“If you don’t want to be hypnotized, just say so now: otherwise, I won’t be responsible.”

My audience all laughed: I said it in such a light-heartedly joking manner that they didn’t realize the seriousness of it. In fact, they all took it for a joke, thinking, I knew full well, that they all thought they could resist my hypnotic prowess. But, since none of them objected, they were unconsciously agreeing to let me be hypnotize them, trapping themselves inside my subtle web of hypnotic control, and I was seriously prepared to take advantage of the situation, over each and every one of them, and enjoy every minute of it.

And why not? I was special and I deserved to have my fun.

I grew up hearing that I was special all my life, and, about the time I could really understand what it meant, I already knew it.

I was one of those Indigo Children. We were supposed to be the chosen ones, the ones to destined lead the rest of dull humanity to some kind of “cosmic consciousness” awareness, all crystals and auras and such. We were supposed to be gifted, having all kinds of psychic powers, being able to heal, see auras and chakras, all that nonsense. We were worshiped, adored, even venerated: we were also unrestrained, undisciplined, uncontrollable, and downright immature. I loved it, and I wasn’t unique.

But in many ways, I was unique.

To this day, I never found any one else who shared my extremely pale completion that never seemed to burn under the bright Midwestern sun and my silk-like white hair that never seemed to hold any color, natural or artificial. No other children matched my sudden growth spurt in my early teens, growth in more ways than just height, such that by the age of fifteen I looked several years older, as well as granting me a curvaceous figure that could star in any porno flick or haute coture runway. Plus the things I kept to myself, such as my exceptional intelligence and perfect memory, or how I never got sick, or how any cut or scrape or bruise healed almost overnight, all made me realize I was certainly unique and definitely special.

And then there were my amethyst eyes, a shade unlike any other eyes I ever saw. People found them fascinating, enchanting, even: they tended to ‛zone out’ while gazing deeply into them; in that state, they become highly suggestible. I think that its something about their unusual color and the way it shifts and plays in my eyes that triggers something primal in the brain: other people’s brains, that is; I could never get it to work on myself. I first thought it was only a simple trick, but after watching some old movie and seeing how a vampire seduced his victim with his hypnotic gaze that I realized what power I actually possessed. I knew my eyes were not quite that powerful, but with some research into psychological techniques like hypnotism and much training and practice, my powers of manipulation would be very useful.

But it was while I was exploring the possibilities of the power of my eyes and hypnotism I discovered my greatest secret: just whispers at first, barely audible, but with practice and concentration, I could hear what people were thinking, first the ones gazing into my eyes and finally everyone around me, and ultimately even whisper suggestions into their minds. While some of the Indigo Children boasted about being able to read minds, I knew that was only an act: they were using some well-known techniques at reading people, whereas I did the real thing. When I combined that talent with the power my eyes had over others and the power of hypnosis, I figured that I could eventually make anyone do just about anything I desired.

All I needed was practice. Lots of practice manipulating people’s minds.

I was looking forward to it: it would be so much fun.

Every Saturday night was party night at Becky’s place for the small group of friends she invited. She liked to party but didn’t have the money, as she was renting this big old house close to the campus, so she provided the space and everyone else provided the supplies.

I discovered the group quite by accident, and decided it would be the perfect place to begin practicing. We shared a class, so it was easy to befriend Becky and whisper the suggestions to her to get an invitation to the party. That first night, she introduced me to the others: Crystal Windsong, college junior, transfer student majoring in psychology and theater.

As part of my own introduction, I just ‛happened’ to mention that I was taking a class about hypnosis. To get the party started, I whispered into the mind of one of the guys there, Brad, to dare me to show off my training. It was easier than it seemed: I was counting on his habit of him always needing something to fill his raging boredom at anything not shaking a pair of boobs in his face. I could tell that he was secretly hoping that I’d make one or more of the girls present do exactly that through hypnosis, and possibly beyond. Therefore, I was going to make him my first victim.

I stood in the center of the living room, all eyes watching me, feeling the familiar thrill of being the center of attention once again. After I cast my subtle web of hypnotic control around them, I turned toward Brad and said “Okay, Brad, if you want a show, then you’ll be my first subject.”

He started to protest but everyone else shouted him down, and he acquiesced. He would be so easy to trance: a casual scan of his mind told me exactly the right buttons to push on him. I wouldn’t even need the power of my eyes to entrance him: all those movies where the hypnotist exerts his (or, in my case, her) will over their subject by having them look into their eyes were playing out in the back of Brad’s mind (and everyone else’s as well.) I didn’t even need to whisper my suggestions into his mind: all I needed to do was captivate his conscious mind with my eyes and every suggestion to sleep I made would drop immediately into his subconscious mind, where it would be irresistibly accepted. But I still was going to use every trick in my book here to put him in a trance: the more irresistible I made the first inductions appear, the easier the rest would be.

