The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This story is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance between any characters or situations herein and anyone or anything in real life is strictly in the mind of the reader.

Synopsis: A sexy B movie is made for video, and for other reasons.

Bikini Hypnotists From Beyond the Heavens

Jim Andrews could hardly believe it. He was actually going to get to audition to be in a movie!

Okay, it wasn’t a high-class movie. In fact, it was a B sci-fi beach flick, being made for video, the kind of thing someone like Fred Olen Ray might do: “Bikini Hypnotists From Beyond the Heavens.” But it was a movie, just the same.

When the contest entry had come to him by e-mail, he’d filled it out and sent it in as a joke. He’d been startled when a follow-up e-mail had requested more information, including pictures both of his face in close-up and of him in a brief pair of trunks. And now he’d been notified that he was supposed to report to the shooting location for a personal interview. Actually, the way this message made it sound, the interview was just a formality: it had instructed him that the picture was expected to take up to six weeks to film, and that he should bring enough clothes and other necessities for that time and make whatever other arrangements might be necessary.

Living in L.A., of course, you couldn’t help but have some contact with Hollywood. Jim, though, was a recent immigrant to California who had moved out from Massachusetts after getting a degree in psychology and discovering it was almost useless in getting a job. He’d made the move figuring that even if he had as much time finding work in La-La-Land as he’d been having in the Bay State, at least it would be warmer in the winter.

The movie site was almost exactly as he’d pictured it. A two-hour drive from Los Angeles, it was a cluster of props, set elements and prefab buildings set along a line of cliffs overlooking a stretch of beach. More spilled over onto the beach itself. It reminded him a little of the carnivals which had sometimes come to town when he was a kid; it had that same air of gaudy impermanence.

Suddenly, his musings were interrupted by a feminine voice. “Excuse me,” the voice said. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Er, yes,” Jim stammered. “I’m supposed to report for an interview. Where do I go?”

“Oh, it’s over there,” came the reply, accompanied by an arm-wave toward a corrugated metal shack in the distance. The speaker was a short, very well-built girl with lots of wavy mahogany hair piled high, making her look taller than she really was. If her face wasn’t quite beautiful, it was certainly very pretty, with large green eyes, a short nose and full lips. Embarrassed, Jim felt himself getting hard as he looked at her, and struggled to conceal his reaction.

“Thanks,” he managed, moving off.

“No problem! See you around.” Behind him, the dark-haired girl smiled broadly at his retreating back.

The interview, unlike the movie site, was not what he’d expected at all. Considering the building it was in, the casting director’s office was surprisingly fancy-looking, with paintings on the walls, rich carpeting, soft lighting which seemed to come from nowhere in particular. And the director—!

Jim had been picturing some aging, leathery guy—or maybe a fat, balding type with a cigar dangling from his mouth. Instead:

“I’m Margo Lanning,” came a sultry voice from across the paneled oak desk in front of him. It belonged to a stunning woman in her late thirties with short black hair. The business suit she wore did nothing to conceal that she had a startling figure; the emerald brooch she wore, in particular, focused Jim’s attention on her ample chest, making it hard for him to look her in the eyes. When he managed to do so, he saw an amused expression on her flawless face. She was fully aware of the effect she was having on him. “I believe you were expecting to speak with me?”

“Er, uh, yes,” Jim managed. “My name is Jim Andrews. I’m here for the, the interview?”

“Ah, yes.” Ms. Lanning smiled. “Do sit down, Jim. May I call you Jim?” He nodded and groped his way to a chair, eyes still fastened on her.

“I’m satisfied that you’ll meet our needs, Jim,” Ms. Lanning went on. “All you need to do is read and sign a few papers, here,"—she pushed a thin sheaf of forms across the desk—“and run through our standard medical exam, and we can get started.”

Jim picked up the documents and scanned them, vaguely aware that Ms. Lanning had begun idly twirling the brooch fastened around her neck. Its gem caught the light, sending little flashes his way. They seemed very relaxing, somehow. No need to look too closely at the paperwork, he told himself. He wasn’t selling his soul, after all.

He signed the papers. But wasn’t there something . . .

“Wait a minute,” he said, confused. “What medical exam?”

“Now, Jim,” Ms. Lanning soothed him, “it’s nothing special. Just a routine precaution, to make sure you don’t have any hidden medical conditions which might put you in danger during filming, or cause problems later. Just a routine procedure.” She kept on fiddling with her brooch, waiting for his answer.

“Just a routine procedure,” he agreed. Of course. What was he worrying about?

A few minutes later, he found himself in the examination room. The doctor was a woman, too, who might have been anywhere from her late thirties to her early fifties. She went about her job competently, though some of her tests were puzzling: she took a sperm sample, for one thing, and she spent a lot of time flashing various lights into his eyes and making note of the results. Several times he’d felt he ought to ask questions about what she was doing, but somehow, he never quite did.

