M. (a hypnotism story)
Sedric attends a performance by a hypnotist known only as The Mysterious M. Little does he realise she'll have plans for thim
Sedric cast his eye over the cheaply-printed booklet that was on the table. Every table in the club had the same one, just a folded sheet of A4 with the visage of tonight's star performer, the Mysterious M., complete with the full stop, a buxom rat wearing a mask and flamboyant outfit that hadn't printed particularly well. The remaining three pages were peppered with boasts about her skills as a hypnotist and the entertainment value of the coming evening. There were some unrepresentative photos of the mysterious star with guys slumped in chairs, or doing bizarre things with props. The static photos didn't do a very good job of describing someone in a hypnotised state
Sedric shrugged and set the leaflet down, looking around the room casually. Most of the crowd seemed like they'd dressed up a little for the evening, which he supposed he had too. He wasn't at all surprised to be the only guy in shiny yellow rainsuit and black wellies though, even though for once it was actually raining outside. He smiled to himself, sticking a foot out and admiring the boot's bright yellow trim that followed the edge of the sole, and the drops of water still clinging to them much as they clung to his suit. These were great new boots. "Other people have no sense of style," he thought to himself with a smile as he sipped his coke
The house lights dimmed and the curtain opened on the empty stage. All that was to be seen was a wooden chair, a flight case and a microphone. Nor was there any sound initially until a loud clacking noise began, slow and rhythmic. The Mysterious M. walked onto stage, a towering figure swathed in fabrics and feathers and the same jet black mask she'd worn on the flyer, revealing only her eyes. The flyers didn't do her any kind of justice. She was an instantly captivating stage presence, the rhythm of her heels on the stage, the slow sway of her tail, every slight movement of her body and clothes seeming planned to draw you in
"Good evening," she began, slow and methodical, "I am the Mysterious M. You are all here tonight to see my skill in the art of hypnosis, in the exploration of the depths of the mind, and I shall not disappoint you nor keep you waiting. Who here would like to volunteer to be first?"
Several hands went up in the room. Sedric watched, fascinated, as M. looked slowly from one to the next until after a moment she pointed to an ocelot near the back, beckoning him up onstage with a finger
The evening went like this. With each round of hypnosis more people in the audience would put up their hands, and M. would repeat the same process of silently vetting them, perhaps deciding by body language who was going to be most responsive. The volunteers were never played for laughs, in fact the act seemed to border on performance art. M. would question her subjects lightly, sinking them into the trance as she did so through gestures and that steady, soothing voice. When they were under she gave them gestures to perform, roles to play, providing basic props and costumes from the box where appropriate. With the ocelot Sedric initially thought the whole act was going to be absurd, but he settled perfectly into his newly assigned role of chef, the rat seeming to divine something in the character of her volunteers that needed bringing out. She had such power over her crowd that Sedric wondered if she in fact had the entire room mesmerised
As the end was approaching, Sedric found himself more and more excited about the possibility of having the rat draw something out of him. He was almost shaking with trepidation the first time he put his hand up, losing out to a lady pigeon on that occasion. The second time he tried he steeled his nerves as best he could, convinced she'd seen how anxious he was, perhaps thinking he wasn't ready for this. His heart nearly stopped when she pointed that beckoning finger at him
"Would you care to introduce yourself?" M. asked the dragon as he darted onstage. He cleared his throat and leaned close to the mic
"Ah, Sedric, pleased to meet you," he said, voice breaking with nerves. The masked rat nodded slowly in acknowledgement, tail still drifting serpent-like behind her. All he could see of her face was her eyes and the dark brown fur just visible around them, but the expression he could read in them helped to soothe his jittery state. Carefully he settled down onto the chair she offered him, never taking his eyes off of hers
"You like to dress to impress don't you Sedric?" M. asked, standing over him. The dragon fumbled for a response
"I... I guess," was all he could manage. M. nodded again, still as slow and rhythmic as before
"That's good," she said, "you feel good wearing that outfit and you feel good being seen in it don't you?"
The dragon nodded, mouth dry
"I know it feels good to you to make an impression. You feel good don't you Sedric? Don't think about the audience watching you, only listen to my voice and realise how good you feel making that impression, dressing how you want to dress, behaving how you want to behave. Listen and let those good feelings wash over you like a pleasurable rain, let it wash everything away..."
