The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jason, 0600, Tuesday, June 19th, Amy Windsor’s Home

Jason, being the most fit of his social cicle, was always the first to awaken. He had always been a morning sort of person, and this annoyed Sam to no end, who prefered to sleep until the last possible moment if she could get away with it. Getting up off the floor where he had appearantly spent the night he made his way to the kitchen to start thinking about getting breakfast ready for the others.

When he got the kitchen he glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to note that Lindsey wasn’t anywhere to be seen. She was a jogger and a mail carrier, so she was probably a morning person as well. There was something about morning people and fitness nuts that probably shared a gene or something. He stepped around the counter and noticed the fridge door was sitting open.

Glancing down over the door he frowned at the mess Lindsey had made, having pulled out seemingly every foodstuff in the kitchen and attempted to eat each one without any luck. She was sitting in the lotus position with a leaf of lettuce held morosely in one hand and an open can of cola in the other. She sipped the cola and nodded in grim satisfaction, but seemed to be unable to deal with the leafy mass she so clearly wanted to eat.

“Hungry?” Jason said softly, taking care to duck his head back so it was clear he wasn’t looking at her bare-and-ink breasts. Lindsey, taken by surprise, launched to her feet and tried to jump away into a fighting pose. Tried being the operative word, as she slipped on some spare aoli that she’d spilt and ended up rolling over to fall on her face, ass held high. Jason rushed to make sure she was okay while also laughing heartily. “Jesus, are you okay?”

Lindsey rolled on to her side and then onto her ass, taking care to make sure she didn’t stick her bottom or another limb into more relatively edible materials. She looked up at Jason with a helpless look on her face that only made more ridiculous the sight of a fully naked redhead with full-body tattoos and sexual piercings laying on the floor covered in sauces and condiments. Jason held out his hand and hauled her to her feet, then turned away and coughed politely.

After a quick and quiet clean up of Lindsey’s mess she sat on a kitchen cloth on the counter and Jason started looking for any unadulterated foods he could use to make an omlette or four. “No idea what you can eat yet, hunh? You must be really hungry after all that happend... last night.” he paused and thought for a second, then shrugged and went to the counter to prepare his meat and two veg. The ham, onion, and green pepper. “You can’t understand me, so why am I getting all embarrassed about? On second thought, why am I bothering to talk at all?”

There came a strained grumble from Lindsey’s stomach, and she blushed like a third degree burn when Jason turned to look at her in surprise. He laughed, and she smiled in embarrassment, taking to being nude a little easier than she probably should have. She cocked her head to the side and glanced down a little bit, a look of sudden fixation on her face. Jason took a second to realize she was locked on to his crotch, where he was losing the battle against his erection which was now showing to prominence.

“Oh, no. No thank you.” He said, putting his knife down and backing away slowly. “Don’t need a repeat of that. Not that it wasn’t nice. It was very nice! But I can’t be cheating on Sam like that, not if I want to live long anyway.” Lindsey raised her eyes to his and gave him such a puppy dog look he nearly lost his footing. He was weak to vulnerable women, which was odd given how much he liked the anything-but-vulnerable Sam. He held up his hands to ward her off. “Now, now. Just stay there. I’ll go wake the others and we can figure out how to feed you together. Sound good?”

Oblivious to his words Lindsey hopped off the counter and stepped quickly and lightly into his arms before he could stop her. She pushed up against him and ground into him as she raised her face to his and looked straight into his eyes. In addition to the open lust he was begining to get more and more used to these days he saw a raw hunger that set off a light in his head. He looked down at his package, then back to her face with a slow recognition forming on his features. She nodded vigorously and looked as if she was going to start crying from the pain of her empty stomach at any moment.

“Oh, I’m going to hell for this.” He muttered as he finally nodded and smiled weakly.

Lindsey immediately beamed up at him in joy and dropped to her knees to begin unwrapping her foot-long meat lover’s and enjoy her breakfast.

A little pink camera, 0620, Tuesday, June 19th, Amy Windsor’s Home

As the male in the kitchen fed the Image its meal the camera looked on and planned its next move. If it could edit enough images it could bury its mistake in volume while also hitting far higher than its quotas All it needed to do was get these two males under its lens and it could secure itself from doubt. It hoped. Subtly whirring its gyroscopes the little pink camera oriented itself to the kitchen entry and waited for the first person to use it to appear.

