The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

PART ONE: THE SET-UP

Marinara Hospital has three remarkably odd things about it.

First, it is the first hospital in the world founded by Pastafarians (which makes the decision to serve spaghetti with meatballs in the cafeteria an interesting conundrum- blasphemy or communion?) Next, it has an underground tunnel that nearly every person in it has to travel through every day. Finally, a certified Mad Scientist/Genius lives there.

Jack Jefferson, MS/G was not supposed to live there, you understand, he just did. Dr. Jefferson stumbled into a little-used supply closet off the main utility service tunnel paralleling the pedestrian tunnel several years ago and really liked it. It was dark and musty, quite spacious, had almost unlimited power, had all of the utilities (even a full bath with shower just down the hall), and no telemarketers ever phoned- bonus!

Living on his own amongst the odd electrical fields and chemicals of the bowels of the hospital probably affected Jack more than he was willing to admit. He had taken to calling himself Dr. Ozimandious, using his middle name, because it sounded more like a true certified Mad Scientist/Genius than his given name. This was a bit scary since his middle name was George.

Things went brilliantly for Dr. Ozimandious for years. He invented death rays galore, doomsday bombs by the dozen, shrink rays, growth formulas, and more. He had a loyal henchman in a poor custodian who was looking for a place to smoke on the job, and he had a pet rat that he had turned huge and a pretty shade of vermillion. So far, he was frustrated in he efforts to get his pet rat to speak, even though he was able to raise its IQ to one exceeding his henchman’s.

Thus, his days were filled with purpose and contentment until one day his henchman brought down a skin magazine. “What is this?” Dr. Ozimandious asked his henchman, Dimwit. (He had a different name once, but that was long ago and Dr. Oximandious had no patience for such twaddle.)

“It... its a girly magazine, Master. I thought you might like something different to read.” Dimwit (whose real name was Malathustra-Dr. Ozimandious did not ever admit it, even to himself, but the real reason he renamed him was sheer jealously that he had a cool Mad Scientist-type name.)

“Girly? Girls? Females? That’s right, there are two sexes, aren’t there? This needs research!” Dr. Ozimandious rapidly delved into researching human sexuality. It probably would not surprise anyone that Dr. Ozimandious was a virgin by popular demand. Although not originally terribly unattractive, he always had little time for such social folderal and living in a dank laboratory for several years has not helped anything.

With his impressive IQ, it did not take him long to learn much about human sexuality and decide that he needed to partake in this. He called out for Dimwit. “Fetch me a girl!”

Minutes later, Dimwit drug in a young lady he snagged in the tunnel, tape over her mouth and more tape holding her arms together. “What is this thing, Dimwit? I asked for a girl!” Dr. Ozimandious turned his computer monitor around so Dimwit could see the slideshow of images marching across the screen. “One of these things! This thing you brought me is entirely unsuitable. Wrong height, wrong body mass index, wrong relative proportions. Her face does not arouse me correctly, and she smells funny- or is that you, Dimwit? Take her away and try again.”

A while later, poor Dimwit was being yelled at again. “No no no no! This one is too tall and skinny. And look at all of those wrinkles and the odd faded hair color! How old is she, 100?” The fifty year-old was offended, but well-secured and just glared at the evil man. Dimwit took her away and returned empty handed.

“Doctor, you gotta understand. Most women do not look like the ones in the magazine or on your computer. Those women are the top of the line, and even then, a lot of them have been enhanced or Photoshopped.” Dr. Ozimandious demanded a further explanation. Dimwit pulled up some webcam shots of the hospital to show what most of the people there looked like. Dr. Ozimandious was astonished- not only that Dimwit knew how to do this and he did not, but also at all of the women who did not look like Internet hotties. The Internet lied? That demanded more research.

Research begets research, and Dr. Ozimandious loved his research. Months went by as he dabbled in dark and evil things in his hidden kingdom. He almost totally ignored Dimwit and forgot about his pet rat who went on a rampage in a nearby town- but that is a different story. (Don’t worry, it turns out nicely- the rat was elected mayor and is in line to be the next governor!)

