish.” He grinned. There were a couple male cheers from back in the darkness. To my right, Ryan, oblivious, was just getting back to his seat again.
“Seriously, Ryan, thanks. But once the show starts, try not to get up so much, huh?” Ryan nodded.
“It’s not that I really mind, I just don’t want you obstructing anyone’s view.”
Instantly, Ryan was back on his feet, marching forward again. None of this made sense. Not to fault his character too much or anything, but Ryan was hardly the type to give you the shirt off his back, so to speak. I had no idea why he was continually getting up, gradually undressing in front of a room full of strangers, and offering his clothes to the hypnotist one-by-one.
Arriving at the front of the stage again, where by this point the hypnotist was waiting with an outstretched hand, Ryan paused, looking down at what remained. After a second’s hesitation, he unbuckled his belt and yanked it out of his jeans, proudly presenting it. The audience groaned and booed.
“Hey, thanks man,” said the hypnotist cheerily, undaunted by the irate crowd. Ryan nodded and turned back.
“Cheapskate…,” muttered the hypnotist, tossing the belt away and turning back, adding, “Hey Ryan, do you ever watch the daytime talk show The View?”
Ryan, barely a few steps away, wheeled around and promptly marched back. Looking down again, he paused, as if considering, then shrugged, unzipped his fly, pulled his designer jeans straight down to his ankles, stepped out and handed them over with the same cheery smile. The audience burst out in cheers as he stood there in nothing but his suctioned-on white boxer-briefs, completely nonchalant. The hypnotist took his pants.
“Thanks!” he said, tossing the jeans into the growing pile behind him. “Now why don’t you go grab a seat? The show’s about to start and you’re going to block the… line of visibility.” The audience booed again, and the hypnotist smirked. Ryan once more headed back to his chair.
The hypnotist followed, a couple steps behind, and asked as he sat down again, “By the way, Ryan, do you believe in hypnosis?”
Ryan was about to respond when down at the end of the row, Kyle suddenly leapt to his feet and, at the top of his lungs, yelled out, “I’ve got a dildo up my ass and it feels great!”
The audience burst out in laughter and applause, and Kyle looked around, seemingly bewildered as to why he was on his feet and everyone was guffawing. He quickly sat down, still looking as though he was trying to find the source of the commotion.
“I was gonna say no, but…” Ryan said with a smile, and the audience laughed again.
“You think it might be working on him?”
Ryan nodded, grinning his million-dollar grin. It was no wonder he was such a lady-killer, but I just realized this was the first time I’d seen him smile all night. It was kind of sad it was over someone else making an ass of himself.
“But you wouldn’t do anything dumb like that, would you?” asked the hypnotist.
“No way, man, that shit doesn’t work on me.”
“You mean hypnosis?”
“I’ve got a dildo up my ass and it feels great!” Kyle yelled, even louder this time. Again, the second he was done, he seemed to snap out of it, looking around in total confusion and quickly plopping down in his seat as the audience burst out laughing.
“So, I couldn’t make you do anything like that.”
Ryan shook his head.
“Take all your clothes off? Squeal like a pig?”
Ryan shook his head again. “Sorry man, not gonna happen.”
“It’s all right,” said the hypnotist. “Hypnosis—”
“I’VE GOT A DILDO UP MY ASS AND IT FEELS GREAT!!” Kyle lunged back down again, turning beet red as everybody laughed. I got the sense he still didn’t know what was happening, but could probably tell by now that everyone was laughing at him. I couldn’t believe this was working! I had always thought hypnosis was just a bunch of bullshit, but it certainly seemed to be doing a number on Kyle, as well as Parker and Paul, and probably even Ryan, unless he was pulling some gag.
I felt bad about the hypnotist making fun of my friend, and a little guilty about being somewhat responsible, but then I figured how mad Ryan would be when he found out and was glad at least I wasn’t the one making a fool of myself right now. I tried to cross my legs but my jeans tugged tightly, preventing me from moving. I had completely forgotten how tight they were. We might have hit that hotel buffet a little too hard…
“As I was saying, it doesn’t work on everybody. Just sit tight for now. I’m gonna talk to everyone and see who’s under and who isn’t, and then after I’m through we’ll let the people it’s not working for head back to their seats and enjoy the show, okay?”
Ryan smiled and nodded, crossing his powerful bare legs.
