Mind-Controlled by Her Campus Rival

"That son of a bitch," I gasp in anger as I look at the graffiti within the bathroom stall. Anger seems to boil out of my 19-year-old female body at the sight of the vulgar depiction of myself that someone drew in marker in this boy's bathroom stall here in the Digital Technology building on campus. And I know who did it too. This time he's not going to get away with it.

I'm not worried that I'm a female inside the men's restroom because the building is empty. It's always empty on Saturday afternoons which is when I use the lab. So I take my time staring at the graffiti, letting my anger rise more and more.

The graffiti shows a crudely drawn image of me, naked and bent over. On either end of my image are what are supposed to be professors that teach here, each with a comically large penis. I know who these characters are supposed to be because above each one is a name. Those penises are supposed to be, well, sexually using me. And there's a speech bubble coming from my image that says, "This is why I get the grants and no one else does!"

Ricky did this. Really reeky Ricky. The little cocky shit is so confident and full of himself that he even left his initials at the bottom as there's an "RR." And at the top, the fucker put a title to the drawing calling it "Lara Jetson's Grant Application Process."

My name is Lara and yes, I have received a few grants here but not because of any sexual favors or sexual intercourse with anyone. I got those grants because I had a great idea or experiment and applied for them in the proper way. I can honestly say I never did anything like blackmail or leading people on, but following the rules when I applied. I was able to prove just how valuable my programs or ideas could be and the Technology Grant Committee agreed. Heck, one of them is a new program nation-wide that will be able to pinpoint food from grocery stores that is 48 hours from expiration that is statistically not going to be sold so it could be pulled and given to the homeless.

Ricky is a rich asshole that's been given everything his entire life. Sure, he's smart, extremely smart, but he's such an asshole. Out of everyone in this college, he is the only one that comes close to matching me in terms of grades or successes. But instead of being able to work together, we can't even be in the same room for too long before a fight breaks out. It's been like that since the day we met.

Furious, I exit the stall and look at myself in the mirror. My normally pale white face is very red from how upset I am. My long black hair hangs down which normally gives me what people call an angelic look, but right now makes me look more like a devil. In fact, every part of me looks upset. My body is tensed and a little hunched over, as if about to go into an MMA cage. Hell, even my boobs which have always been on the larger side look like they are ready to pound someone instead of trying to be humble and hide.

I know I should just report it and let it go. Let the college handle it. But in the end, he'll just be fined which is no matter for him because his family is rich. That's why he has been able to do so many experiments as he has no trouble with funding while I have to fight for every penny. He's been handed everything while I have to fight just to get 2

nd

hand items for my experiments.

Not this time. This time, he's gone too far. Knowing him, he's drawn these all over campus. This time I'm not going to let it go. I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago and embarrass the fuck out of him. Since the college isn't going to do anything about it, I will. And I will hurt him in the place it'll hurt the most...his pride.

5 minutes later, I'm on the campus bus. You see, I know where Ricky lives and big surprise, it's at a frat. It's one of the dumber frat on campus, probably the only one that would take him, but that's because they tolerate him because of his 4.0 GPA and the fact that he's rich. His family probably pays the rent for the house and supplies all the booze.

And you know what I mean by a dumb frat too. It's the place with the yard that always has beer cans and liquor bottles out, making it look more like a redneck playground than a place for higher learning. And I think they made it a by-law that if the frat isn't having at least one party a day, they have to close down. This is the sort of frat that is proud of its' drop-out rate as it's the highest on campus.

Finally, I get off the bus as I am dropped off on Frat's Row, which is where most of the frat houses are. Stomping down the sidewalk, I head right for his frat passing by frat after frat. Ricky's is the last frat on the road and even from this distance I can see that they are having a party. I know this because I can feel the bass from the music not to mention smell the cheap alcohol. I mean, come on, it's what, 2pm? How can they drink when the hot sun over head?

When I get closer, I see a large crowd in the front yard. Not just large, but huge. It's a mixed crowd filled with both men and women and I'm guessing it is an open party as I spot quite a few that have nothing to do with the frat. The closer I get to it, the more impressive this party looks as I'm sure many concert promoters would love to have this many people attend. I mean, this is just the front yard, no telling how many people are inside the house or in the backyard.

