The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The old 8mm projector wheezed suddenly to life. Amazingly the bulb was still good, and Robert could see that, despite some surface rust, the mechanics of the unit seemed to be in perfect working order. Robert turned the machine off and smiled, looking at the pile of 6 rusted home movie cans stacked on the table before him. Sadist that he was, the mystery of the thing, and the pain his snap decision to buy them up for all of $10.00 had caused another, delighted him to the bone.

He thought of the panic that had shown on the face of his neighbor Mrs. Semple when Robert’s eyes found the old projector in a box in a dusty corner of Mrs. Semple’s garage during the bank auction held on her property that morning. All her belongings had been up for bid, thanks to the mortgage debts that had accumulated since her seemingly well off husband had skipped town and divorced her, leaving behind debts of an unknown origin. Most of the townfolk thought it a shame to see Mrs. Semple, who was always so plain, so plump but so vivacious, disintegrating under the strain her debts and her divorce had caused her. She’d put on a remarkable amount of weight in the past two years, and her once laughing eyes were now lined with ugly sorrow. But Robert, who was not only a neighbor but also Mrs. Semple’s loan officer at the First Union Bank downtown, had no sympathy for the suffering of others, which is why he was so good at his job. If anything, he found her plight entertaining, and he was already plotting ways in his head to take over the Semple mortgage, evict the widow Semple, and combine her property with his own, to the astronomical increase of value of both.

Robert’s fingers coiled around the ancient, sprocketed 8mm filmstock from inside a canister marked “Part 1: Beginnings.” The old film curled around his fingers like a living thing, and a faint, vinegarish smell filled his nostrils, not entirely unpleasantly. He thought back, remembering. Mrs. Semple had seemed genuinely appalled when he had grabbed up the box and said innocuously “An old movie projector! We had one of these when I was a kid!”

“Robert dear, please,” she had cried, assuming, even in her panic, a familiarity that made him cringe. “You don’t want that old thing!”

Robert had begun to rummage through the box. He smiled, saying, “Why not? Is there something the matter with it?”

“Not exactly,” Mrs. Semple said. “It’s just that it’s an artifact of a rather personal –”

Just then, in the bottom of the box, Robert found the film cans. “What have we here?” he said.

As he lifted up the first canister, Mrs. Semple had flushed to the roots of her hair, and Robert knew then that it would hurt her if he bought her tatty little box of 8mm secrets, and he knew also that he therefore had to have them, had to have them all. As her loan officer, he knew Mrs. Semple had little say in the matter – these were legally bank assets now, as, God willing, her home and lands would be. He could see it on her multi-chinned face that Mrs. Semple wanted to ask him to leave the things where they were, but she couldn’t, out of a fear of the bad impression it would make on him as the man who would eventually be calling her loan. And so here Robert was, three hours later, with a little pile of Mrs. Semple’s secrets arranged before him.

As he threaded the projector, Robert thought for a moment about how strange it was that Mrs. Semple and her stumpy little pimple of an ex-husband would use an antique format like home movie film to enact their tawdry little fantasies. They were both high-tech types, he knew this because he had access to their job records. They had met during the dotcom boom, shoulder to shoulder at somebody else’s start-up, got together because, their personal appearance being what it was, he supposed no one else would have them, and then had founded a company called neuralgia.com, which was supposed to be the living end for behavioral scientists looking to swap information and network. Surely somebody should have told the not entirely young couple that if all the successful behavioral scientists in America were seated in a diner, there would still be room at the counter. But you couldn’t tell anybody anything during the height of the dotcom craze, so the company had gone bust, and the Semples had moved to his quiet street in his little town to lick their wounds and watch their marriage unravel.

He wasn’t surprised about that last. Before she’d become his fiscal charge, Robert was sure he’d caught the then supposedly happily married Doris Semple eyeing him with once across the fence that separated their yards frank hunger. He had to admit, compared to what she was used to, he was quite a catch, but it made Robert nauseous even to about his voluminous neighbor finding him an object of desire.

