Focustunes Ch 08

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

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

Well, it's been two years. Hope all who enjoyed the first seven chapters are still lurking around. Can't promise when the next chapter will be out, but hey - that's your fault for letting me get away with a two year absence.

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It was sunrise. I was running.

Not away from anyone! Just in circles. I'm

probably

at the stage of my depravity at which I have to clarify these things.

I was working out. A good workout can help relieve stress, of course - and I needed the relief. I'd gone straight to bed after walking Amanda and Emily through my master plan (...but not before I took a photo of Emily's tongue on Amanda's cum-covered tits, both girls looking up to the camera from their knees, of course).

But my sleep was fitful, as sleep often is when you know you have to wake up early in the morning.

I arrived at the school track around 5 AM. I didn't really need the extra mileage — in fact, it would probably burn me during practice later today — but my restlessness demanded an outlet. Not to mention: I needed an excuse to be at school far before the arrival bell.

So I started to run. And it worked. The harder the workout became, the fewer mental faculties were available to worry about my problems.

Huff 'n puff. Huff 'n puff. Miranda might tell the whole school that I've been...achieving some uncharacteristic things. Huff 'n puff. Huff 'n puff. Emily, Amanda, Heidi - I had now brainwashed three additional girls in my effort to clean up the mess I'd made with Miranda. Huff 'n puff. Huff 'n puff. I was living in a house of cards, and one misstep would blow it all down.

I finished my final sprint and doubled over, hands on knees, my eyes screwed shut. I knew it wasn't 6:15 AM yet...it wasn't even close...and if I checked my watch, I'd be

so

pissed to see how little time had passed.

So I checked my watch. 5:48. Pigfucker.

I considered running some more, just to burn more clock, but my muscles screamed in protest. I trudged from the track back to the locker rooms, swinging through the student parking lot for reconnaissance. I only saw my car and a few others — wrestlers getting ready for the winter season. Nobody new. That was good.

I took my phone into the showers with me and watched the minutes tick by. I wasn't on Do Not Disturb (I had checked 15 times). I had a strong signal in the building (I had checked 15 times). I had no missed text messages (I had checked 15 times).

At 6:05, I was toweled dry, changed for school, and alone in a cavernous locker room, listening to my tapping foot echo off the walls. At 6:15, my phone buzzed.

It was a fucking e-mail. "Read our morning newsletter!" Fuck you.

At 6:17, my phone actually buzzed. A text from Amanda. "We're here!"

I stood so quickly that my jellied legs nearly put me right back down on the floor.

Oh, right.

I gave each leg a shake, checked my hair in the mirror (not that that fucking mattered), and grabbed my new noise-cancelling headphones from my backpack.

They were studio-caliber headphones bought from a music store downtown - cost me pretty much all the fungible income I had. The college dropout who sold them to me stopped smoking his joint long enough to assure me that they would make me "functionally deaf." Sounds great, right?

Not really. Testing them was kinda difficult — it took Emily and Amanda going under FocusTunes

a lot

while I watched on muted FaceTime - but it was well worth it. Eventually, we figured it out. With uproarious death metal ripping through the headphones at full volume, the hypnotic melodies of FocusTunes were functionally drowned out. The headphone wearer was impervious.

So I tapped my new "Thrash Metal" playlist on Spotify -- God, I was gonna fuck my algorithm -- wheeled the volume up as far as it could go, and stepped back into the student lot.

There was a new car there. It was Miranda's. Sitting in shotgun was Amanda, who had asked Miranda for a ride to school at my instruction. And the moment she saw me step toward the car, Amanda hit play on FocusTunes - which she had downloaded at my instruction - and nuked both herself and Miranda into a trance.

I rushed to the car, instinctively holding a deep gulp of breath as I threw open the driver's door and exposed myself to the toxic song. I could hear nothing but my personal screamo; felt no different than my usual self. Still, with as much distance between me and Amanda's phone as I could allow, I grabbed it from the center console and turned FocusTunes off just as the ensorcelled Miranda opened her door, ready to wander out of the car.

That had been close. But the hard part was over.

When Emily, Amanda, and I had tested this plan last night, we encountered an interesting problem. When both girls were tranced, I couldn't give just one of them commands - both absorbed the brainwashing even when I addressed only one of them by name. While only Emily was supposed to "Do the Macarena every time I touch my left big toe with my right ring finger," Amanda had joined her with gusto.

