The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

‘Are you interested in knowing more?’ The deep voice asked, as soon as John held the receiver to his ear. There was a note of concern in the man’s voice.

‘Yes,’ he answered.

‘Have you told anyone else?’ The man’s deep voice asked him.

‘Just my partner,’ he answered honestly, grinning, ‘but my life is in good hands, I can assure you.’

‘We all have to live with our choices,’ the man said coldly.

A chill ran down his spine, causing him to think that the whole thing may not be a hoax or some weirdo, after all.

‘What’s it all about?’ He asked.

‘It’s about what was sent to you,’ the man said. ‘It’s all true.’

‘Assuming it is, where do I come in?’ He asked.

‘You have to write a book of fiction about it,’ the man replied.

‘How do I know it’s the truth?’ He asked. ‘Not that I don’t believe you, but you understand that I need some kind of proof?’

‘Yes,’ the man said. ‘Be at the public telephone on seventy Fifth Street at nine tonight.’

‘Okay.’

‘Come alone,’ the man warned him.

‘What about my partner?’

‘Do you think that little of her that you want her dead?’ the man said.

Another cold shiver ran down the full length of his spine.

‘I’ll come alone,’ he said.

‘Up to you, now-all warnings have been given. Whatever happens now is on your head, not mine.’

The phone went dead in his ear. He replaced it back down into the handset and leaned back in his chair to think. His heart beat a little faster and his mind was now working the same way. He believed somehow that there was something to the whole story, some truth, and that just possibly, he would live to regret the day the man had sent him the large white envelope.

Suddenly, another freezing, cold chill ran up and down his spine, causing the hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck to stand straight up with alarm. He had just realised that the man had known his partner was a ‘she’. It was at that point, he decided to tell Christie Summers, as little as possible.

It had just begun to rain when the public telephone at which he had been waiting for fifteen minutes shrilled loudly. He stepped inside the booth and shut the door, and then he picked up the receiver and listened.

‘Are you alone?’ The same deep voice asked him.

‘Yes,’ he answered, having not told Christie about the earlier phone call.

‘Corner of Manning and Seventh,’ the man said. ‘Ten minutes.’

The phone went dead in his ear. Once again a cold shiver ran up and down his spine. He hoped it was because of the rain. ‘Jesus,’ he cursed, knowing the corner of Manning and Seventh was several blocks away from where he stood at that moment. He would have to drive fast.

Nine minutes later, he’d parked the car and waited at the corner of Manning and Seventh, as instructed. He had only just looked to his right when a vehicle silently came up from his left and stopped beside where he stood. The back door half-opened. No interior light came on. He peered into the blackness inside.

‘Get in!’ A deep voice said.

It was the same voice he had listened to on the phone. John stepped down onto the road and slid into the dark interior of the large black limousine, then shut the door. The big car lurched easily forward, out into the light evening traffic. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the inky blackness. He was alone in the large, rear seat of the vehicle. In between him and the driver, whom he could not see, was a barrier. He reached forward and felt its cool, plexiglass surface, then followed that surface all the way to the floor of the car.

‘I am a former high official with a National Security Agency,’ the rich, male voice suddenly said through the vehicle’s speaker system. ‘I am here to inform you about a protocol, informally dubbed, DDT. In this application, it stands for Decoy, Distract and Trash, which is what sophisticated government intelligence operatives use to set up some person or group to take them off the trail of something real and important, then trash the person or the subject.’

John felt like he should say something, but didn’t quite know what. He was still thinking seriously about what the man had said, so far. He remained silent and said nothing.

‘The information I have been told to present to you for consideration, Mr Silverton, is, to the best of my own personal belief, true and correct, and, there is a lot of it. Please be patient with your questions until the scenario unfolds at our pace and not yours, to avoid misinterpretation on your part.’

‘Okay,’ John said, and that was all he said. But, he was thinking plenty.

‘Within all of the examples of television and mainstream movies available today, and, deliberately so, we believe-there are elements of truth you would find hard to believe if you were not watching it from within your comfort zone of knowing it was only a movie. Nevertheless, the real truth you are not wanting to know is deliberately placed within those television series and movies to highlight the lies that you are expecting will deceive you and influence your beliefs about extraterrestrial life on this planet.’

John’s eyebrows arched to the top of his head then slowly made their way back down again. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew one thing for sure-he was a captive audience, right then. He decided, for the moment, to remain silent and just listen.

