Incomplete Sonata Hypnosis thing

>Anon shakes his head, freeing himself of that strange feeling groping his brain.
>He struggles for a moment before speaking, mind and memories all jumbled.
>"Are you... Are... I think, uh... Your hair... is really uh... Like, big... Not big but like, has a lot to it, y'know?
>A wry grin crosses the siren's face.
>She leans in, speaking once more:
-~{¡ |¡k€ ¥¤μ}~-
>He recoils in mind and soul, but not body.
>To the outside observer it appears as though he may have drunkenly confused himself and is slightly teetering as he attempts to mentally right himself.
>Inside, though, he feels as though cradled in a dimension of soft, dry jelly, sideways to the one he knows.
>Anon barely recognizes that which he typically takes for granted. Who are these strange small-mouthed beasts around him, cavorting and lollygagging in a seeming obscene way?
>Rays of unseen but sensed light emenate from a source which he is eager to find.
>Intuition and something else guide him to that girl from somewhere.
>The fact that he's caught in her gaze excites and delights him, knowing that he's trapped inside her vision is comforting just in the way a prison isn't.
>He stands unmoving for an unfelt minute, then doesn't.
>Consciousness of the self has been discovered.

    >Upon realizing that he exists in a physical way to at least a degree, Anon re-accounts.
    >Something about her gives him that about-to-take-a-risk animal apprehension feeling.
    >A twitch in his left thigh answers the call for movement, but that's all.
    >Trapped.
    >Anon vocalizes his feeling and intentions, but he's pretty sure it came out:
    "uhhh..."
    >A tiny giggle bubbles out of her mouth.
    >It's quickly hidden by her hand.
    >He shakes his head, a headache that sits like a loose skulley is upon him.
    >The regular world is quickly but unnoticeably replacing his waking dream.
    >His puzzling escapes his head through his mouth.
    "Bar? I'm in, at..."
    >The siren places a feathery hand upon his shoulder.
    >Though light and silky, it stabilizes him better than any metal ever could.
    >And it speaks to him as well, not in word but it talks nevertheless.
    >It says love, and trust.
    >It says all the nice things about laughing with a friend and the comfort of eyes on your back.
    >Her eyes are the only things that count as visible.
    >It says every kindness in the book, the implacable enjoyment of another soul.
    >All carried in the vehicle of-
    >All framed by the framing of-
    >A gift lunch for the pitiful.
    >It brings Anon to the brink of tears, his eyes sting but they aren't worth rubbing.
    >She places her other hand on his other shoulder before they both find their way onto his biceps.
    >Closer than ever before, her perfect rose creme lips split.
    .:|ᵻ| Ɪ |ᵻ|:.
    >Sweet breath flows like mist.
    >A fever heats his flesh, his muscles have all surrendered.
    >The heady feeling of a cock at maximum strength drives everything that isn't a sensation or a result of one from his mind.
    >It flexes, and aches, like a structure unable to bear itself.
    >If his knees weren't locked, he'd long ago have collapsed to the ground.
    >That siren leans in even further.
    >She breathes out in a hot, wet breath:
    Ȋ
    >Raw, real heat.
    >As it touches his face he's forced to let loose half a closed mouth moan.

>Pre-cum slowly spews from his cockhead, soaking through his pants in a burning musky stain.
>An echo says something about not doing certain things in public, but it doesn't matter.
>She matters.
>Everything that ever was was a stepping stone for this fountain.
>Real vapor crashes between them, sent by their respective mouths.
>She whimpers small
"mm"s
>in between raw breaths, tongue coating and lips smacking in a symphony of eroticism.
>White, hard lined teeth peak out, a sharp contrast to fleshy softness.
>Lidded, red eyes stare at each other for one important moment.
>This is it.
>Anon doesn't know what it is, but it's coming and he wants it.

_.I\
_._\
_._L\
_.__I.\
_._K./
_.E/
_.\
_._Y.\
_.__.O\
_.__._U\

>Reality is memories moments after they happened.
>He's leaning on his favorite who's taking him from a drinking place.
>Foul harpies and jackass satyrs look and see him.
>They make faces and think things, but he's like a town drunk or buddha.
>Far away from such standard ways.
>A tug on his side and the night continues.
>Cold air, pavement, and dark sky.
>Her face.
>A yellow vehicle.
>Her face.
>A hand taking him into a dark seated place.
>Her face.
>A burning palm on his molten thigh, it's pinkie nearly taking him over the edge.
>Her face.
>Babbling from ahead, a choir from beside.
>Her face.
>Streaks of light and brick.
>Her face.
>The pavement again, but this time quieter.
>Her face.
>Yellow lights above grey lines.
>Her face.
>An off white gateway that struggles open after clinkling and a krunkh - kak!.
>Her face.
>Dark good smelling comfort, tugging towards a darker better smelling comfort.
>Her elated face.
>Falling onto the darkest, best smelling comfort.
>Where is she?