The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jordan had been coming to this gym for last three weeks, almost as long as she had been in her new apartment. In fact it was her move to this part of the city that had caused her to join this particular fitness centre, it was conveniently close to both her new job and her new home, almost directly between them. It didn’t hurt that it was also relatively cheap with high class facilities, she often wondered how they made a profit.

Actually she wondered about a lot of things, that was just her nature. As her friends would tease her, she was always trying to figure out what was going on behind the scenes, from trying to guess a person’s profession to working out which meal was best value at the fast food restaurant. She also had a bad habit of going through people’s mail or even trash to get a better handle on them. Beyond her unquenchable curiosity, however, she was honest and kind and that saved many a friendship when she had been caught snooping.

It didn’t help with keeping a boyfriend though. She was tall, nearly six foot, and only a touch on the slim side, but with her soft disposition and inquisitiveness it was a real turn-off for most of them. They expected her to be more assertive, or to at least not embarrass them in public by peering over people’s shoulders to see what they were reading. So single for most of her adult life, Jordan didn’t bother much with make-up or feminine clothes and only her relatively long hair detracted from her tomboyish image.

Now she had a new mystery. Actually she had two, she decided as she paused on her way across the lobby. First, how did the gym survive financially, and second—why were there three members entrances. To the left of the reception desk there were doors clearly marked ‘Male’ and ‘Female’ yet to the right there was a short hallway ending in another door, this one simply saying ‘Members’.

Jordan, being Jordan, had to solve this mystery before she could even think about beginning her work out. Going over to the reception desk she instinctively slouched so that she wasn’t towering over the pretty red-haired girl behind the counter.

“Excuse me, Anita,” Jordan said, reading the girl’s name-tag, “But that door through there, is it a member’s lounge or ...?” She let her question trail of. From years of practice Jordan had learnt the best way to get people to volunteer information was to make a guess and let them correct it.

“No,” Anita replied with a nervous fidget. “Its the other members area ... for the other type of members that is ...” The girl squirmed noticeably now, acutely aware that the woman before her was not going to let that go by. “I mean we have two types of members, um, sort of A’s and B’s.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this when I signed up?” Jordan demanded, all thoughts of her work-out gone now that she had a mystery.

“It’s a restricted membership, the other one I mean,” Anita said, her fingers tapping her desk nervously.

“What. Male only?”

“Oh no!” Anita relaxed visibly answering that question. She knew the centre could get into all sorts of trouble if it was accused of being sexist. She was even more relieved when her phone rang and Jordan left with a brief ‘thank you’ rather than wait around. The receptionist thought the matter was over but Jordan had only just begun.

By the end of the next two weeks Jordan had spent a lot of time at the centre but had done very little exercise. In fact she spent more time in or near the reception area than in the gym. From this she had learnt the following. Anita worked the desk on week days between noon and six pm, a pretty if somewhat scatty brunette called Tracy did from 6 to midnight and a rather muscular blonde did the mornings and weekends.

Then there was the matter of who the special members were. Despite Anita’s denials, Jordan had expected it to be some exclusive men-only club, but that quickly went out the window. Everyone who went through that door was very definitely female, and of a wide variety of races so it wasn’t segregated by colour. They were all around Jordan’s age too, so she really couldn’t see why she was being excluded.

Further observation and Jordan noted that the special members didn’t have a card or anything else that identified them, they just casually walked past the reception, down the corridor and through the door that was occupying Jordan’s mind. So Jordan figured she could do the same, and being Jordan the plan was no sooner conceived than acted upon. Arriving late that evening to avoid Anita’s shift, she casually strolled past the reception and was half way down the short corridor when she heard sudden movement from the reception desk and a distinct ‘clunk’ noise from the door. Jordan tried to press on anyway but the door was locked and a moment later Tracy called to attract her attention.

“I’m sorry miss, that area is for members only.”

Jordan turned and retraced her steps while trying to keep her face impassive. “But I am a member,” she tried, convincing herself that since this wasn’t a lie that she could put it past the receptionist.

“That area’s reserved for a different membership,” Tracy volunteered with a friendly smile.

“Sorry about that then,” Jordan said with a forced laugh, “I’m still new here.” Inwardly she was seething with frustration, how could the receptionist instantly tell that she wasn’t a special member when she doubted the girl could remember what day of the week it was.

“That’s okay,” Tracy was almost bubbly now, “You should use the door over there with the stick figure of a woman in a skirt on it.”

“Thanks,” Jordan said through gritted teeth and followed the directions to avoid arousing any more suspicions. She needed to plan further, to pay more attention to who and what the special members were, to see if they made some sort of gesture or had some other form of identification such as a badge.

Day 22 by Jordan’s newly created war journal and she felt she was becoming quite adept at disguising herself so that the staff wouldn’t notice it was her hanging around the lobby all the time. Even so she was running out of excuses, such as she was just waiting for a friend to finish her work out, or that she liked the paintings in the reception area.

She had built up a profile. All the special members were female, from a variety of racial backgrounds. All of them were between twenty and thirty five years old. Some of them would say hello to the receptionist as they went past, but the majority just walked straight down the corridor with no discernible gestures. They didn’t have a card or a key or any uniform badges on their clothes. Jordan wondered briefly if they wore a special colour but there really wasn’t any commonality to their clothes other than a predominance of being overtly feminine. That didn’t take her too far, some wore suits with short skirts, others wore jeans and sweaters, or shorts and t-shirts.

They were all, Jordan had to admit, exceptionally pretty—and had she been a man she would have noticed another common feature much sooner—all of them wore high heels and walked with a grace that implied years of practice. So having nothing better to go with, Jordan formulated her next plan.

It took a bit of work of course, in the first place she had to buy herself a pair of suitable heels and then practice walking in them. It proved much harder than she imagined but even sore toes didn’t weaken her desire to get beyond the door. Then she had to doll herself up to the appropriate level and found her own limited skills inadequate so a trip to the beauty parlour was called for. And finally new clothes, a short, tight leather mini to show off her legs, a sleeveless tank top since she felt she had good shoulders, and as an afterthought, a bit of padding to increase her bust. Checking herself out one last time in the mirror she was quite startled by how beautiful she looked, if just a bit tartish.

Butterflies in her stomach, concentrating fiercely to maintain her delicate balance in her three inch heels, still blushing from a lewd comment on the street corner, Jordan strode in to the lobby of the fitness centre and past Tracy at reception. It seemed like an eternity, her ears cocked for the sound of the door locking, for the cry to stop from the receptionist, but neither happened. The door opened easily and Jordan was through.