The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Simon said he would get this posted as quick as he could, but even re-reading it there are already gaps, problems, area’s of the text that aren’t transmitting/ downloading correctly, completely. Someone has breached the ISP, I hope your copy is complete, complete enough for you to see and know, save yourself....

We are the sum total of our genes(G not J. Despite what the greedy TV advertiser brainwashing vampires would like you to believe). And it is to this end I am telling this story. It is the deeper conspiracy beneath the obvious and laughable one perpetrated upon us to which I refer. We all know what the advertisers and salespeople are trying through various psychological techniques, uses of color, presentation, use of beautiful people, carefully chosen phrases and keywords are trying to do. But this is not what I am referring to...hardly. It is the unseen and more insidious reality beneath this obviously thinly veiled manipulation. We are meant to see this in all it’s obviousness and when we are happy to believe we know what they are up to and therefore are not going to be fooled, or at least only slightly so that we stop looking for anything deeper and more insidious. Do I sound a bit paranoid to you? They want me to sound that way. They have mislead you into believing that anyone who see’s conspiracy’s is in fact a pathetic paranoid to be ignored or pitied or shunned because they are nuts. But don’t believe it! That is the key to the whole plan, their plan! They have to suppress people like me, people who know. People who have seen and to my shame were once part of their master plan. People who can expose them.

I have written it all down. So that when they do find me the truth will outlive me. I don’t know how long masking this story as a harmless work of fiction will keep it safe from their censorship and scrutiny, but for now there will at least be the copies you have downloaded. Through the internet the truth will survive. To usurp and destroy it they will have to find each and every one of you, those who also know, those who have downloaded the truth. This EMCSA archive is the safest place I could think of to set out the truth. Where MC is an accepted premise, where the idea’s and truths I am about to impart are not a great stretch of the imagination. Where it had a chance to be measured for its truth, by open willing minds that might just might be able to see it for what it is... really is. Keep an open mind and a wary eye. A wary mascara-less eye. But I am getting so far ahead of myself you can’t possibly be following...

The beginning, the beginning, I should start at the beginning. When was the beginning? Oh yes.

My name is Arthur Semidorian....

MakeUp file # 2

My name is Arthur as I have already said. I work, or actually worked for the ______________ cosmetic company. (Why wouldn’t the name print out?) I worked in research and development in a very minor capacity as a lab assistant. Basically I tested, weighed, did chemical analysis, of whatever the actual researchers brought to me. I was a flunky second class, the lab equivalent of the guy who sits in a photo booth but doesn’t actually do any real photo developing. But I saw things, heard bits of things, accidentally went into a room I shouldn’t have been in when it was left unlocked. They threatened me after that. Demoted me (to fetcher of the things to be tested, weighed, analysed) and threatened all sorts of legal action if I revealed what they refered to as “trade” secrets. Worse, they made it clear how big they were, and how small I was, and how nobody would miss a minor flunky like me if I disappeared or had... an accident. The message was easy enough to understand. Even I got it first time.

But I have no choice now. They think I leaked it. Their secret. I didn’t. But now they think I did it doesn’t matter. If I’m going to, as they put it: “Become a minor statistic”, then I might as well do the thing I was accused of anyway. No reason not to now. I am going to tell, you, and anyone else that will listen. So listen carefully...

It was a Tuesday about three weeks ago. Three weeks? Yah, probably. I have since lost proper track. Three weeks is close enough. I have spent the last (two?) weeks in a musty basement hiding out. They sent the police for me. Some sort of trumped up stealing charges. I got away, obviously. All my friends and families houses are under surveillance, so I couldn’t risk going to them, or worse involving them. This way they cannot use my loved ones against me, to flush me out of hiding. I may have been a flunky but it’s a mistake for them to think I am stupid or crazy. That’s why they have gotten close but not quite close enough to catch me, they underestimate me, and the edge a little paranoia and a lot of adrenaline can give a guy is really amazing.

I hope this laptop computer and my phone splice for the modem holds up. I am working by candle and computer screen light only. I can’t take the chance turning the lights on would represent. The windows are stuffed with rags to darken them, but still. They are clever and resourceful. I just hope my computer battery doesn’t run out of juice or fry in this wet environment. Have to chance it. Hope I can finish, and get it transmitted. The risk of going out or upstairs where the plugs are is just too great. _________________ 7&#$%huiyg%^(Aa&*hju _____________________________________________________________ *%0_7453#@& ______________________________ Was that a power glitch? Oh damn. Maybe they’ve tapped in. Gotta chance it and keep going. Simon says he’ll list this story as innocent fiction so it will draw less attention. I tried to explain the dangers, but he said don’t worry. I do worry. There is danger, great danger. He can’t know.