The hypnotist started down the row toward the end opposite the poor, embarrassed Kyle. “So, how about it? Who else here doesn’t think it’s working?” He strode past me. I looked around. Pretty much every hand on either side of me was raised: Ant, Paul, Parker, Sam, Jay, Len. To my right, Dylan, Ryan and Josh had their hands up. Arpit was kind of wavering his, unsure, as was Kyle, though I had a feeling a few moments ago it would have been straight up in the air. Hector’s was half up, too, though he had such a flat, spaced out look on his face I wasn’t sure if any of this was getting through to him. It made me worry. I didn’t want to see my friend make a fool out of himself! Jake was the only one without a hand raised at all, and he had Hector’s problem times ten—he was just staring straight forward, blankly, like a zombie. Of course, my hand was straight up like a flagpole, since I knew for a fact I wasn’t hypnotized. I was just worried it might be possible to fall in at some point, and I wanted to make it out of here before that happened. Despite what I’d seen, I still had trouble believing it really worked, and I wondered if perhaps the guys who were doing things were simply playing along to be good sports. It seemed a little improbable that Ryan would take off his clothes in front of a room full of people and hand them to another guy, but he was proud of his body, and not averse to showing off. Stranger things have happened. It was improbable, but not impossible. I still couldn’t imagine this shit working on me.
“Man, I must be off my game tonight,” the hypnotist muttered, striding down the row of seats. “Seriously, no one up here feels hypnotized?”
Down the whole row, everybody was shaking his head (except Jake, who still just sat there looking stoned out of his mind—I still didn’t believe he was 21!). “I think we just wanna get out of here,” Sam muttered apologetically into the microphone, his lips looking strangely smudged with something red. At the far end of the row, the Indian guy had even pulled out his phone and was making a call, which I thought was pretty rude.
“Seriously, Arpit, you can’t wait ’til you get offstage?” the hypnotist asked, passing him.
Arpit was listening intently to his phone. As the hypnotist held up the mic, you could even hear it faintly ringing.
“I’m sorry, I just remembered I have to make an important call,” he said, seeming genuinely apologetic. I couldn’t imagine what would be so pressing as to interrupt a live performance, even if it was something as stupid as a hypnosis act. He could have at least hopped off stage or headed behind the curtain or something.
“Hello?” you could faintly hear over the microphone.
“Hi, Daniel?” Arpit asked semi-urgently.
“Yeah, what’s up?” you could half-hear over the mic.
“Hi. I’m up onstage right now in a hypnosis show, but I don’t know I’m hypnotized,” Arpit said, which for some reason struck me as a weird way of saying it wasn’t working.
“I just wanted to call and tell you that I like to suck dick for quarters.”
“Arp, what—” you could just barely hear, before Arpit hung up and stuck the phone back in his pocket. The audience was howling. Several people onstage were laughing too, to various degrees—particularly Ryan (natch). Len, sitting right next to Arpit, was dying.
“I’m sorry about that,” Arpit said to the hypnotist, very earnestly.
“Oh, no, please, I can see it was important. So, I saw your hand kind of waving a little bit. You think it might be working on you?”
“I’m not sure. I do feel a bit relaxed, but that’s about it. Not really any different.”
“Haven’t done anything out of the ordinary?”
Arpit shook his head no. The audience was dying.
“I’m sorry, man,” said the hypnotist. “I know you really wanted to try, too.”
Arpit shrugged, seeming nonchalant. The hypnotist looked down at his lap.
“Hey, is your phone ringing?”
Arpit pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. The hypnotist held his mic up to it, the vibrations humming through the speakers for those who couldn’t see. Being onstage, however, I could even see the screen lit up by an incoming call.
Arpit stared at it and shook his head.
“Oh, sorry. I’m sure you get the phantom vibes too, huh?”
Arpit smiled and nodded, putting the phone away.
“I just wish there were some way we could find out for sure if you were hypnotized…” muttered the hypnotist.
Instantly, Arpit was back in his pants pocket, digging out his phone again. The hypnotist held his microphone up to Arpit while staring off into space and tapping his foot as we all waited. It played out much the same.
“Hi, Rojit?” Arpit’s accent was thick as a brick this time, but he continued speaking in English. The caller seemed to be freely mixing English and Hindi.
“Yeah, this is Arpit. I’m onstage in a hypnosis show, but I don’t know I’ve been hypnotized. I just wanted to call to tell you, I like to suck dick for quarters. Thank you, good-bye.”
