Hypnosis in the News

Rarely in the news business does the journalist become the interviewee but in this case, to crack the case, I had to defy convention and become part of the story myself. It was weird having one of my colleagues interview me on air about what had happened, but what was weirder was suddenly fielding calls from national news outlets wanting me to tell my story, in person. You see, this story had legs and it ran internationally, once I broke it that is.

Let me back up a bit. Three months ago there was an odd burglary at a convenience store in the north end of town. The area is a bit run-down and occupied by a large immigrant population – Asians, Hispanics, Sikhs... The robbery took place at around 11 pm, best police could figure. What was most odd about the robbery was the victim's purported story. According to him, a man entered the store, hypnotized him and then robbed him!

Of course, the police, the media and the public were skeptical to the point where many were pointing the finger at the store clerk, 22 year old Sanji Rafhn. Some digging revealed that he had a couple of priors including one petty theft charge, but my program manager sent me out to speak with him anyway. I figured if I had to interview this fraudster, I'd try and get him to admit that the whole “I was hypnotized” defense was pure B.S., to the point where it was laughable. In fact, as I left the office, a couple of my colleagues teased me, following me to the elevator with their arms out-stretched, like zombies! We all had a good laugh about it; in fact, I was still chuckling throughout most of the elevator ride down to the car-park level.

I met Sanji at a cafe that was basically half way between where he was living and our studio. What struck me immediately was how clean-cut and innocent the young man seemed. Not at all what I was expecting. His voice too was very soft and after speaking to him for half an hour I was convinced he believed what he was saying. His story, incredulous as it was, was that this mysterious man, he couldn't see his face, came into the all-night convenience store, showed him this crystal pendant and kept talking to him. Sanji admitted that he was tired to begin with, but before he knew what was happening, he blacked out. His next memory was of being awoken by a police officer. And, according to the police officer, Sanji was almost catatonic, standing like a statue at rigid attention, a blank stare and most oddly of all, his shoes and socks missing!

When I spoke to the detective assigned to the case and asked him about that, what had happened to Sanji's shoes and socks, he was baffled himself. He told me that the premises were thoroughly checked, including outside and out back; they had even gone through the dumpster and couldn't find them.

I asked Sanji about it.

“So what's the deal with the shoes and socks? Why do you think the burglar would take them?”

Sanji had already told police that he clearly remembered coming to work with shoes and socks on and had no recollection of taking either of them off.

-“I don't remember. I really don't. When that cop woke me up and I looked down and saw my toes, I was in shock... I...It was like, it didn't make sense. Why would I take my shoes and socks off at work? And then, when I started looking for them and realized they were nowhere to be found, I figured that hypnotist musta taken them when he had me under his spell!”

Under his spell? Pahlease! What was this, a Grimm Fairy Tale?

Still, as surreal as Sanji's story seemed to me, a part of me believed that he believed what he was saying. And I mean the whole shoe and sock thing... why do it? If Sanji did stage the whole thing did he really need to what... hide his shoes and socks to prove he was actually hypnotized? I smelled a mystery in the air and I was looking forward to sniffing it out.

We got enough footage (no pun intended) of Sanji and Detective Peters so that I had my two and a half minute report ready for the six o'clock news. And let me just say, even though I believed Sanji at that point, I had to report objectively, and the tone I decided to use was one I knew would be reflected in my audience – disbelief, skepticism, almost jocular questioning of his story which did seem a bit pubescent in design.

Not surprisingly, I got a pretty nasty voice-mail from Sanji that evening and I chose not to respond. He had every right to be angry with my report, I give him that. The truth is, even though I believed him, there was no evidence to support the fact that Sanji was hypnotized, save perhaps the absence of his shoes and socks. He could have technically planned and staged the whole thing, and that was certainly one angle the cops were looking into. It was actually what most people figured happened.

Like most news stories, that one had pretty much faded into oblivion until about two weeks later, another convenience store in the north-end was held up with the identical M.O. This time it was an African American store clerk, also early-20's and wouldn't you know it? His shoes and socks were also missing from the scene of the 'hypno-crime!'

I was on this story like glue on paper. My curiosity driving much of that enthusiasm, but I still remember driving to that second store on that rainy day, intent on getting to the bottom of this nonsense.

I got all the necessary information from the store owner who was there working with his son and went on my way to find Tyrell Evans, the night-clerk on whom the burglary and the hypnosis were supposedly perpetrated. One phone call later and we were getting together, at his place, which wasn't too far from the store.

Tyrell Evans, age 21, high school drop-out, a couple of juvies behind him, was working this night job for a little more than two weeks. At six foot six, and easily pushing 300 pounds, he seemed like the last person one would target for a robbery. And yet...

Tyrell had a difficult time admitting to what happened, a combination of ego and testosterone most likely, I thought to myself. But his discomfort was genuine, even I could sense that. He was nervous, fidgety and in a state that bordered on shock mixed with disbelief.

-“I... I don't know how that muthafucka did it... I mean like, one minute I'm looking at this crystal he's dangling in fron-a me and next... I'm being woken up by a customer who says I looked like some kind of zombie. And then I realize my shoes and socks are gone, not to mention all the money in the cash! What up with that?! Those were 300$ ____ sneakers bro'!”

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Perhaps Sanji was also wearing a particularly expensive brand of sneaker and maybe that was the motivation for taking these guys' shoes? But if that were the case then why take their socks too? Maybe the crook had a foot fetish? Hmmm? That would be an interesting slant – the hypnotist robber with the foot fetish... Headline at 11.

Tyrell was adamant that he never thought he could be hypnotized, had never been hypnotized before and felt really weak having succumbed to such silly hocus-pocus. I felt for the guy. I had never been hypnotized before either, and if I suddenly came to and realized I was missing articles of clothing and that I had been robbed, I'd also be kind of freaked out. More than 'kind of' actually.

So both guys were either superb actors, or victims of some new kind of crime – the hypno-burglary. Either way, I had a second report to get out and the clock was ticking.

This time, I was a bit more balanced in my reporting; something was clearly afoot (pardon the pun) and with Tyrell's corroborated story, Sanji's became all the more credible, if not a little bit more plausible.

A couple of days later, I was planning on doing a follow-up report, when I received a phone call from Detective Peters. His urgent tone took him right to the point:

-“I assume you wanted to know... it happened again. Half an hour ago at the Bistro Cafe on Wellington.”

I was off the phone with him and out the door of my studio with a camera guy in less than five minutes! I wanted this exclusive!

I had him shooting the moment we got out of the van. When we entered the tiny food take-away establishment, we found Mr. Fong, the owner, a man in his late forties, sitting at the counter, rubbing his eyes as if just waking up. He too was in his bare feet!

The two cops there were checking out the establishment as Detective Peters walked in.

-“You beat me here! Hope you didn't blow any red lights!” He smiled and I signaled Earl, the camera guy to cut.

Detective Peters immediately went up to Lee Fong and began his questioning. I had to wait. So I helped myself to some almond cookies that were sitting on the counter, near the opened cash drawer, which was obviously, empty.

I was in earshot of the questioning though and was clearly able to make out Mr. Fong, exasperatedly exclaim, “He hypnotize me! He hypnotize me! ...And he made me take off my shoes and socks and give them to him. And... and... he do something to my feet!”

Mr. Fong examined each of his soles but could see nothing to point to as evidence. As he put his left leg on his right knee to examine his left sole though, I noticed it... the bottom of his foot looked... shiny, as if Mr. Fong had rubbed oil on it or something. I found it odd that Mr. Fong didn't see it himself and put it on my mental list of questions for him later.

Detective Peters finished his interrogation and walked right up to me.

-“Listen, Drew, we like the way you've maintained balanced reporting on this story, but with this third case, things are liable to get a bit... frenzied.”

I agreed to keep a balanced approach. After all, I really had no idea what this was all about. I then sat down next to Mr. Fong, who despite repeated requests, refused to go on camera admitting to any of this. He was too embarrassed and didn't want his family to find out, much less the whole world. I could understand where he was coming from. And I agreed to keep him off camera in exchange for him giving me some insight into the actual burglary experience.

