The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Reusable, Reseal-able, Re-transmittable

We get together twice a week. The whole group. Once for rehearsal and once for the “live broadcast” show. My sister in law lives with us now full time. Most of the week she performs her household servant (sic savant, hehehe) )duties, but two days a week she joins us for “playtime” Capital P -lay time). Oh, of course she still has those annoying household products parties. You know, where women get together and sell each other the latest completely unnecessary household gadgets, food preparation stuff, and ten thousand Reseal able leftover holders for the two or three times a year those things actually get used (if ever). Hey, I figured she might as well do something to help out financially. All those costumes, props, and all that paint costs money. Not to mention the sets and the studio and... But I’m getting ahead of myself again. Way ahead. But I am happy that casting wasn’t a problem. Ahhh, you are confused. Perhaps I should go back to the beginning. Not back to the very beginning, but far enough where you can catch up on things.

Most of you are already up on what happened to my wife Barbara. The video tape? Subliminals? Sex Slave training? The... mistake (that turned out to be the greatest thing that ever.. Easy getting too excited just thinking about it.)? The kiddie show getting overlaid onto my slave tape and Barbarasaurus becoming the kinky host of an (at the time) imaginary tv show with slightly adult themes? Well that was just the beginning really. I didn’t plan to go half this far but... if life gives you television. Go PBS.

I obviously carried out the next part of my plan or I wouldn’t have more to write about here. My sister in law is now a regular, a sidekick, and as I already stated a domestic. That last bit wasn’t exactly part of the original master plan but it was a nice little extra considering everything we went through to convince her to... I really must stop getting ahead and telling it all out of order. I am not an experienced writer so please excuse me. I am writing it as it comes back to me and some of it is understandably jumbled. It all came about so fast. Got out of hand. But let me try to explain.

Back to the Beginning: Mercenary to TV Producer (No change really)

I thought about what I had done the whole way home. I hadn’t really made my mind up yet. Whether to actually use the special tape I made. Yes, that line is direct from my first story but funny enough it still applied, but to Barb’s sister.

I hated her, couldn’t stand her, wanted to reshape her, but none the less still hesitated. To do something like this to your own wife who I was...helping was one thing. But kidnaping, forceful induction/slavery, and the complications of controlling someone not living under the same roof did give me more than a little pause. But like with Barb things quickly got out of hand and took on a life of their own...

I got held up at work that Tuesday, the day “sis” was to arrive. I wondered what the schedule for trains leaving hell was... Of course she came in early and I was late. Barb met her and took her back to the house. And to my almost infinite chagrin immediately (promptly?) popped in a tape. By the time I got there “sis” was staring blankly at the screen while Barb performed along. How this got set in motion I may never know but it relieved me of the responsibility...again. Hehehe. But unlike with Barb there were serious complications. Her sister was no mental pushover and the second she came out of it she was fit to be tied (or at least duct taped). So that was exactly what I had to do. After she kicked me in the nuts (twice), bruised my shins (both of them), and gave me a shiner that took three weeks to heal I finally managed to get her arms pinned to her sides and duct taped down where she couldn’t do anything but kick and bite. A knee and two shots to the chest (she was trying for the throat) later I finally rolled her onto her belly and hogtied her legs. Barb narrated the whole thing like she was explaining to the kiddies what happens at a sexual rodeo. Minus the pain it WAS entertaining.

Barbara needed no prompting to ride her bulldogged sister.

I had already prepped Barb for her sisters arrival and subsequent addition to “the show” at some point. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong. I didn’t actually tell her to want her sister, just be open to anything the “sponsors or producers (moi)” might put in a script. Later I found out she had gone through my desk while cleaning the house and came across one of my scenario’s for “The Barbarasaurus Show” containing sisters and playtime. She was probably half Barbarasaurus when she went to pick her sister up. (Note fix trigger phrase to be less sensitive). Barbs probably thought her sister was a guest for tonight’s show. Shit. Probably... Probably should have locked the damned desk.

But right at this moment the real problem was a deranged, mad as hell, hogtied, quite unreasonable sister in law screaming (until I duct her mouth) about calling the cops, having me committed, cutting my balls off, and so on. And a string of VERY creative possibilities once she got going. Apparently the tape had only momentarily disoriented Bitchzilla and she was ready to eat me, Tokyo, and any male who thought he could have his way with her. I swear to god I thought I could smell testosterone in the air! My whole plan was suddenly and frighteningly in motion and in doubt. I seriously doubted we could cut her loose and let bygones be bygones now she knew what I had done to Barb and though not instituted directly by me had tried to do to her. “If I don’t cut em off myself when I get loose then your gonna be Bubba’s bitch in the state pen for the next fifteen or twenty! Help poli...ummhmnmm. I was freaked. And she wasn’t going down easy. Barb handed me more of the silver fabric tape while extolling its many versatile uses around the bedroom and home. I was just thankful it was so useful right then and there.

