The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Thwack!

“Damn! Right again? Why are my iron shots tailing so much?” questioned the 25 year old Justin Lacey.

The long, lanky semi-pro golfer was at it again. Another afternoon spent at the driving range, tuning his swing, which was still very broken. He looked back at the video feed of his last 5 swings, then of 5 good swings from a week ago. It was obvious what he had to fix.

He lined up again, cleared his head and got into his stance. Some beads of sweat dripped to the astro turf below his feet. The ball resting on a rubber tee, he brought his club back, and made a mental note to keep his left arm straight, his left leg straight, twist the torso, rip the hands down and follow through.

Thwack!

The ball flew off towards the flags scattered around the site, and he gripped the rubber ended shaft with his shaking and aching hands. Somehow he still had the strength to try and put a dent in the mold from clenching it desperately.

“I swear if the next shot isn’t dead center, I’m firing my current trainer. Maybe a new set of clubs, too. I wish I could afford either.” Another ball, another angry hack.

Thwack!

“Yep, that’s it. I give up today, and maybe even this week,” Justin reasoned to himself. Two hours at the range wasted, and yet another large bucket of non-used balls, by him at least, to the stand.

The girls at the front desk were used to this at times, but not from Justin. “Bad rounds today?” asked Tyra, the chocolate toned girl with dark brown braids.

“The slice has been full force the last few weeks, but it started about a month ago. It’s just all boiling over now, I can’t stand to hit any more. Well, maybe a punching bag, but no more golf balls,” he joked as he set the 6 pound bucket on the counter.

He was right about one thing. It wasn’t the first time this month that he consistently had bad sessions. Every day, as usual, he shows up at the range after work and gets his shots in. Some days he can’t spend as much time, but he gets his hour at least once a day. His new coach had tried to continue from what he was already doing, but obviously wasn’t living up to his standard.

She chuckled before answering with an observant question, “Wasn’t it a month ago when you said you got a new coach because the previous one was too expensive?”

Justin blinked and thought about it, “That is a decent coincidence. I definitely wasn’t struggling this much with Becky.”

He no longer could afford what his previous coach asked, and it was upsetting because Becky O’Brien witnessed a lot of his peaks and valleys as a player. She saw him shoot seven strokes over par for three rounds in a row, but she also was there for several important happy milestones.

She had moved on to bigger plans and couldn’t keep the lesson premiums at the same price. It was an unfortunate turn of events for Justin.

After a little self examination, he concluded, “I may have to look into that, I appreciate your insight, Tyra.”

Justin wasn’t one to give up. Golf defined him. Watching the tours on television with his father was a ritual on Thursday through Sunday. The two were inseparable from the game, and Lacey Sr. was not just an avid player, but one of the best coaches during his developing years.

It’s been 6 years since he passed, and Junior had been putting on quite the show for his Pop. The amateur excelled as a high school senior, earning a scholarship to the University of Texas to be on their squad.

As a 3rd year there, he helped his school to a championship alongside those that dwarfed his talents. The 22 year old Justin was overlooked despite his high level of consistency. He may not have had the flair of the others who certainly deserved to be given tour cards to the big events, but he could hold his own easily in the lower tier.

Well, maybe a few years ago. Today he certainly wouldn’t have beaten the 16 year old version of himself. His thoughts droned on and on about how he used to be something, about how he could’ve been successful years ago. Why did he have to run out of funds to support his dreams?

“At least I have enough money for a membership to the range and a trainer. I’ll talk to her tomorrow during my session, we need to fix my swing.”

This last week had been the most brutal, he figuratively had limped to the finish line with a club as a makeshift cane. “One day,” his thoughts continued, “I’ll be back to my former stride, I’ll be back to at least entering smaller tournaments, getting my name heard. Maybe cash out a few times and risk a big tournament. Yeah, one day. Soon. I hope.”

It was a slightly colder day at the range the next day, but that would never stop Justin. In his head, a day that others would stop is another day he could spend getting ahead.

Carole Dolan sat at every angle she could think of for Justin’s first bucket of the day, but only made a single adjustment to his club face position as he worked through his wedges.

The middle aged, married woman wore a blonde ponytail, tan pants and a bright polo shirt featuring a local country club’s logo that ended just above her belly button. The slim Carole may not have had busty assets, but her frame was tight and firm.

“Junior, I don’t see anything wrong with your swing,” she said pretty confidently.

Obviously that couldn’t be true, how was everything ending up slicing? “Carole, if it’s not my swing, then what is it? My footing?” an upset Justin replied.

