Bimbo Builder Academy Ch. 05

Jules and I had a busy weekend.

It felt like we were having constant sex, like some strange energy had possessed us and we were suddenly all over each other. Technically, of course, it wasn't constant. But we did make love, fuck and everything in between a total of 9 times. Even the tainted sliver of my mind that still lusted after Natalie had shut up by Sunday evening, when an intense makeout session that turned into an intense mattress-pounding finally came to a powerful climax.

We lay in bed, panting in the dark.

I didn't ask her what had changed, though I wondered. Sex had been so difficult for her for so long that it felt like the ghost of Derrick had become a third member of our relationship.

I tried not to overthink it. Overthinking, Julia told me, was one of my weaknesses.

Instead, my mind turned to the other major problem in my life: the one that was yet unsolved.

Julia and I had been together so much that I hadn't even had time to think about the Academy. So, when I woke up early on Monday for my workout before school, I set my mind to business. I knew I needed a plan, a way to approach the situation. I had to put the variables in front of me and rearrange them until they came to some sort of balance.

I have been hypnotized.

I started with that.

I don't know how or why, but I have been post-hypnotically suggested not to share particular details about the Academy. Like... like an invisible NDA. And I don't know what else...

It was an alien, uncomfortable and frightening sensation to realize that somewhere in my mind there were algorithms running outside of my control. All I knew was that they were there, monitoring, my own mind watching me and making sure I didn't do anything to reveal the Academy's secrets.

And at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to feel rage or fear or anything other than a cold, analytic calm about the whole thing.

It was probably whatever hypnotic suggestions I'd been given. But there was also a tiny part of me that wondered if it wasn't also... me. My natural curiosity and desire to solve difficult problems, being put to the ultimate test: could I outthink my own mind?

But I forced myself to consider the other variables at play before I let myself go down that rabbit hole.

On the other side of the equation, then, there were the strange, beyond strange, Natalie incidents.

Natalie has been hypnotized. And my glasses — I had tucked them deep down at the bottom of my satchel where I wouldn't take them out and put them on without thinking — are triggering her... For some reason.

I tried to consider it logically. I tried to wonder if I should feel guilty, if I'd been taking advantage of her. But, instead...

I felt my face begin to flush as I imagined her eyes, wide and blue, and her hands stroking down my chest. I could see her big, perky tits in my imagination, wrapped around my throbbing pole while she begged me to cum all over her face and in her slutty mouth.

Fuck. I shook my head and got back to my next exercise.

Don't think about Natalie, I told myself. Think about the problem.

When was I hypnotized? I wondered. And how?

My mind went to that one day outside the astronomy classroom, where I'd spent half an hour crouched outside of a darkened auditorium listening in on another professor's lecture. Was that it? Or had it been something more subtle and sinister?

I recalled Principal Clayton's broad, handsome grin and wondered why I didn't feel safe telling him about this.

It must have been that other professor, I reasoned. The one with the same glasses as me. The one from the videos... But nonetheless, I knew I wasn't going to confide in my employer.

There was something strange going on at the Brighton Barnsworth Academy, and Joseph Clayton was too smart of a man to be entirely oblivious. But he couldn't possibly— I clenched my jaw and shut down the thoughts that had exploded, rallying to defend the principal.

I wondered why it was so hard to suspect him, but so easy to suspect a man I'd never met.

I showered off, quickly, and drove to work.

In the time I had before class began, I sat behind my desk and looked around the room. I didn't know what I was looking for. Something out of the ordinary, perhaps? But everything looked as it always did. The place looked clean and well-kept, the desks in their usual spread across the spotless, vacuumed carpet. I wondered when the cleaning staff came, because in all my time at Barnsworth, I'd never seen anyone else in the build—

...

I blinked.

The clock on the wall told me it was almost time for my students to arrive. By now I was used to their practically-military timing.

But...

I shook my head and tapped my chin with my pen. I'd been thinking something. Something about the staff. About... But I knew I'd seen someone, at least once...

Of course I had.

