The Streamer: Part 1
Take his mind. Take his feet.
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Leslie was a cocky bastard.
The nineteen year old streamer was good looking to a fault. Blue eyes, blonde hair, pearlescant scales on that dragonic body and a fiercely baby face for a dragon. Just about everyone in his age range had a massive crush on his dreamy looks, slender body, impeccable taste in his clothes and the way he presented himself. As soon as he was out of high school, Leslie started streaming almost full time until he hit a lucky break and reached half a million followers. From then on, his fame only managed to skyrocket, riding on his charm, his charisma, and, of course, his visual appeal.
Like any other streamer, Leslie had set up a donation on his streams, which he regularly made cash off of. As his followers grew, so did his donations, both in amount and frequency. The dragon got greedy and asked for monthly subs. Those, too, he received. As young as he was, the large amount of money soon went to his head, and he spent extravagantly on decorating his room for the stream. Yes, the stream. He used it as an excuse to convert his bedroom to a full on streaming studio, and then decked it out in all the latest cliche gaming apparel. A six hundred dollar gaming chair, for one. Then a five thousand dollar desktop. Then he upgraded his camera and his mic. Then, it was a whole makeover of his room, where the whole process of him working on it was completely live streamed. He made more money from the renovation than he spent on it. Leslie was ecstatic. He had made it big. A million followers. Two million. Three.
And it reflected in his attitude.
Leslie soon forgot his humble roots – his working parents lost much of their usage of the house, thanks to Leslie’s constant demands to use every other room for his streams, to which they should not appear – Leslie was still young, and was embarrassed by his parents, of course. They just weren’t as cool as he was. It wasn’t long after his 19th birthday that he was asked to move out of the nest – and he did, happily. He got an apartment of his own, which was large enough for a family of four or five. There, he duplicated the exact setup he had of his room, and his streaming revenue grew.
He held parties – livestreamed, of course – where he and his friends played video games while the viewers watched. He held extravagant dinners where he had his friends test out expensive and gross foods from all around the world. Four million followers. He did stupid things for the clout. He ran charity drives. He asked for game review codes. Five million followers. His comment sections were constantly flooded with how much his fans wanted to bang him, wanted to see him shirtless. Wanted to see his feet. The first time was a joke, and he flashed his bare foot across the camera just enough for his watchers to get a glimpse. It wasn’t very clear, but screencaps were made. From then on, every stream he hosted he would get a dozen comments like the first, asking for him to show his feet. The dragon would exploit that, too. First, he asked for fifty dollars. He got it instantly, and flashed his foot again. Another comment demanded a longer viewing time, and Leslie wanted five hundred. It took fifteen minutes, but eventually he did reach that amount – and Leslie happily obliged, laughing it off as a joke. When someone threw in a hundred bucks, Leslie wiggled his clawed toes for the fun of it, thinking nothing of what it meant for the people behind their monitors. Six million followers. Leslie was in the prime of his life, and he wasn’t even twenty yet.
Oh, and how he bragged about the millions he made. Not on screen, of course – that would be dumb. No. He’d brag to his friends, who tolerated him for all the privileges they enjoyed. For all the free stuff that companies sent his way, that he didn’t care for. For all the clout and social prestige of being close friends with a streamer.
But by god, did they hate his guts now that he was popular. At times, Leslie was intolerable. He’d repeat the story of making five hundred bucks just for flashing his feet on the screen for half a minute – and kept pushing the narrative that it would have taken anyone else a whole week of slaving away at the cashier to make the same. The mood was soured, but his friends put on a smile and endured it. The dragon took them out to dinner, and it was Leslie’s treat. They would never have gotten such a nice meal otherwise, but more importantly, half of the dinner was streamed. The result of that meal cost less than what he had gained. Leslie bragged again. And again. And again. And none of his viewers knew how he truly was off camera.
His friends were sick of it, and one of them began to devise a plan that would exact his revenge. Something to teach Leslie a lesson. Maybe a little more.
Three days later, Leslie was again streaming in his studio, playing an asymmetrical co-op survival game. He was getting a bit flustered because his team of random players were losing, but that was the nature of it. He made fun of the other team, abandoned his team’s objective, and tried to troll the other players for laughs.
“Alright. Even though we didn’t win, it was a good game.“ The dragon flashed his million dollar smile at the camera, as if his trolling didn’t just aggravate everyone else in the match. “Well, that is that – what, you guys want me to show my feet again? Come on, chat! Didn’t I just do that a few days ago? You know what I’ll show you, though? I’ll show you guys the pair of awesome sneakers I got. Yeah, that’s what I got with the money. Thanks, by the way. It looks great on me!”
