FocusTunes Ch. 07

Author's Note: All characters are over the age of 18. Story will include soft themes of mind control (fucking duh, mate) and rough sex.

To all who left a comment: I appreciate your kindness.

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"I will fix this."

That was the promise I made Miranda, and it was a promise I intended to keep. Just...maybe not the way she expected. And...you know...a different problem than the one she was talking about. Whatever.

My conversation with Miranda had made it very clear: the joyride in the new car was over. The spending spree after the robbery was drawing unwanted attention. You'd think I had seen enough heist movies to play things smarter, but alas -- no use crying over spilled cum. I had made mistakes, but I still had the song, nobody knew what I was doing, and I hadn't been arrested or murdered yet. I was still playing from the position of power.

That Wednesday night, I logged the terrain. I'd been roaming without a map, begging to get lost on unfamiliar ground. I finished my notes on Emily -- I'd given her almost 15 total commands, whether via FocusTunes or through my secondary influence -- and opened and completed dossiers on Miranda and Heidi alike.

Miranda's commands to this point:

● You want to suck my cock

● Beg for my cum

● You've always wanted to fuck me

● You are able to control your sexual urges

● You trust me

Initially, I was a little worried that Number 5 wasn't kicking in over recent days, but then I realized you can trust someone and still be extremely pissed off at them. And I had done plenty to piss Miranda off. That trust could end up helpful down the road, after her anger abated -- but it wasn't going to matter in the short term.

And I couldn't afford to wait. I realized late that Wednesday, tossing and turning in bed, that this predicament demanded a quick resolution. I had no commands buttoning Miranda's mouth as I did on Heidi and Emily. She could tell anyone that Emily and I were fucking, or that she and I had fucked -- realities that would stun their mutual friends. Sure, Miranda thought she'd always wanted to fuck me -- but she'd never told anyone that (because it wasn't a real fucking feeling), and she certainly had no explanation for why Emily had fucked me.

And if confronted, Emily wouldn't admit that she fucked me because I had told her to keep it secret -- even though she'd already admitted it to Miranda. God, that had been so fucking dumb! I thought making Miranda jealous would push her to dire straits of fucking me, but that wasn't a real plan -- that was Horndog Devil in control. It was time to permanently bench him, much to his chagrin; I needed cool, calculating autonomy.

So I started my own clock. The longer Miranda languished in her funk, the more attention it would draw, and eventually, the secret would get out. I needed to get her back in the fold, and that meant putting her under FocusTunes. But of course, I'd never get her to listen to the music again. I considered hoping that she stumbled back on the song during Friday tutoring, before I realized: there was no fucking way Miranda and I were doing Friday tutoring this week. Wow. End of an era.

I thought about exporting the file and sending it to her via text message, hoping she'd open it just out of curiosity, with no reason to expect harm. It was a bad idea in theory and a worse idea in practice: a quick perusal of the app offered no method for downloading the song, and I had no idea if recording it on a different device would preserve its magic -- even if I could do it safely.

It was after 1 A.M. that I realized my solution: a truly elegant one, which felled two birds -- maybe more! -- with one stone.

I opened my phone.

B: Come over tomorrow morning once you're ready, same as earlier this week

I sent the text and fell asleep more promptly than I expected: hard work trumped tormented thoughts, I suppose.

-----

I was halfway through my morning routine when I heard the front door pop open. After a moment of sheer panic, I remembered: I told her to come "same as earlier this week," which meant sneaking in with the spare key. The literalness of this superpower was gonna be the death of me.

Emily was marching towards the stairway when she caught my eye in the kitchen and about-faced. She wore her hair straight and flat over a stormy-blue button down, oversized such that it fell long over her ass, the sleeves bunched over several times to crest her slender wrist. Dark leggings slunk along long legs into mini Ugg boots.

"Morning!" I said brightly, handing her a mug of coffee. "I didn't know how you took it, but there's cream and sugar..."

"I don't drink any caffeine." She fished a smoothie bottle from her voluminous shoulder bag, brown-green muck sloshing within. "Way healthier for you, you know."

"That's good to know. But if I didn't have caffeine, I think I'd be fully unhinged." I took another sip of my coffee (light and sweet, anyone who says they like bitter coffee is an asshole, fuck you) and gestured to the kitchen table. "Take a seat."

