The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Fascination Uniformed

By Mr. Scade

Chapter 2: Flashes of Obsession

Mister Frederic’s hands were fidgety and trembling; his fingers rubbing the hardwood and all but clawing at the table with his nearly-gone fingernails. With his shoulders pushed back, his head hidden between them, and eyes twitching with unreadable emotion, no student of his dared comment or snicker or make a single sound. Experience told his students to never provoke the ire of their teacher, and all for the better. It had been a difficult lesson to teach, but everyone eventually learned that when the calm and level-headed person looked about to burst, you didn’t want to be the pin to puncture the balloon. The air in the beige-painted classroom was thick with apprehension, boredom, and dread.

Eventually Mister Frederic took a deep breath and straightened, hands becoming fists. His body language was one to impose. With another sigh he grabbed a pile of papers on his desk and hid his expressions behind them. His voice was the nice gift-wrap on a horrible present, as he started calling out the names on the exam sheets. Many winced when his voice filled the room; there was acid in the way he called out specific names, acid and frustration and anger. He didn’t let it show, however. He let his students think what he was feeling, let them think and imagine and come up with worse scenarios than anything he could offer, and let fear feed their worries. No matter how well he could wield the inherent fear all students had for their teachers, there was nothing like letting the students wield that fear and create horrible things. He believed it made teaching easier, and better.

* * *

Hildegarde Canto tensed when her name was called. She rose with a sigh, feeling some eyes on her back; those were few, and were the only ones interested in what was happening, and yet she still held her head high and strode with no emotion showing. She had a reputation to maintain. Mister Frederic handed Hildegarde her test, but didn’t let go when she took it. He stared at her, a blank, wide-eyed stare that ate at her conscience; no word came from his lips. There was no need. She balked, and skulked back to her seat, tail between her legs.

She sank into her chair at the very back of the room, and allowed herself one glance at her test score. Hildegarde groaned and threw the test into her bag. As the paper slid soundlessly into the mess of notebooks, crumbled papers, and forsaken pencils that was her backpack, Hildegarde laid her head flat on the desk. The decision to ignore her fairly poor performance lately was easy enough, and it shamed her.

Hildegarde had once being a top student, with perfect grades, and a passion for studying; yet it all changed when she came into this hole of a school. Her grades took a plunging fall, and her interests could not be focused on what lay inside the school’s halls. She looked around the classroom, noting for the millionth time the peeling paint and the burned-out lamps overhead, one of the fans was missing, too. Experts say that the environment affects how people perform, and Hildegarde agree wholeheartedly. Her only comfort was that she was not alone; just as she had plummeted when she reached high school, so had her classmates’. She sometimes hoped they were doing poorly, just barely getting the grades required to move up the ladder, but she wasn’t that blind. They felt apathy towards anything that had to do with education, especially in a school that had nothing in its collective mind but disdain for young people. And who wouldn’t? The place was a rat hole.

But Hildegarde wasn’t like that. No; unlike most of her classmates, she knew that everything they tried to force down her throat was as useful as concrete to a bird. Oh, it was interesting and useful to know some accountancy, and chemistry, and biology; but in the end how many times would she use organic chemistry when dealing with day-to-day choices? How often would she need to use trigonometry when driving to work? Would she use physics in her designs? Would she attempt to fuse molecular biology with music? Could be. That was Hildegarde’s issue with school. All of it was a huge perhaps, a gigantic maybe, a gargantuan could-be! She didn’t yet know exactly how her life would turn out, and chances were she wouldn’t know for another five years. Yet they treated the subjects with such a facsimile of certainty it was scary, not to mention deceiving. Hildegarde only knew her path was a creative one, but creativity was infinite and the creative fields all but immeasurable. And yet no one was nudging and polishing her skills in that way.

All of this is useful and useless at the same time, she thought with a groan. They all were victims of the environment; evolved organisms completely adapted to a school that hadn’t seen a great teacher in many, many years. Or a janitor, for that matter.

Suddenly there was a light hand on her shoulder.

Hildegarde tensed, her eyes reflexively taking a look that would’ve left anyone staring into them sobbing loudly. Even her mother sometimes shied away from that stare; filament-thin flints of black against a field of burnished gold. It was a stare to burn and freeze at the same time. Everyone but the owner of that soft caress on her shoulders shied away, and for that she was glad. The world might be a burning nightmare out of a Bible short story and Hildegarde the cause of it, but Martie would never abandon Hildegarde.

“How bad was it?” Martie spoke, her voice carrying smiles and giggles that everyone had yet to hear. In fact, her whole body seemed to be laughing at a joke only she could read. Martie cocked her head to the side, her short, layered, black and green hair spilling over her right ear. Her legs looked small in the flowing, long skirt she wore, and somehow the baggy shirt she wore somehow made her look mature instead of flippant and distracted. It was like looking at a character from a book, not a real person. Martie’s skill at impressions was something Hildegarde envied.

A smile took over Hilde’s face, and she hid it with a shrug and an animal-like sound. No need to let Martie know how happy she made her feel. “Another shameful mark, as my mother would put it.” She was silent for a moment, paying some attention to the slow and haunted procession walking to and from Mister Frederic’s glare of shame. He called names with his poisonous words, and the few who went with a sprint, believing to have done well, returned with hunched shoulders. “At least I am not the only one.” She added, with a partial laugh. We’re the future, and the future is grim. God, I sound like a hag!

