The Scientific Effect of Hypnosis on Young Girls
Chapter 1
By Sacrip
“Hey, you mind if I go outside a minute? I, uh, just need some air.” Clara fidgeted with her hair as she stood up from the couch and grabbed her purse. Rob reached over to the remote control on the coffee table and paused the DVD they had been watching. Glancing at the screen, Clara realized she didn’t know what was going on in the movie, even though she liked it so far and had been paying attention. She shrugged it off, figuring she had dozed off at some point.
“Um, yeah, I guess it’s OK. Let me get our coats and we’ll...”
“No, Rob, no. I mean, I’ll just be a minute. I don’t need my coat, so you just stay there and tell me what I missed and...”
“NO, WAIT!” Clara jumped back, startled at Rob’s outburst. “Um, sorry about that, I just, uh...are you smoking?”
Clara sighed and looked down, admitting defeat. “I’ve tried to quit, but I just can’t. I do OK for a while, then something always comes up. There’s a project at the office past deadline, my father’s sick, my sink has a leak I can’t fix..it’s just too much, you know? At least if I get cancer everything else will seem easier by comparison.”
“Yeah, I get you. Hey, this is our fourth date, right? I’m supposed to be emotionally accessible and stuff now. I read it in Cosmo.” Clara laughed, and Rob fidgeted now. “So, have you tried hypnosis? I hear it can help.”
“Um, no, I haven’t.”
“Think it won’t work? That you can’t be hypnotized?”
“No, I know I can. In college once, there was a show and I was in it. I was really under, but I couldn’t really ‘get’ how to feel, how to imagine what he described. So he takes me aside and says, ‘Never mind your feelings now. You’re in a trance, so you have to do what I say. You can’t help yourself, you’ll do whatever you’re told. You’re going to be a good little girl and obey me.”
“And that...”
“Worked? Yeah. From then on, I was helpless. Everything he said, I jumped to do, whether I wanted to or not. So I was the star of the show, you know? They put me in a blue gingham dress and I sang ‘Over the Rainbow’ just like in the Wizard of Oz. And at the end of the show he snapped his fingers and I skipped down the aisle in the dress singing ‘We’re off to see the wizard’ as loud as I could. A crowd of people followed me out the door as I skipped into the parking lot, still singing. The hypnotist finally had to come out and stop me, mostly to get the dress back, I think. And every skip, every word I sang, I thought ‘God I’m so embarrassed, I want to stop!’ But I couldn’t. I cried even as I smiled and skipped and sang.”
“Well, that’s, uh, something,” Rob said after a pause. “You must have been the talk of the college after that, huh?”
“Actually, no. The day after the show, some girl did cartwheels across campus in just her panties and a pair of red shoes. Kept saying the shoes made her do it. I couldn’t top that one, so everybody kinda forgot about what I did. Still, I get shivers thinking about it. How different I was, how obedient. I’m not wishy-washy, Rob. I’m no simpering girly girl with daddy issues who needs to please an older man to feel secure. Not then, not now. And yet...”
“And yet...” Rob said when she didn’t continue.
“I loved it. Every trick, every dance, every little thing he made me do on stage, I loved it. No matter how humiliating, how embarrassing it got, I was like a little girl going, ‘More, more!’ My whole body was tense, eager for him to tell me to do something so I could show him how well I could do it. He even asked me during the show what I’d like us all to do, and I said, ‘Make me think everybody’s a hypnotist, and I have to do everything everyone says.”
“Wow.”
“A bunch of unimaginative freshmen and sophomores who were put through their paces the last 20 minutes given the keys to the car? Yeah, it was bad. I was a chicken, dog, kangaroo, every funny animal you can think of. I was three years old, a ballerina, a three year old ballerina who needed a spanking when she missed a step and gave the spanker a big kiss to thank him afterwards. And all of this with Tourette’s syndrome, too. The only reason I didn’t end up naked was that there was an administrator in the audience.”
“And after all that...”
“I still loved it. Oh, I knew it was humiliating, that I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But I couldn’t get enough. I wanted it to go on and on. At the end, with the skipping into the parking lot like Dorothy, I was crying partially cause it was over. And even though he told me to stop when I got to the door...well, I’m pretty sure he did, anyways...I wanted it to go on, to be the little girl who did what she was told.”
“But you said before...”
“Yeah, I know what I said. And I meant it. I hated it. And I loved it. All at once. Every day I think about it. Then I cry, finger myself, cry again, and finger myself again if I have time. I’m fucked up, Rob. I’m a fucked up exhibitionist schizophrenic girl with a big cardboard cutout of what’s supposed to be my temple of self esteem. And that’s why I won’t use hypnosis to stop smoking. God, I need a cigarette. Be right back.”
“Clara, don’t go out there.”
“Why, you gonna convince me it’s all right, that I have nothing to be afraid of, that I’m hiding from my fears and not facing them?”
“Well, I hope so. But mostly, I need you to stay inside cause you’re naked.”
Clara screeched and hugged herself with her arms, scurrying around to the other side of the couch and sitting on the carpet, knees up and arms locked around her legs. She shivered there while Rob stood up slowly and walked around to where she was. By the time he was standing over her, Clara had stopped shivering and was looking at herself. “Hey, I’m not naked. What did you say that for?”