“I really don’t know what it is. Have you tried hitting draws? I know you are just trying to hit straight right now, but I just want to see it.” she challenged.

“Draw? I mean, yeah okay. Let’s do that,” thought Justin. That seemed to calm him, it got him thinking about something other than a slice. He could hit draw shots all day.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

3 in a row, perfect height, controlled cut, landing in the planned area before the flag stick, and it even had some backspin to stick on a green that would be there in an actual course.

“You always had a pretty looking draw, Junior,” complimented Carole. “Now try half of that.”

“I see what she is doing, trying to get me to think about a draw and not a slice. Those all felt very normal and correct. Come to think of it, so do the slices. It feels very similar,” Justin surmised.

“Hey, Carole. My slice swings are oddly similar to those I just hit in the vibe I get. When I do hit a slice, it doesn’t necessarily feel like a shank like it used to,” explained Justin.

“Are your hands okay? Are your clubs okay? I know you take good care, if not great care, of both,” Carole said.

“Yeah, nothing wrong there either. It’s just strange, y’know?” he paused and dropped his head after a sigh. “I swear I look at the film of my swing and it just bothers me that I can’t figure it out.”

She placed an assuring hand on his shoulder as she tried rejuvenating his energy, “That’s what I am here for, now let’s fire off some more, alright? We still have almost an hour to get to the problem.”

A quick uptick in his demeanor resulted in a jerky answer. “Right, let’s get to it,” he stated.

Sure enough, a few more shots still proved that if he tried to draw, it would in fact draw. He also tried some shots with a planned fade, and those were just as good as his hooks.

“How is this more frustrating?” wondered Justin.

“Focus, Junior. It’s time. Cut those swings in half. You can do it. You have a straight shot ready to go. You are due,” assured his coach.

Thwack!

Justin closed his eyes, the ball once again heavily curved to the right. “I have the yips, it’s official,” he complained. “My career is over.”

Carole’s jaw couldn’t help but drop. It was staggering how fluent his swing was, how lined up it was. She had to make sure for herself that the balls weren’t rigged. On a different tee with a different club, she smacked a few herself. To her dismay, they were nearly 90 degrees perpendicular to the horizon line.

“No, it isn’t, but your answer isn’t the balls or clubs.” She slid the club back in the bag before resuming. “Or your swing, or your stance, or…” Carole rattled on until being cut off.

“Okay I get it,” interrupted Justin. “It really stings because this comes at a time when I need a coach the most. I may not be able to afford this much longer, especially if I don’t get a raise.”

“Junior, we can always go to a once a month type of thing,” Carole offered. “Plus, you told me you barely need me anyway, and that you have several friends you trust to check your swing, I am sure that you can get out of your funk even without a real coach.”

“Carole you don’t have to be so positive around me, I’ve heard it all. Go ahead, impale me with your truth sword, I’m ready,” Justin demanded.

The long silky hair draped behind Carole’s head swayed gentle as she shook her head. “Wow, you really are the hard nose Becky warned me about, okay. If it is the yips, then you can do three things. You can rework your form and find a different stroke, you can just ignore it and pray you hit a straight one again, or you need to approach golf differently.

“When we started last month you were always calm, even after a shank. You knew it was just the game, that it could have happened for any minor reason out of your control. Now? You are quicker to disgust. You hit 3 draw shots any pro would mouth water over, and 3 more fades that provided the same glamour. Don’t think about the bad, you want to appreciate the good.

“You aren’t listening to me are you?” Carole realized at the end of her spiel.

“What?” Justin startled then mumbled. “No, I’m sorry. It’s just so nerve racking. I see my swing in my head, and all I can picture is the ball sailing way off into the endless forests of my daydream.”

Carole smirked, “I’m sure it is. It’s easy to imagine following the golf balls into the darkness, isn’t it?” The bright blonde hair hadn’t stopped dancing, flowing back and forth in the breeze.

“Yeah, it sucks to lose balls out of bounds. Especially when I can’t afford new ones and have to search for them for a half hour,” reflected Justin, who nodded along. “You don’t even know the half of it.“

“Oh come on, of course I do. I’ve played longer than you, I know the dark areas of the forests can be very thick, and a pain to search through,” insisted Carole. Her voice was usually higher pitched and jumpy than it was now. “You never know what could be hiding around the corner of a bush. So thick, so slow to get through. What’s the longest you’ve searched for a ball for? I know sometimes I can search for hours and still come up empty.”

