The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

HYPNOGEDDON!

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3. VERY DRAMATIC PERSONS OF INTEREST

I cannot wait for the next instalment of my special diaries.

Now, you speak again of The Teacher. Because this an erotogenic story, there must be plenty of hotfucky action. But! I take the points you make, and the Teacher must not be a mere cardboard silhouette-out! Therefore I say, The Teacher must be driven by some deep-felt early events in his life. What they are, we will work out together, my sexydarling, but now he is driven to create an army of womanbots and much more.

Yes, that’s it! He is The Teacher, and he is teaching the world in the service of a greater cause. So what is he trying to teach, that is the question you will ask…

On this note, I attach some fleshy character outlines.

Speaking of mind-masters, and world-events, I have a stunning new insight. Hear me, and do not even attempt to swerve me from the path of true-logic.

You know my other stories of Mister Master? The Millionaire Megalomaniac from Maastricht? The mendacious mind-lord of the present day, and his madly mentipulative missions? How, inexplicably, Mister Master came to me fully-formed in a dream?

There is only one possible explanation. He, Mister Master himself, must have implanted the whole thing in my mind, using mentipulation-at-a-distance. Or else how could I have come up with the idea?

And! Therefore, if he put it into my head, Mister Master must really exist, out there in the shadows, or none this could not have happened!

We must find him. Will you help me find him? Surely, by definition, he must be the most powerful mind-master of all, more powerful than Jorge, perhaps more powerful even than you. I quail to think of his power!

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Hypnogeddon!

By Lupa Proseda

List of Very Dramatic Persons of Interest:

  • Mindy: beautiful, passionate, supersexy and sultry dark heroine. Needs to have a troubled past of some sort. I will make her from South America to be more interesting.
  • George: superbly endowed but currently estranged bedpartner of Mindy, also with a troubled past.
  • Actresswoman-from-the-past: from sometime around the mid-1930s, she is accidentally transported by telemagical gadgetry from Hollywood of the period to the farflung future, wherein to make hay amongst the hypnoid hordes. A thinly veiled version of <name deleted>, do you see?
  • Wilhelm Von Erschadt: a superhightech film director of the future. He is possibly in league with The Teacher but there is different motivation. Erschadt wants pliable fuckbodies for his sextertainments, and Hypnogeddon! delivers these in carloads.
  • Chica: a particularly stupid and slutty sextomaton, who is just the same after Hypnogeddon as she was before, i.e. a total and utter whore.
  • Various robots: mainly doing all the work humans currently do, thus freeing them to concentrate on making hotfucky sextertainments. I might give some of these robots personalities!
  • The Teacher: most important character of all. Mysterious mind-mastermind, deep thinker, and devilishly goodlooking green-eyed charismatic instigator of the Hypnogeddon! event. (Note: This must be some superhightech device only available in the far-flung future.) He is seeking to teach the world some lessons, for its own good. That is why he calls himself The Teacher! Examples of the good bits of his new social order are still to be worked out, but certainly must include hotfucky submissive sex-on-demand.
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Hi Lupa

Thank you for your comments and clarifications. Attached please find the third part of this section of the diaries for your approval. Again, there a couple of questions to clear up for my understanding.

Now, two important points. Please read them, and then read them again until you are absolutely clear.

First of all, Mister Master is a fictional character, like The Teacher. Do you remember how excited you were when you came up with the Mister Master idea? You said, quote, ‘I have invented a brilliant new character’. Note the key word: ‘invented’. Do you see?

We discussed this before. Mister Master is a bit like Mister Talv, the recurring character in my own stories, except Mister Talv has a different name and is based in Tallinn. These types of character are like archetypes in the erotic fiction genre.

Second, I really want to stress again that I am not controlling your mind in any way.

Meanwhile, I will start looking again at the Hypnogeddon! synopsis in the context of the character sketches. (Note: we will need to change the name Chica to something else.)

I do have one other quite pressing question regarding the dramatis personae. Is it really feasible that your second protagonist is simply ‘accidentally transported by telemagical gadgetry’ from 1930’s Hollywood to the ‘farflung future, wherein to make hay amongst the hypnoid hordes’? Do you not think an explanation, however tenuous and handwaving, is in order? Perhaps some sort of quantum wormhole would do the trick, or maybe a Calabi-Yau machine.

Let’s think about this ‘lessons’ idea a bit more. Does The Teacher think Hypnogeddon is a force for social good, is that the general idea? I.e. not just a general sociopathic megalomaniac like Mister Master? Could be interesting…

Best wishes.
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THE (EARLY) DIARIES OF LUPEDA PROSEDA: DRAFT, PART 3

TRANS: INTERSTITIAL

Melipilla, Chile, 1990

There on the doorstep, I stare fiercely at Mr Sanchez, and then at the mysterious interloper. “Am I to be a virgin fondlefuck for you, stranger? A sucktoy for you, beyond eternity?” I look into the eyes of the mysteryman and lick slowly on my fingers then, just to emphasise the point and make sure he knows how soft and pillowy my lips are, and what a property he has acquired. His mouth drops open, and he stares at me, no doubt in anticipation of the infinitude of things he will make me do. “So be it, then—I accept.”

I burst into tears of tingling fear and excitement; the thought is overwhelming, and I know I cannot resist. My destiny at last, Lupa Proseda, fount of myth!

“And you, Mr Sanchez,” I finally manage to sob, my breasts heaving, resigned now to my inevitable fate, “my one true and original mind-master. When I am taken, and used, until my will-less body can take no more, and the cruel mind-masters discard me like a broken toy, will you still think of me? Will you still remember what we’ve shared? Will you still kiss me and cockulate me in your thoughts?”

The tall man, this stark new enigma, this uncanny new centre of my world, has his grip on Mr Sanchez’s arm now, and ushers him firmly back inside the apartment. “We will talk in a minute, Mr Sanchez.”

I gawp at the stranger’s calm authority; clearly this man is more powerful than Mr Sanchez himself. I had not thought such a thing possible! If so, he must be practically a god. Logically, he must be the true Antü. I quiver with possibilities. Mr Sanchez vanishes from my view into the living room beyond.

Now I know they will sit, and they will thrash out the terms of their diabolical contract behind closed doors, as the hidden rulers of the world have always done, and I am powerless in their implacable hands.

The man turns to me. “Young lady, this is very interesting indeed. I’m going to need your address and telephone number.” He hands me a notebook and a pen, and as if in a dream, he mentally forces me to write down my details. I hand back the notepad. My heart is jumping in my chest like an enraged tapir. What will he make me do now? Will he tauntalise me until I can bear no more, until I beg on my knees for the final blessed relief of his throbhammer? Does eternal orglivion beckon?

Oh, I do hope so…

The mystery man, the enigmatic mind-master, glances at me and says, very courteously: “Thank you, miss. I may be in touch once I’ve finished with this… gentleman. Good evening.” And then he closes the door.

I stand there for a moment, trying to take in everything that has happened. There is muffled shouting coming from inside Mr Sanchez’s apartment now, but I can’t make out the words. Shortly there is a thumping noise punctuated by strange cries, all vowels, not words at all. Of course I understand: this is the mystigical business of the powerful ones, and their supernatural abilities and arcane practices are not for the eyes and ears of mere moist-belly mind-servants. I walk home, wondering and thrilling at my future life in his hands.

Oh the future! I can hardly wait. I hope he calls tomorrow! Where will he take me? What will he do with me? What will it be like? Will it be as good as Chica Iglesias says it is? Oh, I am beside myself as I write, panticipating.

Briefly I wonder why my shadowy new master chose to disguise himself as a policeman, of all things. But such conundrums are the sole prerogatives of the mind-masters, and are certainly not to be questioned by a womanweak servant girl like me.

(END OF THIS SECTION)

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It is so beautiful, I cry tears of weeping!

  1. Very soft and pillowy, do you not remember the feeling of them? You can feel them wrapped around your pleasure-horse any time you want, my sexydarling.
  2. The fount of myth, that’s exactly right.
  3. Because my name has origins ancient and powerful. Mama told me of the Prose-Edda, the origin of all the legends of the Viking gods, written by ancient Icelandman Snorri Sturluson himself. Do you see?
  4. Yes. Many hundreds of years ago infinity-great-grandpapa took this name, this gift, fitting for us always, for we are a proud clan of storytellers, magicians, mystics, balloonists, optical illusionists, artists, poets.
  5. By the way, Chica Iglesias once told me in Latin ‘proseda’ just means ‘prostitute’, this is because she understands NOTHING and is a lying whore.
  6. The mind-masters are very difficult to spot until you feel their tentacles of telepathic control on your weakservant mind.
  7. Experience says it is always best and safest to assume they are mind-masters until proven otherwise.
  8. No, the powerful one never did call, and Mr Sanchez was away from school for quite a while.
  9. His absence was never explained to us, the students, but as you know, such inexplicable comings-and-goings are commonplace in the mysterious world of the mind-masters.
  10. I can only guess there must have been some other important transaction or world-crisis event they had to deal with, perhaps war or famine or both.

Yes, I see, about the telemagical gadgetry. So… what if The Teacher is also the inventor of the time-hole which then accidentally transplants historic actresswoman to 2999. Why does he also invent a time-travelling wormhole thing, that is the question I know you will ask? Perhaps this is his hobby?

But please, do not doubt Mister Master! He is out there, I know he is.

And! Are you now also saying he is also one and the same person as Mister Talv? The mind wheels at his contorted cunning!—how many more identities does he have?

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Hi Lupa

Very well. I see the logic of the wormhole device being tied to the main plot. But as you say, why does The Teacher crave a time machine? It sounds like he will have a lot on his plate already with the Hypnogeddon device. We can come back to this later.

I will e-publish some of the diaries today, with a few notes. If there any reviews or emails from readers I will forward them to you. Watch this space.

By the way, I had no idea quite how many diaries there are, so I may have to rethink work on a couple of other projects. Let’s stop for now, until we see some comments.

I don’t want to get into a discussion about the ‘existence’ of Mister Master right now, if that’s OK.

Best wishes.
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I scream with panticipation!

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Hi Lupa

We had quite a few emails and reviews for the diaries, which is encouraging. Attached. Please be aware that not all the reviewers were 100% positive, but that is to be expected with any significant literary endeavour: indifference is the true enemy of art…

Best wishes.
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I am crying like a wounded armadillo!!

I have seen the feedback you sent; I wish I had never looked! Caipora, pluck my eyes!

Please, tell me if you know, why is the platinum-mopped reviewer so cruel? Does she not see the tenderness and poetry in my womansoul? Does she not feel the breath of mentipulation in the very air? Could it be she does not like me? Is that even possible?

The Carpentrix review says I am annoying and make up stupid words. Then I am given no rating! Now I am called ‘loopy’! These long years I have toiled writing precious true documents of erotogenic mind-mastery, for the benefit of all my billion readers, yet still the struggle continues. First that so-called person who typed to me electronically that I was a delusional crazybitch, and now this, the detestation and ignorement of the woodworking bombshell.

However! That luscious Lupa-loather’s lambastations will never quench the fount of myth. And in Santiago there is a saying: my uncle may be sick, but the highway is green (this also is true).

I hereby dry my tears, and bask as a dolphin in the wide Sargasso warmth of my true appreciactors.

P.S. How proceeds the transeditation of my latest Hypnogeddon! synopsis? The world awaits!

P.P.S. Have you heard from ratbastard Jorge at all? I am worried Mister Master may have him in his twisted clutches!

P.P.P.S. I pine. You must come to me tonight and comfort me. I will have a new joy-thing, a burning surprise of conflagrative lust for you, my sexydarling. To whet your appetite, here is what I wrote in my diaries of our last wonderful adventure together.

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THE DIARIES OF LUPEDA PROSEDA

Last week

O diary! Shadowed in darkness, he mentipulates me from afar. And last night the writer came to me. Last night, in the hotfucky darkness of my bedroom, the mind-master instructs me with detailed desirograms, and on my knees I fill my mouth with him. All I want to do is suckulate him to infinity. He has made me his perma-whore; there is no other thought but that.

Where has my self gone? Do I even exist? Sometimes I feel like a mere artefact of his mind, his creation to be toyed with as he wishes…

I feel the tentacles of his control embrace me. I am awash with the primal woman-instinct, unstoppable floods of it. Transfixed under his gaze, my breasts swell for him, heaving, responding with life and a mind of their own.

And then he takes what is his by right. He thrusts himself into my pliant wetbody until I scream. As he uses me as his plaything, I palpitate, helpless to escape his magnetism. O pleasure intolerable! I am lost! Now I feel my woman-weak mind moaning to obey, obey, obey him!

This morning my mouth muscles ache from effort, and I am filled with nipplestiffened lust.

(Also I have some fantastical ideas for new scenes as a result.)

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Hi Lupa

My advice is try not to take any reviews too personally, and please don’t do anything precipitous like you did the last time. As you say, you have plenty of other ‘appreciactors’. Please, concentrate on all the nice emails. And before you ask, yes, people are laughing with you, not at you.

I heard from Jorge yesterday as it happens. He’s making a decent recovery, although he still has flashbacks and night sweats. He says ‘hello’, but he did ask me not to pass on his new number for now. I think he just needs a period of peace and quiet for a while.

Mister Master has not captured Jorge. Remember, Mister Master is a fictional character. There is no such person in real life. You made him up.

That is quite an… interesting diary entry. All right, you win. I will call you later. We can meet up for a few drinks, if you like, and then who knows?

Best wishes
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