MIKE THE SOMNAMBULIST
Act 1 (Part 5)
by StageShowMM
“…and wide awake.” Snap.
I blinked my eyes, sitting up in my seat and looking around. What was going on? It took me a moment to remember I was onstage at the hypnosis show.
I felt a strange, slight tugging on my left arm, and realized it was Ant shifting in the seat next to me. I wasn’t quite sure why that would make my arm move, but-
Looking over, I realized to my horror that for some reason my left hand was shoved down the front of Ant’s unzipped shorts, my palm resting on the mound of cock and balls undulating beneath his boxers as he shifted in his seat.
Ant seemed to notice at the same time, and just as I was yanking my hand out of his pants yelled, “What the fuck?!?!” and leapt out of his chair, sending it toppling over with a clatter.
For my part, I scooted my seat back violently and rose, looking back and forth between Ant and my hand, as though it were some strange, foreign object. I had no idea how it could have ended up where it was, but I knew it had to have been Ant’s doing.
“Woah, guys, what’s going on?” asked the hypnotist, nearly drowned out by the laughter coming from the audience.
“This dude’s fuckin’ sick!” yelled Ant, glancing down as he furiously zipped up his fly and buckled his belt. “This fucking pervert grabbed my junk!”
“What the fuck, man? You shoved my hand down your pants!” I yelled, completely mystified about what had happened, but sure as hell it wasn’t something I had done.
“Guys, take it easy,” the hypnotist said gently. “And remember that the moment I snap my fingers, you both start communicating in a strange Martian language.” He clicked his fingers, stepping between us to keep us separated.
“BLEEP BLOOP BLOO BLEEP BLEEP BLOOP!” Ant yelled, gesticulating at me wildly. What a fucking asshole! Why would he think I would want to stick my hand down his pants?
“This is fucking ridiculous, get me the fuck away from this guy,” I said to the hypnotist, who was holding out a microphone at me. The audience burst into hysterics. I had no idea why. This dude had been sexually harassing me right in front of them!
“Mike, I told you, man, if you can’t keep your hands off Ant, I’m gonna have to separate you two,” said the hypnotist, as though I were a child.
“BLEEP BLOOP BLERP BLEEP BLEEP,” Ant said angrily, storming toward the opposite end of the stage.
“That’s fine by me, asshole, just stay the fuck away from me,” I said, which again caused the audience to howl. What the fuck was with these people?
“Tell you what—Len, why don’t you trade seats with Ant and come down here?” said the hypnotist. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, don’t worry.”
Looking around awkwardly, Len rose and took a few steps toward the hypnotist and me, casting a funny glance at Ant as he passed. “BLEEP BLOOP BLOOP BLEEP BLURP?” Ant spat at him, still pissed. The audience tittered.
“It’s all right, guys, don’t worry,” said the hypnotist. “Just take a seat. You’ll find you forget all about it when you sit down.”
Casting me one more death glare, Ant plopped down next to Arpit. Instantly, the rage seemed to melt from his face, his gaze becoming strangely unfocused as he turned his head to stare forward into space.
“Come on, sit down, Mike,” said the hypnotist. “Can you do me a favor though and grab the chair he knocked over?”
Looking down at it with disgust, I stooped over, bending rigidly because of my weirdly tight jeans, grabbed Ant’s old seat, and turned it upright again. “I don’t see why I have to pick up his fucking shit. This asshole shoves his hand down my pants and I have to clean up—”
“When I snap my fingers, you’ll realize how you’ve been speaking for the last minute,” said the hypnotist, directing his mic back to himself so he spoke over my tirade.
What was he talking about? Realize how I’d been speaking? If he expected me to apologize to Ant or something, he could forget it. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I knew it wasn’t anything I had done, or anything I planned on apologizing for-
Snap.
“—WHEEP BLOOP BEEP—”
The second the sound of my words hit my ears, I clamped my hand to my mouth, realizing I’d been standing here spouting gibberish for the last sixty seconds. My face flushed red and I quickly dropped down in my seat, as though getting closer to the ground might help me avoid the embarrassment. Strangely, however, the second my butt hit the chair, I felt a weird sense of calm rush over me, and my humiliation faded quickly into nothingness.
“Everything all right, Mike?” asked the hypnotist, holding out the microphone again. I nodded.
“Anything you want to say?”
“Can- can me and my friends get out of here?” I asked calmly, looking up at him. I figured if there was any way I was gonna reason with this guy, keeping my cool was probably it.
“What’s the matter, Mike? You don’t think you’re hypnotized?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Arpit begin fucking with his phone again. He was really starting to piss me off, but I bit my tongue for now and tried to ignore it.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I said, finding myself drawling a little lazily, strangely blissed out…
“Just let me finish with the rest of these guys and I’ll let you get out of here,” said the hypnotist, before adding, “Grab a seat, Len. I’ll check back with you in a second.”
The hypnotist stepped down the row of chairs as Len cautiously slipped into the seat next to me. He kept casting these weird glances at the hypnotist, as though afraid he had some trick up his sleeve.
“Now, we haven’t checked in with Dylan yet,” said the hypnotist, holding out his microphone toward the shabbily-dressed hipster on my right. “You think any of this is working on you?”
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think so. I feel fine,” he said, sounding a little dreamy. If you asked me, he seemed like he might actually be going under…
“Man, I still can’t believe no one up here is hypnotized. This usually works so well.” Down at the other end of the stage, I could faintly hear some strange voices, and I looked over to see Ant tugging on Arpit’s arm, whispering to him in some weird kind of gibberish. Arpit, meanwhile, was pulling away, pressing his cell phone to his ear and trying to make another call.
“Now, Ryan I know said this wasn’t working…” the hypnotist stated, walking down the remainder of the row of chairs. Ryan, apparently still unaware he was sitting there buck naked, smiled cockily and shook his head no.