It still had all the edits the artists thought would be the best fit the two males, so it didn’t need to download anything, and they were already organized so it didn’t need to spend a half a microsecond putting everything in order. It increased the sensitivity of its buttons so that any stimulus at all would cause it to go off, and readied itself to casually leap off the counter top in the event the Image’s were too cautious to touch it.

Yes, life was good if you were a smart camera. The little pink camera allowed itself a moment of self indulgence as it thought it might just be the smartest camera that was ever made. Hubris, as it is known, is not a good trait for a creature with the power to literally alter reality. In fact, the ancient greek useage of hubris was an excessive pride against the gods that would ultimately lead to nemesis, the inescapeable agent of downfall.

-Sam, 0620, Tuesday, June 19th, Amy Windsor’s Home

Sam woke up when Amy shuffled and kicked her onto the floor. Despite having fallen asleep with tangled limbs the two girls had managed to separate at some point in the night and were laying head to foot on the sofa. Sam hit the floor with an indignant thump and took a minute or two to get her bearings. She was still arguably dressed with her little black gown around her waist. She quickly shuffled the dress into as best a position as it would allow for maximum coverage, then took to her feet.

There was a rythmic huffing sound coming from somewhere that triggered an association response in her hindbrain and got her salivating. She sniffed and thought she could smell the aroma of freshly cut red onion, and so she thought it must be because she was hungry. Bleary-eyed and a little unsteady she got up from the floor and made her way to the kichen, taking a second to examine the sight of her postal worker blowing her boyfriend, then started throwing things.

“You rat fucking bastard!” Sam screamed as she hurled a cutting board at Jason, who threw up an arm to deflect the thick timber pannel. “You coniving, adultering, cheating, rat fucking bastard!”

Jason lunged to the side and knocked lindsey loose, who fell on her ass but was immediately back up on her knees to try and get that massive cock back into her mouth like her life depended on it. Jason swatted her away and threw his manhood back where it belonged then zipped it up for extra protection. “It’s not what it looks like!” he protested.

“I’ll fucking bet! You ass! You heel!” Sam was punctuating each insult with an airborn projectile, some of them shattering as they hit the far wall or landed on the counter. “You are the worst! A pig! A womanizer! You think just because I have to wear a slutty black dress that I’m okay with you getting sucked off by every whore who looks at you pretty?”

Lindsey’s instinct for survival argued against her growing hunger as she ducked under the counter and tried to make herself small while simultaneously trying to unzip Jason’s pants and resume feeding. She couldn’t know what Sam was screaming in Russian, nor would her arousal addled brain clearly process why she would be yelling, but flying projectiles is truely the universal language so she kept her head down.

“Honey, you have it wrong!” Jason tried to speak calmly, then bellowed in pain as a glass shattered on his arm, leaving two streaks of blood where he’d been cut. “AAAh! Just wait one minute, woman!”

Sam, reluctantly, stopped hurling kitchenware at her boyfriend. Not because he’d been hurt, she rather thought he deserved that, and only partially because he’d asked her to; she stopped because she was getting unbearably wet. It took her a second to remember the terrible curse the camera had levied on her, wherein she would get aroused by being cruel to others, and though she considered this entirely justified action it was appearantly not a nice thing to do, and now she was so hot under the collar she’d almost forgive Jason for a little cunnilungus right then and there.

Keeping her mind out of the gutter with a furious shake, Sam scowled fiercely at Jason and then glowered toweringly at Lindsey. “You two have some explaining to do before I kill the two of you.”

“She was hungry- Ow!” Jason had started, earning him another glass bounching painfully off his shoulder. “Okay! Wait! That was a bad way to start. I’m sorry. I found her here trying to eat, and not getting anywhere, so I thought about last night when she attacked us and I thought maybe that was how she eats now.”

“And that sounds reasonable to you.” Sam said in a strictly mantained even tone.

“Yeah, she seemed to think the same thing and... well... I can’t say no to someone who’s starving right?” Jason said, smiling sincerely at his good deed.