Arthur, worked for, demoted, fired, threatened, have to get the word out, on the run, three weeks ago, ok. Through a set of accidental circumstances, I found myself in a high security lab where they were testing new cosmetic products on... for lack of a better word... “volunteers”. I wouldn’t call them that, but originally they probably had been, and so I’ll refer to them inaccurately as such. I was at once horrified and fascinated.

Rows of makeup tables and their cheery technicians. Happy test subjects getting to try out the latest face and body products. Common faces being made beautiful. Oh the horror!

But I was not mislead by this false veil of camaraderie and goodwill. The scene was a facade, a trick, a carefully made up deception. Like the beauty created it was false, artificial, not what it seemed when the cleansing cold cream of reality is applied to it’s greasepaint and powdered face. Something was subtly wrong with the scene, a detail that somehow refused to blend in an even tone, an inconsistency, a blemish in their perfect expressions. All of them. Something not quite humanly animated. Like they were characters, dolls, with their personalities “painted on”. like the makeup was somehow effecting their behavior, changing average persons into someone else they would not have been. It was little mannerisms, expressions, subtitles of carriage. An over willingness to be “transformed”.

Oh at first I saw nothing so out of the ordinary that it set me to wonder or worry. All seemed as they wished it to appear, and at first I was taken in as they had intended, as the world was meant to see it. A beautiful pink chiffoned, pants suited, pill box hatted technician (like something out of 50’s television) with an unmoving, ever smiling, disconcertingly artificial face met me before I could wander deeply into the research area.

“May I help you?” There was something unnatural, practiced, maybe even artificial , like the smile, like the makeup, like her manner, like her high heeled mechanical walk, like....everything and everyone in this room, about her, something disconcerting.

“ I must have taken a wrong turn”, I managed. She stared at me blankly for a moment, as if... processing what I had said. Why I got this impression, I couldn’t say.

Over several weeks I watched women come and go. The ones who left were somehow changed. More than what a mere facial or new look or hairdo could explain. My growing sense of horror and realization was becoming a tangible thing. I even dared to make conscious efforts to inconspicuously strike up casual conversations with the “volunteers”, and there were measurable differences with the “before’s and the “afters”. After “treatment”, beautification, I couldn’t recognize some of them. Their looks, or their personalities. Some might say they were more aloof, sophisticated, confident, but I could see the truth; they were cold, impersonal, stiff, china doll-like. I was beginning to suspect something sinister, something I still couldn’t put my finger on at the time.

The girls who came back the most frequently, for repeated treatments, showed the greatest and most shocking changes, the most dehumanization, the most disinterest in anything but maintaining their appearance, coming back for another “treatment”.

It was then THEY first took me aside for a talking to, they told me that ______ _________________________________________________$&(*&#yT%78$%___________________________oixhGF_&#$^CSetgh9ubhj7fU69___HJU2oin%^&*34 ____________ ___d3W%%*EOPK_______________________________________________56tUIyt%#$%_______________________________________ it was hardly a surprise, but it did raise my suspicions of what the big deal really was. Why did____________ want me to stay away from these test subjects so badly? My interest was peaked. I obviously agreed with everything I had been told, but resolved to renew my efforts to find out what was really going on. I would simply have to be more careful, clever.

It was about this time that “things” I had worked on, done, data I had entered, began to occur to me as being strange for cosmetic research. An overheard fragment of a conversation between two researchers made everything begin to gel. Something about “genetic makeup” and adaptive facial technology. products that worked with and changed based on facial chemistry and genetics, feeling different, being a totally new_______________ girl. _________________________________&^ggf&*___

Did the power just glitch again?

Too coincidental. Checking plug, wiping moisture from keyboard. Old house, very old rat chewed wiring, no serge protection, raw irregular voltage, not good, not good at all. Maybe__________________________________gJGYLjygf&^&OUY#@23_____________________________________________()&*GYbvhuaP908BDF’0OP^7*__________________________________________________ and that is why I really began to suspect the truth, the awful, terrible, mind numbing truth. Innocent girls, young women, turned into cosmetic beauty zombies. Unable to disobey their (face) masters. How many millions more using these products are being programmed, made into fashion slaves, face slaves, body slaves, will-less slaves of these products and their unseen masters, whoever they may be? Forever changed, forever in need, forever waiting for some hidden trigger command?. To what insidious end? What is the true level of the alteration, the mind twist, the control over how they think, what they think? I don’t know...

