FocusTunes Ch. 08

The caption, right under Miranda's face, read: "She has no idea what you did to her."

It only took a few more strokes to cum.

-----

I'd been in this library hundreds of times, and still I appreciated just how fucking ugly it was. Monochromatic, cubic, unimaginative. It used to really piss me off. Now, I fucking loved it. What a great fucking library. Squares are so fucking sick man. Love beige. Books and shit.

I was tutoring Miranda Plover today, and I didn't feel any resentment towards her at all. I felt joy, connection - both physical and emotional. Since I was last in this library and had discovered FocusTunes, one long week ago, I had been hunting for a sense of completion, understanding, finality. Now, I had it.

As I sat at our third floor desk and fantasized about sex with Miranda, I let my hungry gaze roam again. These people had no fucking idea what I could do; how easily I could twist their lives to my liking. I watched some hot piece of ass walk by and thought casually about adding her to my network, another girl to brainwash, another girl to fuck, another girl to use to get other girls to brainwash and fuck. I had no idea who she was or who she knew; but I knew she was mine if I wanted her.

Football team member walked by? Mine.

Member of the lit faculty walked by? Mine.

Janitor walked by? Fuck it. He had some keys that would be useful to me.

I was like the fucking Finding Nemo seagulls man.

Just then, Miranda flounced over. I hadn't recognized her because she was in full cheerleader attire, skirt glancing over her naked thighs as she sashayed. Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, her feet clad in crisp white Keds, high socks of crimson and steel stripes climbing up to her knees. I knew, through extensive personal research, that the school's cheerleaders wore black spandex under their uniform to cover the gap between their skirts and tops. I knew, given the bare tummy winking at me, that Miranda was not wearing it.

"Hey, sorry I'm late!" she huffed as arrived, dropping her bag off her shoulder and leaning against the table. "Practice ran late -- I didn't even have time to change. Is it okay that I'm still in uniform?"

"Is it..." I repeated, still starstruck. "Yeah, I mean...you can go change if you want?"

"No, it's okay, we're already behind. Besides, I'm supposed to be seeing my boyfriend tonight, so I don't want to stay too late."

"Uhh..."

"Yeah, sorry. Have something special planned for him." I remained confused and accordingly speechless, so Miranda plowed on. "Oh, come on. Most guys have a cheerleader fantasy! I'm sure you do, too."

"I..."

"I'm just teasing you Ben, gosh." She sent me a sly grin. "Most guys like that, too."

For a brief moment, I wasn't completely certain that I was the one who had brainwashed Miranda. How could someone this confident, this suggestive, possibly be the person controlled by whatever anxious ball of uncertainty I had become in just a wisp of Miranda's presence? Before she had arrived, I was basking in how different everything was. But now, I felt just like I always had: playing a game with someone who knew they held all of the cards and had nothing at stake on the table.

Wait. It felt just like it always had.

I understood. Miranda, my girlfriend, was trying to give me something special. Something she knew I always wanted. A tutoring session that didn't peak at a gentle tease and end with a hug goodbye. A tutoring session in which stolen glances were not ignored, but encouraged. She may not know how she became my girlfriend, or all of the horrible things I had done and would continue to do to her - but she did know me. And she knew I spent every Friday night dreaming about a hot cheerleader so impressed by my, I don't fucking know, mastery of classical mechanics, that she would lose control and fuck me senseless.

And if I was reading the look on Miranda's face right, I was going to get just that.

"Are you ready to start?" she asked.

-

"Mmhm, mmhm," I murmured to myself, leaning over Miranda's shoulders to 'check her work' on a problem we both knew she'd gotten right. I'd been looming for a few seconds now, my eyes looking nowhere but down her shirt as I used my vantage point over the seated Miranda to drink in her cleavage. I would never have been so bold during previous sessions, but I loved to stand and pace while Miranda sat for this exact reason. Miranda would never have been so bold either, subtly pulling her shoulders back to make her chest more pronounced.

"Look good?" she asked, innocent as ever.

"Yep. Looks great."

-

"..and you can plug that back in for x at the top, and then go through and solve for y." I tapped the page. "Pretty easy, right?"