"YOU!" I yell with all of my furious anger the moment I walk into the yard and see him. He's in a small group, talking to three other frat boys, all with a bottle of cheap beer in their hands. With my yell, most of the people here turn and look at me. As I stomp towards him, people actually get out of my way at seeing how pissed I am. Only when Ricky sees me, he smirks as if enjoying the sight of me upset.

"A friend told me about the little drawing you left," I growl as I reach within a few feet of him and his idiot friends.

"That's right, a friend. I know you probably never head of that word before. You see, that's someone that likes you for you instead of pretending to like you because you have money. And that drawing was pathetic. Anyone that looks at it knows what a limp-dick you are as that's the closest to sex you can get without having pay some poor woman to white knuckle her way through the act with you," I berate him with everyone going quiet to listen. They even lower the music so people can hear.

Some people chuckle at my words. Other actually start to laugh but try to pass it off as coughs. A few jeer and to put a cherry on top, a large group of women laugh. Their laughter cuts through the air like a knife as it's very clear they know how true my words are.

This effectively wipes the smirk off his Rickey's and replaces it with a look of horror/anger. His face even goes slightly red as he knows everyone is laughing AT HIM. If he actually had a bit of courage I might be scared a coward like him might strike me, but he's far too cowardly for that.

So I keep going off on him, making sure he'll regret drawing those pictures. Some of the things I say are telling everyone about the rumor he had to pay off the janitor who caught him trying to sneak inside the women's restroom or how the campus corner store had to specialty order extra-small condoms just for him as he's the only one that uses them.

Ricky stands there and takes all of it while his face gets redder. The best part is when a couple of the guys that are in his group laugh and ask, "really bruh?" at some of the things I say. I mean, Rickey normally acts like he's 7 foot tall and is built when he's really 5'8 and weights maybe 160.

I stop berating him so I can catch my breath and let the building laughter echo around. Now it's me who is smirking while he looks utterly pissed. I think what got to him is when I suggested that he wasn't man enough to say anything but that he'll get his father to send the company lawyer to sue me for small-penis humiliation of their client.

"I bet that felt reallllllly good to say, huh?" Ricky finally says. Only instead of sounding upset, he sounds only slightly annoyed. I will say this surprises me. I thought for sure when he did say something, he would have an adult-sized fit. But no. Instead, he then takes a sip of his beer as if not caring about being emasculated in front of all of his so-called friends.

"I am actually happy you are here Lara," he tells me once he's finished with his sip. Now he looks oddly calm, as if he needed that sip of cheap beer to calm himself.

"You see, there's been one experiment I've been working on all year that I've never got to test," he tells me, acting as if we are friends instead of bitter enemies.

"You on something, or are you really this stupid?" I ask him, feeling very unnerved by this calm demeanor. I mean, he should be yelling and screaming at me. That's what he normally does when we fight. He starts by calling me stupid and trying to point out flaws in my work, which then devolves into him making fun of my body. The best insult I think he's ever said was calling me "two-boobs," as if that is some sort of bad thing.

"I told you all about it, right?" Ricky then asks the guys that are for some reason still hanging around him. No doubt because this is better entertainment than Netflix. They look at him and shrug as if saying "I don't know."

"Yeah, y'all know, it's the brain wave one," he clarifies. After that each of them seems to light up as they clearly remember. A moment after that, one of the guy's eyes open wide as if surprised. He then becomes downright excited as he starts to exclaim, "You're joking," or "Oh shit!" This makes Ricky smile a very evil looking smile. Then he turns his attention back to me.

"I thought the experiment up after reading an article about how vets and animal caretakers will sometimes play certain music and sounds to calm animals down. They've found that certain sounds have a pacifying effect on the brain in these animals, forcing it to become docile and not aggressive," Ricky explains, still oddly acting as if we are friends.

"You've lost it. Not surprising from a little coward like you," I tell him. As I have done what I wanted to do, I turn to walk away. He'll know that all these people are going to share what they saw and heard. That everyone saw the real him, not the version he pretends to be by paying people to like him. And that will spread all over campus.