Again, everyone was howling as Arpit hung up the phone. Afterward he looked as oblivious as Kyle, not even seeming to suspect anyone was laughing at him.
“What’s funny?” he looked up and asked, totally sincerely. That absolutely killed.
“Oh, nothing. I think the crowd’s just getting antsy because they came here to see some hypnosis,” the hypnotist said.
“I HAVE GOT A DILDO UP MY ASS, AND IT FEELS GREAT!”
Kyle plunked down again instantly, mortified. Looking back toward the hypnotist from that momentary distraction, I noticed Paul frantically scratching at his boxers again with his right hand, squirming in his seat under Parker’s arm. The hypnotist was making his way down the row…
“So, no one else here? Not hypnotized? Not hypnotized? Not hypnotized?”
At the far end of the row, Arpit was again digging out his phone. I could see the screen lit up once more. Arpit ended the call and opened the window to initiate a new one.
I felt a nudge in my left side.
“This is such fuckin’ bullshit, man,” said Ant, leaning over to whisper to me. “He paid these people off. The second he comes up to me I’m out of here.”
“Yeah, it’s stupid,” I said. “I didn’t even want to be up here.”
“I’m not doing anything retarded like that,” Ant muttered.
“Not hypnotized?” the hypnotist was asking Parker now. Parker, his face still smeared with lipstick or something, shook his head, pulling the squirming Paul closer as he continued scratching frantically at his balls. The hypnotist simply pointed at Paul wriggling next to him.
Parker smiled. “Yeah, she’s gone.”
The hypnotist reached out a hand and snapped directly in Paul’s face. “Clear. All better.”
Paul shook his head and looked up, relieved. He smiled and nuzzled into Parker’s side, and Parker smiled back and pulled him closer. The whole crowd “aw”ed.
“Gayest shit I ever seen,” I heard Ryan, sitting onstage in nothing but his tight boxer briefs, mutter.
“Hypnotized?” asked the hypnotist, holding the mic out to Jake. Jake looked up at him, seeming bewildered. The hypnotist just patted him gently on the shoulder.
“How about you, dude, you don’t feel hypnotized at all?” he asked Ant, right next to me. Arpit, down at the end of the line, finished with his last call and was commencing another. Len was nearly crying with laughter by now. Basically, only the few people around Arpit could hear him at this point.
“This is such bullshit, man,” scoffed Ant. “It’s so fuckin’ fake it’s ridiculous.”
“Nothing? Mike, not hypnotized?”
I shook my head. “Sorry.” I wasn’t. “I think I really just oughta get outta here.”
“Man,” said the hypnotist, turning to the audience and sounding really disappointed. “I’d actually pegged you guys for two of my best volunteers.” Knowing laughter rippled through the auditorium. I wondered what was going on. I would certainly remember if I’d been hypnotized.
I felt Ant’s elbow again. “Dude, put your arm down.”
“What?” I whispered.
He looked up and to the right. I followed his gaze. For some reason, without even thinking about it, I had raised my left arm in the air, like I was trying to ask a question. I quickly snatched it down. There were scattered giggles.
“Well, I guess I’d better just let everyone go. If no one’s hypnotized there’s certainly not going to be much of a spectacle,” sighed the hypnotist.
I guessed Ant took that as his cue to leave, as he immediately popped out of his chair and stood straight up. However, instead of marching across the stage, down the steps and out the building, he turned around, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly, grabbed the waistband of his baggy camo shorts, bent over, and smoothly slid them down, revealing the two rounded, pale globes of his lanky ass.
I was so surprised I immediately scooted away, closer to Dylan, who was looking on in awe, too (really, everybody on stage who wasn’t busy doing something embarrassing was). Obviously, I’d pegged Ant for a rabble-rouser from his clothes (that was kind of the point, right?), but I really hadn’t thought he was this big of an asshole. I mean, I thought this hypnotist guy was a douche too, but I certainly wouldn’t do something this rude.
Ant stared ahead, his face a completely blank mask of concentration, not even relishing the cheers and catcalls emanating from the audience. His loose black tank-top billowed down off his slender frame. His scrawny, tattooed arms, their thick tufts of black pit hair glistening with sweat in the stage lights, firmly gripped his waistband, and his entire body was still as a statue. I’d never seen someone moon so militantly before. It was weird.
