MIKE THE SOMNAMBULIST
Intermission
by StageShowMM
“—wide awake. All right, get the fuck out of here, guys. I couldn’t hypnotize any of you.”
I blinked, looking around and trying to get my bearings. I must have zoned out. Where was I?
A row of chairs stretched out on either side of me, and all around me guys were shifting and looking around in their seats. To my immediate right, this hipster-looking kid with thick-framed glasses, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts that were way too baggy for his frame, looked around awkwardly, as though trying to orient himself. Further past him, I recognized my three friends, Ryan, Hector and Josh. Hector and Josh were standing up, and Ryan was stretching in his seat, though for some reason he was naked. It was then I finally remembered we were at that hypnosis show. How had I forgotten? We’d come up hoping to get a better view of those hot girls, and the hypnotist had been trying—quite unsuccessfully—to get us to go under for the past ten or fifteen minutes.
I looked around, trying to spot the girls we’d come up with, but for the life of me I couldn’t see them. I wasn’t sure I even saw any girls onstage, for that matter.
To my direct left was this Asian guy I remembered from before. He was shifting around in his seat, helping this scrawny kid off him who looked barely older than a teenager, and who was blinking his eyes groggily and shaking his head. Beyond them stretched a row of other guys, all of whom were looking around confusedly or climbing to their feet and collecting their things. One guy, a slender, alternative-looking dude in a black wifebeater and camo shorts was pushing himself off the floor and—it looked like—yanking up his pants as he rushed behind a curtain.
Jesus, what an embarrassment. I didn’t exactly have a ton of respect for this hypnotist, but it had to be pretty humiliating to stand up here a good quarter hour with a stage full of people and not be able to get a single person under. I almost felt sorry for him—almost—but more than anything I was just happy I finally had a chance to leave. It was just like I’d been telling the guys: if we sat up here and waited, the hypnotist would realize we weren’t hypnotized and send us on our way. I couldn’t help but think that maybe if he’d try doing some girls next time, he might get a few better subjects. I don’t know why I thought girls must be easier to hypnotize than guys, it just seemed like they might be more susceptible to suggestion or something. From the looks of things right now, hypnosis certainly didn’t seem to work too well on men.
“Come on, guys, get the fuck out of here,” said the hypnotist, turning toward the audience. “We’ll take a 10- or 15-minute break while we get set up for the second act.” I wondered what he meant by “second act.” He hadn’t gotten anyone under! Maybe he was going to try again with a new batch of subjects. I resolved that I certainly wouldn’t be sticking around to find out.
“The bathroom will be restricted to the boys for the first five minutes, but they’ll be mingling around before and after, so take some time to introduce yourselves. I know you’re all going to want to meet them,” he added. The audience clapped—I had no idea why.
Standing up, I looked back over toward my friends, two of whom were already starting across the stage toward the steps. Hector I couldn’t even see. I guessed he must have just hopped off the front of the stage or something, probably even more anxious to get out of there than I was—he had seemed the most wigged out by the whole hypnosis thing.
I shuffled away from my seat and fell in behind Josh and Ryan, making a mental note to ask Ryan where his fucking clothes were once we got offstage. I seemed to remember something about him playing a joke that involved taking them off, so maybe they were back by his seat or something. Still, I couldn’t quite believe he had the balls to walk around naked in front of a roomful of strangers. I knew Ryan was proud of his body—honestly, he had every right to be—but usually he was too worried about some dude checking him out to do anything like that.
As I started down the steps behind Ryan and Josh, I felt a weird tugging on my jeans, as though they were on too tight or something. I yanked at the waist with my hand to readjust them, but it didn’t seem to help much. I figured I should probably change when we got back to the hotel. I had no idea what could be wrong with them. They fit fine this morning.
The second I stepped offstage, however, it suddenly occurred to me that I was missing something. How could I have forgotten the little dog we brought with us? Panic flooded my chest as I realized how big a fuckup I was. All of us at the frat loved that little guy! I hadn’t even thought it was a good idea to bring him on this trip, but I’d volunteered to take care of him just to make sure he’d stay safe. The guys were gonna kill me if I lost that dog. I had to find it!
