The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Prolog

A priest, a boy scout and a blonde walked into a bar.

This did nothing to improve the mood of the Pumpkin sitting there.

“It’s just not right, I tell you,” the Pumpkin brooded over his bloody mary. “Just ... not ... right ....”

Hysterical guffaws were wafting in from the open window behind the bar.

“What IS that?” the blonde asked about the odd noises.

“It’s a horse,” the bartender told her.

“Oh.”

After a moment, the boy scout spoke up and asked, “But horses don’t normally ... laugh hysterically like that. Do they, sir?”

“I didn’t THINK so!” the blonde pointed knowingly at the boy, nodding her pretty head, then looked at the bartender for explanation.

“Normally, no,” the bartender told them.

“Oh,” the two of them nodded their heads.

The peals continued to waft in through the open window.

“It’s just an unholy sound,” the priest shook his head sadly.

“Exactly!” the Pumpkin snapped his fingers and pointed at the priest. “My point exactly! Horses aren’t SUPPOSED to laugh hysterically! Everyone knows that! So when an Indian bets you he can make the horse outside laugh uncontrollable, you take him up on it. Because they ... just ... don’t ... do that kind of thing!”

He settled back in sullenly with his drink, and they all lapsed into silence.

“Pumpkins don’t normally ... talk. Do they?” the boy scout asked after a few moments.

“I didn’t THINK so!” the blonde pointed knowingly at the boy, nodding her pretty head, then looked at the Pumpkin for explanation.

A spat of flames licked out of the pumpkin’s eyeholes as he nursed his drink without replying.

“Oh,” the two of them nodded their heads meekly.

“He’s not in a real good mood right now, in case you hadn’t noticed,” the bartender explained.

“It’s just unholy, it is,” the priest nodded sagely.

“See, that’s the sort of religious dogma that interferes with the advancement of knowledge,” the blonde expressed her concerns about the priest’s attitude. “It’s only by freak chance that primates evolved the power of emotional expression via vocal responses. It could just as easily have been equines—arguably more so, in fact, as they are herd animals, and efficient communication of sentiments is a positive survival trail for them. But theology, from its rigid, short-sighted homocentric viewpoint, declares all equally valid alternative worlds to ours as unholy and inconceivable.” Pretty nod: so there.

“No, I was talking about the Pumpkin,” the priest clarified. “A talking pumpkin is just an unholy thing. ‘Course you’re right: a laughing horse is no better. I mean, if God had meant horses to laugh, He would have made them ticklish.”

The horse was gasping for air between peals of giggles outside the window.

“And how would you do it? How would you even make a horse laugh like that?!”

The horse continued to laugh like that.

“Perhaps ... we should ask the Indian that made the bet,” the boy scout offered.

“I thought the SAME THING!” the blonde pointed knowingly at the boy, nodding her pretty head, then looked at the bartender for directions to said Indian.

“He’s gone to walk his skin or something. Said he’d be back in an hour.”

“Oh.” Sad face. “WhatEVER will we do to pass the time?”

“I can recite by heart the Constitution of the United States and all of its Amendments,” the boy scout brightly offered.

“No,” the Pumpkin declared.

“Let me share with you the path of the soul and all of its trials and tribulations and its sufferings for its failures!” the priest eagerly offered.

“No!” the Pumpkin declared.

“How ... EVER ... will we pass the time ...,” the blonde bemoaned.

“Oh, okay,” the Pumpkin sighed ....