The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

BREEP! BREEP! BREEP!

The alarm clock rang insistently, and an arm sprang out from underneath the covers, turning it off with a quick, sharp tap. Heather stretched out and pulled the covers away from her.

Another Monday, she thought excitedly. The regionals are just a couple of weeks away.

She slowly stood up from bed, yawned, and stretched again. Her hair was all messed up, but it was still early. As long as her brother wasn’t hogging the shower, she could give it a quick wash.

Before anything else, though…she walked towards the full-length mirror that stood next to her dresser.

She looked at herself in the mirror for a second. I’ve got a serious case of bedhead, Heather thought.

Heather had worn one of her brother’s old hand-me-down shirts to bed, like she usually did. This one was a washed-out blue color and had a picture of Mr. Spock from Star Trek doing the eyebrow thing and holding up that Vulcan peace sign (?), with ‘Live Long and Prosper’ in bold font below. She was also wearing a pair of P.E. shorts that had seen better days, with a rip in one of the sides.

I look pretty ridiculous, Heather reflected. She stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror, and then began her daily routine.

Every morning, she did five minutes of stretches to warm her muscles up. It wasn’t as crazy as what Mom did (she had a 15-minute yoga routine), but Heather could feel that it kept her limber and energized her in the morning. She remembered trying to introduce the routine to Tim last year, hoping it might be something the two of them could share, but he’d just said he wasn’t athletic and walked away. I guess I did kind of word my offer poorly, she admitted to herself. Probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say “This could be the first step to helping you get rid of your gut!”

She started with an upper back stretch, interlocking her fingers and reaching forward, bending from her middle back. As she stretched with her hands forward at shoulder level, she felt herself stretching from between her shoulder blades. She looked at the mirror to make sure she had the proper form.

She followed with a neck stretch, moving her left ear towards her left shoulder while putting her left hand on top of her head to help. After holding the position for a few seconds, she repeated it in the opposite direction.

After that, she did several shoulder stretches, cradling one arm with the other to help deepen her stretches. Then she did side stretches with her hands clasped above her head, and some standing quad stretches, grabbing her left foot with her left hand and stretching it towards her thigh, and then did the same with her right foot.

To conclude her routine, Heather did a few calf and hamstring stretches, being careful not to give herself a charley horse. It had happened a few times and it was embarrassing to hop around in the morning with Tim staring at her. To his (very small) credit, he never laughed at her, but it embarrassed her all the same.

She checked the clock on her nightstand. Five minutes on the dot. She walked out to the hallway to take a shower, and noticed that the door to Tim’s room was ajar, the lights off. Was he already up? This was the second day—last Friday he’d also left before she’d even woken up. Huh, what’s he doing at school from so early in the morning? Heather wondered.

Heather knocked on the bathroom door to make sure he wasn’t still there. Silence. She went in and stepped onto a puddle of water. Ugh. He hadn’t bothered to dry off well before getting out of the shower. As usual.

Twenty minutes later, Heather walked downstairs, the pleated skirt of her uniform bouncing with every step. When she got to the kitchen, she saw a folded-up newspaper and half-drunk cup of coffee on one corner of the table. Dad had already left. Mom was standing by the kitchen window drinking her own cup of coffee. She smiled when she saw Heather, and put some rye bread in the toaster for her.

“Good morning, young lady,” she said. “Can I tempt you with some coffee?”

Heather made a face and instead grabbed an empty glass and opened up the fridge. She filled up the glass with water and grabbed a grapefruit from the fruit bowl Mom kept next to the sink.

“Dad and Tim already left, right?” she inquired idly as she sat down at the kitchen table and started peeling the grapefruit by hand.

“Hmm, yes, your father had to get to the office and Tim mentioned he had something to do before his morning homeroom,” Mom said absentmindedly as she sipped her coffee.

Maybe he’s actually knuckling down on his studies for once, Heather mused. That reminds me, I need to ask him for those notes on that math homework Mr. Humbert assigned, if he still has them.