-“He show me some kinda crystal, he spin in my face, and I sleep! I could not control myself! I have to do everything he tell me!”

-“And do you remember anything else Mr. Fong? Anything? Like I heard you mention to Detective Peters that you thought the hypno-burglar did something to your feet?” (I had used the phrase hypno-burglar in both of my last pieces and the nomenclature was picked up by all other media outlets, not to mention, the public at large).

We both looked down at his still bare feet. He wiggled his toes nervously.

-“I think... I think he did something... I... I don't remember!” Mr. Fong seemed to be on the cusp of remembering, but perhaps not wanting to.

-“Can I see the soles of your feet Mr. Fong?” I asked as casually as I could. I never asked to see anyone's soles before and I felt a bit silly for asking.

He leaned back on the stool he was sitting on and lifted both my way simultaneously. As I had seen earlier, his left sole seemed shinier than the right. I pointed it out to him and he proceeded to examine his sole himself.

-“I... I think he make sex on my foot! And... and rub it in!”

I almost gagged. But could it be? Was my original thought about this hypnotist burglar having a thing for guy's bare feet, for real? It almost read like something off of some erotic story website, and I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it all.

I mean, first of all, I always thought you had to want to be hypnotized to be hypnotized, right? And that you couldn't be made to do stuff while under hypnosis that you wouldn't otherwise, right? But this story just blew that lid off of that thinking and was calling into question a bunch of these previously held beliefs I had.

Mr. Fong started to weep. I grabbed him by the shoulder and squeezed. I stood, took out my blackberry and called Detective Peters. Even though he had just left, I got his voicemail.

-“Detective Peters. I think you should have a psychologist meet with Mr. Fong ASAP. His memory might be jarred if you can get him to agree to go under again. Just a thought if you haven't thought of it already. There's no way this guy had anything to do with this burglary.”

I left back to the station, (the television station) to work on the final editing of my piece. Graphics put together a whole spiral gizmo to open and close the story, and because I promised Mr. Fong total anonymity, I had to ixnay the footage of the restaurant and the latest victim. I thus became the primary focus of the piece, which I hate when that happens, but what can you do, sometimes, that's the way it goes.

A few days later I got a phone call from Detective Peters. He wanted to thank me for the suggestion I had made and wanted to tell me that Mr. Fong and his oldest son were coming down to the station to meet with a psychologist trained in hypnosis. Mr. Fong had agreed to undergo hypnosis, to help restore his memory but also to help the police catch the 'hypno-burglar.'

The session was scheduled to take place that afternoon and Detective Peters thought I might like to be there, providing there was no camera crew present. Of course I agreed. What kind of a journalist would I be if I wasn't in attendance? Besides, it's not often that you get invited to the police station to take part in an active criminal investigation.

Mr. Fong's son Jimmy, Detective Peters, two other officers and myself were sitting in a closed room on the viewing side of a two way mirror. On the other side Mr. Fong was being hypnotized by the police assigned hypnotist, I think his name was Kevin O'Neil. The following is the exact transcript gleaned from Mr. Fong's hypnosis session, and for the record, after recalling it all, the psychologist gave Mr. Fong the choice of whether he wanted to fully remember this experience while awake, and he instantly said NO.

I should tell you... I was sitting next to Jimmy Fong as he listened to his father's horrific account of his total violation. I felt for the kid, who couldn't be more than 25. Seeing or in this case, hearing of one's father in such a compromised and vulnerable position, must be difficult. In Jimmy's case, he was fidgeting so much, it was making me nervous. Still, I couldn't blame him.

Ok, here is the transcript, in complete detail:

Now, Lee, you are staring at the crystal the burglar is showing you...

Yes, I cannot look away.

It's hypnotizing you?

Yes, and he is speaking...

Tell me what he is saying... word for word if you can...

You have no will... you are my slave... you must obey your master... deeper and deeper... your eyes are mesmerized... you mind is asleep... deeper and deeper... completely in my power, your will is mine...

Lee pauses; licks his lips.

What happens next Lee? Think... you can see it very clearly now.

He commands me to take off my shoes and give them to him. I must obey. He makes me call him master and tells me to take off my socks. I obey again. I... I have no choice.

It's ok, Lee, I want you to relax as you recall what happens next. You are safe; you are just remembering... ok?

Yes. Ok. He... he made me put my feet up on table... unzipped his fly and rubbed his penis on my left foot until he have sex all over me. He then use his penis to rub his baby-juice into my foot. He keep telling me to forget, to forget... He then have me stand up, make my body stiff and hard, stiff and hard... even my penis get hard! I can't control it. I... I...

Relax Lee... just relax and go deeper... I'm going to give you a choice...

End of transcript

-“I'll kill that motherfucker!” Jimmy exclaimed, partially humiliated by his father's recall of the event.

-“Shh! Jimmy, your dad just decided he did not want to remember this. That means that you're going to have to keep this under wraps, for now.” I instructed the upset lad. I was technically doing Detective Peter's job at that point, so I gave him a nod and acknowledged the overstep apologetically. The last thing I needed was to lose him as my police contact. So far so good, why rock the boat?

It was a week later when Detective Peters found another victim, this time in full hypnosis. It happened at three AM and he decided not to call me, but he did take a video of him and his team entering the premises. Someone had found the young man, couldn't wake him up, saw that he was barefoot, and called police.

When I watched the video the next day I was completely stunned. In fact, I felt hypnotized watching that gonzo kid. According to Detective Peters, his name was Umar Aldadi, a Pakistani native whose family had only arrived in the states a few years prior. Umar was in his first year of college where he was studying business administration and economics. He was a solid B student, which wasn't bad considering he didn't speak English six years ago. He was twenty years old, dark skinned with a slight beard, super thin and about five foot eleven.

The video began with a far shot of Umar standing behind the cash of his cousin's 7-11, completely blank-faced – vacant, wide-eyed stare, mouth slightly open, nothing moving, everything frozen. The kid's body was at complete attention, you could see that even with the counter partially blocking his lower half. As the Detective moved to the behind-the-cash area and the rest of the victim's body came into focus of the video camera, the hypno-burglar's famous M.O. was clearly visible. Umar was standing there barefoot, his lower body just as stiff and rigid as his upper.

-“He looks almost catatonic!” I remarked to Detective Peters while watching the replay.

-“Shh! Watch this!” He pointed me back to the screen.

Detective Peters asked one of his men to hold the camera as he entered Umar's earshot as well as the camera's shot. He waved his hand in front of the zombified young man getting zero reaction.

-“What is your name?” Peters asked the young man, less than a few inches from his ear.


-“Umar what?”

-“Umar Aldadi... m... master.”

This response even got Detective Peters off guard. To me, it looked as though for a brief second, this kid Umar did not want to address Detective Peters as 'master.' Perhaps it was the tone the detective was using – very authoritative?

-“Did he just call me master?” Detective Peters turned toward his men and asked into the camera.

-“Yes master.” the young Arab sounded like a robot. This time there was no hesitation in his voice.

Detective Peters instantly began to shake the near-six foot tall victim, by the shoulders and then by the stomach, trying to dislodge him from his frozen stance. Eventually, his efforts paid off and Umar came to. That part of the video was also odd to watch. As Umar regained awareness he became increasingly confused; where he was, what was going on, who the people were there with him, and almost instantly, the realization that he was barefoot. Umar, unlike the previous three victims had seen and heard all about this burglar who hypnotizes men and steals their shoes and socks and once his lucidity returned, maybe a minute after waking up, that's precisely what he exclaimed, on camera:

-“Shit! I was hypnotized by that hypno-burglar I saw on the news! I didn't think it would happen to me! But obviously, he got me! Holy Cow!”

The tape cut out at that point.

The Detective smiled at me and turned the screen down.

-“I can tell you what Umar recalled under normal questioning was the same as the first two.”