Finally, it was over. After making a few last-minute notes—Jim craned over to try reading them, but they seemed to be written in some sort of shorthand he didn’t recognize—she addressed him.

“You’ll do,” she said brusquely. “Report to quarters and wait for meal call. You can ask for directions; someone will be able to show you where to go.” She waved him off, and he left, feeling vaguely as if he’d just joined the army.

Over the next few days, he settled in. More cast members arrived. Curiously, they all seemed to be male, and all said they’d been contacted over the Web. The female cast all seemed to have come in earlier, under some other arrangement. When Jim tried to find out more about that, though, he got nowhere. All he learned was that the whole cast seemed to be non-actors. In the lower reaches of B-moviedom, Jim knew, it could be argued that this was typical—but this picture’s cast seemed to be made up entirely of absolute newcomers to show business.

The same might have been true of the scriptwriters. Once copies of the script were passed out, it quickly became apparent that no great effort had been lavished on it. The premise was ridiculous: bikini-clad alien women come to Earth to seize men as mates. Incredibly, that wasn’t a first. The dialogue was stilted. There were great holes in the plot—for instance, the alien women were supposed to get control of their prey through hypnosis, but the script also had them using pleasure-inducing “sex ray” guns to subdue the men. Why both were required was never explained—unless it was in the same hidden place where it was explained what had happened to the aliens’ men. The beach volleyball and party scenes might have been lifted right out of any of hundreds of forgettable flicks.

The props and special effects were just as cheesy. The usual sci-fi movie cliché of having a spaceship humming and roaring in the vacuum of space was just the start. The spacecraft itself looked as if it might have come out of “The Day The Earth Stood Still.” The “sex ray” guns were basically flashlight wands with little electronic noisemakers; the hypnosis scenes used every induction device ever seen in the movies, everything from swinging pendants to a whirling spiral disk.

But the actors, of both sexes, were uniformly good-looking. Jim Andrews thought of himself as a pretty handsome guy, and despite his psychology major, he’d worked hard to keep in shape. Next to some of the others, though, he felt distinctly inadequate; several were real Muscle Beach types. It was the same with the women, who ranged from very attractive to mind-blowingly gorgeous. Housing was gender-segregated, with male and female quarters on opposite sides of the production site, a strangely puritanical move, and, at least at first, the men and women didn’t seem to talk to each other much.

Oddly, everyone actually in charge of anything seemed to be female. It was very feminist, except that this wasn’t the sort of movie one would usually expect feminists to make. Bikini babes from space? They’d be more likely to picket than participate.

The barriers which had originally seemed to divide the sexes came down once filming started. Everyone mingled at the nightly viewings of the day’s footage, and those viewings quickly took on a somewhat festive air. Booze had a way of appearing then, although drugs were absolutely forbidden. “The last thing we need is to bring the Earth authorities down on our necks,” was how Ms. Lanning had put it, provoking a round of wild laughter.

At his first viewing session, Jim initially had a problem: the picture seemed to keep shimmering at the edges, which he found very distracting. Just when he was about to say something, though, the short girl with the rich red-brown hair he’d met on the day of his interview came over. Her name, he knew now, was April something-or-other, though in the movie she played the alien woman Asalla.

“Is something wrong?” April asked.

Jim explained, and April nodded. “I noticed the same thing, but I found a trick.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Go on,” Jim prompted.

“Well,” April continued, “just relax, and keep watching the film. Let the flickering fade into the background, and keep watching the film, and relax. Focus on the center of the screen, and watch, and relax, and focus, and relax. Put yourself into the action, and focus, and relax.” She sat down next to Jim, who said dreamily, “I think I see what you mean.”

“Yes,” she encouraged him. “Relax, and keep watching the film. Let the flickering fade, until you’re aware of it only in the back of your mind, as you watch the film, and focus, and forget about the flickering. Let my voice help you concentrate only on the film, and on my voice, and relax, and my voice, keep watching the film, yes . . .” She went on, her voice seeming to blur into the background after a bit as Jim kept watching the film, and relaxed, and listened.

Jim felt his eyes droop shut, and his head dropped gently onto April’s chest. He sighed. From somewhere very far away, someone he trusted completely was telling him things, important things.

“Hunh?” He jerked awake, head snapping up. “Christ, I’m sorry, April.”

She smiled fondly at him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a dark room, it’s been a long day . . . it’s natural. But how’s the flicker?”

Reminded, he looked back at the screen.

“It’s gone!” He looked at the girl admiringly. “That’s some trick!”

That night, he and April found a private spot. They talked for a while about the movie, and then, under April’s coaching, Jim found himself talking a lot about himself. He had an odd feeling he was saying more than he normally would to a woman on a first date, but it didn’t seem to matter. Finally, though, he decided to turn the conversation to her. He opened with a simple gambit: “Where are you from, April? I don’t think you’ve said.”