“Brad, stand up,” I said and he reluctantly complied. “Now, face me.” Good: once I had a pattern of compliance established, I knew he was going to fall, as if I needed confirmation. “Brad,” I continued, affecting a sultry tone that was just what his memories were leading him to expect, as removed my glasses to expose my amethyst eyes, “look into my eyes.”

He looked, and at that moment I knew I had him. Those memories of movies with hypnotists and their victims were encouraging him to respond as the people on screen responded, and Brad’s mind was rapidly drowning in an amethyst ocean of deep surrender, where my whispers in his mind were encouraging him to fall under my hypnotic control. I estimated he’d be under in less than thirty seconds.

“Your eyes are getting heavy,” I continued, switching to my lullaby induction voice. “They are getting heavier and heavier, like you’re going to sleep, sleep, sleep.”

I wasn’t expecting a dull, insensitive jerk to be a major-league hypnotic subject, but he was already showing all the signs, even without my talents involved: his eyes quickly started watering and reddening and his breathing became deep and slow. It just goes to show that even someone who can read people like billboard signs and hear what they’re thinking most of the times can still misread people. All he needed now was my permission (or maybe even my command) to go into a trance, and I was ready to supply it.

“Sleep, Brad,” I said as I stoked his left temple. I then cursed myself for not emphasizing earlier that people when entranced would remain upright, as he collapsed into my arms. Fortunately I’m stronger than I appear, or else we’d both have wound up on the floor.

Still, his reaction led to a corresponding reaction from the audience. Every guy was speechless, and every girl was visibly excited at the sight of Brad entranced in my arms and at the thought of what I could do with him in that state. Just another reflection of the mythologies of hypnosis among people, but what I could do with people went far deeper.

It took me a moment and a few instructions to get Brad standing back on his feet, which gave me the opportunity to consider what to do with him. My obvious hesitation led to several suggestions and recommendations, all of which we laughed at, until a voice unheard from all evening spoke from the opposite side of the room.

“Give him to me.”

We all turned to stare at Elizabeth, the shy mouse among the circle who helped Becky with her homework.

“Let me take him and give him a workout. I’ve been fantasizing about that bad boy’s bod for months.”

“You can’t be serious: the way he treats women,” Becky started to say, but Elizabeth cut her off.

“I don’t want what’s in his head, just what’s in his pants.”

We all chuckled. “Very well, as long as you take precautions,” Becky added.

Elizabeth nodded and pulled out a wrapped condom from her purse. “There’s plenty more where this came from,” she said confidently, as she looked at me. I could only shrug and nod my head.

Elizabeth unfolded her tall frame from where she had been sitting. I really hadn’t noticed before, but she was actually strikingly attractive, with an athlete’s body and a thick mane of golden-honey-brown hair. I wouldn’t mind spending time with her, her deeply entranced, that it. She came over to me where I was standing with Brad and took his arm in hers. She started to step away but stopped when I spoke.

“Oh, Elizabeth?”

“Yes?” she said, looking at me and my entrancing eyes through her stylish glasses, and I could see her eyes start to go out of focus, her mind falling under the power of my amethyst eyes. I could tell that my induction of Brad was a strong memory in her mind and I was able to make use of that. All it took was the brief moment that she gazed into my eyes and fell under their power, a whisper to remind her just how Brad went under looking into these same eyes and the same command to sleep, and she’d go under in an instant.

“Sleep!”

Elizabeth responded exactly as she saw Brad respond by dropping immediately into trance: she wasn’t nearly as good a subject as Brad but with a little assistance from me she would be good enough. Fortunately I didn’t have to keep her from falling over, her arm in Brad’s was taking care of that.

I started to grin: this was working out even better than I had expected. And I knew just what to do with the both of them.

“Brad, Elizabeth, listen to me, listen only to me.”

I told them that when I gave them permission, they would open their eyes and see each other as their most ardent fantasy lover come to life. They would go into the next room and have the most incredible sex they have ever had. Plus, if there were any personality conflicts, Elizabeth’s wishes would prevail.

I repeated the suggestions several times, seeing out of the corner of my eyes some of the others visibly trying to hide their own arousal.

I kissed them both on the cheek, signaling the beginning of their entranced dream date, and they left the room, walking slowly, as their arms went around each other’s waist. I followed to be sure to close the door behind them before the fun began, watching momentarily as Elizabeth instructed Brad in her desires for foreplay.

I turned to look back at the rest of the group. Every one was staring at me the way I loved being stared at, with wide eyes of respect and even worship. Every one, I could tell, was half-entranced already and completely wide open to my hypnotic influence.

I walked to the center of the room. “So, who’s next?” I asked innocently.