The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next day was the picnic. It was probably a good thing, since it kept me too busy to think too much about what had happened the night before. We picked up Marlene at her place and arrived at the picnic ground just as things were starting to get interesting. I did my shift on the grill while Linda and Marlene wandered off by themselves. At two o’clock I handed my apron over to my relief and headed for the Simon Sez area.

Marlene and Linda were already waiting for me there. “Time to strut your stuff, pal,” Marlene said.

“You sure you want to do this?” I asked. “You can still call it off.”

“I’m not going to do it, you are. You’re going to win. My only reservation is a table for three at eight o’clock.”

Linda gave me a kiss for luck and a gentle shove to get me started into the play area. I wasn’t at all surprised to see the same “Simon” who had presided over the game last year; someone told me he does this professionally, like a Little League umpire. He didn’t recognize me (why should he?) as I lined up on the outside of the third row.

When everyone was in position Marlene, acting as MC, introduced the players and the caller. I felt the butterflies beginning to churn in my stomach while Marlene was describing the rules and the stakes.

“Now, players, relax and focus, pay attention, and have fun. The game begins now.” At the words “relax and focus” the butterflies fell quiet and I felt that familiar, locked-in feeling again. I saw Marlene hand the caller the microphone and fixed my attention entirely on his voice.

“Simon says let’s give Marlene a hand,” he said, applauding as he watched her step off the improvised stage. Of course we applauded too—the game was on. Simon then addressed someone in the first row. “Should we start out easy, or get wicked right away?”

“Easy, please,” she answered, then slapped a hand over her mouth—too late. My analytical self was amused to observe that my record from last year had just been broken.

“I hate to deny someone their last wish,” Simon continued, “so let’s start slow. Simon says face left ... Simon says face right ... Simon says touch your toes ... Simon says touch your neighbor’s toes ... You can stand up now ... okay, Simon says stand up now ... Simon says turn around 360 degrees (this while himself turning only 180) ... Simon says everybody not facing me is out.

“Simon says do jumping jacks ... Simon says keep doing them until I tell you to stop ... Simon says I’m taking a lunch break, see you in an hour. (The crowd laughed heartily, but the players dared not.)

“Simon says you put your left foot in ... Simon says you put your left foot out ... Simon says you put your left foot in and you shake it all about ... You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself about ... And those who just did, YOU’RE OUT!”

Like I said, the guy is good. The players’ ranks thinned steadily over the course of about 15 minutes until only about six were left. He had us close up ranks, then hopped off the stage, microphone in hand, and selected each player in turn for a few minutes of personal attention.

“Simon says where’d you get that T-shirt, I like it ... The shorts too? ... okay, Simon says did you get the shorts there too? ... Very good.

The next victim was Natalie, a clerk in my department. “Simon says how do you like it so far? ... Simon says hold your breath ... " Simon lowered his voice until I could just hear it and spoke into Natalie’s ear. “Simon says did you hear about the constipated mathematician? He worked it out with a pencil.” Her reaction was completely predictable—a groan burst out of her mouth, and she even got as far as “That’s sick!” before realizing that she was out.

Simon worked his way down the line until he came to me, putting his face in mine like a movie drill sergeant with a new recruit. “You’re doing all right for yourself, aren’t you? ... Simon says what’s your name? (’Michael’, I answered) ... Simon says take 3 steps backward, Mitch ... Why didn’t you move back? ... Simon says why didn’t you move back? (’Because I’m not Mitch.’) ... Hang in there, Fred, you may just win this one.”

It was down to just me and someone Marlene had introduced as Jennifer, a junior manager from one of the claims departments. He started with her.

“Simon says let me shake your hand, honey ... Simon says you can let go now ... (Indicating me) Simon says do you know this guy? (’No’) ... Simon says are you afraid of this guy? (’No’) ... Then why don’t you step closer to him? ... Okay, Simon says take three steps left.” As he said this, Simon took 3 steps to his own left, toward me. Jennifer’s eye overrode her ears and she took her 3 steps toward me—to her right. Simon pounced. “That’s your left? You’re out.”

He grabbed my right arm and raised it high. “Simon says we have a winner!” I had no idea it would feel so good to win a stupid kid’s game. It felt even better a few seconds later, when Linda broke through the crowd and wrapped her arms around me. “You were brilliant, " she praised.

“Actually, it was more like the opposite. I was hardly thinking at all.”

Marlene spoke up from behind me: “That’s why it worked. I knew you had it in you.” She gave me a sisterly kiss on the cheek. “Damn good job. I have to go take my turn in the dunking booth. I’ll see you two for dinner, right? Eight o’clock.”

I started to suggest someplace less fancy, but Linda cut me off. “We’ll be there, and dinner’s on me.” Beaming, she showed me her pool ticket. “See? I was the only one who picked you to win.” Her share of the pool was enough to cover our dinner and then some.

Shortly thereafter Linda and I were heading back to our car. We went by the dunk tank to say goodbye to Marlene. She was still in position, sitting suspended over a tank of cold water, a small bullseye connected to a lever at her side. Her hair and her eye-popping red bikini both looked disappointingly dry. I saw on the sign next to her that the current jackpot was worth $37 to the person who could dunk her.

Marlene saw us and waved. We waved back and started shouting goodbye. “Hey, champ!” Marlene called, “Simon says try and dunk me.”

To everyone else present, it was a cute reference to my victory in the game. To my body, though, it was a command which had to be obeyed. As if through a hidden camera, I watched myself give the cashier 5 dollars for 3 baseballs. I heard Linda address Marlene. “Aren’t you freezing up there?”

“Nope—nobody’s been able to get me wet yet. Not the way Michael can.” Marlene’s laughter at her own double entendre was cut short when my first pitch hit squarely on the target. The ropes holding her perch aloft let go, dumping her instantly into the water. She thrashed around for a minute while the attendant reset the perch, then climbed back into position. “SHEESH that’s cold!” the exclaimed, giving a mock shiver before reaching out to either side for the ropes that helped her steady. With so much skin in view, the water streaming off her body captured the attention of every straight male within 100 feet, easily. Yes, mine too—even with my wife standing there, I took a long, lingering look at that splendid body. “You ready for some more?” I asked, holding my second ball at the ready.

As she was saying “Go for it” I threw the ball, again hitting the sweet spot. The bench was released, Marlene dropped like a stone and wild cheers erupted from the audience. I was becoming a hero to my coworkers, apparently—the males ones, at least. They started chanting “Do it again, do it again, do it again ...”

Marlene was a little slower climbing back on her perch this time. Her nipples were clearly trying to poke through the triangle bikini top and I thought I caught a hint of goose bumps on her arms. That water must be frigid, I thought. “Maybe you should put on something warmer.”

She shook her head. “No need. One more dunk and my tour is over. Think you can do it again, stud?”

I grinned. “You bet—I owe you for yesterday, remember?” I reared back and fired my last ball. Once again it pounded the center of the target, sending Marlene into the drink. My cheering section went wild, continuing to applaud and whistling loudly as Marlene climbed out of the tank. Waving back at them, she retired to a cabana behind the stage. After making sure Marlene had a ride home, Linda and I left the picnic and had a very normal, pleasant Saturday afternoon. I had gotten even with Marlene for her Friday night trick, so I was ready to dismiss the whole thing from my mind. I should have known better.