An Amazing Gift

This story is the seventh story to feature master hypnotist "The Amazing Randy." It's a "prequel" which tells the story of Randy's acquisition of his hypnotic power. The four entries in "The True Professional" series and the two "Prison Psychologist" entries take place when he is in middle age at the height of his powers. In "An Amazing Gift" we meet Randy during his senior year in high school.

It is my honest wish that when you have finished reading any of my works, you take a few moments to give me a bit of feedback. It helps me to decide what to write about next. Positive criticism and negative criticism are both welcome. Either way, thanks for reading.

*****

Randy Baumgardner stepped from the shower and began to dry himself off. He looked for his face in the foggy mirror, raised his right hand, and gave the glass a couple of swipes revealing his foggy twin. As he studied his image, Randy was well aware of the fact that his looks were completely ordinary. He was neither ugly nor handsome, just an eighteen year old kid, complete with a couple of nasty looking pimples, which he treated with Clearasil, a skin-colored anti-acne cream. Leaving the bathroom draped in his bath towel, he made his way to his room, a smallish space with old, peeling wallpaper and a painted wood floor. He dressed for school.

Randy was very much a typical high school senior. At almost exactly six feet, he had just finished a mini growth spurt during the summer before his senior year which had raised him to the six foot mark from the five foot seven inch mark he had achieved during the previous seventeen years. His growth had been so rapid that it had literally exhausted him. Much of the current calendar year had been spent in bed. He slept twelve or more hours each night. It wasn't that he was lazy, just incapable of keeping up with his own body.

Randy's school achievements made for short reading. He was not an athlete; he was not a brainy geek. He did, however, have the gift of gab combined with a remarkably quick wit. Randy was both funny and fast on his feet. Though not disruptive, Randy was not afraid to "push the envelope" behaviorally, but most of the time he was content to make the occasional joke after the teacher had done or said something odd or even controversial. This rapier wit did not endear him to the teaching staff and most scowled when he induced laughter from his peers by wising off.

One did not. It was Mr. Clarkson, Randy's astronomy teacher. When he looked at Randy Mr. Clarkson did not see a troublemaker. He saw a funny kid who was obviously a good deal sharper than his grades would indicate. In a way, they were kindred spirits. "Mr. C." was known to the students as being funny, smart, and understanding. He treated his students with friendly respect, allowing them, so far as he could, leeway to be kids. On the first day of class Mr. C. had laid out his class rules. Nobody was allowed to swear or attack another student verbally in a hurtful way. He encouraged "his guys" to make fun of him instead- within reason. So, anything, with the exception of direct disobedience, was pretty much OK in Mr. C's class.

One day about a month into the school year Mr. C. asked Randy to see him briefly after school, making sure that Randy understood that he was in no trouble. When Randy arrived, Mr. C. was sitting at his desk, resting a bit after five classes of 45 minute floorshow. Randy sat down and Mr. C. began to speak. "Randy," he said, "I have a proposition for you. As you know, our school's planetarium is a public resource as well as a teaching tool. Each year I choose a student to be the voice of the planetarium. Other students will use the planetarium software I use for lessons to create lessons for our public shows which are monthly for the first semester and bi-weekly until the end of the year. I want you to be the narrator, announcer, and master of ceremonies for the entire year."

As his teacher continued to explain what would be expected of him Randy began to perspire and he got goosebumps. He didn't feel sick, just odd. His mind wandered returning only when Mr. Clarkson said "Earth to Randy. Come in Randy. Are you OK?"

"Sorry, Mr. C." said the teenager. I'm sorry, honest; I just felt a body tingle that gave me goosebumps. Here, look." He held up both arms to bolster his apology with physical evidence.

"You sure you're OK?" asked his teacher leaning in to get a better view.

"Yeah, Mr. C., Randy replied.

"At any rate, Randy, all you have to do is learn the script and entertain the people. I've done a little asking around and it appears that most of your teachers don't appreciate your wit as much as I do. Randy shook his head affirmatively."

"Yeah."

