The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

So You Wanna Be a Producer

By BluejayGS

Starkman88@aol.com

Call him the Creator, the maker of stars one of the competing masterminds behind the 10 channel system that by the present time held virtually everyone in its thrall. By 2019 America had become perfect nation of perfect people who know only the world as told by the television to them and see only that world in front of them even if it tries to jump up and slap them in the face. And as the executive producer, it is his world to create, his thoughts to forge and his minds to control. So when a young man walks into his Hollywood office, blonde touched hair neatly slicked back, spotless suit, hanging his hat on the rack so perfectly provided to him he was happy to call the man staring back at him the Creator.

“No! What kind of sinner are you? I am not the Creator, I am the creative. I am the mind of what you see,” He replies, looking at his young cohort, fresh out of Brown. But then he lights up a cigarette in its long holder, the smoke going all around him. “We do not create the world, we create what the world does, thinks, eats, drinks, loves, hates, kills, steals, buys and tries. For that we indeed are the Creator,” he continues.

“Yes sir, I know about the actors and actresses. I created one in college, she’s now doing weather for the local news station.” The young man replies, obviously intimidated but not at all afraid of the million dollar studio he was interviewing in.

“Writing and producing are two different things. Please, call me Warner, and before you ask, I do NOT have siblings locked up in the water tower. If I ever find the gossip writer who planted that garbage I’ll sue ‘em for every last dime. It makes a very good income supplement between projects, you know.” Warner notes.

The young man laughs. “Very funny, Warner!”

“You catch on quickly, the resume did not lie when you said you were a smart man. Brown teaches very well these days. And I thought the hippies overran them and drugged them into sin with those maddening reefers. That was one of my first projects, and well, so what if it was a revival from the 50s! We stopped that madneess cold. We are the new pot, my friend, not to mention, crack, beer and LSD and well, we all love to smoke it every minute, every day, every second of our lives. That’s what makes us who we are. So are you sure you want to be a producer?” Warner declares.

“I am so unsure, I mean manipulating minds like that, it always seemed so sinful, yet we’ve done it for years. You should know, you were there from the beginning, right, Mr. Warner, you were the one who brought us Natalie, didn’t you?” asks the young man.

“I wrote her first starring role. I let her keep the Oscar, though, she’s such a diva. Not the least bit like any of her peers. I dunno who her original producer was, but I have no clue how such a spoiled brat like her stays on the A-List. She still fights her programming even though she became an actress in 2009, the first and the supposed best. HA! What does Hollywood know about no talent bitches like Natalie anyway? She can’t even hold her lines, always runs off the script, who knows WHAT that thing will say on live TV, keeps saying God for Jesus and using the formal name for God, and then that flap over the cheeseburger... how she became so popular is beyond anyone around her. She’s why I don’t write anymore. I like to be in control, rather than just making up what they are going to say next. But I gotta thank ol’ Nat, she’s why I’m a producer, and her competitor, and one day she will finally be dead because of me and it’ll be my finest hour.”

Warner leans back in his chair and shows off his collection of awards, pictures of various actors and actresses that adorn every corner of his office, before continuing.

“Although you gotta thank Sammy. He created those 10, you’d think they were Britney themselves.” Warner screams in supposed delight.

The young man laughs. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty cool. Actually I grew up with Natalie and Tracy and even Shawna, I was hoping to get their autographs one day.”

“Oh don’t give me that. You really don’t get it? We are the actors and actresses. Us, the studio, the writers and the producers, no one else! The so called actors and actresses are nothing without us. We make them that way with our machines. The same media machine that makes everyone listen to and believe the calm words of our beautiful and sexy people. I guess we are a victim of our own success. But let me set it our for you, all that crap I’ve heard from Sammy’s camp…It was an outrage! Spewing that filth... Sammy’s nothing but a TV hack. Should go back to the days of sticking people on islands and making fun of how they react. That’s what you’re here for. We need a new project, one to get the people back to the theatres. A new face, a new name, something that will take the edge off those dykes in New York.” Warner’s face turns red with anger.