“…and Kyle I think we decided the jury was still out on,” continued the hypnotist, stopping toward the end of the line.
“Huh?” asked Kyle, looking up at him blearily.
“Is it working?” the hypnotist simplified.
“Is what working?” asked Kyle.
“The hypnosis.”
“I’VE GOT A DILDO UP MY ASS, AND IT FEELS GREAT!” yelled Kyle, leaping to his feet again. Once more, the second he finished, he came to his senses, blinking and looking around, bewildered. I had forgotten how weird some of the other guys up here had been acting. I still wasn’t sure they weren’t just goofing on the hypnotist, but it reminded me why I wanted to get out of here so badly.
“Sit down, Kyle,” said the hypnotist, eliciting another round of laughter from the audience. Kyle quickly dropped back into his chair, looking around in confusion and blushing with embarrassment.
“So that leaves these two,” said the hypnotist, stepping behind the row of chairs and moving between Hector and Josh. “Haven’t heard too much from you guys so far, except a few barks and clucks.” The audience chuckled. I wasn’t sure what he was supposed to mean by that.
“How about it, guys? Either of you think you went under?”
Josh and Hector both had these really spaced-out looks on their faces—thousand-mile stares—but both shook their heads no.
“Are you guys sure? You both look kind of out of it.”
Again, they shook their heads.
“Don’t think so…” muttered Josh. “Just relaxed…”
“Had a couple beers…” murmured Hector, his eyelids drooping like he’d had more than that.
“Well, I don’t think I’ve seen either of you guys get up and do anything too crazy, so you might be right,” said the hypnotist, starting to walk slowly back down the row of seats again.
“I guess if none of you guys are hypnotized, then Mike, I should probably just let you and your friends get out of here, huh?” My heart skipped a beat. Finally! I couldn’t believe I’d managed to get us into this nonsense! While a weird thing or two might have happened, I thankfully couldn’t remember anything too embarrassing. I’d learned a valuable lesson though—I didn’t think I’d be fucking around with hypnosis again.
“Before I do that, though, I do want to talk with Len for a little bit,” said the hypnotist, skillfully stopping right behind his subject of conversation as he brought him up.
“Len, I haven’t really seen anything much out of you yet, either. You seem like you’re pretty alert. Haven’t gotten up and run around or done anything crazy. Do you feel hypnotized?”
The hypnotist held out his microphone, though before Len could respond, a loud string of “BLEEP BLOOP BLORP!” erupted from down at the other end of the stage. Everyone turned to see a more forceful version of the argument I had noticed before, with Ant yanking at Arpit’s arm as Arpit desperately tried to make another phone call.
“Hey Ant,” said the hypnotist, causing him to look up briefly, though he retained a tight grip on Arpit’s arm. “When I snap my fingers, you’re going to realize Arpit is making the world’s most important phone call,” he finished, snapping into the mic directly afterward. Ant’s demeanor changed instantly: dropping Arpit’s arm as if it were a thousand degrees, Ant rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, staring at Arpit intently as Arpit began happily dialing his phone.
“And Arpit, the moment you hang up on that next caller, you’re going to fall back asleep. You’ve made enough phone calls today,” added the hypnotist. Arpit, seemingly indifferent, pressed the phone up to his ear and began waiting while Ant watched intently.
“Sorry, where were we?” said the hypnotist, turning back to Len. “Oh yes. I was saying, you seem like you’re completely aware and know everything that’s going on. Do you think you’re hypnotized?”
Again, before Len could respond, at the end of the row, Arpit suddenly toppled out of his seat, keeling over and onto the floor of the stage. There were gasps and laughs from the audience.
“BLEEP BLEEP BLOOP BLORP!” Ant yelled, hopping out of his seat and kneeling next to his neighbor, frantically shaking his shoulder. Ant looked up at the hypnotist, his face wild with concern.
“I don’t know what’s going on, man, it looks like he fainted. Why don’t you try giving him mouth-to-mouth?” The audience laughed as Ant looked down frantically at the prone body before him.
“The thing is,” continued the hypnotist, “because you’re an alien, you’re confused about which end is his mouth, and you’re gonna get that backward.” The hypnotist clicked his fingers.
Blinking for a moment, Ant came to his senses and basically dove face-first into Arpit’s ass, spreading his blue jeans-clad butt cheeks and pressing his lips in-between, blowing forcefully in between while pushing both palms into Arpit’s cheeks to simulate compressions. The audience was in hysterics as Ant went about this routine, becoming more and more frantic as time progressed. Meanwhile, Arpit just lay there, sprawled out on the stage, a blissful smile spread across his lips as his body rocked with Ant’s manipulations.
“Sorry,” said the hypnotist, turning to Len again after some of the laughter had finally subsided. “The point I was trying to make is, I think you’ll probably agree, it seems like a number of the people up here are definitely HYPNOTIZED.” Everyone looked at Arpit, who remained sprawled across the stage, prone body jiggling as Ant continued pummeling his ass.
“So, my question is, you seem like a pretty smart guy, and it seems like most of this probably isn’t working on you, am I right?”
Len shrugged and nodded. “I guess not.”
“So, you’re pretty sure you’re not hypnotized?”
“I don’t think so…” said Len, cracking a nervous smile.
“How about this guy on your left? You think he’s hypnotized?”
Len looked over at Jake, who was just sitting there, looking off into the distance with a glassy stare.
“Seems more probable,” said Len.
“The thing about hypnosis—”
“I’VE GOT A DILDO UP MY ASS, AND IT FEELS GREAT!”
Everyone turned their heads just in time to see Kyle plunk down in his seat, once again blushing and averting his gaze.
