The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

CHAPTER ONE

Applied Knowledge

Forcing the girls to play a basketball game in the nude was a terrific idea.

In my freshman year, I laughed when they called it “classical conditioning”. The first image that came to my mind was people being forced to like the opera, or something like that. “Conditioning them to the classics”.

But the whole idea of “reward and punishment”, the strategy of the carrot and the stick, has an elegant simplicity to it, and running exercises with lab rats, guinea pigs, and even goldfish was easy. There was nothing here that circus performers didn’t do while training their animals. Getting them to run through mazes and jump through hoops was so easy it was boring. But the exercises did have one curious property that I brought up with my professor, who, too my surprise, blew it off as irrelevant. The conditioning consisted of giving them food if they did what we wanted, or an electrical shock if they didn’t. This worked, but there was a delay between the time the conditioning was exercised and the time the creature began exhibiting the desired behavior. This property could be called “friction”, since the creature offered resistance back at the forces trying to motivate it, the same as a rusty bearing on a wheel. Whether by instinct as with the goldfish, or act of will as with the lab rats, the creature did not want to do what I wanted it to do, and would resist the imposition of my will. This could lead to as much as a three day delay with the rats before they began exhibiting the desired behavior. I knew that with the monkeys, who had a cerebral cortex, the “friction” would be even greater, and the “efficiency of the conditioning” would drop off sharply. In fact, I came to the conclusion that at the level of chimps and gorillas, the conditioning might not work at all, and the animal would successfully resist my will.

The inefficiency was in what I called “the directness” of the conditioning. Food or electrical shocks first had to pass through the filter of the animal’s senses—smell, sight, touch, taste, hearing—and that made the conditioning obvious. The animal, even the goldfish, could recognize the forces that motivated it as “outside forces” that were separate and apart from it’s being. In other words, the conditioning was being done by manipulating parts of perception that the animal was conscious of, even if that consciousness was pure instinct.

There was another form of conditioning. Surgical experiments done with lab rats and monkeys had attached electrodes directly to the pleasure centers of the brain. The rats and monkeys were given a button to press—if that button was pressed, the electrodes stimulated the pleasure centers. The results were dramatic. The rats and monkeys devoted their whole being to pressing the buttons, and eventually starved to death. By bypassing the senses and directly stimulating the brain, the conditioning process was turned from a conscious one into an unconscious one. Resistance dropped to zero. You could now condition an animal in the blink of an eye.

The drawback was the invasiveness of the surgery. You had to literally cut the animal’s head open to get to the pleasure centers, always located deep in the brain, in the mammals in a structure known as the limbic ring. The tissue destruction involved led to a pretty poor animal-slave, little more than a mental retard that just pressed buttons. Something other than radical surgery would have to be used if “unconscious conditioning”—classical conditioning done without any suspicion from the subject that such a thing was being done—could become a reality. I had to come up with a way of stimulating them, borrowing a phrase from advertising, “below the threshold of consciousness”. And with some gold wires, a micro-battery from a pacemaker, and a simple signal processor built from chips from discarded computers, it was easy.

The first device I made was for a very simple creature, a mud puppy. A common amphibian in Michigan waters, it was actually more primitive than a frog. It’s brain had no higher functions—the only emotions it was capable of feeling were anger and fear, typical of life on that rung of the evolutionary ladder. Such sensory cortex as it had was routed mainly through it’s organs of smell and taste. But it was capable of feeling pleasure and pain. If I could manipulate a critter that dated pretty much from the Cambrian period, I knew that it would be even easier with mammals, who had their pleasure and pain functions routed into the higher brain functions of the limbic ring. And by a subtle use of very low level electrical currents, placed in propinquity to the olfactory nerves, I soon got results.

