The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

MILLION DOLLAR CHERRY

CHAPTER 1—CONTESTANT SEARCH

The audition started with a cattle call of about two dozen candidates. After everyone had been seated, an impeccably-suited middle-aged fellow came in and stood at the front of the room.

“Hello, folks. My name is Jack Johnson; I’m the contestant recruiter for Got Your Number. That’s the show you’re all trying out for, right?” A mumble of assent came from the room. “Good. When I saw some of the lovely young ladies in the room, I thought I might have walked into a Million Dollar Cherry cattle call by mistake.”

The joke drew scattered snickers. Brandie just rolled her eyes. Jane had made the same joke yesterday when she’d mentioned trying out for the show. Jane had an annoying habit of teasing her for having a name that looked like it belonged under a “GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS” sign next to a neon animation of a pole-dancer. Oh, well, she could shrug it off for a friend who was willing to cat-sit, and she could shrug it off for a middle-management studio guy who was just trying to break the ice.

“Now, let’s get started. First, we’re going to divide you into groups and run through a few test rounds of the game. At that point, we’ll select a group of finalists for additional screen tests using the portable studio setup.”

Brandie’s group ran through three rounds of Got Your Number. The play was just like the TV game show, only with index cards and a chalkboard filling in for the studio displays. Brandie did fairly well, but only won one round, so she was a bit surprised to hear her name called as one of the finalists.

Jack greeted each of the departing applicants with a thank-you message and a little package of consolation gifts. Finally, he turned to the four remaining candidates. “If you’ll follow me...?”

A little way down the hall, he opened a door. Inside was a room with two seats and a couple of cameras. “Arthur and Jean, if you’ll please be seated, we’ll begin the screen test in a few moments.”

Brandie and the other remaining candidate—Wanda, if she remembered right—were guided to the end of the corridor and around a corner where the hallway was blocked by a security door. As the host punched in the combination, Wanda asked him what was such a big secret; Jack replied that the building used to belong to a defense contractor and this was their high-security wing.

Behind another combination-locked door was another studio setup. This one was more elaborate, with a large manager-style office chair faced by four cameras and a large monitor. Jack waved toward the seat. “Wanda, please have a seat and we’ll begin in a moment.” As she sat down, he continued, “Just wait for the lights to dim and the screen to turn on.”

“How come this setup is so much fancier than the other one?” Brandie asked.

“We’d like to have more setups like this, but we do what we can,” Jack answered. OK, that sounded reasonable enough. Maybe the two of them were the most promising finalists, and the other two were marginal ones. “There’s another setup in the next room for you.” He gestured for Brandie to follow, and closed the door. It made a loud metallic click as the combination pad flashed.

Sure enough, the next room contained a similar arrangement. Brandie sat down. “So, wait for the lights to dim and the screen to turn on?”

Jack nodded. “Exactly. Now, if you’ll excuse me...?” He then left and pulled the door shut behind him. Inside the room, the click of the closing door was even louder and more annoying.

Brandie leaned back into the chair headrest and waited.

After a minute or so, the lights quickly dimmed and went out completely. The monitor then came to life. Instead of the game-show question and clues Brandie was expecting, a swirl of colors danced across the display. For a moment, Brandie wondered if the monitor was shorting out. Then she marveled at the intricacy and beauty of the display. Then she simply stared at the dancing lights.

* * *

Jack sat in the control room at the end of the hall, in front a large collection of display screens. He glanced at the feed from the main camera in the first room, which showed Arthur and Jean being run through a head-to-head round of Got Your Number. They looked like promising candidates for that show.

But his real focus was on Wanda and Brandie. He carefully examined their body language and facial expressions, and studied the data feeds from the sensors in their chair headrests. Both seemed to be fully entranced. He activated the headrest inducers for a ninety-second cycle to amplify the hypnotic effect.

As a test, he powered up the little remote-control toy airplanes that had been left sitting inconspicuously in a corner of each room. The subjects showed no reaction to the sound or rapid motion, even when the planes veered off from near-collisions with their faces. They were aware of nothing but the shimmering patterns on their respective screens.

They were ready for the next phase.

A technician wheeled a small cart into Wanda’s room. On top of it was a laptop computer and something that looked like a motorcycle helmet, with a data cable connecting them. He delicately placed the helmet onto Wanda’s head, then looked intently at the laptop screen. Satisfied, he walked out the door, and a few seconds later brought another cart to Brandie’s room and repeated the procedure.

Jack began the process of probing each subject’s subconscious. He ferreted out hints of their repressed fantasies and how easily they might be brought closer to the surface. He weighed their thrill-seeking and glory-craving tendencies and the degree to which they might be amplified. He analyzed their patterns of resolving conflicts between desires and inhibitions and the ways in which those decisions could be influenced.

Finally, he decided that Wanda was not a suitable candidate. The technician returned to her room, punched a few keys on the computer, and then quickly removed the equipment.

A few minutes later, Wanda blinked and shook her head. The screen in front of her displayed a typical Got Your Number bonus-round question. That screen had just flaked out, and then gone blank... and now everything was normal. The door opened, and a staffer walked in and introduced herself.

Jack monitored Wanda’s room until he was satisfied that she suspected nothing amiss, and was too wrapped up in her Got Your Number screen test to give her odd zone-out moment any further thought. She, too, would be a contestant on their nice little tame respectable game show.

Brandie, on the other hand, was definite Million Dollar Cherry material.

He began tweaking some of the promising predilections he’d found lurking beneath the surface of her mind.

* * *

Brandie was standing on a stage. There was a huge audience out there somewhere, all interested in her. She knew that it wasn’t real. But it could be, if that’s what she wanted.

Looking down at herself, she saw that she was hardly wearing any clothes, just a bikini that left very little to the imagination. It was naughty. Delightfully naughty. She was flying into the teeth of taboo, and it was exhilirating. And, really, what was the harm in being seen in a skimpy bikini?

She was here to be a game-show contestant; to compete and win money and be the center of attention. Yes, she definitely remembered that was true. Everything else resulted from that. So everything else must be definitely true, too.

It all felt so right. She would win prizes, and be seen and applauded. Even the act of parading her body felt right. She was just as proud of her good looks and physical condition as she was of her quick wit and extensive education. Why shouldn’t she be?

The only thing that could go wrong would be is she lost the game. She was confident that wouldn’t happen. She would put on a great show, the best show of all.

To be sure, there were stakes being put at risk in this game...

Looking down at herself again, she realized that she was topless. It was embarrassing. But she’d lost her top fair and square, in a wager she’d accepted. Trying to back out now or renege was unthinkable. And, really, it wasn’t all that embarrassing. Judging from the reactions of the spectators out there, she was putting on a good show. That was the important thing.

She was naked, and something was holding her arms out away from her body and her legs apart from each other. Her body was on full display. She felt embarassed again, but realized that the only real cause for chagrin was that she’d gotten into this situation by making blunders during the game. But she hadn’t lost yet. And she was definitely putting on a crowd-pleasing performance.

So this was all right. She felt the thrill of a good competition. Even letting herself be stripped and bound was part of the thrill. She was paying off her losses like a good sport, while continuing to strive for victory in the end. The joy of honorable competition and living by the rules of this stage blended with an impish delight in thumbing her nose at rules that applied elsewhere, not here.

The frisson of excitement peaked as she realized that she was one move away from victory... or defeat. She would either claim her prize... or be claimed as a prize.

There were people on the stage, waiting for an opportunity to collect on her ultimate wager. If she lost the game completely, she would spend the evening as a sexual plaything. She vaguely recalled that she ought to find the notion horrifying. Instead, it piqued her curiosity.

And now the game was over. She’d lost. She felt annoyance and regret at failing to win the prize. The fact that she was to be someone else’s prize was nothing to worry about. In fact, it was another chance to put on a good show.

She did feel a bit of alarm when she noticed that some of the people eyeing her were women. One of the women stepped away from the group and approached her. Was she supposed to have sex with this woman? She’d never done that before.

Nervousness gave way to a more pleasant sensation, just like the thrill of victory and acclaim but more intense. She looked at the woman again, and realized that she resembled her friend Jo from college. Jo was a lesbian, and freely admitted to being rather disappointed that Brandie wasn’t.

Occasionally, she’d had dreams....

Every so often, she’d wake up remembering a dream where Jo somehow talked her into a bit of sexual experimentation, or simply swept her off her feet in a moment of passion. Images flooded through her mind of Jo taking her by the hand and kissing her... their bosoms rubbing together as they both found themselves suddenly naked... their bodies lying side by side on silk sheets... a touch between her legs, moving closer and closer to her pussy....

Whenver she woke up from one of those dreams, she’d told herself that she wasn’t like that, and eventually gone back to sleep. But now the denials felt like the dream, and the erotic images felt more like memories of real events.

She didn’t have to worry about it. If she did lose the game, then of course she would hold up her end of the bargain. That meant giving herself over to whoever was chosen to collect on her wager, be it a man or a woman. That much was settled the moment she decided to seek the prize and agreed to play the game. That thought gave her a paradoxical sense of freedom. If she lost, well, so be it, and she would embrace her fate.

All she had to concern herself with was putting on a good performance—for her audience, and for her partner.

Win or lose, the show was the important thing.

* * *

Brandie blinked and shook her head. The screen had flickered like it was going to short out, and then it had gone dark, but now it was showing what she’d come here to see.

It was showing the “So You Want To Be A Contestant On Million Dollar Cherry“ introductory orientation. The main title menu appeared over a beauty shot of a beach where a topless volleyball game was in progress.

Jack was standing just to the left of her chair. “Would you like to see the whole feature, of do you have any specific questions I can answer for you first?”

“Actually, can we just go ahead and take care of the paperwork?”

Jack shook his head. “Our policy is to make sure you see the introduction and have a full opportunity to answer questions before we sign you up. It’s only about twenty minutes.”

“All right.” Jack fished a remote control out of his pocket and started the presentation.

A map of the Carribean appeared on the screen as the narrator gave a quick description of the beautiful and lush Cayhamian Islands. The scene shifted to the Million Dollar Cherry main studios and how they had been established there to take advantage of local laws.

About that point, the first flashes of subliminal reinforcement played. Carefully keeping his back to the monitor, Jack watched Brandie’s expression relax while her eyes become more focused and attentive. He then stepped out to return to the control room and monitor her chair sensors.

As the presentation ended with a blare of triumphant horns, Jack returned. Brandie paid no attention to him until the last notes faded away and the screen went blank.

“Well, Brandie? Did that explain all you want to know, or do you have any more questions?”

“I just want to get signed up so I can get on the show as soon as you have an opening!”

Jack grinned. “Excellent.”

Ten minutes later, Brandie was on her way home, having signed a stack of acceptances, waivers, and travel documents. As soon as the red tape had been processed, she would have plane tickets, a rental car, a Cayhamian sex-worker license, a resort hotel reservation, and everything else she would need to make the trip and do the show.

The next day, she got a message saying that everything was taken care of, and that she could pick up her travel information and documentation at her earliest convenience.

In one week, the show would go on.