I am walking in downtown New York.
I know exactly where I am. I am visiting a dear friend. We are spending a few days together; she has set up a little picnic in one of NYC’s enormous parks. It is a bright Fall day, still tepid and warm out despite the season. We are getting an early start to get set up; she is talking to me about who I will meet at the gathering. Friends of hers that she is sure I will like.
On our way, I see a few cats hanging on apartment steps, lounging in the sun. I am a little surprised that they are so relaxed and allowed to be outside, but I will never argue with seeing more cats in my life.
As we walk, I see one apartment that has a small garden in gravel behind the sidewalk, with a few plants. There is a cat rolling around in the foliage and dirt.
I do another take.
The cat has a snake wrapped around its body. It is struggling.
“I’ll catch up,” I tell my friend.
I walk over to the scene. Both the snake and cat lift their heads to look at me, uncharacteristically human-like glances.
The cat is a gray-white tabby. The snake is green, coils obscuring the tabby stripes, and head just a bit larger than I’d expect with big, piercing golden eyes.
“Shoo,” I say, a bit lamely, and then try to make myself look threatening.
The snake uncoils itself, spooked for a moment, but before slithering away, it looks at me, and somehow, it looks annoyed.
The cat rights itself and licks its paw. I pet it, and easily pick it up; so tolerant. I place it on the steps.
“It’s dangerous out here,” I tell it. “Your owners probably should take you inside.”
The cat does not respond.
I see my friend just a ways up ahead, waiting for me and with a couple more people now, probably a few of her friends.
I look back and see the cat sitting on the stoop, and my eyes find the snake who is now hiding in a bush, still looking annoyed with me.
Cautiously, I turn my back and go to catch up.
I try to shake the feeling of being followed.
The picnic is very pleasant. There is delicious food and some community events in the park, and soon our small group becomes large and mingled with other people from the neighborhood. I am having a good time socializing. My friend is flitting in and out, periodically going back to her apartment to get more food or cups.
A man I haven’t seen before walks up and starts chatting with the people in our little corner. He is laughing, and he has a sharp smile. I idly watch him for a moment, and then he looks over at me, and smirks.
His eyes are that same golden piercing color as the snake from before.
I am suddenly very, very scared. A small snake, however angry it was at me for saving its prey, did not feel very threatening to me.
But a snake that can transform into a person, a snake that made it a point to stalk me and now make fast friends with our little picnic…
He walks over, smiling wickedly.
“Hello,” he says. “Have we met before?”
“Um,” I say, nervous, averting my eyes. “I don’t think so?”
My heart is pounding in my chest. Everyone will think I’m crazy if I call him out for what he is. But am I in danger? Did he come to get revenge on me somehow?
“Well it’s sssso nice to meet you,” he says, and it is pure malicious, the way he drags the ‘s’ out, and then I realize that something is terribly, terribly not in my favor.
I am scared, but I am horribly, horribly turned on; his sibilance, his eyes – this is too close to secret, early fantasies, the ones that make me break down, the ones I can’t resist.
“Look,” he says, more quietly.
I look up at him.
He is triumphant, and I have no doubt in my mind that he knows the way my body is responding to him.
And for a moment, I meet his eyes, and I notice them beginning to swirl with color.
I gasp and look away as he laughs.
“Doesn’t it look good though,” he whispers as I stare at the ground. I stiffen; he chuckles and walks away, finally.
It is abundantly clear to me what is happening in this situation.
He followed me here to get back at me for taking away his dinner. He knows what I want most of all. He is going to use my desires to lure me into becoming docile so he can…
Well, I don’t know what he is going to do. Hurt me? Eat me, maybe…
…That seems most plausible.
Everyone at the picnic seems enamored by him. He is charming and charismatic, and I just try not to look at him, try to lay low.
But soon, I hear him call above the gentle hum of laughter and conversation.
“Anyone want to try something fun?”
People gather and giggle and ask what it is.
He grins. “I can hypnotize some of you, do some party tricks. It feels really good, I promise.”
My heart sinks as the crowd ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s and talks excitedly.
I can’t say anything. I can’t do anything. I stand there shocked, staring at him.
He looks directly at me.
“Any volunteers?” he asks.
A few girls titter and blush, but he doesn’t stop looking at me.
“What about you?” he says, smiling coldly. “You look like you could relax a little…”
Again, hissing the word.
The people I’ve met are egging me on, telling me to do it as he pierces me with that gaze, and I can’t help but think about how it would feel to stare into his spiraling eyes and lose myself, despite the danger, how turned on I am…
I mumble excuses, decline as much as I can.
“Alright,” he says. “Want to see me do it on someone else first? That’s fine.”
A girl from the crowd steps up, shyly.
He looks at her, pleased, and shoots me one last glance that says, ‘Watch this, if you dare.’
He is standing just a few feet away from her now, and he doesn’t stop grinning as she fixes his gaze on him.
“Just look into my eyes,” he says.
The crowd hushes.
The trap is too good – do I break the social norm and look away, save myself from the temptation and eroticism, or do I give in and watch, see how he does it, feel my desire climb?
His eyes are spiraling and my pussy clenches as I see the colors blossom over and over from his pupils. My eyes dart to her, and that was a mistake – her jaw is loosening, her mouth beginning to soften into a little ‘o’, eyes widening and reflecting the colors in his eyes, and then she gives a sigh… Her mouth turns up into a pleased, soft smile…
I can’t. I can’t watch this anymore. I’m gasping for breath. I squeeze my hands into fists, trying desperately to keep composure.
I hear him wake her up, and the group begins laughing and making comments. Again I’m reminded, as I’ve always been reminded in my life, of how different the general social response to hypnosis is. No one is crippled like I am. To them, it’s a fun game.
He looks at me, and I feel raw, intense desire and shame.
He smiles and it is so cruel.
“It felt good, right?” he asks the woman.
“Yeah,” she said, “really good.”
“Really good?” he says, teasing, making a scene of it.
She laughs. “Yes, really good!”
“Yeah, when I hypnotize people, they’re like, ‘ohhhhh, it feels so good…’” He moans openly and the crowd welcomes the bawdy tone, laughing and encouraging.
I watch in horror as he imitates her face, eyes swirling with that smile, and then distorts it, makes it almost cartoonish as he smiles wider, rolls his eyes up, opens his mouth, lets his tongue loll…
He goes through a few more expressions, all pornographic depictions of someone in deep trance, and I feel myself yearning for it, as though he’s showing me what I might look like, how good I would feel if I just gave in.
The crowd is howling.
I am shrinking into myself in a corner. My pussy is throbbing, needing. I have never been this turned on in public before. I can’t move. I’m doubled over with how badly I want this.
He leaves the group for a moment and walks towards me, and I give a little whimper; in such a short time, my body and brain have strongly, deeply associated him as the object of all of my desires.
“Looks good, right? Don’t you want it?” His voice is dripping with victory, sexual and cold.
I can’t even breathe.