-“Not much?” I guessed.


-“Would he agree to undergo hypnosis like Mr. Fong?”

-“No such luck. It's against his religion to voluntarily submit himself to be hypnotized.”

-“Ok... then we have to wait for yet another victim before we can move onward.”

-“Not really. Tyrel and Sanji both agreed to be put under; we did them the day after Mr. Fong.”

-“And?!” I was partially upset that he didn't include me in those sessions.

-“Identical stories. All three match up. All three guys remembered being violated; in all three cases the soles of their feet were used as this creep's cum-rag!”

-“Wow!” And as I said that I was trying to figure out how to weave this new factoid into my coverage – talk about a one of a kind story – men being hypnotized, foot-raped and burgled?

Detective Peters looked at me sternly. He could tell what I was thinking and I could tell he didn't like it.

-“You can't go public on the pervert stuff Drew... at least not yet! You'll send this whole city into a panic and it could trigger heavy backlash against the gay community... we need to unfurl this story to the public at a controlled pace and I'm counting on you!”

What could I say at that point? No thank you? Of course I had to agree. I knew if I didn't my amazing new police contact would be gone in a split second and I couldn't risk that happening.

“Um, did Tyrell or Sanji choose to remember what happened to them?”

-“Yes. Both of them. And we've gotten them some therapists to work with...”

-“You have no problem if I spoke with them, do you Detective?”

-“Go right ahead. Only thing is, we kept them separate. Neither knows of the other really, except through the story.”

-“So speak to them separately?”


One thing I learned early on in Journalism school is not to always listen to authority figures. I decided I'd arrange a meeting for Sanji, Tyrell and myself. What harm could come of it? If anything, in getting the two of them together, they might be able to help each other, you never know.

-“Could you make a copy of that tape?” I asked as nicely as I could.

-“If you promise not to air any of it and keep it for your eyes only Drew.”

-“Of course.” And that I did mean. On the big stuff, an agreement is an agreement. On the small stuff, the 'getting there' stuff, well, sometimes you have to compromise to get ahead or just to get to the root of the bloody story.

That weekend was a long weekend, and I was off on Monday, it being labour day. Rather than just relaxing, as I normally would, I spent much of the weekend reviewing everything I had from this case. The transcript of Fong's regression session, my photos and video, the police video of Umar, my conversations with all the victims, save Umar. I plotted out all the locations that were hit on a map and looked for a pattern. Clearly, the burglar-hypnotist preferred to work by night (though not always) and he was targeting 24-hour joints that had only one staff member present. Also, 3 out of 4 victims recalled having their left feet molested. Another interesting thing I had noticed was that each victim was of a different background – Sanji was an Indian Sikh; Tyrell, African American; Lee Fong, Korean, and Umar Aldadi, a Pakistani born Arab... I wondered if the burglar was picking his victims by race or if it was just the multi-ethnic nature of the neighborhoods he was targeting.

Turns out, there's not that many 24-hour joints in the area that the hypnotist-burglar had worked thus far. When I saw that one of those places was a 24-hour DVD rental place, the thought did occur to me. I had worked in a videostore throughout much of college and could easily get the graveyard shift there. The seed had been planted. Of course, I had to get my program director's permission to embed myself into a story like that. For the life of me though, as I played out that particular scenario in my mind I could not see myself falling victim to this kind of foolish thing. If anyone was going to stop this circus-freak hypno-burglar, it was going to be 'strong-willed-me'.

I decided I'd join the Treehouse Video Club located on 4th Ave. It was more than a drive from my place, but I figured being a member might help in any future investigation, should one occur there. A nice guy by the name of Ryan signed me up. I spoke with him a bit about the area, the patrons that come in, I asked him if he'd ever worked the night shift and he looked at me oddly.

-“You're the second guy today to ask me that! Yeah, sometimes I get stuck with the graveyard shift. Boring as hell, but I guess someone's gotta do it.”

The second time today, I thought to myself? Was it possible the first guy that asked him that question was the hypnotist-burglar, casing the joint? ...Casing him as his next potential victim/target?!

-“You guys have a video surveillance system I presume?” I asked, trying to sound as casual as I could.

-“Yup. Three cameras in total.” Ryan pointed with his pen. “Why do you care, are you planning on knocking us off?” He asked jokingly.

-“Nah. I'm just big into security. It's one of my oddball hobbies.” I didn't want to engage this young man any further. I was tempted to ask which night shift he'd be working next when he revealed to me,

-“These are due back Wednesday by 6 am. Lucky, Tuesday night I'm working graveyard!”

I took note of that and was determined to return my dvd late Tuesday night. Something about this red-head kid told me that he had somehow become the next target or victim. Of course I had no proof. It wasn't something I could take to Detective Peters or anything, just a hunch. Ryan was Caucasian, light skinned, orange wiry hair that he wore shoulder length but kept tidy and organized. He was good looking, as the others were. Even Mr. Fong, for 56, looked easily 15 years younger and was in very good shape. That was another theme I had picked up on in reviewing the pictures of the guys who were victimized – they were all good looking men in their own rights.

I watched my movie alone that Sunday night. But I really wasn't watching. In my head, a whole sequence of events was playing out. Like what if I just happened to be returning my dvd when that hypnotist was putting Ryan under? What would be the best thing to do at that point? Call Detective Peters? But our relationship hadn't advanced to the point where he had given me his home phone number to use in emergencies. I'd end up reaching his voice mail. I'd have to act myself; come to that kid Ryan's rescue and hopefully not end up dead or hypnotized myself!

I thought this all through. I used Tuesday as a sick-day with the promise that I'd have a great story ready to go for Wednesday's noon news edition. I was hoping my instincts were going to prove right. I slept most of the day so that I could do my covert night time surveillance of the video store; I arrived at around 10 PM, before Ryan had even gotten there; there were two other guys cleaning up and getting ready to leave, I figured around 11 or so.

I was right. Ryan came into the joint at around 10:40 and helped the other two with their night time shut-down procedures. He counted his cash in plain sight, obviously not worried that some stranger might walk in at any point and hold him up. The store was open after all, and the rules were you count cash in the back, outside of customer view. At 10:55 however, there were no customers in the store, so Ryan always got away with it.

The other two guys left at around 11 and I sat back and made myself comfortable. I was in my car across the street from the store, but the windows were so huge on the place I had full view of Ryan, down to his shoes, and yes he was wearing shoes I noted.

Even though I had slept most of the day, sitting in a car staring at a window is hardly titillating; I noticed myself starting to yawn a lot more frequently and decided, against my better judgment to drive a few blocks over and pick up a cup of java. Like, what are the chances that the burglar-hypnotist would arrive just as I leave?

I was gone for no more than ten minutes. When I came back and drove down the side of the street of the video store, I could no longer see Ryan. No big deal, he might have gone off to the back, or to the bathroom... but I thought just to be sure, why not return my video now and check on the kid, you know?

I parked my car and jogged over to the door. It was locked! Some 24-hour joint! I looked in the window to see if I could see Ryan anywhere in the store. I couldn't. I knocked on the glass door, several times, each time louder than the last.

No answer.

I was about to go scout around out back when suddenly, Ryan emerged. He had a kind of blank goofy look on his face, and my first instinct was to blurt out, 'Fuck, he got him.'

Ryan came up to the door, looked at me, more like looked right past me and unlocked it. I entered on his heels, literally. The kid was barefoot and he smelled like semen; actually, I couldn't tell but it was likely his foot was the source.

He sleepwalked to his post behind the cash where he stood, frozen, like the others. I bolted to the back room, hoping to come upon the burglar. What I did see was three dvd recording machines hooked up to the store's video-surveillance, all open and their dvd's removed. The back door leading to the back alley was also ajar and a cool wind blew in just as I had opened the outer door. A few papers flew to the floor and I rushed to pick them up before springing to the back door in the hopes of seeing someone out back. No luck. Whoever this hypno-burglar was, he was in and out in like ten minutes time.