“Your hot yoga got cancelled, right? What you’d do and Tim do over the weekend?” Heather asked as she took a bite of the grapefruit.

“Oh, ah, we just…I mean, we didn’t really…,” Mom looked strangely flustered as she spoke. “We didn’t really do much, we just—“

Ding! The rye bread popped out of the toaster. Mom went to the fridge and got the Country Crock plant butter and buttered Heather’s toast, put it on a plate, and passed it to her.

“You’d better finish your breakfast, or you’re going to be late.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Heather said, chewing on a piece of grapefruit.

That was…weird.

As Heather walked to school, she read a Track & Field News profile on Allyson Felix, her favorite sprinter. Felix had been such an incredible runner that Adidas had signed a contract with her straight out of high school, and had paid for her college tuition, to boot.

Sometimes, when Heather was daydreaming, she’d picture herself signing a contract with a big sportswear company, and having them fork over the tuition fees for a four-year college. Other times, she imagined herself being scouted by UPenn or Stanford, and having them offer her a full ride if she joined their track team.

Of course, her parents were always pestering her not to count on sports scholarships and to make sure she kept her grades up. But unlike her friend Jenny Li, who had a 4.0 GPA, Heather’s was sitting at a rather underwhelming 3.2. Which is why she was desperate to at least raise her math grade, if Tim would just lend her his old notes and assignments.

As she started to angst and fret over her grades, she found herself unable to focus on the Allyson Felix article. Sighing, she stuck it back in her backpack.

And then, before she knew it, she was at the school gate. She saw Jenny and Tricia sitting and chatting on a bench at the far end of the front lawn, and ran towards them.

“Heather!” Tricia shouted as she neared them. “We were just talking about you!”

Tricia was an overenthusiastic redhead who loved anime, K-pop, and gossip. Tricia’s friends often joked that she could live on just air, pictures of Jungkook from BTS (who she was absolutely obsessed with) and gossip. Tricia lived for gossip, thrived on it. And Heather had the sinking feeling that she was the object of this particular conversation just for that reason.

“We were just talking about your mystery man,” Jenny grinned.

If Tricia was their group’s gossip queen, Jenny didn’t fall far behind. Jenny Li’s parents didn’t really allow her to have a social life—track, piano, and tutoring took up most of her time, so Heather suspected she liked to live vicariously through what other people were doing.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Heather said firmly. “You guys are making a mountain out of a molehill, or whatever. He’s just someone I talk to once in a while, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Then answer me this—why’d you drop out of our conversation yesterday as soon as Jenny mentioned him? And why’s he in your contact list under the name ‘Sweetie’?”

Heather blushed fiercely. She’d mentioned to Jenny once—once—that she was chatting with a boy. How did they even know what she’d named him in her contacts?

“Before you ask, it’s because we’ve seen some of your message alerts come through,” Tricia grinned, as if reading her mind.

“W-well, to answer your questions—first, I didn’t answer the messages because I fell asleep and then my dad came home from his trip. And to answer your second question, it’s none of your business.”

“Ugh, just spiiiiill,” Tricia begged. “Is it someone at school? Maybe one of the guys from Central?”

“Why’re you keeping him to yourself?” Jenny asked, making sad eyes at her. “You’re not—ashamed of us, are you?”

“Oh my God, she totally is,” Tricia gasped. “We’ve…we’ve become the uncool friends!”

Jenny and Tricia embraced and pretended to cry on each other’s shoulders in typical melodramatic fashion.

“Quit it, you two,” Heather said. “It’s, like, neither of those things. I have my reasons.” Well, they’re not really my reasons, technically.

“What are they?” Jenny said, staring at her.

“Yeah, what are they?” Tricia did much the same.

“I-I can’t tell you that,” Heather replied, looking away. “But maybe soon. I dunno. I hope. Just give me some time, okay?”

“Yeah, right, time…” Tricia said. “Time…oh crap, what’s the time?”

Jenny looked at her watch. “We’re gonna be late to homeroom!”

Heather gasped, “Mr. Heldberg is gonna kill us!”