I grunted irritably and chewed at the inside of my cheek. I knew I'd been close to thinking something important. My mind doesn't just wander like that. It has been trained to strict precision.

Which means it must have been the suggestions. I sighed. Preventing me from thinking about certain topics. I needed to get a grasp on what was happening. But this was going to be more difficult than I'd expected.

When my students came in, I barely even acknowledged Natalie.

She smiled at me, as prim and proper and beautiful as always. She wore her usual schoolgirl plaid, only today it was in a muted shade of pink. With her bright smile and blue eyes she looked like someone's custom-built schoolgirl fantasy.

There was no hint in her gaze that acknowledged what had happened on Friday in the quad. There was no secret knowledge behind her eyes, or a hidden meaning behind her bright, innocent smile.

Her hair was all blonde now, I noticed.

But wait... Hadn't it always been?

Before I could think about it, the final student trooped in, closing the door behind her.

It was time for class to begin.

And there's that buzzing sound...

* * *

"You'll be coming, of course?"

My tongue came out to wet my lips.

I was sure I'd been listening to Principal Clayton.

I knew I'd been nodding along and agreeing with everything he'd said so far. But... For the life of me I couldn't remember what he was talking about.

Shit... I resisted the urge to check the clock. Something had happened.

The other man was looking at me with an expectant half-smile.

We were in an office.

My office? I tried to take in the environment around us without a panicked expression clawing its way across my features. No, his. It was relatively easy to keep a placid expression on my face, given how calm and relaxed I felt.

"Of course," I answered smoothly. "Can you email me the details? Just so I don't... ahem, forget."

If the man noticed my slight hesitation he didn't mention it. "Of course, Professor Sands," he said. He leaned back and turned toward his computer screen. "I'll just do that right now. Just wait a moment..."

I nodded, blinking. I started to say Thank you, but then I realized that my body was feeling lovely and warm and relaxed.

I tried to turn my attention toward it, some part of me recognizing the unnatural nature of the languid calm.

But then...

I was in my own office.

I jolted and swore, clutching at my desk like I'd been awakened very suddenly from a terrifying nightmare. The papers rustled beneath my fingers. My heart pounded, the world snapping from a hazy, comfortable calm into a sharp, clean focus.

There was no one else around.

The clock by the door told me it was a little after four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Holy fuck." I blew out a breath. And then another. For the first time in days I felt like my body was responding normally to the stress of the situation. Maybe it was the sudden burst of adrenaline coursing through my body, but I felt like my mind was suddenly clear and sharp. It was like I'd been looking at the world through colored lenses for ages and the sudden abrupt change of location had taken them away from my eyes.

Only...

I frowned. Had I imagined the whole thing?

Were you really there talking to him? I asked myself.

But I knew I'd been in Principal Clayton's office just moments ago. I had been saying... well, he'd definitely been telling me... things.

Something.

My frown turned into an angry scowl and I resisted the urge to slam my clenched fists down on the table. What had seemed like it might be an interesting problem — when my mind had been fogged out and calm — now appeared to me in its true form. It was a frightening monster of a situation and I shook my head, swallowing hard.

I felt a cold trickle of worry down my back.

Now, I couldn't be sure if I'd really been talking to the principal or if I'd imagined the whole thing. My jaw tightened and I felt the tension curling, creeping through my body.

I had thought I could handle this.

Maybe I'd been wrong.

I tried to calm down, tried to slow my racing heart. Has this happened before? I wondered. Had I ever lost track of time? Had I found myself places and not known why or how?

First things first, establish the facts. Only then would I be able to deal with the situation. I cast my mind back, scanning over the weeks prior. My mind registered schooldays passing swiftly, my lesson plan running by so quick I almost couldn't keep up with it.

I... I almost couldn't believe it. I felt goosebumps break out on my skin.

This wasn't the first time I'd lost hours of time here at the Academy. I'd been hypnotized before. And now, I thought I'd identified...

I didn't even want to say it.

One of my triggers, I thought, forcing myself to acknowledge my theory. And even just having the thought made the situation too real for me to enjoy the triumph of discovery. I stood abruptly, shoving back my chair and shuffling my papers together into my bag.

