The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Brandie arrived at the set for her fourth, and final, day of filming. Just two more rounds and she’d go home with the million.

The host made the standard introductory spiel. Brandie let most of it go in one ear and out the other, focusing on putting on a big confident smile for the audience. Finally, she noticed the lead up to the question of whether she wanted to keep the two hundred thousand she’d already won, or play another round for the chance to turn it into five hundred thousand.

It wasn’t really a question for her. She intended to play this out. But projecting a certain degree of tension and indecision was part of the show, so she waited a few seconds and bit her lip a bit before declaring that she was continuing.

In response, the host flashed a well-practiced grin and said, “Very good. If you’ll accompany Selena to the dressing room, we’ll set up the next game. We’ll continue with Million Dollar Cherry in just a few moments....”

Selena escorted her to the dressing room, though by this time she was perfectly capable of finding it on her own. Waiting for her was a white bikini, bearing the show’s emblem on each breast, each buttock, and the groin. Marketing strikes again, she thought. The fabric felt a bit unusual, more like cotton than the usual spandex, and yet was oddly stiff.

She shrugged. The whole ritual of beginning the show in ordinary just-slightly-daring street clothes and then changing into a swimsuit or lingerie for the games contributed to the spectacle. If it made for a better performance, it was worth a bit of extra time and effort.

As she returned to the stage, the host briefly re-introduced her, and then waved toward Stage One. The curtains opened to show an arrangement of transparent partitions, dividing the floor into a maze of broad corridors. At each corner of the maze was a flag, about three-quarters of the way up its staff. As Brandie and the host approached the entrance to the complex, she noticed a scattering of small boxes placed at various corners and dead ends.

“This round, Brandie is going to run our ‘Sweet Treat’ obstacle course. The object of the game is to raise all four flags within six point nine minutes.”

Lucia walked up to them, carrying another flag. The host indicated two buttons, one on top of the pole and another at the flag’s current position. “Hold both of these switches down...” The flag began to rise. “...like this.” The flag reached the top of the staff. The little finial ball lit up, and a triumphant music sting played.

The host waved toward the course. “That part is easy. You could finish it in less than half the time we’re giving you... except for one small complication. You must complete the course with at least part of your swimsuit intact.”

A wave called attention to the curtains of Stage Two. It opened, and Clarisse stepped into view. She was also wearing a bikini festooned with Million Dollar Cherry logos, but with a khaki-camo background. Brandie wondered whether somebody on the staff was profoundly color-blind, or just no esthetic sense whatsoever.

“Welcome back, Clarisse. This makes the fourth time you’ve shared the stage with Brandie. I think it would have been seven, but our management insisted that someone else had to have a turn.” Scattered chuckles came from the audience.

“If there’s one thing we can be sure of, it’s that Clarisse will be trying to get Brandie naked.” The audience let loose with cheers and wolf whistles. “Not the obvious way, mind you; this game is strictly hands-off.” Clarisse snapped her fingers and mugged an exaggerated expression of disappointment. “No physical contact or physical obstruction of passageways allowed.”

“However...” Lucia had walked away unnoticed, and now returned, wheeling a mannequin dressed in a swimsuit just like Brandie’s. “...these suits are made of a sort of specially formulated cotton-candy material. When exposed to water with a bit of alcohol—they tell me it’s about forty proof—it dissolves.”

Lucia handed the host a little water pistol. “The logos are encapsulated with the solvent, so even a grazing hit on them...” A squirt from the pistol struck the “Million Dollar Cherry” label arched above the cherry graphic on the dummy’s left breast. “...releases enough to remove a whole panel of fabric.” A moment later, only a couple of support threads and a clear shiny coating remained of the left cup of the bikini top.

The host waved toward the entrance to the labyrinth. “In a moment, Brandie will start running the race. To make it sporting, we’ll give her a free shot at the first flag. As soon as she raises it, we’ll send Clarisse in and unlock the boxes. About half of them contain one of these squirtguns; the rest are empty. Each squirtgun has a single shot, so each of them gives Clarisse one chance to convert a portion of Brandie’s swimsuit into a delicious sugary glaze.”

The audience murmurred, and a few particularly enthusiastic spectators made loud and rather rude-sounding slurping noises.

“If Brandie raises all the flags and gets out of the maze with any portion of her swimsuit intact, she wins. If not... well, maybe Clarisse will get enough aerobic exercise backstage to offset the empty calories.”

As the snickering died away, Brandie got the host’s attention. “Am I allowed to use the water pistols?”

“Yes. There are at least a dozen of them in there, so I wouldn’t recommend trying to find them before Clarisse does. I doubt you could do that and run the course in time. Remember, the boxes will be locked down until you raise the first flag and Clarisse comes in after you.”

The host grinned and continued. “You may shoot at Clarisse, if you wish. Her swimsuit is soluble, just like yours. It wouldn’t get you any game benefits... but it might distract her, and I’m sure it would earn the gratitude of our viewers.”

Loud hoots and shouts of “Do it!” rose from the crowd.

“Now, then, Brandie, are you ready?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

A large clock display set to six minutes and fifty-four seconds. “Go!”

Brandie began to sprint toward the nearest flag, and then slowed down a bit. Best to save her stamina for evading pursuit rather than waste it now. She also decided to use her one free pass to reach one of the flags at the back end of the stage, and changed course. Scattered cheers went up as the savvier members of the audience showed their appreciation for this strategy.

After some initial false turns navigating the maze, she stepped into the clear area around the pole and pressed the two buttons. A few seconds later, the flag rose into position, and the light and sound activated. She glanced at the entrance to the stage, and saw Clarisse run through the entryway and head for a side passage containing two of the boxes.