‘The public relations firms responsible for the pre-release hype of certain movies and television shows are generally pretending to spend very large sums of money moving the UFO subject front-stage and centre—by linking genuine UFO witnesses and evidence in commercial undertakings, the ultimate decoy, disinformation and trashing programs can easily be achieved.’

John sat silently, a little stunned, and, not a little alarmed.

‘It is not just the hijacking and trashing of serious witnesses and evidence into the silly season of “Honey, I just had sex with aliens,” routine; it is the association of important and truthful evidence, scientists and witnesses with xenophobic-titled science fiction products, as well as the entire abduction industry, that can empower real fear in the minds of the masses, regarding all things extraterrestrial.

John was beginning to experience a little of that real fear as he sat and continued to remain silent, as asked.

‘You may or may not recall, Mr Silverton, that no less a figure than Wernher Von Braun warned to his personal spokesperson Dr. Carol Rosin in 1974, that, after the cold war, those operating behind the scenes would plan to roll out global terrorism, and then, finally, a hoaxed alien threat from outer space.’

John tried to recall ever having heard the doctor’s name, but found nothing in his mental search.

‘Why?’ The man went on. ‘Well, a xenophobic and hysterical take on visitors from outer space, so well represented by military hoaxed abductions, which have been made to look ‘alien’, would have something for everyone who enjoys secret power and control: For the military-industrial-drug-laboratory-intelligence-corporate complex, there would be trillions of dollars in lucrative spending for government space programs-supported by the public’s misinformed knowledge that there was a real enemy to fight.’

John was beginning to try and puzzle where the man might be going with his wild story.

‘For schemers wishing to unite the world in militarism and control through fear and trauma, as opposed to our common humanity and peace,’ the man continued, ‘what better way to attain this goal than to roll out serious UFO evidence and link it to a body of hoaxed, faux-alien encounters contained within the abduction sub-culture? People are easily herded, Mr Silverton-and controlled – mind-controlled. As a journalist, I am sure you are very aware of that fact.’

John felt the instant wave of guilt wash over him because of his profession. It wasn’t the first time in his career that he had felt it.

‘Through fear and trauma, Mr Silverton,’ the man went on, ‘can there be anything even scarier to the general public than evil aliens floating poor, abducting innocent humans onto UFOs to torture and sexually abuse them? Right?’

John felt his head nod gently in agreement, but he said nothing to support that subconscious action on his part.

‘For misguided religious fanatics and secret religious cults, Mr Silverton,’ the man continued, ‘who pine for the long-awaited end-of-the-world, Armageddon scenario-what better fulfilment of their misinterpreted prophecy than a final great battle in space?

All John could do was to shrug his shoulders. Appropriate words were just not forthcoming—right then.

‘There is just something for everyone in his or her programs, if, you can manipulate them, mind-control them, or simply deceptively or covertly influence people to buy them.’ the man said then. ‘But how? I’ll tell you. All good disinformation has some degree of real, true information contained within it. The mixing of truth with lies makes the lies much more believable, in fact, incredibly so. So, by hoaxing a scary alien abduction scenario with serious data, evidence, documents and witnesses, the lie goes down so much more smoothly.’

Again, John wondered where it was all going. It wasn’t the first time someone put an alien story to him.

‘Those inside the multi-million dollar abduction industry, Mr Silverton, have, for years, told us in selected government of suppressed testimony from abductees who recall human military operatives running the show; essentially controlling the event. Dr. Helmut Lammer and others have documented this hideous abuse of civilians by rogue military or government covert operations. Most importantly, we have interviewed military and corporate insiders who have described in excruciating detail how they have hoaxed these “alien abductions,” and why.’

Again, John wondered about his personal safety.

‘The truth, Mr Silverton,’ the man said then, ‘which, we hope, is what you are all about, is hidden in plain sight, but it is wrapped in so much deception that it is seldom seen, especially by the general public it is aimed at deceiving. One such military operative explained to us how his team had abducted key military people, at one point, so that they would learn to hate the aliens and get on board the covert space wars programs.’

The fine hairs on John’s forearms and the back of his neck began to prickle uncomfortably.

‘When you have billions of black-budget dollars at your disposal, Mr Silverton, reverse-engineered Alien Reproduction Vehicles that are made on Earth that look alien, as well as sophisticated mind-altering psychotronic weapon systems-hoaxing an alien abduction would be like taking candy from a baby. But, you know, Mr Silverton, the truth is so much more bizarre than fiction that who would believe it? The ‘X-files’ series that used to be seen on the tube has nothing on this lot of deception.