Will they one day take total control of this beautiful mindless, sexy, soul-less, shallow army? See? See, how bad this might be? Do you, can you, begin to see the danger? The reason they cannot let me tell you_____@#$kwaP$%__________ Oh my god! Ok, the keyboard is working again. Too close. I have to tell you I overheard of a plan for something they call: Perma-face. One application will last for weeks once the “setter” is applied. Like coats of paint on a car, or a chair. Apparently each successive coat will last longer than the last.

Why would a company trying to sell a billion dollars worth of product a year want to design such a product? It doesn’t make sense, you say? It would cost them millions upon millions at the very least? The only way it makes sense is if there is a reason, a dark reason they would want you to wear one of their artificial faces for an extended period, like the ones I have proposed, exposed, revealed and am in danger for revealing. I am repeating myself. I am sorry. I am just so desperate to get the truth out, about the conspiracy to control your bodies and minds. I have a report with me that I stole the day I was fired. It’s all there. They couldn’t prove I had it or make me reveal it’s whereabouts no matter what they threatened. I tried to transmit it but something happened at the ISP. if there is time I will try again. Simon says it’s just the bandwidth during peak hours. I’m not so sure.

He’s too trusting, I hope he has taken measures to make his IP adress safe. I can’t begin_____________—^%*()OAUTiA4$%^9as_________________________________________ ______________________#$%^&OUyu43dR#$%^____________ as you can see. No personalities, glassy mascara’d stares, frightening irrational obsession. _________________ Unable to stop, or realize they have no will to resist the irreversible takeover.

I never did manage to get into room 23, the very top secret testing area. Security around it was like that at a military base. Strange don’t you think, cold cream and face powder with shoot to kill security? Ahhh... you begin to see, to believe. I knew you would. They said it was to prevent industrial espionage, a charge they trumped up with the others to dismiss me and ruin my chances to ever work in my field again. The bastards! They may have destroyed me, but they will pay. When the world knows, when it rises up in arms and in outrage; when they are stopped.

But where was I? Ah, yes. Area 23, uh... room 23. Yes. That is something you should know all about, so you can know, know what you need to know, to protect yourselves. like I said I never actually got inside but I did observe many strange comings and goings. I will document these. The girls transformed into what I began calling “beauty bots”. The beauty technicians all so alike, identical except for small cosmetic differences of build, or hair length, or color. But with time and silicone or perhaps padding or some other modifications beyond that door, in that room , that I could not see... even these became less with time, increasingly intangible. With the volunteers it was even worse. And I had never noticed the messages playing endlessly over the PA system: “Be the ideal”, “Beauty can be yours”, “Look good and feel good”, __________________ is in your mind”, ________________________________ today you are________ a slave tothe...old_______________#%^7—#$%di*_________________________________you”.____________________________________________________T54SIOt#$^u______________ I think you will begin to understand and fear. See the silent death of free will. An industry controlling all thought. Sending a message through subliminal genetic messages. Taken in through the skin, the eyes, the lips, oh god. The luscious lustrous poisoned tainted lips. Can it be transferred with a kiss? in subtle amounts, over many embraces, is this how they plan to get men? One kiss at a time? Through passion? Chemically, physically altering the masses. The beautiful, beautified, sweet smelling, dehumanized masses. Yes, I forgot that. They are testing deodorant delivery systems too, and through “other” products.

“Don’t be a social outcast... be one of us... smell like one of us... know those who haven’t been converted by their natural human scent.” They will never get the french, not that way! They are immune to this phase of the plan, it’s a cultural thing. I will post on a system there too so ___________________________________________________ ___________________________________ (*&^$dcfvLIK*& ______________________________________________________________________________________ $hGJtg%O)knsldck%%%55KJG83486glkwKHjulflza/m ________________________________________________________________________________________ s*(&%e#w$eJ# _____________________ Data corrupted? Oh God, not now. Transmitting—Resend block Come on damn it!

They will either convert or kill me now. I have gotten enough out to be a real threat. Now all I need to do is to send a list of the mind altering, enslaving products, and I will have done all I can do. That and to send the report. Resend the report. I will attach that to an e-mail and send it later, at off-peak. The following is a list of ___________________________________ $%^78Ghj#$ ________________________________________ $%^*(JGau*($#@!ab __________________________________________________________ +_)(*!@#$tfd$rr$%+rrr ________________________________________________________________________________ KUG%^%#597h6874HGf87illkHGFd—

Notes from the system administrator: Hi, this is Simon. I waited several days before posting this story. Apparently the additional file/ report never got transmitted. So due to time constraints _________________ of the story was included since it is a complete text by and of itself. Enjoy. The only other comment I might make 6erd+_{P)O(I*UYTrUtgjgf [pioiuytKUGg(*66$%tgl*754rihj—*Download Aborted* bad sector file