Martie’s eyes scanned the room, and for a second they seemed to stare at something not quite in the classroom. There was so much to that stare. She clasped her hands behind her back, and slowly cocked her head to the other side. “And I think I am the only one who did alright.”

Hildegarde raised an eyebrow.

Martie smiled in a mocking and delightful way. “I didn’t fail, that’s what I will tell you.” She winked. “Nothing more.”

Hildegarde tried to make sense of the statement, but new better. It was pointless to try to understand Martie. She sighed in defeat.

Martie’s hand rubbed Hildegarde’s shoulder affectingly. “Oh, come on, Hilde. You know trigonometry isn’t really that important when you get down to it. At least not for us.” A pause and Martie crouched down. She was a tall girl, and even crouching she was half a head above Hilde’s chair. “What’s the matter, Lizardeyes?” The question came out of nowhere and cut straight to the heart. Hildegarde’s eyes twitched and she looked away.

“What do you mean?” Hildegarde said, suddenly paying attention to her fingernails.

Martie’s mouth was a thin line. “You’ve never been good at math, but you’ve never been one to fail so often. Remember that trick you had for memorizing enough information for just one test?” Martie chuckled. “Lizardeyes always has a trick up her sleeve.”

“You haven’t called me that in a while.” Hildegarde whispered, feeling the world become a little bit brighter and her worries ebbing away, before her lips turned into a thin line. “I have been… distracted lately.” Martie had to try harder to make those worries disappear.

Martie smirked, letting out a short laugh. “You’re always distracted.” She turned her head as Mister Frederic’s voice filled the room. “We’ll talk later, okay?” And with that, Martie returned to her seat.

Hildegarde straightened and looked forward with passable interest. “This will be interesting.” She whispered with a grin. She quickly hid it.

Mister Frederic took a deep breath, placed a couple of papers on the desk, and then gave the whole class a stare to chill the blood. It had little effect.

“I am not going to say anything.” He said in a barely audible voice. “You know why you have failed, and God knows it is not because of me, if the results are to believed.

“Some get good grades. Some bad. It happens. But you are… bah! I won’t say anything.” He threw his arms up in the air and turned his eyes away. “You figure out what I am saying.” He sat down and pulled out a couple of papers out of his bag. “But hear this: anyone that has more than four failing grades and fails next week’s test… I assure you, you will see me for a long, long time.” He looked around the room, at each student in turn, and then settled his eyes on his papers. “Do as you wish until the end of class.”

Hildegarde frowned; she had hoped for a pointless, one-sided rant that would amuse her for the rest of the day. Can’t expect him to be inspired all the time, I guess. She looked to her right to find Martie standing right next to her. Hildegarde nearly jumped. Startled, she looked at her friend, wondering when she had walked back from her seat.

“So, what has you all distracted? More than usual, that is.” That cocked-head stare was back, and it made Hildegarde feel like a fish in a tank. Martie spoke fast, not letting her say a word.

Hildegarde left her seat, and sat down on the floor. Martie did the same. The two stared at each other for a second, before Hildegarde rolled her eyes.

“Nothing.”

Martie slapped Hildegarde. It was a tickle of skin on skin, but it made Hilde jump slightly, thoughts gone, eyes wide.

“Don’t do that,” Martie said just before Hilde could say anything.

“Don’t do what?” Hilde brushed her cheek with her fingers.

“Hilde, whenever something’s bothering you, you will call me and say you want to talk about it, but instead you will detour the conversation and talk about something else—usually about figurines. Quite frankly, it is tiring and childish and offensive.” Martie said with a low voice that sounded almost menacing. “I worry about you, and all I get is a rude dismissal? Why, Hilde, that is something Gricelda would do.” Martie’s expression quickly changed into a knowing smile. The smile needed a wink to compliment it.

Hildegarde felt something tighten in her chest, and felt her pupils become flints of black against gold. Her fingers were shaking.She took a deep breath, drowning anger with oxygen. That name, the owner of that name... Being compared to that harlot made her skin crawl. She turned to look at her friend. The smile was gone, the face a mask of hard stone.

“Okay...” Hildegarde whispered, closing her eyes. When she opened them, Martie’s face had softened considerably. Oh, Martie, if only you knew what an evil genius you are. Hildegarde thought, realising that her friend had deliberately angered her. Thinking that made her smile, and smiling made her realise that the anger she just felt wasn’t entirely related to the mention of Gricelda’s name. Stress was escalating, and her dreams were starting to take a toll on her.

Her fingers pressed against her thighs, trying not to give into the desire to punch a wall. “You know about my fascinations, right?” Hilde’s eyes opened; two thin, black lines in a sea of gold. One could get lost in those eyes. “The ones I have for uniforms, I mean. Not the... other ones.”

Martie’s broad smile soon turned into a slight curve of her lips. “I prefer the other fascinations, to be honest. Really, Lizardeyes, uniforms? Boring! The ones about theatre and masks? Now, that I like.” The broad smile was back, accompanied with a breathy laugh.

“That is not a fascination—just an interest. Like figurines!” Hildegarde rolled her eyes. She trusted Martie with her secrets, but at times like this she regretted confining in her at all. Why she had told the theatre aficionado that she really, really liked masks and several theatre concepts to the point that, sometimes, they could be exciting from a sexual point of view. But not like uniforms. Never like uniforms.

