The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kevin thought, Judy and Karen need me to make this work!

Somewhere out there, probably somewhere in Fort Schwarzkopf, Judy and Karen were being held captive by the Army. And only Kevin could rescue them.

If he could figure out how to work the alien hypno-gizmo, or build his own.

Kevin had earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Electrical Engineering in 1977, and he’d been interested in electronics since the 1960s. As a result, his basement had every kind of electronics in it, from a 1960s pocket transistor radio to a Dell 64-bit computer motherboard.

He also had lots of testing equipment. He didn’t have a vacuum-tube tester—that was before his time, professionally speaking—but he did have an oscilloscope and a microscope capable of eyeballing the microcircuits that were burned onto computer chips.

Kevin didn’t know if Zlarian computer chips were similar enough to Earth-made chips that he could look at them under the microscope. He hoped so, else he’d have a big problem.

By now, Kevin had a theory: The alien hypno-gizmo and its Army clone both “spoke” at a very high frequency that a human conscious mind didn’t hear, but the human’s subconscious mind heard and obeyed.

That would explain why dogs in the neighborhood were howling at times, and it would explain why Kevin was unaffected by the hypno-gizmo. Whatever ultrasonic frequency that the aliens (and the Army) were using, Kevin couldn’t hear!

He decided to test that theory. He plugged a microphone into his basement computer’s “MIC” jack, loaded up the sound-file editing software, clicked that software’s “Record” box, then pressed the gizmo’s orange Playback button.

Kevin couldn’t hear a thing. But the software-generated graphs showed him that something was being recorded—at the far-right (ultrasonic) end of the right-channel graph.

Once Kevin finished recording, he tried to use the sound-file editing software to play his recording at half-speed. But the playback at half speed just sounded weird and distorted. Duh, the sound-edit software had not been designed to handle ultrasonic frequencies.

What to do, what to do? Somehow Kevin had to bring the gizmo’s ultrasonic speech down to a frequency he could hear!

Too bad the aliens didn’t put their recording onto an LP. Then I could just rub my thumb against the turntable—

Kevin’s head whipped around. He looked at the dustcover that said “AKAI,” as he stroked his chin.

On a shelf in Kevin’s basement, under a dusty dustcover, was a Japanese-made reel-to-reel stereo tape recorder.

The very last thing that Kevin had done, before he’d left Vietnam to return to the World, was to order that tape recorder from the AAFES catalog. Other grunts in Vietnam who were “zero and a wake-up” had gotten drunk; Kevin had celebrated still being alive by buying electronics.

He hadn’t touched that tape recorder in decades, but this was about to change.

In his basement three minutes later, he had the hypno-talker’s orange button mashed down, while quarter-inch magnetic tape whizzed from one reel to the other at 7-1/2 inches per second.

Kevin recorded for one minute, stopped the machine, then rewound the tape to the beginning.

But when it came time to play back the recording, Kevin changed the speed setting to 3-3/4 inches per second. Now the magnetic tape moved at a calm and placid speed.

Kevin now could hear words: robotic, speaking slowly, but squeaky-pitched. Alas, Kevin couldn’t make out what the words said.

Kevin rewound the tape, then changed the playback speed to 1-7/8 i.p.s. The magnetic tape crawled.

Now played at one-fourth of their recorded speed, the tape-recorded words were spoken very slowly but still were very high-pitched, like a stoner who’d inhaled helium:

“The spacecraft does not interest you. The Zlarians do not interest you. What other Earthlings do with the Zlarians does not interest you. You go back into your dwelling.”

These were the same words that many of his neighbors had chanted, when they’d walked back into their houses.

It took Kevin only a few more seconds to nail down the hypno-talker’s original sound frequency, and to find out that a microphone could “hear” the hypno-talker clearly from five feet away.

Which meant that when Kevin built his own hypno-talker, his hypno-talker had to play at that same ultrasonic frequency, and be loud enough to be (subconsciously) heard at least five feet away.

Having finished discovering what the alien device would do, Kevin went to work discovering how the gizmo worked.

The alien screws were ass-backward; to get them off, he had to create a rule of “Lefty-tighty, righty-loosey.” Once Kevin got the cover off, he discovered that the small concave bulge covered up a tiny tweeter (high-frequency speaker). A small hole in the case that had puzzled Kevin turned out to be an input jack.

Kevin’s big worry had been how to figure out the mysteries of alien computer hardware and an alien operating system. Luckily, he dodged a bullet: All of the gizmo’s doings were hard-wired circuits, not software commands.

Most of the circuitry was designed so that the gizmo could be used as a simple writing tablet. Once Kevin figured out that part of the circuitry, he ignored it thereafter.

As for the circuitry within the gizmo that played back ultrasonic speech, the “form follows function” rule meant that the alien circuitry was designed the same as Earth electronics. Well, Kevin had thirty-something years working with Earth electronics circuits that created or reproduced sound.

So in less than a day of peering at the alien chips through his microscope, Kevin had uncovered their mysteries.

The hypno-talker was very simple, really (when you disregarded the writing-tablet part). The gizmo downloaded an ultrasonic sound file (in a compressed format that was the Zlarian version of an MP3 file) from the mothership. Then when a Zlarian pressed the Play button, the gizmo decompressed the sound file, converted that output to analog, and ran that analog output to the tweeter-speaker.

If you disregarded the ultrasonic part—and the whole “trying to mind-control nubile Earth women” part—the alien hypno-talker worked the same as any “press the button and I talk” doll that Wal-Mart sells.

Kevin had spent an entire day successfully uncovering the hypno-talker’s mysteries. That meant that Judy and Karen, and his other female neighbors, had been held prisoner by the Army for an entire day.

Kevin urged himself, The clock is ticking! Get this done!

Kevin had discovered what the hypno-talker did, and he’d discovered how it had been built. The last step was for him to build his own hypno-talker.

That’s when Kevin recalled something about the Army hypno-talker: it had two push-buttons, not one; and it had two speaker grilles. Kevin guessed that the second grille was a built-in microphone, and the second button was to Record.

For Kevin’s gizmo to do what the Army’s did, he would have to add a recording ability—piece of cake!—and the ability to change a voice’s playback frequency.

Kevin himself didn’t know how to do that, but he knew the task was doable. Wal-Mart, besides selling talking dolls, sold battery-operated toys that could make a ten-year-old boy sound like a pro wrestler. Or like Mickey Mouse.

A few hours of research, and he had the answer to how to change the frequency of a voice.

A few hours more, and Kevin had written a C++ program that would record in MP3 format, then play back with the voice at the same ultrasonic frequency as the alien gizmo.

Kevin made a trip to Fry’s Electronics, then did an hour of puttering in his basement. The result? Kevin had (he believed) his very own built-from-scratch hypno-talker.

Kevin celebrated his accomplishment by going upstairs to the kitchen and making himself a ham sandwich.

Now I need to test the hypno-talker I built, he thought.

He was weighing his options when his doorbell rang.