Robert’s hand moved to the projector’s “ON” switch. He wondered exactly what images he’d find recorded on the films each can contained. Something embarrassing and personal, he was almost sure of it, probably amateur erotica, though imagining the dowdy Mrs. Semple and her cadaverous ex-husband naked was about as unerotic an image as he could fit into his head. Mrs. Semple was older than Robert by a good five years (Robert was 35 but looked much younger) and even in her so-called prime, she had never really done it for him. Now that that the woman was nudging 250 pounds, the idea of the widow Semple as anybody’s idea of a sex object just made him want to laugh out loud, then vomit.

He turned the projector on and watched as the projection beam sprang to flickering life. An amateurish title card appeared: “I Spy With My Little Eye” it said. Then the camera cut to a nondescript living room, photographed in flat uninteresting light. The only unique feature of the black and white image was that someone had thought to put a circular matte on the camera to make it look as though the viewer was watching through a telescope, to give the whole thing the feel of a peeping Tom.

The movie image had a black circle around it, into which Doris Semple suddenly stepped, pushing a vacuum cleaner, and wearing the tackiest kind of Victoria’s Secret bodice around her enormous figure, which threatened to pour out of the skintight outfit with every step she took.

Robert guffawed until his eyes were moist. He’d expected this stuff to be good, but not that good.

Projection flicker made it hard to watch the black and white image on the screen, but Robert was so amused by the idea of how humiliated Mrs. Semple would feel kowing he had seen this little opus that he vowed inwardly to watch all of her films, and then make subtle insinuations about their content that would leave no doubts in her mind the next time he saw her. Maybe he could embarrass her so much she’d decide to sell before her finances bottomed out. Cat and mouse was a game he knew well from his job at the bank and—

On the screen, Mrs. Semple had been vacuuming the floor, doing an elephantine impression of a French maid, when she suddenly shut off the vacuum cleaner, turned to the camera and smiled. It was a corny come hither look, a cliché expression of cartoon desire. But it stopped Robert’s train of thought cold. Her body still repelled him, but as they locked onto him, Robert suddenly realized he had never noticed just how beautiful were Doris Semple’s eyes. They were the kind of eyes he should have noticed before, soft and steely, repellant and compelling – above all, compelling.

He shook his head to clear it. What was he thinking? Compelling? His dowdy old neighbor? Inwardly Robert scoffed, but as he shrugged the impression of, he still found his gaze drifting absently back again, back again, to Doris Semple’s eyes.

On the screen, the woman’s smile widened, as if she had a secret – and in fact, she had. Robert failed to notice it, but the flickering projection light that brought her image before him was changing patterns. Had he been a neurologist, he might have recognized that the flicker had begun to synchronize itself with the circadian rythms of human brainwaves – that it was matching and then subtlely altering the flow of information as it moved through his mind. But Robert wasn’t a neurologist. He was a smalltown banker, whose jaw had begun to slacken, and who had, without noticing it himself, suddenly become shockingly erect.

The figure on the screen seemed to notice it though. She looked him up and down, then held him with her glance for a long, exquisite moment, that seemed to last a very long while…

There was a jump cut, and the black and white image on the screen was suddenly replaced by a color one. Doris’ back was to the camera, and Robert was surprised at how disappointed he was by the fact that their eyes had broken contact. But slowly, slowly, he found himself staring again. From the back, he decided she was voluminous but shapely, far more shapely that he had ever allowed himself to imagine. Her ample backside started to gyrate in little circles that made his eyes swivel and swing, now left, now right… He found himself imagining what it would be like to have those bounteous curves gyrating beneath him… no, not beneath him... on top of him… on top… on top…

The force of the image knocked his head back against his armchair. For a fleeting instant, Robert was sure he’d gotten an impression in his head that he was kneeling before Mrs. Semple, who towered over him snearing cruelly. She was naked, and the odd thing was that there was sound with the image, which was impossible given the age and model of the projector he was using, a fact he found most alarming. But he was sure he had heard something. He was sure Mrs. Semple had looked at him and said the words, “Forever mine.”