All talk of Heather’s mystery man was forgotten as the three girls used their track and field skills to run all the way to their morning homeroom.

It was almost lunchtime when she heard her phone vibrate through her bookbag. Heather surreptitiously peeked at it when Mr. Humbert was busy fiddling with the projector. He’d been trying to show a mathematics tutorial when the sound had cut off and had spent the last five minutes trying to fix it and asking, begging, any students who were tech-savvy to help him out (unsurprisingly, no one was particularly eager to assist).

It was a message.

‘Sweetie:

Want to meet under the bleachers for lunch?’

Heather smiled, put the phone underneath her desk, and furtively typed a response.

‘Yep. Just let me drop my books at my locker. Meet you there ten minutes after the bell rings?’

‘Sweetie:

Perfect. :D’

“Ah, it’s working again—what did I even do?” Mr. Humbert blurted out. Heather quickly put her phone back in her bag before it got confiscated.

As a grainy YouTube math video started playing, Heather looked up at the clock on the wall and began counting down the minutes.

After the bell rang, Heather dropped off her bookbag at the locker and then, making sure none of her friends were following her, headed out to the open area where the different sports fields were.

The outdoor bleachers Heather was walking to were the ones near at the softball field, near the construction area where the old woods were slowly being demolished. Heather felt a twinge of sadness whenever she saw the construction crews demolishing more of the old wooded area that had once lent the school’s scenery a touch of charm. As she moved in the direction of the field, she could see that dozens of trees had been felled during the weekend, and the forested area had greatly diminished. The school administration had assured parents and students that the construction work being done would greatly improve the infrastructure, but Heather suspected it would just end up getting turned into a parking lot or something equally ugly.

The area wasn’t a particularly popular hangout spot—there wasn’t really much to do there, and it got too hot during summer. The bleachers themselves were metal and students usually had to bring jackets or towels to sit on during the most searing summer months so they wouldn’t burn their backsides from sitting on hot metal benches. Most students preferred to hang out inside the buildings, where there was at least air conditioning. But it was the fact that it wasn’t that popular that made it perfect for Heather’s purpose.

Because the person she was meeting wanted to keep their meeting clandestine. Not for any particularly nefarious reasons, though. Mostly because he was a softie who cared about the effect his relationship with Heather would have on his best friend.

Heather was getting kind of tired of all this sneaking around, though, and she’d decided, as soon as she’d gotten his messages today, that she was going to tell him so.

As she reached the back of the bleachers, Heather lowered her head slightly so as not to bump it on the bottom of the metal benches and footrests above. The ground beneath her was dry and dusty, with grass growing in sparse patches that were hit by sunlight only occasionally.

Heather’s eyes adjusted to the shade and she saw a figure sitting on the ground. He’d arranged a little picnic blanket with a couple of bottles of V8 Splash and some whole-wheat turkey sandwiches on little plastic plates. When he saw her, he smiled, and stood up, accidentally hitting the top of his head on the bleachers.

Heather couldn’t help but laugh as she walked over to him and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said.

“Hey, Heather,” Eddie said with an embarrassed smile.

Heather and Eddie sat on their makeshift picnic blanket, quietly eating turkey sandwiches, their hands occasionally touching. Heather sat with her legs tucked under her, her skirt modestly covering her legs, while Eddie sat cross-legged, his plate on his lap.

Heather loved this, just being able to be near him. It felt so comfortable, like they were so in synch with each other that they didn’t really need to say anything to each other—they were just vibing.

She’d never imagined that she’d be dating one of her dorky brother’s dorky friends. Though Eddie wasn’t dorky, not really. He was tall, and had a kind, gentle face, with closely cropped dark blonde hair. She remembered seeing him hanging out with Tim back in junior high and not really giving him a second glance, because he was so unassuming.

Then, when she’d first joined track in ninth grade, she found out that he was already a member. He’d been a really good sprinter, too. When he ran the 200-meter dash, his form was so good that Heather had tried to imitate it, make it her own. And then when he took that bad fall jumping hurdles and broke his leg, she was horrified. After that, his mom forced him to quit track and she’d felt devastated.