I returned to the front counter where a barefoot and blank faced red-head stood, looking more like a statue with each passing second. I remembered how Detective Peters snapped Umar out of his trance and I proceeded to do the same with Ryan, calling out his name every third or fourth jerk I made to his body.

Needless to say, as Ryan came to, he freaked out and I wasn't carrying a badge to placate him. For all he knew, I was the one responsible for this and that's exactly what he thought. Before he even realized that he was barefoot, he pressed the burglar alarm; this locked all doors in the store and sent out a distress phone call to the police. They'd be there in moments.

-“Look, Ryan, I'm not the one that hypnotized you!”

-“Hypnotized? I...I wasn't hypnotized! Was I? HEY! Where are my shoes and socks!?” His voice furious, confused and alarmed.

-“I don't know Ryan. I came in and found you like this. My name is Matt Cavanaugh, of Channel 8 News? I'm actually investigating this hypno-burglar and you are it seems, his latest victim!”

By now Ryan had calmed down sufficiently to realize how rash his actions of just moments earlier were.

-“Shit, I pressed the panic button. The cops will be...”

I cut him off.

-“Don't worry about it Ryan. I've been working with Detective Peters. We'll just explain to the officers what happened here.”

-“Do you know...?” He asked me scratching his head in confusion.

-“I think I do. Do you mind if I ask you to show me the sole of your left foot?” I asked, now the second time in my life I'm asking to see some dude's sole.

-“Sure, why? Ew! What is that?!” Ryan took his right index finger and ran it down the length of his foot from toe to heel. He then put his finger up to his nose.

-“Th... this smells like...” He couldn't finish the thought.

I could, but chose not to. We'd wait for the cops to arrive, but first Ryan rushed into the bathroom.


I didn't suspect I'd be spending the night in jail. Even after Ryan and I explained what had happened, the cops on duty decided rather than call Peters at home and wake him up, better safe than sorry, hold me until the morning when he'd be able to confirm everything.

It was my first time in jail – though it really wasn't a jail. It was more of a room they were holding me in at Station 33.

By 9 am the following morning I was released but not until Detective Peters had a word with me. He entered the room I was in and offered me a job on the force, telling me I have a detective's mind. High praise coming from one, right? Then he lashed into me for interfering in police business without advising him of what I was doing. I darn near lost him as a contact, but when I explained to him how this had all just presented itself – that I was honestly returning my dvd... he bought it, but let's just say he was curious as to why I had a membership at a video store that was more than 30 miles from my home.

I had promised my station manager a story by noon and that's what she'd have. I called the video store, got Ryan's home phone number and called him. I figured I might catch him awake and sure enough I had.

He was beyond apologetic about getting me arrested and I was just as willing to brush it all off, in exchange for an interview – right now, with a camera crew. He semi-reluctantly agreed. I made the necessary phone calls to the station, got a camera guy out to Ryan's address and sped there myself.


Aside from bringing along my own camera guy, I had another surprise up my sleeve. Connie Gilderson, a long-time friend of mine and clinical psychiatrist. She had agreed to re-hypnotize Ryan and help him retrieve his ten minutes of lost memory. Now, all I had to do was convince Ryan to agree to it, preferably, on camera.

We had to work fast. It was already 10:15 when the camera guy showed up and Connie, just after. For me to have this report ready by noon's news hour I would need to be back in the studio by 11:30 latest.

I was kind of hoping he'd be there alone; unfortunately, he was there with his Irish-Catholic mother, who was already beside herself hearing about what her son had been through, there was no way she was going to allow us to re-hypnotize her son. In fact, when I suggested it, she went slightly ballistic, invoking Mother Mary and doing a whole hands in the air dray. Wow – what a presentation. I wish I had that on camera.

Ryan was helpful; he was recalling a bit more of what happened, including that scene in the back room where he helplessly handed that stranger his shoes and socks, lay down on the floor as instructed and lifted both his soles into midair. He remembered feeling a hand on his right foot and wasn't quite sure what he felt on his left. Later, when he smelled the stickiness on the sole of his left foot, he knew instinctively what had occurred. That dude had used his foot as his pussy!

Of all the guys, Ryan seemed the least put off by the revelation, in part he told me, because his best friend had recently come out to him and a few others, and Ryan was never a homophobe. Still, if there were anything that could potentially turn him into one... it was something like this.

Connie's presence wasn't all for naught. I got her on camera stating that in her professional opinion, the latest victim, “David” we're calling him, was completely authentic in his recall of the events. And that it was clear that our city had some hypnotist-burglar with a penchant for men's feet on the loose. Her 'clinical' affirmation of Ryan's story validated all the others', particularly Sanji, who I actually apologized to as I signed off.

My report aired at 12:22, and then again at 6:22 and at 10:22 pm and by morning the newspaper headlines in the city were all over this story like a plague. In fact, my voicemail box at work filled up (There were 100 calls – some media, some concerned citizens... you name it... and according to the swtichboard operators, there were dozens more that left messages with them.

The Tribune's Headline: “Hypno-Burglar Strikes Again” and the Star's Headline: “You are Getting Sleepy: Hypno-Burglar makes off with yet another pair of shoes and socks.”

I knew this coverage was going to do one of two things to our perpetrator. Either he'd cool off his activities and wait for all the heat to die down or he'd speed up his attacks, in a sociopath-like defiance, and/or a belief that he could never be caught. I had actually written up a few pages of a character profile I felt fit this burglar dude and what came through to me was, imagine how powerful this dude must feel? Being able to walk into a store, hypnotize some rather big guys, get them to willingly give him their shoes and socks and then... doing what he does must make him feel like he's conquered another guy. So he's probably walking around with a Napolean-complex. He's also quite smart and quite good at the art of hypnosis.

I had checked out a few books on the subject from my library and started to read them every night before bed, but no joke, they'd put me to sleep before I even got to finish the first chapter. They were on my to do list for the weekend. Until I got asked to anchor Saturday evening's news.

Now realize this. I had been at Channel Eight for maybe a year and a half at that point? There were a couple handful of journalist's with seniority there that would have killed to be in the anchor's chair and deserved it more than I did. I knew I was getting it because of my work on the hypno-burglar story and well, some voice in my head told me I'd better take it. So I did. What a rush.

My luck Saturday evening and the perp strikes again, only this time, in a whole different section of town – the much more affluent Southwest district. It was at another all night video-store and what was different about this burglary, aside from it taking place on the opposite end of town, was that there were two male clerks working the all-night shift and both were found, standing side-by-side, in full-zombie mode, absent not only their shoes and socks but their shirts as well.

The store's video security even captured the whole thing but all that could be seen of the hypnotist burglar was his black-trench coat covered backside. He had literally walked in off the street, checked the place out quickly, went up to the cash where the two boys were working, started dangling something in front of them and within minutes both young men were seemingly completely under! It was amazing- the camera did get several good views of both of their blanked out faces – there was no way either of those kids were acting.

Another thing that seemed different about this go-around, the perp didn't ask either of the boys for their shoes and socks; instead, he crept behind the cash-counter and disappeared completely out of view of the camera.

Finally, neither boy had any semen on their feet, however there was some sperm found on one of the shelves behind the counter. It was taken to forensics for DNA testing.

That was another thing that later Detective Peter's confirmed. The victims this time around, were kids, 16 and 17 years old. Could this knowledge have changed the burglar's MO? Also, according to what Detective Peters told me, one of the boys, the 16 year old was Harry Goldman, grand-nephew of the city's former Mayor and whose Jewish family roots in the city extended long and wide. Harry's father, Bernard Goldman was putting a lot of pressure on the Mayor to wrap this case up and Mayor McGinnis was putting the pressure on the cops. That was the only reason he invited me to attend both hypno regressions of 16-year old Harry and 17 year old Sebastien Duforge and the questioning afterward.