"You actually helped me with this experiment, not that you wanted to," Ricky then comments as I turn. Confused by this, I look at him to see he's pulled out his cell phone. He taps away as if searching for something. I have a feeling that in a moment he's going to show me a picture of him having sex, or maybe a bad photoshop of me having sex with something stupid.

"Remember the alpha/beta-wave test experiment Professor Bins did last year? You know that god-awful stupid one where the volunteers went and wore that stupid headset so he could try to map everyone's brainwaves? God what a waste of time, but I did find that he left all those files on the network," Ricky explains as he plays with his cell.

"Here we go," he says and his face lights up as he finds whatever it is he was looking for. His cell then begins to play music. Well, I call it music, but not many people would. To this, I roll my eyes and begin to walk away again. At first it sounds like a bad Drum And Bass track from the 90s. Then it has a weird sort of choppy whirling sound, much like someone sing into a fan while driving with the windows down.

"You are such a-" I start to say as I walk away but suddenly forget what I was going to say. A very, very odd feeling comes over me which makes me stop walking. It comes over me like the first time I ever tried weed. Just sort of rolls over my brain.

All at once everything is both dulled and amplified as I feel oddly relaxed. I tell myself I need to panic because I must have been drugged, but for some reason I can't feel worried. I mean, I feel that I know I should be worried, but just can't make myself feel it. Maybe because I know I haven't eaten or drunk anything here, so there's no way I could be drugged.

"Turn around Lara...and put your hands on your tits," Ricky then orders. At this, I feel a flash of anger, and I do turn around but it's to punch him in his face. Only I get a horrible surprise. Both of my hands are on my breasts. I'm clutching my own boobs on the outside of my shirt. I...how? I didn't do that. I mean, I didn't even feel myself do it. I only knew it happened because I feel my boobs get grabbed.

"I could explain my experiment, how I deconstructed your brain waves to find what sounds pacifies the different parts of the brain, but it's very technical and I doubt a stupid bitch like you could understand it," Ricky then says. To this, his friends laugh. Only now they are laughing at me.

I begin to feel small traces of panic now as something isn't right. I mean I can't put my hands down. My brain tells them to, and I want to do it, but they don't move. I can feel my hands, just like I can feel the way they are holding my boobs...but I can't move them. Just like I can't turn around and run.

"Dude, you're shitting us right now right? She ain't really, you now, like brainwashed right?" One of Ricky's drunk frat boy friends asks in that familiar drunkenly excited manner.

"As long as she hears these sounds," Ricky answers, holding up his cell which is still playing that song. To this his frat boy friends laugh and clap him on the back.

"Well now, I say let's test it. What should we have her do that we know she wouldn't normally do?" Ricky asks them. It's now I see that nearby people have turned to see what is happening from all the laughter. Since the fight was over, most everyone went back to their own conversations, but this is quickly becoming interesting to them again. To this, I want to yell out for help. To tell them to do something. To call the police.

"Oh, easy, make her do a titty drop," one of the frat boys suggest, the one that hasn't looked away from my chest since I grabbed my own boobs. My mouth drops open in response to this, but I can't close it. Like I did it in reaction but now since it is done, I can't move it.

"You heard him bitch, drop those fat titties. Show everyone here what you got," Ricky then orders, saying it in such a way that seems to imply I'm stupid.

My mind flares and I go to say, "fuck you, I'm never doing that," but that's not what happens. My face goes pale as I feel the movement. Then I look down. There I see my hands release my breasts and reach for the bottom of my t-shirt.

I fight to stop them, I really fight, but my hands move independently of my thoughts. I'm forced to watch as they grab the bottom of my shirt and lift upward to show my bare stomach. They keep going until I feel my fingers reach my bra, where they dig under each bra cup.

My bra is yanked up along with my shirt by my own hands. I feel my bra scrape against both of my DD breasts as they are freed and exposed. They bounce free completely exposed not just to Ricky but to everyone of the dozens and dozens of people here.