Again, John could only shrug his shoulders and contemplate his immediate fate.

‘By using government Chiefs of Staff and other notables, this DDT operation is now attempting to jump start Von Braun’s long-ago predicted hoaxed alien threat. What could be more terrifying, Mr Silverton, than linking real ET and UFO evidence and serious military and government testimony, with a xenophobic-titled science fiction product?’

Strangely, John felt himself nodding gently, in agreement, but still the fine hairs on his body were prickling.

‘Perhaps all the other virulent and fearsome hoaxed experiences purveyed by the abduction industry might be, but I doubt it. So, a great DDT program it is, indeed.’

John nodded, then immediately wondered why. He just wanted to get out of the big car in one piece.

‘I do not know if other authors know of any of this, Mr Silverton,’ the man said, sounding a little tired, ‘but in most cases, most players in a DDT disinformation scheme are unwitting victims themselves. Let’s hope they are. But, with power comes responsibility and because some famous authors have plenty of money and power, they need to do their due diligence, lest they be used by a DDT scheme created to ramp up covert space programs and ultimately, Armageddon. We worry now, Mr Silverton that they are, perhaps, unwittingly being used to unleash the worst holocaust the Earth has ever seen.’

Suddenly, a small light came on above John’s head. Immediately, he became startled and stared wildly at the figure sitting opposite him, but it was only his reflection in the mirrored surface of the barrier that separated the driver’s seat from the rear of the car. He sighed, feeling instantly relieved.

‘Look in the pouch in front of you,’ the man’s deep voice told him over the intercom that came from the same direction as the small pencil light beam above his head. He reached forward into the leather pocket and withdrew two typed A4 pages, then settled back into the comfortable leather seat.

‘Read them,’ the voice said, as the car took a left turn in the road.

John squinted in the poor light, but found he was easily able to read the bold typeface on the two pages. After reading the contents once, he read them again. He read them a third time and then a fourth. Halfway through reading them for the fifth time, the pencil light beam emanating from above his head, suddenly extinguished, plunging the rear of the car once more into the inky blackness it had been in, prior, but in his mind the information still read brightly. He recalled it again; as the car took a long, right turn then climbed a steep hill.

Again, the now-familiar chill ran up and down his spine. The contents were a summary of the current status and professional military and government qualifications, as well as the testimonial evidence of people who were involved in an Australian operation called: ‘The Merino Apotheosis Project.’ No names had been mentioned, however, as to reveal the people’s actual identities.

‘Consider this, Mr Silverton.’ the man’s tired voice suddenly said through the speaker system. ‘One scenario for disclosure to the general world public is that the UFO and extraterrestrial subject is acknowledged in a way, which is scientific and hopeful; excessive secrecy, which lacks executive branch and congressional oversight is ended and humanity begins to entertain open contact with other civilisations, with peaceful engagement, as the goal.’

John remained silent.

‘Technologies, Mr Silverton, which are currently suppressed, are disseminated, and pollution ends as an economy of abundance. And social justice is firmly established. Global environmental destruction and mind-numbing world poverty become a faint memory. And, zero-point energy devices transform the world.’

The hairs on John’s arms and neck prickled uncomfortably.

‘Electro-gravity devices will permit above ground travel, without paving over the world’s precious fertile farmland. This is the disclosure which we are working for, Mr Silverton.’

Thirty minutes later, as best John could estimate the passage of time, since the overhead light had suddenly been turned off, the big car slowly came to a halt. He had tried to keep track of the road directions and the various turns and hills, but with the reading of the document’s contents, he’d found it impossible to concentrate on anything, other than the words on the pages he had read.

‘Just as there are good and not so good human beings here on earth,’ the man’s voice said tiredly, ‘there are also good and not so good extraterrestrials, but both exist. Please remember that, in the coming days. It’s a New World, Mr Silverton, if you can take it. Now, get out,’ the man’s voice told him, abruptly.

‘What?’

‘I’ll contact you.’

The door suddenly clicked and sprung ajar. Astounded, John got out of the vehicle. Immediately, it sped off into the night while he stood there, scratching his head and wondering if it had all been a nightmare, from which he would awaken at any moment. He pinched himself on the arm. It hurt. He gazed around. He was back where he started.