The words echoed in is head, frightening him, yet drawing him to it. His eyes readjusted to the flickering screen, where the image of Doris was closer now, and where she slowly turned to him, showing him her profile. Those breasts, those enormous breasts of hers, strained at the sheer black bodice as though they were trying to escape... oh, if only they would escape…

Doris stared at him, triumphant. Asking no more. Wanting nothing from him she didn’t already have, or know she would have soon. Robert realized suddenly that there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to sit in his chair, watching this image of his next door neighbor, whose beauty had escaped his notice for so very long. His mind was emptying of worry, was becoming as blank and as receptive as the screen his beloved Doris was projected on…

Another image flashed inside him. He was kneeling as before before beautiful, bounteous, lovely Doris, whose heaving breasts were now exposed before him. His eyes burned. His throat clenched. He was appalled by the desire he felt, as pure and crystalline as any emotion could be. He wanted to resist her, he HAD to resist her. He mouthed the word “No.” Then he saw his hands reaching, reaching for this vision of unearthly perfection as…

The reel ran out of film and the screen went white. The spell, while not entirely broken, modified somewhat. Robert was no longer lost in the visions that the projector’s flicker had instilled in his head, though they were there still, like the afer-image burned into a retina by an eye that has looked for too long at the grand beauty of the sun. He was alert enough to his surroundings to know where he was, but Robert was unable to move or think clearly enough to formulate a new thought of his own. And so he stared with blank acceptance at the projector’s flickering white projector beam as it made its simple pattern on the screen before him.

Then Doris Semple – the real Doris Semple—stepped into the hot white light, wearing a long topcoat over what Robert assumed were street clothes.

“You bad boy,” she said. “I told you not to take what was in that box, but you wouldn’t listen, would you?” Her heavenly eyes narrowed. “Say ‘yes ma’m.’”

Tonelessly, Robert said, “Yes ma’m.”

“That’s right. You wouldn’t listen, but now ALL you can DO is listen. And you like that Robert. You like that a lot. You’ve never liked anything as much as you like the sound of my voice…”

“Yes ma’m.”

Doris took off her coat, let it drop to the floor, revealing the same black bodice she had worn in the film. She gradually rotated her corpulent physique, which flickered in the projector beam, going now light, now dark. “Watch the light play on my body,” she commanded, and Robert watched, his eyes widening. “It’s a perfect body, isn’t it? You never realized before how perfect a body it was…”

The truth of her words broke on him like a great wave, and Robert’s increasingly painful erection strained against his pants. How could he have ever thought otherwise? Doris Semple was perfect, just perfect in her beauty, an absolute object of desire. He realized with a shock that it was something he had known for years, ever since he first saw her, in fact, and the thought occurred to him that the suppression of the desire he could suppress no longer his was what had caused him to be so cruel to her in the past.

“Perfect,” he said. “You are perfect…”

“Perfect ma’m.,” she corrected.

“Perfect ma’m,” he responded.

Her wide smile pleased him and teased him to the brink of orgasm. “That’s right. Perfect. And it was a perfect trap I made for you, Robert dear. Behavioral science is a funny thing. In the wrong hands it can be like the most boring algebra class you’ve ever taken. In the right hands…”

She held out her hands to him. They were the most erotic hands he’d ever seen.

“… it’s like scientific witchcraft.”

She turned her body slowly in the light, watched delighted as Robert’s eyes unwillingly followed her, coming to rest on her breasts, where they stayed as his face assumed an impression something like awe. “I had a hunch about you, Robert dear,” she said into the sweet torture he felt as he looked at her. “For all the superior airs you put on, I could tell by observation that your natural inclinations were toward the lower female type – big breasts, skinny waists, slightly large but not too large from behind. I had already used brainwave alteration techniques to snare my first husband, who was a wonderful guinea pig for my experiments in plotting and tracking the interior life of the male mind. I was sure I could ensnare a more gratifying life-companion if I could devise a method for re-engineering an unwilling subject – for making him, as I’ve made you, desire a very specific variation on his usual female type. And despite the fact that you didn’t even seem to like me, I caught your eyes straying over my body from time to time – compulsively, simply because, as your next door neighbor, I was there.”

