The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Oh wow,” said Hello, My Name is Sherry Starlight after trying the demonstration. “I remember every line. Did you make this?”

The “this” she referred to consisted of one twenty-three inch widescreen LCD monitor rapidly scrolling a large amount of text and two smaller screens, one on either side, displaying some sort of arcane diagnostic information. Miss Starlight had just spent the last few minutes sitting in a cheap metal chair watching “The Taming of the Shrew” drift by with Kate’s lines highlighted in a fluorescent green. Three minutes on the outside and she had the whole play memorized. It taught her one of William Shakespeare’s masterpieces in less than three minutes, and her amazement was obvious.

“Yes ma’am,” replied Freddie Campbell (BSc), completely oblivious to Miss Starlight’s amazement. “The Injective Teleprompter was supposed to be the basis for my master’s thesis: ‘The Use of Computers in the Facilitation of Memory Enhancement’. It got rejected though.”

Freddie looked out of place in an adult film convention. He stood a bit over average height, his dark hair overly combed, but unstyled, and looking completely normal in a sweater and a pair of blue dress pants. Looking normal was the problem. Normal did not fit well in an environment of people wearing next to nothing, fetish clothing, or ritzy Italian suits with little in between. He was not a movie star, Freddie knew that. He couldn’t lie with a straight face, and his sort of archetype, the scientist, was only handsome after you shaved the beard or took his glasses off. Freddie didn’t need glasses and kept himself cleanly shaven, mostly for convenience.

“Master’s thesis? You’re kidding!” burst the faux blonde, silicon-enhanced bombshell. “This thing ought to be worth a PhD, and it got rejected? What happened?”

Sherry Starlight fit in to the surroundings far better. She wore a skirt that would have looked business-like if it ended a foot closer to the knees and a sports jacket that would have looked business-like had it not been designed to be worn without a shirt. She did have a very eye catching tie Freddie thought, but it was better not to think about it because it tended to cause the eyes to drift elsewhere, and that would not have been polite.

“Thanks!” said Freddie. “I dunno what happened really. I thought the prompter was pretty neat and would make a great study aid, but Mr. Haywood, my advisor, said that it was unworkable. I tried to show him that the prototype was functional, but he was always too busy for a demonstration. I need to recover some of the investment to continue my studies, so here I am.”

“Here” was a place Freddie had never expected to be. After spending a day encoding some plays of William Shakespeare into the teleprompter, and making certain that it worked with the help of the aspiring actress who’d been providing tuna casseroles, he burned part of his tuition on airfare to LA to attend a film expo. It was important, he felt, to meet his target market and interest them in his project by demonstrating it in their environment.

When he finally stopped to look at his convention package he was horrified at the film genre of the convention in which he’d ignorantly enrolled. So instead Freddie tried two production companies and a studio before the stinging rebuke he received at the studio convinced him to try an alternative market. For Freddie it didn’t get much more alternative than the likes of Sherry Starlight.

The convention and trade center was nice, modern, and clean, and the fellow exhibitors, despite their eccentric attire, didn’t seem to be as dirty as he had expected. The people around him seemed nice enough regardless of how they earned a living. It wasn’t all that different from any other trade show he’d visited, really. Normally he’d have been attending the keynotes though and not selling anything, except perhaps his self by handing out resumes. He wasn’t selling much here either; his exhibit had been buried in the back, far away from the major goings-on. Miss Starlight and her partner, Liza Rupert, were the only people so far that had spent any amount of time talking with him, and Miss Starlight had been the only person to try the prompter out. She seemed to be interested and would have been a nice lady—if she didn’t intimidate the hell out of him.

“Let me guess,” Sherry Stewart—Starlight being a trade name less real than her breasts, but not by much—said in a conspiratorial tone. “He wanted you to work on one of the research topics he was trying to get funding for, right?”

“Well, yeah. He was sort of pushing ‘Artificially Aware Ontology’s as Applied to Bio-Medical Informatics.’ How’d you know?”

“I may look like just another pretty face Mr. Campbell, but I double majored in psychology and business administration. I know all about how colleges work,” explained Sherry. “Don’t look so shocked. I sort of started in this business just to pay off the student loans, but it really took off. Now I’d have to cure cancer to get the kind of returns I can get for a few weeks work.

“So you’re selling the prompter? Why? I always figured a rejected science guy would head off to prove the academic community wrong by taking over the world.”

“Take over the world?” laughed Freddie. “That’s funny Miss Starlight. I wouldn’t know where to start running a whole planet. Looking after my ant farm is more than enough.

“No, I got the idea for the prompter by watching people’s eyes moving while reading the news. I thought it was pretty neat, but when Mr. Haywood turned the project down I figured that people in Hollywood needed to memorize stuff fast just like students. And I really needed money to cover tuition that I sunk into the prototype, so here I am. Didn’t really expect this though. I figured an adult film expo would be about independent film.”

“Oh, we can be pretty independent at times. But I can, uh, see the possibility for confusion,” lied Sherry while her partner, director, and photographic maestro Liza covered her laughter by taking a picture. ‘Didn’t know adult film was a polite way to say Porn? Doesn’t this goof ever even surf the web? He’s a moron. No, he’s no idiot—this thing really works.’

“After watching that thing for three minutes I could go on stage and actually play Kate. How does this thing work?”