People reported odd thefts throughout the hospital, and an odd maintenance man was often seen doing odd things in the tunnel. Dimwit found him one day blasting slime molds with one of his doomsday devices hooked up to a death ray, and spent another day listening to weird music in his headphones that left him with the odd sensation that not only did he really, REALLY like Dr. Ozimandious, but he also had an insane craving for Spam sushi.

One glorious day, Dr. Ozimandious took Dimwit out into the tunnel during a quiet period. “Behold my genius!” The evil doctor chuckled, evilly. He gave Dimwit a tour of the tunnel. “This is the starting point- every person is bombarded with subliminals that make the men walk on the left side, women on the right. Then, the subliminals tell everyone to ignore anything out of the ordinary.” The proceeded down the tunnel a bit. “Now, the women are engulfed in an electromagnetic field from the cables hidden just behind the walls. The fields rearrange their brainwaves just enough for new round of subliminals to begin to reprogram their minds. Come.”

Dr. Ozimandious took Dimwit past a series of small nozzles. “These spray a nano-particle cloud that the women will breathe in deeply, then they pass this ATM-looking machine where they will have their DNA read, fingerprints and photographs taken, and answer some basic demographic questions. A spray hypo will also inject a series of drugs to facilitate the desired changes. Come.”

About ½ way down the tunnel the pair passed through a series of baffles, like metal detectors. “These panels determine which person is passing through and send out encoded micro-burst instructions to their particular nano-particles and begin the desired physical changes. Cameras and antenna throughout the rest of the hall ensure that the process is moving smoothly. Each day the person returns, the process is adjusted to suit their situation. Genius, eh?”

Dimwit looked down the long corridor. “But Master, what about women coming from this direction?” He asked.

“Never call me Buttmaster, you stu... huh? From THIS end? They do that?” Dimwit assured him that most of the people who entered the hospital also exited it. “Damnation! Great Vermicelli’s Ghost! Why the hell would people leave? I’ll never understand these creatures. Damn, damn, damn...” He trod off, mumbling to himself, leaving Dimwit behind shaking his head. ‘I love the SOB, but what an idiot’ he thought.

A few weeks later and Dr. Ozimandious was proudly showing the Tunnel of Change v.2.0 to Dimwit. He dutifully listened to his master ramble on and on about the troubles he had duplicating the process but making sure it knew if the person had already been infected, ‘if gates’, and and nand processors, redundant systems and so on ad nauseum.

He finally stopped speaking to bask in Dimwit’s adulation. “That is truly wonderful Master! But, I did not hear how it tells useful victims from children and the elderly?”

“What?” Dr. Ozimandious sputtered. “Children? CHILDREN? What the hell are children doing here? And why on Earth would an old person be in a hospital for crying out loud? They are full of germs and sick people and stuff- kids and old people should not be around these sort of things!” Once again, the walls echoed with Dr. Ozimandious’ fading cries of “Damn!”

A week later, Dr. Ozimandious took Dimwit on yet another tour. “OK, first, the subliminals tell young and old people to walk in the middle and ignore the rest of the stuff, and the ATM-like machine asks for age and automatically kicks out anyone under sixteen and over fifty-five. Happy?”

“This is awesome, Master! So, what are you going to do with all those slaves?” Dimwit asked.

“’All those slaves’? What do you mean, fool?” The evil doctor demanded.

“Well, like about four hundred women have to go through this tunnel every day. Some go through all of the time, and there are like hundreds of visitors every day, not to mention salespeople, vendors, and such. Why, I bet you’ll have a thousand slaves in about a week!” Dimwit’s face glowed with happiness for his master.

“A thou... a thou... a thou...” Dr. Ozimandious seemed to have locked himself into an infinite loop as he walked away repeating ‘a thou’ over and over.

Over the next couple months, a few late-night maintenance workers were quietly dismissed for drinking on the job after reporting scary activities and lights in the side tunnels late at night.