"I didn't really expect...all this," Emily admitted as she sat down.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you said 'same as earlier this week,' so..."

"Oh, shit." Eventually I'd fucking figure this out. "This isn't a booty call, Em."

"Then...what is it?"

"Listen to this first." I gave her my phone, headphones in, song pre-selected. "And I'll explain everything."

-----

And explain everything I did. I read Emily her new truths from my script: "Emily: everything Ben does is normal, reasonable, and justified. You never get upset with Ben for anything he does."

My plan was a risk-riddled one, and for Emily to just robotically follow my orders would make it doubly so. She needed to be able to make decisions, on the fly, without my oversight, but for my benefit. Obedience was not enough; I needed loyal, motivated participation. I needed devotion, and that meant full immersion in my mission.

"So, Emily: I can brainwash people. I brainwashed you to make you do everything I say, and to get horny whenever you do what I say. That's why we've been fucking recently, and why you like it so much, and why you do what I ask. Does that make sense to you?" I said it flippantly, assured that, even if I had fucked up, I could still command her into silence and back under my influence.

"Yeah, of course." Emily was completely nonplussed. My heart leapt in triumph.

"And I brainwashed Miranda as well. I made her obsessed with fucking me and sucking me off, which is why she's been acting weird recently -- we were fucking over the weekend."

"I knew it!" Emily smirked, triumph now hers.

"You knew we were fucking?" Immediate panic!

"No, I just knew something was going on with her." Emily said. "Though, usually when she hooks up with somebody, she isn't like, weird and embarrassed about it."

"Well, maybe it was the brainwashing that threw her off." I said wryly, taking a bite of toast.

"No, I don't think so..." Emily murmured her disagreement. "From another guy, definitely. But that's pretty normal from you."

That comment sat in silence for a second; I had stopped chewing.

"You know...you still have to keep the brainwashing thing a secret." I mumbled through a half-full mouth. "Like...everything I'm telling you right now is a secret. You have to act like you don't know any of this when we're around anyone else."

"Oh, okay." Emily smiled sweetly. "You can trust me."

"I know I can." I smiled back, enjoying my newfound freedom in a legitimate confidant. "Okay, so the problem is that Miranda is pissed at us for getting together, and she isn't programmed to listen to whatever I say, so I can't just brainwash her again -- she wouldn't let me do it. So I need to find a way to brainwash her again, so that I can get her back to liking me and listening to me. And liking you, obviously, as well. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I think so." Emily took a sip of her smoothie. "But I don't get something."

"What's that?"

"Why is she mad at you for fucking me?"

"Uh..." I was not prepared for this question. "Because you and her are friends, and I was kinda already fucking her, so..."

"Well, I get why she's mad at me," Emily said quickly. "But like, if we just tell her that you commanded me to do it, won't that solve the problem?"

"Why would it solve anything?" I asked, staring at her like she was nuts.

"Because you did it!" Emily said, staring at me like I was nuts.

"No, see, this is what I'm talking about." God fucking dammit. "Other people don't think that everything I do is justified. You think that. Because I brainwashed you into thinking it. Other people just react to me...regularly."

"Ohhh." Emily nodded sagely, as if the words I just said formed a coherent, reasonable thought.

"Yeah. You kinda have to think, like..." I scrambled for a bit. "Like, everything I do, you have to react as if fucking Gilbert Gerwin did it. If Gilbert Gerwin was fucking you--"

"Eww! No thank you."

"Yes, obviously -- but if he was, and then he started fucking Miranda, you'd be..."

"Disgusted."

"Yes, but also..."

"Pissed."

"Right. So if others learned that I did that to you and Miranda, they'll react as if Gerwin did it. Or some other random guy. And they'll expect you to react that way, too."

"I've got it." Emily took another sip. "So, are you going to brainwash Miranda like me? So that she isn't pissed at you anymore."

"I'm gonna try." I checked the clock. I had to get this conversation moving. "But I need your help."

"What do you need?"

"I need to use the app on Miranda. It's downloaded onto her phone, so --"

"What app?" Emily was confused.

"The app." I thumbed through my phone. "It's what I use to...well, do the brainwashing, I guess."

"There's an app that can brainwash people?!" Emily nearly got out of her chair, she was so stunned.