“It’s really easy ma’am. It operates on simple application to the principles of...,” Freddy began. And kept going. And going.

‘Blah blah blah Blah blah BLAH. Jesus. Shut up buddy,’ thought Sherry after a barrage of non-stop geek techno babble. ‘He’s worse than Liza and her fixation on lighting and lenses.’

This thing was interesting and all, but she was about to cut and run. Then Freddie said something that made her brain perk up.

“Uh, wait. What was that about taking on role behavior?”

“Well part of the hypothesis is in using to prompter to engineer widespread behavioral changes to facilitate a role in an actor—make them act more naturally by sort of becoming the character for a while. That was only in the experimental stages. I never really tried it out under proper conditions—No money.”

‘Holy shit!’ Sherry’s eyes widened. This had some serious potential, so she switched to her sweet, but sexy voice. “Listen, Doctor Campbell—”

“uh, j-just Freddie ma’am. I haven’t earned myself a doctorate yet.”

“Freddie, this thing is amazing. Your adviser—computer science, right? He’s a moron. He doesn’t see what you have here. If you took this thing over to the psychology department they’d be wetting themselves with glee.” She wasn’t about to tell him that his budget problems would also be over. That would be a deal killer, and she wanted to see just what sort of a deal she could get out of this thing.

“What?” asked a startled Freddie. “Psychology? But it’s a teleprompter. Why’d they want it?”

“What you have here, Freddie,” said Miss Starlight, trying not to sound condescending, “is the holy grail of behavioral research. If it can do what you say, then a psychiatrist could almost instantly correct flaws in a person’s personality. The applications in crime prevention alone....”

“Hey, that’s right!” enthused Freddie, his eyes lighting up at the thought of aiding a noble cause. “You’d really have to be careful though. One mistake—”

“But you could fix the mistake. Immediately,” cooed Sherry as started to plant seeds. “Take my PA, Tracy, as an example. Most of the time she’s miserable because she worries so much about the kind of work we do, but she’s good at it. She’s so organized I couldn’t work without her. I mean, she’s an excellent PA and all, but she’s just doing the grind until a better job comes along. Well, she’s been working for me for the past three years and nothing has.

“I think her problem is that she’s a bit of a square. In this job, you have to loosen up a bit or you’ll go nuts. I just want her to relax a bit and enjoy the work. Right now she’ll be hiding out in the back hall near the phones because the other girls here intimidate her, but she’d be fine if she was a bit less uptight about all this. Really, all I want for her is to enjoy being...herself. You’d be doing her a favor—helping her relax would really improve her career. Using your prompter to straighten out Tracy would be like using it to get people to stop smoking.”

“Help people stop smoking,” pondered Freddie. “I never thought of it as a psychological aid, I mean the prompter was just a project for grad school. I sort of thought that maybe when I finished it could be used for teaching.”

‘Oh, it’ll be teaching alright,’ thought Sherry as she started to get down to business. Vamping and gentle prodding didn’t seem to be working so well on this doofus, so she switched over to money. Everybody wants more money. “Listen, you help me help my sister out, and I’ll help you get a good price for this thing. I know people who would pay a fortune for this thing.”

“Uh. Okay, I guess. Tracy’s your sister?”

“Ah, no. That was just a figure of speech, Freddie.

“You said this works by adding subcontextual layers to existing and recognizable materials. Ok, if I have this right layer one is the script. It’s visible and anyone can read it. Layer two is the subliminal script that the user really learns from, and it’s hidden inside the first layer. Layer three is mixed between the two and facilitates absorbing the content layers more efficiently.

“So if we want to insert some hints to help Tracy we embed the new context in the second layer?”

“Uh, no actually. Not necessarily. I designed this to support any number of layers. I found three layers was all you needed for general purpose text, but when you have different simultaneous streams of information it’s better to use another layer. Plus, if we put the additional instructions in layer 4, I won’t have to rewrite layer 2 again when we’re done helping your friend.”

‘I got him.’ Sherry tried to keep from smirking, but even she had to admit she wasn’t a very good actress. Her talents ran in other directions; about four not exactly subtly augmented inches straight forward to be exact. Four inches of talent she presented for Freddie’s inspection to keep his eyes away from the spreading grin. “Great. Layer 4. So how do I make a new layer, Freddie?”

“Oh. Uh lemme see that for a minute.” Freddie leaned over Sherry, too interested in what he was doing to grab more than a subconscious glimpse down her cleavage, to take the keyboard.

‘Men. Always have to do it themselves. Just like they always have to see the girls moan and wiggle because they did that.’

After a few moments of typing he straightened back up. “All set. Just type here and hit alt F7 once you have finished a context. The software will mix it appropriately at run time.”

Don’t feel ashamed making adult films. It is just another market, typed Sherry.

“Um. That won’t work very well Miss Starlight.”

“Sherry.”

“Uh, Sherry. It’s better if you tell readers to think something for themselves. May I?” Freddie gestured to the keyboard. “I can type faster. Just tell me what you want.”

“Ooooh kay! Work it for me baby.” Sherry ran a finger up Freddie’s back and pressed one of her best talents into him as she slid keyboard over.