“Viola,” Dr. Ozimandious exclaimed to Dimwit after several long months of ceaseless labor. “The ultimate female companion device! Starting from either side, devices in and around the tunnel start to bombard people with subliminals. Men, young and old women, and women with known issues sort to one side, the others move on the other in two directions. They stop at the several ATM-like machines lining the walls to key in demographic information, get a RFID injection, and get scanned in several ways- all while the subliminals continue working, this time on their ideas of who and what they are.

“Next, the nebulizers flood them with a series of nano-particles that infiltrate their bodies as the scanner processes their DNA and other information. They continue on through a scent field that pre-dispositions them to arousal, happiness, and docility.

“By now the scanners have selected the daily targets and they are sent to one of the women’s restrooms for further processing while the other women are given generic instructions just in case I decide to take them later.

“In the bathrooms, they will enter a stall and sit as the nanos process them and they listen to several coded messages preparing them for the last phase. They will go about their lives for three more days, wrapping things up, then reporting for duty. How’s that for sheer evil genius?” Dr. Ozimandious finally wrapped up.

“I am truly overwhelmed, Master, but what ab...” Dr. Ozimandious shot him with a memory-erasing tranquilizer dart and shoved him into laundry tub.

“Who the hell needs henchmen when one has slaves?” The evil genius was heard muttering as he stomped back to his lair.

PART TWO: THE TEST RUN

Dr. Ozimandious chose to not spy on his converts so he would be surprised, and so he was caught literally with his pants down a week later when he heard a female-like voice call out just outside his bedroom as he was getting dressed.

Tossing on a robe he answered the door to reveal a very Internet-like female wearing a bikini. “Hi, I’m like, your slave, right?”

Dr. Ozimandious looked her over. She was perfect- blonde, shorter than he was, soft and well-rounded- especially in her gluteous maximus and fatty tissues overlaying her pectoralis majors while still slender in the external obliques and abdominals. She looked just like slide number 724, but with green eyes instead of blue... and of course, her hair was about 2.6 centimeters shorter- but no one is perfect.

The evil genius opened his mouth to give her her first instruction... and froze. What the hell did he want her to do? He suddenly realized that he had not planned this far. “Wha... what do YOU want to do?” He asked.

“Ohhh, I’d love to suck your cock!” She giggled. Visions of her nursing on poultry crossed his mind before he caught on- fellatio, blow jobs, oral sex, giving head... he suddenly felt very uncomfortable in his recently-donned slacks. Before he could react, she had his pants down again and touched him where no one had touched him before.

After he ejaculated all over her, she smilingly licked it all up and tried again. “Oh my GOD” he said. “THIS is what ‘sex’ is? And I spent all my life in these tunnels?? Damn!”

“Silly.” She said. “That wasn’t sex. THIS is.” And she proceeded to screw him silly.

When his slave checked on him three hours later, he was still flat on his back smiling, repeating something that sounded like ‘humina’ over and over. “Are you OK, Master?” She asked, touching him lightly.

“Can we do that again?” He asked.

“Sure!” She smiled and climbed on him again. She tried, she really did, but, well, you know- willing spirit, weak flesh.

“What is happening? Why isn’t it working?” He shouted.

“Most men can only come a couple of times in a row then need to recharge, Master. Perhaps that applies to you as well?” She said, a pretty pout on her red lips.

“Nonsense! I am a Mad Scientist/Genius, superior to mere mortals. I can overcome thizzzz.” He fell fast asleep. The pretty girl sighed and looked around for things to do for her master.

Dr. Ozimandious woke to the smell of something unfamiliar... something like... food? Maybe coffee as well? How odd. He arose and found the young girl hard at work scrubbing what passed for his kitchen in the depths of the maze of the utilities tunnels in the underground section of Marinara Hospital. It looked funny- like it was new and fresh. What was the word he was looking for? Clean- that was it! It was clean and shiny and smelled so good it made his stomach rumble and his penis erect at the same time. Now what to do?

