Presented here, you will find some musings from me, an evil mind controller who is obviously bored and/or has too much free time on his hands, on how the brainwashing of subjects is handled in stories and artwork. More rumination on the topic may follow in subsequent posts, if folks enjoy these and my aforementioned boredom/free time doesn't abate.

Flash Wash
A flash wash is instant mind control. It often involves the subject getting zapped by a hypno-ray or some such. But whatever the induction method, there is no lead in, build-up, or waiting for the subject to go under. One second, she has free will. The next second, she is a mindless thrall. It is direct and to the point. Per my specific tastes, it works well in single illustrations or short comic strips. In longer stories, I prefer a more drawn out induction (and/or lead up to the induction, as per impending wash below) and slower brainwashing process.

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No one could argue that Nikki looked amazing in her string bikini, as she reclined on the lounger by the pool. Nikki herself wouldn't argue it, and would actually tout that fact to anyone who asked, or who even didn't want to know.

Sienna longingly watched Nikki from the shadowed cover of the women's locker room doorway. Behind her, all the showers and stalls were empty. Thus she remained discretely hidden from any potential observers. From her vantage point, she had a clear and unobstructed view of Nikki, which was exactly what she needed.

Holding up a small device that resembled a remote control--or, to her geeky eyes, a Star Trek hand phaser--Sienna checked its settings. Everything was in order. She had no doubt the device would work. The only problem was the all too visible beam it would produce upon her using it. That meant she had to use it now, while the proverbial coast was clear.

She aimed the device at Nikki's head and pressed the button. The florescent green, pencil thin beam lanced out with an audible zot! It struck Nikki in the temple and then dissipated.

Nikki blinked. Her eyes widened and lost focus. Her jaw went slack.

Sienna tucked the device into the pocket of her shorts. Then she walked hurriedly into the open, making a beeline for her quarry. No one at the pool reacted. Either they hadn't noticed the bright green ray, or they had paid it no mind. And they gave the fast-walking woman a similar lack of attention.

Upon reaching Nikki, Sienna paused to take a quick breath. Then, she spoke.

"Stand up, slave."

With no change of expression, Nikki swung her legs over the side of her lounger, planted her bare feet on the ground, and stood up. As if acting on their own, her arms rose up until they pointed straight out ahead of her.

"Follow me, slave."

Sienna began walking quickly back to the locker room. Nikki followed her in zombie-like fashion. In a moment, they reached the still-empty changing area.

She had done it! Sienna had enslaved the woman who for years had been her gorgeous but unobtainable crush. Nikkis's mind was hers to control. And Nikki's body was hers to enjoy....

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Impending Wash
An impending wash isn't so much a method of brainwashing, but a lead up to the deed. It's kind of the counterpoint to a flash wash, which instantly zaps the subject from a normal to a controlled state. With an impending wash, the subject must wait for what is to come. She might know what is about to befall her, perhaps having been told about, witnessed, or even previously undergone the process. Or, she might not know what she's in for, other than it is something very, very bad. In either case, she can't escape it, despite all manner of valiant struggles on her part.

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Other people considered Malea attractive. She considered herself strong. Though petite, she worked out regularly. Her regimen afforded her a lithe, toned figure, with a significant amount of lean muscle mass. If having that physique meant others saw her as sexy, great. But what she cared about was strength.

Unfortunately, none of that muscle power did her any good just now. She struggled uselessly--flexing, stretching, pushing, straining--against bonds that would not budge. The bonds secured her wrists to armrests and her ankles to a raised footrest, all of which were attached to a padded but still industrial looking recliner.

She had woken up in the chair about a minute ago, with no memory of how or when she'd been placed in it. All she knew was that her unseen captors had stripped her of her possessions, including phone, wallet, keys, watch, and even her shoes and socks. Now she sat, barefoot and helpless, unable to break free, and unknowing of what was happening to her or why.

The room she was in was small and spartan. Across from her, in a chair identical to her own, sat another woman. Like Malea, the other woman was quite good looking. She was also held in place by restraints, and her feet, too, were bare. An odd looking device akin to a salon hairdryer--and yet so very much not one--hung suspended on jointed arms just above her head.

By all appearances, the woman's bonds were unnecessary. She neither moved, nor responded when Malea called out to her. To Malea, it looked like she was drugged or hypnotized, or even possibly dead. No, not the latter--she did occasionally blink.

A glance up over her own head confirmed what Malea feared from observing the other woman: The same ominous not-hairdryer hung there. She couldn't discern what its purpose was, but she knew that she didn't want to find out. She also knew--or at least she had a strong feeling--that the other woman had already been subjected to the device, and that her catatonia was directly related to it. All the more reason for Malea to break free and get herself to safety.

She renewed her efforts to escape. But her very human strength--however impressive and dutifully earned--simply couldn't make a dent in the all too solid restraints.

Then, suddenly, the hum began.

Malea looked up and saw that the not-hairdryer was now lit from within. She could tell the hum originated from inside it, too. And it was slowly but surely descending.

Desperate now, Malea cried out as she jerked and twisted in her seat. Inch by tortuous inch, the device lowered. With no leverage and limited mobility, Malea could do nothing, though still she tried and tried. But the unyielding restraints held her fast and firm. The device lowered further, further, and still further. Until, finally, it eased into place over her scalp.

From a nearby control room, through hidden cameras, Malea's captors had watched her struggles. The futility of her efforts had amused them. Now, as she fought just as uselessly against the electro-hypnotic induction that was the first stage in her brainwashing, their enjoyment not only continued, but grew greater and greater as the insidious process went on....

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Next up, if I continue, will be discussion on and narrative examples of the following: fly in honey wash, dare wash, and the willing wash.