The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Training

They quickly developed a routine. The whole team had four days of physical training, two days of English and American studies, and one day off. Strangely, Aiko only had three days of physical training and two days of English and American studies, with two days off.

It was tempting to use her extra day off for more physical training, but her days off were far more structured than that of her teammates. The first day off she had gone shopping with Master Woodward to shop for groceries for the team. Ostensibly, she was helping him shop because she knew better what she and her teammates were likely to eat, but he overrode a lot of her choices and seemed to be showing her how he wanted her to shop rather than relying on her to make the best decisions for her and her friends.

The second day she had off with all of her teammates and Coach Woodward threw a pool party for her and all of her friends to officially welcome them to his home. They had pizza rather than traditional Japanese fare, but pizza was popular in Japan too and none of them complained.

That was almost a week ago, however. Now, her next solo day off, Aiko found herself standing in front of a salon with instructions she could barely read written down on a piece of paper.

She saw what looked like the word “blonde” but wasn’t sure what was meant by “extensions,” “curls,” or several of the other words, but the trip was being paid for by Master Woodward and she wanted so much to show how grateful she and her team was. If that meant accepting a bit of a different sort of makeover, she would deal with it.

“Welcome to Nana’s,” a large, jovial, brunette woman said. Her hair was worn in carefully styled curls around her round, made-up face. She was lovely, if a bit on the thicker side, though Aiko reminded herself that Americans preferred to call them curves, and that it was common here.

“Konnichi- I mean… hello Nana-san. I mean- Mrs. Nana.” Aiko said, dipping into a formal bow for the other woman. She felt out of place, like a porcelain doll amidst barbies.

The woman wore a tight pink dress with shimmering sequins. The light glinted off in a radiant way that caught the eyes. Where Aiko was a whisper of a young woman, Nana seemed to shout out loud, visually speaking.

“Please, call me Anni.” The woman said, “or you can stick with Nana, all of my favorite customers call me Nana. But Mrs. is way too much, yeah?”

“Sorry, Nana-sa- I mean, Nana.”

Nana reached forward and plucked the parchment from Aiko’s hand. “Let’s see here. Oooooh.”

The curvy brunette seemed to dance over to the chair as she read the note.

“I like it! Come here, dear. Sit down.” She patted the chair invitingly.

Aiko wasn’t sure to make of the situation, so she simply followed the directions that were given to her. Before long she was gently dozing to the sound of the pop music playing over the speakers and Nana’s soft humming along.

Underneath the catchy tune and nonsense lyrics of the song, another lyric was singing straight to Aiko’s subconscious: Good girls learn to play, good girls love to obey. Good girls make an easy lay, you want to be a good girl today!

If there was anything to be said for the salon, it was relaxing. Nana’s fingers were gently massaging her scalp as her hair was wettened and soaped. The chair was comfortable, unlike the stadium chairs and benches she was used to sitting in at Meets and other Competitions. It was easy for her to relax, and thus it was easier for her unconscious mind to open up and absorb what was being whispered in a voice she couldn’t actually hear.

Thinking of the Meets and Competitions and stirred something in her.

Aiko and her teammates were here to get better, to learn, to be the best gymnasts they could be. Yet she wasn’t training nearly as hard as they were, and Master Woodward’s- no, just Master. Master’s coaching, while good, wasn’t really teaching them anything new.

“Oh my, so much thinking.” Nana said, pausing her humming. “If you’re not careful, those frown lines will stick there forever.”

Nana tittered a little at her own joke, then went back to humming. As Nana began to wash her hair, Aiko imagined the soap penetrating her scalp and washing her brain, Americanizing it as well. With Aiko’s hair soaked and lathered, her hands moved to Aiko’s shoulders and began gently rubbing. That felt good too. Her muscles were almost always sore from the constant practice and training. She’d received massages before, but it was always done in such a clinical, detached way. Everything that was done was done for the team.

This… this was being done for her. Be a good girl today! Yes, Aiko could be good- would be good.

Even with the chemicals in the shampoo, Aiko couldn’t help but be wary of Master. There was something about Him that unnerved her. Yet, she was grateful to him in that moment. She was proud that he was rewarding her for being a good girl.

Eventually Nana’s grip released her. Aiko tried to follow the woman with her eyes, but got a simple tsk and returned to her previous position. She was left to her thoughts again, but she found it difficult to concentrate.

Why dwell on what she had been doing, should be doing, when she could simply feel good and obey. If there was one thing she and her teammates had been doing since they arrived here, it was obedience. It was in their nature to obey. Others might have resisted, the outcasts and rebels. But one couldn’t be part of a team if they were willful and individual. Being part of a team required order, and order required obedience.

It was clear the Master required her to relax, he wanted her to enjoy herself. So she did.

Aiko let herself go and allowed herself to simply enjoy the process. It took hours, much longer than she had ever spent on herself before. It was honestly incredible, but when Nana stood herself in front of a mirror, Aiko at her transformation.

It was strange enough to have her nails painted a vibrant, hot pink, with the thumb nail on her right hand and the pinky on her left-hand sporting cute little hearts. At first, Nana had tried to convince her to put on acrylics, but she needed to keep her nails short and trim for her gymnastics and she’d threatened to get up and walk out if the curvy American woman tried.