“Have a seat Master, let me offer you something to eat.” Well, that settled that. He pulled up a chair and sat down to a plate full of absolutely delicious looking food.

“Thank you... uh... what is your name, anyway?” Dr. Ozimandious asked.

The girl blushed in a way that made him harder. “My name was Mary, but you can all me anything you want. What is your name, if I may ask, Master?”

“Dr. Ozimandious” Dr. Ozimandious answered, trying to make his voice deep and evil.

“Ozimandias, as in the poem by Shelly?” Mary asked. Dr. Ozimandious did not like the idea of being named after a poem by a girl.

“My other name is Jeff Jackerson... er, I mean Jack Jefferson. Dr. Jack Jefferson, Certified Mad Scientist and Genius.”

“May I call you Jack or Jacky?” Mary asked, stroking his face.

“Baby, you can call me anything you want.” Dr. Jacky leered.

“Good! Jacky, can we fuck again?” She smiled and his heart exploded and melted. She bent over the table and pulled her bikini bottoms off as he tried to pull off his pants and fell over. He finally got his pants off and his penis aligned with her labia and began to insert himself as he felt his brain melt again as her wet heat engulfed him. A few short thrusts and he came again. “Uh, Master, are you, like, done? Is that it for you?”

“What? It was great! I’ve never felt anything like that before. Why? What do you mean? Is there a problem?”

“Well, hun, it was great and all, after all, you are my master, but, it really did not do that much for me.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. She explained, then was shocked when he vanished into his study muttering something about ‘research’. She shrugged her shoulders and continued cleaning.

Every few hours she would knock on the door and bring him a sandwich or milk or something. They would make small talk during these visits. During one, she showed him a photo of her from ‘before’— somewhat lumpy and plain, nothing like the babe she was now. A normal person might have asked about her background, but Jack was definitely not normal.

The next time Dr. Ozimand..., er, Dr. Jefferson, MS/G came out of his retreat, there were three Internet-type females sitting on the couch in bikinis, talking.

“What the he... Oh, yeah- if the Tunnel of Change v.3.2 is working correctly, it will create an average of three females a day, won’t it. Damn. I never quite figured out what to do with even one slave, and now I have three. Damn, and the Tunnel of Change v.3.2 has been running for (mumbling to himself- ‘carry the three, divide by pi)... ELEVEN FUCKING DAYS? What in the HELL will I do with 33 slaves? There is not THAT much stuff here to clean! Dear FSM- how will I feed them all? It was hard enough scrounging for food for Dimwit, the rat and me. I wonder where the rat is? Where will they sleep? How can I possibly fuck 33 women? I’ve got to...” Once again, Dr. Ozimandious, or Jefferson, or whatever the hell his name is now shuffled off mumbling.

A short time later, he returned. “Mary, come with me.” He demanded as he strode away.

“This,” He said, gesturing to the Tunnel, “Is the Tunnel of Change v.4.0. While the V.3 Tunnel made me about 3 slaves a day, this one combines aural, chemical, nano, bio-electrical, recombinant geno-microbial, and inverted sino-scapular processes to prepare women for my enslavement, but lets them go about a fairly normal life until I am ready for them. In the meantime, however, they will become healthier, more femininely shaped, and develop a preference for proper clothing and support garments.”

“Master, don’t you think that other people would become suspicious of this?”

“What do you mean?” He replied, rubbing his head.

“Well, if dozens of women suddenly start to look and dress differently, won’t their co-workers, husbands, boyfriends, friends, or family notice?” She asked.

The evil doctor got a far-away look on his face. “Yeah, that is sort of what families do, isn’t it? Interpersonal relationships, meddling, that sort of thing. Hmmm, I can adjust the illudium Q-36 explosive space modulator for a more subtle response- the changes would be slower and seem to be driven by other motivations. Do you think this would be socially acceptable?” He asked as he fondled the tranquilizer dart gun in his pocket.