“Sorry,” continued the hypnotist. “The thing about it is, some people kind of go deeper than others. However, it’s often hard to tell just by their behavior exactly how deep anyone’s really gone. So, I’ll tell you what...” The hypnotist reached into his vest and pulled out a note card. “In a couple of moments, I want you to say the word that’s on this card. This card contains a specific word—a trigger—that’s going to cause someone onstage to perform an action when they hear it. We call this a ‘post-hypnotic suggestion.’ It’s a response that can be programmed into anyone, without their conscious mind being aware.
“Before you do that, though,” the hypnotist continued, “I want to make a little bet. Take a look at everyone up here, and if you can tell me the person who’s going to respond to the word printed on this card, I’ll let you head straight out of here and give you a couple drinks on the house. Deal?”
Len shrugged. “Sure.”
Len peered down the row of seats at Josh and Hector, who at least still seemed to have enough wherewithal to know they were being talked about and turned to stare back. He then turned in the other direction and looked at Jake, sitting next to him and still staring blankly into space. Len reached out and waved a hand in front of Jake’s field of vision, surprisingly close to his face. Jake’s eyelids blinked lazily, and he seemed to take some notice, but he barely turned toward Len before looking away again.
Len turned back up to face the hypnotist. “He seems really out of it. I think he’s under.”
“You’re right, he’s an incredibly responsive subject,” said the hypnotist. “You wanna know what he’s going to do?”
Len nodded.
The hypnotist grinned conspiratorially and licked his lips. “In just a few seconds, he’s gonna think that he’s a baby—like sit here sucking his thumb and everything!”
Len chuckled.
“Sounds pretty great, right?”
Len nodded, smiling. “So, does that mean I get the drink?” The audience chuckled.
“Read the card,” said the hypnotist playfully.
Turning over the note card and taking a look, Len leaned toward the microphone in the hypnotist’s outstretched hand and enunciated: “Special delivery.”
All of a sudden, Len’s smile evaporated and he looked down, his face suddenly becoming flooded with concern. Leaning back in his seat, Len slid his pelvis forward slightly and placed his left hand onto the lower part of his stomach, his breathing turning to slow, shaky panting.
“What’s going on? Is everything all right?” asked the hypnotist with what seemed like genuine concern. I had no idea what was happening—was the guy about to have diarrhea or something?
“Oh god. I think… I think my water just broke,” said Len, looking dead serious and a little frantic. I had no idea what was going on. Was he nuts or something?
“This routine’s pretty old, but I still like to have fun with it,” said the hypnotist as a quick aside before turning back to Len. “Holy shit, man. I didn’t realize you were pregnant!”
“Oh god, it’s coming!” Len yelled suddenly, leaning back further in his seat and groaning like he was having a contraction. I was starting to get really freaked out, and began scooting away from him and back into Dylan again (something I seemed to be doing a lot of).
“Mike, quick, take his hand!” exclaimed the hypnotist, and without really thinking about it, I reached out and grabbed the hand of the guy next to me as he let out an agonized groan.
“Jake, get down there and catch the baby!” exclaimed the hypnotist, giving Jake a little push on his right shoulder.
Jake, seemingly completely spaced out, actually took the order really well, quickly dropping to his knees between Len’s spread legs and, becoming increasingly animated, holding two hands up in a supportive position directly below Len’s taint.
“The thing about subjects like Jake, who get so spaced-out,” said the hypnotist to the audience, “is they possess intense levels of concentration. When there’s nothing they’re supposed to be doing, they’re kind of off in la-la land, but when you give them something to focus on, they become invested very quickly.”
“Puuuuush!” Jake yelled, as if on cue, and Len suddenly gripped down on my left hand, nearly crushing me in his grip as he let out another loud groan.
“All right, all right, good job, Len, very good,” said the hypnotist, returning again to the subject at hand. “Just take deep breaths and focus on gaining back your strength between those contractions.”
Len took a couple of deep, panting breaths, still leaning back further in his chair, tilting it on its hind legs where it was supported by the hypnotist carefully laying a hand against the back.
Len’s grip on my hand loosened a bit, and he drew in a number of shuddering breaths, before clamping down again and groaning.
“I see it! I see the head!” cried Jake from between Len’s legs, and the audience burst into applause and laughter.
“All right, just two more pushes…” said the hypnotist, and Len pushed back in his chair again, loosening his grip.
“Mike, fan him across the face a bit!” said the hypnotist, and again, despite the absurdity of the situation, I found myself reaching out with my free hand and waving it back and forth in front of Len’s face, trying to create a breeze. It was strange, since I knew for a fact that what was going on was crazy, that a man couldn’t give birth and that this rail-thin Asian guy in a well-fitting dress shirt definitely wasn’t pregnant, but the sheer frantic nature of everyone involved, and especially the look of distress on Len’s face, kept leading me to assist without really objecting. It wasn’t like I thought what was happening was real, only that it seemed like it would be really awkward to interject and break the illusion, so I just kept going with the flow. Besides, Len’s forehead was starting to become covered in sweat, and it seemed like he probably could use a bit of breeze.
“Puuush!” Jake cried again, and once more Len clamped down on my palm, groaning and thrusting his pelvis up in the air.
“It’s almost out, just one more!” exclaimed Jake, holding his hands up expectantly.
“Okay, Len, this is the big one. On the count of three…” said the hypnotist. Len scrunched up his sweat-covered brow, his jaw quivering. I felt terrible for him. It certainly didn’t seem like he was having fun.
“One…” started the hypnotist. “Two…”
Len gripped down on my hand like a vise. Vainly I waved my other hand near his face, trying to do whatever I could to help cool him off.
“Three!”
“UUUUUGH!” Len cried, tilting his chair still further back—so far, in fact, that the hypnotist actually had to stoop down to keep him from falling over backward—and thrusting his pelvis forward and up.
“There it is! There it is!” cried the hypnotist, though with his microphone now in the hand supporting Len’s chair only I and a few others could hear him over the laughter of the audience.
