The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“.....and in conclusion, unless within two days you remove from your site all the above listed works, which are, I repeat, copyright, I shall take whatever steps are necessary to remove your site from the World Wide Web and your business from existence. I remain, sir, Yours Faithfully Boris Ludmenkov.... Is this guy running for Champion Pompous Jackass Of All Time or what?”

“He’s going to do what,exactly, Leon?”

“Remove our business from existence, he says, Boss.”

“I’d like to see him even begin to try. We’re not only connected (and I don’t mean to the Net) we’re also impossible to find. It’s pathetic, these author types, they get delusions of grandeur. They write these stories and they think that makes them somebody. Hell, some of them think it makes them Superman! Ah, well, enough jollies. Just delete the message and let’s get on with some work around here.”

“Sure thing.” All the work in their little office got done by Leon. He was the working brains behind half a dozen sites that provided porno-pictures and other fleshy internet entertainment. He had only recently moved the company into text only sites after convincing Boss that not only were there people out there who got off on something as difficult as reading but there were people who would provide the content for free and be unable to do anything about insisting they get paid for it.

Not only that but their letters of protest when they found out about the unauthorised publication gave Boss and Leon their best laughs of the day.

Leon reached for the DEL button. But before he pressed it he stopped, went back to the message from the author and completed the quite lengthy and exhaustive questionnaire in the second part of the e-mail and sent it back. And then he forgot he had done so.

Two days later.....

“Did you order these tee-shirts, Leon?”

“No boss. Came free. See here’s the letter.”

“Lessee, blah blah sample of our new line of promotional wear.... Promote your business.... Call our free number or e-mail us for details of how to put your company’s logo on our range of leisure wear.... Yeah, like I’m going to put www.freepornforU.com on a tee-shirt. Like anyone’s going to wear it!”

“People wear weirder things, boss. Especially in New York. Anyway the design on the ones they sent us is nice. Sort of.... ornate....” It was a swirling fractal pattern that seemed almost to have writing in it if you looked hard enough. The material was some sort of shiny synthetic that felt soft to the touch.

“Yeah, well.... I suppose.... Yeah, maybe I’ll take some with me tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“My weekly poker game with my boss, Leon.”

“Oh, yeah.... Uh, mind if I take one?”

“Sure, there’s enough for everyone......”

Leon slipped away to the john in his tee break and put his free tee shirt on. The material felt strangely soft and comforting against his skin.

Leon worked hard all afternoon. He was the technical guy, Boss was more of an ideas man. (And a connection-to-the-mob man and a collect-the-money guy.) When Boss left at six he was already wearing his free tee-shirt. Leon kept on working.

And when he finally stopped about seven, he was suddenly aware he was late for supper with his girl friend, Tori. He was just reaching for his mobile to give her a call when he stopped at the sound of a very sexy (but synthetic) female voice announcing >>YOU’VE GOT MAIL<<

The message went like this:

Dear Leon,

I hope you won’t mind me calling you that. I know we’re going to get to know each other better real soon now but for reasons that will become obvious, I won’t be calling you Leon. In fact no body will any more, so I thought I’d use the name one last time. Colour me sentimental.

I said I was going to take steps, didn’t I? You and your shoddy little operation can’t complain that I didn’t give you fair warning. You stole my creations and used them without permission and sat back smugly behind the barriers of legal uncertainty and expense, the anonymity the Web gives everyone and your supposed protectors in the Outfit. You’re about to discover how little protection that gives.

Some of us, Leon, find things out when we research and write stories. You’d be surprised I found out that there really are people out in the world who have the sort of powers I used to give the protagonists of my stories. And they thought that I was one of them or at least really knew about them. That’s flattering, as you can imagine. They said they either had to recruit me or kill me. Luckily for me, some of them appreciated good writing. I’ve been a bit busy since my last story was published, Leon. Still creating, still being an artist. Just in a different medium.

When I heard that your nasty little operation was using my children (you’ll forgive an author a little hyperbole, won’t you Leon) I’m afraid I got a little upset. I gave you a chance to be a good boy, Leon. But you disappointed me. And you’ve forced me to take steps. I’ve found that I can imprint the commands that change people, change them in mind and body in just about any object. This time it’s been tee-shirts.

You’ll be remembering now just what it is that you spent the afternoon doing. How you set up the computers there to erase themselves completely, how you sent e-mails to the landlord and the utilities say that you were closing down and the people you lease the computers and the furniture from to come and collect them in the morning. (Remember to leave the key with the super when you go, Leon.)

And when you get up from your chair, you’ll be shutting them down and disconnecting them from the Net before going, won’t you? Good lad. That will be the first part of ending your career of crime over: getting your site off the Web.

The second part is going to be rather more upsetting for you, Leon. But if at any time in the next few weeks, as you adjust to the changes you’ll be going through, you feel a little hard done by, I’d like you to remember this: At least you’re not your Boss.

His life is going to be a living Hell and so it the life of his Friends In The Organisation. Actually, they’re none of them that important in that particular merry band. They are about to become both less and more important. None of them will be able to resist taking one of my special tee-shirts and wearing it for long enough for the curse imprinted in it to take effect.

The first part is that they all will be going into the nearest police station they can find tomorrow and confessing to every last illegal act they have ever committed. They will also offer themselves as States’ Witnesses against everybody they know in the Organisation. I expect that they will have enough knowledge amongst them to do considerable damage to the East Coast Operations of the Mob.

This will of course put them on death lists. The Feds will provide protection both during and after the trials of course but I feel that I should do my bit to preserve their miserable lives. So as soon as they have no more trials to give evidence in, your Boss and all his friends will vanish. In their places will appear a group of teenage girls. Just graduated from high school. All of them orphans. Alone in the world. I was tempted to do the sort of thing that my more sadistic colleagues go in for and give them nymphomaniac personalities or make them dumb or dyslexic or submissive. But instead I’m just going to make them poor, young, female and friendless. That’s cruel enough, don’t you think?

Which brings us to you, Leon.

Ah, yes. I can’t leave you wandering around. You were the one who put this little operation together. You were the one who prostituted his intelligence and talent in the service of thievery and fraud. But I’m a Nice Chap and I’m going to give you a second chance.

You won’t be making your dinner date with your girlfriend, Leon. Which is just as well as she would have been heart broken when you finally ended things (as you always do, you bastard) when you got bored with her.

Instead you will be taking a cab to the airport. On the way, you’ll be feeling the changes begin in your body. By the time you get to the British Airways booking in desk they will be complete and your body will be that of Lena Southern, the rather nice looking young lady whose passport and tickets to the UK are waiting there. You’re going to be black (or rather African-American, or rather African-Canadian according to the passport). I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t got a Negro (to use the hopelessly old-fashioned term that I’m rather fond of) in my collection yet and you’ll do until the real thing comes along.

I won’t be doing much to remake your personality until I pick you up at the airport. So you can have about twelve hours (plus or minus depending on headwinds) of being Leon on the inside and worrying yourself silly about what I’m going to do with you. Don’t worry too much. I’m a Nice Chap as I said and I prefer happy people around me.

See you soon.

Boris Ludmenkov.

(P.S. Don’t forget to turn out the lights when you leave the office....)