“Well, if you really need more slave, Master, then I guess it would be OK. Can’t you just shut the thing down for now?”

Shut it down?” He asked, his face twitching. “Shut it down? SHUT it down? Shut IT down? Shut it DOWN?” He mumbled as he shuffled back to his lair.

Mary shook her head and flounced along after him.

Meanwhile back in the Abode of Evil, Dr. Jefferson was confronted by the earlier two nubile nearly nude naughties. They stood and spoke, almost as one. “Hello Master. How may we serve you?”

“Are any of you any good at tri-phasic trans-dimensional math?”

Eventually the evil doctor got the three squared away working on errands- fetching supplies, making up additional bedrooms, giving him a hot-oil massage and other sundry tasks. He learned that one of the new slaves was named Tiffany, and one was Violet. He could not keep track of which was which, even though one was a short, busty, dusky-skinned brunette and the other was a tall, lithe, fair-skinned hottie who dyed her hair purple.

That night, he called Mary into his private inner sanctum. “I have completed my research and want to try sex again.” Mary smiled and took him by the hand to the bed. She slipped off her bikini and stroked his face. Jack was glad he took some of the small blue pills a while ago as he felt himself strainingly erect as her hand drifted down his chest and into his pants.

He removed his lab coat and scrubs quickly and awkwardly, tripping over the pants, which put his face right into Mary’s big, soft bosom. A fuse blew in his brain and he buried his face in her fragrant flesh, blowing raspberries, wobbling his face back and forth rapidly, and generally making a fool of himself. Mary laughed and guided his mouth to a nipple as she fondled her Master’s cock.

By everything noodly, Jack found himself in heaven- mouth full of nipple, cock surrounded by a soft hand that was not his? Perfect. When Mary pushed him back into a chair and sat on his cock, he found a new definition of perfect. When she arched her back and began to rock on his cock, the definition changed again.

Soon, he was humping up at her as she was bouncing on him. Part of his brain was watching the patterns her nipples were making in the air and calculating the fractal formulas that described their motion, even as another part of his powerful brain was going ‘yippee! Ride’em cowboy!’ He tried to remember his research- maximizing the pleasure of the activity for both partners in order to facilitate the greatest possible reward payout, but at that point he barely remembered the 343rd decimal of pi.

Thanks to the Viagra and the myriad distractions in his mind, he managed to outlast Mary as she shuddered through a powerful orgasm. Her movements and screams brought his focus back to the fact that a really hot woman was sitting naked on his boner, which caused him to blow as well.

“That was great!” He cried. “Let’s do it again!”

“Whew, doc. That was a lot better and I need to catch my breath. Why not call Tiff or Vi?” The evil doctor saw the benefit of the idea, and since to him, to think is to act, he soon had both other hotties in front of him.

“Fuck me. Fuck me now!” He ordered. The two exchanged a look, smiled, and attacked. They were a blinding fury of boobs, bikini parts, and bologna (they were interrupted during lunch.) They gave him titty-fucks, four-hand jobs, two-on-one blow jobs, an accidental ass-fucking, and pounded their pussies on him as hard as they could over and over as one of the three was generally cumming at all times.

“Help me. Help me now!” He cried. Mary smiled and tossed a couple of dildos into the dervish. The two hungry women ignored the rather small Dr.’s cock for the big toys as the doctor crawled to his private retreat and locked the door.

PART THREE: OOPS

It was several days later when the inner sanctum doors opened and out strode a vision of masculine power. Dr. Ozimandious had used some of his genius on himself and was taller, stronger, hung like a horse, and had the endurance of a marble statue. He wore a blazing red lab coat that buttoned on one shoulder and the thick gloves of his hero-Dr. Horrible.

He stepped forward ready to take charge of Mary, Tiffany, and what’s her name when he was confronted with a well-organized squadron of 33 beautiful bikini-wearing women of all sizes and types who smiled, knelt and said, in perfect unison “Greetings Master, how may we serve you?”