Sam grabbed the nearest item off the table and reeled back. “You think having a fucking postwoman suck you off is a favour? I am so fucking through with you! I fucking hate you! Get out of my house, get out of my life, and take this stupid camera with you!”

Jason dived for the front door as the camera flew through the air towards him, a flash thundering off as it left Sam’s hand. The big man combat rolled out the door and took off around the corner, unaware of what was thrown, only knowing that he needed to go process this before he confronted his girlfriend again, needed to figure out how to apologize.

Sam rubbed her eyes furiously to clear the green spots that dominated her vision, then looked at Lindsey in disgust and unfortunately lust. “I hope you’re happy, you whore.” Then stormed off into the hallway and up the stairs to figure out how to calm down or else she might kill the next person to speak.

Lindsey, 0630, Tuesday, June 19th, Amy Windsor’s Home

Lindsey, for her part, breathed heavily and panicked. She was so hungry, she was so horny, but Ms. Davies and chased her meal away, and then walked off before she could try asking for a replacement. She looked at her stomach and noticed that the vines of her tattoos were thicker and longer, with more curls and larger flowers, than they had been before. She hopped over the broken glass and went to the bathroom to wash her face and noticed in the mirror as she turned that the tree on her back was budding its own flowers. It looked pretty, but she didn’t like supposedly permanent things shifting on her when she didn’t even want them in the first place.

She went back to the living room and glanced at Ms. Windsor, who was awake but only staring around in confusion, the smokey texture of her clothing hinting at then hiding before finally revealing her curves and graces. She smelled delicious, and not just in Lindsey’s confused food sense. Ms. Windsor waved and smiled warmly, with more than a little concern in her face as she got up and went into the kitchen. She muttered something under her breath, then went about picking up the glass shards that were everywhere.

Looking at Mr. Saunders Lindsey shook her head and smirked through her hunger and arousal. He was still asleep. That took a lot of something primal to sleep through a loud fight like that, and that odd camera’s flash going off would have woken anyone in an instant. She did recall that everyone kept pointing or glowering at the camera the night before, but she wasn’t sure what the relevence was to her situation. She tapped Mr. Saunders on the shoulder with the hope that he could help her out of her two overridding situations, but his rock hard shoulder didn’t flinch.

Oh god, Lindsey thought with a panic, he’s dead! He isn’t breathing! She ran to the kitchen and got Ms. Windor’s attention and dragged her to the living room. She took her in front of Mr. Saunders and poked him hard, then pointed at his chest and mimed breathing heavily. Ms. Windsor’s response was not at all reasonable as she looked oddly disapointed or perhaps amused, and then walked back to the kitchen.

Lindsey started to hyperventilate in panic as she wondered if someone in the house was a murderer, and then was completely thrown for a spin when Ms. Windsor came back with the camera and showed her the oddly angled image of Mr. Saunders’ unmoving body as if that would be enough explanation. The postalwoman stared blankly, blinked, then shook her head.

Ms. Windsor started to speak, seemed to think better of it, then leaned over to show Lindsey how she manipulated the camera’s touch screen. The violet vixen pressed one of the tabs on the top and gestured to the tiny pictures that overlayed Mr. Saunders’. Ms. Windsor pressed an icon showing the silhoutte of a man’s head with tounselled hair and stuble, then gestured to Mr. Saunder’s face as his hair suddenly became more out of place than it had been and a thick dusting of day-old growth darkened his jowls. He looked like he had just woken up from a long nap.

As Lindsey leaned forward and rubbed the stoney hairs she felt her breath catch. This was what had happened to her, she was sure of it. Some how the camera could change people. She stepped around behind Ms. Windsor and watched the next selection, her hand subconciously rubbing Ms. Windsor’s lower back. The purple-haired woman hummed as she looked at the different clothing options displayed on the screen and nodded to herself when she selected the one she liked best.

Gone were Mr. Saunder’s messy shirt and wrinkled pants, and in their place was a set of pristine silk pajamas. A dark red hue, shiny and obviously of high thread-count, the pj’s looked very much like something Hugh Hefner might wear to bed in the Playboy Mansion. The front wasn’t buttoned closed and his skinny body was plainly visible beneath, his feet were clad in a pair of matching slippers, and over his right shoulder was a monogramed towel with what were presumably his initials in gold on a crimson background. He looked very relaxed.