Once again, I was stunned at how good looking these young men that were his chosen targets. Ok, 17 year old Sebastien did have some facial acne, nothing severe, and he was thin, but also tall, blue-eyed, blonde-haired, with an almost John-Boy Walton innocence; 16 year old Harry Goldman was the exact opposite, much shorter, only about 5'7”, olive skinned, a little on the chunky side, but not fat, hairy eyebrows and chest with some stubble on his unshaven face. (And by the way, the only way I knew that Harry Goldman had a hairy chest is that it was captured on the store's video-surveillance).

The boys were hypnotized separately. Sebastien went first. Here is the transcript from his session:

Now Sebastien, you are safe and at peace; nothing can harm you. I want you to think back to several nights ago when you were working at the video-store with Harry. You were both on the graveyard shift...

Yeah... it was boring but at least Harry was there...

Very good. Now I want you to remember what happened when the man in the black trench coat came in and showed something to you and Harry... do you remember what that was?

It... it was a crystal on a silver chain...

Very good, do you see it?

Uh...yeah... it's... it's... I... I c... can't look away...

Tell me what the man is saying... can you hear his voice?

Yeah... it's weird... telling me to sleep and listen to his voice... hypnotizing me...

Think hard Sebastien... what else is the man who is hypnotizing you saying?

He keeps telling me to obey... to watch the crystal and obey...

What happens next?

I can't move. Frozen stiff. (His voice becomes strained as his body stiffens with the memory)

Does he tell you to make your body stiff?

Yes... and stiffer and stiffer... only he can move it...

Only he can move your body?

Yes. He... he's lifting one of my feet... taking off my shoe... and my sock. He's doing the same with my other foot.

So you're barefoot now?

Yes... He tells me to take off my shirt. I can move. I obey.

And what happens next Sebastien?


Nothing? Are you sure?

I just stood there. I couldn't move.

And Harry?

I was so gone I didn't even remember that Harry was standing right next to me!

Is there anything else you can remember from the time you were hypnotized?


Very well Sebastien, at the count of five you are going to wake up feeling refreshed and alert...


Ok, so there wasn't much new information – yet! For all we knew there could be a DNA match with some known criminal...

Harry's hypno-session went pretty much the same way, except that Harry's father and their Orthodox Rabbi decided to sit in with the young man. The most interesting thing to come from that was that Rabbi Mendelsohn actually went along for the ride and somehow got hypnotized himself! Other than that, Harry's memories were identical, almost word for word, to Sebastien's! Needless to say, Harry's father was beyond fumed hearing his son recount a violation to his person as such. The though of some stranger undressing his son against his will made Bernard Goldman sick and he wasn't shy about sharing that nausea with everyone, including me. Apparently, it was my job as journalist to track down the creep; he obviously was mistaking me for Clark Kent or someone of that calibre.

Going over my notes that night, I was seeing a pattern emerging. It was as if this hypno-burglar wanted 'one of each'... a blonde, a red-head, a Jew, and Arab, an African American, an Asian American, a Sikh... it was like he was creating some kind of collection of male victims by look, race and/or type.

I don't know how I did it, but I managed to get my program manager to give me permission to embed myself into this story. I started with a map of the area, pinpointing all of the hypnotist's previous targets. All of the cases occurred at night, except Mr. Fong, so I was looking for other businesses that were open all night in that area. Surprisingly there were only four others that had not been knocked off yet. And so I interviewed at two of them, and got the graveyard shift at Dano's... an all night Souvlaki/convenience store in the Greek district – I was always told I look Greek and being only 26 and looking like I could pass for 20, I was hoping might make me a qualifiable candidate for hypno-victimization. Ha! As if!

I worked there for two weeks before it happened. Though thankfully, I was smart enough to spring for hidden surveillance cameras that would capture it all just in case I was taken down like the rest. Always have a back up plan!

It happened around 2 am. I was so tired already that I was drifting asleep at the counter. There was no one in the place for over an hour now and I was bored out of my skull. This guy walks in wearing a black trench coat, with black pants, black shoes and a black baseball cap. He also has sunglasses on, which was weird, it being in the middle of the night and all...

Something in me just knew... this was the perp we were looking for. This was our friendly neighborhood hypnotist with the foot fetish. I was determined to keep my shoes and my game on.

-“Can I help you?” I asked as I closed in on him near the beverage fridge.

-“Yes. You can look at this!” His voice was odd, almost lizard like... and he procured that now legendary crystal.

I wanted to look away... I really did. I didn't want to be hypnotized. In fact, I was DETERMINED not to be hypnotized! And yet, there was something in that crystal that just held my gaze captive. I was powerless to resist, to look away, even to blink! I then became aware that I was being hypnotized and yet, even with that awareness, and my not wanting to go under... I did. Everything faded to black.

I awoke to someone shaking me; they were practically yelling in fact. It was some Indian dude. I was standing on the dirty floor in my bare feet. My shoes and socks, nowhere to be seen.

-“He got you man – the hypnotist burglar – look!” He pointed to my feet. Like all the other victims, they were bare.

I immediately called Detective Peters.

After getting off the phone with him, I hesitantly raised my left foot to see what I could already feel - it was shiny, sticky and damp!

DAMN! I rushed into the washroom to wash my foot off, nearly puking en-route. Now this was personal!

After scrubbing every inch of my foot and washing it ten times, I returned to the locked manager's office to procure the surveillance tape. It was missing! In it's place... a dvd marked, “Journalist Drew Cavanaugh... hypno-slave.”

He knew who I was! A protracted shiver ran down my spine to my toes, cold now on the linoleum floor. I had to see what this was – shit!

I popped it into the security system and hit playback.

There I was. Standing as tall and immobile as a statue, in my bare feet, staring straight into the camera, which the burglar obviously brought with him. I paused the dvd for a second, realizing... if he had time to get me to open the office and give him the surveillance tape, cum on my foot, make this recording and burn it to dvd, I was out for a lot longer than Sebastien and Harry were. A lot longer.

I couldn't believe I was looking at myself! I looked so empty of all thought... like a shell almost. And I was quite literally frozen. I looked like a piece of statuary; the pose he had me in reminded me of some superhero comic I had read as a kid – I forget which hero it was but the villain had hypnotized him and in multiple scenes he was standing by the villain's side, standing at attention, almost unnaturally so.

Then I heard that voice... that weird lizard like voice saying,

-“Say it into the camera. Tell your waking self what you now are!”

-“I am your hypnotized slave. You are my master. I hear and I obey!”

I almost gagged and I have no problem telling you, my heart skipped several beats. I never thought I'd see myself... like that... and what's worse, he had copied that same clip over and over again, me saying that fuckin' phrase. The video ended with a close up of my left foot, the tip of his dick rubbing his cum all over it.

I didn't think about it until the following day, but nearly 600 people on Youtube were treated to my embarrassment before I flagged it the next day. As I did though, I started to wonder... would this perp be bold enough to actually be putting his feats (no pun intended) on Youtube? I had to know. I typed in Hypno Burglar and got a bunch of porn film links, gay, straight and otherwise. I sorted by date and nothing matched. I tried a new search - “Hypnotized men”. The results here were ridiculously vast and so I tried narrowing with “Hypnotized men feet” and... Bingo! I couldn't believe what I was seeing! It was all there.

Obviously I checked out my video first, entitled Journalist Drew Cavanaugh hypnotized, enslaved, foot-cum bath. I watched the whole thing and actually saw the bastard cumming all over my foot. He asked me my foot size. I answered back sounding like a sleepy robot.

I next clicked on the Sebastien and Harry link and was immediately taken to the video. Though I had seen the store surveillance tape, I was now looking at things from the assailant's perspective. Fascinating. As they stood at attention, the hypnotist had each boy lift one foot. He had them repeating something as well – I turned up my volume and put on my headphones. “I am your hypnotized slave. I am your hypnotized slave...” Their voices in perfect unison repeating that same sentence over and over. The camera was set down and you could hear a zipper being undone. Then from the bottom of the screen, an erect cock and a hand – stroking only a few times before squirting all over the place. After he came, he knelt into the camera's view, facing backward of course and kissed each of their heels. The video ended after that. In the description it read, “Harry and Sebastien hypnotized, enslaved, barefoot and bare-chested with cum scene.”