Sedric did as he was told, eyes still locked on M.'s. The more she talked, at once gentle and commanding, the more peaceful he felt. The audience and then the stage faded out of his perception, his head lolling forward as he succumbed to his blissful state. For a long stretch afterwards the dragon had no idea what was happening. All he could pick up was the distant, warm sound of M.'s voice and her reassurances to behave and do exactly what felt right to him, not to worry what the audience thought. He couldn't even register the audience, if they were even there. It seemed like years could have passed, but finally the dragon found himself brought back to the waking world, stood up in front of the chair. M. simply nodded, holding what looked like a pair of gloves she hadn't had before. "Very good," she said, "it was a delight to work with you Sedric." She came up to him, whispering something in his ear before clicking her fingers
The dragon didn't know what he'd done onstage. He wasn't even sure what M. had just whispered to him, it seemed to have been blanked out by the click. He thanked her and blushed a little as he went back to his table, but he felt good about it too, like something had been opened up for him. The audience seemed peculiarly interested in him at least up until the next request for a volunteer, more than any of the others so far, and it made him extremely curious. He decided against asking them what had happened however. Somehow he was quite sure that whatever M. had done with him was for the better
===
Several days later, Sedric was in a coffee house settled in a booth tucked away at the back. He'd stumbled across this place on the way back from the hypnotism gig, and was already beginning to love it as a place he could sit with notebook and pencil, ordering occasional coffees whilst he wrote. The dragon was still dressed for wet weather including the same yellow-trimmed boots he'd worn to the show, though right now the sun was setting on what had been an extremely warm and pleasant evening. Quietly he smiled to himself about it. Of course the other customers gave him a curious or even amused eye about it, but they didn't disturb him and he was definitely enjoying the sensation of being on show
The dragon was returning from using the gents' room when he found someone had tossed a pair of gloves onto his table. He couldn't help staring at the gloves, which were familiar though he couldn't think where from. He would have stared anyway, since they were slick and shiny and rubbery and such materials instantly caught his eye, but these were special somehow. He looked around the diner as he sat down, unable to see anyone who might own them, and decided to try them on
The first glove felt nice as it enveloped his fingers, the dragon wiggling and flexing them instinctively as he admired it. The second glove followed, and that felt even better. And they looked beautiful on his hands, shining and catching the light. He couldn't resist stroking a finger or two down his rainjacket, listening to the small squeak as one slick material caught on another. It made him shiver pleasurably, suddenly heightening the feelings of how he must be on show, how his bright yellow raingear and black boots and especially those amazing black gloves must mark him out for attention, and it felt good!
The dragon's hand kept edging down his jacket whilst he continued looking at his other, still opening and closing and flexing those gleaming fingers. He heard the waitress's footsteps as she left him his coffee, absently thanking her for it as she left but otherwise barely registering her presence. He was much too interested in these gloves, in the gentle creak and squeak as he moved his hand, balled it into a fist and opened it up again. As an experiment, he flicked his tongue over a finger and shivered involuntarily. The thought of tasting and smelling the gloves was irresistible, and he made no effort against it. He pressed the fingers to his snout and inhaled their pleasing, rubbery fragrance before slipping a couple digits into his mouth to suck lightly, the taste just as good as the scent. His other hand had made its way down his jacket and found his crotch, the dragon's prick now straining against its slick yellow prison. He cupped the bulge in his hand, shivering again as the material squeaked a little more loudly and sucking more diligently on the gloved fingers in his mouth, half-imagining some well-hung stud in raingear and gloves of his own stood over him, grabbing his horns and fucking his snout whilst people watched. He didn't know if people were watching him now, the only people in the coffeehouse when last he paid any attention to it were the old beaver gent near the window and a pair of large cats by the wall and the waitress who'd brought his coffee. He would've been happy to have an audience though, a full crowd would do whilst he gave them a show
Thinking of that made him rub his cock more eagerly through the suit, the squeaking getting louder still. That wasn't enough though, the dragon knew he wanted to feel those gloves more closely. Without even looking around he unzipped his trousers to free his dick, wrapping his fingers around it and stifling a moan with the digits he was still sucking. Now he was really putting on a show as he started pumping his cock, feeling the blissful slick material slide up and down his rod, already the best handjob he'd ever given himself. This was seriously indecent behaviour, the dragon sure he'd be caught and thrown out or worse. He didn't care, the thought of being exposed and humiliated like that, in this gear and most especially these incredible gloves, only made him want and need it even more. He let go of the fingers in his mouth and looked at them, even more slick with his saliva. He knew what to do next
The dragon reached under himself, feeling around the opening where his tail stuck out of his rainpants, and wiggling the fingers under himself to find his anus. He wanted to be fucked by these gloves, beginning to tease a finger into the tight opening and gasping as he did so. It didn't take him long, working one finger and then two into himself to stroke and tickle his arse as the other hand was going hell for leather stroking his prick, each stroke like an electric charge. He was aware that the waitress was coming over to his booth, but it didn't matter. She could stay and watch if she liked, he was so close anyway. The dragon bit his lip as she arrived and swiftly cupped his wanking hand over the head of his dick as he came. He wasn't trying to prevent a mess, he just wanted to know his cum was being shot over that incredible glove!
Senses returning, he looked up groggily as the waitress wiped his table. She was a brown-furred rat, tall and buxom, smiling at him knowingly. Her nametag read 'Mandy'. "I hope you didn't mind my little parting suggestion too much, I had to find out where you were going to go if I let you carry on onstage," she said in a hushed, distinctive voice, "it looked like you could do with putting on a show of your own"
"Was I wearing these onstage?" Sedric asked, awkwardly removing the other hand from his anus as his orgasm subsided and his sense of self faded back in. Mandy nodded, speaking even more softly
"Mmm-hmm. I figured if you liked raingear you might like gloves too, and it helped to give you a little trigger. Plus I like gloves myself," she smiled, "so it works out as fun for both of us. You can keep that pair as a memento, I've got lots more where they came from"
Sedric blushed and nodded as she left him with a peck on the cheek. He looked around the rest of the room, reduced to just the elderly beaver who didn't look like he'd noticed anything, and covertly began licking his juice off the glove