“Well... I am not talking about those. As I was saying: uniforms.”

“Yes. Boring.”

Hildegarde paused. “Do you want to know or not?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well... Uniforms. I—”

“Why don’t you talk about the masks?”

Hildegarde frowned.

“What!? It’s not my fault you want to talk about the boring things.”

Hildegarde crossed her arms and gave Martie a flat stare like stone.

“Okay, okay... I won’t interrupt you anymore. I do want to know.“

Hildegarde raised an eyebrow, staring more insistently.

“Promise.” Martie raised her right hand.

Hildegarde realised she had a dry throat. She uncrossed her arm, swallowing. She took a deep breath before saying, “I... bought some uniforms.”

Martie raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“And...” Hilde groaned. “Well, I got uniforms and...” She hit the side of her face with closed fists, seeing if that would get her to speak. She dropped them angrily against her thighs, groaned again, and then managed to speak. “I bought mind-controlling uniforms.”

Hildegarde immediately looked around the room, meeting the stares of two persons that were sitting about a meter away from her. She had groaned a bit too loudly. With no effort at all, Hildegarde’s eyes gave the inquisitive classmates a look that they knew meant they had to look away and ignore whatever they had heard, or else. Smiling to herself at the reputation she had sown, Hildegarde settled back against the wall, and braced herself for Martie’s incoming rant.

“I find it very interesting that I actually believe you.” Martie said.

Hildegarde straightened at that remark. “You do?” She asked incredulously.

Martie nodded. “Of course. You are not one to lie, not like this at least. And you hesitated to talk about it – that means you’re being honest. So, mind-controlling uniforms?” She said the last in a whisper, as if afraid someone would steal the concept.

Hilde leaned closer, her heartbeat increasing, the weight on her shoulders lessening. “Well, I don’t know if they actually brainwash you but... the website I bought them from was pretty convincing. They sell all manner of outfits and items that they say would affect how you think and act.”

That gave Martie a pause. “Wait- A website? A company sells these?”

Hilde nodded. “I think so.”

Martie cocked her head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t you find it strange that a website sells mind-control objects like that? Out in the open? If they actually have mind-controlling items... why the fuck sell them like that? Doesn’t make sense, does it? And who would allow them to sell it?” She tapped her forehead with two fingers.

Hildegarde’s mouth opened but no sound came. She had not considered that. Why would a company that has that sort of technology sell it out in the open, and as erotic paraphernalia? Didn’t make much sense. All of a sudden, the stress evaporated. Interesting how easy things could be, sometimes.

“Heh. You just made me realize that it could’ve really been a marketing angle.” Hilde smiled, laughing to herself.

“’Could’ve been’?” Martie scratched her black and green hair. “You believe that?”

“Man, not now! I was actually believing the website. But... really, if they do make that kind of stuff why the hell sell it as items off a sex shop? Makes no sense!” She laughed against her hand. “Unless it was a marketing angle, of course.

Hildegarde started to laugh harder, as if the joke had been that good, or if she even felt amused. In reality she wanted to scream and cry. Scream at herself for believing something like that, and to cry because, it seemed, her fantasy would remain a fantasy. Martie smiled and chuckled; she couldn’t see things as Hildegarde saw them. And yet, even if it pained her, Hildegarde had to accept that a company that sold mind-controlling items was out of synch with reality.

“Sex shop?” Martie asked.

“Uh? Oh!” Hildegarde took a deep breath, containing her cackle. “Well, each outfit the store sells seems to be a sexualized version of what it is. Not the one I got, though. Mine’s a proper school uniform. Quite good, actually.” Hilde turned to stare at the air, eyes growing distant. She bit at her lip, imagining herself in the uniform.

However sad she felt about the uniform, Hildegarde did see an upside for her fantasy to remain a fantasy; if the uniform indeed had no power of its own, then she could try it on without fear of becoming someone she was not. The thought made her shiver visibly. Hilde started rubbing one hand around her hair as a way to distract herself from the scenarios in her mind.

A metallic ringing sound echoed across the entire building before it was cut off abruptly, as if a dying beast, or a machine that hadn’t been properly oiled. The class was over. Mister Frederic said something to the class, but Hildegarde didn’t hear it over the sound of her own thoughts and of everyone cheering over a day ended.

She picked up her things and watched Martie retire to her seat to do the same. Hildegarde moved as if in a dream, brow furrowed in thought, the world’s sounds muffled. Martie had made her realize that the website could be a lie and that she could try on the uniform without fearing any change, perhaps; but it also left her feeling sad, and empty. She had bought the uniforms because of the possible fulfilment of a fantasy, and now that possibility was gone, turned into a great perhaps. Maybe the website was real, maybe it wasn’t.

When did real life became like school?

Why was nothing certain?

Her pupils were a thin line against a sea of gold.

* * *

Have you heard about that town? What was its name, Plymouth? Raymouth? Faremouth?” A kid said.

“Fairmouth?” His companion asked, doubtfully.

“That’s it! Fairmouth.” The kid smiled. “Did you hear what happened in that place?”

The other boy nodded. “Yeah but… I don’t know, all seems a bit too… you know, like, unbelievable. How can something like that happen?”

