Subliminals - A Fantasy

The use of subliminals in erotic mind control fiction must rank alongside that of mythical, wondrous Hypnotic Aphrodisiac Gas and sex attractant pheromones in terms of the mystical properties ascribed to them, as compared to the mundane, somewhat more miserable actuality.

In a work of erotic mind control fiction, the protagonist discovers the wonders of subliminals, particularly their use in audio recordings to alter people's moods. Creating a mixtape or CD with essentially the same tracks used in the target office's regular CD, only blended with an inaudible subliminal track designed either to arouse sexual desire and suppress inhibitions, or promote trances and suggestibility among the targeted workforce.

As readers of this blog, I'll assume you have some familiarity with this fantasy. Stop me if you haven't heard this before.

The fantasy begins with the scene - a busy, happy office, or maybe a hospital. Hospitals and hotels are good for this, because they both have lots of beds.

The office happens to contain a lot of pretty women (for the girls, the building happens to house a lot of hot men too), but nobody seems to be interested in anything more than work. Whatever that work is.

Then the infiltrator arrives. He takes a briefcase with him to the room where they house the machines that play the incidental music that is piped throughout every room of the office, from the freight garage round the back to the elevators, right into the toilet cubicles in the unisex toilets.

In previous years, the music came on cassettes - nowadays they come on CDs or, for the most advanced and Cyberpunk of you, as sublim signals directly hardwired into MP3 files uploaded wirelessly from a smartphone directly into the system. The infiltrator then makes his way off the premises while the music plays. And in this fantasy the subliminals have a profound effect far greater than the actuality.

The effect takes about an hour to settle in and manifest. Things start happening about lunchtime, as a gentle bass jazzy track plays, a light, grooving track that gets people thinking things. Hot things. One of the secretaries, Maria, decides it's too hot, and slips off her jacket, shucking off her shoes and sitting cross legged, her short skirt riding high to expose her bare legs. The typing pool girls are giggling - they just can't seem to stop talking about sex. The talk about sex is getting them seriously turned on. Simon the photocopy boy, overhearing their conversations, is seriously getting turned on too as the music turns a bit more upbeat and a little driving and aggressive, something bouncy, and half the workforce feel like getting up and dancing, thrusting their hips, but restrain their urges, limiting them to just tapping their feet under their desks.

By the close of lunchtime, as the music has shifted to the first track featuring nothing but percussion polyrhythms, something grooving with marimbas and shakers, the dress code has considerably relaxed. Most of the men are wandering around with no ties and their shirts open to the waist. Fortunately in this fantasy they all hit the gym, have fantastic bodies and regularly wax themselves. And fortunately for this fantasy, the workforce has just the right mix of gay and straight people to keep everybody in the audience happy.

The women, too, are loosening their clothing beyond what is considered the norm for proper business practice. Maria, who slipped off her jacket before lunch has also removed her blouse, and she is sitting on the edge of her desk, legs crossed, wearing only stockings, short skirt and a bra. And she's not alone. The office staff are going commando in style, sneaking off to the bogs to remove their panties and bras, coming back and leaving their underwear on their desks. They're still wearing their work clothes, at least for now [Recommended: Cut and Run].

In an hour, the effects of the sublims are even more pronounced; the track has changed to something more erotic, heavy on the tumba and conga, with cowbells and marimbas, slow and overtly sexual. Maria has removed her bra and gone topless, and is now wearing only her skirt and stockings in front of the whole office. Other office workers, male and female, are responding in kind rather than with outrage, stripping off their work clothes. On cue, with the change of a track to a new piece of music, something that is really pounding the libidos, all heavy, driving polyrhythms with tumbas and congas, all of the clothes come off and the work place just became really interesting, with lots of bare flesh on display, in obvious sexual arousal [Recommended: Whimsy Groove].

The music, too, has changed from the usual program, and nobody can remember when or how it changed. It's something driving, now, aggressive, sexual, not even pretending to be office music any more. The tune comes back to one of the earlier tracks that made them want to dance last time - this time, they know what to do and everyone gets up to dance. And as the tempo speeds up towards the end of the track people are virtually on top of each other, bodies dancing so close that they are practically touching, and certainly close enough to touch; but they are not touching, because something in the music is keeping them from actually doing the deed, no matter how great the desire [Recommended: Tafi Maradi No Voice].

They're all dancing away to the music that's playing and nobody notices the infiltrator come in because as he enters the piece, the music track's changed again and the secretary and Simon the photocopy guy, naked, are dancing slowly in the centre of a circle of other naked workers, slowly clapping as Simon goes down slowly on Maria [Recommended: Slow Heat].

Then the tune shifts yet again, and the circle breaks up as everybody gets into it, dancing naked in twos and threes, pairing off and lying down to couple on the floor or pressed up against rocking file cabinets or against the wall, heaving and gasping naked couples in a mad orgy of flesh. Two women, Maria and one of the women from the typing pool who couldn't stop talking about sex, approach the infiltrator dancing, reaching out for him ... [Recommended: Untitled African Rhythm]

Well, I see you haven't stopped me. Maybe you never heard this one before. Or maybe it never got told to you so musically ... :)

Originally, this story came with links to tracks available on Kevin McLeod's Incompetech site. The links were broken, but the tracks are still there, and I've now posted links to download those tracks from the site to play on your MP3. If these links also evaporate, let me know ASAP.

Now put on the music that turns you on and have it playing in the background while reading this story. It'll have the same effect, believe me. ;)