She still remembered running into him near the lockers, hiding near the trash bins, crying, trying to put on a brave face when he saw her.

Still, she hadn’t been interested in him. Not then. It was awkward, him always hanging around with Tim, playing video games or those card games they liked so much.

Then, a few months ago, he’d added her, alongside a bunch of other track members, to a group chat, which had eventually split off into an individual chat between her and him.

Heather could tell he really missed running. But from what he’d told her, his mom had freaked out when she’d seen his injury (“I had a little bit of bone poking out from my leg— just a little bit of bone!—and she acted like I’d gotten my foot chopped off or something,” he joked). Instead, he was now in the library club alongside Tim and Yang, in charge of buying new books for the library, setting up magazine racks, and keeping track of library loans. What a waste of his talents.

He was so genuine about his feelings, so open about how amazing he thought track and field was…and he believed in Heather, thought she was a great runner. It made her feel good—her family almost never came to her competitions, so to get support from someone was awesome.

Okay, that wasn’t quite true. Tim actually showed up to a lot of her events, but then spent the entire competitions playing on his phone. And Heather had a suspicion he was there mostly to ogle at the female athletes.

“…so, what are you thinking about?” Eddie finally asked, as he bit into the last piece of his sandwich.

“Hmm, I was just thinking about how weird it is that we, y’know, connected,” Heather shrugged.

“It’s not that weird, though, is it?” Eddie smiled, intertwining her fingers with his as he held her hand.

“…yeah, I guess not,” she blushed.

Eddie looked at her, paused, frowned slightly.

“What is it? What’s with the look?” Heather asked quizzically.

“It’s just…have you thought about what I asked you before?”

Heather swore under her breath. This again. The cause for the only bit of discord in their otherwise happy new relationship.

“I’m, uh, I’m guessing that’s a no, huh?” Eddie queried.

“Oh, I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve thought about how stupid your idea is,” she said with a flash of annoyance. “Why can’t you just come by the house and pick me up for a date like we’re a normal couple? Why can’t I just go ahead and tell my friends about you? Why do we have to hide and sneak around like we’re doing something wrong? My parents already like you—they’ve known you for years!”

“Yeah, but…,” Eddie answered, obviously flustered. “You know that the problem isn’t your parents. I like your parents a lot too. It’s your brother.”

“I still don’t really buy into your theory that my brother would be upset,” Heather flatly stated. “I don’t think he’d much care—he’d probably be more upset if he lost his Level 99 save for Fortnite or something.”

“That’s not how Fortnite works,” Eddie rolled his eyes a bit. “But please, hear me out.”

“Again?” Heather sighed.

“Yes, again. Look, Yang, Tim, and I—the three of us, we’ve been pretty much dateless for years.”

“Tim’s been dateless his entire life, as far as I know—and now you want me to somehow fix it,” Heather retorted.

“Okay, let me finish. Yeah, what you just said is true. But Tim is…yeah, he’s a little awkward, but he’s always been a good friend to me. And if I suddenly came to his house and said ‘By the way, I’m dating your sister,’ he would feel terrible…you know, he’s never had a date and here I am, and it would be like I’m rubbing his face in it. Not just that I’m dating someone, but that I’m dating his sibling.”

“But why are his feelings your problem?” Heather asked, gripping his hand. “Why are they our problem? He’ll learn to deal with it. He’ll adjust.”

“But he’s my friend, and I want him to be okay with us—I don’t want there to be weirdness, or awkwardness,” Eddie explained.

“…Weird and awkward are kind of Tim’s thing,” Heather joked.

“Come on, don’t say that—you know, I still remember that one time at track and field your first year, do you remember?”

Heather blushed. She had forgotten, but now that Eddie mentioned it, the memory came back.

“You tripped and hurt your knee—it wasn’t a big injury, so no one was paying much attention to you, right? And I looked and saw, and you were sitting at the bench crying, trying to tough it out.”

Heather nodded.

“And I remember that Tim rushed over with Neosporin and a bandage. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, so I remember thinking to myself, ‘So that’s what a big brother is.’”