The first kid shrugged. “I dunno. But if it was on the news…”

“Bah! News. Mostly conspiracy theories and babble, says my dad.”

The first kid scratched his head. “Well, if you say so. But I still think it was true. The thing and that, whatever the word was the news called it.”

The second kid was about to say something when he fell silent. He looked to the side and then immediately averted his gaze, and tried to hide his head between his shoulders. The first kid frowned and was about to say something just as Hilde planted herself before the two.

“Move.” She said, almost-golden eyes shimmering behind strands of black hair. If her voice had not moved them, then her dishevelled, angry look did. The kids parted before Lizardeyes. Hilde walked up the stairs, not bothering to look back, Martie in tow.

The two kids sat there, backs flat against the wall, staring intently at Hilde’s back.

Martie walked backwards, smiling knowingly at the kids. She cocked her head before twirling in place. She began to skip, going two steps at a time, hands behind her back, and looking at Hilde from the corner of her eye. “Those kids fear you.”

That brought a tiny smile to Hilde’s lips. “They better do. I don’t want all that work to go to waste.” She said in a cold tone.

Martie giggled, remembering an event six years ago. “One of them lusts for you, also.”

That made Hilde stop, if only for a step. Martie regarded her friend with curiosity as she turned to look at the kid’s face. She could see recognition flash over Hilde’s face. It was like seeing a machine work after years of being kept in a barn. Martie could swear she heard gears moving. Could Hildegarde Canto finally realised something about someone else person? She thought. Hilde shook her head and kept walking. After a while she looked at Martie, the angry stare replaced by a inquisitive frown. “How do you know that?”

Martie grinned. “You have your secrets. I have mine.” And I can read people better than you have ever been able to, FYI.

Hilde rolled her eyes.

The two friends walked with backpacks on their shoulders, up another flight of stairs and down a long hallway. The throng of people was thick here, with students and teachers alike clamouring the doorway to escape the confines of the Spartan school building. Hilde and Martie instead took a customary right and kept walking away from the chokepoint, not even stopping to see the place.

“What are you doing today?” Hilde said eventually, looking down the hallway.

Am I doing something? Martie wondered, staring at the ceiling with a cocked head. “Oh!” She exclaimed, eyes snapping forward. “I believe I have practice of some sort or the other in the evening.”

“’Some sort or the other?’” Hilde said in a mocking tone.

Martie frowned. “Well... You know me, always have something on, but never know exactly what it might be. Or when. Or where. I know there must be something on, it is Thursday after all!” I know there is something important! God, I am so distracted.

Martie nearly giggled when Hilde took a deep breath. The girl had so little patience sometimes!

At the end of the hallway they passed a couple of teachers talking to each other. The two girls managed to eavesdrop on the teachers complaining about the state of disrepair of some school facilities, and how their students were a lazy bunch. Martie could feel the atmosphere getting colder the closer they got to the teachers, but that could’ve been the fresh air coming from outside. Or they just get angrier when we walk closer. Anger... wouldn’t that be hot, instead? She thought as they walked past them. Teachers were always complaining, sometimes they were spot on, other times not as much. Martie shared a look with Hilde and knew that the smaller girl was thinking bad things about the teachers. She usually was vocal about such things. I gave her much to think about, it seems. Curious.

The two friends crossed a pair of rusted metal doors and were buffeted by chilling wind and scared darkened sky. The air smelled of wet earth, though it always smelled of wet earth in the old school playing ground; overgrown with weeds covering old, rusty jungle gyms, and having several pools of stagnating water—it was a dreary sight. What had once been a beautiful bed of flowers was now an improvised parking lot. The first time Martie had seen the scene she had almost cried. But the well had long since dried, and now she could barely muster a sigh at the sight.

Oh! She thought. Suddenly, a smile painted Martie’s face. Oh, that is what I have to do.

Suddenly, she heard Hilde speak. “I think we better hurry.” She said, frowning at Martie’s wide grin. “You will get wet too, Martie. What are you smiling at?”

Martie giggled. “Oh, that I just remembered I have to meet up with a friend.” A good, good, good friend. The wink she gave Hilde explained everything. “It is going to be fun.”

The two remained silent for a second.

Hilde smiled, then frowned, then smiled again. She turned to look at the sky, and frowned once more. “Good for you, Martie. Really. And kudos on getting him to agree to a time; I know I was never able to get him to. But now I have to... you know—rain.”

Martie patted Hilde’s shoulder. “Sorry, Lizardeyes, but he promised me he would show up. You know how hard is to get that fellow to agree to a meeting.” Or to anything at all.

Hilde nodded and said something about how happy she was for her.

A strong gust of chilly wind blew, and with a skip and a jump, Hilde nearly ran away, waving good luck at Martie.

Martie smiled and waved back, calmly walking towards the meeting spot.

* * *

There was something pleasant about stormy evenings that made Liv squeal with joy. She was sitting on a balcony, overlooking people running towards shelter as a fist of rain and lighting punched the earth. She smiled at a woman cursing her lack of an umbrella, rubbish bags wind-pushed against her body. Not that it would’ve done much, seeing how much it was raining.

“It rains like this all the time, and yet they still find it odd. Dumb people.” She said, turning away from her free source of entertaining and looking at her computer screen. The roll of thunder echoed in the distance.