More humming and more tapping. After a minute Ms. Windsor had filled out Mr. Saunder’s figure to be more lean and muscular, with his newly enhanced morning wood pushing stiffly against his silky pants. A few more taps and the frozen man shifted suddenly into a more relaxed posture that somehow pushed his erection even more prominently in Lindsey’s direction. After a few more taps Ms. Windsor said something in a satisfied tone, then walked out of the room and rummaged around in the kitchen for several minutes.

Lindsey walked over and peeked in from the doorway and shook her head as she watched Ms. Windsor tap the camera one last time, then stuff it into a drawer under the sink. She was tempted to walk over and see what had been done to the drawer, but Ms. Windsor turned around and walked towards her before she could make a move. With a hand on her shoulder Lindsey was led back into the living room where Ms. Windsor pointed towards Mr. Saunders and smiled.

He was breathing again!

Mrs. Boisie, 0810, Tuesday, June 19th, Mrs. Boisie’s home

“Ah, yes, how can I help you?” Mrs. Boisie asked the strange men who had knocked at her door. She’d been taken by surprise as her doberman that was habitually agressive to visitors seemed to be off its game. The first one was pasty white, very thin, and on the tall side while the second was a shorter by still skinny black fellow. Both were wearing dark grey suits and trilbys low over their heads despite the building heat of the summer morning, a pair of opaque sunglasses and a thick silver watch were the only adornments on their stark exteriors.

They weren’t likely to be the Mormons on a Tuesday morning, but they could be the Witnesses out for an early morning conversion. It was moments like this that Pastor Greenfield had warned her about in the sermon that week. Every now and then someone with the wrong ideas about Jesus would come and test her, and she was supposed to invite them warmly into her home to teach the the real truth of the Lord and Saviour. It was just such a shame she was expecting company in half and hour and had to finish cleaning.

The pale man, his thin lips stretched into a parody of a smile, his shoulders set as if he was ready to stand in a stiff wind even though there was only the barest hint of a morning breeze. “Mrs. Boisie, I presume?” he said without modulating his low tone, producing the eerie sensation that he was talking through a microphone. “I’m looking to ask you a few questions about the people in the neighborhood.”

Ah, they were realtors, not Witnesses. That was fine, she had no problems with helping attract new people to the neighbourhood The second man had a grey, non-descript smart phone out in front of him as if he was taking pictures, though he never seemed to press anything on the screen. Reasonably certain she was being recorded on the man’s phone, Mrs. Boisie grabbed the edges of her housecoat and pulled them tighter. She may be a sixty year old widow, but she wasn’t going to let anyone back at their office get a look at her goods!

“I’m sure I could answer a few question if it won’t be long.” she said and allowed herself to relax a little, but making sure to say no more than was absolutely nessesary. “If its about the new roundabout then I can tell you it is impossible to get across the street without going all the way to the corner of George Street. Everyone in the community was opposed to it, you know. Good old fashioned street lights, that’s what Americans like. No one wants this confusing British driving in circles, if you ask me. I mean if I wanted to move in a circle I’d go to the Armdale rotary over by the old shipping lanes, but no one thought to ask someone with my years of driving experience what was good for the flow of traffic.”

The pale man paused with his mouth open as he waited for a natural pause to interupt. “I suspect that will be one of the greatest tragedies of our era, Mrs. Boisie, but that is not the nature of our visit today. You see, my associate and I are looking for an absent member of our office who was not able to complete their assigned duties as of late yesterday afternoon.”

“You aren’t from the postal office are you?” Mrs. Boisie said, suddenly suspicious. “Because that nice young lady was here delivering papers on time yesterday, and I’ll hear nothing from you two about her making mistakes or slacking on the job. I’ve lived here since long before she started working on this street and I can honestly say I’ve never gotten my mail on such a strict schedule before, not with such a bright and enthusiastic smile! That old Ronald who used to work the route, bless his heart, but he was as aged as I am and I know I’m not spry like the young people these days.”

Again, the pale man waited with his mouth half formed on his first sylable, his face absent of expression. “Has the post been today late, Mrs. Boisie?”

“No, I don’t usually get my mail delivered until closer to nine thirty.” she said, “Who are you two?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Boisie, it seems I have been somewhat remiss in my haste to perform my duties, and have forgotten to introduce ourselves.” The pale man said as he slowly lifted his hat straight up, then lowered it straight down, revealing an unkempt mess of thin grey hairs. “We are employees of the Armdale Surveillance and Imaging Company. I am head of security and retrieval, Erstwhile Smith, and this is my assistant, Formerly Brown.”

“Well, Mr. Smith, pleasure to meet you, but I’m not at all clear on what it is you want from me.” Mrs. Boisie said with an unsure shrug of her shoulders.

Formerly Brown, the grey phone still held in front of him, began a slow turn to survey the whole neighbourhood, turning at a very steady rate and holding the little grey camera phone almost perfectly stable the entire time. Seemingly oblivious to his compatriot’s behaviour, Erstwhile Smith continued to fail at smiling and said, “Regretably one of our assets has been misused in this area and we are simply trying to locate and retrieve our valuable property before it or any persons related come to any undue harm.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We have lost a camera from our factory and we require some of the data stored on its memory card.” Smith clarified. “It is a simple plastic camera of a harsh rose colouration and with a rather unique interface. If you have used this device I’m sure this will resonate deeply.”

Mrs. Boisie looked the man straight in the sunglasses and wondered what she was going to tell Glenda when she arrived to find her place still a mess. “I’m sure I had a pink camera like that not too long ago, only I seem to recall I sold it to someone at a yardsale this past weekend. If you want a name I’m not sure I could guess, but I’ve seen him on the street before so I’m sure he lives nearby. A younger fellow, he often walks around with some of the kids attending the college up the road, so you may see him about today if you stay around the roundabout.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Boisie.” Smith said and again lifted his hat mechanically, then made a third unsuccesful attempt at a recognizable smile. “We will take our leave now. I believe you have helped us immensely in our search. I hope you enjoy day.”

“You too. Don’t walk around too much in those suits on a hot day, and I hope you find that toy of yours.” the old woman waved off-handedly as the two men turned and started down the side walk. When they approached the next drive she waved more insistently and called out, “Oh, watch out for Mr. Patterson’s place. He is very protective of his privacy, I think he installed a mine field last week to keep out the IRS.”

“Thank you ma’am, and may you have a lovely day.” Smith called back and turned from Mr. Patterson’s drive to continue down the street.

“Any time.” Mrs. Boisie muttered as she shook her head. Corporate types, always cordial but always stiff. Glancing down at her garden she noticed a small daschund furiously making love to one of her garden gnomes. She quickly grabbed a hoe she kept leaned against her deck and started shooing the animal away. “Get! Scat! Scram! Oh, why do I even have a big dog if it can’t keep these runts from ruining my garden?”

Mrs. Boisie’s former doberman whined as its owner prodded it with the back end of the garden hoe, unable to comprehend why she was so mad at it, only aware that it had to mate with the little garden man as quickly and as often as possible.

Sam, 0830, Tuesday, June 19th, Amy Windsor’s Home

“Laying here like a bitch in heat.” Sam muttered as she squirmed under her own impetus. “I get pissed off, I get horny. I fuck till I’m exhausted, then I get pissed off all over again. The cycle never ends.”

She rolled over and absently slid her thighs over each other, the raw sensation of her tender flesh in motion was enough to make her flush all over again. God, was she hot and bothered. She had been laying on her bed for the last hour and trying to drown out her arousal with sappy love songs and depressing horror novels, but she was finally willing to admit defeat when the song changed just in time to hear a loud moan from below. Sighing vehemently, the dark-haired beauty in her tight black dress walked seductively to the door and rolled her hips as she descended to see the others making a mess of themselves in the living room.

Carl was sitting on the living room chair in a pair of luxury pajamas she didn’t think he would have ever been able to afford. He seemed for all the world to be asleep, but that didn’t stop Amy from riding him up and down like a cowgirl at a rodeo. Naked, and with her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the glow of satisfaction rising, the violet vixen sat on Carl’s lap and faced out to the room, heaving and bucking, firm but bouyant breasts making a good attempt at hitting her chin with every bounce.