After a few long seconds of Ant sticking his bare ass in the air, the hypnotist gently slapped it, and Ant pulled his pants up again, zipped his fly, turned around, and sat back down, blinking and looking around as the room erupted in cheers and applause. He looked around at everyone else up on stage, completely bewildered, and whispered to me, “Dude, what’s going on?”
“Didn’t you—” I tried to start, but the hypnotist interrupted:
“Ant, man, if you don’t wanna be here, you can go, but you don’t have to make a spectacle of yourself.”
Instantly, Ant was back on his feet, moving once more with the purpose of a disciplined soldier. His face again blank, he smoothly turned around, unzipped, bent over, and yanked down his shorts, sticking his scrawny bare ass out pretty much right next to my face.
The hypnotist quickly scooted in beside him and held up his free hand like he was presenting a showcase on Price is Right.
“Can I call it or what? This guy may be scrawny, but is that not one hell of a view?”
Wild cheers erupted, and I was so distracted it took me a few seconds to notice Ryan once again making his way across the stage, hurriedly, toward the hypnotist. Oh no. He wasn’t really going to let him-
Ryan’s underwear slid down swiftly and smoothly, and he was out of them in an instant via a quick back-step. The room erupted in cheers as he picked up his white boxer briefs and presented them proudly to the hypnotist.
“Thanks, man!” the hypnotist said, smoothly slapping Ant’s ass as he turned to grab the underwear and hold them up triumphantly. Ant quickly redid his pants, sat down next to me and again came out of his daze, staring briefly in awe before grimacing and turning away once he realized what he was looking at. At the front of the stage, Ryan nodded, flashed his million-dollar smile, and started back once more to his seat.
“These I really think I should auction off,” the hypnotist said with a grin, tossing Ryan’s underwear into the pile at the side of the stage.
“Now, just ’cause I’m kinda curious what’ll happen,” the hypnotist continued, “seriously, is this a fuckin’ view, or what?”
Again, wild applause. Ryan swiftly turned and marched back up to the hypnotist, his cock and balls bouncing jauntily amid their little forest of trimmed pubes.
Arriving at the hypnotist with a smile, Ryan looked down vainly, seeking something, anything, he could still be considered to be wearing. After a few moments’ desperate search, he looked back up as the hypnotist smoothly held out the mic.
“I’m sorry, man,” Ryan said, sounding more contrite than I’d ever heard him. “I don’t have anything left to give…”
“That’s all right,” said the hypnotist, turning him to face the audience and throwing an arm over his broad, muscular shoulder. “I think you’ve given us more than enough, am I right?”
The response was thunderous. It was weird hearing screams and yells and applause echoing while staring at what was basically a front-row seat for Ryan’s bare, well-defined backside. At least I didn’t have to look at the front, I guessed, but again I was surprised at how popular my friend’s naked body was in what was supposed to be a spring break bar.
“And just to make sure we’re on the same page…” said the hypnotist, snapping the fingers of his free hand loudly next to Ryan’s ear. Ryan’s upper torso slumped into him, his powerful, broad shoulders going slack and his head drooping forward. “Deep sleep, Ryan,” said the hypnotist, quietly but firmly. “Remain standing.
“Now Ryan, I want you to remember: for the rest of the show, you will find nothing odd about the way you are dressed, unless I suggest otherwise. As we discussed before, you believe you are completely and totally clothed, and you feel utterly natural and at ease. Nothing anyone says will be able to convince you differently. Now, completely comfortable, relaxed, and happy to be with us, still believing with all your conviction that you are not hypnotized—” I was dimly aware, toward the other end of the stage, of Arpit once again commencing a phone call. “…At the count of three, wide awake. One… two… three.” Snap. Ryan’s shoulders inflated once more and his head perked up. Drawing a deep breath, he turned and looked over at the hypnotist for some guidance as to what was happening.
“You wanna take your seat, Ryan?” asked the hypnotist smoothly. “We’re about to get started.”
Ryan nodded amiably and marched back to his seat, again completely unaware of his impressive manhood flopping around in front of a room full of people. (Why did that idea seem so strangely familiar?)
“Now,” said the hypnotist, turning back to face everybody. “I bet you think there’s no way I can top that spectacle.”
Seriously? Ant was on his feet again, once more undoing his pants and- yep. Ass straight out in the air, right next to my head. I pulled back again in disgust, crowding into Dylan, though really it just afforded me a view of the top of Ant’s pubes and cock, which were peeking out of his baggy boxers.
Immediately after saying this, the hypnotist strode over and, laying a hand gently on Ant’s back, whispered in that trademark basso, “Sleeeep. Remain standing.”