‘Finally got a response,’ she thought as Freddie went red in the face. ‘Started to worry that the guy was dead. Either he’s oblivious or he’s seriously repressed. Either way, he’s going to be a cake walk to manipulate. If the widget works out right I’ll pay him off myself. Oh hey. I’ll just have sit him down in front of the prompter when it’s set up right and he’ll go away on his own. Or maybe I can use him for something else—maybe he can figure out how to put this stuff in my movies. I’ll have to think about this.

‘No sense burning the bridge before I have to.’

Freddie typed, and You don’t feel ashamed making adult films. You are helping fill a market. came up on one of the smaller display panels.

“And it’s always best to finish with some sort of positive reinforcement so, You enjoy your work,” Freddie said as he typed it in. “What’s next?”

“How much can we fit in?”

“Quite a bit if you have a long script. I packed in all of Taming of the Shrew but it’s best to keep it concise and allow it more time for repetition.”

“OK, Type this: ‘You think working in adult films is fun’.

“’You’d like to be in front of the camera more’. Relax,” Sherry said when Freddie stopped typing and looked at her puzzled. “Sometimes we have to use Tracy as an extra, but she’s always so wooden. Don’t worry. We aren’t going to have her film hardcore scenes—that’s my job.

“And you can’t be uptight about sex in this business so type ‘Relax, people having sex is ok. Enjoy it’.”

Freddie reworded Sherry’s request to You will relax your objections to people having sex. You think sex is ok. You enjoy sex.

“That’ll be great, now could you be a dear...,” Sherry said, smiling as she read what Freddie typed before sending him off to get Tracy from her hiding place. Once Freddie was gone, Sherry took the keyboard, moved the run time up a minute, and began to make a few extra special additions to the programming that would get Tracy to really enjoy her new, expanded job description.

‘So... she wants to be an artist,’ thought Sherry. ‘Let’s play on that a little.’

Being sexy is an art. You love teasing people with your body and showing it off, because it is fun and exciting and makes you extremely horny. The more attention you attract, the hornier you get.

You think sex is art. It is more important to you than painting and drawing. You love making sexy art like movies and pictures.

When you are making art, you have no inhibitions. You will do anything to make the art sexier.

‘Now to get her into the right mood....’

You love cock. Seeing hard, swollen cock makes you wet, makes you want it in you. Bulging pants are enough to make you very horny.

Your body is very sexually sensitive. Even casual touching turns you on, and your erogenous zones burn with pleasure when caressed.

You need sex to be wild, passionate and active. You don’t think, you feel when you are aroused. The hornier you get, the louder and wilder you get.

You like to experiment sexually. You want to ride men and to be fucked from behind. You will do anything to cum or bring off your lover.

You love to suck cock, and you love the taste of cum. The deeper you swallow a cock, the better it feels.

‘She’ll be having a party every day at work, but we’ll need to get some work out of her so....’

No matter how horny or out of control you get, you are always open to direction or suggestions from Sherry, the photographer, or the director.

‘And to turn her into a model employee, a little something for me.’

You love looking at sexy women and fantasizing about making love to them. Tits, round, firm asses, and pussy make you as horny as cock does.

You will become very interested trying out your fantasies. When you think of something sexy, you will want to do it as soon as possible.

‘Finally, I always said you’d just loooove anal if you tried it. Now you will.’

You love anal sex. You know that only thing that feels better than a cock in your mouth or pussy is a cock in your ass.

Sherry typed as fast as she could with her nails, stopping to check her spelling on inhibitions, before she repeated Freddie’s steps for preparing the programming. She reread her instructions and smiled over the last one. Tracy was going to love her new outlook as a pornographic artist.

“What did you just do Sherry?” asked Liza, pulling her attention and camera away from a big titted blond.

“Just seeing about giving us our big break into mainstream film-you want to make this shit for the rest of your life?” Sherry replied tapping a few final keys.

‘Well..., yeah actually,’ thought Liza while reading over the programming. “Jesus, Isn’t some of that laying it on a bit thick?”

“I don’t expect this to really be all that effective—it’s just a prototype. Besides if it’s too much I’ll turn it back down again later. You just distract the nerd while it runs on Tracy, and I’ll take care of any problems afterwards.

“Think of it this way, if it doesn’t work, we lose nothing. If it does work, the girl you’ve wanted in front of your camera ever since we interviewed her will do a lot more than pose. If it does everything the geek says it can do, we get her to slap in some implants and bingo. We have our new main attraction, and I can concentrate getting us enough money to make real movies.”

Freddie wandered, not needing to try very hard to not ogle all of the beautiful women around him. He was working. He had to sell the Teleprompter if he wanted to be able to eat next semester, and to make the sale he needed to find Tracy Roberts the PA.

She was right where Sherry said she’d be, hiding in the back near the phones, and Miss Starlight was right: Tracy looked uncomfortable and desperately unhappy. In her miserable condition, Tracy, while far better looking than her boss, was not nearly as intimidating.

Freddie figured that Tracy stood about five-eight when she wasn’t slouching and, other than being taller, she had a lot in common with his dancing instructor. Idly Freddie wondered if Tracy danced. Freddie danced.