Today she had seen Hilde at a distance, hanging out with that strange girl Martie. The two had not talked that much since their last study session, which had ended on a very interesting note. A note Liv had quite enjoyed, and laughed at. She liked to laugh, even more so now that the reasons to do so seemed to be blown away like the rubbish bags outside in the storm.

But as days turned to weeks, Liv’s curiosity had grown. It was this curiosity that allowed her to ignore how much time Hilde had spent today with Martie. That girl creeps me out. She thought.

It was the third time in the last two days Liv had visited the website. It was the ninth time she had done so since Hilde had told her about the site. At first she had laughed the whole idea off, but curiosity got to her, eventually, as it always did. Now that she was reading the descriptions she could see how her friend had believed the site. No wonder Hilde got herself swayed; the website was so clever about advertising outfits, and with this idea of control attached to them it was like honey to a fly. “What was that she told me once about control?” Liv whispered to herself. She could remember her friend once mentioning how she liked to control certain things in her life, and how it made her feel free. Liv frowned, unable to conjure the memory. Whatever it was, it was part of the reason Hilde saw the website through pink-coloured glasses. So easy to fool those who wish to be fooled.

But, then, why was Liv visiting the site so often? She knew the answer, but only accepted it reluctantly. She was starting to believe what the site offered, however painful that sounded. How would it sound if the world learned that Liv was starting to believe in a site that sold mind-controlling clothes!? Utterly silly. Yet... Well, at least nothing has picked my interest up. Yet. She thought, with the haunting knowledge that she only had to keep looking to find something appealing hanging over her head. Liv cursed herself for believing in such silly notions. I’ve been doing that a lot, recently.

“A mind-controlling school uniform.” She mused out loud, getting her thoughts away from the loneliness in her house. Lightning turned the day bright. She stared out into the distant city landscape hidden behind a curtain of rain, like actors in a play. The street bellow had flooded, turning into a river. “I can see how that would be interesting. God knows it would improve my school. And help me... help me...” Liv whispered.

Liv liked to learn. Liv liked to study, fill her mind with knowledge, new knowledge. Liv found solace in reading text books, comfort in a classroom, and joy when she managed to find something useful out of the constant droning that came out of teachers mouth. But, most of all, Live liked the certainty of school, the way things were one way and her future was engraved on stone. And yet she was in that school. How was it that her parents, militantly obsessed with education as they were, put her in a school that had weeds coming out of the tiles on the classroom floors, and teachers that didn’t know a lick of education theory was beyond her abilities.

And yet, they expected her to be the best.

Liv had to excel, she had to keep that scholarship, she had to study hard and get the best grades. Demand, demand, demand, that is all her parents did. Others would’ve come out at the wrong end of their parent’s wishes, but Liv had internalized her father’s drill sergeant-like speeches and made the best of it. She liked to study and found it relaxing, addicting even, so maybe that had something to do with it. But she also liked to play and ignore studying. The problem was that Liv found school to be tedious. Utterly boring! Yes, she liked to learn, but her school was horrible. Subjects were generic and uninteresting, and the professors teaching them obviously wanted to be somewhere else. Were she studying real history and real geography she would be completely invested in school. But no, mediocrity was the rule.

Instability at school was something she had always been able to accept. But now that things were breaking apart in her home? Liv needed stability.

Thunder rolled, as if reacting to her negative thoughts, and blessedly pulling them from those dark corners. She didn’t need to think about what was going on with her parents just then.

Liv looked down at her computer, at the purple and white uniform Hilde had described so passionately. How can she be so passionate and heated up about uniforms?. Liv had once read that uniforms affected behaviour. It had been tested and proven that school uniforms helped give the students a sense of belonging and of being students, instead of prisoners. That it helped them get into the mindset of studying and following rules. If that were true, then it would explain why Liv’s school was so unruly. A lack of uniform, and a lack of rules- no, there were rules; it was just that few bothered to follow them, and fewer bothered to enforce them, for that matter.

“Oh, how nice it would be to be in an orderly place.” She mused.

The Perfect Schoolgirl Uniform. This had been the fourth time Liv had seen the uniform, and the more she looked at it the more she liked it. It was beautiful, after a fashion. She didn’t like skirts and found trousers much more practical, but seeing such a neat skirt made her think that it would be nice to wear it. It was the combination of items that made the ensemble work for her.

Her cursor lingered on the ORDER button.

Mind control. She thought. She let her hands drop to the sides of the hammock just as a strong gust of wind slapped strands of golden hair into her eyes. She brushed them away with one hand, and immediately was hit in the face by a torrent of rain. Cursing loudly, she quickly stood up, collected her laptop, and ran inside, slamming the door behind her. The wind had picked up, and trees looked like ribbons of cloth in the air, twisting this side and that. Lightning had stopped striking the earth, but the wind made the whole spectacle more terrifying.

Liv clutched her computer to her chest. She held it on the palm of her hand, and checked to see if everything was okay. The cursor had moved and was now positioned above the X button on the browser. Liv considered again and decided to click. Soon enough her computer was turned off and resting on a dry desk.

I wouldn’t mind one, but I would rather try them before buying one of my own. She thought. Hilde said she has five and hasn’t tried any yet, maybes she won’t miss one.