I had seen enough. But I needed to see the rest. I needed to flag the rest, but thankfully, I had the good sense to think to call Detective Peters first. He could probably get a trace on the ISP or whatever. At the very least, he might be able to use these videos to crack the case.

The video with Umar was by far the most revealing --- the perp was seen with a dark beard in that one as he massaged his semen into Umar's left sole using his nose and beard. He'd stop every twenty seconds or so to grab the camera and point it upward at the blank-faced Arab, who, like Sebastien and Harry, was repeating his hypno-mantra over and over again like a skipping cd. When he was satisfied that his seed was evenly distributed I guess, he lifted Umar's foot higher and stepped out of the shot so that he could show off his artistic handiwork. Umar's left foot, covered in sticky man-ness took up the whole shot from toe to heel.

The video with Lee Fong actually included the entire induction; he must have walked into the restaurant with pendant in one hand and video camera with the other. Crazy. But, as with Harry and Sebastien, Lee Fong's submission seemed almost instant. The man went into a trance within seconds of catching glimpse of that crystal... that crystal... I was watching it swing back and forth, watching Lee Fong's eyes go increasingly blank with each passing sway... I... I had to snap myself out of it! Thankfully, I caught myself and shook it off; Lee Fong was obviously not that lucky. In his case, his left foot was actually used to masturbate the burglar; more than half the video was of Lee sitting back, blank faced while his foot was massaging the guy's dick. And Lee Fong, like all the rest of us, seemed to have no control, no awareness of what was being done to him!

There was no video of Ryan. Odd. I wondered why. Perhaps it was because the whole thing was done so quickly? I don't know. But I checked out Sanji's video, and it played essentially the same... and Tyrell's video...


Ok, so I had been hypno-burgled along with the rest of them. I felt pretty silly, not to mention utterly violated especially when I had to ask Detective Peters to bring me a size 11 anything so that I didn't have to drive home in my bare feet. I never realized one could be so easily mesmerized... taken in and have your memory wiped as well! I didn't remember a thing about taking off my shoes and socks, much less the subsequent squirt-fest.

If only it ended there though...

A couple of days later, Detective Peters calls me with some startling revelations: First, the DNA samples came back from the various scenes of the crime and their results matched up with what media forensics had also come to realize from analyzing the Youtube vids: We were dealing with multiple perpetrators which seemed odd given such a particular M.O., but that did change the whole equation.

Firstly, the semen. Three samples; three different DNA profiles all of men between the ages of 18 and 30. Secondly, the analysis performed on the Youtube videos determined that the various “hands” we see in the background, manipulating the video-camera belonged to different people. In the case of Harry and Sebastien, the hand was clearly Caucasian, with lighter whisps of hair, while in the Lee Fong video the individual's body hair was black and the thumb-shape was different; in the case of Tyrell, the hypnotist was African American.

What did this all mean? Detective Peters asked to meet me at the station and I didn't have to be asked twice. I now had a personal stake in getting to the bottom of this mystery and nothing was going to stop me.


-“Drew, we've hypnotized all the other victims unless it conflicted with their religious beliefs... you know Kevin?”

I nodded. I had watched his sessions from the other side of the mirror. Now I was going to be observed going back under.

The transcript of my session was given to me as I walked out, filling in any blanks my mind may have set up. What struck me most of what I recalled while under therapeutic hypnosis was how instantly, or almost, I went under just by looking at that crystal thing. It was like going from 0 to 120 in ten seconds, with zero being full alertness and 120 being fully hypnotized. Something else I didn't remember until re-hypnotized...? The dude sucked on my toes! No one's ever done that to me before.

My session didn't wind up being particularly helpful to Detective Peter's investigation, but I was glad to help in whatever way I could and now, I had an even clearer memory of what had happened, so no loss there. Where there was a loss was in my work output. I needed to put out some kind of story soon or risk fading into journalistic obscurity at 25.

A few days later, it was a Saturday, early in the afternoon, and my phone rang. I answered it and the next thing I knew I was driving to some address in the north end. When I got to the run-down house, I parked and walked up to the door, rang the bell, and took my shoes off. For some odd reason, I wasn't wearing socks --- in my loafers!?

I entered the house in my bare feet. Where had my socks gone? But that was the least of my worries. Standing at rigid attention in the living room were Sanji, Tyrell, Lee, Umar, Ryan, Harry and Sebastian. All seven of them appeared completely hypnotized and I wondered ever so briefly if I looked like them.

Go stand near Sanji, Drew!

I heard my voice speak but I couldn't believe what it had just said.

-“Yes master.” And my bare feet were marching me over to Sanji where I took my place. I noticed that all the guys in the line were barefoot as well.

-“Now that I have all eight of you here we can begin!”


At first I could only recall vague tidbits from that afternoon, but I know now the afternoon turned to evening and we were all there for more than ten hours, essentially, being brainwashed. At a certain point, I remember most of us coming out of it a bit because we had to make a list... a list of what? Something to do with brothers, cousins, friends... I had eight or nine names on my list including one of my colleagues at the station – Kyle Van Frier. Now why did I put him down on my list?

The next day was Sunday and when I woke up I had the strangest feeling that I had dreamed about taking part in an all-guy foot orgy! Obviously as soon as that thought came into my mind I knew something was up – it couldn't have been a dream! I was hypnotized! Yesterday at some point... I... I couldn't remember when or how it happened... just that I somehow wound up at this house... and the others were there...

If my memories of that supposed dream were any indication as to what this sick fuck had in store for us, I honestly thought about dropping the whole piece. Turning it over to Van Frier would get me some brownie points with him... Man, I actually had sex with all seven guys' feet! Me! I never even thought women's feet were sexy, I was a chest and butt man personally, but I was a man, never been with another guy before, only chicks. And there I was spilling my load some five or six times making sure everyone's feet there got covered in my spunk. If I remember correctly, I was also the recipient of the same treatment by every guy there!

I opened my email, still yawning the cobwebs off and was intrigued to see a message simply marked from “a secret admirer” to Drew Cavanaugh. I clicked on it and immediately this dark red and black spiral sprung to life on the screen before me. Before I could even think of a response, I was caught up in it, again, totally against my will. At that point, all I knew was I had to confirm receipt of the email and continue staring into the spiral until I received more instructions. Very simple.

I don't know how long I sat there before the phone jostled me out of it enough to answer. I didn't recognize the number.

-“Hello?” My voice sounded parched. Probably because I was sitting with a half-open mouth while watching that damn spiral thing.

-“It's Ryan.”

-“Ryan, how are you? What's...” I was cut off.

-“You are still hypnotized Drew... my master has instructed me to call you to give you your instructions.”


I was home sick the next day. Stomach flu or something. Of course, with my luck, there was another burglary, this time in my own neighborhood! The victim this time was a 70 year old man who owned a news-stand. I knew who he was too! He was found in a bathroom in a building adjacent to his stand. Like all the others, he was standing at attention, frozen, in his bare feet.

He had just left the police station after filing a complete report when Peters called me with the update.
In fact, Frank Desmond, the 70-year old victim agreed to be hypnotized by Kevin on-spot and he remembered something that no other previous victim had.

I was more than curious but Peters wouldn't say more over the phone. He wanted me to come in.

Despite feeling like death incarnate, I got dressed and headed out.

As I walked into Detective Peters section, I heard someone say out loud, “That's him! He's the guy, from TV!”

I figured whoever that was, was probably a fan or something and I looked around for the source. And it was Frank Desmond, standing right next to Detective Peters and pointing straight at me.

-“Detective?” I was totally confused.

-“Drew... we'd like Kevin to do another session with you.” He sounded sternly concerned.

-“Wh... why? What's up?”

-“You're the one that hypnotized me you freak! I remember your face! You're the one that showed me that damn pendant thing and... and...”

-“Calm down Mr. Desmond. We're going to get to the bottom of this.”