The area around the stage at the bottom of the stairs was a fucking zoo. People were crowding around—I had no idea what for—and it was hard to push past them and get onto the now-lighted main floor. It was weird seeing the place lit up again like when we’d come in—you could see the tables and all the people, instead of this mysterious, laughing blackness beyond the edge of the stage (what had they been laughing at if none of us were hypnotized?)—but what was even weirder was being here without my dog. I stood on my tiptoes, looking around frantically, trying to see if I could spot him anywhere. “Blow Me!” I yelled out his name, hands cupped around my mouth. “Blow Me!”
A couple of guys and a girl, approaching like they wanted to speak to me, cracked up, and I looked over at them frantically. What the fuck was their problem? I decided to play on their pity.
“Have you seen my tiny cock?” I asked, since Blow Me was a miniature Cocker Spaniel. “Hey, Blow Me!” I called out again, as loud as I could.
All three were laughing again, and one of the guys grinned, “Anytime if I can get your number. It sure didn’t look that little to me!” He stuck out his hand. I wasn’t sure why he was introducing himself, but it seemed rude not to shake it—maybe he was going to offer help finding my dog.
The second I took the guy’s hand, however, I felt the most intense wave of pleasure I had ever experienced flowing right from the base of my balls. It was like cumming times a thousand, though thankfully that physical process wasn’t actually happening in my pants. Instead, I felt my knees give way and I sunk to the ground, doubling over and moaning like a whore as waves of pleasure coursed through my body.
When the guy finally let go, his hand was quickly replaced by his female companion’s—an attractive though chubby 20-something—and I felt the pleasure begin anew. “Awwww, fuck!” I moaned. I gripped her hand tightly and wrapped my other arm around her legs, feeling sexy as hell all of a sudden and loving being finally close to a woman.
The lady seemed surprised by my unexpected act of affection, and giggled and pulled away, letting go of my hand in the process. Still gasping, I half rose to my feet, vaguely remembering that there was something important I was supposed to be doing right now.
“Great job up there. I hope we can see some more of that nice cock,” said another guy, this one in his mid-40s, kind of dorky looking and wearing a polo and running shoes that looked overly white. He grabbed my hand before I could pull away, and before I knew it, I was back on the ground, on one hand and my knees this time, bucking my pelvis and moaning again.
When the gross middle-aged guy finally let go, I stayed kneeling for a moment, panting, before looking around. Maybe on the floor I’d have a better chance of finding my dog.
“Blow Me! Blow Me!” I called, looking around for him in the forest of legs.
“Hey, let me help you up,” said the third guy from the original group, a 20-something like his friend, dressed stylishly in a dress shirt and slacks. “You’re a really awesome subject!”
Subject of what? Without thinking I reached up and took his hand, which immediately sent me collapsing back to the ground, moaning, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” I barely even noticed the three of them laughing their asses off, I was so far in heaven.
When this latest guy finally let go, I quickly tried to regain my composure and push myself to my feet. I had to find my little dog!
“Blow Me? Blow Me!” I hollered, almost ready to start crying. “Has anybody seen my tiny cock?” I yelled again in desperation.
“Nice job up there, boy,” said someone else, a burly guy with a mustache wearing some kind of leather vest. He was holding out his hand. I knew I had to find my dog, but somehow, despite everything that had happened with all the other handshakes, it still seemed rude not to shake his hand too.
“Ooooh! Oh!” I found myself moaning again, stumbling as I started cumming and grabbing the guy’s thick arm for support as I collapsed against his chest.
“Hey, whadda ya know, this slut likes me!” he said, and I was vaguely aware of everyone around us laughing as I pressed the side of my face into the exposed hair of his chest.
Finally, he let go and I pushed away, groaning and brushing at my face where I’d touched his gross, sweaty hair. All around me people were holding out their hands, and for some reason I felt compelled to shake all of them:
A willowy, 60-something dude in a full suit and tie. “Nice to meet you. You’re quite an excellent subject.”
“Oh! Ooh-ooooh!”
A couple queeny guys in their 30s, too-made-up, shiny dress shirts unbuttoned halfway down their waxed, tanning bed-blasted chests. “Thanks for volunteering. We’re loving the show.”
“Oh yes! Oh fuck!”