But I came up with a solution. With FocusTunes paused, I safely removed my headphones and placed them over Amanda's ears, pulling her bushy hair out of the way and adjusting the pads in the hopes that I had protected her from unwanted commands. That done, I slid into the backseat, and took a cautious look around. There was nobody new in the parking lot; nobody peering in from the building. We were just three people in a car.

Two of us were zombies, of course. Hot zombies. Hot, pliant zombies. Hot, pliant,

temporary

zombies. I had to hustle.

"Miranda," I said softly. "You always do whatever Ben says, and you like doing it. You always do whatever Ben says, and you like doing it."

I let the words linger.

"Miranda," I felt the finish line now; saw it as I rounded the bend. "Everything Ben does is normal, reasonable, and justified. You never get upset with Ben for anything he does."

I let the words linger.

"Miranda." My heart leapt to my throat. "You are Ben's girlfriend. You are Ben's girlfriend."

My girls began to stir.

Amanda moved first, pulling the headphones off of her head in confusion. The fuzziness of the last few moments remained, but now that she knew (and accepted) the reality of my brainwashing, she quickly put the pieces of the plan back together. She turned in the backseat, saw my smug smile, and her face brightened in victory.

"Good girl," I murmured, reaching out with my thumb and tracing her plump lips. "Now head inside and make sure nobody saw us."

Amanda was still leaving the car as Miranda came back to full consciousness.

"Wait...Amanda, why are you?..."

"Miranda," I said firmly. Miranda jumped at the new voice, whipping around to see me suddenly and inexplicably sitting in the back seat, cacophonous drums leaking out of my held headphones.

A moment's pause.

And then she smiled. Full, lustrous, uninhibited.

"Baby!" she squealed, scrambling to get out of the car. "When did you get here?"

"I figured I'd meet you." I made my way out of the car with far less urgency, savoring every moment. "Get a little workout in, make sure I keep this hulking bod up to your standards."

"You..." Miranda threw her arms over my shoulders and pulled me in for a kiss. "...just like looking at my ass when I work out."

I was grinning like an idiot as she bounced back down onto her heels, still with her hands clasped behind my neck. A free kiss, right in the middle of the school parking lot, from Miranda fucking Plover. Paint me green and call me a pickle.

"Kiss me again." I blurted out before I could stop myself. Miranda popped right back up onto her tippy toes and gave me a slower, more languid, somehow even sexier kiss than before. Without thinking, my hand traveled down the softness of the small of her back and found her ass. I grabbed a full squeeze, and I felt Miranda's smile grow on my lips.

"Cheeky boy." She nipped at my lip. "You just can't resist, can you?"

"Do you blame me?"

"Yes." She whispered her words onto my tongue, her breath hot and heavy. "For not doing it more."

I was hard.

My dick was trying, harder perhaps than ever before, to take control of my brain. The devil, who had been locked away for a whole day, conducted a marching band of horny little demons parading their way through my better reasoning.

Fuck her fuck her fuck her here and now like a rabid dog

With an inward groan, I pulled myself back to the plan. There were still questions that needed answering.

"Okay, I have to ask you something. And answer this honestly: who have you told about me and Emily hooking up?"

"Just Amanda. I was going to tell Bianca and Abby today because they've been asking what's going on."

"Thank God," I sighed to myself. "Okay, firstly: don't tell Bianca or Abby. Don't tell anyone else. The only people that are allowed to know are me, you, Amanda, Emily - at least, until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, of course."

I fucking love you, FocusTunes.

I kissed her again. It was sappy as shit, but I could finally kiss her — and not just in private, but in the broad daylight. And I wanted to do it again. So I did.

As we broke, a car turned into the lot. Students were trickling in for various before-school activities. My checklist needed completing.

"Okay, so: are we officially dating?"

"Christ, Ben. We fuck like animals, you're tapping my best friend on the side, and you're

still

such a nerd." Miranda sighed. "Yes, we're official or whatever. Want me to shout it from the rooftops?"

A little bit, yeah

. "No, just wanted to make sure. Is there anyone who will be super surprised by the fact that we're dating? Remember, other people might be surprised because they don't know...you know, just...how you feel about me."