“I know about the mind control computers. I know they are useless puppets but I have better things to spread than hate. I don’t know why I’m here, I’m an artist who happens to know the equipment pretty well and now you want me to produce a new blockbuster? I don’t understand why you must think so cruel despite speaking so soothingly of the truth. I thought you were the same company” he inquires.

Warner seems unfazed at this outburst and answers his question.

“We compete for viewers, just so we get the same message across it’s good to be on top, make more money that way. Besides, kid I want you to get coffee and answer phones!”

Not what he expected, Rupert gets up and begins to leave and Warner just rolls his eyes. “So gullible, I say it, you play it, just like everyone here. I do my job too well sometimes. C’mon back kid, I was just joking, I got Tara for the simple stuff. Looker hooker for the teen comedy Stumble Into Bliss Yes, it was a low budget affair, even for 2012, but it was worth it when that young girl tripped over her heels into the arms of her man, never to let herself be free of the undying love that kept her from hitting the floor. It was pure teen fluff. I created her just for the part, so she fit it to a T and well it was very easy for me to write it took me a day to do the script. Heck, they still like her, she still gets fanmail years later with pictures of little girls named Tara. She now works as my receptionist. And if you are kind enough, she may just stumble into your arms as well. In fact...”

Warner flashes an evil grin and buzzes in Tara and in walks in a thirtysomething blonde still dressed in a short denim skirt, pink top with obviously fake breasts and wooden platform sandals that the young man almost laughs at because they are so out of date. She waves at him and goes to shake his hand. On cue, she trips, falls into the young man’s arms and gives a heartfelt and helpless sigh and looks at him starstruck before giving him a quick firm kiss on the lips running her perfectly manicured fingers down his cheek and luring him in with a seductive grin. This was against Rupert’s programming but he began to feel relaxed as the television in the office sprang to life with one of Tara’s movies on while Warner watched on in delight.

“Hold all calls, I’m completing a hire.” Warner buzzed to his secretary and then pressed another button on his phone while Tara gazed vacantly into Rupert’s widening eyes as she continued her seduction of him.

“Take him all the way under Tara, baby, he needs to loosen up if he is going to make it in this town.” Warner said and he watched with delight as Tara guided his hands down her top and across her large breasts ensuring that Rupert’s trembling fingers got a good healthy taste of her cleavage. Rupert continued to try to resist. It was drilled into his mind since high school, you choose the woman and lead her toward the path to wifedom, you love them and protect them and you do not just give into the pleasures of the flesh. He could feel himself stiffening as Tara’s skirt rode high and she felt this and began to grind herself against Rupert as the subliminal messages from the television picked up in Rupert’s head and told him to give into this doll wanting him so badly. That he can create as many of these as he wants, have anybody if he just gave up caring about silly morals and finally Rupert’s eyes went blank and he lifted up Tara’s top with ease and saw her naked breasts and fondled and kissed them with great intent while quickly stole a glance and a giggle at Warner as if to say “Mission accomplished.” Warner was now stroking himself at his voyeurism, he created this altered version of the production equipment and Tara was his perfect starlet to execute the physical seduction that served as both a means of induction AND a means of protection lest his charges end up total puppets like Tara herself.

Indeed this simple seduction was key, Warner realized years ago that the mind control element present in all media was working a little too well. His new writers and producers were pensive and unagressive. They felt ill at ease about casting young women and producing them into models and actresses, always afraid what they wife may think. Even worse their perception of beauty started to slip and they begged to cast ugly actors and actresses in key roles because they reminded them of themselves or their spouse. This was not acceptable, the sirens on screen NEEDED to be seductive to distract the minds of the people and make them open to programming. Worse yet their work began to suffer and was becoming stale and boring even by Hollywood’s strict paint by numbers strategy. He realized that to get ahead he needed to bring back some of the killer instinct and natural lust for women in his staff. Enter Tara and other washed up one time use puppets they had lurking about doing preprogrammed menial tasks to keep them busy but now there was a better use for them.