The thought made her chuckle loudly. Liv, stealing from her friend? Well, not stealing, but burrowing things? It was unthinkable. Not that it had not happened before, but it was just... Liv’s train of thought trailed off. It really wasn’t any different than other things she had done before. But how bad was her current situation that she was now thinking about trying on a magical uniform to make her life better?

Liv walked around the house, sighing loudly. It was cold, messy, and dirty. She hadn’t seen anyone in there for days, and the place was starting to feel abandoned. She missed when it hadn’t been like this, but that time was long gone. The stability from that time as well.

Liv took a ceramic owl that had toppled over a desk and looked at it. She remembered that her father had bought it for her, but she hadn’t liked it and gave it to her mother instead. It ended up as part of the decoration. It was a silly thing, cartoonish and slightly disfigured, but it represented, in its own odd way, family. Slowly, Liv settled it upright on the table.

Hilde would surely not miss one uniform.

* * *

Ysolda hid her worry in well-practiced humour. She sipped a lukewarm cup of tea, spiced with some cinnamon and lemon, to hide the smile directed at her daughter. She knew Hildegarde must feel miserable, wet and cold as she was, and scared by the constant lightning strikes that had most likely made her run as fast as she could, but she couldn’t help but laugh at her daughter’s slip in judgement. Though predicting exactly when a darkened sky would fall upon the city was like winning the lottery – sometimes the sky would darken, yet the day would remain dry as bone; and other days it would darken and rain until the next moon – Hildegarde should’ve had better sense than that; the girl had an uncanny ability to predict if it was going to rain or not.

She likes to get wet, though. Oh, she does like to dance. Ysolda thought, remembering the many times she had caught her girl just standing under the rain, or walking about the yard in shorts and tee-shirt. Hildegarde looked miserable, but Ysolda could see the slight pull of muscles that spoke of a hidden smile.

“Next time take an umbrella.” Ysolda said, putting down the cup of tea on the wooden table. It made a nice sound.

Hildegarde pulled down the towel from her face, the wet hair sticking to her skin making her look like a siren. The almost-glowing eyes helped to the image. Ysolda beamed every time she saw her daughter’s eyes. She had never questioned why her Hildegarde had eyes like an alligator’s. It was one of those things that simply was. She didn’t know why, but looking at those strange eyes made her almost recall something. It felt like presque vu, knowing that there is a word you need and know, but been unable to just recall it. For some reason, whatever it was she couldn’t recall made her happy.

With a scowl that seemed to indicate she found the idea preposterous, Hildegarde said: “Are you mad!? It is more likely I am struck by lightning if I have an umbrella. Besides, with that wind...” She trailed off and then perked up. “And umbrellas are cumbersome!“

Ysolda smiled warmly, placing her right arm on the desk and her head on her hand with deliberate patience. “As opposed to being struck by lightning because you were under a storm. The umbrella is not going to attract any more lightning than any of the trees around us would. You just don’t like to carry things.” With a grin she added. “Besides, it’s most likely a tree falls on top of you than it is for a lighting to strike you down.”

Hildegarde answered that with a disturbed expression and a sound in her throat. Shaking her head, she continued drying her almost naked body until she was satisfied. With her wet clothes under her arms, and her backpack following like a dog being pulled with a chain, she hurried towards her room.

Ysolda had the good grace not to laugh. Well, not much.

Gathering herself, Ysolda decided to finish laundry so she could get back to sending yet another avalanche of emails. She wasn’t so fond of that aspect of her job, and it took her forever to go through them. Procrastination was the bane of self-employment.

The laundry room was an outdoors terrace, with a concrete basin two feet away from the rusting washing machine. The old thing was in such a state that it would crumble to pieces if moved, but it still worked perfectly. Some rain water was pooling into the laundry room, the ceiling not being designed to fend off horizontal rain. Ysolda opened the machine and started pulling out her daughter’s now clean clothes out of the machine, and putting them into a red plastic basket. One day, Ysolda thought, I’ll make her do it herself.

While pulling out Hildegarde’s clothes, Ysolda noticed something odd—Hildegarde had gotten new clothes. That made her stop. Hildegarde never bought new clothes on her own; she had to be forced into it, and nearly bound and tortured to get anything like what Ysolda held in her hands. It was incredibly strange to find a couple of pairs of pantyhose amidst her clothes – last time Hildegarde had worn nylons she had been little enough to carry on Ysolda’s shoulders. There were some long-sleeved shirts amongst the array of tee-shirts, and Ysolda thought Hildegarde must’ve got them for some school activity or other. But why she had decided for long sleeves, considering she loathed them, was beyond Ysolda. Could it be these things came in the box that arrived the other day? Ysolda shook her head. What a silly notion; Hildegarde would first sing pop music than buy clothes.

Ysolda had questioned her daughter about the box, but Hildegarde deterred the conversation every single time. Ysolda had wanted to look for the box, but never quite allowed herself to. Whatever it was, Hildegarde keep the secret close to her chest.

Shrugging, she emptied the washing machine and thought no more of it.

Thunder rumbled outside and it seemed the storm would go on forever, Ysolda started hanging out the wet laundry on a clothesline inside a room full of empty boxes and forgotten furniture.

Just as Ysolda finished she heard the sound of a car pull up at the front. Wondering who was mad enough to come around in this weather, and unannounced, she walked to greet whoever it was.

“Good evening, Ysolda.” Liv said, putting away an umbrella inside her purse.