Robert listened, a shred of his former self screaming inside him in terror, but in a compartment of his mind so far away it was like overhearing the arguments of a neighbor from two doors down.

She assumed a pouty, naughty girl pose. “Listen to me, Robert,” she said. “Listen only to me.”

His mind cleared. The small struggle inside him stopped. “Only to you…” he repeated, enraptured.

“That’s right,” she said haughtily. “This is the last surprise your ever going to get in this life, Robert dear, so I want you to hear what I say as I say it. Now where was I? Oh yes…”

She smiled lasciviously. “I sent little Mr. Semple away amid rumors of impending bankruptcy, and then became the damsel in distress, forced into your company whether you would or no. Meanwhile, there was technology to create…”

She nodded her head, indicated the projector. “It only looks like a simple piece of equipment Robert dear. But it had to be nonthreatening. And if you want to alter brain activity, nothing beats a hard shaft of light…”

Doris giggled as if she’d said something naughty.

“From our meetings at the bank, and the way I saw your eyes roam the women in the room, I realized pretty quickly that you were easily stimulated visually, which was very good news. I knew it as soon as I’d thought it through. With a slight disruption of your brain’s wave patterns, my more gratifying life-companion was going to be you.”

Doris smiled, that slightly evil smile that had first sealed his fate when Robert saw it in the film, and she said in a commanding tone, “Strip, Robert, and come to me.” Robert rose, as if a hard physical force was pulling him to her, shedding his clothes as he went. Doris pulled at the top of her bodice, and her much more than ample breasts spilled out, dazing him. She shimmied with some difficulty out of the skimpy outfit, and revealed to Robert the most perfect female body he had ever set eyes on, that he would EVER set eyes on. “Kneel!” she said as he reached her, and instantly he knelt before her, humbly averting his eyes. “Look at me,” she commanded, and as Robert looked up at his beloved, the small part of is brain that was still his own recognized the overpoweringly familiar image just before the last vestiges of his internal resistance withered and died. Doris achieved this final transformation with a sneer and a word, saying, “Mine.”

She stared at him with thinly veiled superiority, and he felt his irises open and close as the flickering projector beam forced her image into his now completely pliant mind. “I don’t want a slave,” she said, “though I could easily enslave you totally, and there will always be a little part of you that remains as you are now. We are to be married, you and I. A marriage that will become the focus of your entire life…’”

“Yes ma’m.”

“You will pay off the debts on my house and give the free and clear deed to my own property to me as a wedding present. ”

“Yes ma’m.”

““You will desire nothing but me. You will want no one but me. Your every thought will be of me…”

“My every thought,” Robert said.

“Robert dear, you will forever be mine.”

Robert shivered involuntarily. A single tear spilled from Robert’s right eye. But it was a tear of happiness. Dear, perfect wonderous Doris had said the words “forever” and “mine.”

Doris smiled indulgently. “I know, sweetie, I know. The change is hard. But it’s worth it.”

She moved her shoulders, her enormous breasts heaving in the flickering light, the large nipples suddenly taut and erect.

“When I say the words ‘forever mine’ one more time, you’re going to reach up, and touch at last these perfect mounds. The instant you feel them in your hands, you will remember nothing of this day up to that moment. Instead, you will remember that you and I have been quietly falling in love for these past few months, that you have never known a love like the one you feel for me, and that only moments ago, you declared your passion, and asked me to become your bride. You will take me in your arms, and make love to me, finding that, with each kiss, your love becomes more permanent and alive… Are you ready, Robert dear?”

“Ready mistress,” he said.

Doris laughed, throaty and predatory. “Forever…” she said, as Robert’s hands reached toward the most impossibly perfect woman he had ever known.

“…mine.”