The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kira is astonished at the sheer intensity of the two weeks that follow.

She’s meticulously gone through every element of the personalization form. Diet, current exercise regimes, personal goals at a minute level of detail, the lot. She’s calibrated the device to what it termed her ‘baseline settings’ and its sensors have logged everything. Her profile homepage on the BodyClock site, and the app on her smartphone, now shows a series of tiny bar charts, about thirty separate measurements. Each bar has three elements: a baseline (where she was now), a goal (computed by the app for ideal gymnastic performance) and a progress bar towards that goal.

She gives a few minutes thought to creating her BodyClock persona. Everyone needs a pseudonym, the site says, for privacy. She’s familiar enough with this type of social network protocol: don’t ask, don’t tell. The first two names she tries are already taken. Kira scans the membership list. Everyone has names like superheroes: Speed Demon, Blonde Lightning, Neverstop, UltimateGrace, Force_Of_Nature, and so on. She thinks of Mel and her effortless natural ability, the almost supernatural way she grasps and execute even the most difficult routines. She thinks again of the pet name her mom and dad used to have for Kira, watching her tumble and bounce across the school mat. Well, she’s not so little now, but the aspiration stands.

Miss Magic, she types, and hits return.

As soon as she’s generated her profile, she’s surprised to see a little message pop up: ‘you have new followers’. Clicking on it, she sees that five people from the BodyClock community have decided to watch her progress. One follower has even sent a message of support: Welcome to the community! Good luck, Miss Magic! Rooting for you already! And a little smiley face.

She examines the various displays, and sees that her ‘advisory report’ is available. This contains all the detailed recommendations to move the various needles on her measurements; a dietary programme, exercises for cardio, flexibility, stamina, everything she can think of. The list is daunting. But all she has to do, it seems, is press ‘activate’ and the system will prompt her as needed.

She has no idea how she will fit it all into her schedule.

But fit it in she does. Diet is the first thing to address, and it is a radical overhaul. She’s always been used to eating whatever she wanted, relying on her metabolism to sort things out in the background. Not any more. Having done the analysis somewhere in the cloud, BodyClock is extremely prescriptive about this.

Due to the duration and intensity of practice, she will require between 2,280 to 2,460 calories per day. Half of this needs to come from carbohydrates. For main meals, she needs complex carbohydrate foods such as whole wheat bread and pasta, high-fiber cereals, fat-free dairy, fruit and vegetables. She may snack on nutritious, energy-rich foods such as bananas, yogurt, fruit, low-fat cheese and crackers. A honey sandwich before and after practice will enhance her performance and replenish muscle stores.

She needs protein for building new muscles and tissues, to repair and strengthen muscles, and for optimal hormone and enzyme production. BodyClock has calculated her necessary protein intake as 46.37 grams per meal. This must come from lean cuts of meat, poultry, fish, eggs, beans, lentils or tofu. She may not eat anything fried, and fatty meats are banned too.

Surprisingly, she learns some fats are essential for building body cells and nerves, insulating and protecting organs and aiding the absorption of vitamins. This means healthy unsaturated fats; fish, olive oil, canola oil, nuts. Trans fats from fried food and processed snacks are firmly on the banned list.

She requires no less than 1,300 milligrams of calcium and 15 micrograms of vitamin D for bone health, essential to enhance gymnastic performance and resist fractures. Her allocation of dairy foods will also deliver other essential nutrients such as phosphorus and vitamins A, B and D. She needs exactly 15 milligrams of iron for optimal health and performance.

She may drink a prescribed quantity of pure water, pure fruit juices and sports drinks, according to BodyClock, but coffee, tea, sodas, and alcohol are a complete no-no.

Kira counts herself lucky she has never smoked.

For that first two weeks, she is a woman on a mission. She follows the regimen exactly as prompted, and within a few days she sees some of the indicators on her profile begin to creep up. Kira feels healthier, and she is sure is she already beginning to glow with it, even more so than usual. She feels better, in some way she can’t quite put her finger on.

Each upward movement brings new messages from her followers.

Way to go, Miss Magic!