I hustled out of my office, down the empty hallway. I would need to run some experiments to be sure.

Tomorrow, I promised myself.

I would deal with it tomorrow.

For now, I just needed to get the hell out of here.

* * *

I didn't remember the email until that night, when Julia asked me if I wanted to go out on Friday night and I answered without thinking.

"Can't."

I made a face. The word had sprung from my mouth on cue, like I had already known the answer off hand. Only now I couldn't think of what I had to do.

My girlfriend rolled over from her side of the bed, where she was watching one of those YouTube cooking shows. Occasionally I joined her in watching them, for a cuddle, but tonight I was trying to really relax.

I was plowing through a dense but fascinating mathematics treatise, trying to distract my mind from the inevitable struggle I would face tomorrow when I returned to the Academy. I knew it was unproductive, that I needed to be developing functions and algorithms to handle my situation, but I was just... so... drained.

I felt like all of the emotions that had been repressed by the strange, hypnotic controls on my mind had raced through my body in the time it took me to make it from my office to my apartment. I didn't want to struggle, now, forcing my brain through the mental exercise of trying to find loopholes in my own subconscious conditioning.

It struck me that I had accepted, almost too readily, the fact that my mind was wrapped in invisible ropes that bound me to someone else's design. But I didn't see what else I could do.

I had to work within the axioms I was given.

"What do you have on Friday night?" Julia asked. "You didn't mention making plans."

I felt my face flush. "I think I have a work thing," I muttered, and as I said it I realized. "The email!" I sat up straight in bed, startling the gorgeous brunette by my side.

She raised one eyebrow. "First time I've ever seen you excited about email," she muttered.

"Yes, ahem, well," I was flustered, reaching for the bedside table and lifting my smartphone into my fingers. I tapped it open and scrolled through several pages of apps — I always intended to pare them down but never got around to it — until I found Mail.

I quickly opened it and refreshed the page.

Ding.

The soft chime of arriving mail into my newly synced mailbox.

I scrolled past several ads and then found what I was looking for. It was from Principal Joseph Clayton and clicked to open. "Sorry," I muttered to Julia out of the side of my mouth, not looking away from the screen.

I was wearing my reading glasses, but still had to squint as the email popped open. It was a full-page image that took up my whole screen, a party invitation.

"YOU are INVITED!" it declared.

There was a picture of Joseph Clayton, dapper as ever, with his arms spread wide standing on the front steps of the Academy. Behind him, arrayed in a semicircle, were half a dozen students in cocktail dresses smiling their brilliant, supermodel smiles. Their dresses were just long enough and just modest enough not to be criminal. But their stunning bodies only highlighted the fact that the dresses were only elegant packaging for something far more interesting.

"To the Brighton Barnsworth Academy ANNUAL INVESTOR'S BALL!"

"Damn..." Julia muttered. She was reading the email over my shoulder. "Is that the cheer squad or something?"

I coughed uncomfortably. "No," my throat felt dry. "Those are just students."

Julia snorted in disbelief. "No way," she said. "No freaking way. How are you sure?"

I sniffed, rolled my tongue around my mouth to stall, and then poked my finger at the screen. "That's one of my students."

Julia snaked an arm past me. She touched the screen and spread two fingers zoom in on the young woman in question. It was a stunning brunette with blonde highlights, her dazzling smile and blue eyes obviously shining with enthusiasm even through the photograph.

Natalie.

I frowned. Weird... The Natalie I knew was blonde.

My girlfriend whistled softly. "Damn..." she muttered. "Stunner, eh?"

I tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Oh!" I hurriedly changed the subject, brushing past Julia's fingers and scrolling sideways. "And I know her also."

I felt the tight not of tension in my chest ease as Natalie's face left the screen and was replaced by the less-enthusiastic but nonetheless charming smirk of Lena St. John. Her dark green eyes bored through the screen and into mine, like an unspoken threat. Her blonde hair was shorter and wavier, not as straight and strict.

I guess this was an old photo.

"Jeez," my girlfriend murmured. "I didn't realize you taught at the school where they send the Victoria's Secret Angels."