Somewhat surprised to find Liv at the door, completely dry, and holding a pair of car keys, Ysolda let her in.

“Hildegarde didn’t tell me you were coming.” Ysolda said, with a smile.

“That is because Hilde didn’t know I was coming over. I was driving around and decided to seek asylum from the rain.” As if on cue, thunder rolled in the distance. “I really don’t want to accidentally crash into a tree. Or someone. I apologize for coming unannounced, though.”

“Oh, no need to.” Ysolda nodded, waving the apology away. “Well, she’s upstairs probably still drying herself off. She had to run under that. Took her a long time to get here.” She cocked her head towards the door.

That brought a slight smile upon Liv’s lips and only her lips. There was something off with Liv, Ysolda noticed; the fake smile not the only thing off. Usually the girl was more talkative, and jolly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t time to pry, if Liv’s body language was to be trusted. You never asked anything of someone that had that stone-set frown.

“Want anything? Tea, soda?” Ysolda asked instead.

Liv shook her head, politely. “No, thank you. Perhaps later.” And with that, she nodded and walked towards Hildegarde’s room a bit too anxious.

Ysolda stared at the girl’s back for a minute, thinking. She had never met Liv’s parents, but for some reason she had the feeling that there was something off there. Or she could be entirely wrong, and Liv was just having a bad day. Shrugging it off, Ysolda went back to the kitchen, prepared herself a cup of tea, and returned to the emails.

* * *

Liv pushed open Hilde’s door without knocking. Rude, yes, but there was no such concept between friends. Besides, it startled her friend, which is always good. She barged in and Hilde nearly jumped out of her skin. Hilde had been lying on her bed, reading a voluminous fantasy novel and was so absorbed by the wonderful world that the loud sound made her move awkwardly away from her bed. She fell with a loud thud. Liv couldn’t help but laugh, one hand against the door frame.

“Bloody fuck! What is wrong with you?” Hilde cursed, face twisted in pain.

Liv shrugged, giggling. “The list is long enough. Who knows?”

Hilde glared. “That list does not include being unable to knock on a door, or call before hand.” She looked out the window, sinking into her thoughts. “You were driving under this rain, right?” She added, thoughtfully, as she divorced herself from the floor.

Liv nodded. “It’s horrible out there – can’t see a thing, and other drivers get stupid when it rains.” That’s a good excuse. She’ll believe that.

“You mean they can get more stupid?” Hilde said with mock shock.

Liv answered with a cackle, and Hilde giggled softly as she bounced back into position on her bed. She crossed her arms under her head, closed her eyes, and simply remained silent. The blonde one frowned and, somewhat annoyed, jumped on Hilde’s bed. Hilde shrieked again.

“Shit, Liv! Let me be.” Hilde growled behind a laugh. “I want to rest.”

No, I won’t let you! Or else I will never get you out of here. Liv’s hand found a pillow. It slammed against Hilde’s arm, filling the room with a low-sounding thud.

“You will rest when I say you can rest!” Liv boomed in an overly dramatic voice, which was received by a hushing jeering in the form of another pillow. The pillow slap made her fall over on her side, laughing.

“Okay, you bloody win.” Hilde said, grinning, holding the pillow as if a bastard sword. “God knows what you had to go through outside in that rainstorm. I can entertain you, but I demand compensation!” She marked the word with a carefully planted pillow slap.

And so war was declared.

Nearly an hour passed where Liv and Hilde played as lifetime friends play; hitting each other with pillows and the occasional pseudo wrestling move. Sometimes they would get serious, actually punch and slap each other, and the sky would double its rage upon the world, as if answering to their fake combat. But they would always double over in a fit of laughter as they commented and told stories of days past. They really had no idea what they were doing, except enjoying something silly out of a childhood memory. Only when both were gasping for breath, resting their backs against Hilde’s bed, too tired to even talk, did they stop. Every couple of breaths was received by a fit of giggles as they remembered some joke or some deed of their childhood.

“Oh, shit. You remember that?” Hilde laughed, pulling herself into a sitting position, eyes closed, smile beautiful. “I got stuck in the tree for hours!”

“You took up the dare!” Liv said, eyeing her friend’s back. She reached to straighten some creases. Hilde tried to nod a thanks, but doubled over laughing.

The two laughed, slowly calming themselves down with long breaths. Liv thought about some of those memories and thought about what a good friend Hilde had been in all those years. Not that she had had much option in becoming Hilde’s friend – the girl was relentless, and once she decided she liked someone she all but chained them to her walls. And Liv didn’t regret that.

“Hey, I am thirsty.” Hilde said, suddenly standing up. She brushed her black hair with her fingers and stretched. “Do you want anything?”

Yes! Liv sang a song of victory in her head. “I doubt you have any sort of juice, do you?”

Hilde’s golden eyes moved up, thinking. “I bought some lemons—or were those limes?—the other day. I can make some quick lemonade.”

“I would love that.” Liv said, turning to look at the window. The storm had subsided, although the rain was still falling like rocks off a cliff.

“I’ll be back soon. You know where everything is.” Hilde said and walked out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked, Liv was on her feet and walking the short steps towards Hilde’s closet. Hilde had hidden the uniforms, but she knew exactly where to look. It was easy, really, considering Hilde had been hiding things in that corner, behind the shoebox towers and old board games, for years.