"Mmhm." Miranda said, sounding unconvinced. I took my eyes off the workbook to check on her. She looked distracted, deep in thought, her chin buried in her hand and her brow furrowed. Without a change in her expression, she took one finger off her chin and placed it between her lips. Just to her first knuckle. Then, still with no change, she pushed the finger in to the second knuckle. A few more pulses, in and out, slowly. Then her mouth opened, her tongue fat atop her teeth, her fingertip dragging across it.

Her eyes flickered to mine - wide, innocent, blue. She closed her lips around her finger again, staring straight at me, and sucked it all the way down.

"Oh, sorry!" She said suddenly, pulling her finger out. "I got distracted."

"Yeah..." I said slowly, shuffling in my seat. "Me, too."

-

"Ugh, I need to stretch." Miranda said, with a groan of exhaustion that belonged to the end of hours of studying. (We'd been reading for like, five minutes.)

Stretch she did, grasping her hands behind her back and thrusting her chest forward to arch her spine. Her eyes were closed in bliss, so I just stared at her tits. She kept them closed as she raised her hands and stretched her back again, her rib cage poking against her top, accentuating just how unnecessarily fucking big and perky those tits were.

And then she got up.

Placing her hands flat on the desk in front of her, she hinged at the hips, pushing her ass back to stretch her hamstrings tight. Her skirt was so brief, the shorts underneath were revealed, miles of soft white thighs visible from every angle. I couldn't help but scan the library floor, positive someone was also watching this, seeing this little sex creature fulfilling every 18-year-olds' fantasy with no shame in the public eye.

Nobody else was watching. She was just for me.

"That's better." She said with a final pulse and huff. Her eyes opened, she sat down, looked to me, and grinned. "Back to it."

"No."

When I heard the word said, I wasn't sure it was me who said it. Why would I say it? That would be dumb. That would be fucking dumb. You dumb fuck. But the surprise and confusion on Miranda's face made it clear: it was me.

"Why? Is there something wrong?" Miranda asked. "I thought-"

"No, nothing's wrong, I just..." As I spoke, I found the unsettled feeling in my stomach - the one that had spoken "No" while my head was distracted. "I...I get what you're trying to do, and I really appreciate it, it's super hot, I just..."

"Just what?" Miranda asked, and the teeny tiny tone of defiance and frustration in her voice was enough to push my boulder over the edge.

"I don't...I don't get manipulated by you any more." I said frankly. "That's not how this works."

"I wasn't trying to manipulate you!" Miranda hastened to defend herself. "I just thought...like teasing, for fun."

"I understand what you were thinking. You just don't...you don't know how much I've changed, I guess." I was only half-talking to her now, coming to a self-realization just as much as I was explaining my realization to her. "You're trying to tease a guy that just doesn't exist anymore."

"I don't get what you mean."

"I know." I said, almost sympathetically. "The best thing to do is just to show you." I leaned forward, looking her in the eyes. "As subtly as you can, so that nobody in the library notices, touch yourself. Play with your pussy."

Color rushed to Miranda's cheeks immediately, but even as embarrassment and fear danced across her face, her left hand slid carefully off the desk and landed in her lap. She wiggled a couple of times in her seat, scooching closer to the table, providing more cover for her public indecency. I waited until I was positive she had made contact before I asked.

"Are you over your shorts and panties right now? Answer my questions honestly."

"Yes."

"That's unacceptable. Under your panties, please."

"Okay."

Her cheeks grew redder, but her eyes didn't waver from mine. Her elbow peeked above the table as her hand readjusted, quickly leaning back to slip her dainty fingers under her waistband. Again, I waited long enough to be sure she was in place.

"Now, you don't have to make yourself cum. But you do have to get yourself wet and horny. Understand?"

"Yeah," she said, a little breathy.

"Now, I'm going to tell you a story while you play with yourself. A week ago, you followed me into that bathroom" - I pointed as I leaned back in my chair - "to blow me. You caught me jacking off to you, and you got right down on your knees in a public bathroom and deepthroated me. You had no idea why you did this, and at first, I didn't either. But then, I figured it out: I had accidentally brainwashed you.

"You see, FocusTunes - that app that your mom put on your phone? It actually works. Way better than intended, too. One of the songs puts you into this hyperattentive state, and it seems like all information you consume in that state gets tattooed onto your brain. While you were listening to FocusTunes, you heard me say "You want to suck me" and "Beg for my cum," and you took that as gospel.