She started toward the other rear corner of the stage, glancing over her shoulder to keep tabs on her pursuer. Clarisse had found one of the squirtguns, and was coming her way.

This was going to be trickier than she’d realized. The flags took about three seconds to raise, and she was stuck in place for that time. If she approached a flag while being too closely pursued, she’d be a sitting duck.

Five minutes left. She lunged toward the flag, figuring that she had just enough time to raise it and run for cover before Clarisse arrived.

With agonizing slowness, the flag rose on its staff. Clarisse headed around a U-turn, putting her only a few steps away from having a clear shot.

At the same moment she saw the light and heard the fanfare, Brandie felt something wet touch her right breast. She looked down, and saw the show logo patch dissolving, in an accelerating chain reaction that spread to the surrounding fabric.

A flicker of motion in front of her caught her attention and made her look up again. Clarisse was raising another water pistol. Before Brandie could react, the left side of her top was also melting away.

She jumped and sprinted down a passageway, cursing herself for not watching more carefully. She hadn’t known that her hunter had picked up a second squirtgun, and now she’d taken two of her five hits.

Veering off to the left, and then to the right, she tried to think it through. Maybe the situation wasn’t that bad. Two out of five hits was less than half, but two out of four flags was half. On the other hand, the last flag would be the hardest; Clarisse would know exactly where she was headed.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that she was in the clear for the moment. Clarisse was in a dead end corridor, bending over to pick up a fresh weapon. Brandie veered off course and took a few detours, trying to make at least some progress toward the next flag while putting as many twists and turns as possible between hunter and quarry.

She realized that Clarisse had a fairly direct path toward the flag she was heading toward, even though she was a bit further away in linear distance. Ducking into a side passage, Brandie spent precious time on random fakeout maneuvers, while watching Clarisse close in on the flag. She then changed course for the other remaining flag.

Four minutes left. Her pursuer figured out what she was up to, and ran toward a four-way intersection that would enable her to cut off the best approach to Brandie’s new goal. In response, she doubled back to take a longer but less vulnerable alternate route. The cat and mouse maneuverings continued as the clock inexorably counted down.

Three minutes left. There was a straightaway ahead, and then a left turn would get her to the flag. As she ran, she touched the sticky stuff on her breast with a fingertip and raised it to her lips. It tasted like honey, with a hint of one of those silly umbrella drinks she sometimes accepted to humor a guy at a bar. It was thick enough that it would hold the umbrella upright, just like the flagpole ahead of her.

As she made the turn, she felt sticky wetness on the left side of her butt. She kept her focus on the goal until she had hold of both buttons, then looked back. Clarisse was in a nearby alcove, reaching for another one of the boxes. Brandie hoped it was a decoy.

No such luck. Just as the flag signals finally triggered, she emerged from the passageway with a fresh squirtgun. Brandie retreated, and skidded around a U-turn. Just as she thought she’d gotten clear, she felt the other side of her swimsuit seat melting away.

She was down to her last bit of bikini. She had to make it to the last flag and raise it before Clarisse found another squirtgun and cut her off.

The passageway ahead of her turned right, and right again, forcing her to backtrack. She finally found the next fork in the path, and frantically tried to figure out which alternative would get her there faster.

Two minutes left. Clarisse turned aside to investigate one of the boxes, and continued empty-handed. The same thing happened again. Maybe, just maybe, she’d make it.

Finally, Brandie reached a point where she had a straight sprint to the last flag. But Clarisse was closer. And she was armed with a fresh squirtgun.

She could try to run backwards, or skedaddle sideways keeping her crotch against the wall. But that wouldn’t work when she actually got to the flag. She’d have to stand there, in the open, both hands occupied, for three whole seconds... an easy target.

There had to be some way around this. She couldn’t think of any.

One minute left.

She got an idea. She ducked into another corridor.

Clarisse stood near the flag, well positioned to cover every possible approach. She waved beckoningly with her free hand. “You might as well just get it over with and come out for me, sweetie.”

She made a great show of slowly licking her lips. The crowd yelled “Yeah!” and “Lick her clean!” and made more rude slurping noises.

Thirty seconds left.

The first box Brandie found was empty. The next one had a fresh squirtgun. She grabbed it and made her way to a corridor just around the corner from the flag.

Fifteen seconds left.

She yelled and darted around the corner, raising the squirtgun. She let off a squirt, hitting Clarisse’s face dead center.

Clarisse closed her eyes and yelled. She fired off her own shot, which splattered against Brandie’s thigh. Brandie grabbed the flagpole and pressed the buttons.

Clarisse’s hands reached out. “Bitch! Where’d you go?”

“Ah, ah... this is a hands-off game!” she chided.

The flag rose to the top of the staff. The light at the top flashed. The sound of the triumphant chord was drowned out by a mix of cheers and catcalls from the crowd as Brandie sprinted to the exit. She made it with two seconds on the clock.

The host waved for attention. “The ruling is that we’re going to allow that. I did specifically say that it was legal for Brandie to shoot at Clarisse.”

There were a few scattered jeers, but the audience generally shut up and accepted the verdict.

The two women stood on the stage. Clarisse alternated between shooting furious glares at Brandie and attempting to wipe and blink the remaining alcohol out of her eyes.

“We might have to issue goggles for this game in the future,” the host commented. “But be that as it may, Brandie has now won our penultimate round, and a prize of...” An echo effect was added to the host’s microphone feed. “...five hundred thousand dollars, putting her just one round away from the Million Dollar Cherry grand prize!”

Smiling, the host concluded, “So, while you take a shower and clean up, think about whether or not you want to play one final round and really clean up....”