Jake fell back on his heels, arms pressed against his chest as he cradled the invisible baby, and the hypnotist gently lifted Len’s chair back up, doing his best to set it down softly on all four legs.
Len’s fist still gripped mine tightly as he sunk down in his seat, the stress in his face melting into relief as he lay back, quaffing deep breaths of air.
“Great job, Jake, great job,” said the hypnotist as Jake cradled the imaginary baby in his arms. “Why don’t you go over and hand that baby to Len? Just try not to be too childish about it.”
Jake blinked, his expression suddenly becoming glassy again. Rising to his feet, he walked over to Len and sat carefully in his lap. Laying his head down to rest on Len’s shoulder, Jake pulled his legs up toward his body and plopped a thumb in his mouth, contentedly sucking on it. During all of this, the audience was going absolutely wild, cheering and applauding and laughing hysterically, so loud that you almost couldn’t hear the hypnotist over the noise.
“That was amazing, man! I’ve never seen a guy give birth before! How do you feel?”
Reaching forward weakly and pulling Jake’s prone legs into his lap so he was cradling the boy’s entire body, Len choked into the hypnotist’s outstretched microphone, “Incredible.” He started sobbing softly, pressing Jake into his chest. Nevertheless, Jake’s head bobbed over slightly into my space, and I responded by sliding over a bit more toward Dylan.
“I love him so much…” Len sobbed, an actual tear squeezing out from the corner of his eye and trickling down his cheek. I had no idea how to feel at the moment. The whole scenario was ridiculous—a grown man believing he’d just had a baby—but Len was taking the whole thing so seriously it has hard not to almost get choked up by it, which in turn made you feel ridiculous about yourself.
“Well, congratulations, Len, he’s beautiful. Isn’t little Jake beautiful, everybody?” asked the hypnotist. The audience responded with voluminous cheers, and, weirdly, what sounded like a few catcalls from a couple gruff voices in the back.
Len choked back another couple sobs and whispered softly, “Thank you.”
The hypnotist gently placed a hand on Len’s shoulder. “After all that, though, I’m sure your baby’s hungry. I think you should give him something to eat, don’t you?”
Len sniffed and nodded as the audience burst once more into cheers and a few obscene calls. Reaching up with his free hand while using the other to continue cradling Jake’s head, Len tossed his tie over his shoulder and began tugging open the buttons in the middle of his dress shirt. As it turned out, he wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and after three or four buttons had been undone, he had quickly exposed a large section of tan, smooth flesh.
Sliding his left arm under Jake’s shoulder to support his head from the opposite side, Len reached up and, with his other hand, pulled open the middle of his shirt, revealing more of his torso along with one of his small, Hershey’s Kiss nipples. As a few of the more cognizant onstage groaned and turned away, Len gently lifted Jake’s head to his flat, tan breast and guided his lips to his nipple. Jake, completely lost in this part, accepted it greedily, plopping his thumb out of his mouth and wrapping his lips around the nipple and sucking just like a newborn baby.
“Awww,” cooed the hypnotist, and the audience cheered wildly. “What a good daddy.”
Stepping forward and gently laying a hand on Len’s shoulder, the hypnotist continued: “In fact, you’re such a good dad, Len, that you’re going to remain just like that until I tell you otherwise, feeding and caring for that sweet little boy.
“And Baby Jake,” the hypnotist went on, moving his hand to rest delicately on the top of Jake’s head, “you’re a very hungry little baby, and you’re going to find yourself wanting to drink as much milk as possible, because you’re always so very thirsty.” Jake simply responded my clamping his lips down even more tightly on Len’s nipple, as Len gently rubbed the back of Jake’s head with his hand.
“So,” said the hypnotist, turning to address the audience and starting back down the row of chairs toward the opposite end of the stage, “What did we learn? It’s that physical demeanor is by no means a predictor of hypnotic susceptibility. A guy like Len, who’s one of our most lucid subjects, can be just as deep and responsive as anyone else,” he said, adding, “Also, when a hypnotist offers you a bet, it’s generally not a good idea to take it.”
The audience chuckled. Meanwhile, I silently gave thanks that I still hadn’t been hypnotized. I resolved once again to start heading out of here, yet for some reason still didn’t think to stand.
“Now…” said the hypnotist, who, having finally reached the other end of the stage again, stooped to lay a hand on the shoulder of Ant, who was still snorkeling in Arpit’s ass.
“BLEEP BLOOP BLEEP!” yelled Ant frantically, turning to look back up at him. He was seriously acting like he thought Arpit had died—except I couldn’t figure out why he was molesting him and talking like a crazy person!
“Ant,” the hypnotist said calmly, “in just a moment when I snap my fingers, you’re going to realize exactly what you’re doing.”
“BLEEP BLEEP BLOOP! BLEEP BLEEP BLOOP!” responded Ant, before the hypnotist, holding up his hand, snapped directly in his face.
Ant blinked, looking around for a second in disorientation before he glanced down, realized where his hands were, and leapt to his feet. “Woah, what the fuck?!” he yelled. The audience laughed uproariously.
“Ant, man, what the hell were you doing?” asked the hypnotist, sliding over and holding out the mic.
“I… I don’t…” Ant sputtered, backing away.
“Even if you like Arpit, man, you should probably buy him dinner before tossing his salad.”
Ant gagged a little bit, wiping his mouth on his hand.
“Seriously, dude, you keep that up and people are gonna start thinking you’re Mike.”
The audience laughed again. What was he talking about? What did I have to do with this?
“Go take a seat,” said the hypnotist. “What did I tell you before about making a spectacle?”
Ant’s face, still grimaced in disgust and confusion, suddenly melted into that far-off look again as knowing laughter rippled through the audience. Almost zombielike, Ant turned to face the back of the stage, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, bent over, and stuck his ass out under the hot stage lights for everyone to see. Applause and cheers again filled the room.