Well done. Keep it up. You’ll get there.

Have you tried the nutrimax supplement? Do, it totally clocks. It really worked for me.

She does her best to reply to all of them, but after a few days the numbers are swelling, and she has so little time. She does her best to avoid getting thumbs down; the community values responsiveness.

Hey! You didn’t reply yet. Don’t be a stranger!

There is so little time because there is suddenly so much to do. BodyClock has prescribed a whole series of exercises, to be done in certain exact sequences at certain exact times of the day, and the list is long. She has learned a few instructive things about the device, not least that it is very persistent indeed, in her own best interests of course.

Her two hour morning exercise routine needs to start at 5.30am each day. The BodyClock wakes her with a soft and insistent vibration at her wrist, growing stronger and more annoying until she responds. It doesn’t shut off until she stands up and starts exercising. The pre-breakfast routine is demanding at first, covering the waterfront of training for strength, power, balance, coordination, agility and general conditioning. BodyClock focuses particularly on core conditioning exercises: leg lifts, crunches, handstands, along with muscle-builders like pushups, pull-ups and squats. It doesn’t forget the other muscles, either—it even prescribes Kegels every day.

If she pauses for a moment, or doesn’t do the right number, or just flakes out for a second, the watch vibrates and beeps at her, and messages flash on its tiny screen: Warning! Below optimal rate of progress! Every time, Kira is stung by these words and redoubles her efforts.

But afterwards, and after showering, she is pleased to see tangible improvements on the dials of her profile. Her timeline shows daily activity, and she sees the BodyClock has assessed her rate of progress so far against its benchmarks, drawn from its thousands of other users, and has rated her…

Above Average.

She is deflated. She wonders what this means. Room for improvement, she guesses.

Kira sees something she hadn’t noticed before, or which perhaps wasn’t available until she started the regimen: her followers—almost a hundred, now—are rating her too. She has 40% thumbs up, 30% hand-waggles, and 30% thumbs down. Thumbs down? What? After all this effort so far?

She scrolls the messages from her followers. Amidst all the usual plaudits and platitudes of encouragement, her eyes are drawn to the thumbs downs. Perhaps it’s in her nature, she thinks, to seek out the negative, to be driven by the craving for praise.

Come on, girl. You’re not trying hard enough here.

Mmm. Bit disappointing, Miss Magic. You really should be further along by now...

“Above average?” What, really? Are you happy with that? I wouldn’t be.

Not very ‘magic’ today, are we! Wink.

Again, she is stung. Above average is not good enough by far. She must do better, and the next day she goes at it with renewed vigor, and the next day harder still. She makes time for a few comments for other users, and their responses are ever more encouraging, egging her on. Gradually her doubters are converted.

Better. Much better Hot stuff!

Keep it up, little Miss M.

There’s a sort of leaderboard set up on the BodyClock home page, and she joins it. There are over twenty thousand people, all ranked by the system according to its own internal algorithms, ranging from Excellent at the top to Beginner at the bottom. At number one is a BodyClocker named AlphaWoman. Kira smiles at that; it was one of the names she’d tried to choose for herself. A newbie, she sees Miss Magic appear somewhere in the twenty thousand and somethings and feels the thrill of a new challenge. Competition is the very air she breathes.

Over time, all too slowly, her name begins to creep up the board.

Her practice scores are improving, too, in tiny but heartening increments, a fact which Coach Jeffries is careful to note when he tells her she can stay on the varsity team so long as she keeps the good work up. Even Mel begins to notice, and congratulates her on her improvement. Kira just shrugs and tells her it’s nice of her to say so, but she knows she has a long way to go yet, and frankly the one thing she wants more than anything on earth right now is a cheeseburger.

Amidst all the study, the classes, the workouts, the diet, the exercises, the practices, her days are a whirlwind, and she is looking forward to Saturday night. She has hardly seen Jack except in passing. The evening is warm and the campus trees are turning into a riot of red and yellow. Everybody is meeting at the Blue Badger around eight o’clock for a few drinks, and then there is a house party to go to.