It was just getting to be spring then. I took a break and looked out the third floor window of the science building and watched the students enjoying some of the first warm days. In particular, I noticed three girls—all friends or acquaintances of mine—sitting under a tree going over books. Cathi Metzger, lanky, with very thick dark hair and exotic good looks, olive skin and very slim and small breasted. Her sister, Judi Metzger, surprisingly different—blonde, plump, with very fair, pink skin that she had to protect from burning even in the weak sun of March. And Cynthia Houtz, her long brown hair well below her waist, thick glasses over eyes so blue they were almost purple, also plump and fair skinned. I had dated her for awhile, and knew that while her body was voluptuous and gorgeous, she was actually very shy, and was especially afraid of being naked in front of other girls, so much so that she had avoided gym classes in high school. Typical American body-image anxiety, and it was partly as a result of dealing with her insecurities that I had stopped going out with her.

An idea occurred to me. Could I get them to do whatever I wanted them to do, without them even knowing it? IN FACT—could “unconscious classical conditioning” be done enmasse, to a CROWD—a higher, sociological construct, much more complicated than an individual? Could you get a crowd to do what you wanted them to do?

As I started to work, I had to smile, for I really had no great interest in basketball.

CHAPTER TWO

First Draft Picks

I knew right away where to implant the device. Much more so with girls than guys, thick bands of sensory nerves run through the earlobes. If you were patient, and the girl was sensitive enough, you could bring a woman to orgasm simply by stroking her earlobes. The nerves completely bypassed the conscious centers of the brain—stroking a girl’s (or guys) earlobes was an excellent way to encourage them to shut off their higher brain functions. This was why women wear earrings in EVERY culture, primitive or civilized, regardless of race—it’s a subtle sexual advertisement. By implanting the antenna, chip and “tickle” electrodes in her earrings, I should, in a matter of hours if not minutes, be able to direct her behavior without her ever knowing that such a thing was happening. I already knew that with any one individual, it would be easy. What I didn’t know was if it could be done with a whole crowd, since the group dynamic of watching other people engaged in unwilling behavior might trip the conscious brain into asking the question I didn’t want it to ask—“What the hell am I doing”?

In this context, my idea—forcing 12 women of different backgrounds and personalities to play a naked basketball game in front of a crowd of leering boys—was an intriguing exercise. The complexities were enormous, but if it could be done, it would be a real accomplishment.

My subjects were all friends or acquaintances of mine. This allowed me to compare previous behavior with new behavior, something I couldn’t have done with strangers. I divided the team on the color of their sneakers, since that was all I would allow them to wear. I finished the list later that night.

BLUE SNEAKERS

FORWARD—Ellen Arndorfer, 5′0″, 95 lbs, a star with the college gymnastics team, with the figure of a twelve-year-old. At seventeen, the youngest. In spite of her small size, I had her play forward, for she was an excellent athlete. A cute little blonde, but her personality could only be described as “weird”—she was uncommunicative and introverted, and as far as I knew, had exactly one friend. I had gone to high school with her, and had helped coach her on some routines, but couldn’t say I knew her well. Her responses would be interesting.

FORWARD—Vicki Anderson, 5′7″, age twenty-two, shy. She had been engaged to a friend of mine, and was upset it hadn’t worked out. A strawberry blonde, the closest thing to a redhead in the group. She had a pretty face, nice tits, and perfect skin—BUT—a VERY fat ass. Her ass was wider than my shoulders, and I’m a big guy. I knew she was sensitive about that, which was a shame, because the boys didn’t mind at all. I knew that her ass would make an easy target for what I had planned.

CENTER—Another Cynthia, Cynthia Andrews, twenty-one years old—I had gotten to know her in a theology class I took. Strikingly pretty, hair so blonde it was almost white, and an incredible 6′7″ tall! Very skinny, small breasted, skinny ass. Definitely playing center. She came from a strict Pentecostalist family. Her conditioning to resist sexual display added a unique dynamic to the experiment.