“Master? Master, are you OK?” Mary asked as she cradled her awakening master’s head on her creamy thighs.

“5 more minutes, mommy. I don’t wanna go to school today.”

“Master! Wake up!”

“Mommy, why do you got big titties?”

“Master! Jack! Honey! Wake up! You can keep feeling my boobies cuz it feels so good, but you gotta wake up hun!” Dr. Ozimandious sputtered as his head cleared and he slowly sat up, noting that nearly 3 dozen women were staring at him.

“I’m fine, mommy, er, I mean, Slave Mary. Who are all of these other women?”

“Well, I’ve prepared a dossier on each with before and after photos, cues to help you remember their names, special skills and abilities each has, and how much money they have contributed to your account. Oh, and to help you out further, each of their names is written on the top and bottom of their bikinis.”

Dr. Ozimandious looked around and saw names like Suzi, Angi, and Sammi written neatly over each left boobie. “Are these their real names?” He asked.

“Well, sort of. We decided to simplify the real names to make it easier for you to remember, Master, since you seem to have trouble with that sometimes.”

“Reasonable. And what did you mean by skills and abilities?”

“You’ve collected yourself an interesting group, Master! Sammi is a chef, while Bobbi May is a heart surgeon. Sandi is one of the best cock-suckers in the city, maybe the state, and Bobbi Lee has done some exotic dancing and stripping. Let’s see. Bobbi Jo was an electronics engineer, Leann is a fitness instructor and interior designer, Cortni did...”

“Enough. I can read it later.” All of the information was making his head spin and the crowd was making him nervous. “I... I really don’t know what to do here. I don’t like this feeling. What... what should I do?”

Mary dismissed the horde and stroked his head soothingly. “Why did you make the Tunnel of Change in the first place? What was your original plan?”

“Why, to enslave lovely women, of course!”

“But why, Master? What were you going to do with them?”

“I dunno. It just seemed the thing to do. Mad Scientists and enslaved harems seem to go together, like emulsified legumes and gelatinized fruits. I guess I did not think this through, though. Do I need to have sex with all of them?”

“You are the Master. If you want to have sex with them, they will gladly comply. If you don’t, they will suffer in silence but obey you. Why?”

“Well... I just liked doing it with you a lot but I really did not like it so much with Tiffany and what’s her name.”

Mary smiled. “Why, thank you! That is so sweet. By the way, her name is Violet.”

“Who?”

“Violet. ‘Whats her name’ is Violet- the one with the purple hair.”

“Bah, I’ll never remember that. Anyway, what should I do?”

“You are the Master, I would not presume to instruct you, but if I can make a suggestion...”

“Yes, yes.” He interrupted. “but first, let’s fuck.” He strode off to his inner sanctum. He came out a minute later and grabbed Mary’s arm and pulled her in with him. “Damn. I’d forget my head if it was not attached.”

In his inner sanctum, Dr. Ozimandious opened his lab coat to reveal his new muscular body and big cock. Mary stared at it. “It will never fit, Master.”

“What do you mean?”

“My god, Master, that thing is not a cock, it’s a forearm! How big is it?”

“I set it to be as big as those in some of the stories I read- 46cm long and 30cm around. Why?”

“Master! That is, what, about 18″ and almost 12″ around? How big do you think I am down there?”

“But... Doesn’t it stretch?”

“Yes, but not THAT much.”

“Well, can you suck it?” She shook her head. “Take it up your as...” She shook her head harder. “Hand job?” She smiled and nodded. She purred as she rubbed her hands, mouth, lips, and even her breasts over his thick, knobby shaft, kneading his giant balls, kissing them one by one, massaging his strong belly and cooing sexy things at him.

When he came, it smacked her across the room and splattered her against the wall. “OK, OK, you win.” He mumbled, turning back to his inner, inner sanctum to retool. He took Mary with him and her yells quite disturbed the other women who were not sure whether to call for help or join in.