“Having fun, are we?” Sam asked flatly, ignoring her desire to join in.

Amy merely moaned and rolled her hips in time with an unheard beat. She was running one hand over her flank and breast while the other augmented her lazy lover’s laconic lusting by teasing and tweaking her clit in time with the motion of her hips. She continued to pulse up and down, riding higher than Sam seemed to recall possible on Carl’s recently average manhood. Amy grunted and thrust like an animal, like a woman possessed by sex itself, her body riding the wave to its crest and washing down the far side. As she let out a keening cry of ecstasy she slid forward off the well-use phalus and onto the floor.

“Yes.” She muttered decisively and rolled on to her back. “Guy’s got a good imagination.”

“What?” Sam crossed her arms and shook her head as her friend slowly reorganized her thoughts. She glanced over at the couch and narrowed her eyes at the sight of Lindsey, still naked and well-inked, curled up with a cup of coffee and watching her back with an expectant look on her face. “What do you want?”

Lindsey shrugged at her words, exagerated no doubt to get her point across, then gestured at Carl’s slowly snoring body. She mimed taking a picture followed by a flurried array of waving and what Sam assumed was an airplane before finally gesturing helplessly at Carl. For was it was worth, Sam understood that the camera had struck again, but was rather unimpressed with the changes. While she and the girls had been changed into sexpots it seemed that Carl was perfectly fine.

Then again, he had technically just been raped.

“Your fault.” Amy said lightly as she pushed herself up to sit on her bare ass. She absently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face only to have it fall right back down and be ultimately ignored. “You threw the camera at Jason and it somehow took a shot of Carl.”

Sam sighed and stamped her foot in frustration. “I caught him getting blown by Lindsey and I lost it. He deserved to be hit with a bowling ball, or something else that would get through his thick skull.”

“This from the girl that blew her best friend’s boyfriend while getting eaten out by the postalwoman.” Amy said without sarcasm or disgust. When she noticed Sam’s expression sour she softened her expression and smiled lightly. “This isn’t a normal situation, you know that right? I think I figured out what happened to Lindsey.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, remember how she looked at Jason before she attacked him?” Amy asked.

“Like Jason looks at a sandwhich.” Sam replied with irritation.

“Right. I think she has to blow guys instead of eating.” Amy said, “It kind of makes sense, right?”

Sam thought for a minute then glanced at Carl’s still exposed member. “That sounds sort of what Jason was trying to say. What about when she attacked me?”

“Maybe you looked like dessert? Maybe variety really is the spice of life? Maybe Lindsey just likes you two as a couple? I don’t know, it wasn’t a perfect theory.” Amy conceeded, the glanced over at their silent companion. “When Carl first came out of the camera’s freeze frame thing Lindsey jumped at him like a cat and blew him pretty damn had. It was hot, that’s for sure. Anyway after he was done she just kind of calmed down and went back to the couch.”

“And when did you decide he needed to get his rocks off again?” Sam rolled her eyes and went over to prod Carl and get his worthless opinion on the matter. “I can’t believe he slept through all that.”

“Yeah, it was a few times too, for both of us.” the voilet vixen smirked, “I just suddenly knew I had to be on top of him I guess. I assumed I was just horny from watching Lindsey at work, but now that I’m thinking about it I’m pretty sure it was an effect from the camera. I got restless and my clothes got itchy, so I stripped them off and then I suddenly had the idea that I was at a rodeo.”

Sam stopped just short of touching Carl, then retracted her hand and looked with trepidation around the room. “No chance the camera is still showing the description page, is there?”

“Nah, I tabbed through it and stuck it in a drawer so it doesn’t get any more people drawn into our little circle of sexual freaks.” Amy said and rose from the floor, still naked.

“Well, that’s good. I’d hate for the plumber or the cable guy to walk in while we’re all getting aquainted with our new bodies. I think I saw that in a movie once.” Sam joked, eliciting a chuckle from her friend. “Okay, time for you to get dressed. I need to go find Jason and apologize for throwing a reality-shreding camera at him.”

“Aw, you don’t want to enjoy yourself on Carl’s new equipment? It stays pretty damn hard the whole time, no matter how much you wring out of him.” Amy said coyly.