Silently her hands moved, as deftly as the many times she had done so when she was but ten years old and trying to see where Hilde hid her nice things.. The box she found hidden along with ribbons, bottle caps, and some girly comic books was unremarkable; actually, it looked even blander than the many colourful shoeboxes she had pushed away. But Liv knew better than to judge the contents of a box for the cardboard holding them.

They are here. Oh... they are here!

With shaking hands and a dry mouth, she pulled the box closer, closer. The box itself seemed to hum, come alive. She wondered about the possibilities, the endless possibilities and probabilities. Here, inside a cage of tree pulp was either a disappointing outfit, or the correction of society. She considered every possibility, she considered every outcome. The thoughts were powerful; the same way an idea would grow into becoming a god or goddess, the concept of the uniforms inside the box grew in Liv’s mind. That made her hands tremble, her skin tingle, her mouth dry up.

Imagine it... a perfect school. No more worrying about the scholarship...

Stability.

That steeled her resolve.

Stability.

Taking a deep breath, and banishing all doubt, Liv opened Pandora’s Box.

Liv felt as if she was buffeted by a strong gust of wind, but her hair was still, and her skin remained hot from the pillow fight. I am imagining things, she thought, her hands slowly slipping into the box. Her hands trembled an inch away from the plastic wrapped objects before Liv realised her friend could be back any minute now. In a hurry she dug inside, looking, searching, learning. Hilde had mentioned that the school uniform came wrapped in an hermetically sealed plastic bag, and that the complementary uniforms in a bag for each. If Liv wished to have the complete schoolgirl experience – and, God, did she wish it – she had to have the three uniforms. Finding the schoolgirl uniform was easy, it being loudly purple and on top of the pile. The other two uniforms were harder to find, seeing how every other package looked the same, the transparent plastic being, instead, black.

With her fingertips, Liv prodded the bags, trying to feel texture through the sleekness of plastic. She pressed her fingers and felt a pleasant jolt shoot up her arm that made her feel momentarily sleepy. Liv shook her head and chastised her imagination for being so overactive. Finding little to no difference between the two packages, Liv removed two that felt somewhat different, to her hands.

Rearranging everything as it was down to its last detail was easy for Liv. Even in her hurry she had noticed how the uniforms had been arranged; where the ribbons and comic books had been resting; in what order the shoeboxes had been piled, if any. Only if Hilde really, really, really inspected the area would she find anything different – Liv knew her friend would never double check her own room. But what if...?

She won’t check it. She never does. Had she whispered that, or thought it?

Her heart was beating fast. Liv managed to put one of the bags inside her pocket before remembering she had brought a purse. With cat-like speed she grabbed it. Hilde had been too distracted to notice it, which was a godsend. Hilde would’ve made a huge deal out of Liv having brought a purse. Suddenly freezing as she placed the uniforms in her purse, Liv realised how stupid she had been for not bringing a bag. It would’ve been less suspicious.

She will notice it, I know. She will see it and demand I show what is inside.

The blonde slipped the purse into its hiding place, turned around and walked towards the foot of the bed. Sitting on the floor, she reached for Hilde’s discarded book and started reading it, half interested, if only to look natural. Soon, very soon, she would be home trying out a uniform. But, somehow, against all logic, she knew the uniforms would work. Liv knew that she would wear the schoolgirl uniform and become... perfect. The word echoed in her mind. Perfect. It was delicious, like sweet fruit, and made her very, very flustered. She so loved the idea of platonic perfection – was fascinated by it.

The fantasies came, exciting in more than one way. She could almost feel it; like the storm outside, her thoughts were raging. She wondered how it would feel, how it would be, what would change. She blinked hard, suddenly stopping her train of thought. But at what price? What would actually happen to me if I wear one? The thought came, easily, and set out a whole new set of questions.

She shook her head. Remember why you want it, Liv. Why you want the idea of it—Stability. God, why can’t I have that?

It was just then that Hilde blessedly returned, holding two glasses filled with a clear green liquid.

“I should seriously start juicing all that fruit, you know? Would be easier to have a tankard instead of making fresh juice every time I want some.” She said, idly, walking towards and kneeling next to her friend.

Liv heard Hilde’s voice through a haze, barely making out the words, before she snapped at attention, out of her trance. She looked at Hilde’s soft face, at those devious eyes, the eyes she liked and envied. God, how did she get those, and why didn’t I get them? Duh, genetics. She got those eyes, I got these.

Her fingers wrapped around the cup and she thanked Hilde.

Hilde nodded, sat on the floor and took her book back. “You know...” She said, taking a sip of the juice.

Fuck, she knows. She fucking knows! Liv could barely keep her eyes from opening wide. Barely.

The liquid dribbled down the side of Hilde’s mouth. She had her book in one hand, and slowly raised it. “This one’s really good. You should read it.”

Liv raised an eyebrow, happy to have something to dispel the distracting ideas coursing through her mind. Her hand curled into a fist, nails digging into her skin. “Will you lend it to me?” She said, amiably.

Hilde exhaled in a laugh. “Hah! Fuck no – get your own book.” She pulled the book away from her friend, smiling.

Liv rolled her eyes, letting Hilde be Hilde.

She remained a while longer, until the storm dispelled. It wasn’t until she returned home with her query that she realized she had broken the skin on her palm with her fingernails.