Justin’s eyes were drawn to the steady swing of the hair, and he quickly added, “It’s especially hard when sometimes you find a group of five other golf balls left from someone else.”

“Not the ones in your daydreams though, I think you will find that when you do find one in the abyss of your mind it’s a ball you sliced. It’s a shot that you hit that faded away into the deep darkness that is your mind,” hummed Carole, whose smirk grew wider.

“This talk about finding golf balls I shanked in the woods is making me a little drowsy. I must need some sleep,” inferred Justin. He let out a small yawn and stretched a little bit before stepping back into a bench. The charming woman in front of him held his full attention now.

“No more words? Are all of them down with you as you continue to search for the lost balls in the overgrown, treacherous jungle? You may find it’s hard to think about anything other than finding the balls,” suggested Carole. “Where did they go? You definitely hit them in that direction.“

“I don’t know, but I really need to find them. There’s so many in… wait,” Justin wavered. “I didn’t lose any balls, we are at the driving range. What’s happening?”

A chuckle fills the air as Carole snickered, “Are you getting lost with the balls in the forest? Or are you figuring out that the balls getting lost in your head are actually your thoughts?”

“Lost, with the thoughts in the thick forest of my head? What the heck is she talking about?” he asked himself. So many things should have signaled to Justin that this wasn’t supposed to be happening, but it all contributed equally to his confusion.

“That’s okay, you don’t need or want to answer. Of course you wouldn’t, it’s valuable time taken away from searching for your missing, fading, shots. Occasionally you imagine yourself hitting more thoughts into the forest. The deep… dark… expansive forest…“

“I… hit them so deep… they faded so far, and I need to find… or else I won’t be able to play…”

“You’re doing so good at trying to find your thoughts, but you will not find many of them. They have faded away far too much. It’s your fault of course, that nasty problem with your swing sends them flying away into the deepest parts of your mind, never to be seen or thought of again.”

At this point he was so lost in all the stimulating that Carole was supplying that he stared straight at the golden pendulum hair and didn’t look anywhere else. Laser focused on the object that transfixed him.

“That’s it Junior. No thoughts other than searching your mind. It’s so frustrating that you have to go deeper into trance, so that you can follow my words. You want to follow my words, because I know where your thoughts are. I can help you find them, so you can listen to me.”

Carole took a few steps toward Justin, who had a very annoyed look to his face. Of course it was because he was so upset since he couldn’t find any of the balls he hit.

“Carole can help me search for my thoughts… need to listen so she can tell me where they are.”

“You’ve hit so many thoughts into the forest today, it makes you so angry, and you just have to keep diving deeper into trance to find your balls. You may see one occasionally… maybe even five but it’s so hard to tell when it’s all dark and you are moving so slow.“

“So… angry… deeper to find thoughts… five… thoughts so slow…”

She sat next to him on the bench. No longer needing an eye fixated on her, she could do the rest just by guiding his thoughts down into rest.

“You have searched for so long now and are getting quite tired, to think that all of this was happening on hole four, your favorite hole to search on…“

“Searched… so long… tired… search on hole… four…” Justin’s eyes fluttered as he sank into the bench. The toned coach assisted him to a soft resting spot, making sure her soothing words could be heard clearly.

“So deep and tired now, instead of being peeved that you shot so many thoughts away, you are happy that you can be so relaxed. You don’t have to search anymore on the par three hole because you are content with leaving the thinking to me, and just letting all of the bad shots go. Letting all of your thoughts fade away.“

“Happy… relaxed… no more searching… too tired… three… leave thinking to Carole… let bad thoughts… all thoughts fade…”

“Fading away nice and easy into the darkness. Nice and relaxed in my arms, safe to rest. I know someone who can fix your swing in two sessions. I can find your thoughts, and they can fix your swing, and all you need to do is sink… all you need to do is fade…“

“Fade… darkness… relaxed and safe in arms… two… I need to sink… I need to fade…”

“You have done so well, I know you have found a single thought. It’s a golf ball in your pocket. You forgot they were heavy, hard to hold, it takes so much energy to get it out of your pocket, but you want to have this final thought… this one thought. Would you like to know what it is?“

“Found thought… so heavy… so tired… one…” Justin lightly bobbed his neck up and down, it was the only movement he was capable of while being so tired.

“You finally pick the ball up, and your eyes see the fuzzy lettering. Slowly your vision adjusts to the darkness and reads,” Snap! “Sleep, Junior.“