The PA was slender and probably spent a lot of time on sports, hiking and habitual exercise. She was as tastefully dressed as anyone in a miniskirt and something more vest than blouse could be, and she would have carried off the look if she didn’t seem so disgusted with it. All the same, she was carefully groomed and modestly well endowed. The only imperfection Freddy could see being exhaustion’s effects on her eyes, something that Freddie was all too familiar with himself. But this slight damage proved to be the marring that took her from being another impossible fantasy goddess and made her real life approachable.

Freddie had a rare sexual thought and suppressed it as a new theorem came to mind: Sexy and beauty were very different concepts. Sherry Starlight was sexy, but too much so to be beautiful. Frankly, she was frightening. Tracy was beautiful and, at the moment, not very sexy. He wanted to spend more time pondering this apparent contradiction between the reality of beauty and sexy and the way he always saw them being portrayed in the movies, but Freddie simply jotted the research topic in a small ring pad and stayed on the matter at hand. He looked again at her frowning face and jotted another note, this one not really related to anything.

‘One smile would really make our day,’ Freddie’s sexually confused subconscious said to an almost deaf conscious.

“Excuse me ma’am? Miss Roberts? Miss Starlight wanted me to find you.”

“Oh god. This isn’t more pictures is it? Are you another producer?” Tracy looked over her new assailant. ‘No. Probably some sort of writer. He’s staring at a notebook instead of sizing me up like a slab of meat.’

“No.” The guy recoiled slightly from the venom in her words. Tracy almost felt sorry for the guy—he looked as out of place here as she felt. “Uh, I’m a, uh, scientist. I’m trying to interest Miss Starlight in a project I’ve been working on, and she wants you to look at it first.”

‘Huh. He ‘is’ looking a bit and trying to hide it behind his book. Not too bad looking himself though—sort of like Jughead without the hat,’ thought Tracy before continuing. “A scientist? You look pretty, ummm, casual.”

“My suit got wrecked when I folded it up and put it in with my luggage. There has to be a better way to take care of that.” The self-proclaimed scientist scribbled something in his notebook. “I didn’t have time to get it pressed again because I came into town late.”

“Um. Try using a garment bag? No, I meant casual for a for a computer geek. Where are the suspenders and glasses?”

“Like Steve Urkel? It’s pretty hard to look like that these days—Dr. Wisenheimer of Yale wrote a paper on it early last April, and he says that lack of accessible attire is the number one cause of the decline of nerd stocks in the wild. I tested his hypothesis once in a shopping mall, and I think he’s right. It’s almost impossible to walk into Wal-Mart and come out looking like a traditional nerd.”

This time it was Tracy’s turn to be taken aback. ‘What the hell? Either he’s a better actor than Sherry usually hires or he really is a scientist. Did he just tell me off, make a joke or does he believe that stuff?

‘Who is he really?’

“No. I’m, I’m sorry. I’m Tracy Roberts. I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just this has been a long day—a long week.” Tracy stopped and thought. ‘One long month and eight days. Life has been hell since Sherry hired me.’

“It was supposed to be my day off. I was going to do some painting and go out dancing, but I gotta be here instead in case I’m needed. Um. Who are you?”

“I dance!” the well dressed nerd blurted. “Mother had me take dance lessons to get out and meet girls, and now here I am.” He gestured around goofily and grinned. “I don’t think this place is what she wanted. Lots of, uh, girls though.”

“Oh lord. I know what you mean—my mom would have a fit if she knew what I was doing for a living. You mean to tell me you take dancing lessons?”

“I kind of give them these days—have to pay for school, but I like dancing because it gives me time to think and it’s good exercise. In fact that was one of the reasons for the Mutiny on the Bounty...”

A conversation started, albeit rather one sided in Freddie’s favor. He was not a sleazy porno freak. He was refreshingly honest, modest, and polite. He was able to hold a conversation about something intelligent, even if she had no idea what he was talking about sometimes. Ultimately, though, it was because Freddie was the first person she’d talked to in the past month and a bit she’d lived in this ‘stupid city’ that danced standing up that he managed to interest Tracy.

‘Come on girl, it’s not like this is going to last long. He’s so not my type and he lives in Wisconsin,’ said the logical Tracy brain. ‘You know where he lives, the name of his cat, and his fricking favorite color already, and you still haven’t gotten his name, Tracy.’

‘But he’s more my type than anyone I’ve talked to since moving to LA,’ interjects the bored artist Tracy brain. “So, do you have a name or can I just call you Urkel White?”

“Oh. Sorry. Freddie Campbell.” He shot a hand out, paused for a moment, then offered a handshake. “That Urkel White thing you said was pretty funny you know. The actor’s name was Jaleel—”

“Jaleel White. I know,” Tracy said, shaking Freddie’s hand and finally really getting into the conversation. “Tracy Roberts, but you knew that already.”

‘Yeah, it’s been non stop,’ rebutted logical Tracy. ‘Work all day and paint through most of the night. Add in the gym and I haven’t had any time to meet anyone or do anything—I swear Sherry likes it that way. It’s like boot camp or something.’

‘Going out and doing something normal like dancing is exactly what I need right now,’ replied artist Tracy. ‘And as soon as I can get away from here, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Just take Freddie out to have a little fun. Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like I’m going to strip and rape him like one of those stupid sex starved bimbos in the movies Sherry makes. That I’m making.’ Tracy finally smiled at the thought of Sherry trying to get Freddie to shut up long enough to screw him.