Warner sighed long and hard as Tara completed an expert blowjob on young Rupert, now fully enjoying every second of this and calling the shots, directing this puppet to fill his every desire. Warner smiled in delight as Tara slipped off her skirt and panties on command and then undresses Rupert like a good woman should. Tara becoming more and more submissive as Rupert gets more and more aggressive. Yes he was directing like a pro now as he laid down Tara and fucked her as hard as he could until he came and he ordered Tara to do the same. Warner waited for Rupert to recover as he came down from his hypnotic fantasy as Tara got dressed and did the same to Rupert who’s mind was still buzzing, his encounter with Tara shaking him to the core and reducing his inhibitions and values to rubble so he can do his job the best he could. After a few minutes Warner flipped off the television and had Tara kiss Rupert to awaken him then slowly and seductively walk away to remind his reprogrammed brain of his awakened lust for good looking women.

“If I didn’t like ya, kid, her hands would have hot coffee in them. She’s cute, still does some channel 9 softcore for a little self-fulfillment. She’s old and all teenage, but she’s got a home here. She’s useful around the office. Kid, you got a name you prefer?” Warner finally gets his mistake and inquires, not wanting to admit that he can’t recall after watching him completely made over by his beautiful Tara..

“Rupert, I came over here from England in 2012. We never left after the Olympics, you’d never know it now! And man your women are HOT! I must say! If that woman’s washed up, I can’t wait to see what A List looks like” Rupert declares.

“No shame, I can see why you want to be a producer, Rupert is a great producer’s name,” Warner says not wanting Rupert to question why he was now drinking in every poster of scantly clad actresses adorning the walls. “Now on to the task at hand. We need to create something earth-shattering, something that will get these people to notice how great our country is. Someone to keep those TV hacks from gaining too much ground. A new A-list talent to take from the Ten Commanders that Samuel has. A new face for the new generation. A new icon...” Warner continued.

Rupert quickly slipped back into his trance and began to mold his ideal woman in his head.

“A new idol, someone who will set the new trends, put what is in out, and what is out back in. Something new, something more bold, still moral, still believing, still great but new, different, innovative. I got the script. Dramatic comedy...”

Warner writes down the formula for the script. “Okay, class 4.”

“A war...”

Warner: “Style 5, military actor.”

“No, not a man, a woman,” says Rupert.

Warner grows angry, women in militarily heroic or combat roles was against standards, that would just not do. “We have standards in this town! This isn’t Bombay where anything goes as long as they don’t look like Limeys!”

“It’s not your common war, it’s fought here, against the homosexuals,” Rupert explains.

Warner is still skeptical all that work and he’s still doing boring rehashes of his old pictures rather than creating new ideas to expand on the homophobia that Warner wanted. “The last thing we need is another Levittown. Besides, no actress, not even Shawna anymore, would dare touch another woman in a way to be believable.”

“It’s not among just the bored and the young. It’s not to educate, it’s to motivate. It’s a comedy because the woman doesn’t know how to protect her children without her husband, gone to defend this great land in battle against the great communist evil of Venezuela. And yet the deplorable faggots and dykes harbor themselves among law-abiding citizens. She’s always resourceful, saving herself to the very end, doing whatever it takes to keep her family safe from the devil.” Rupert declares and Warner breathes a sigh of relief and writes down the very real formula of which scripts are written by computer.

“Oh, so Class 4, dramatic comedy; Style 14, domestic heroine; Setting 34, the borderlands; Climax 88, destruction and holy cleansing of the maddened souls of the Asylum state,” Warner says, writing everything down with a flourish. “Now for your first production job: a new woman, tender on the outside, loyal to her husband, to the point that the lace of her tenderness turns into cold steel when her husband is not present AND her family is threatened.” Warner continued, this is where his protégé would earn his stripes, creating this actress to convey the deep message into the open and relaxed mind of the people.

“Yes, don’t want the breakage of marital bonds because she takes her protective side too seriously, hence the comedy.” Rupert adds defending his work with a smile.

“What better way to suck down a faggot than with a Coolidge vacuum cleaner?” Warner notes the potential for corporate backing, after all, while all the work may have to be hateful and god fearing to please the government, the real motivation of a true producer is that of salesman to move product and get sponsor dollars. Pleasing the government just makes them feel good and lets them continue to use the subliminal control system.

“And nothing says love for a family than killing a dyke with your Elizabeth Coppell cookie sheet,” Rupert adds as they head out for casting.

A long swath of blonde greets them, all ages and sizes, all in town just for the week on vacation touring the studios. They eye their prospects and see a young woman, in black jeans but with a pink top. She looks somewhat bored, but is still interested.

“Hmmm, she looks about right. She isn’t your average housewife. She has a shot of Channel 8 blood in her but yet she is still loyal as can be. She’s got that streak that will make her turn into a defender if needed yet she is all you’d want in a wife.” Rupert declares.

“Shall I make the offer?” Warner asks.

“I want to see her speak.” Rupert replies worried if the woman could convey what is needed to be conveyed.

“This isn’t second-hand local production equipment. We can edit everything down to the smallest detail in production. Ah, I love technology,” Warner boasts of his new equipment.

“All right, then,” says Rupert. “But if it is going to be my production. I should be able to make the offer.”

“By all means. Break a leg!” Says Warner and Rupert goes down and introduces himself to the woman. She accepts his offer with anticipation and is led to the film room.

A day passes and we see Rupert and Warner up in the editing booth as the various films flash before the woman’s eyes which are a glossy and shiny blue, her attention locked on the screen, her emotions nothing but bliss as she pleasures her naked body, her clothes strewn wherever she could throw them away from her. Her induction complete and her brain wiped clean. The canvas was now ready for painting and sculpting by the eager young artist. Warner explains things to Rupert.

“We need a name for her, something feminine, protective, innocent, yet something that shows her inner desire and determination.” Warner lays out the first task.

“Lucy. Stubborn yet she knows what she loves, and that makes her even more stubborn.” Rupert says this and Lucy begins reciting her new name with deep glee, almost timing it to the slow thrusts to her insides.

“A star is born,” Rupert says with a chuckle of pride at his new creation. “Now her love, it should be, of course, sweet submission, but not out of just righteous lust, but strength. Yes her hero should be god-like. But more reserved, someone who could settle down and desires to care for her, but must fight to provide.” Rupert dreams up Lucy’s new memories and interests and scribbles them down on her blank mental pad to the proper level of acceptance.

“Loneliness making her more determined to keep what is hers, this rings out to hundreds of thousands of women and will inject a desire to our men to fight harder in the trenches so they can come home and resume their sacred duty,” Warner adds.

Three days pass, and Lucy starts to take shape before their eyes, sweetness and lace on the outside but eyes of steel that are a door to her dogged inside. Her hair is a darker blonde than when she started, her deep resolve now repressed behind a domestic smile. Her youth has been exaggerated and now she looks mid 20s, freshly married, but the pride in her smile shows that she has fulfilled at least part of her wifely duty.

“Just one child. I say make her duty incomplete, interrupted, explaining why her inner anger is that much more resolved, she needs and deeply desires to have her husband return so she could finish her job” Rupert adds in as he writes the notes.

“Even the cheapest hack will run with that one, Rupert, she could end up a country channel farmer bitch and they still could make her sound Emmy-worthy. But we’re not letting that happen. I’ve already enlisted the best writers. You have A-list material there. Keep it up.” Warner takes pride in his new producer’s creation as Lucy speaks her freshly written history to them to see if she got it right, we hear an edge of anger, not the normal moan of sorrow at her family situation.

“She’s eating this up. You picked the right mold. None of this is forced. It’s coming to her naturally and she is picking it up with ease. I think you cast her exactly as she was, someone who’s life was interrupted by her husband marching off to war. That part of casting is a lost art. That’s what makes a good actress an Oscar winner,” Warner says.