“No sell.” Sam rolled her eyes and walked out of the living room to find her shoes.

A little pink camera, 0930, Tuesday, June 19th, Amy Windsor’s Home

More than a little indignant at its position inside a tupperware container, itself located inside a drawer filled with celophane and aluminum foil, the little pink camera reflected on its overreaction to its mistake the day prior. The artists who worked on this locale had never seen so far as to comment on the little pink camera’s work before, so why would they now?

Convinced it had overreacted to the whole mistake with the United States Postal Service worker the little pink camera made a mental note to send a postcard to the nearest branch apologizing for its interuptions in their service. So relaxed was the little pink camera that it almost missed the familiar tingle of a missive being delivered from the artists. With a hesitant pause the little pink camera opened the missive and read a lengthy status report on the continuing experiments and their progress towards the grand plan. It skimmed the document, not being a particularly paper-work oriented camera, and felt its circuitry run hot at the last paragraph on its locale;’s status.

“... and so due to the aforementioned errors the Code Red in charge of this locale had initiated a search for, and recall of, all units performing at or below minimum expectations for Code Pink employees. Code Red hereby authorizes recall personelle to retrieve such defective employees and bring them back to Armdale Processing for reevaluation. We ask for cooperation of all employees in the effected locale until such a time as...”

Oh dear. The little pink camera had never thought things could take such a dark turn. It wasn’t just going to be turned into scrap, it was going to be made an example of for all the other cameras the artists employed! The little pink camera’s processors raced to try and find a way out, then it realized this was also an overreaction. The recall team had to first locate the mis-edited Image, then find out which camera had made the mistake before they could recall the pink little camera. It just had to lay low and keep all its Images inside the house for a few days.

Everything was going to be just fine. The little pink camera just had to keep a clear head and avoid taking any overt actions until the recall team finished their initial survey. If they found that nothing major had come of the mistake then they would leave, right? The grand plan was far to big to be brought down by one or two small mistakes after all. It would take a whole slew of cameras failing at their jobs before the grand plan could be in jeopardy. The little pink camera compiled its Image history to send on to the artists and once more felt itself de-stress.

Confident that it was no longer going to be dissasembled, the little pink camera once more relaxed and went through its memory storage to locate some choice images of a nifty little GoPro in Nepal around a decade ago. As their lenses met the two cameras had snapped a picture and looked at each other with a dirty gleam in their shutters. Defragging itself out of boredom, the little pink camera imagined the things a the sporty little GoPro could do to a little pink camera like itself, and let its lens lose focus to hold the image in its mechanical mind.

Unheard by the little pink camera in its plastic and wood prison there came a heavy knock on the door.

SUBJECT TITLE: Lazy Lover (Carl Saunders) RATED ★★★★★

HEAD: Blue Jowls and Bed Head: Image edited so that hair is unruly, moderate length, and featuring prominent cow-licks. Image’s voice edited to affect a morning growl at all times and will have a tendency to yawn.

BODY: : Playboys Play Hard: Image’s endurance is dramatically increased while the body is changed to show a more physicaly fit appearance. Permanent erection allows for short turn around time on sexual climaxes.

ATTIRE: Leisure Suit Lazy: Image edited so that all attire will become a pair of silk sleepwear. The sleepwear will always have the appearance of having been slept in or of having been put on hastily.

BEHAVE: The Sexual Slouch: Image’s behaviour edited so that its posture is always relaxed. Prefering to sit or lay down in semi-suggestive poses when possible. During intercourse the Image’s partner will be encouraged to expend the most effort.

MISC: Sexsomnia: Image will attempt perform sexual actions upon falling asleep. Members of the opposite gender will become aroused when in proximity to the slumbering Image.

Other edits effected:

Blue Jowls and Bed Head: Image will have a disposition to oral sex when asleep.

Playboys Play Hard: Image will continue pleasing the subject until the subject is exhausted of sexual potential.

Leisure Suit Lazy: Subjects asleep in proximity to the Image will become uncomfortable sleeping or performing intercourse in any clothing.

The Sexual Slouch: Members of the opposite gender in proximity around the Image will perform the sexual actions desired by the sleeping Image while the Image remains asleep.