"I dunno." Miranda thought for a moment. "Maybe some of my friends will be a little bit, but they know we're close. Why do you ask?"

"Just want to know what to expect." I smiled in reassurance as I again found the small of her back, and steered her towards the building.

I didn't know what to expect — really, I didn't. It's not like Miranda and I had gone through the habit-forming awkwardness of a relationship's infant stages. Instead, I'd just dropped her smack dab into complete, mindless adoration. Right away, Miranda was clinging to my arm as we walked, framing me into silly snaps to her friends. She finished her workout with stretches, saw my hungry gaze on her ass in the mirrors on the wall. In that

my

programming was still unchanged, I started and lifted my gaze, ready to endure a withering admonishment. Miranda only grinned.

So I looked again. And flipped my gaze over to Amanda, her round ass pronounced by the same stretch. Miranda caught my eyeline in the mirror and didn't glare or protest or seethe. She just smirked.

Can't blame a guy for looking, I guess. Can't blame him for anything anymore.

We ran into Emily before homeroom — again, it was all scripted, planned out. Miranda wrapped Emily in a big hug and began treating her as warmly as she always had. Emily apologized for "being a bitch" about Miranda's new relationship with me. The girls kissed and made up - wait, no, that last part still stayed in my fantasies.

With Emily, Miranda, and Amanda compelled, secured, and compliant, I was now dating one of the hottest girls in school, fucking her best friend, and had another banging 10 on the side. I had finally done it. All of my girls were aligned, willing, and smitten with me.

Save for one — because of course, things are never that easy. Heidi had returned to school, looking cute as ever with her copper hair teased into loose curls, a tight maroon top emphasizing the porcelain whiteness of her skin.

Since Heidi now "liked" that I was seeing other girls — emphasis on the plural there — she wasn't surprised to see Miranda and I, hand in hand, smiles and smiles. Her gaze lingered on me — a bit of longing, a bit of disappointment, a bit of jealousy. I was far more brash, feeling much like the king of my little world — I gave her a slow once-over, making sure she saw me check her out. She blushed and looked away; I smiled to myself. She wasn't there yet, but she would be soon. She liked that I fucked other girls now; and she still liked me. Nothing I did was gonna turn her off from me anymore.

Did I have a plan for Heidi? Not really. Not yet at least. I knew I wanted to treat her with more...is respect the right word? Honor? There was no more respect or honor in my business. Put it this way: I was content to exclude her from any major edits. I had only just finished tidying up my Miranda mistakes — no reason to go making any new fires that I'd have to put out.

I was ready to chill.

Miranda was...

not

ready to chill. As the morning went on, I quickly learned that being Miranda's boyfriend meant making lots of plans. She had a cousin's wedding in two months and wanted to make sure I was free to be her plus-one (hopefully not). Homecoming was only weeks away and she hadn't gotten a dress, or decided which afterparty we were going to (I had literally never attended the homecoming dance in three years of high school). Breanne wanted us to go on a double date with her and Zach (absolutely fucking not). Beach day on Saturday!

I was actually kinda fine with that last one. Wardrobe-related reasoning. Would take too long to explain.

"Okay, if I promise to do the beach day thing, can I get something in return?" I huffed when Miranda finally took a breath.

"You have something in return," she said brightly. "Me!"

"Yes, and I'd like you."I smiled back. "Tonight."

"Tonight?" She tapped her chin. "I'm not sure I'm free tonight."

"Why not?"

"Ugh!" she sighed, leaning against her locker and furrowing her brow. "I have fucking tutoring. You remember that nerd that gives me free calculus lessons for the chance to stare at my tits for a couple of hours?"

"Hey! I get NFL tickets out of it, too."

"Either way, I just don't know if I'll have time for my boyfriend tonight - I'll probably be stuck with that geek for forever." She cast me a knowing glance. "Though..."

"Though what?"

"Oh, nothing..." She tapped her chin now, her eyes still a-twinkle. "I'll just go to tutoring tonight and...see what happens."

"See what happens?" I parroted.

"Gotta go, gonna be late for first block!" A peck on the cheek, a flip of her hair, and she was halfway down the hallway before I knew what hit me.