-“ME?! He thinks I hypnotized him!? I don't even know how to hypnotize someone, and I'm straight, and I don't go for guys... or their feet...”

-“Drew, just relax. I have a theory that I want Kevin to test on you.”

-“What, now?” Suddenly I was nervous. “Ok.” But I agreed.


-“So deeply relaxed Drew... deeper and deeper as you focus on the sound of my voice as it guides you into this profound relaxed state...”

Kevin's voice had completely washed over me and I was completely at peace; even my stomach upset seemed to go away.

-“Drew, were you at the Miller and Coltrane Avenue newsstand early this morning?”

-“Yes.” I said yes? Was I really there this morning? Kevin must have seen my confused albeit sleepy face.

-“Does that sound wrong to you Drew?”

-“I was sick today. Took a sick day from work. I didn't think I went anywhere... but, but, I did.”

-“Did you buy a newspaper or magazine?”

-“I... er... I don't think so.”

-“Then why were you there?”

-“I... I... had to... I... didn't... I... what's going on?!” I started coming out of it, a sense of panic washing over me. Why couldn't I answer that very basic question? Why the hell was I there? And why didn't I remember?

-“Relax Drew... I want you to just relax. Take a deep breath, clear your mind and prepare yourself to go even deeper...”

Moments later I was recalling the whole ghastly series of events. I woke up at 5:30 this morning, put on a black trench coat I didn't even know I owned and walked thirteen blocks to the newsstand in question.
When I saw Mr. Desmond scurrying about setting up his stand, I approached, playing with something in my pocket as I did. As soon as I was within a foot of Mr. Desmond, I procured this crystal on a chain from my pocket and hung it in his line of sight. I somehow knew this whole induction script as well and once I saw Mr. Desmond was in a trance I ordered him into the building closest to us and into the lobby level washroom. I ordered him to take off his shoes and socks and upon seeing this man barefoot, my cock sprang to attention! Minutes later I had cum all over his left foot and was using my cock to rub my semen into his sole. I then took his wallet and left.

-“Why did you do all this Drew?”

-“I... I think I was hypnotized into doing this... I remember receiving orders to hypnotize Mr. Desmond.”

-“From who?”


-“Ryan _____?”


-“Is Ryan the one that hypnotized you?”

-“I... I don't know.”


Ok, so a lot of weird stuff happened after that; first of all, I obviously wasn't charged with anything, but I did have to submit a blood sample for toxicology. It was a theory that hadn't panned out with any of the other victims, but Detective Peters was convinced that rohypnol was somehow involved in this saga. The day after I was accused of molesting Mr. Desmond, the television station put me on a mandatory leave... I was effectively off the story as it were and at least temporarily out of work. And the weirdest thing that happened was with Ryan. He showed up on my doorstep ringing my bell around 3:30 in the afternoon.

-“Ryan? Did you see Detective Peters yet?” I asked before even inviting him in. Please – I was so beyond pleasantries at that point and I wanted to know if Ryan had maybe agreed to be hypnotized by Kevin...

-“Yup. Can I come in?” He walked past me as if he'd been to my house dozens of times. This was his first time here.

I followed him into my kitchen area. He was pouring himself some water as I entered.

-“So... what happened?” I asked biting on a hangnail nervously. Truth is, I was nervous.

Ryan looked at me, his blue eyes almost terrified... “I... I let the police therapist dude hypnotize me... you know, to try and get back some memories...?”

-“I take it your mom wasn't there?” I semi-joked.

-“Nah, she didn't even know I went down there. But like, I needed to know, you know?” I could tell Ryan was stalling. He wanted to talk to me about what he remembered, but it was a topic he wasn't all that comfortable with... which could only mean one thing...

-“Like, did you know I called you two days ago when you were hypnotized? Apparently, I was hypnotized at the time as well --- I'm the one who gave you the orders to hypnotize Mr. Desmond, but Drew, you gotta believe me dude, I didn't originate those orders. They were given to me by someone who I kept calling “master.” Master! Pff! Can you believe that?! Me? Calling some asshole foot molester my master?”

Suddenly a memory flashed in my head --- Ryan cumming on the soles of my feet, on command, saying “yes master” as he did. I kept that memory to myself.

-“He's got all of us through a loop, that's for sure. Ryan, can I trust you with something? You know how in none of my reports did I mention that the victims bare feet were cum on, right?”

The red head nodded.

-“Well, the police have more than a working theory now about the perpetrator – actually, make that plural.”

Ryan looked dumbfounded.

-“What? There's two hypnotists now?” He joked.

-“Actually, there could be more than half a dozen. Detective Peters believes this is a case of serial hypnosis.”

I could tell by Ryan's blank face that he had no idea what serial hypnosis was. I took the ultimate in chances...

-“Ryan, do you remember what you ordered me to do yesterday?”

-“Hypnotize Mr. Desmond.” His response was instant; he knew where this conversation was going.

-“So you know that whoever victimized us the first time around is now turning us into the hypnotist's with foot fetishes! Crazy as it sounds...”

Ryan looked at me sympathetically.

-“It's not crazy Drew! Yesterday, I invited my gay friend over and we just hung out, played some Wii, and out of nowhere I asked him to take off his socks. It was bizarre! And Rick just looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo! When I asked a second time, but with a more nudge-like tone, he took them off... and Drew... as soon as I saw Rick's feet... my dick... it got like super-hard!” Ryan whispered that last part, “super hard”.

He went on to tell me that he didn't do anything with Rick, but that he did have to excuse himself to the bathroom to wank off shortly thereafter. When he returned to the living room with his digital camera he was bummed to find Rick had put his socks back on.

-“I know there's something wrong here Drew! Rick thinks I have a thing for guy's feet!” Ryan sounded nervous now.

-“Ryan? Did Detective Peters tell you what I did to Mr. Desmond yesterday morning?”

-“No. But I guess, the worst...?”

-“Yup. All over Mr. Desmond's size tens! Thank your lucky stars you haven't been called into 'service' yet.

Ryan looked terrified.


To make a long story short, Ryan moved in with me later that week, temporarily, feeling more secure with someone going through the same thing. Also, he was right, we could be like a buddy system... if one of us got the whammy put on us, the other could wake him up. Ryan's mom was a bit skeptical with all of it; he couldn't tell her why he was moving out and so he went for something generic, like, 'he wanted to try moving out on his own...'

Having Ryan around the house reminded me of my University years living in that large Colonial house with the seven bedrooms and ten roommates... it was a wonder I got any studying done much less found time to actually graduate.

Not even one week into our new living arrangement and it became abundantly clear that we Ryan and I needed to spend most if not all of our waking time together. Insane, I know but I had a meeting in town with Derick Donovan, the journalist that was assigned my previous load; I had to brief him and give him a bunch of files and things I had in my possession. I was gone for no more than three hours but when I got home, I found Ryan masturbating all over his friend Rick's foot, and Rick, for all intents and purposes looked as though he had spent some time looking at that crystal.

-“Ryan!” I practically yelled as I stormed into my living room. He didn't even respond. He simply lifted the crystal pendant and I... I...


Now, I would never have known about that whole incident except that a few days later, I was online and decided to see if there were any new hypno-foot videos out there on Youtube. Wouldn't you know that the first link I get is titled, Drew Cavanaugh, bare feet and hypnotized in his home with friends?”

I couldn't believe what I was seeing! The video began with me lying on top of Ryan's friend Rick. I mean literally on top of the dude – the back of my scalp was on his face and because we were both about the same height, 5'11” or so, the heels of my feet were resting atop his long narrow toes. Ryan is nowhere in the scene but I assume he was the one operating the camera as it panned around our rigid bodies which looked glued-together somehow. Oh and did I mention that both Rick and I were in our undies only? Basically, I had this gay dude's hard dick pressed up against the crack of my ass! Thank God for underwear.