I tried to laugh softly. "Yeah," I agreed. "Pretty crazy, huh?"

I zoomed out and scanned the rest of the image. Just the standard

As I'd suspected, the event was to be held on Friday night.

I wondered if I had to RSVP, or if Principal Clayton already knew I'd be attending.

So I didn't imagine being in his office, I thought. The realization was both heartening and frightening. It meant that I could, to an extent, trust my mind and my memories. But it also meant that I hadn't imagined what had happened this afternoon.

I had been hypnotized in the principal's office, and I didn't know how or why or what had happened there.

Shit.

Julia laughed softly and lifted her head. She kissed my chin. "Hey there, Mr. Distracted. Your girlfriend asked you a question."

I blinked and shook my head. "Sorry, what?" I glanced down into her face.

She was smiling and chuckled gently. "So... now that you remember your Friday night work plans... Can I come?" She pointed at the phone. "It says right there you get a plus one."

"No!" I blurted. I said it too quickly, and my girlfriend glanced up at me, surprised.

Hurt flashed across her expression. Then, she frowned and leaned back. The warmth of her body left. "And why not?"

I had to think quickly. "Remember that thing I told you about?" I muttered, lowering my voice. "I... I did some investigating today."

Julia's features quickly recomposed themselves from irritated to concerned. "Oh?" She leaned forward again. "And?"

I shook my head and bit my lip. "I don't know," I admitted. "But I think that something is going to happen at the ball." It was a generic enough statement, and I was grateful my invisible filter let the comment through. It was also, of course, a lie. I had no idea what was going to happen at the Investor's Ball.

I just knew that, for whatever reason, Joseph Clayton wanted me there. And I had no power of choice in the matter.

My girlfriend cocked her head to one side. "Okay?" she said. "And?"

I frowned. "And I don't want you going near that place!" I said it with a vehemence that surprised both of us, but I recognized the set of Julia's face as she pressed her full lips together in a firm line.

"Jules..." I tried to say, but she shook her head decisively.

"If you're going, I'm going." She was putting her foot down. "Besides," and then she grinned to show me that she wasn't being serious, "how else can I make sure my handsome professor boyfriend isn't seduced by one of those hottie coeds?"

My own smile was forced, a beat too late, and felt unnatural as my stomach twisted and churned. But it must have been passable because Natalie just nuzzled closer again.

"Don't worry, darling," she said, resting her chin on my shoulder. "It'll be fine, and you'll get to the bottom of whatever's worrying you. I just want a chance to finally see where you work and meet some of your colleagues, okay?"

I swallowed. "Alright, Jules," I murmured. It looked like I didn't have much power of choice in this matter, either. I put my arm around my girlfriend. I brushed my fingertips lightly up and down her shoulder, musing silently, trying to force myself to relax.

"Investor's Ball, huh?" Julia said thoughtfully, after a moment. "What a weird name. Why do they need investors? Aren't all of their clients obscenely wealthy?"

"Yeah..." I muttered. "Weird." But we didn't talk any more about the party that night.

Later, once the lights were out, I thought back to Harrison St. John, Lena's father, and his obvious interest in Natalie in the quad last week.

Was he just a father? Was he an "investor"?

And, if he was, what on Earth was he investing in?

* * *

I almost accepted that my week at the Academy was going to blow past. I knew that I would arrive at work with my lesson plans and class would start and I would slip into a state of flow. Even recognizing that it was going to happen did nothing to stop it.

I arrived. I taught. Time skipped ahead. I sat at my desk at the end of the day and tried to review what I knew. Each day, though, I tried to go in with at least one goal.

Monday was already gone, but I'd come out with an important insight — my time and my memories were being tampered with. Things were being sped up, altered and deleted.

Tuesday: I tried to watch my students carefully after class began. I was, I found, not at all surprised to see that all of them seemed to slip into a similar state of flow as I did. During class hours, they were focused, silent note takers. Even Natalie never raised her hand with a question. It was like, after our first week, they'd been transformed from ordinary college students into knowledge-absorbing robots.