-

I slid into first block only a minute late, my tardiness hardly a care for the bleary-eyed Prof. McHallen — she had twins at home. Focusing in class, already a vestigial habit in my academic efforts, had become ever the more difficult with the fantasies swimming actively in my mind. Daydreaming, as you can imagine, acquires a new vividness when daily life is a fantasy land.

In my boredom, my hungry eyes quickly took a scan of the room. All I could think about was fucking Miranda later today — taking her back to the public bathroom she'd sucked me off in and bending her over the sink so I could watch her face in the mirror scrunch in ecstasy as I made her cum. And when all you're thinking about is fucking, the long legs of the field hockey captain and fat ass of the goth chick get you salivating.

You'd think, with every girl at your disposal, you'd be picky, focusing on only the hottest ones. But it turns out, when every girl is at your disposal, you lust for every girl instead.

I was hard beneath my pants for the second time before noon. With no relief since last night. Or in the immediate future. Fuck.

...

Ah, double fuck. Was I really about to go jack off in the fucking school bathroom just to get through the day? This wasn't eighth grade anymore. (Not that I was doing that in eighth grade.)

I unlocked my phone in my lap and tapped over to my Catan folder, ever the impregnable fortress. Quick check on teach, quick check on angles from other students...no chance anyone was seeing this. Great.

I thumbed through my growing portfolio. The nude Miranda had sent last weekend, artistic, classy. Emily with her pantyless pussy exposed, cute, risky. Amanda, covered in my cum, with Emily's tongue dragging across her tits to collect it. Not exactly cute or classy, but boy did it stir my blood.

I pulled open my messages. My last two texts were to Emily and Amanda. Decisions, decisions. I hadn't solicited a sexy school selfie from Amanda yet, so I figured she was due.

B: Go to the bathroom and take a picture for me. Tits out. Make sure your face is in —

Wait wait wait. Horny brain is foggy brain. Better slow this down.

B: incoming important text. Make sure only you can see your phone right now.

Send. Okay. That's better. Take a beat. Aaaaaaand...

B: Go to the bathroom and take a picture for me. Tits out. Make sure your face is in it, and that nobody sees you take it.

There we go. That's safer. Clean commands, too. A response came a few minutes later.

A: OMW!

I surreptitiously reached under my desk and gave my cock an anticipatory squeeze.

B: Have you ever done anything like this for a boy?

A: OMG! No way

B: Good. That's what I wanted to hear.

A: I guess this is another first for me with you ;P

I didn't respond — mostly to punish the clunky phrasing. (Don't let incessant texting kneecap your magniloquence, kids.) Nevertheless, the photo came a minute later: Amanda, the tip of her tongue peeking out from behind her smile as her free hand pulled up both the hem of her sweater and the cups of her bra, heavy tits hanging unencumbered. She was standing dead center in an unoccupied bathroom, her selfie taken in the mirror. The risk filled my head with a sharp panic; my dick didn't seem to mind as much.

B: Be more careful next time, anyone could have walked in.

A: sorry! I thought I'd be quick enough if they did.

A: do you need anything else?

B: No. Delete all these texts.

B: Oh, and nice photo.

Ugh. While FocusTunes made nude solicitation so much easier, it sure didn't work the same magic on suave nude responses.

"Oh, and nice photo."

Fuck you.

I gave another quick glance around the classroom before peeking back down at the photo. God, that woman had some huge fucking tits. I could see the veins on them from here. Dastardly ideas swarmed in my mind — all of Amanda's promises, her dirty words summoned from innocent lips, on what she'd do with those tits for me.

I was up, out of my seat, and excused to the bathroom before I could remind myself that I was 100 percent fucking Miranda in like, eight hours.

Back to my texts I went, this time to Emily.

B: Incoming important text. Make sure only you can see your phone rn.

In the next text, I attached the photo of Amanda.

B: send me a photo hotter than this one, and I'll brainwash you into cumming whenever you're spanked.

I was in the stall, pants around my ankles, beating off to the photo of Amanda's tits by the time Emily responded.

E: holy shit

E: one second

I did as she asked, edging until I got the notification: not over text, but on Snapchat. New snap from Emily Brooks? First ever snap from Emily Brooks. I tapped it open.

It was a selfie of her, taken in class, fully clothed. With her was Miranda, also fully clothed. Both were making silly faces: tongues out, eyes scrunched, faces framed by peace signs and hands under chins.