A couple days later, Dr. Ozimandious strode back out and whipped off his pants. “Behold, the perfect cock!” He declared. “Exactly 25 centimeters long and 15 around, designed to be filling to a female’s vaginal vault.” Mary grinned at this, remembering the measuring process. “Gaze upon it, my slaves, and worship!”

Scientists from three states away looked at their seismographs and went “What the fuck?” Glasses vibrated off the tables in the cafeteria two stories above. Air conditioners kicked in throughout the hospital to deal with the rise in temperatures. Psychiatric patients in the far wing gathered at the air ducts to listen to the noises in their heads more clearly. True believers in the chapel swore that the statue of the Flying Spaghetti Monster’s meatballs grew three sizes.

When the dust settled, Dr. Ozimandious was crawling over a writhing mass of slick, toned, Internet-quality flesh, all struggling to get some body part in contact with his perfect phallus. He made it to a wide couch that became his Royal Throne of Pleasure. He grabbed the closest female, a perky red-head with a pleasantly exaggerated upper chest and shoved his cock... somewhere. It was warm and slippery, and she moaned appreciatively and it was kind of dark and crowded... but it felt really good. She came and he traded her for a chocolate-skinned beauty with elegant nipples and interestingly tinted labia. He was amazed at how different each woman felt. This one was so snug, but was also doing something to him with her insides. He came and when his eyes finally uncrossed, he grabbed another.

He was taking his sweet time fucking his way through the multitude, so the ones furthest away started making supper or cleaning the mess, rotating with the ones recovering from their experiences. Working together, the many hands made light work. Eventually the horde was satisfied and Dr. Ozimandious was panting. Mary brought him a drink and a plate.

PART FOUR: UPWARD AND ONWARD

Dr. Jack Jefferson, PhD, MD, CPAP, MS/G was sitting at his fashionable desk in the corner office. He checked his on-line scheduler to determine who was under the desk sucking him off. ‘Ah’, he thought. ‘Bobbi Sue’. He hit the intercom. “Mary, come in here please.”

Mary strode in wearing a very chic designer suit that showed her off as a very sexy but very professional career woman. “Yes sir?”

“What is the deal with C-Wing?” He asked, pointing at the chart on the screen. “Their income is down almost 7.5 percent.”

“Oh, that. The state examiners came through last week. We had to give out a lot of comp passes to hush them up. Actually, we ended up processing one of the old biddies on their crew and gave some treatments to the men as well. The SOBs almost wore out the poor girls in the wing after that. But, if you’ll notice, we now have the entire 4th floor under our control.”

“You mean we finally got the damn surgeons converted? Yes! So, who are the main holdouts?”

“Let’s see, the entire OB-GYN and pediatrics staff is on board; oncology, med/surg is now converted; geriatrics and bariatrics are at about 86%. Physical plant, dietary, HR, and phlebotomy are at about 80% and rising rapidly. The labs, accounting and patient escort are the biggest holdouts. Our techs tell us that the lab geeks may be tough since the fields around their machines seem to offer some protection from the process. Oh, and the Nobel committee has called again about whether you will reconsider allowing them to honor you and publish your work on curing most known diseases with your tunnel.”

“Tell the Nobel committee to go blow themselves. (pause) Go blow themselves? Alfred Nobel? TNT? Get it? Yeesh. Coordinate a special offer with the cafeteria hotties- offer holdouts a coupon for a free smoothie and fuck’em when they come to redeem it, using that special vaginal lube we created. Anything else?”

“The First Church and Pasta Parlor of the Flying Spaghetti Monster is still protesting the weekly pasta wrestling. They feel it is blasphemous.”

“Damn. I’d go with gelatin, but the oil in the pasta just makes the girls skin so soft. Try pitching it to them as a sacrament- getting intimate with his noodly goodness. Maybe we can add meatballs? Damn. I’m getting hungry. Let’s break for lunch. Bobbi Sue? Come up here honey, let’s hit some lunch. Anyone up for Italian?”

Mary and Bobbi Sue simultaneously called out “NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”