Leslie lifted his legs and showed everyone the pair of five hundred dollar sneakers that he just got. Brand name, of course, and he doubled down on how thankful he was for all of their support. In the midst of it, Leslie’s phone vibrated to let him know he had received a message. Normally, he wouldn’t even look at his phone while on stream, but something inside him nagged him to do it, as though Leslie was compelled to read a message at exactly four in the afternoon.
“What is.. This?” The dragon chuckled as he opened the message, revealing a video from his friend. It looked like a meme at first, but he clicked on it anyway.
The video began to play, and it was nothing but a swirl of colors spinning in a counterclockwise pattern. Leslie furrowed his brows in confusion for a moment, but the longer he looked at it, the more he wanted to keep looking at it. “Uh… What..?”
His mind was starting to empty as the hypnotic suggestions took hold. The volume was set on low, which made it impossible for his mic to pick up on anything that it didn’t automatically filter out as background noise. “Relax, Leslie. Relax.” The voice said in a calm, monotonous manner. “Listen to the sound of my voice and relax. Empty your mind. Be at ease. Relax.”
“Mmm… This feels.. Pretty good.” The dragon muttered. Instantly, he had forgotten about his stream. All of his attention focused on the video on his phone. His eyes became glazed over and unblinking, which was a little disturbing for his viewers. Unfortunately for Leslie, his followers only thought that he was doing a ‘bit’ and encouraged him to keep going in the chat. Nobody thought Leslie was in any danger. “Hehe.. pretty.. Colors..!”
For someone as cocky as Leslie, the blonde dragon had an incredibly weak willpower. The hypnotic suggestions soon took root in his mind, and Leslie subconsciously hung onto every word the video spoke. “Count with me, Leslie. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. You feel more and more relaxed as you count. You feel more and more uninhibited as you count down. Count with me. Are you ready? Ten, nine, eight..”
“Seven.. Six.. Five.. Four.. three.. Two.. One. Mmmm..! I am.. Relaxed.” The dragon’s mouth moved, and his voice softened from that of the excited streamer to one that was much more natural.
“Let’s do it again, Les. I can call you Les, right? Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. You don’t mind me calling you Les, do you?”
“Mmm.. No. Les. Yes, okay.” Leslie replied, while the chat laughed at his ‘skit’. Many watchers were confused, but they wanted to see where it goes. All they saw was Leslie counting down for some reason, and the more he counted, the more his body slooped on the chair.
“Ten, nine, eight. Les, you can only hear my voice.”
“Ten.. Nine.. Eight. Only your voice.”
“Seven, six, five. Only my whisper.”
“Seven.. Whisper..”
“Four, three, two, one. Focus on me.”
“..Focus.”
The dragon’s mind became clouded. He couldn’t string together a single thought. As though he was doom scrolling on an app made for short clips, the streamer’s eyes were glued to the screen of his phone. Focus. Focus. Focus. Focus.
“Let’s do it again, Les.” The voice continued. “This time, you’ll fall deeper and deeper into trance. Every number you speak, you’ll fall ten times deeper, a hundred times deeper. Count with me now, Les. Ten.”
“Ten.” Les repeated. His spirit felt as if he had fallen into a hole. Falling, falling, falling. Nothing beneath his feet but an infinite corridor of empty space, his mind gravitating towards absolute void.
“Nine. Hear me and obey. Fall into a deeper trance.”
“Nine.. Hear.. Obey.. Trance.”
“Eight. Hear me and obey.”
“Eight.” Leslie followed.
“Seven. Close your eyes. Hear me and obey.”
“Seven.” Leslie repeated, his eyes closing automatically as he heard the command.
“Six. Hear and obey, Les. Repeat my words. Hear and obey.”
“Six.. Mmm.. I hear.. And obey.”
“Five. Hear and obey.”
“Five.. Hear.. Obey.”
“Four.. Three.. Two.. One.”
“Four.. Three.. Two.. One. I hear.. And Obey.”
“Good little dergy, Les. Good little derg. Remember this trance. Remember how relaxed you feel. Remember how powerless you feel. You are an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Repeat after me, Les. You are an empty vessel. You are a blank canvas. You are nothing.”
“I am.. Empty vessel.. Blank.. Canvas.. I am.. Nothing. Les is.. A good dergy.” Leslie repeated. “Les is a.. Good dergy. Les.. is a good dergy.”