"Well, Randy, I want to tell you something. I know how smart you really are. Nobody can be that funny and be stupid at the same time. I believe in my core that rapidity of wit is one of the finest indicators of a strong mind. You're a funny guy, Randy and you're fast on your feet. I need a guy just like you for this job. Tell you what, the performances are in the evening and we collect a two dollar a head donation. If you agree to do the job and do it well I will split the gate with you. The planetarium seats 40 people. I'll give you half a buck a head and the program gets the rest. If you pack 'em in, you make a cool twenty a show, but you have to take it seriously and you gotta be good. What do you say?"

Randy looked straight at the man offering him a job, wondering what the catch was, trying to find what angle his teacher was working. No teacher had ever been so, well, nice to him before. He knew that he'd be able to use the money. His aunt, with whom he had lived for his entire high school career, made do on a very limited budget. His "allowance" consisted of an occasional ten spot when his aunt could afford it. She called it "walkin' around money."

"I'll do it," said Randy. "When do I start?"

"I'm assigning the groups tomorrow. You will be expected to give input, but mostly you'll just work on your script. Remember, you will be working with every one of the groups to some extent." Mr. Clarkson stood up and extended his hand to seal the deal between the two. Randy did likewise. As their two hands clasped, Randy received a psychic jolt. In his mind he saw images of Mr. C., but mostly it was feelings and sensations of extraordinary awareness.

Randy reflexively tried to pull his hand back like he had been zapped by a static charge. His teacher merely doubled his grip, saying "Randy, when you shake hands with a man, shake hands like a man" before releasing his charge. The instant the physical contact was broken, the images and sensations disappeared from Randy's mind and he was back in class. Mr. Clarkson apparently, had not shared the experience; at least so far as Randy could tell.

Randy rose to his feet and said, "Thanks Mr. C.. I really appreciate your faith in me and I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Randy. That's why I chose you," said his teacher, who was beaming, pleased with himself that he had done the right thing by his student.

As soon as Randy closed the door to the classroom he made a bee-line for the boys' room. Once inside, he made sure he was the only occupant and then stared at himself in cracked mirror over one of the sinks. "What the fuck was that?" he said out-loud to no one in particular. As he concentrated the images in his head kind of "sorted" themselves. More importantly, he could somehow "understand" his teacher. Randy knew things about him. He could "see" that Mr. C. was a good man in his heart and that he genuinely wanted Randy to succeed. There were other insights as well.

Randy gathered himself and made his way home. He was greeted at the door by his aunt who reached out to give her nephew a welcoming hug. As his aunt reached out to put her arms around her nephew Randy caught another psychic transfer, but this time he was not so surprised. When Randy and his aunt released each other Randy stepped back with a new appreciation for his aunt. He could feel her love and devotion to him and hugged her tightly again because he knew that was what she really wanted and moreover she deserved his love in return. "I love you, Auntie," he said.

Randy had been left with his aunt because his parents were "working the circuit," which is to say that they were in show business, a mentalist act on the carnival and state fair circuit. His father knew all the tricks of the trade and dabbled mildly in amateur hypnotism. Occasionally it was helpful in his act. As it turned out, his parents were due to come to town for the regional fall fair in a week. Randy was glad that they were coming.

Randy knew the basics of the act including the hypnotism parts, having watched his parents rehearse countless times. He knew that most people could not be hypnotized against their will. He also knew that it helped if the hypnotist knew something about his subject and to try to make a connection "mentally" as best he could. It was all real, but a little bit shady- part psychology, part show biz. This was different. Randy could tell that he had developed some kind of mental power which allowed him to "know" folks by merely touching them. He began to wonder if the extent of his new sensitivity included not only knowing things but being able to influence them to do things as well.

The next day at school he determined to try his power out on his peers. As he walked into school he shook hands with Al Ryan, the football team's quarterback, the most popular guy in the school. No longer "jolted" by new insight, Randy discovered that if he concentrated, he could funnel the information he learned into a special place in his brain which he mentally designated the "library." Later he could retrieve what he wanted at will. As for Al, well, Al was just another kid, anxious about everything, much as he was himself.

In Mr. C's class the new groups had been assigned and Randy found himself with group one, which included Michelle Campton, who was widely recognized as the prettiest girl in school. As Randy joined the group to begin working on their "show" he shook hands with each of the members, a smart friendly bunch of kids, saving Michelle for last. That handshake lasted just a bit longer than the rest.

He learned that Michelle was much more than a pretty face fronting a well- developed body. She was 18, after all, and already a remarkable beauty from head to toe. Randy had imagined that Michelle would be the picture of self-confidence and for the most part she was. Oddly enough, it was her "love life" which concerned her the most. She knew that she was a "beauty;" she saw the way that the boys looked at her. She saw the envious glances from the rest of the girls as well. She knew that her looks were a double edged blade. They both attracted and deterred. She was developing quickly, way ahead of the curve, and filled with raging hormones, the same ones that had caused her breasts to swell and her hips to widen ever so slightly. She wanted very much to have a real boyfriend, one who would help her explore her emerging womanhood, but one who genuinely understood her as well.

Randy already "understood" her thanks to his newfound gift. What remained was for him to get her on a date.

On Wednesday, his parents arrived. Hugs and kisses from both parents provided Randy with exceptional insight into what made them tick. He understood that they worked the circuit half for the money, which was uneven but paid the bills, and half because they enjoyed "the life." Neither his mother nor his father had finished high school and they had decided that their son would at least have the benefit of attending, graduating and receiving his diploma from the same high school. Enter, Randy's loving aunt.

A genuine home-cooked feast was prepared by his aunt. After cleaning-up, which was his job, Randy waited until his aunt had gone to bed before sitting down to tell his parents what had happened to him. At first they were skeptical, naturally, but after Randy revealed some of the things he had learned about his parents after a mere moment's contact they were convinced. The question was where to go from here. Randy's Mom and Dad agreed to serve as guinea pigs while they were in town to see just how far Randy's new gift could be pushed. Randy knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to try hypnotism.

Randy's dad did his best to tell his son everything that he knew about the art of stage hypnotism. Randy sucked it up like a sponge before announcing that he was ready to give it a try. He looked his father in the eyes and then laid his hand on his father's forearm. "Dad," he said when I say the word "dessert" you will stand up and go to the refrigerator and check the freezer for ice cream. No matter what is in the freezer when you open the door you will see nothing but ice cream, in fact a freezer full of ice cream." When I snap my fingers you will forget everything. You will not remember the freezer or its imaginary contents. In fact you will forget why we're even here."

"Anybody interested in a little dessert?"

"I'll get it," said his dad who rose to go to the "fridge." As he opened the door and took a step back and exclaimed. "Holy Cow, Randy, who has the sweet tooth- you or your aunt? This freezer is filled with ice cream."

"Let me see, darling," said his mother as she rose to inspect. Her husband opened the door to reveal a small package of frozen chicken breasts and a couple of ice cube trays. No vanilla, no chocolate, no butter crunch- there was no ice cream of any kind. "Walter," she said quietly, "there is no ice cream in this freezer."

"What do you mean there's no ice cream? The freezer is jammed chock full of it."

"Dad, would you please come over and sit down? We have to talk about something." As soon as his father sat down, Randy looked at his mother and snapped his fingers.

"Dad, what were we doing one minute ago?" asked Randy.

"Well, son," his father replied, "we were just ... ah... well, you know, I can't remember."

"Oh my God!" Randy's mother exclaimed. "Walter, do you have any memory of what you just did?"

"What the hell did I do?"

"Under Randy's influence you just went to the refrigerator, opened the freezer door, and imagined that it was chock full of ice cream."

"The hell I did."

"OK, Dad, let's see if I can convince you," said Randy. Turning to his mother, Randy laid his hand gently upon her shoulder. Speaking softly, he said "Mom when I say the word 'night' you will stand up, twirl all the way around, quack like a duck, and then sit back down at the table. Until I say the words 'I release you, Mom' you will remain under my influence, doing as I say. Incidentally, no matter what my father asks, you will answer 'no' until I release you. At that point you will remember nothing about what I asked you to do."