"What? I just told you that I was brainwashing people! Did you think..." Oh, wait, yep, she definitely thought it was just me doing it myself.

"Holy shit. Holy shit!" Emily shook her head. "Can anyone just fucking download it? How...the fucking..."

"Okay, listen: I made the app, nobody else can use it but me and the people I give it to, uh...yeah. The app is aboveboard. Also: our secret, as per usual." I sighed. "Does that cover everything?"

Emily nodded solemnly, all of her worries quelled by my blessing. "Makes sense."

"Course it fucking does." I muttered. "So, as I was saying: I've gotta brainwash Miranda, with the app. It's downloaded on her phone and mine, and there's a specific song on there that starts the process. But there's no way she'll listen to anything I tell her to, or you -- she's way too pissed at us. But we can, however, get someone else to play the song for her."

"Who?"

"Someone she trusts. I'm worried that she's going to tell someone about our drama this past week, and then I'll get a lot of attention regarding how I just randomly started fucking two of the hottest girls in school. So...who do you think Miranda would tell, if she had a secret of that magnitude?"

Emily thought for a moment.

"I dunno...either Abby or Bianca, or Amanda."

That's what I was looking for.

"Amanda was my guess as well. She talked with her a lot during the Oliver saga because she's not super-close friends with your friend group, and I figure she won't want to talk with Bianca or Abby because they're tight with you, too."

Amanda Colombo was a sweet little thing. Her eyes were bluebird from afar, but danced with etchings of green and crystal from up close. A round face often hid behind a bushy curtain of thick, curly brown hair, but the big tits and big ass that filled out a short, curvy frame couldn't hide if they tried -- during track practice, which we shared, she did little else but flaunt it. She wasn't particularly beautiful, but she was absolutely bangin', and had a wholesome and earnest vibe that attracted the friendship and trust of a wide friend group.

"You're kinda friends with Amanda, right?" I asked. Emily nodded. "Okay. If I show you how to use the app, will you use it on her?"

"I dunno. I'm scared of doing...that." Emily's face reflected her words. "The idea of brainwashing another person freaks me out."

"But if I command you to do it..." I trailed off. Emily swallowed.

"I'll do it."

And like that, I had my first agent of world domination.

-----

I downloaded the app on Emily's phone and showed her my secret weapon, the revolutionary hit single: Hippocampus Hop. She nearly clicked it out of ignorant curiosity, but I just got the save off in time, keeping us both from perpetual hypnosis. I described how the song needed headphones, how Amanda would need to be alone, how she'd go wandering into the distance if unattended, and the exact wording of the command I'd like to be given to her.

Then I had Emily repeat all of it back to me. Twice.

We were pushing the clock yet again, so with the plan in place -- and an assurance that, if she got confused or uncertain, she'd abort the mission and circle back with me -- we hastened out of the door. As I followed her to our cars, her shirt flicked in the wind, and I stole a glance at her ass. Not a single pantyline interrupted that smooth expanse. It looked tasty, so as I walked by her, I gave it a hearty pinch.

"Emily," I said, my voice neutral. "Did you not wear any panties today, like I told you to?"

"Yes." Her voice was a little urgent. "Of course."

"I'm not sure if I believe you." I tilted my head indecisively. "You'll have to find a way to prove to me you did what I asked."

I had arrived at my car; Emily was still frozen along the walkway.

"...how?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "But I expect proof before dismissal, and remember -- nobody can find out."

I got proof just before first period: a video sent of a headless torso in a bathroom stall. One manicured hand slid into frame, tugged on the waistband of the leggings, and wriggled a hip free. One more tug pulled the tights to mid-thigh, revealing nothing but velvety chocolate legs. One final tug pulled the shirt up, revealing Emily's hairless, pantiless pussy.

B: This could be anyone

E: it's me texting you!

B: I'm unconvinced

And a moment later, another file came through: this one a picture, taken from higher up, with a simpering fake pout painted on Emily's face, now captured in frame. Far below: a still naked waist.

B: That's my girl

As I smiled at the messages, I realized: my texts with Emily were all pretty incriminating. My newfound focus on discipline murmured its disapproval, so I quickly sent a follow up.

B: Delete all of our texts. Best to keep our tracks covered.

And I did the same...after I saved the photo and video, storing them away in "Catan Strats." For a rainy day.

-----

As such, my messages were empty when I got another text from Emily during the final period of the day. Just two words at the top of an empty page:

E: Mission accomplished

My heart leapt in my chest. I'd been a nervous wreck the entire day, jumping at every passing gaze from one of Miranda's friends, wondering when the accusations would descend. Miranda had ignored me pointedly, only exchanging cursory words with Emily when their larger social circles intersected. Emily, at my behest, was avoiding her at all costs.

No shoe had dropped, however, and my time on the frenetic defensive was finally over. I could go back on offense now.

If the mission was indeed accomplished, Amanda would do whatever I told her to do -- and text messages would work just fine, as they had with Emily. I had a message already typed out and saved for this occasion.

B: Meet me at my locker at dismissal. S1036.

If Emily had somehow failed, this would be an odd, unsolicited text, but easily waved away as an embarrassing wrong-contact blunder. That'll teach me to text under the desk!

I didn't get an immediate response; I didn't even get a timely one. The seconds became epochs as fifth block traversed the expanses of unidirectional linear time, its engine slowed to a merciless chug by the doldrums of Professor Nossock's vacuous monotone. Nobody gives a fuck about classical antiquity on a regular day you relic, you flatulant nudnik, you champion of dullards, you splattering of beige upon the earth, you--

The bell rang.

I was in the hallway before Nossock's sigh hit the smartboard.

I ripped down on my messages again, refreshing the feed: no answer. Of course no answer. Class had just finished; she'd just now be looking at her phone. She'd see the notification. She'd read the command. She'd obey.

I flipped over to my Notes app, wherein I'd composed the commands that I had Emily relay to Amanda.

● You always do whatever Ben tells you to do, and you like doing it.

● Everything Ben does is normal, reasonable, and justified.

● You keep everything that Ben does a secret. You keep everything that you do for Ben a secret.

Three commands had felt like pushing it, even though all of them were commands I'd used before. I was just so worried about the amount of time it would take. But what if she read the message and wasn't responding; what if Miranda had told her my secrets, and now she was getting inexplicable messages from me? What would she think about that?!

Wheew, buddy. Calm down.

If it hadn't taken, that's fine. Miranda had lots of friends I could angle for. I didn't have all the time in the world, but I'd built this plan to look plausibly deniable from all angles. I'd taken my joyride. I was in control now. In control. In control.

I repeated this over and over as I arrived at my locker. But after my third failed attempt to open it, I had to admit that I was lying to myself.

I shouldn't have worried: there Amanda was, turning the corner and peering at the lockers as she did, navigating unknown terrain. Her fountain of curls bounced as she walked, books clutched to her chest but unsuccessful in concealing her remarkable bust. She wore a bright yellow top with thin straps and tight jeans with a patchwork sun sewn over one ample thigh. Happy girl; happy colors.

I waved awkwardly at her as she scanned. Seeing me, she beamed, and hastened over.

"Hey, Ben! Good day?"

"Uh, yeah, pretty solid. You?"

"Can't complain, I guess." She leaned against the locker beside mine. "So...what can I do for ya?" The phrasing was probably innocent, but it made me jerk, and she sent me a quizzical glance.

"Right, what can you do for me..." I pulled out my phone, scrolling down through my Notes to the next step of the plan. "So, you need to--"

"Ben!"

I whirled around, just a few syllables away from compelling a fresh new victim in broad daylight. Paranoia flooded me. It was Emily, warning me that the police were descending on the school. It was Miranda, confronting me in public about her sudden and inexplicable urges. It was my father, stoked to hear I was boinking two broads.

It was actually Rachel. Yeah, the Rachel from Chapter 1, who Miranda encouraged me to ask out? Same one as from Chapter 6: the friend looking at me and Heidi as we chatted privately at lunch. She's only a minor character here -- I'm trying to keep the different players down to a manageable number, I promise. But I don't ever try to fuck her -- wasn't my type then, certainly isn't my type now. So...she doesn't really warrant a physical description.

Sorry sis. That's the game.

"Do you know what's going on with Heidi?" Rachel asked, approaching with intent. Egads. The last girl who cornered me at my locker and asked me about a girl I had brainwashed...became a brainwashed nymphomanic...and just brainwashed another girl for me. Speaking of which...