Time seems to slow as I feel every tiny movement of my breasts. The way their weight falls, the way they jiggle, the way they bounce, everything. I even feel the light breeze move and the heat of the sun on them.

My face burns red as I stand here, holding up my own shirt and bra to the one person I hate more than any other. Ricky is seeing my breasts. Really-reeking-Ricky is getting to see my tits. I think I rather have a creepy old man molest me than every let him see them. Yet as much as I want to, I can't stop doing it.

In a daze I can feel everyone looking at me. Then my nipples get hard, very hard. I tell myself it's from whatever he's doing because it isn't because I like this. That I like this very public showing of my own breasts.

After what feels like 5 hours passes, but is really only a single second, every guy at the party seems to explode in cheers. People clap, cheer, laugh and hoot and holler...all while I'm stuck standing like this as if I was on that old porn series "Girls Gone Wild." And as this happens, Ricky looks me dead in the eye and smirks that confident smirk.

"Shake them, give us a good show bitch," Ricky then orders, putting accent on the word "bitch." At once I feel my shoulders start to roll and my breasts begin to jiggle and then shake. Once again, the crowd cheers and hollers like before but louder. Only now I see many of the women looking at me in disgust as if I should have more respect for myself. In fact many of the guy and girls look away with either a disappointed or appalled expression.

I feel stunned again as I realize everyone thinks I'm the one doing this. Outside of Ricky and his few frat friends, everyone doesn't know that I'm being forced. They'll think that I'm some sort of whore that is getting off on doing this.

The anger I had is all but gone as I feel scared. Truly scared. I can't move. It's like I'm trapped in my own body like a computer issuing prompts. And then Ricky steps forward towards me, sending fear into me. Only since I still feel dazed, I know it isn't the level of fear I know I should be feeling.

"This is payback you stupid bitch," I hear Ricky whisper into my ear so no one else can hear. Then the creep actually chuckles. Chuckles right in my ear, not letting anyone else see it.

"Payback for all the times you made me look stupid, all the times you proved me wrong, all the times you humiliated me. I'm going to make sure you remember this forever," he whispers and now I hear his anger, only it's not anger but rage.

"Hey, she just said she wanted to get naked!" Ricky suddenly yells out to everyone in a horrible acting performance. To this, there's a huge reaction as it is clear the crowd wants to see it. Only I feel my heart sink. I know I should be cold with fear and begging for him not to do this, but I don't. Whenever I really try to concentrate, I just hear that fucking song from his cell.

"I bet you are wondering how this could get worse, for in a minute I am going to make you get naked so everyone here gets to see you in your birthday suit. I'll tell you how it can get worse. One...I am going to fuck you. Yes. Me. I'm going to be sticking my cock in that pussy, in your mouth and shoving it up your ass. I'm going to fuck you repeatedly and you won't be able to stop me. But...the real reason things could get worse...and this is the best part to me..." Ricky says in that whisper that only I can hear.

"Lara, become very sexually aroused right now," he orders in a whisper. At his words I feel my body instantly react. My eyes widen as it doesn't make any scientific sense. None of it makes any sense. But I feel my body reacting. I do feel myself becoming more and more aroused, to which my body gets warmer and warmer. And there's no use denying it now...I'm wet.

Taking a deep breath as I feel how incredibly aroused I am, I know he was right. He's going to do so many horrible acts to me and he's going to make me enjoy it. Oh hell. There's nothing worse than that.

"Take your clothes off, take your clothes off, take your clothes off," Ricky begins to say but in a way that it's a chant. Sure enough, everyone picks it up. Soon most of the crowd is chanting this, making sure that most of the neighborhood will hear it.

If I had control of myself, I know I would be crying at them moment. They all think I'm doing this because I want to, only they don't see that Ricky keeps his cell close to me so I can always hear that fucking song. They don't know what he's really doing.

Again, I try to stop myself. I try to force my arms down. But instead they lift upward, taking my shirt and my bra over my head. It takes a moment to remove my shirt and bra from overhead as my hands are very uncoordinated so they are having a hard time. They do manage to pull both my shirt and bra off completely, leaving me completely topless.