Description What if you had the power to make an attractive young guy pop out extra arms, in real time, in front of an audience, and have no one, including him, think anything unusual about it?
|Updated||01 May 2002|
I knew I would find a time when I could use my recently acquired morphing and mind control skills, and sure enough, the occasion arose out of the blue.
It was at work, of all places, during a long business presentation, attendance required. The presenter was a handsome young fellow I'd noticed from time to time, but never met. He worked in a distant section of the company, and I only saw him from time to time in a hallway or parking lot, when we were going in opposite directions.
Two other presentors had finished their presentations, and he had been giving a detailed, graphic-heavy section of the presentation that required quite a bit of explanation and background. He was handling it just fine, and I was enjoying watching him.
I found myself drifting and not paying attention to his presentation, because I was watching his hands. He had noticed me watching them, but it appeared that he liked the attention he caught me giving him, so that's when I decided to do it.
He was giving a good exposition, using flip charts and a projection screen, looking good in his business-casual polo shirt and dockers, a nice-looking young guy. The whole room was immersed in the details of his presentation, but I kept watching those nice hands of his. They were articulate and swift, silently bearing out his statements and reasoning out his words, handsomely adding to the conversation with the added emphasis his hands gave to his discourse.
Now I would try my mind control and morphing skills. The room would not notice, nor would he. I gave him four arms, and it was done.
The presentation continued, only his natural and intelligent discussion was now being borne out by the hand movements of four hands rather than two. They were all handsome hands, large and graceful on slender wrists, with nicely smooth-muscled forearms, all the nicer for their even accentuation of hair.
Everyone in the room continued to consider the points he was making, and the four arms readily contributed with their gestures, the four handsome hands alternately pointing, clasping, opening to the room, sweeping in a low arc to underscore a broad statement, or passing the remote control for the projector among themselves.
Only once did the extra hands strike each other inadvertently as he spoke; two right hands and a left slapped together as he miscalculated the size of a gesture, with so many hands in close proximity.
He still was not conscious that it was unusual that he had four hands, nor was the rest of the room. I was enjoying this. He noticed me again, and the brief flash of welcome showed in his eyes, quickly superseded by his focus on the presentation.
So I did it again. and now he had six of them. They were so handsome! He and the room didn't notice anything as unusual. I loved this level of mind control. I would continue to practice it, I vowed.
But there he was, enumerating his talking points and gesturing towards the projection screen, the six hands consummately skillful and circumspect, only motioning when needed to bring out a word or a concept. I had to credit him that they did not fly about or become spidery, going this way and that. No; he kept all six hands pretty close about him, sometimes crossing two pairs of arms and letting the third pair do the talking, but mostly letting the six handsome arms hang naturally, in relaxed company as they moved among each other.
Sometimes they would bump or slap each other, which I found understandable; after all, they all embodied his intelligence and animation, and I wouldn't have expected him to run six arms at once with the same skill he'd run two of them all of his life.
The presentation finished and there was applause, the roomful of people filed out, some staying onward to thank or congratulate him or to discuss further points or to exchange business cards. My mind control kept him and everyone in the room unaware that it was unusual for him to have six hands, and it was nice watching him doggedly shaking hands and digging for his business card holder and giving his card and taking the cards from the others, his six beautiful hands laboring quietly and gloriously as they served him, the lightly haired, handsome arms sliding among themselves as the hands dove to their various tasks or hung relaxed when not otherwise engaged.
He caught my eye and smiled, giving me a nonverbal welcome as he finished speaking to the last of the stragglers. I decided that I would make him unaware of additional unusual aspects of the situation, and I did. He would take nothing I did as the least bit unusual or forward. As I walked up to greet him he offered me his hands, and mine were lost in them, loving the feeling of their firm, cool, friendly clasp. I put my arms around him and kissed him passionately, loving his six arms around me.
“I loved your presentation, and I love you,” I said, enjoying his embrace and his relaxed return kiss. “Thanks,” he smiled. “I love you, too,” he said, his six hands finding comfortable places to rest on my shoulders, among my hands and around my waist. “We should make love.”
That decided it. I'd keep him that way.