A slight act of defiance, but it had been worth it to save her nails. And, Aiko thought, glancing at her fingernails while Nana had moved to her feet, they are cute.

Nana had put on makeup too: eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, foundation, even blush. Aiko knew the basics, a certain level of presentation was still required for her performances, but she hadn’t ever attended to herself with the same level as Nana.

At some point, the song had changed, and while the new song was equally peppy and upbeat, there were new whisperings into her mind: Pretty girls must look good, pretty girls look how they should. Pretty girls and Hollywood, pretty girls do all they could.

When Aiko looked in the mirror, however, she nearly fainted.

Her chin-length black hair bob was gone, replaced by long blonde hair which graced her shoulders and fell to her back. It wasn’t possible to grow hair so quickly, but when she tugged at the new hair, she could feel the difference. It wasn’t her natural hair at all.

“Those would be the extensions, dearie.” Nana said to her in a bright, cheery voice. “But not those cheap, clip-on ones. Ugh, that’s so, like, 90s. Mr. Woodward paid for you to have top-of-the-line extensions and a perfect blonde top to go with them. Aren’t they just so cute?”

Aiko had to admit, the blonde hair did look pretty, and it went well with her blue eyes. Not many Japanese girls had blue eyes like she did, but they looked perfectly lovely even with her black hair. She’d never even once considered dying her hair blonde.

“I- …I…” Aiko couldn’t find the words.

Mistaking her speechlessness, Nana plowed on, “you love it? I know! I wish I could pull off blonde as well as you, but, well, I’ll live and die a brunette.”

Aiko reached up to touch her cheek. Her skin had always been lovely and fair, but she had a faint smattering of freckles and splotchiness that, while imperfect, hadn’t marred her appearance, at least not in her eyes. Now, however, her face was unblemished like a doll’s. It almost seemed to glow, and the light hint of blush on her cheeks helped give life to her face so that it didn’t look quite so artificial and fake.

Her blue eyes were lined in black, with wing shaping to give just a subtle emphasis to the slant of her eyes. Her monolids allowed for a more artful presentation of her eyeshadow. In this instance, Nana had gone for a dark blue which transitioned to a lighter gradient and was dotted with white dots mimicking the stars of the night’s sky.

She was… beautiful. But Aiko looked more like an American’s Asian Trophy Wife rather than a gymnast. Her lips were soft and pink and the blonde hair which flowed down to her back in artful waves from the slight perm treatment it was given.

Her simple jeans and t-shirt were almost ill-suited to her now. They were the most comfortable outfit she had, but Master had scoffed a little when he saw her, asking if she was really going to go out in ‘that.’

At that time, it was a throwaway comment, but he knew what treatment he was ordering, he knew what look she would have when he picked her up.

She was his doll. His good girl. His pretty girl.

A New Regimen

Not long after her makeover, there were changes to the schedule.

The first change she discovered, however, was to her wardrobe. The clothes that she and her teammates had brought had been discarded, replaced by the Master. There were no more casual outfits. However, while the rest of the team had more American-themed leotards, hers were far more outlandish consisting of racier leotards that showed more back, more side, and had a large part of the abdomen removed so that their flat, toned stomachs were laid bare. Ostensibly it was because she was the star of the team and should stand out, but a little voice in her head told her she looked pretty and pretty girls wanted to look good.

They had nightgowns and teddies for bedtime, and loose miniskirts and peasant’s blouses for around the house. Like the training outfits, things were more modest for the younger girls, but got racier for her and Misa, with Aiko’s outfits being far and above the most revealing. There were a large assortment of outfits for going out: miniskirts, pleated skirts, tube tops and dresses, crop-tops, and all manner of showy, gaudy, clothes.

But it was the new schedule that Aiko found most distressing.

Her own training days had been reduced to two physical, two days of social training, two regimented days off, and an all new day: date night day. The other girls had been reduced to three days physical training, two days social training, with two days off. However, the extra day off was reserved for the same thing that Aiko’s new day off consisted of: appearance training.

The team’s little cozy upstairs living room was often pulsing to the sounds of American pop too, with the same insidious, unconscious whispers mixed in to the beat. It played while they put on their makeup and styled their hair. Aiko noticed that the girls sitting at a computer for their English “lessons” always seemed to be a tad more zoned out than the rest.

The occasional trip to the salon was a luxury, but Aiko and her team were expected to be presentable at all times by the Master. This was a new and very stressful order. Previously, appearance only truly mattered if they were preparing for a tournament, or in the rare instance one of them got to go out on a date with a cute boy (or girl, Aiko didn’t judge!) But now they needed to be presentable for practice, presentable for social training, and presentable even on their days off.

Which is how Aiko found herself surrounded by her team, putting on makeup and checking every last bit of her appearance. The little black dress was cute and flirty, but it needed something: accessories. So Aiko opened a drawer to reveal a small jewelry box. Inside was a silver necklace with a heart-shaped sapphire resting at the throat.

Jewelry was new for her, but Aiko knew the Master would be disappointed if she didn’t wear it. There were also some pink and blue bracelets, plastic, but if they were there, she knew he expected it of her. She wasn’t able to recreate Nana’s Starry Night design, but she had managed to perfect the blue gradient with her eyeshadow. She looked herself up and down in the mirror and knew she was ready.