My original plan had been so much more cautious; well thought through, gradual. (Basically) Safe. If she started to catch on, or it didn’t work so well on someone who didn’t want to “play” then back off, make up some cover story, pack her off on the train back to hell. But no..Barb had spilled the beans and performed for her sister who was no dummy (at least not yet) and who caught on very disturbingly quickly.

So how did it all turn out?

Vestal Virgin Spread: Made with 100% Pure Greasepaint

(or Can You Smell Her... Greasepaint Moan)

“When...uhhhh uhhh uhh You said ohhhh uhhh uhhh

that your... oh fuck ohhh uhhh uhhh sister... baby

in... uhhh ohh uhhh ohhhhhhh shit law... (gasp)

was a fucking clown... uhhh make me cream baby you weren’t... (pant) (gasp) kidding....” Beep beep honk!

I could only laugh. My best friend Mike was soaked from exertion and wrung out like an old dish rag.

Sister Honkers (the shiny dim witted silver robo-clown nun. A.k.a. “Bitchzilla” reformed./ revised? Fixed like a cat that insists on marking its territory? A. B. C. All of the above.) had performed her whole act on/uh for a carefully selected and very appreciative (if exhausted) audience member. In literal terms she had wrung the sexual life out of him! (Not that her batteries were anywhere near exhausted). She (Sister Honkers) climbed off a depleted and totally dazed Mike with a well timed (and rehearsed ) very funny slurpy sound that sounded like she was pulling three feet of him out of her, (with just the tiniest assist from a sound effects box I had attached to a giant prop filled sex-tool belt around her waist, of course). She finished with the “Suck him back inside her cunt vacuum gag” and “the Velcro Tongue” (two of her best bits) and bounced away offstage to a “BoinG BoinG BoinG” sound that still cracked me up every time I heard it. Rehearsing her scene over and over till she got it right had certainly paid off.

I admired my work for a moment, then did the only thing I could under the circumstances... cut to camera two, and turned up the laugh track. Barb didn’t miss a beat either. “Is widdle Mikey all tuckered oowt? You don’t wook soooo good. Maybe we should have Sister Honkers cuuuummmm (yummy sound) back and administer C P R. (Dramatic kiddie show pause) And what does that stand for boys and girls? (Longer pause and BIG smile). That’s right! Cunt to Penis Resuscitation! Hey... do you think he’ll need the ... p-a-d-d-l-e-s to bring him around?” Mike struggled to get to his feet, get out of the shot, maybe even insist he was ok. But after a moment Mike did the only thing he could under the circumstances... flopped onto his back gasping and mumbling something, mostly incoherent (the boom microphones on the set were too high to get most of it, damn it!), about coming back next week if it killed him, and passed out. Barb’s response was perfect (she didn’t miss a beat). “Can you say h-y-p-e-r-ventiwaiting kiddies? Oh, I see we’re just about out of time for today, so while I teach Mister Mike about mouf to mouf WITH TONGUES why doesn’t evwybody in the audience today sing our widdle goodbye till next week song?” Cue music... and out. Another perfect show. I flipped the switch which cut the live internet feed to the paying throngs.

“Did I do good?” Barb’s enthused? “Good enough to get my pwize?” I nodded my apwooval (sic approval). Sigh. It was contagious. Barb bounced up and down, her slippery greasy purple boobs no longer contained by the 90% see through costume from the last scene. “The usual pwize?” she chirped unconstrained now in many ways. “Yes I sighed. You get to fuck your producer.” Barbara was wrapped around my zipper before I could get another word out like my dick was a powerful magnet and her lips were steel. I just stood there for a moment wondering if I should have left the cameras rolling for some private footage or better... the blooper reel, but the thought passed when Mister Twouser Twout got some (to the base of the mysterious hairy forest) almost cannibalistic CPR of his own.

Sometimes standing there I wondered if I were to lean over my shoulder if I might not someday (soon) see her head sticking out my ass because she’d just kept going. Some of the things she could do as “Barbarasaurus” were just amazing, bordering on humanly impossible. She was practically a cartoon character! Hmmm... maybe a super fuzzy hero (Not that I was in any way capable of complaining) No one had a mouth that could... uhhh uhhh ohhh damn! “It’s good to be the producer, there really IS no place like home!” (except maybe the studio), Lights! Camera! Action!” And best of all... “Can we have another take”, and “Now give me the money shot!”

And on a more personal note: Guest shots and cameo’s have gotten...surprise surprise... quite popular with my friends, neighbors, passers by, etc.... It’s gotten so completely out of hand that sometimes we even have guest “shots” (cameo’s mostly) from some of the top porno stars on the web. (It REALLY is good to be the producer!)

With that (and little else) in mind (Have you ever tried to type with a pair of luscious purple lips wrapped around Mister Twouser twout?): " The Barbarasaurus Show”(Inc.) would like to announce that resume’s are now being taken for our first Seasonal Holiday Special.

All inquiries and resumes can be sent to: