The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sunday it wasn’t there.

Monday it was. On the corner of the sidewalk.

“How quaint,” sniffed the man in the business suit as he walked past, rolling his eyes and chatting away on his cell.

“Mommy, look—a see-through fort!” yelled the little boy, tugging at his mother’s arm as she hauled him down the sidewalk.

“Damn! Fresh meat!” the gangsta wannabee smiled, waving his can of spray paint.

Far, far away, two figures watched through a viewscreen as the thug proceeded to tag red and black hieroglyphics on all four sides of the glass booth.

“Gee, Boss, it’s not working,” said the big one.

“I can SEE that, you overgrown elephantine blob of puss flesh,” sniveled the shorter one. “Maybe we need a new location.” He rubbed his hands together ominously.

Tuesday morning, the corner of 4th and Vine had a new feature.

“What’s that?” asked the teen as he pointed to it.

“I dunno, dude, maybe it’s supposed to, like, keep the rain off while you wait for the bus?”

“DUDE! What a bitchin’ idea! I hate gettin’ wet.”

“Yeah, but you’d think they’d, like, make it bigger, huh?”

“Morons!” the small, bald, dwarfish man droned with contempt as he peered into the viewscreen, “I am attempting to rule a world populated by morons.”

“Yeah Boss, why do you want to rule the world anyway? Just seems like a big headache to me.”

(Author’s note: TIme for some audience participation. In order for the following monologue to not sound too silly, I need for you all to rub your hands together while reading it aloud, droning away in a low monotone. Just don’t look in the mirror while doing so. Thank you.)

“Because, you oafish pile of unorganized atoms, it is what I do. It is why I wake up each morning and why I go to sleep each night. It is part of my very being, my ego, id and superego—like my father and his father before him. It is the only topic of discussion at the bar Sinister family reunions. That and Aunt Mattie’s spiral ham. Mmmmm, taking over the world. I can taste it.”

“Whoa, Boss, I had no idea...”

“Obviously, you cretin. Only I will succeed where my father and his father failed.”

“What about...you know,” his voice lowered to a whisper. “Him.”

“That rhyming canine was canceled LONG ago, you towering ignoramus! The world, and the greater portion of Aunt Mattie’s spiral ham, will be MINE. MINE!”

“But, Boss, what if they won’t go in?”

“Well, then,” he rubbed his hands together some more. For emphasis. “We’ll simply have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

Wednesday morning, the new phone booth at the corner of 4th and Vine had two strangely familiar figures standing next to it.

“Hey, Boss, here comes a lady.”

“I can see that, you simpering excuse for a homo sapien. You know what to do.”

“OK, Boss.”

The smaller man approached her. “Pardon me, miss, but I think you need to make a phone call.”

“Who the hell are you? Get your arms OFF me.”

“SIMON SAYS you NEED to make a phone call.”

The big man shoved the gun in her stomach.

“Oh, if you put it THAT way.”

As she stepped into the phone booth, the little man sighed. “Oh, how I do so hate using brute force. It’s so...”

“...easy?” The big man smiled.

“...undignified, you pitiful waste of oxygen.” He turned to the booth and smiled as the assorted eerie 60s’ sound effects filled the soundtrack.

Ten seconds later, the door opened and the young woman shuffled out, her eyes swirling like two little pinwheels.

“It worked,” The little man smiled evilly, his hands rubbing together. Dogs wag their tails. Evil mad scientists rub their hands together. Nature at work.

“Yeah, Boss, it even made her smarter.”

“What are you blathering about, you simpering simpleton?”

“She’s got a light bulb on her head.”

“That’s an electrode, you idiot! Artistic shorthand for all of your half-wit relatives in the audience.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Now, let’s see what our little slave will do for me.”

“Ooo! Ooo! Make her take her top off, Boss.”

“Who do I look like, you overgrown clod, Riff-Raff?”

“Sorry, Boss. But...I mean...look at those hooters.”

“’Hooters?’” Is that some kind of illiterate henchman street slang?”

“Oh, come on, Boss, you know; boobies, titties, knockers, headlights...”

“Is that what you do in your spare time, you moronic ogre, read pornography? On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, Boss, but, I mean, just LOOK.”

“Well, I suppose that it might be an interesting...experiment. We are on a public street, after all.”

“Yeah, Boss, if she’ll do that, she’ll do anything, right?”

“I suppose. Simon says, take off your blouse.”

“I must do as Simon says.”

“Ooo! Ooo! Boss, she’d doing it!”

“Of course, she’s doing it, you blithering...”

“Wow, just LOOK at those, Boss!”

“Yes, well...”

“Oh, please, PLEASE Boss, make her take off the bra.”

“I don’t...think...”

“But BOSS, look at those nipples poking out!”

“Well, yes, they are...stimulating, aren’t they?”

“If she’ll show those to the whole world, Boss, she’ll do ANYTHING, right?”

“As much as I am loathe to admit it, you worthless, brainless...”

“Oh, c’mon Boss?”

“Oh, very well. Simon says, remove your bra.”

“I must do as Simon says.”

“WOW!”

“Yes...well...”

“DAMN!”

“I realize that someone of your limited mental capacity may not have ever been this close to a woman before, but...”

“Oh, GEEZ, Boss, those belong in Playboy!”

“Would you please lower your voice, you dimwit?”

“Sorry, Boss, but I got a BONER that won’t quit!”

“I really did not need to hear that.”

“I’m serious, Boss, I gotta take care of this before I wet my pants!”

“Ewww, well we can’t have THAT, can we?” He shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the phone booth. “Why don’t you just go in there and take care of it?”

“GREAT idea, Boss, I’ll be right back.”

“And don’t forget to clean up after yourself!” The evil genius rolled his evil eyes as the not-so-bright henchman closed the door behind him. “They just don’t make exposition partners like they used to.”

He turned his attention back to the near-naked lady standing next to him. He noticed, with scientific dispassion of course, that the light breeze had hardened her rather pert and sizable nipples. He was just about to try another order when the phone booth door opened and his moronic ex-assistant stepped out, his once lazy eyes now swirling like something from Laugh-In and the dim bulb on his head flashing like the backglass of a pinball machine. Unfortunately, those weren’t the main thing he noticed.

“Simon says put that nasty thing back in your pants.”

“I must do as Simon says.”

“Excellent.” The little man rubbed his hands together and looked around. “Simon says go play in traffic.”

“I must do as Simon says.”

“Oh, and Simon says don’t get hit by a car.”

“I must do as Simon says.”

“Wait for a truck.”

He rubbed his hands together and watched the brain-addled hulk amble off into the street for a few seconds, then turned his attention back to the female. “What is your name?”

“Darla Gilbert.”

“Well, Darla, it seems I am in need of a new exposition partner,” he said with just a hint of sarcasm as the sound of screeching tires and busting glass intruded from off screen.

“I must do as Simon says.”

“Of course. Of course.” He stared upward at her, moving to peer up between her massive bosom. “What is your...IQ?”

“175.”

“Excellent!” He beamed and began rubbing his hands together again, just before taking her right arm and leading her down the sidewalk.

“And Darla, my darling, exactly how would you feel about ruling the world?”

“I would LOVE to rule your world.”

He cackled maniacally as she bent down to kiss him on his little bald head. “With you by my side, I shall be the center of attention at the next bar Sinister reunion. Speaking of which...”

“Can you cook an especially tasty spiral ham?”