Three more days and Lucy is out of the screening room her mental conditioning complete. Her eyes have locked in a sniper’s stance but the rest of her appears warm and domestic. She speaks kindly but with less of a drawl, and a small hint of New England to her. She now stands perfectly still, a statue ready for its final painting as she stands in wardrobe.

“Not your normal housewife’s dress. Show her youth, her struggle, and her knowledge of the evil. That’s it! Silver, not white.” Rupert comes up with the idea.

“You suggest past sin, sex out of wedlock? Edgy stuff. I don’t want her pigeonholed as a rebel channel reformed whore,” Warner warns.

“Good thinking. Pure white blouse, but a black miniskirt. Not of the short yet elegant type widows wear to ensnare an older new husband, a little longer to show her marital commitment, but short enough to hint at her knowledge of the darkness that lurks and threatens those who are alone,” Rupert suggests and Lucy is taken back into the changing room.

“But what indeed is the threat? We cannot have misguided rebellion, it must be done just in the name of her own defense and the defense of her fellow woman. We do not dare suggest female empowerment, that leads to all sorts of sin.” Warner cautions.

“The threat is homosexuality. High-heeled boots, not too long, something vaguely associated with the dyke but not obvious enough to repulse the viewer. The designers are gonna LOVE this new trend, 20-something women snatching up the new Lucy look. Leather and boots will be the biggest thing since Natalie’s leadership skirt!” Rupert adds.

Lucy comes out in her new outfit and is returned to the screening room to finish off her role, the only life she now knows, a complete puppet there to recite the views of her producer, Rupert, but which come out as if they were the word of god himself. One more day passes and Lucy meets her writer, a soldier just returned from military communications who worked for the Rebel Channel before he went to spread the word of freedom to a newly liberated Columbia. The writer smiles as Lucy takes to him.

“She is unique, this baroness of Bridgeport. She is definitely not the low-budget throwaway actress I was expecting from you, Warner,” the writer observes.

“Give credit to her producer, the newest member of the Warner board, Rupert Alexander. He will be handling Lucy and all of her upcoming cohorts.”

“Thank you! We’ll have her debut tomorrow at the Brown Derby?” Rupert asks.

“It’s tradition, the first time for someone destined to be A-list though. Wow, what an honor, what a woman.” The writer adds, Lucy gives a small smile to the compliment and then they load into the limo and drive off into Beverly Hills for Lucy’s new home.

“Nothing short of the highest hills, but something New England, Victorian, show her roots,” Warner orders the driver and he finds the perfect lot. Lucy is taken out of the limo and her jaw drops in anticipation of her new home.

“It says Lucyville! It’s so cute. I wish my Derek was here to see it, he’d be so proud of me!” Lucy’s preprogrammed and recorded appreciation comes out and is filmed for the news agencies. As is common with a new star, Lucy gives a tour of the house and the tape is quickly sent off to the various press networks. Lucy then changes into a silver evening gown with matching high heeled shoes and bright earrings as they head off to the Brown Derby where all the writers and producers are waiting for their new star and to find her first movie role.

“So, Rupert, this is Lucy? She is charming indeed, she does have that weird little fusion you were talking about. mainstream values, total commitment to Jesus, and yet deep inside, a rebel’s fire, but one that is controlled and magnified into a ruthless desire to defend her home from the unwanted homosexual. I love the script, so we’re going to push up its release to the summer season. We start shooting tomorrow. Shawna will be in it as the villain to up her standing. Shawna will play a high school basketball coach who Lucy played for when she was young. Lucy knows her sin, and now that she has borne a child Shawna tries to seduce her away from her path to have a child to claim for her own. I have the final scene already written out. Shawna has put the entire team into a state of raving lust, but in a final plea tempers their desires and tries to trick Lucy into a false sense of security by assuring her that they will be committing themselves to serve the community as model citizens like she has, while privately sharing their sin. Lucy kills them all before our nation can be poisoned. The last scene has her husband return- by the way, we were thinking Charlie, it has a strange little ring to it and he’s got a military background- anyway, she is in her old uniform, and Charlie doesn’t know if she has been poisoned by the Devil’s lust or not. But then she strips herself, throwing her uniform into the fire where the cameras pan to see the uniform burning as the last line is uttered...’You defended your country, I defended mine.’” The director gives his vision to Rupert and he agrees with a laugh.