This time, though, something strange happened. The second I saw him pull those pants down, thoughts of this girl I had seen before, like Taylor Swift, only sexier, filled my mind, and I was overcome by the strangest and most compelling desire to kiss someone I had ever felt in my life. And for some strange reason, I knew that Ant’s ass was exactly what I was looking for. Almost before I realized it, I found myself walking, feeling totally disassociated from my actions, across the stage and right over to Ant’s butt, at which point I promptly leaned down, puckered up my lips, and planted a huge kiss right on his smooth, bare ass cheek.
It’s almost impossible to describe exactly what I was feeling when I did this. It wasn’t like I thought Ant’s ass cheek was that fantasy girl. I didn’t see her face instead of his ass cheek, or anything like that. It was more like, for some reason, the two ideas were just inextricably linked in my mind, like how after a lifetime of going to the movies and buying a bag of popcorn, watching a movie without one just doesn’t feel right. I didn’t believe anything crazy about Ant’s ass, like it had transformed or anything. It was just, seeing Ant’s butt for some reason made me think of that girl, and for some reason, that memory just made me feel like I had to kiss something. And for still some other reason, it just made sense to kiss the thing that reminded me of the girl—Ant’s ass. Somewhere in my mind, I was still well aware of what I was doing, but it was as if my mind were also in some kind of strange fog, like when you’re hyped up at a sporting event or have been taking care of a thousand to-do items all day long and just do the next thing on the list without really thinking about what it is. For some reason, I knew that I had to kiss Ant’s ass, and the part of my brain that usually would have been like, “That’s disgusting, that’s another guy’s butt,” all of a sudden just didn’t seem to care. I was in this weird daze the whole time, as I walked over there, as I did it, and as I walked back. I was vaguely aware that the audience was cheering and laughing and applauding wildly, but that was also a thousand miles away. The whole process was broken down into a distinct set of tiny, bite-size, readily achievable steps: first I had to walk up to Ant’s butt, then I had to kiss it, and then I had to sit back down again. Somewhere inside me, I knew that doing all this was going to catch people’s attention, that I was kind of performing a big stunt for them, but at the same time, that was purely incidental. What was most important was just that I do the task at hand: when I saw Ant’s ass, I wanted to kiss something; and when I wanted to kiss something, I kissed Ant’s ass. And there it was sticking out, so I did it.
As I sat back down, I seemed to come out of my fog. The audience’s laughter became clearer, and I looked around, blinking, bewildered and wondering what had been going on while I’d lost focus. Some part of me felt like it might have been related to something I had done, but all I could remember from the last few seconds was walking over to my seat and sitting down. Kind of like when you drive yourself home and arrive at your door not quite remembering how you got there. I knew I must have gotten up to do something, but I really had no idea what it could have been.
Across the stage, Ant was tugging up his camo shorts and buckling his belt. He turned around and plopped back down in what had once been Arpit’s chair, shaking his head and looking around as though coming out of a fog. The hypnotist continued down the row behind us, leaving Arpit sprawled out on the stage floor, still asleep.
“Now, I think when we last left off, we were still trying to figure out whether Mike and his friends were hypnotized,” said the hypnotist. “In fact, there are several of you up here who don’t seem to have responded much. There’s no need to worry—that’s totally fine. It doesn’t work on everybody, and I give you guys a lot of credit just for giving it a shot.” There were some scattered applause throughout the audience, and a few “woo”s.
“We’re gonna be breaking in just a few minutes for intermission—” this comment elicited a chorus of “aww”s from the darkened room beyond the stage—“and at that time everyone who this didn’t work on can head out of here and enjoy your evening.” My heart jumped in my chest. Thank god, we were almost out! It seemed a little weird having an intermission for a show only five or ten minutes in, but I figured maybe it was an excuse to compensate for how poorly the hypnotist’s routine seemed to be working. After all, while it seemed like a few guys might be feeling it, I was reasonably sure most of the people on stage weren’t hypnotized. Thankfully, we could all head out of here in a few minutes, and we probably wouldn’t lose too much of our night. I was pretty sure I’d still be the subject of plenty of ball-busting for getting us involved in this mess, but thankfully we at least had the chance to beat a hasty retreat, something I figured would end up working in my favor.
That was, of course, if this guy onstage would shut his fucking yap already and just let us go. I was starting to suspect he was stalling for time, droning on and on about all the things there were to do on spring break: “…whenever I’m down here I always like to check out the hardbodies by the ocean, get in a little volleyball and some tanning. Usually, I’ll head out to the beach and relax with a book for a while, or, when things start dying down, maybe head out into the sea for a nice, relaxing swim…”
All of a sudden, laughter and gasps began rippling through the audience, and I looked down the row of chairs to try to see what was going on. Near the other end, Jay and Sam, the little hipster twins who had been sitting stoically for quite some time, were both pointing at the stage, their faces breaking out into excited grins. Quickly, Jay stood up, grabbing Sam by his scrawny, bare arm and tugging him to his feet, insisting, “Come on, dude!”
Sam looked around kind of nervously as Jay, I guess the more extroverted of the pair, immediately peeled off his day-glo sleeveless tee and tossed it toward a pile of clothes near the side of the stage. The audience broke out in applause and whistles as Sam, looking back and forth one more time, slipped off his t-shirt too.
Sam carefully removed his sunglasses, folded them up, and set them on his seat as Jay, his shorts already halfway unbuttoned, handed him his as well. Sam set these on his chair as Jay kicked off his sandals, shucked his shorts off the rest of the way, and tossed them into the growing pile of clothes. Standing back up, Jay revealed a lithe, scrawny body clad in nothing more than a pair of skimpy designer briefs. He tossed his hair back with a flick and placed his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like he thought he and his friend were completely alone.