Ant’s entire upper torso went limp, shoulders relaxing, arms losing their grip on his waistband and dropping loosely in front of him as his baggy shorts and underwear collapsed in a heap around his ankles, giving the audience a perfect view of the furry backside of his balls. The expression on his face softened to one of complete and total relaxation, one I had seen on several other people’s faces tonight. I wondered what it must feel like to be so completely relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Mike, you’re probably getting tired of having this guy’s ass in your face.”
“Uh, it is kind of uncomfortable…” I muttered into the microphone the hypnotist held out as I continued crowding Dylan.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” The hypnotist reached out with his free hand and tapped me on the forehead. “Sleep, Mike.” I just blinked, looking up at him. Did he seriously think this shit was gonna work on me?
Pulling myself up in my seat, I looked to my side and noticed that Ant was thankfully gone. The hypnotist seemed to have replaced him with a woman from the audience—in fact, quite possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! She was like Taylor Swift, but even more gorgeous—just a little bigger in the chest (I don’t like super-huge tits, but even Taylor could use a touch-up or two), fuller lips, just a tinge of auburn to the hair. Absolutely fucking perfect. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed her before.
“Go on, Mike. Lean in and give her a nice, big kiss…”
You didn’t have to ask me twice. I leaned over, closed my eyes, and puckered up. I pressed forcefully, giving her a big smooch, and the touch of her skin was absolutely divine—smooth, soft, round. Perfect.
“Aw, that’s beautiful! One more, just a bit of tongue. She’s really into you!”
I went back, opening my mouth a little and sliding just a bit of tongue forward. I could feel her lapping back, just the tip of her tongue, gently, the most perfect, romantic French kiss I had ever received. I was in heaven.
“…And both of you now, wide awake and wondering what the hell you’re doing.” Snap.
“What the fuck?!”
I opened my eyes again. For some reason, Ant’s bare ass was shoved straight in my face, and even more distressingly, my lips and tongue were pressed up against it, right on the most rounded, central part of the cheek. It was the smallest favor that I wasn’t any closer to the crack, but I could still smell a faint-but-not-faint-enough musk combining the day’s various activities in the hot sun with, presumably, the natural ball-funk from his taint. I pulled back violently, sprawling out of my seat and on the ground next to Dylan, and gagged, coughing and sputtering in disgust.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?! Dude, put your pants back on! Jesus!”
Ant doubled over, violently yanking his pants back up and spinning around to sit down, casting me a dirty look.
“Sleep,” said the hypnotist, brushing the back of his hand against Ant’s forehead. Ant collapsed back, absolutely melting into the seat, sliding forward and splaying his legs as his torso slouched against the back of the chair. Ant’s shorts, simply yanked up in his frantic rush, splayed open lazily at the fly, his boxers poking out in a checked-fabric jumble. Sprawled back in his chair like this, legs splayed, pants half undone and wearing a wifebeater, he looked like an alcoholic at the end of a particularly rough bender. His chest heaved gently and rhythmically with deep breaths, displaying his utter relaxation.
“Mike, do you and I need to have a talk?” asked the hypnotist, turning to me and holding out the mic.
“I- I don’t know what…” I sputtered, unable to even figure out what had happened, much less try to explain it.
“I can’t have you just going around molesting the other volunteers.”
“I… He…” I sputtered, trying to climb to my feet, but stumbling all over the place.
“What is it, Mike?” asked the hypnotist.
“Huh?”
“You’re raising your hand,” he said, looking up.
I followed his gaze. Giggling rippled through the audience. For some reason my right arm was standing straight up in the air. I quickly snatched it down and finished getting up. No wonder it had been so hard.
“Are you volunteering for the show, Mike?”
“I- No—” I started. The audience was laughing again. The hypnotist gently reached up and grabbed my right arm—once again raised above my head—and lowered it to my side. I felt ready to cry. What on earth was going on? It was like my own body was completely out of my control.
“Sit down, Mike,” said the hypnotist condescendingly.
Unsure of what to do, I started back over to the seat. I felt a strange, slight tugging, and noticed my jeans were slowly sliding down.
Flushing red with even further embarrassment, I reached down and yanked them back up, leaving my hand there as I hastily plopped back down in my seat.
“Don’t worry, man, I’ll take care of everything,” said the hypnotist, resting a hand on the top of my head.
“Sleep…”