"Once I figured that out, I brainwashed you more. I came over to your house, brainwashed you, made you want to fuck me, and then fucked you. And it was perfect, Miranda. It was everything I ever wanted. You were a little fucking nympho already, just like I thought you'd be, just like I dreamed you'd be - but you were a pliable nympho. I could make you into exactly what I wanted you to be. Obsessed with sex, obsessed with me.

"I didn't fully know what I was doing yet, though, and I kinda fucked your brain up. In trying to fix it, I gave you too much power back. Power that let you say no to me when I demanded sex from you - something that you will never, ever get to do again. And you know what you made me do, when you said no to me, Miranda? You made me take other girls.

"So I took Emily. You already knew that, of course. The night you called me over and asked what we were doing at her house? Fucking, obviously. She may not be as good at sex as you are, but she's tighter than you, and she rides like a fucking champ. You still playing with yourself?"

"Yes."

"How are you feeling?"

"Horny."

"Good. Don't stop. But I didn't just take Emily - I took Amanda Brooks. I made her beg for my cum on her tits, which is something I should have been doing to you, but you made me use her instead, a replacement. I made her talk dirty to me, and she was okay at it, but nothing like you. But I took her to get to you, and that's why you picked her up for school this morning. She helped me brainwash you.

"And now, you want more than just to suck my cock and beg for my cum. Now, you do whatever I tell you to do, and you like doing it - that's why playing with your little cunt feels so good right now, because you're also obeying me. You also think everything I do is totally okay and reasonable, which is why I can tell you about all of the manipulating and fucking and brainwashing I've been doing, and you think it's all totally okay. You do think it's okay that I'm fucking two of your friends and brainwashing you into being my girlfriend, right?"

"Yes."

"That's good news. You won't mind if I brainwash more of your friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead and say it. 'I want you to brainwash more of my friends'."

"I want you to brainwash more of my friends."

"Okay, I will. But only because you said so." I smiled at her - her lips just opened slightly, her breath heavy on her lips now, small pants rising and falling in her chest.

"Now, here's why this story is important. Because you are special to me, Miranda. You are my girlfriend, the one I've always wanted. I can't change personalities - at least not yet - but I don't even want to change yours, because it's perfect. You're smart and funny and not fucking vapid like Emily, thank God. You're already super obsessed with sex. You're still trying to tease me and come up with ways to seduce me, and you'll keep doing that forever. I wouldn't change a thing about you if I could." I reached out now and touched her cheek with my fingers, feeling for the first time in my life like a rich man lording over his wealth, a king over the beauty of his kingdom. "But what you need today isn't a reminder that you're special. You need a reminder that you are average. That you are just one of many sluts that I could choose, at any time, in equal measures, to fuck or to toss aside for another slut. You are replaceable. You are tits and ass and a pussy and a mouth and I will use each and any of those exactly how I wish. Do you understand?"

"No."

"No?" I said, earnestly surprised more than anything else. "Why not?"

"Because I don't believe you." Miranda said plainly, captured by my command to be completely honest. "You said I'm special, but average. That doesn't make any sense. I'm not average to you. You did all of that to get me back. You didn't have any relationship with Emily and Amanda before this, but you've always liked me and wanted me, so fucking them is different. You were comparing them to me when you told me about them. You didn't even start trying to get other girls until I said no to you, and if they really could replace me, you'd be with them right now and not with me."

"Hm." I leaned back in my chair. "You know what? You're actually right." I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. "Completely under my control, diddling herself in public, and still legitimately insightful. You are special, Miranda. You really are."

Miranda smiled back at me, genuinely receiving her praise - still her left hand stayed buried beneath the desk.

"But you're also far too cocky and self-assured for my liking. It's time for you to learn your place." I stood, so obviously hard against my pants that I actually felt some shame. "Stop touching yourself and let's go. I have a surprise for you."

—

Miranda and I pulled into her driveway in separate cars. Emily's car was already parked there, and she got out as I did.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Miranda was out of her car and marching up the walkway, her eyes pulled hard away from me and Emily.

"No, no, no," I admonished. "Come back here." She turned and stomped back, casting a quick and caustic glance Emily's way. "That's no way to greet your best friend, is it? Say hello."

"Hello." Miranda said flatly.