“It’s complicated,” she replied. She looked at him closely. “Remember when we were in the theater? Remember the flickering you saw?”

“Ye-es,” Jim said cautiously. “But what’s that got to do with—!” She shushed him.

“Remember how I showed you to make it go away? My voice, and relax, and watch the film, and relax, and my voice, and . . .” She continued, watching Jim carefully.

After a bit, she decided he was ready. His eyes were open, but unfocused, and his breathing had shifted to match the rhythm of her words; he sat silent, waiting.

“Jim,” she said.

“Mmm,” he responded. Words were too hard. Just listen to April. Yes.

“When we were talking earlier, you described your ideal sex-goddess fantasy woman to me. The woman who could make you do anything, the woman you just couldn’t resist, no matter what, if you ever met her in real life. Do you remember?”

“Mmm. Yes. I remember.”

“Jim, close your eyes.” He did. “I want you to picture that woman in your mind. I want you to see her, solid, three-dimensional, real. Imagine her voice, her scent, the feel of her skin and hair.”

Jim gasped. His mind was filled with a glorious vision, and his body responded with a raging erection, draining blood from his brain.

“Now, Jim,” April went on, “when I count to three, I want you to open your eyes, and when you see me, I will be that woman. I will be that woman until the next time you go to sleep, Jim. After that, you will see me as you saw me before. Do you understand me, Jim? Repeat my instructions if you understand.”

Jim returned her words in a robot voice.

“But Jim,” April added, “if I ever say the words ‘dream girl’ to you, you will again see me, perceive me in every way, as that perfect woman whom you can’t resist in any way. You will continue to do so until you sleep and wake up again, and after that you will again see me as I am. Do you understand, Jim?”

“Yes, April,” Jim responded, then repeated her orders as before.

“Wonderful, Jim!” April smiled brilliantly. “One, two, three.”

Jim’s eyes opened. He moaned; in front of him was April, and she was the most beautiful woman he could have dreamed about. He forgot what he’d been trying to ask her; there was nothing in his mind now but raw, primal need. He grasped his dream girl in his arms, and she came to him eagerly. The night dissolved in fireworks.

When he woke up, April was lying beside him, naked, smiling in her sleep. He had a foggy memory that somehow he’d fantasized about some gorgeous goddess while they’d been making love—but after a moment, the memory dissolved. All he recalled was April, and pleasure.

After that night, he had no more trouble with flicker in the video. He had a vague sense that the flicker was still there, but he didn’t really notice it, even if he consciously tried to see it.

He continued to see April after the nightly footage showings. She was a pretty girl, and very attentive when he talked to her. The other guys in the cast seemed to have found girlfriends as well; the shooting of “Bikini Hypnotists From Beyond the Heavens” seemed to be a very affectionate business. Jim felt guilty, though, that he kept on fantasizing about this incredible tit-mag model when he was having sex with her. The fantasies were getting stronger, too; he’d even named the girl. He called her Asalla.

For her part, April was very pleased. She liked Jim a lot. She had ever since that first day, when he’d come in for his interview. And the director approved, and so did the doctor; they’d encouraged him to use all the means at her disposal to win him. Time was short, after all.

He’d been very receptive. Some of the other girls had had to work a lot harder to get the men they’d chosen into the proper frame of mind. Jim, however, had been easy to guide into the relaxed state she wanted. The doctor had told her he would be, but she’d been delighted to find out for herself that it was true.

Soon, she wouldn’t even need his fantasy woman. He was genuinely attracted to her. She hadn’t been sure he would be, with all the other sexy females around, many of them more beautiful than she was. She’d been lucky to be picked for the cast at all, out of so many candidates. But she had been, and now she had Jim.

Near the close of filming, Jim had an odd experience. He’d been walking along the cliffs, reading his part for the day’s shooting, when he’d passed two of the female cast members talking together. Without quite intending to, he overheard them.

Whatever they were speaking, it wasn’t English. Not Spanish, either—you couldn’t live in Los Angeles for any length of time without at least learning to recognize the language of the conquistadors, even if you didn’t learn to speak it. When they noticed him, they fell silent and moved away, glancing back toward him.

What, he thought, were they talking about me?

He’d mentioned it to April that evening. She’d frowned.

“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” she’d said. “Ms. Lanning only hired English-speakers for the movie. That’s the primary market the video will be aimed at, after all.”

He protested feebly, but she insisted. “Shh. It must have been a mistake.” She smiled up at him impishly and said, “Why do you care about a couple of other women, anyway? I’m your dream girl, aren’t I?”