“…It’s so relaxing…” the hypnotist droned on, “…just slipping off my t-shirt and shorts right down to my Speedo and heading into the water on a hot afternoon…”
“Come on, man,” Jay said to Sam, acting totally oblivious to the guy rambling on just a few feet from him—not to mention the row of seats containing a dozen other guys who were all staring at him in confusion.
Sam, smiling sheepishly, slipped off his boat shoes, carefully sliding them under his seat, and then reached up and unbuttoned the fly of his shorts, sliding them down his slender legs and tossing them under his seat along with his other clothes.
Sam’s body was like his friend’s, with the same slender, almost emaciated build. He was dressed in similarly tight, revealing underwear—navy-and-white striped and which actually did, again like his friend’s, kind of resemble a Speedo. Jay, already on his knees in the middle of the stage, waved for Sam to come join him. “Come on in, it feels great!” he exclaimed, and the audience, oddly transfixed by the strange show the two were putting on, finally burst into laughter.
Jay lay down on his stomach on the stage and started raising each arm up in the air, awkwardly pantomiming a stroke and seemingly ignoring the fact that his hands kept stopping at the floor below him. Sam finally lay down and started “paddling” out as well, the two nearly nude guys writhing around onstage next to each other as they simulated swimming.
Finally, Jay rose up so he was sitting on his folded legs and started waving his arms around him, apparently trying to create the effect of treading water, though looking more like some idiot attempting to turn himself into a helicopter.
After a few moments, Sam rose up too, resting on his knees, and began waving his arms around himself as well to create a similar illusion.
“Jesus, this is great!” said Jay, and the audience burst out laughing again, a guy in the back yelling, “I’ll say!”
“Thanks for convincing me to come on this trip,” said Sam. “I’m finally starting to feel better about Vyronika.”
A collective “aww” rippled through about half of the audience, and the hypnotist whispered, “Shit, ironic waters run deep…,” which elicited another laugh.
“Come on, dude, forget about her and start having some fun!” exclaimed Jay, suddenly thrusting his palms out at his friend.
Sam dove to the side, acting for all the world like he was being splashed, and quickly crawled across the stage, leaping on top of Jay and forcing his head down to the floor.
Jay, laughing and sputtering as though he’d just been dunked underwater, shoved himself back up and pushed Sam off him. As Sam tumbled onto his back, Jay pushed his head up and waved his arms, re-stabilizing himself. He sputtered a bit and laughed, mock-choking, “Shit!” Meanwhile, Sam, who had pushed his head back into the air again and was waving his arms around too, began pushing them to the sides, simulating a sort of dog paddle as he crawled back across the stage toward Jay.
“Seriously, man, I mean it,” said Sam, “treading water” right next to his friend. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jay smiled. Without any microphones around them, only those of us onstage could really hear what they were saying, and I don’t think most of the audience caught the increasingly weird vibe.
“I mean it, dude. You’re a really great friend,” said Sam, reaching out to slide his arm around Jay’s bare back.
“Woah!” Jay scooted back, jumping in shock.
“Hoooly shit!” exclaimed the hypnotist, as pretty much the entire audience gasped in surprise.
“Dude, sorry! I didn’t—” began Sam.
“What the fuck, man?!”
“Sleep! Deep sleep, Jay, Sam! Deep, deep sleep…” said the hypnotist. Both boys’ eyeballs rolled back into their heads, their bodies melting to the stage and falling limply into a jumbled heap of flesh.
The hypnotist slipped from behind the row of chairs across the stage and toward the front, saying into the microphone, “I swear to fucking god, I did not tell them to do that!” Some more startled—seemingly delighted—giggles rippled through the audience as the hypnotist stooped down and touched both Jay and Sam, quickly and repeatedly in succession.
“Gross…” I heard Ryan mutter under his breath, and I looked over at him, kind of annoyed. He of course didn’t notice, being far too busy with his revulsion.
“Boys I’m touching now, I want you both to open your eyes and stand up, remaining deeply hypnotized…” the hypnotist said in a calm, soothing voice. Jay and Sam each slowly rose to their feet, their eyes open but glassy, faces vacant and mouths slightly agape, as though they were staring a thousand miles into the distance.
“Both of you head back to your seats now, still deeply in trance. Sam, you can just sweep those clothes off your chair when you get to it. They’re not important.”
The two shuffled dreamily back across the stage, slowly turning around when they reached their chairs—Sam indeed gently pushing all his clothes off the side of his and into a pile on the floor and calmly sitting back down.
“Like I said before,” said the hypnotist, moving over toward the two spaced-out ravesters, “a lot of this really isn’t planned, which is part of what makes it so fun. I can definitely say now that I’m gonna have some nice surprises in store for Sam during the second act.” There was an appreciative applause, accompanied by a knowing chuckle throughout the room.
“Now, Jay and Sam,” the hypnotist continued, turning back toward the two zonked guys before him. “In a moment, you’re both going to go back to sleep, and when you do, any memory of the last several minutes is going to immediately fade away. There was no swimming, there was no beach. Any memory you have you will realize was merely a daydream, a figment of your imagination, and as you sleep, you will only focus on relaxing more and more peacefully, going ever deeper…”
Jay and Sam continued staring forward impassively, still as living statues.
“Nod your heads if you understand,” said the hypnotist.
Both Jay and Sam nodded—a single, slight bob—their glassy eyes continuing to stare forward.
“Very good,” said the hypnotist. “Take a deep breath in...” They did. “—...and melt now.”
The hypnotist snapped his fingers, and both Jay and Sam did as instructed, seeming to exhale the very life out of themselves with a single sigh. Each of them doubled over, twins to the end, heads falling forward to rest between their knees, their slender bare arms hanging limply by their legs. Each looked totally relaxed—quite a feat, considering they were sitting in front of a room full of people in nothing but their briefs.
“Well,” said the hypnotist, turning to the audience. “There’s probably no way I can top that, so I guess it’s about time for a little break. I know there’s a few of you up here on stage who still don’t feel like you got hypnotized, so to all of you, I’m sorry. I hope you all go out and have a blast this evening—hit up the beach, check out the girls, grab a few beers. There’s a ton of clubs around, so if you want, you can even go out and dance…”
All of a sudden, Hector and Josh, who had both been completely still for the entire show so far, rose to their feet. At first, I wondered if maybe they took this as our long-overdue invitation to leave, but instead, to my amazement, Josh began stretching his arms out on either side of him, and Hector started curving his above his head, touching the fingers at the tips in a clichéd ballet pose. In time with a piece of music that must have started to play so subtly I hadn’t even noticed, Josh and Hector began bobbing and squatting, bending at the knees (Hector) and tip-toeing across the stage (Josh) in a bizarre parody of a ballet.
Hector, his eyes glassy with focus, began taking long, striding leaps, and Josh, having broken from his tip-toe, adopted Hector’s previous stance, hands above his head in a shoddy pirouette, spinning around clumsily as he pranced about the stage.
“Aw, no way, dude, are you fuckin’ serious?” exclaimed Ryan, his face breaking out into an incredulous grin. This expression didn’t last long, however, as the moment the hypnotist walked over and clapped a hand firmly on his shoulder, Ryan’s gaze suddenly took on the faraway look shared by both Josh and Hector. His demeanor all at once intensely focused, Ryan too rose from his seat, spread his arms wide apart and high up in front of him (always the center of attention), and then clumsily pranced off to one side, his dick and balls flopping obscenely with every leap and twirl.
“How about that, Mike?” said the hypnotist, stepping up next to me. “Looks like your friends were hypnotized after all. What do you think that means for you?”
Before I could answer, I felt the hypnotist place a palm on my shoulder, and it was just then that I realized how important the song was that was playing. The reason I knew it was that my ballet company—one of the best in the world—had been choreographing a routine to it for years, and now was finally our big chance to show off our work to a live audience.
Quickly but gracefully rising to my feet, I spread my arms out at my sides like a beautiful swan and jumped delicately through the air. Unfortunately, there seemed to be something wrong with my leotard, which apparently fit too snugly around my waist and I think started ripping in the back, as I felt a split down the upper half of my butt. Reaching down, I tugged the fabric, trying to make sure my costume stayed in place, and I think I did a fairly good job of ensuring everything remained professional, as it stayed on rather tightly after that and only somewhat inhibited my movement. Meanwhile, all around me, my fellow dancers were moving in perfect unison. After the years we’d spent choreographing this routine, I’d be damned if I was going to let a faulty leotard throw us off.
I was vaguely aware of someone talking in the background, helpfully calling out steps or pointers, which seemed a kind of strange thing to do at a professional performance, but nevertheless proved very helpful. After a minute or so, for instance, in which I stumbled a little around the stage because of my over-tight leggings, the voice reminded us that it was time for duets, and I was quickly grabbed by one of my fellow performers (a daring dancer who had to perform his part completely nude), who lifted me up high in the air. He spun around gracefully, and I stretched my arms out wide before he set me down again, unfortunately allowing my ripped leotard to slide about halfway down my legs in the process. Reaching down as I landed, I quickly pulled it up, leaving no one the wiser as I bounded off, doing my best to keep my back from the audience.
As the four of us continued dancing, the crowd went wild, particularly as that same performer grabbed me from behind and pressed himself into my back, taking my hands in his and conducting me around for several paces before spinning me in a graceful pirouette.
In the background, our coach continued speaking, sometimes offering advice (there was something we were all supposed to look out for on the stage floor) and sometimes saying other words that seemed absolutely irrelevant to me. I could hear people yelling intermittently nearby, but I wasn’t entirely sure what they were yelling about. Again, judging by the reaction from the crowd, it didn’t seem to be disturbing the show, and I figured it must have been a chorus or something we’d added that I’d forgotten about. I continued stumbling around a bit, often having to keep one hand at the top front of my leotard to hold it steady, but the audience’s enthusiastic response helped me press on, and the music was easy to get lost in.
A few moments later, I heard our trainer say something about all of us dancers being “comfortable” with our routines, and I was suddenly jolted by the sensation that someone had just shoved a finger up my ass. I looked around briefly, flustered, but quickly regained my composure and tried to lose myself in the music again, skipping and pirouetting around the stage. There was a lot of complicated choreography in this routine, and I figured someone’s finger had probably just slipped. Friendly fire and all that.
Soon after, our coach made another comment about the dancers needing to get slightly more “intimate,” and I suddenly realized that, in spite of our long day practicing, all of my fellow dancers smelled really good! Thankfully, at this point it was time for group performance anyway, and we all quickly pressed together, throwing our arms over each other’s shoulders and trying to move in unison with the music.
Unfortunately, after throwing my arms around my friends’ shoulders, my over-tight leotard again caused me to stumble, sending my spilling down to the ground, dragging my partners along with me. The audience continued wildly cheering and applauding, so I figured we could probably just improvise an avant garde performance from here. Our trainer kept rambling on about how “intimate” our routine was, and that strange feeling just kept growing inside me that all my fellow dancers smelled really good—like, better and better by the second—and I couldn’t resist smelling them. Soon we were rolling around in a ball on the stage, driving our noses into each others’ crevices while still maintaining a half-hearted attempt to keep moving in time with the music. Everyone must have been feeling the same way I was, as I kept sensing noses pressing all over my body—in my armpits, against my shoulders, into the underwear between my legs. For my part, I knew we couldn’t be too far off in our routine, and when our coach suggested I would find my troupe-mates’ rear ends particularly fragrant, boy was he right! Once I began digging my nose into Hector’s backside in particular, it was only him crawling away to sniff someone else that could (however briefly) get me out of there.