“Well, I guess the heroine should meet her predator then.” Rupert leads Lucy over to the sacred table 10, where the Ten Commanding Comics sit with their mindless grins, the same thing every night. Tracy’s impatient for the food to come out, Shawna’s drinking Oaktree soda straight out of the can while Natalie gives everyone a stern look.

“This is Lucy, she’ll be starring with Shawna in the new Warner production Defense Wins. Shawna, you’ll be the damned villain again and...”

Natalie interrupts him. “Lucy, you look very defensive, are you alone? Do join us.” She offers a seat to the new star as Rupert returns to the writer’s table.

“I have never seen that, ever! Natalie doesn’t act kind to non-Commanding Comics even if we scream into her microphone, and that was unscripted! You know what this means?” Warner exclaims.

“We’ve created the 11th commandment. Thou shalt not accept faggots,” Rupert says with a smile and all the writers laugh while the actresses giggle mindlessly.

A month passes and Defense Wins is the highest grossing picture of the year, its impact felt beyond that of even Levittown. It breaks records and ends women’s basketball everywhere except Pittsburgh, the Hudson Valley and Lucy’s supposed home state, Conneticut. Warner, Rupert, and Lucy are in the Brown Derby again. Shawna is wearing a golden basketball pin as a cruel joke at Lucy as they sit down at table 10 and exchange their prepackaged jokes and gossip while the director smiles at Rupert.

“Got one for this December, HOPEless. It shows how the supposedly reformed sinners are still under the mind control of the devil, it is an unbreakable spell. Once again it’s Lucy protecting her home from this threat. I was actually thinking of having her battle the lust that the HOPE releasee thrusts upon her. Show how the Devil’s lust CAN be conquered but only before, NEVER after sins of the flesh have been exchanged.” The director gives his pitch.

“We would need someone who is a new villain. Perhaps a student, give Lucy the woman’s labor of teaching. She can welcome back the student after a “successful” HOPE camp stay, only to have her school fall prey to her sins,” Rupert suggests.

“Always the edgy one, Rupert.” The director smiles. “New blood?”

“Yes,” Rupert replies with a wry smile, secretly hoping for the chance to create another woman in his image.

A week passes and we see an 18-year-old blonde in the screening room as Rupert works above. Lucy stands above him in her black skirt and white blouse as he rounds out the new star’s character.

“A born dyke, but one who could step away from the typecast. A redhead for this role, and one who has the qualities of a woman yet, shows her damnation. Now a name for her.”

Rupert turns around and stares at Lucy and her perfect form, and as if a perfect chain of mindlessness has been formed, the perfect form of Britney captivating the new starlet as her mind is melted into oblivion and the perfect form of his billion-dollar baby captivating Rupert.

Rupert can no longer resist and he whispers into his intercom at Lucy and she gladly saunters over and straddles her master and he kisses her deeply and undresses her as he takes to her leather skirt and black pantyhose. Warner is seen above laughing at his charges, yes he knew how to lead the blind, and that is with the blind as he stands watching as Lucy echoes the commands to Rupert that really are Warner’s. The truth is that Warner learned quickly that he could have total control over everyone and be the boss though his production equipment if he altered some of the messages. These were his scripts he was channeling through his supposed artist.

Warner watches as Rupert blindly types in the new name of his villainess between moans of pleasure as he slides his hands up Lucy’s skirt. .

Marcy.

And as Marcy recites her name, Rupert can do nothing recite Lucy’s while she bobs away at his swollen cock as his new creations become him and complete his captivity at Warner’s hand, They all bow down to him, for he is their creator. They are the supervixens, and he is the new religion, the one that has separated 2019 from 2018, and whose faith is the only one known by 2020.