his senses and awareness came back to him all at once, in a way that served to highlight their previous absence. he had obviously woken up from a trance. he recognized that immediately, before he even had the time to consciously think a single word.

but it was odd that he had to recognize it that way, based only on his feelings. he had never felt this sensation on its own. he had never been hit so hard with that feeling of waking up. there was something strange about that, although he wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

"how do you feel?" the hypnotist asked.

there was a sort of automatic mental check he performed in response - a question like that from them could have been implying something, prompting a specific feeling, reminding him of a suggestion, or a trigger. but he wasn't feeling anything that he hadn't already felt before they had spoken.

he froze for a moment, staring at them. what was this?

"are you alright?"

"i'm fine, i just... i don't know. something's..."

he felt like he was waiting for something. something that never came.

"it's alright," they said softly. "what did you think of our session?"

it finally struck him. he didn't remember. no matter how much he tried to think back to the session that had apparently just happened, he came up with absolutely nothing.

this had never happened before. he had never even come close to this level of amnesia. normally, it felt like a conscious effort for him to forget or not think about something. but at this moment, it was like it just wasn't there.

how did they do it? how was this even possible? his mind grasped for any possible explanation - maybe this was memory loss from something else, maybe they drugged him, maybe he had some sort of mental illness or brain damage that caused this - but he knew that none of that was true. the only thing he was sure of was that he had been hypnotized, and he had probably intentionally been allowed to know that much so that he wouldn't panic about it.

"what's wrong? you don't have any thoughts or comments on it?"

he could at least tell that the memory play was intentional, from the way they had asked that question. they expected him to react this way.

"of course i wouldn't have anything to say about it," he finally responded. "i'm not supposed to, am i?"

they smiled. "that's a very interesting way of putting it."

they seemed to be studying him, actively observing his reactions. they might not have known for sure that he had actually forgotten all of it. he wasn't sure why he didn't just tell them. was it his own stubbornness, or had it been suggested to him? it could have been a situation where he would eventually be forced to admit he couldn't remember.

but he might have been overthinking it. this could have just been a little test, to see if it would work, to see if he would forget, and how he would feel about it and react to it. that would make the most sense if they were doing this for the first time.

then again, if he was capable of forgetting that last session, who's to say they hadn't done this before, and just made him forget that, too? it was possible this wasn't the first time.

"how do you feel?" they asked again.

this time, he considered the question for a moment. "curious, i guess."

"is that so?"

they were about to do something. they were leading up to something. he could tell, somehow. something about the way they looked at him, or maybe the amount of time that had passed since they had woken him up.

of course, this anticipation didn't help him, when he didn't know what exactly to expect.

"you seem a little bit out of it, still. can you do something for me?"

"what is it?" his heart pounded.

"can you count your fingers?"

could he? he looked down to his hands silently, the idea that he might not be able to perform this simple task hanging over him. how was he supposed to even know? if they had changed something about the way he counted, he would have no way of realizing if he was wrong on his own.

his eyes darted around the room, looking for anything that might have numbers on it. or, he could use his phone --

his hand grasped at his empty pocket.

"what's wrong? surely you don't have to look up the answer."

"just- just a minute."

he was supposed to have ten fingers. he knew that. he counted them in his head.

he ended up with eleven.

it must have just been nerves. he tried it again, silently, wiggling each finger as he got to it. eleven again. and again, and again.

which number was he skipping? why was it so hard to tell?

he started bending each finger one at a time again, but instead of counting, he was thinking of multiplication. there was that trick for multiplying by nine. the numbers on both sides were also supposed to add up to nine.

this was actually more confusing for him. the more he tried to make sense of it, the more meaningless the numbers became.

"do you need me to count them for you?"

heat rushed through his face. "give me- give me a minute."

he scrambled to make any mental connections he could, to find out what had been changed. he counted backwards, but there was one finger left over. he tried envisioning the symbols of each number instead of the sounds - this didn't help.

but he knew how to count to ten in a couple of other languages, didn't he? and that was more a memorization of the sounds, and not the meaning.

his face still bright red, he finally counted out loud to them, in spanish.

they laughed, in genuine surprise. "well, i guess that is correct."

it was almost as embarrassing as if he had just counted incorrectly in english, but it was the best he could do.

"may i ask something else?"

"what is it...?"

"do you know my name?"

he blinked.

actually, more than that, his own name wasn't even coming to him. he couldn't think of either of them. not even a hint. not the letters they started with, whether they were long or short, nothing. thinking of other languages couldn't help him with this, either.

"you're taking a bit too long to answer, don't you think?"

"it's- it's just a weird question to ask someone who's known you for years," he said, as if it wasn't already blatantly obvious that he was just responding to hypnotic suggestions they had given him.

"but doesn't it feel good to say my name?" they asked. "don't you want to say it?"

it slipped out of his mouth, without his recognition. he had already forgotten it, even after hearing it in his own voice. maybe what he said hadn't even been their name at all, but some sort of title or honorific.

"you see? you do know it, don't you?"

a wave of arousal came over him, and he wasn't sure if it was from whatever he had said, or the odd sensation of saying something without even understanding what it was, or both.

"give me your hands."

he did so unthinkingly, not even beginning to guess what they might do next.

they stroked each finger, one at a time, slowly and deliberately. he had the feeling that this was doing something to him, but the effect wasn't immediately obvious.

"you did such a good job counting earlier," they murmured.

that's what it was. he stared at his hands, each finger they had stroked taking away a number. he tried to cling to the next one, to keep it in his head as their finger hovered over it. but as soon as they touched it, it was gone. it was mystifying.

it was arousing.

they stopped at the last finger. "can you count again for me, in english this time?"

"one..." he whispered.

"just one?"

the rest of his fingers were just fingers. just one, and another one, and another one.

they touched it. "can you start over again?"

there was nothing. the numbers were gone. he looked at their fingers, long, delicate. would he forget more, with every caress?

there was a flash of understanding, or a feeling of understanding. if their touch made him forget, then the desire to be touched and the desire to forget were the same. he wasn't sure how much sense that really would have made if he had said it out loud, but it felt right in his head.

their hands snaked up his arms. he was losing something. he wanted something. he wanted to lose something?

rubbing his shoulders. he was relaxed. it felt nice.

they were asking something, and he was responding. it took him a moment to realize that he hadn't registered the question at all. his body pulsed.

a finger ran down the back of his neck. cooing. murmuring. the tone was soothing.

words. touches. throbbing. something was happening. something good. good. good...

that was the only thing he could think.