That was that. Jim forgot his questions as his irresistible temptress peeled off her clothes and playfully helped him out of his. His last memory of the evening was of her atop him, bringing her massive mammaries down to cover his face and massage it as he spurted volcanically into her. Then he spun down into the wonderful darkness.

When he woke up, a nude April was curled around him possessively, arms around his neck, one leg thrown over him, dark head on his shoulder. When he moved, she stretched and smiled, still asleep. He stroked her hair gently, inhaling its fragrance. He never thought about the incident on the cliffs again.

The day of the wrap party, April came to Jim and offered him a small gift-wrapped box.

“What’s this?” he said, surprised.

“Open it and see,” she answered.

He did. Inside the box was an elaborate leather wristband studded with what looked like small gems—emeralds, diamonds, rubies, one or two kinds he wasn’t sure of. “My God,” he exclaimed. “It’s beautiful!”

“It’s for you,” she said. She held up her right arm; she had on another, apparently identical wristband. “I had both made, as a set.”

“I—are you sure, April? They must have cost a fortune!”

“I’m sure, Jim.” She smiled dazzlingly at him. “Put it on. I want to see how it looks on you.”

The wristband slipped on easily over his hand. Once on his wrist, it seemed to tighten, just enough to firmly attach itself.

“Hey,” Jim protested after a moment, tugging at it, “I can’t get it back off! What if I need to take a shower or something?”

April giggled. Holding up her own wrist, she pressed a spot on the underside of the band she was wearing, then slipped it off. She put it back on immediately. Jim followed suit; when he found the right spot, he could feel the band loosen. As April had done, he took it off, then put it back on again.

“Neat trick,” he said, then dismissed it. He reached for April, and she came into his arms; their kiss was a warm haven.

That evening, with the party in full swing, Ms. Lanning called for everyone’s attention. The microphone in her hand made her voice sound faintly eerie.

“We’ve done it, people!” she boomed. “The film’s done, and I’ve already spoken to our distributors. As soon as our production people put the finishing touches on the master print and crank up the copying gear, we’ll be ready to ship!”

Cheers rang out. Everyone understood what that meant. Part of the package for the cast, as well as production staff, was a cut of profits from the film’s distribution. Nobody would be getting rich off a made-for-video B movie like “Bikini Hypnotists,” but everyone stood to make a nice chunk of change for a few weeks’ work.

Ms. Lanning spoke again. “Everyone down on the beach! We’ve got a special surprise for you all!”

Those still on the cliffs hurried down. The couples who had wandered off in search of privacy were rounded up and brought along. Almost everyone assembled in the male-female pairs which had sorted themselves out during the past weeks. The few exceptions all seemed to be senior staff, including Ms. Lanning and the doctor. April put her hand on Jim’s arm and urged him down toward the sand.

When everyone was together, Ms. Lanning looked them over, smiling. From somewhere, a humming noise began, rising steadily in volume. Ms. Lanning nodded.

Suddenly, April pulled out one of the prop “sex ray” gizmos from somewhere and pointed it at Jim. He laughed. “What’s this, April? Isn’t it a little late to be getting back into the role?” From the corners of his eyes, he saw that other women had pulled out “sex rays” of their own.

She flipped the switch. There was a buzzing noise, and the little bulb on the wand’s business end lit up.

So did Jim. He stopped laughing. His body froze, as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure crashed over him. He was instantly, fiercely erect, on the verge of orgasm, but unable to complete it. Speech was impossible, thought was impossible. Only pleasure was possible.

“It worked!” April said. “Look at them!”

“Of course it worked,” came from the doctor. “Their conditioning was very powerful. The subliminal programming planted on the film footage made sure that when the director spoke her trigger phrase just now, they’d be primed to respond to these—toys,” she pointed scornfully to the wand still clasped in April’s hand, “as if they were genuine stimulator wands. It also heightened general suggestibility, allowing you and the others to add your own personal instructions for the men you each selected.”

The older woman regarded the younger. “It took years to set this up, always moving so as not to attract the wrong sort of attention. Years to fine-tune the conditioning technology, for one thing, so that it worked just as we wished on these people; years to prepare for the movie shoot, make the right commercial and political contacts and select an initial pool of candidate males. And then, of course, I screened our ‘actors’ carefully, not only for any undesirable medical conditions but for susceptibility to the programming. I was beginning to fear I wouldn’t find enough suitable men before our deadline. But we did it!”

She smirked. “And the best part is, we did it right out in the open. We actually announced ourselves—but because of the way we did it, no one suspected a thing.” The smirk exploded into outright laughter, which was echoed from all over the beach.

Jim, still flying through a warp space of pleasure, heard the words, but didn’t care what they meant.

April took his arm again, and began urging him forward. He could move now, but offered no resistance. He simply walked forward with the others, smiling, his mind drifting among pretty lights, as the saucer ship landed and opened its door.