“Yeah, that’s—wait why did he even have Neosporin and a bandage? I remember asking myself why he would be carrying around something like that so randomly,” Heather

“Oh, that’s a funny story—when you joined track, I remember he called me and asked me what type of injuries were common in track and how to take care of them. Then he took me to Walgreen’s and asked me what the best types of treatments were for those types of injuries—I think he spent like forty bucks on a first aid kit. I was impressed.”

So, wait, does that mean…? Heather wondered if, every time Tim went to one of her track competitions, he was still carrying around that first aid kit.

Maybe he wasn’t just going to the competitions to ogle the athletes after all?

“That’s all beside the point,” Heather said. “I don’t understand why I’m supposed to play Miss Matchmaker and get him a date.”

“Because,” Eddie reasoned, “if he’s got a girlfriend, or even if he’s just been on one or two dates, it will make him feel like he’s not…y’know, a terminal loser. Imagine how bad he’ll feel knowing that his own little sister has managed to snag someone before him.”

“You realize something, right? That if he finds out you’re the one who got him that date in the first place, Tim will feel like an even bigger loser?”

“Well, that’s why I’m asking you to be subtle about it,” Eddie pleaded. “You can introduce him to one of your friends—heck, one of your acquaintances. It would even be okay if he gets ghosted after the first date. At least he could say he’s been on one, and then maybe he’d get the initiative to find someone a little…closer to his level.”

“Wow, for someone who cares so much about Tim, you sure seem to have a pretty low opinion of his prospects,” Heather said sarcastically.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” Eddie chuckled. “Tim’s a good guy, but he’s never been the most…outgoing person.”

“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Heather rejoindered. “Anyway, it looks like you’re not going to let us be seen openly unless I do something. And I’m tired of sneaking around just because you want to spare my brother’s feelings and avoid things getting awkward between the two of you.”

“Hey, if things get uncomfortable between me and Tim, I’m going to be stuck eating lunch at the cafeteria with just Yang, and that would be really sad,” Eddie joked.

Heather just rolled her eyes.

“Look, I can’t promise anything…and I sure as hell am not going to introduce him to any of my track teammates, but…there’s a girl in my class who’s always reading manga and has a Doctor Who backpack. Maybe she’s more his speed. I could—“

The sound of Heather’s phone interrupted her mid-sentence. She looked at her messages.

‘Samantha:

where r u? we r meeting to talk about training plans before regionals, in front of the gym. Can u come?’

“Ah, it’s the track captain. We need to meet about the regionals. I’m sorry, Eddie, but can we take a raincheck on this conversation?”

“Aw, man,” Eddie said. “Just when I was getting somewhere.”

“Sorry,” Heather winked. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you a call tonight—sound good?”

“Sounds great.”

“Can I help you clean up really quick?” Heather asked, as she stood up. She pointed to the blanket and leftover napkins, paper plates, and plastic bottles.

“No, don’t worry about it. You go to your meeting. I’ll take care of this,” Eddie stood up as well, brushed the front of his jeans, and gave her a thumbs up.

“Thank you. You’re…you’re great,” Heather said, and leaned into him for a kiss.

Eddie kissed her back, embracing her as he did so.

“Well, talk to you tonight, okay?” Heather said, looking back at him regretfully.

“Of course!” Eddie waved her off as he started picking up the remains of their picnic lunch.

Heather ran off in the direction of the gym, while Eddie squatted down and cleaned.

If either of them had bothered to look in the direction of the woods over the course of the last few minutes, they would have seen Tim walk out of it, backpack in hand.

As it was, Tim had walked directly in front of the bleachers, heard his sister’s voice speaking with someone and, curious, walked to the back, just in time to catch Heather embracing the person he thought of as his best friend.

Eddie, focused on his cleaning, didn’t even see Tim walk underneath the bleachers until he was right on top of him. It was only when he noticed someone’s shadow obscuring the light coming from the gaps between bleacher seats that he bothered to look up.

A shadowy figure loomed over him.

“So, Eddie, it was you all along.”