"Yeah, alright man, no problem. I'll meet both you guys near the east wing, OK? Alright, later."
You flipped your phone closed as you opened your door to your solo hotel room. "Home sweet home", you sarcastically mumbled to yourself. It certainly wasn't the Four Seasons, but finding a single bed hotel room before a con on short notice was a small miracle you didn't feel like questioning. Normally, you would've happily crashed in your friends' room as usual to avoid the trouble and save money, but if this little experiment of yours really did pay off as you hoped, it would be worth all the money and hassle in the world...
It happened pretty recently. Feeling a little peckish, you tried to nonchalantly walk off with a few small Reese's Cups after buying some smokes at the 7 Eleven. Of course, the pissed off foreign dude behind the counter had to give you shit for it, as if a few missing chocolates would drive him to bankruptcy. Normally, you would just give up the game and put the candy back, but something made you feel particularly irritated and demanding. "C'mon man, it's like 75 cents! Leave me alone!", you protested as you stared straight at him.
It was barely perceptible, but you swear you saw his eyes glow a faint red as his expression and demeanor immediately softened. "OK, sir." he said flatly. Taken off guard by his sudden submissiveness, you hesitantly left the store, candy still in hand.
You couldn't believe it. That guy was known for having a five foot stick up his ass. He would never cut anyone a break, especially not shoplifters, however petty. If it had been anyone else, you probably wouldn't have thought about it. Instead, it was stuck on your mind for the rest of the day.
"I just stared straight at him... That red thing... That had to be something..."
In the limited time you had between then and getting ready for the con that weekend, you decided to experiment. Sure enough, if you focused your gaze intently enough on someone, that red glow would keep coming up, and it would always have the same effect. You started low-risk: you'd make small talk with complete strangers and ask them to scratch their hands while talking. You'd compel a passing jogger to stop and break pace for no reason. You got more than a few extra toppings on your ice cream at no cost. And none of it required even the slightest bit of sweet talk or arm-twisting. You asked. You demanded. Didn't matter. You got it.
As your confidence grew, so did the audacity of the stuff you pulled. You got that cute yet cold receptionist at the gym to give you her phone number, and even admit she thought you were cuter than her boyfriend (A thought you may or may not have "suggested.") That cop that pulled you over for going 50 in a 25 not only let you off easy, he made a few hilarious pig squeals as he walked back to his car. Your mom went from pressuring you to get a job to offering to reinstate the very generous allowance you used to get back in middle school.
And every single time, that same flash of red...
This wasn't a fluke. This was legit mind control.
So of course you were going to go wild with this gift on your first weekend getaway in months. The first day was pretty tame, like it is for any con. As usual, you and your buds went to get registered, grabbed some dinner, then hit the sack early so you could hopefully make it to both the dealer's room and the good panels before they got mobbed. Lucky for you, you happened upon a cutie in goth clothes and perfectly dyed white hair in the lobby that night. Sure, she didn't seem to want to be flirted with at first, but she immediately went from short, curt responses to constant touching and suggestive body language once you got a chance to "work your magic."
Needless to say, it was a good night (Turned out she was a 16 year old virgin, which had always secretly been on your bucket list. Luckily, she wouldn't be calling the cops on you. If it hurt for her, you couldn't tell, since you had already used your power to keep her quiet so you could go as hard as you want without complaints. Damn, it's gonna suck to be the housekeeping crew for this place.)
Already that single bed room paid for itself, but this was small potatoes compared to your true target. As you were browsing the guest list before making the trip, you eyes immediately shot to one name: Yaya Han. International cosplay model. An A-list name, at least among geek culture. And bona-fide, hot as hell, nerdy boy wet dream come to life. Your eyes immediately widened, hungry for the opportunity. And it was this opportunity that would color not just your first day at the con, not just that weekend, but the rest of your life.
You decided to take your new "friend" along with you so that you wouldn't look like the usual lonely creep in line to meet a famous hottie. True, she was a bit young for you, but she looked close enough to 18, and you figured taking her along would do more to lower suspicions than coming alone. After you explained to her friends why she'd be spending the rest of the weekend with you (you were very persuasive), you both went off to meet up with your friends. Luckily, they assumed she was just some con hookup, so they didn't ask any questions before you all went off to your event of choice for that day.
Sure enough, the line to meet a famous female star at a geek convention was long and boring. Sure, you had Whiteylocks there with you to amuse yourself, but a sloppy make-out in the middle of a crowded line would draw attention you really didn't want right now. You waited it out as long as you could, worrying that you wouldn't be able to make it in at all, but sure enough you finally managed to make it to your target.
You were practically shivering in anticipation as you approached her. Those strikingly Asian features, that commanding body language, and, of course, that gift from God himself that was her chest. You couldn't wait to lay claim to all of it. As you walked up to her and returned her smile, you knew that a little small talk was all you had left to get through before you had the woman of every geek guy's fantasies under your thumb.
"Hey there! How are you?" she asked politely
"Just fine," you answered calmly, "can I just ask for your autograph?"
As you moved to put down a notepad from your bag, you made sure your eyes met hers. And there it was, reflected in those regal, expressive eyes of hers: the red glow that gave you the green light to give the orders you had been carefully rehearsing since that morning.
"Rip out the bottom sheet of this notepad as discreetly as you can," you said under your breath, "Meet me at the time, place, and address written on it. Make whatever excuse you have to to make it there. Come alone, and don't attract attention to yourself. If anything holds you up, text the number listed. Now laugh as though I just told a funny story."
Yaya's expression, which had been a vapid, vacant smile as you gave your instructions, immediately brightened into a full laugh on cue. Your cover was perfect. You accepted the autograph, then sneakily tore off the bottom sheet on the notepad as Yaya carefully slipped it out with her forefinger and put it away.
The rest of the con flew by in a haze of restless waiting for that night, where you stood outside the back entrance of your hotel, checking the time constantly. You had to give your friends a lame excuse as to why you'd be late for dinner that night, so this plan had better work perfectly. You held your breath, nervously wondering if she'd come on time, or at all, and if these powers really were too good to be true.
Until...
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