The scene took place on the floor of my living room. I recognized the carpet and the surrounding décor. After he finished panning, the camera was set opposite us , on the coffee table; the next thing to come into the scene was Ryan's hands (and part of his face) leaning down and lifting both Rick's and my feet, holding Rick's by his heels and me by my toes. Ryan straightened up and suddenly we see he is not wearing underwear. Minutes later Ryan has cum all over mine and Rick's soles, all of it captured on digital file for eons of Youtube posterity.

The video ended with the three of us, sitting upright, side by side; all of us staring blankly into the camera like deer caught in headlights. There was a few seconds of that, I thought it was all over, but then the three of us, sounding more like robots than ourselves saying, “We are hypnotized slaves. We obey our master!”

I called Ryan into my study right away and watched his reaction as he watched the video. The kid nearly lost it. In fact, I think he did. When he saw his red pubic hair and exposed dick and Rick's and my feet in view, all he could say was, “No, please tell me I didn't... I couldn't have... I... I... don't remember this!”

He looked away a few times too. I felt for the kid. But I also felt for me too. And I had to call Detective Peters and make sure he receives this link. I also needed to make sure he got it off Youtube ASAP. This new video had already received over 2000 hits and I couldn't help but be shitting about who might have potentially stumbled upon it. One of the tags on the video was my full name after all, so anyone looking for anything by me would find this in a standard search.


Ryan and I became extremely close after that; I would say I even started to think of him as the kid brother I never had. I mean, there aren't that many straight guys that have been forced into homosexual acts with each other that could still maintain a friendship, but somehow we did. Of course, there was also that tiny detail I'm debating whether or not to admit to here. After Ryan and I watched that Youtube video together, we officially became foot-fuck-friends. I know it's nuts. But there was something about Ryan's feet, those plump, thick pink soles and the pudgy toes... they turned me on. Ryan loved my toes as well, favoring my left second-toe which was a bit of a 'hammer'. He'd suck on it for hours as we watched television, it became like a pacifier to him.

Ryan and I knew what was happening. We knew were were being controlled into doing these things, but still, despite this, it felt right and Ryan felt the same way. I know because we talked about it all the time.


If you think this story has taken too many incredulous turns, then you ain't heard nothing yet! It was less than a month after Ryan moved in. We were watching the news and Dereck Donovan's coverage of the hypno-burglar's latest conquest --- an undercover police detective that had been working on the case and was posing as a night-mall-security guard. He was found at 8 am standing barefoot in the mall's fountain by several of the mall's merchants arriving after 8 am. According to Dereck, Detective Peters was sent to hospital and released. He had no comment about his experience.

Ryan and I couldn't believe what we were hearing... Detective Peters? A victim of the hypno-burglar? I couldn't imagine the towering, imposing man under anyone's spell!

-“He must have embedded himself into the case like I did... good luck to him now, he'll soon be on leave!” I sarcastically joked. Though it had only been about three and a half weeks I was bored out of my skull not working.

Curiosity got the best of me. I called Detective Peters and left him a message to call me back at his convenience. He called about an hour later and said he was coming over here, that we needed to talk and that he believed he was very close to breaking the case. I made coffee and put out some day old pastries I had --- I knew this visit was going to be good.


-“You're sure he's the mastermind? Pardon the pun...” I couldn't believe what I had just heard out of Detective Peters mouth.

-“I'm 99% certain. But we need to do one more set up to be absolutely sure... before I can move in on him that is... That's where you come in Drew!”

-“Me? Detective, I've been off this beat for nearly a month. What can I do?” I wanted to help, I just couldn't see what my role in the 'big plan' could be.

-“Oh you can do a lot Drew. In fact, I got you off of leave. You're back on the story and you're going to interview me. This is what we're going to do and we're doing it tomorrow!


“...And with even the police falling victim to the hypno-burglar, the city asks, is anyone safe? Drew Cavanaugh is back on this story and back with us after a much needed break. Drew”

“Thank you Cindy. It's great to be back and on this hot-button story that's gripped our city's headlines for nearly three months now. The Hypno-Burglar... did he make a fatal error in targeting an undercover officer of the law? We'll have my interview with Detective Peters coming up after the break and Cindy, you won't believe how close police are right now to cracking this whole thing wide open.”

-“Is that so? Well I'm sure we all look forward to your report then Drew, thanks. We'll be right back.”

-“And clear!” The director shouted as make-up came round to do a few quick touch-ups. We had two minutes and twenty two seconds before returning live. I used that time to review my notes.


-“We're back with Drew Cavanaugh and his expose report on the hypno-burglar; Drew, what can you tell us?”

-“Well Cindy, Detective Peters is all the more determined to nab this guy especially after falling victim to him last night. But one thing the hypno-burglar doesn't know is that he was seen leaving the mall, interestingly enough by one of his former victims – a Mr. Ryan O'Dell. Ryan told police he could describe the man's face perfectly and that he was certain the man looked very familiar.”

Back at my place... as we suspected, the phone rang. Ryan was there but so was Detective Peters and several other detectives.

Ryan answered but so did everyone else.

-“Hello Ryan. Are you alone or is Drew there with you?”

-“Um, no, I'm alone, I... who is this?!”


Ryan was under so fast it caught Detective Peters off guard.

-“Ryan, stay where you are. I am coming over to Drew's house.” The voice on the other end suddenly vanished, replaced by a singular dial tone.

Detective Peters jostled the sleeping red head awake and the group waited patiently for the arrival of the 'master-perp.'


In the meantime, I was doing everything I could to get home before all of this excitement went down. I didn't want to miss this for nothing! I must have blown five or six red lights on my mad dash back but I couldn't help it. I had been so much a part of this story for so long now that I needed to be there for it's imminent ending.

I pulled up to the front of my house and realized there was someone standing at the door. I couldn't make out who and I was soooo hoping this wasn't the perp. My luck, it would be and I'd be ruining everything. I got out of my car lickety split and ran up to the front door. It was Kevin... the Police therapist.

We exchanged hellos and pleasantries. Ryan answered the door just as I was about to unlock it myself.

-“Ah, Ryan! Invite me in!”

Ryan smirked a little, but answered dutifully, 'yes master.' As Kevin walked in, Ryan winked at me.

-“Might as well have you both under... Drew, HYPNO-SLAVE!”

My body froze. So did Ryan's. Both of us stating our required “yes master's”.

-“That's all we need boys! Take him away!” Detective Peters emerged from the dining room; several others came right up to Ryan and I and jarred us awake.

-“How did you know I'd be here? You set me up!” Kevin O'Dell sneered at Detective Peters.

-“Drew's piece on tonight's news was just the bait we needed; I was pretty sure it was you, after you hypnotized Drew the second time. You remember, one of your questions to Drew was...

-“Were you at the newsstand at the corner of Coltrane and _________ Avenues? Only no one had told you at that point which newsstand Mr. Desmond owned and operated. How would you know where that crime took place unless you were somehow involved in it? After I came to yesterday I had a few brief memory flashes of you showing me that crystal – you Kevin! What were you doing at the Mall at 1 am? You were the only one that knew I was working undercover there that night... you're an exceptional hypnotist... that we've all seen... shall I go on?”

-“Why bother?” Kevin sounded defeated he was handcuffed and led out the door by officers Valencez and Valentino.

Detective Peters put his arms around me and Ryan, slapping us both playfully on our backs. “Good work boys! Now we need to get all of us to a real therapist – undo whatever that motherfucker did to us!”

Ryan and I looked at each other; I looked downward and was pleased to see him in standing there in his bare feet. I had my loafers on.

-“Um... that's ok Detective... Ryan and I are already seeing someone privately!” I smiled at him, he winked at me and I kicked off my loafers with a sigh. It had been a long day.


Kevin O'Dell never stood trial for his crime of masterminding serial hypno-burgling; when he left journalist Drew Cavanaugh's house that evening, that was the last anyone ever saw of him and officers Jorge Menendes and Bruno Valentino; two family men, who served their community with distinction for a combined 15 years remain classified as missing.

Their abduction is now in the investigative hands of the FBI.

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