"Dad," he said, "ask her any question you want."

Randy's mother did exactly as she was told- to the letter and to Randy's dad's astonishment. She denied knowing either of them. She denied being married. If her husband asked, the answer was "no."

The three talked well into the night. In the morning Randy's parents were due to return to head back to work. As they got into their car there was some more discussion and lots of parental advice, but all agreed that it would be best if Randy remained in school until graduation. Additionally, Randy agreed that he would reveal his power to nobody, including his aunt. This secret was to remain among the three of them.

Randy understood that he needed to keep a low profile, but the notion that he would not test and refine his new abilities, was out of the question. He had a test subject all lined up.

When the bell rang to end his astronomy class, Randy walked Michelle to the doorway and then reached out for her arm as if to guide her through the opening. "Today at lunch, Michelle, I would like you to come to my table and join me. I have some things I'd like to talk over with you," he said quietly.

"Sure, Randy," she replied. "See you at lunch."

Randy chose a small table away from the throng and set his lunch tray down. From his vantage point he could see Michelle in line, talking with her friends. At eighteen years old she was as close to a perfect example of femininity as he could imagine. Michelle was the perfect combination of adolescence and womanhood, thought Randy, and innocence too. Once through the line, Michelle declined an offer to sit with her girlfriends and walked over to Randy's table. "Hi, Randy," she said with a smile, "Mind if I join you?"

"Please do," he said with a hand gesture as he stood up, indicating that the only other seat at the table was ready to be occupied. She sat and began to eat her lunch. The moment of truth had arrived. Randy leaned forward and said "Michelle, I want you to stand up, adjust your outfit and then sit down again."

She did exactly as she had been told. There was no incredulous "What?" nor did she protest in any other way. She just did what she was told. Emboldened by his initial success, Randy said "Michelle, I'm going to ask you some questions and I expect you to answer truthfully to every one of them. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Do you have a date for the dance next week?"

"No."

"Have you been asked?"

"No,"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, I don't."

"Do you like boys?"

"Yes, I do."

"Are you a virgin?"

"Yes."

At this point, Randy, had most of the basic information he needed. With respect to Michelle the coast was clear. There would be no angry jock waiting to punch his lights out if he made his move on Michelle. He spoke softly to the beautiful teenager. "Michelle, when the lunch bell rings I release you from compulsive truth telling, but until I say 'I release you, Michelle' you will remain subject to my will. You will recall our lunch encounter but will not reveal what we said. When I say something to you, you will do as I say. When I ask you to the dance, you will say 'yes' and then you will look forward to our date."

The bell to move to class rang and the two young people stood. Randy said, "Michelle, would you like to go to the dance with me next week?"

She looked at him and smiled. "I'd love to, Randy."

On the night of the dance, Randy pulled up to the Campton house in his Aunt's 1966 Plymouth station wagon. Half as big as a bus, this vehicle featured lots of interior room for post-dance activities. Randy had spent the week planning this night and the station wagon was a very important cog in the plan. He rang the doorbell.

Michelle's father and mother opened the door and invited their daughter's date into their home. "Michelle will be down in a minute or two." The anxious parents were sizing Randy up to see if they should be concerned about their daughter's date.

Rand extended his hand to Michelle's father. "Mr. Campton, your daughter is perfectly safe with me." He assured Michelle's mother in a similar fashion. He spoke to both of them. "What is Michelle's curfew?"

"Midnight." They answered in unison.

Randy looked into their faces and said "Tonight is a special night. Her curfew is 2AM."

"You're right Randy; tonight is a special night. I think that 2AM is appropriate. Don't you dear?" they said to each other.

Just then Randy heard a creaking on the stairway and turned to look. What he saw was nothing short of stunning. Before him stood the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her face rivaled that of any teen model on the cover of "Seventeen" magazine. Her long brown hair hung down her back. She wore a form fitting black mohair sweater over a gray pleated woolen skirt that hung slightly above the knee. Michelle wore nylons and two inch heels. Her remarkable figure, though understated, was impossible to hide. Like all teenage boys, Randy appreciated mohair sweaters, a lot.