"Tell her you're happy to see her."

"I'm happy to see you."

"Now give her a kiss and we can head inside."

Miranda stepped up to Emily briskly, who immediately recoiled.

"Kiss her back, Em. Like you mean it, both of you."

And just like that, Emily was back, leaning in to Miranda's opened lips. It was a dusklit kiss, soft light blending the contrast of Miranda's light skin and Emily's caramel tones; Emily's lips, soft and pale; Miranda's, greedier, rosy pink.

"Let's see a little tongue please."

Without a conscious thought, Miranda's hand alighted on Emily's waist as they grew closer together, mouths wider now, flickers of tongue dancing in the twilight. Miranda was up on her tiptoes to reach Emily, whose hand began naturally slipping from atop Miranda's shoulder to her clavicle now, exposed over the bare bones cheerleading uniform she still wore for my enjoyment.

"Okay, that's enough. Thank you girls."

They split quickly, uncomfortably, Emily looking dazed while Miranda glanced at nearby windows.

"I really hope nobody saw that."

"I really hope somebody did." I said as I sauntered toward the door. "It was hot as hell."

We got inside. Emily and Miranda continued to drift away from one another, magnets repelled by the similar charges of discomfort and powerlessness.

"Now, where should we start?" I wondered aloud. "Eenie meenie minie...moe." I pointed at Miranda, beckoning with a finger. "Come here."

For the second time in as many minutes, Miranda was compelled to come to heel. Once she was in arms' reach, I stuck a hand out and traced my thumb over her lips, holding her chin in place before slipping my thumb in her mouth. "Suck on it," I said. And she did.

"Usually, I find your lip very endearing. But not tonight. Tonight, you're not going to make any clever jokes or snarky remarks. You're not going to say anything off topic, in fact — and the topic is this: me. What I want. And tonight I want you to be an obedient, obsequious little slut. You're going to put all of your thoughts and energy into turning me on and making me happy. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Go upstairs and change into the sluttiest thing you own. No little cheerleader outfit — I'm talking the sort of outfit you would be embarrassed to admit you have, that's how slutty it is. If I am disappointed in what you come downstairs wearing, I will..." Ah, fuck. Uhhh ".. something bad will happen. You will be punished, I mean. Anyway, go."

My thumb slipped out of her mouth as she whisked away, quickly to the staircase and even faster up it. That was the enthusiasm I was looking for.

"Now you." I turned to Emily. "You come here, too."

Emily approached, and I drank her in for the first time this evening. Short white shorts topping legs a mile long; skimpy black top insufficiently covering the red bra strap underneath. She approached with characteristic grace and superiority; when she got into arm's reach, I stuck a hand out and found her throat.

"You." I squeezed only a little bit, just enough to make her eyes pop with uncertainty. "I am going to use you tonight like I have never used you before. And I need you at your fucking best. No shitty blowjobs where you give up the first time I hit your fucking throat. No shitty dirty talk where you sound like a dumb pornstar. You're going to be eager and excited and enthusiastic and fucking good at this, okay?"

"Okay."

"Hmm." I moved my hand to her jaw, tilted her face. "Do I believe you?" I asked rhetorically.

"I don't know." Emily answered anyway. Not a great start.

"Convince me."

"Um..." Emily looked at me, uncertain.

"God, you're fucking dumb." I lowered my voice. "I gave Miranda this big talk about how she is replaceable, how I can find what she does anywhere, and you just...you can't do anything at all, can you?"

"No! I can, I promise, I can-"

"Enough." I shook my head. "Get on your knees."

As Emily dropped to her knees, I reached for my pants - not the zipper, but for my pocket. Out came my phone; my headphones went into Emily's ears. I checked the staircase as Emily slipped under a trance - no sign of Miranda yet.

Entranced, Emily tried to get up and start wandering around - my hand on her shoulder kept her in place. It was only appropriate that this particular round of brainwashing happened here, with Emily kneeling at my feet. "You are submissive. Dominant men turn you on. You like rough, demeaning sex. You are submissive. Dominant men turn you on. You like rough, demeaning sex."

Did I feel pretty dumb saying it? Yes. It's never a good feeling, when you hear yourself talking and it sounds like something you'd read on a subreddit that compiles cringey incel screenshots. But it had to be done.