GUARD—Jodi Babler, 5′9″, 155 lbs, twenty years old. Fairly nice body, dirty-blonde hair. Unlike the other girls, who were fairly popular, nobody liked Jodi. She could best be described as an asshole. I knew her from a music class I’d been in, for she was a good singer, but that was the only redeeming feature she had. She never had a good word for anybody, and such friends as she had were subject to constant verbal abuse, and what I can only describe as “leeching” behavior—she was always hitting them for money, or favors, or borrowing things and keeping them. From a farm family, she had the manners of a pig—I could see her living in a trailer park. To top it off, she was one of those morally arrogant types who was constantly correcting other people’s behavior or accusing them of doing something wrong. I hated her guts, and putting her on the losing team was sweet revenge.

GUARD—Judi Metzger, 5′6″, nineteen years old, Cathi’s younger sister, which was how I knew her. There was a reason I was putting sisters on opposing teams.

RESERVE—Cynthia Houtz 5′9″, nineteen years old, described above. I’d make sure she got some playing time in.

RED SNEAKERS

FORWARD—Nikki Zoerb—5′ 11″, eighteen years old, short brown hair, 210 lbs. of solid muscle. Nikki was a good student, and while big was also very attractive. She was also the only out-and-out slut on the team. Like most boys, I had met her at a party when she hit on me. I spiked her earrings, but in the end, she needed very little conditioning—the idea of sexually performing for the boys was something she relished, and thanks to the shitty way other girls had treated her all her life, she would enjoy sexually abusing and humiliating the girls on the losing team.

FORWARD—Cathi Metzger, 5′8″, twenty-two years old, another friend all the way from high school, otherwise described above.

CENTER—Kim Flowers, 5′1″, short brown hair, 130 lbs.—at twenty-five, the oldest in my group. She had a spectacular body—she could have posed for Penthouse. Friendly, funny, gregarious and aggressive, she had made a good living in sales before coming back to college, where I met her in a business class. One of the most popular people on campus, everybody liked her, and would enjoy seeing her on the floor.

GUARD—Erika Coons, twenty years old, a Korean girl, adopted by her white parents. I had known her from grade school. She was nice, but incredibly shy, hard to get two words out of her. She was tiny (4′11″), so she would play guard. She had confided to me often, and I knew that her shyness was such that she had never even been kissed, though she was very interested in boys. The “innocence” of such a subject would make a good control comparison to other subjects.

GUARD—Debbie Binder, 5′10″, 135 lbs, twenty-two years old, a musician and singer, very long brown hair and very lush figure. I had met her doing a student musical. Debbie had a boyfriend back in her home town who, along with her family, treated her very badly—after some thought, I put her on the winning team, figuring her anger could be redirected towards the losers.

RESERVE—Susan Delaney, 5′9″, 115 lbs, eighteen years old, again with long brown hair (I made a note to supply the girls with barrettes), slim figure, tiny tits but a spectacular, perfect ass. A preppy sorority girl, hung out with a really snooty crowd, I knew her through the orchestra, where I played violin. She was an incredible prude, constantly correcting other people’s behavior—I thought about putting her on the losing team, but she had an aggressive personality in her own way, so I put her on the winning team. I made sure she got to play at least 1 quarter.

I had chosen the winner of the game in advance. While the game would be close, the RED SNEAKERS would beat the BLUE SNEAKERS. The penalty for the losers—or conversely, the reward for the winners—would be clearly explained well in advance. The losers would be tied up in front of the crowd, and the winners would get to use them as sex toys. This provided a powerful motivation to win, since even for the bawdier girls this went against their instincts, and it would make a terrific experiment in mind control.

I needed confederates. Two guys to be “coaches” of the teams. Three guys to be referees. Three to be announcers and to run the scoreboard and equipment. And of course, a crowd of about five hundred boys from campus.

The coaches, referees, announcers and equipment operators all came from different places —none of them were students at school, and were completely unknown to anybody there. The big crowd of boys was easily assembled by posting notices at frat houses and word of mouth—the notice simply said BE AT THE GYM ON SUNDAY—THE GIRLS ARE PUTTING ON A “SHOW” FOR US. They duly showed up, with video and still cameras. Naturally, as I had hoped, some of them brought their girlfriends along.