Then she spotted Miss Stewart waving them over, and the smile died.

As Tracy and Freddie come into her view Sherry Stewart noted the vanishing smile.

‘You have got to be kidding. Geeks are what it takes to turn her on? Freddie might be worth keeping around for that alone. I can easily control Freddie, and if I can use him to get a better hold over Tracy.... This might be easier that I thought.’

When Tracy and Freddie reached Freddie’s stand, Sherry leapt into action.

“You have got to see what Freddie has here. It’s amazing. It’s a memory tool for remembering lines, and if it works on you I’m going to buy one for the company. Sit down here and start reading what you see on the screen.”

‘AH! Cold. Stupid fucking miniskirt.’ thought Tracy as her boss pushed her down into a cheap metal chair ‘God damn it, you bitch. And that creepy lez Liza is taking pictures of me again. Dressed like this.’

‘Oh, you have to look tastefully cheap at the trade shows, Tracy,’ Tracy mentally mocked, ‘it’s the business. You have to test the mad scientist’s invention for us, Tracy. You should model for us Tracy; you’re wasting a lovely body. Oh, you’d love it up the ass Tracy, it feels so deliciously naughty. Go get more condoms Tracy, the big ones.’

‘Doesn’t that guy have a big cock Tracy? God she has me so fucked up I have been checking out guys, and I’m sick and tired of having to look at ten inch dicks. I’d rather do Freddie than one of those narcissistic surgeon’s play-toys. As soon as the show’s over I’m gonna grab Freddie, drag him off to dinner and make him help me forget this job on the dance floor. If I didn’t need to eat and buy supplies I’d be sooo gone already. All the non-stop work and having to watch stupid sex scenes over and over for continuity errors until I’m exhausted and my brain turns to mush. It’s like she’s trying to brainwash me or something. Like anyone cares about continuity anyway, it’s fricking porn.

‘Oh, but it is high grade porn, Tracy,’ mocked the artist. ‘The audience expects a bit of plot these days. Oh, excuse me, I have to go fake an orgasm now.’

As Tracy’s mind read and memorized lines from The Taming of the Shrew, parts of the back of her mind wandered away from anger and into in other directions. Guided, irresistible, new directions—For example:

‘Helping make pornos isn’t all that bad really. The pay’s good and it’s not my fault perverts buy them. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just a market niche like any other. I could really get to like this. This job is actually sort of fun.

‘Hey, this thing really works. I can remember that whole last scene.’

“Belike, I knew not what to take and what to leave”

Tracy muttered, her lips moving with Kate’s lines.

‘This isn’t hard, it’s easy. It must be fun to act. I could get work as an extra, maybe get a little sex myself—the way I’ve been living lately I’d probably use the relaxation. Just go wild and enjoy myself for a while. I’ll stop by the apartment and put on some sexy clothes before I go dancing with Freddie. Maybe give him a little tease.

‘Hmmmm Definitely a strip tease. Getting naked and getting him hard. Yeah a photo shoot of that of that would be so sexy—in an artsy sort of way.

‘God I can’t believe I just thought that—job’s got me soo fucked up. Fuck. Fucking. Oooooh.

‘Shut UP! I’m going dancing with Freddie. Concentrate on dancing, Moving to the music. Not going to let Sherry’s shit get to me—I’m an artist! We endure! Think about dancing with Freddie. Dance is art. Moving on the dance floor together to the music in each other’s arms, our bodies close, caressing each other as we move to the music, teasing him, feeling his hard cock pressing against my body. Mmmmm. Dancing with Freddie and his hard cock. So sexy. Cock rubbing against me. Feel like I’m on fire. Burning where we touch. Feel so sexy with his cock, hard and swollen, pressing into me, my body working it while we dance.

‘Pull him to the floor where everyone can see. Ride him, riding Freddie’s cock on the dance floor with everybody dancing around us watching. Watching us make art. Bucking and screaming on his cock. Having wild, passionate sex with everybody watching, getting horny watching. Watching like it was a movie. Yeah, Liza taking pictures of me moving on his cock, sliding, thrusting feeling so good, looking so hot. Mmmmm. I love dancing. It’s so beautiful.

‘And when we’re tired of dancing I’m gonna take him home and have Freddie fuck me from behind till I forget all about Sherry and work. Why? This job’s great! I love my job. I don’t want to forget; I want to try something new. I’ve sure seen enough new ways to fuck in the past few weeks. They would all be sooo good. Try them all out on Freddie! Fuck him every which way and then suck him off. I’ll take him all the way down deep where it feels best, and then I’ll take him up the ass and come screaming like it was a porno.

‘Yeah fuck him on camera like Sherry would. Do him and Sherry and Liza and that short chick with the huge tits behind her. God she’s making me horny. Blonde, big tits, dress practically showing off her hot pussy. I want her pussy.

‘I’ll show Sherry art. I’ll have Freddie take my ass while I lick her sexy pussy, I’ll make us both scream with pleasure. I’ll kiss Liza’s tits, and we’ll make love to each other while she’s taking pictures. That’d be so hot. A beautiful work of art. Shakespeare would write porn. It’s art.

‘Oh god I’d do anything to make art like that on camera. Ohhh Freddie, give me your cock and we’ll make art. Make art until you cum. Do anything to make you cum. Love your cock, let me suck it down and drink it dry. Stick it in me cock in me, in my cunt, my ass! It’s so hot, so good, so sexy, so artistic, so much better than painting. Freddie hard watching me make art! Helping me make art. Me and Freddie and the blonde with the tits all being art. Filling the market, filling my mouth, my pussy, my ass. Filling me.’

“Oh!” squeaked Tracy when the words went away. ‘Feeling kinda different. Relaxed. Horny? Relaxed and horny at the same time? Relaxed about being horny? I dunno, but it’s sure good.’

“It, it’s done?” she asked, “Did it work?”

“To cart her rather. She’s too rough for me.

There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?”

asked Freddie, breaking off from a discussion on optics with Liza.

Liza took one look at the visibly aroused Tracy and went bug eyed.

‘Holy FUCK!’ Liza readied her camera. ‘No model on a shoot ever looks that horny.’

“I pray you, sir, is it your will

To make a stale of me amongst these mates?”

Tracy responded, verbally, mentally and physically; getting hornier, getting wetter, body feeling so weird, wired, sensitive. Dazed and more aroused than she can ever remember being Tracy rose from the chair, moving to expose as much of her tits and ass through her skimpy clothes as possible. She had to make sure everyone watching got a good look, got hard for her.

‘Glad Sherry made me dress like this. It feels so sexy. I feel like a work of art.’

“Oh!” Tracy squeaked again, almost cumming, as Liza bathed her in camera flash. Tracy looked around confused until she saw the look of amazed interest on Liza’s face. Liza looked hot. So hot with her sexy little breasts.

Liza took another picture. The flash of the bulb burst another bright, beautiful flash of white to run through Tracy’s mind and body causing her to quake softly. Liza paused before snapping another shot. Tracy felt unbelievable, like nothing she’d felt before. Her body wanted more and more control, and she gave it.

“Liza,” Tracy stammered as the bulb flashed again and was joined by another. “We’re making art!”

Some level of Freddie picked up on the signals Tracy was sending as she moved. He coughed to clear his voice and wet his throat before continuing to prompt.

“Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.”

With no more thought Tracy jumped on Freddie wrapping her arms and legs around him, her skirt pushed up around her waist and forgotten, kissing him passionately and rubbing herself against him as her body called for more pleasure and less thinking.

“Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.”

The PA half said, half moaned into a pair of shocked lips, her body running wild with the beautiful sensations of her pussy sliding against Freddie’s pants, knowing full well that there was a cock on the other side.

‘Want it in me. Ohhhh work it with my pussy, suck it down and swallow his cum. God, what’s wrong with me? Nothing—Making art. Better than painting.’ A camera flashed, but she didn’t care whose camera; she just wanted it taking pictures while she danced with Freddie.

All questions, answers, modesty and inhibitions were lost as another flash from Liza’s camera reflected from Tracy’s glassy eyes. she moaned into Freddie’s mouth and thrust against him. She wanted strip for him. Wanted to suck Freddie hard. To ride his hardness. To feel him in her ass. To cum screaming. To make art. Right here. With Freddie. With the cameras and everybody watching.

“Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.”

Sherry Starlight whispered, lagging slightly behind Tracy, her eyes flitting about unable to decide on what to see. Gazing from man to woman, cock to tits all around her, sexy people all around and she needed it. Needed them. Needed all of them. Needed More. Needed to move and fuck and scream.

Starlight’s famous glistening hair jerked as she tried to stand up from the slouched position she’d been in since she started watching her PA undergo the memorization process. Tracy had been responding well, very well, to the experiment as Sherry’s eyes drifted from the erotic squirming of the PA’s body as Tracy’s mind was rewritten and to the screen. Then she’d started to read.

Miss Stewart had already absorbed layers one, two and three of the demo earlier so the new layer four grabbed her brain’s—her well educated and already conditioned to be highly efficient at absorbing subliminal input brain’s—total and complete attention.

Starlight’s eyes were wide and wild as she shook and mumbled lines from the play while trying to make her hands satisfy her sexually sensitive body. Clothes were in the way, so she tore through them. So many men, women and cameras. So much cock and pussy to be had and the cameras where on her naked body now, flashing away. Her hands wouldn’t work right.

Liza pulled her eyes off of Tracy long enough to turn and see what everyone was taking pictures of behind her. Sherry twitched and moaned and tore her skimpy business suit off lit by the poorly timed strobe of a dozen cameras.

“Freddie!” Liza called as she snapped the picture and released the flash that completely broke Sherry Stewart’s mind.

Sherry Stewart was wiped away. Sherry Stewart wanted money, power and a little sex with her PA. Sherry Starlight just wanted sex; lots of sex and she didn’t care who with how or why. All her body would let the ruin of her brain contemplate was how much she wanted to ride all the cocks, lick all the pussy. Standing wasn’t important. Getting cock in her ass was important. Legs just existed to pump her body on a cock. More cameras flashed, and she fell.

Freddie spun at Liza’s call. Frightened and confused by Tracy’s actions and glad for the distraction, he dropped Tracy and caught the falling pornstar, thank god she was light, as she collapsed to the ground.

Tracy; shocked almost sober by her own fall, the shift of attention to Miss Stewart, and the confusion in her brain as it integrated so many new thoughts; began to cry. Beauty had been so close. The art stolen by her wicked boss. The bitch took Freddie away from her. The bitch takes everything.

“blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads”

Starlight tried to say but it came out as a low moan. Her body jerked while her mind worked and failed at summoning up enough muscle control to embrace Freddie—he had a cock for her pussy, her mouth, her ass—as he lowered her twitching body to the ground and called for assistance. Body too starved with need even to fuck, Starlight screamed. She still screams a lot of the time.

Freddie didn’t sell the prompter that day. So far as he could tell, after today he’d be unlikely to ever sell it whether Miss Starlight’s collapse was it’s fault or not. Since then all he had talked to about the device were the paramedics, a convention hall official, two trade show organizers, one attendee wondering if Miss Starlight needed mouth to mouth (She didn’t because she was breathing fine even if nothing else was working), and now a policewoman who seemed to be more interested on pinning Miss Starlight’s seizure on the prompter than on discovering what really had happened.

“But Miss Starlight wasn’t even using it,” Freddie protested yet again. “Her assistant was.”

“Was there any means of preventing Miss Stewart from also watching the displays while you were demonstrating with Miss Roberts?” the officer asked. It was a new question, finally, so Freddie stopped and thought a moment.

“No, I suppose not. I never really took that into account, but it has been used more than one by the same person before. Kim Bateman, a Theatre Studies major at UWM, used it to memorize most of Shakespeare’s plays when we were testing it out. She must have seen it ten or more times without anything ever happening to her.”

“Did you do anything different this time?”

“Not really, no.” Tracy sat down, and he started the sequence just like he always did. But no, there was something about smoking....

“Oh. Miss Starlight—Stewart, sorry—wanted to see if it could help Tracy relax a bit more. In theory she should be acting more like Kate from the Taming of the Shrew and be able to relax better around cameras.”

“Relax a bit more. What exactly do you mean by that?”

“Miss Stewart said that Tracy was upset by some of the films they were making and would freeze up with stage fright or something.”

“A strange industry to work in if you are squeamish wouldn’t you think?”

“I think this is a strange industry in any case ma’am.”

“I can believe that,” the officer said with a smile. Had he said something funny? After reviewing his last few statements, he didn’t think so, but he was going to ask until the officer continued. “Did it work? Does Miss Roberts seem more relaxed to you?”

“No.” Another new question. Maybe this would be over soon and Freddie could go over the prompter and his notes. Once he could prove that what happened was not the prompter’s fault he’d feel a lot better. “I don’t think that it worked at all. She could just be upset about what happened, but when Liza, sorry, Ms Rupert was taking pictures earlier, Tracy just wasn’t acting right. She sort of freaked out.”

“Alright then. I guess we’re done with you for the time being. Ms. Rupert is up next, if you could send her in.... Oh, Mr. Campbell, for now we’re writing this up as an accident. If anything changes we’ll be in touch, so I’d appreciate it if you stayed in the area.”

“Sure, but I have a standby ticket back to Milwaukee so I don’t know when I’ll have to fly back—”

“I’ll make this clearer.” She had a wicked cold blue stare. “You will stay in the area.”

“Yes ma’am.” Obviously dismissed, Freddie walked out of the small room used for the interview and back out into the convention area. Someone had draped a large blanket over the prompter, and Tracy sat in the chair almost curled up. At first Freddie thought she was in shock and going into the fetal position, but maybe she was just cold. She really wasn’t wearing very much, but Freddie was trying to ignore that along with her immodestly positioned legs.

“Are you ok, Tracy? Cold?”

“No. I’m hungry, and I want to forget all about today. Just dance the night away.”

“Uhm, ok.” She didn’t look as upset as she had earlier, more confused than anything, and right now Freddie needed to forget too. He blew his tuition money to fly out here to sell something that was pretty much unsellable. Tracy was in a similar boat though; Miss Starlight didn’t really need much of an assistant now, so who knew what Tracy was going to do. If this was all his fault Freddie would definitely stay and put things right. It was what you did...you didn’t have to marry a girl if you made her lose her job, did you? There was no way he could afford to get married before he finished school.

He did a mental check on his budget; it was going to be stretched very thin if he was going to have to spend too much more time in LA. While figuring how much he could afford to spend tonight, he looked around for Liza. Spotting her not far away taking pictures of a mostly topless blonde woman, he called out over the rumble of the trade show. “Hey! Liza! The officer wants to talk to you now.”

“Good,” she shouted back before putting the cap back on her camera and walking in closer. “I really want to talk to her. Think she ever did any modeling? She’s sure got the body for it, but then I’ve always had a thing for women in uniform.”

Freddie blinked. You heard about things like that at universities so he wasn’t surprised that Liza might be gay, but he couldn’t even remember what the police officer looked like other than her piercing eyes. He had a brief mental image of the woman Liza was just taking pictures of and Tracy on either side of the officer as Liza snapped a photo, but then it was gone. His concentration was completely shot.

Turning back to Tracy, he shifted his mind to more practical matters. “Where do you want to eat, Tracy? Uhm. I’ve got a pretty tight budget.”

“Eat?” she asked, as if she’d forgotten about being hungry. She was joking for sure because immediately after her denial, she licked her lips. It warmed Freddie to see her sense of humor returning, even if it was a bit weird. “I just need to clean up our display a bit and swing by the office to get some clothes for tonight.”

Freddie left with Tracy, she didn’t look it from the way she was smiling, but she must have been upset. She must have been having problems walking, Freddie figured, she grabbed hold of him and pressed in tight as they walked to the brighter side of the center. Tracy whistled and gathered some things before saying good night to the couple manning the Starlight Films booth.

Freddie was too far away to see Liza, a huge grin on her face, having the officer sit in the cheap metal chair and pulling the blanket off of the prompter. Tracy led him out the door when Liza flipped the prompter on, re-enacting what had happened. Tracy started the car and Freddie buckled himself into the passenger’s seat as the officer began to writhe on the steel chair. They backed out of the parking space as Liza raised her camera to take pictures.

“No detective, the last time I saw officer...what was his name again? Oh. Her name. The last time I saw officer Laarsen, she sent me to get Liza, Ms. Rupert.” Freddie sat on the bed in his hotel room, talking on the phone and filling in details for an inquisitive police detective. Inquisitive, but the detective didn’t seem to be asking the right questions. It was as if the detective didn’t care at all how the teleprompter worked, only if it was dangerous.

‘Of course it wasn’t dangerous,’ Freddie thought. ‘I wouldn’t have built it if it was. Besides, he’s mostly asking the same questions officer Laarsen asked earlier. How do police get anything done if they keep asking the same questions over and over?’

“Yes, just some sort of fit,” he said, asked again what had happened to Miss Stewart. “The prompter causing epilepsy? Maybe, but I don’t think so—she was fine after she used it. I don’t know what happened, but if I find out I’ll definitely tell you. Yes, I think that Miss Stewart watched as Tracy, her PA, and I demonstrated the system, but I’m not sure because I was talking with Liza, Ms. Rupert, about camera lenses. She really knows a lot about optics you know. Oh yes, Tracy is fine. It worked perfectly; she remembers the whole play, but she’s a little upset about what happened to Miss Stewart, I think.

“No. No. Um. Actually I’m red/green color impaired so it doesn’t work for me, but with the right filters... Oh. No, no stranger than a deaf composer, and Beethoven was brilliant—”

As the detective interrupted, Freddie glanced up from his notes on the teleprompter to see what Tracy was up to with the video camera she’d picked up from work.

“Yes, I understand that you need to keep the teleprompter for the investigation, and I’ll render any assistance I can, but I can’t for long tonight. Tracy wants to go dancing, and I think she needs to get her mind off of today. Her boss is sick. Tracy might even be out a job.”

‘There’s the camera, but where’s Tracy gone off to?’ Freddie wondered both about Tracy and why the camera was on its tripod, pointed directly at him.

“Oh lord no. I wouldn’t use it even if I did have another one until I knew exactly what went wrong. That was the first time I ever tried to use it that way, Miss Starlight—Stewart, sorry—wanted to see if it could be used to get people to stop smoking as well as remember scripts. I don’t know what I was thinking trying it without controlled experi—

“What do you mean where I was thinking? Oh.”

“No, no. That’s all right. I’m just a bit slow today; it’s been a very unusual day.”

Freddie looked away from his notes again when he heard the sound of the bathroom door opening. ‘That’s where she was. Getting changed.’

Patting his pocket to check for his wallet and keys, Freddie got up and cast about for where he put his briefcase so he could return his notes to safety. “Sounds like she’s ready, so I have to go. You have my number here? Of course you do, you just called—”

“In token of which duty, if he please,

My hand is ready, may it do him ease.”

Tracy quoted as she stood, framed by light from the open door.

“—it.” Freddie mumbled. His usual montage of ideas, future experiments, and observations fled, leaving only a single train of thought to work its way out of his mouth as “Wow.”

She was the same Tracy he came in with, but he was fairly certain, positive even, that what she wore wasn’t the gown she picked up at work. Did she pick up a gown? She went in for one. And she brought something in a clothing bag back out that he assumed was a gown along with the video camera that silently taped his stunned expression.

Freddie didn’t think she had dancing in mind anymore. Not in an open shirt that drew attention to glimpses of a bra too small by far to be practical and lace panties.

‘She definitely is not wearing a ball gown,’ said some idiotic part of his brain. The comment might have made it out his lips, but Freddie did not know or care.

Trying to cover his shattered manners, Freddie focused upwards from the traces of the bra and found what was there no less captivating. Freddie’s subconscious finally got the smile it had been calling for ever since first sighting Tracy. Her green eyes lit up a face that broadcast a message of such strength and clarity that even Freddie understood it.

They weren’t going dancing. At least not right now.

Then she started walking, slowly. An amalgam of all the women she’d met or seen in the dozens of art films Sherry had her watch over the last month, every motion causing the shirt to shift in a different way revealing and concealing parts of her flushed body and earning Freddie’s religiously guarded total and undivided attention.

“Uh, I’ll, uh, keep in touch.” Freddie managed to stammer out to a phone nowhere near his mouth. His eye flowed downwards as he tried to hang up the phone. His beloved research notes scattered across the floor as he focused on what appeared to Freddie as a pair of high heeled glass slippers.

She went to him; her eyes dancing at least, slowing only slightly to adjust the camera’s focus onto the bed as she passed by.