This dominatrix-looking lady, big and busty, with curly blonde hair, wearing a black top that shoved her overabundant cleavage out at you with pathetic desperation: “You’re an excellent subject. If you’re ever interested in an erotic hypnosis session, please give me a call.”
What the fuck was she talking about? She pressed a card into my hand as she reached out to shake it.
“Oh! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!”
She held on longer than most, and I threw my arm over her shoulder as I collapsed into her, writhing in ecstasy.
“Wonderful, slave. Feel the pleasure coursing through your body a thousand times more powerful…” Yes, she was right! I moaned louder. “You love receiving pleasure from your mistress—”
“Hey, give someone else a turn!”
Someone else grabbed me by the other hand, yanking it off the strange lady’s shoulder, and I felt the pleasure in my dick increase a thousand times more. “Oh, FUCK!” I screamed, writhing around between them and thrusting my crotch as everyone around me laughed.
Finally, both let go, and I collapsed forward, resting both my hands on my knees in a half-squat, panting.
“Hey, Mike?” I heard loudly behind me, and turned to see the hypnotist up onstage, standing by the edge, looking down at me. “Since you’re proving so popular tonight, maybe you wanna come up here and I can help you find your dog a little easier, huh?”
I blinked blearily for a second, trying to figure everything out. What did he mean by “so popular?” I had just been wandering through the crowd, trying to find my dog. But he was right. Things would be a lot easier if I didn’t have to shake the hand of every person I passed the whole time. This guy may have been a crappy hypnotist, but he was still pretty okay.
I walked the few steps back to the stage and started up a couple of the stairs.
“Oh, by the way Mike, do you have to pee?” the hypnotist asked, approaching me.
I stopped and blinked once or twice, thinking for a second. I guess I kind of did. I had had a beer or two before coming up. I nodded.
“Why don’t you forget about introducing yourself for now? Just go to the bathroom in the back and take a piss. You will ignore all requests to shake your hand until you finish relieving yourself.” The hypnotist snapped casually, and I blinked a little, processing that thought. I guessed it was important to go to the bathroom if I had to. I didn’t want to cause any bladder damage. I nodded and thanked him, and headed back down the steps.
Off the stage, everyone was still milling around, thrusting hands at me. I pushed past, not having time for this at the moment. I had to find my dog, and I had to go pee.
Pushing through the crowd, I kept yelling, “Blow Me! Blow Me!” at the top of my voice, occasionally asking a random passer-by, “Have you seen my tiny cock?” For some reason, they always seemed to laugh, though they would still stick out their hands like they wanted to meet me. I just pressed on.
Looking around for my dog, I noticed a number of strange things. Throughout the room, I saw people in the crowd who I recognized from onstage earlier in the unsuccessful hypnotism show. Most of them were being trailed by audience members, as I had been, all of whom were extending their hands, trying to introduce themselves. A couple guys I noticed were both doubling over, moaning and groaning as everyone shook their hand. Toward the back of the room, I recognized a third guy, Paul—or was it Parker?—doing the same thing, and looking like he had some strange scarf on his head.
Also milling among the crowd I saw Sam and Jay, each wearing nothing but his underwear and carrying a waiter’s tray with cheap beers while passing among the tables. Throughout the room, people were calling them over, setting down cash on the trays, grabbing a drink, and then slipping a few more bills inside each guys’ undies. Both of them had crotches that were absolutely bulging with money, bills sticking out the sides and top all over the place. Many people were also giving them a firm slap on the ass as they turned away, which, strangely, neither of them seemed to mind—or even notice, it looked like. It also struck me as weird that the majority of their customers were dudes—indeed, the majority of the audience was!—but I figured they must have been waiters at the bar who’d been pressed into the show or something, and they were probably used to all this. I pressed along, desperate to find the bathroom and my dog.
“Has anyone seen my tiny cock?” I yelled again, passing into the slightly emptier middle of the room and making my way up the couple stairs to the second tier. “Blow Me!” Everyone around me was laughing and having a great time, which just made me more miserable about my lost dog...
Finally reaching the back of the room, and still being trailed by a few people trying to shake my hand, I looked around and finally spotted the men’s room, which had a long line of people waiting next to it, along with a big burly guy in a tight black t-shirt standing outside the door. I was prepared to head to the back of the line and wait, but spying me in the crowd, the guy motioned me forward, saying in a deep rumble, “Boys in the show can go in.”
“Uh, thanks,” I said, feeling a little strange about being called a “boy.”
He looked me up and down, as though sizing me up. What was his fucking problem? Didn’t he just say I could go in?
“You look good, man,” he said. “What’s the password?”
Password? Oh, of course! How silly of me! Stepping forward, I wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, opened my mouth, closed it against his and pressed my tongue deeply and sensuously inside. I felt his thick tongue playing back against mine as I wriggled it around, closing my eyes for maximum effect.
Finally, I pulled away and he wiped his lips. “Fuck. Open sesame.” He pulled the door open.
“Thanks,” I said with a smile, stepping past him and avoiding the line. What a nice guy.
Inside the bathroom there weren’t very many people. Len, that Asian guy from before, was in the corner, and had his dress pants around his ankles for some reason, apparently trying to slip them over his shoes. In front of the mirror I recognized Kyle, also from onstage. He was looking at himself, and had what looked like a pair of boxer shorts on his head, which he was adjusting rather meticulously. Apparently satisfied, he smiled and nodded at me as he headed out the door. Shaking my head, I crossed the bathroom and pulled up to the urinal. What a weirdo.
Looking down, I remembered I was wearing one of those pairs of jeans with the larger pockets in the front which don’t have a fly. Instead, I hooked my thumbs under the waistband and pulled them and my underwear down a bit, hauling out my dick and closing my eyes to take a whiz. God it felt good. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to pee!
After what seemed like a blissful eternity, I finally finished and stuffed my cock back into my jeans, pulling them up again. I could remember buying these pants. I knew then that they were a little tight, but I’d really wanted a pair like this with the front pockets, so that must have been why I’d gotten them a few sizes too small. They were a bit uncomfortable, but I was glad I at least looked fashionable. The back flaps patted my ass as I crossed the bathroom, heading to the sink.
Toward the side, the Asian dude was pulling his pants back up and buckling his belt in the corner. I noticed he had what looked like a pair of designer Calvin Klein boxer briefs on his head. Finishing up, he made one last check that his shirt was tucked in neatly and then headed over to another one of the mirrors as I was finishing washing my hands. “I can’t believe he tried to get us to wear these like that,” he said, smiling and pointing from his head to his crotch. I stared at him for a second like he was crazy. What was this guy talking about, and why was he wearing underwear on his head?
Wordlessly, I turned and grabbed a paper towel, drying my hands quickly. The door to the restroom opened again, and in stepped Ant, another guy I recognized from the hypnosis show. Catching my eye, he nodded, and headed into the middle of the room, where he started unbuckling his belt and pulling down his shorts and boxers.
“Hey, your pants are on backwards,” I thought I heard Len say as I stepped out of the restroom, though considering how messed up he was about underwear, I obviously chose to ignore him.
Outside once more, I realized it was time to continue searching for my dog, so immediately I began yelling again, as loud as I could, “Blow Me! Blow Me! Has anyone seen my tiny cock? Blow Me!”
Immediately, people started laughing and pointing and coming up to me, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ryan, still buck naked, strutting away from the bar, carrying a big tray of beers and weaving among the tables, offering them up to everyone just like Jay and Sam.
“Hey, Mike, nice to meet you. I think your dog’s over there!” said a chubby, 30s-ish Latino guy with a goatee, walking forward and sticking out his hand.
“Blow Me?” I cried. “Blow Me!”
Already heading away, I took the guy’s hand, since he offered it, and quickly keeled over, moaning and groaning again. When he finally let go, I found myself in front of a group of several Asian businessmen, all well dressed in suits and ties. The closest one to me held out his hand and dipped forward slightly. “Nice meet,” he lisped in halting English as he pressed his palm to mine.
“Oh yeah! Oh god!” I moaned on my knees before him. Another of them stooped down and grabbed my other hand, and the pleasure increased a hundred-fold. I started screaming and rocking back and forth, feeling better than I’d ever felt in my whole life. The group of guys took turns passing my hands among each other, and the pleasure increased exponentially each time. By the time they finally let go, I was writhing and moaning on my back on the floor, totally exhausted.
Things continued like this for quite some time, as I slowly made my way around the room, desperately trying to find my dog. Everyone I met seemed more amused by my problem than anything, though they were all really eager to introduce themselves. Stranger still, each time someone took my hand, I found myself experiencing further waves of orgasmic pleasure, sending me staggering to my knees. By the end, I was barely able to walk, and I stumbled weakly around the lower area near the stage, vainly calling, “Blow Me? Blow Me! Have you seen my tiny cock? BLOW ME!”
By this point, people who’d already introduced themselves were coming back up and doing it again, and I was barely able to think straight, I was so tired and desperate to find my dog. When I heard the hypnotist say “Olly olly oxen free!” I figured at last someone was trying to help, and I decided that maybe he would be willing to let me borrow his microphone to find my dog.
Stumbling back onstage, I noticed the entire row of chairs had been rearranged, the line straightened back up and—most surprisingly—almost all the chairs again occupied. A few people in front of me were plopping down into seats—a number of them, like Len, with underwear on their heads for some reason—and behind me, a couple more guys were also climbing the stairs to the performance area. I recognized Arpit, who also had underwear on his head, as well as Parker, who was wearing it too. Paul was nearby, and had no pants on for some reason. He was just sitting there in a t-shirt, shoes and boxer shorts.
“How’s it goin’, Mike?” asked the hypnotist, walking up to me and holding out his microphone.
“I can’t find my tiny cock,” I said sadly. The audience burst out laughing.
“I’m sure there’s plenty of people here who’d be more than happy to help,” said the hypnotist, and the audience cackled again.
“IT’S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!” I yelled in frustration, which just made them laugh even more. I didn’t need their help. All they seemed to offer were handshakes.
“Maybe try using this,” said the hypnotist, motioning for me to grab the mic.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. Quickly snatching the object from his hand, I strode toward the center of the stage and yelled, “Blow Me! Blow Me! BLOW! ME!” The audience was laughing and applauding wildly. At least everyone was heading back to their seats, thankfully making it easier to see the floor. I didn’t see my little dog anywhere!
Across the stage, I saw Ryan—still naked—and Jay and Sam—still in their colorful briefs, money sticking out in every direction—climbing the stairs and heading back to find seats in the row of chairs. Glancing back, I could see that all but a few were now filled. I wondered what was going on.
“Have you tried using doggie talk, Mike? Maybe he’ll respond better to that,” suggested the hypnotist.
Figuring anything was worth a shot, I held the microphone back up to my mouth and yelled, “Arf! Arf arf!” Again, the audience cracked up! I couldn’t see what their problem was!
“Try getting down on all fours. He might respond to something he recognizes,” said the hypnotist.
I quickly kneeled down, pressed one palm to the stage and, using the other hand to hold the microphone to my mouth, again yapped, “Arf! Rrrr-arf! Arf arf!” The whole room tittered.
“Tell you what, Mike, don’t worry about that. Just grab a seat and I’ll take care of everything,” said the hypnotist.
Frustrated, I climbed back up to my feet and grabbed one of the few chairs still remaining, on the side of the stage further from the stairs, near Jay and Sam.
“Ah, a straggler,” said the hypnotist, as Josh stumbled up and made his way across the stage, plunking down in the empty seat on the other side of me. I looked around. It seemed like almost everyone was here from before, but I could still see an empty seat down at the end of the row. Who was missing?
“All right, everyone take a nice, deep breath in,” said the hypnotist, reaching his hand up into the air. I did as he said, drawing a deep, calming breath of oxygen into my lungs.
Wait, I thought. It only then occurred to me that I was sitting back up here with everyone who had been here before. Was the hypnotist trying to hypnotize us again? I had wanted more than anything to get out of here. Why was I back onstage?
“Focus all your attention on my hand and just hold that breath,” continued the hypnotist. I looked up at his hand, since why not, and concentrated on keeping that air in my lungs without really thinking about it.
“Eyes closing, head dropping back down to your chest at the count of three, two, one...”
The hypnotist brought his hand down slowly as he said this, seemingly dragging my eyelids and head down with it as if by voodoo.
“Sleep.”