CHAPTER 3

The Threshold of Consciousness

Spiking the earrings was the hardest part—I didn’t have access to their jewelry boxes, and you never knew which earrings they would wear on any given day. Ellen Arndorfer never wore earrings. The solution was, over a period of days, to hand them the earrings under some pretext, and have them try them on. Originally, the earrings only did two things. At one level of voltage and frequency, they stimulated the nerves to create a subtle, general feeling of uneasiness—the “pain”. At the other level, they created a subtle feeling of well-being that made the subject surprisingly receptive to suggestion, like a mild form of hypnosis—the “pleasure”. Once they were on, I hit the button from the transceiver I carried that stimulated the “pleasure” response—very subtle, well below the threshold of their consciousness. After only one jolt, two at the most, they simply never took the earrings off.

But that wouldn’t be enough. Once they started an activity that was against their inclinations, sooner or later, their conscious mind would kick in, and they would either stop or run. Two solutions presented themselves. First was the peer pressure of both the hooting crowd, encouraging them, and the fact that all the other girls around them would be participating in some pretty lewd stuff. The second was found by accident, while I was conditioning Debbie to her earrings. The first transceiver I had made, adapted from a cell phone, had some glitches in it, but I didn’t think that would be a problem, since during the game, I would be up in the news booth, manipulating things on a big computer with special software and a better transmitter. But as I was conditioning Debbie to her earrings, the signal strength, which I controlled with the volume, went way too high, almost two thousand times the voltage I had wanted (luckily, they were micro-voltages). I was worried she may have been hurt, or had caught on, but when I looked up, she was standing slack-jawed and somewhat glassy-eyed in front of me.

“Debbie”? I said.

“Yeah?” She replied.

“You o.k.?” I asked.

“Yeah” She replied again. But she was still slack-jawed, and her body had an odd relaxation to it.

It hit me what had happened. The current had passed from earring to earring through her head, resulting in a mild form of electro-shock therapy.

“Debbie?” I said, lowering my voice tone.

“Yeah?” Apparently, this effect didn’t add to vocabulary.

“Take off your shirt and bra”. I phrased it as a command, in a deep, low

tone.

“Why”?

“Because you’re supposed to.”

“..k”.

Hmmm. There was some infantile regression happening too. And so she stripped to the waist. Something I had never appreciated before was what terrific tits Debbie had.

I made her masturbate in front of me. Her orgasms were explosive.

Then I had her get dressed, and told her to take a little nap.

At school the next morning, she had a pretty good memory of what she had done in front of me, and blushed and tried to go away when I approached her. A jolt in the “pain” mode stopped her. I told her we had had fun, and could have this fun all the time, if she liked. By stimulating the “pleasure” response, I immediately got her acquiescence. In fact, after that, she began making every effort to hang out with me.

So one by one, I conditioned and “electro-shocked” the girls. Again, to work around their conscious will, I added three more elements. The first element was something I had learned in my military studies class, a concept called MICE. This was an acronym; the letters stood for MONEY, IDEOLOGY, COMPROMISE and EGO—the CIA guide to “turning” people into your agents . The money was the small admission we charged for the game; the ideology was the charity and other good works we told the girls it would be going to (and, to be sure, that’s where it went). The compromise would be during the game, when, if trouble appeared, we would tell the girls they had “agreed” to play a game for us, and the ego would come in as the game was played—nobody likes to be on the losing team.

The second element was the announcer, an old drinking buddy name Biff. By using the announcing system in a low, authoritative voice, further coercion could be given on the girls. They have a phrase for this in radio—The Voice Of God. The anonymous voice of Biff, coming from the heavens, would be a powerful motivating force.

The third element was Nikki—who was practically a nymphomaniac. She was the only one who was told that she would be playing a basketball game in the nude for the boys. With the proper jolts, I easily turned her into a confederate within the female ranks, ready to act as a corporal to keep the others in line.

With some final adjustments to the transceiver device, I was ready.