I could hear the crowd absolutely roaring, on its feet, a standing ovation! The music swelled and I heard our coach faintly say that when the music stopped, we would realize what we were doing—something which only seemed to make sense, since as a trained professional I’d known exactly what I was doing the whole time!
When the music finally cut off, it took me a second to come to my senses. I blinked for a moment, still wanting to nuzzle into whatever wonderful thing I had just been smelling, and it took the jolt of someone around me to make me realize that I was lying in a big pile of writhing male bodies. Yanking my head up, I saw that my face had been nuzzled deep in the behind of Hector’s cargo shorts, and I suddenly understood that I had been lying on the ground, sniffing his ass-crack through his pants.
Hector, for his part, was frantically shoving himself away from Ryan. I couldn’t be quite sure what he’d been doing in the frantic scramble, but Ryan’s splayed legs managed to suggest something even less appetizing than had been happening for me. Josh, meanwhile, had been somewhere up under Hector’s arm, and Ryan was frantically shoving away Josh’s legs, yelling at the top of his lungs about “fucking disgusting shit.”
“…any anger already beginning to fade with each snap of my fingers…” a voice droned on in the distance, accompanied by a slow, rhythmic thumping over some sort of loudspeaker, “…sleep quickly beginning to overcome your tired bodies and minds… So excited to sit back down again… to sit back in that comfortable chair you first started out in… to sit back and relax…” Even as I climbed to my feet, I could feel my eyelids drooping, my vision becoming bleary. “It’s all you can do to stumble back to that chair, sit down and let everything go… Deeeep to sleeeeep…” the voice continued, so soothing.
Strangely, I realized it was right. My confusion, still so fresh it hadn’t had time to be replaced completely by anger or panic, was rapidly dissipating, quickly overcome by the gauzy fuzziness of exhaustion. I still wasn’t quite sure what I’d been doing, but I was quickly realizing it didn’t matter. Right now, all I wanted was to sit down, rest, and figure it out later.
Staggering to my feet, I barely had the wherewithal to reach down and adjust my pants, which for some reason had slipped down in the process of whatever I’d been doing. I had some vague recollection of a problem with them, of eating too much at a buffet or something and having trouble keeping them on, but I pulled them up as best I could and staggered along, feeling like I was approaching my seat again with agonizing slowness.
“…it doesn’t matter where you sit, only that you find a seat and join all the others up here in that deep, wonderful sleep…” the voice continued, and I pushed forward, noticing through bleary eyes that I was almost at my destination. I vaguely recognized some of the forms in front of me, half of whom were already sprawled out in exhaustion, exactly as I wanted to be. At the end of the row of chairs, a guy in a blue shirt was bent neatly over, head resting between his knees, arms dangling by his side. The chairs next to him were quickly being filled by people I groggily recognized as my friends. Each plopped down and immediately went limp, sprawling wildly in his seat, the next having to shove an arm or a leg to make enough room for himself to sit down and repeat the process. In among all my friends sat another guy, wearing a baggy sleeveless t-shirt and cargo shorts and a pair of thick-framed black glasses. He looked strangely spaced out, and a guy behind him was whispering something in his ear, raising a hand next to the side of his head. With a soft snap of the guy’s fingers, the boy in the chair was out like a light, his body collapsed forward just like the guy in the blue shirt at the end of the row.
“Very good, everyone almost asleep now, continuing to sink deeper,” the man behind the boy in the glasses continued, standing back up and moving away as I continued shuffling to my seat. I was so close! So close I could almost taste it! How I envied my neighbor’s slumber. I couldn’t wait to sit down and feel myself slumping over beside him, just like him, like all my friends! Somehow, as strange and dreamlike as this was, it nevertheless felt familiar, as though I had done it a hundred times before…
“Drifting peacefully down… All except for Mike and Ant, who are gonna show us one last time our favorite spectacle…” the voice continued. I looked around. What was he talking about? I was so tired. I only wanted to sleep. This was no time for-
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. At the other end of the stage, a guy was getting up, walking to the center of the platform. He turned around to face the back of the stage, unzipped his pants, bent over, and pulled down his shorts, sticking his butt out at the audience.
I knew what to do. I had to go kiss it. Whenever this happened that’s what I did. It was my job. I slowly turned, shuffled over to the center stage, bent down, puckered up, and planted a big, wet kiss right in the middle of one of the round, white globes. Somewhere deep, deep down in the foggiest regions of my mind, I was aware that this was some guy’s scrawny pale ass, but as far as my conscious mind was concerned, it was just a thing. I was supposed to kiss it whenever you could see it. That was my part to play.
Pulling my lips away, I could still hear the voice softly in the back of my mind—“…deep Paul, deep, deep—spectacle—deep asleep…”—and so I bent down again and planted another, even wetter kiss back where I had left the first one. Again, starting to come up, always faintly aware of that strange voice in the back of my mind, I again registered—“Spectacle. French it this time”—and I again leaned down and gave the thing another kiss, extending my tongue and rubbing it gently over the soft, smooth surface.
After a few wonderful seconds of this, I stood back up and finally started back to my seat, passing a figure walking across stage and cooing into a microphone, “Very good, Mike…” I felt proud, though I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I continued shuffling across the stage in my fog, mind only on returning to my seat and sitting back down to rest.
“Sleep Ant, waaaaay down…” I heard behind me. From the corner of my eye, I could see the form of that strange man, reaching out to help someone stumbling forward onto the stage.
I had just reached my seat again when this form caught up with me, and I could barely keep my eyes above the floor as I turned around, ready to plop back into my chair and into a deep, profound slumber. At this exact moment, I felt a strong yet gentle hand on my shoulder, guiding me into my chair, and heard a firm, powerful snap in my ear—“Sleep.”
I collapsed, eyes sliding shut, my mind going instantly and perfectly blank.