Kira walks the few blocks to the bar, luxuriating in the invigorating litheness of her step. She can feel her muscle tone has improved; indeed, she is sure of it from the BodyClock metrics, and she knows she has lost a little fat too. Kira feels leaner, fitter, better already. If this is what two weeks can do, she thinks, how will she feel in a month, two months? The excitement of the thought swirls in her belly.

She waves at a few people as she enters the bar, shouting ‘hi’s above the hubbub, and kisses Jack on the cheek. He eyes her up and down and he puts his arm around her fondly. “Long time no see! Looking good, miss sexy. All that exercise must be doing you good. What’ll you have?” he says. “A Bud?”

She laughs at the compliment, and nods. Yes. A Saturday night treat. What harm can it do? Jack signals to the bartender for one more.

She takes the cold bottle and takes a long swig of beer. God that feels good, she thinks, mellowing out at once. She deserves a little R&R after the last two weeks, she thinks. And Jack has been so good about her schedule. She hopes he doesn’t feel neglected; she’s sure he understands how important all this is to her. Kira sits down on a bar stool and takes another long pull on the bottle, already thinking of having a second beer.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Suddenly the BodyClock is screaming shrilly at her, screen flashing, vibrating like mad on her wrist. Kira starts and leaps up from her seat, spilling the drink all over her dress. She clutches at the wrist device in panic, trying desperately for a way to shut it off. It’s nearly as loud as a car alarm, and on the flashing screen she sees the words: Alert! Alert! Prohibited substances detected!

She fiddles desperately with the strap, but she can’t seem to get it off her wrist. Everyone in the bar is looking at her now. Mel’s face is a picture of surprise. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, Kira turns and runs out of the bar and into the street, and she doesn’t stop running until the alarm finally dies down. Looking around her, she’s surprised to find she’s run half a mile, just now—at pace—and she’s not even out of breath. Amidst the embarrassment she feels a small surge of pride at that.

She looks at the screen on her wrist. Avoid alcohol at all times, it says. No shit, thinks Kira. But worse, her followers are popping up all over the BodyClock app with a barrage of thumbs down and messages of concern.

Are you drinking? What’s wrong? Are you OK?

Are you depressed? Self-medication isn’t the answer...

Miss Magic, we are concerned. Is there anything you’d like to share with the community? We can help.

Feel for you, honey. Tried the BodyClock forum for recovering addicts…? Here’s the link…

One of her followers, MegaHealth, is particularly vocal about this: Just say no, Miss Magic. Say NO!! It’s POISON!!!!

She sighs, and pings a generic reply: just a stupid accident, that’s all! and a reassuring smiley face for good measure. She pockets her smartphone again. She feels ashamed. She’s let them down, if only just for a moment. Determined to ignore the messages for a while, she trots back to the bar and orders a mineral water with a slice of lemon. Dimly, she registers Jack is talking animatedly to Mel, and she feels the familiar spasm of irrational jealousy. But no, Jack is all hers. He’s told her as much. She sips her mineral water and goes to rejoin the group.

But later, at the house party, she feels like a Martian at a wedding reception. Kira realizes she’s never been to a university party where she wasn’t at least a little bit drunk. Now, stone cold sober, she looks around at the laughing, drinking, shouting, dancing crowd and feels a frisson of—what?—disgust? Kira has never felt so fit and healthy in her life, and what a difference it makes. She chats and smiles with her friends, as always, but some part of her feels separate from these people.

Jack reels up to her, grinning, his shirt disheveled. His face is flushed. Drunk, she sees. Kira knows he will be expecting sex later, and she had promised, but she’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, right now.

But later, with Jack pushing hard inside her, she’s glad of the release. He feels bigger, somehow—or maybe it’s that her own muscles are that little bit tighter, now, she thinks. She feels vibrant, more awake, more aroused, more alive than ever. Her skin tingles with energy. Kira comes quickly, easily, and then for a second time, her legs wrapped around Jack’s waist as tightly as she can manage, clutching his back as she cries out.

Lost in her climax, she ignores the soft and insistent vibration of the device at her wrist.