“Well, the fact that you believed me at first illustrates a point I have to make. Besides, what you actually are wearing is something I don’t want the neighbors to see.”
Clara stood up and looked down at herself to discover Rob had a legitimate point: Instead of the blue jeans and sweater she remembered putting on this morning, she was now wearing a pink French maid’s outfit, complete with lacy headdress, white fishnet thigh high stockings, three inch white pump heels and heavily starched petticoats lifting up her already too short skirt which made her scramble to put her hands down to push down the skirt, which led her to discover she was, in fact, not wearing any panties.
“H...How? Why? What?” Clara said, sputtering more than speaking.
“You forgot who, when and where. The who is you. Or maybe the owner of the costume shop where we got the dress, I dunno. The when is earlier this afternoon, after lunch. And the where, depending on your definition of...”
“WHY THE FUCK AM I WEARING THIS?!”
“All right all right all right. After lunch we went for a long drive, remember? And you got drowsy, but still chatted with me. And I mentioned how you said you’d pay the check cause I loaned you cab fare the other night, but you forgot your wallet so I paid and you said sorry and how can I make it up to you, and I said you could clean my apartment cause it really needed it, and you said OK but no French maid outfits, and I was really kidding when I said this part but I said ‘You are getting sleepy, sleeeeeepy’ really cheesy like and you went all like ‘Yeeesss maaaasteeeer’ and you smiled so I figured you were kidding and I said...”
“OK, OK. I get it. I’m not sure I believe it, but I get it. How could you do that to me, Rob?”
“I don’t think I did. At least, I don’t think I did without you helping me.”
“Huh? What do you mean I...”
“Hush.” Rob said. Clara fell silent, obviously wanting to speak but unwilling, or unable, to do so. After a moment, Rob continued. “Look, I don’t know your whole life story, and I wasn’t there at this show, but I think this has been coming a long time. Taking on more and more responsibility at work on your own time, running back and forth to tend your hypochondriac father...yes, yes he is, and you know it. Volunteering at a homeless shelter when I know damn well you hate it but your church’s minister asked you to. And all of this alongside going out on dates with loser guys your brother feels sorry for and sets you up and you wait till they get tired of not even getting a goodnight kiss and dumping you cause you can’t bring yourself to do it yourself.”
“Rob, I....I’m sorry, Rob.”
“I knew something was up when you agreed to watch the five hour Watchmen motion comic with me. No girl in history has done that without being tied down, you know. All your life, Clara, you’ve wanted to be the good girl, to do what you’re told. But it’s not so good when whoever’s telling you what to do doesn’t even appreciate it, can’t see how good you’re being. So you wait for the right reason, the right excuse. The loyalty of the employee. The duty of the churchgoer. The obligation of the sibling. And the scientific effect of hypnosis on young pretty girls.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m no expert in trance induction or altered states of consciousness. I know about as much as a wikipedia page can tell you in 10 minutes or so. But I know now that I don’t have to be. Not with you. Inside you’re begging, pleading me to put you under, to hypnotize you. To take every part of you and play with it like a new toy. To let you show me how good a girl you are. All I have to do is say the magic words, and you’re mine. Cause you gave me the power, and didn’t even know it.”
“Rob, this is...I can’t...”
“Clara, let me put your mind at ease. That wiki page was very thorough, and I know the truth. Hypnosis is real. It’s a powerful, irresistable force that makes you its slave. Especially to weak willed young girls. And once you’re successfully put under, the lock on your mind is forever unlatched, and the right man can walk in and take over the house. I see you trembling. You know it’s true. Maybe the hypnotist told you it was all over, that his triggers wouldn’t work again. But they will. You kept the porch light on, placed the key on the welcome mat, and tied in a pretty pink ribbon. What did he do, Clara? Snap his fingers, say a trigger word, whistle? You will tell me what makes you sleep in three seconds.”
“N..no, please...” Clara whispered, a tear running down her cheek.
“One.”
“I don’t...I can’t...please...”
“Two.”
“Not again, please sir...”
“THREE!”
“SNAP YOUR FINGERS TWICE AND SAY SLEEP’!” she blurted out, bringing her hands to her face as she sobbed. Rob slowly lifted his right hand, trembling slightly as he placed his thumb and forefinger together, hoping they weren’t too sweaty to make a good snapping sound, resulting in the slap across the face he’d been expecting the last few hours since she put on the maid’s dress in a daze. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it, he thought to himself. Browbeating a girl with self esteem issues into being your sex slave isn’t exactly gentlemanly behavior, after all.
“So, um...say, why don’t you get yourself changed and cleaned up, and we’ll order a pizza, and I’ll pop in the Sex and the City movie.” When Clara looked up at him in bewilderment he quickly added, “Um, it was a gift.”
“Actually, I think I’m just gonna get changed and go home. Long day, you know. Oh, and could you promise not to call me ever again? I think it’s just too weird now, OK?”
“Um, yeah, I guess...”
“Boy, you must think I’m a piece of work, huh? I’ll have to check my blood sugar level this week. Just not myself lately. Here I was thinking you really COULD hypnotize me. As if. I mean, that guy back at college was really hot, and you’re a nice guy and all, but...”
Rob snapped his fingers twice sharply and said “Sleep.” Clara promptly closed her eyes and went limp into Rob’s arms. He moved her over to the couch and laid her down, where he discovered that she was not, in fact, wearing panties.