The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The next time I woke up, I was in the locker room, slightly sweaty from what my feet were telling me had been about a four-mile run done while my mind was off somewhere else. I should have been accustomed to random bouts of going on autopilot, but it was still a little scary. And if that wasn’t enough, the first thing I saw was Ms. Vickie P sitting in front of the whole team with a harsh, expectant look on her face, waiting for us to report. No pressure. None at all. “Attendance report for the soccer game on Saturday?” she asked Zoom Zoom Zelda.

“Sold out,” Zoom Zoom Zelda replied proudly.

“Great! Posters?”

“On every wall on campus,” Coo Coo Coco reported.

“Great! Banners?”

“If you don’t mind the extra advertising from the used car salesmen, we’ll have an all red and blue soccer field,” Mega Mandy said with a grin.

“Great, as long as it’s just banners and no one’s required to run around in used cars,” Ms. Vickie P said after a moment’s thought.

“Oh, well, um, one did kinda offer to loan out his van to pick up North Carolina fans,” Mega Mandy said hesitantly.

“Honest Engine?”

“Yeah! How’d you know? Is he the only one who’d do something so ungreat as help out the opposing team?”

Ms. Vickie P burst out laughing and nearly fell off the stool. When she got her breath back, she said, “When you’re allowed to drive around campus, I’ll make sure you get one of his clunkers. You’ll see just how ungreat he is. I think the last time he sold a car that worked, Coach Bird was a freshman!”

We all broke into giggles, and I savored the mental image of a hapless North Carolina fan falling out of the car because they didn’t know any better, but everything went quiet the instant Coach Bird stepped up to speak. “Ladies, today is the first day of classes. You all have your schedules, I presume. Remember who you are in the ordinary world and act like that in your regular classes. You can be yourselves in the classes for your major. Be great, everyone.”

“Great!” we replied with matching smiles. All around me, my teammates did the little things that would put them into trance for class, then mechanically got up and grabbed their books. I reached into my backpack to take out my hairbrush, but Ms. Vickie P’s hand snagged my wrist.

“What’s the rush? Your first class isn’t until eleven,” she said. Without letting go of my hand, she led me into the coaches’ office. I tried not to tremble. I remembered seeing her after the last game last season, and I knew she had a terrible temper. And she hadn’t asked me about the Dawghouse. Did she have something against me that she didn’t want the coach or the rest of the team to know about?

“I, uh, um, how’d you know, Great One?” I stuttered.

“Oh, cut the crap. You know my name. Use it. I’m team captain. I gotta know where everyone is, so—” she fanned out a bunch of computer paper- “I got a copy of everyone’s schedule. Not that I woulda cared if you had class now. It’s not like you’d be missing anything important, or that you’d actually remember being in English class.”

“What if I liked English?” I countered. “What if I’d wanted to major in it?”

“I told you to cut the crap, freshman. Ms. Peggy told me you were going for the sciences before she rerouted you.”

Damn, she was good. “Okay, yeah, and there’s no point in minoring in English if you’re an MCM major. Even freshmen get bored with long, droning phrases quickly. Good thing I figured that out before making a terrible mistake.” I lifted my head and met her gaze with as much arrogant confidence as she normally brought to the table, challenging her to reveal why she’d done this.

“You did pretty good with the verbal on that bitch from Michigan State. But you do know you can’t submit her as your first semester project, right?”

“I wouldn’t try to. Teeny Tammy did all the work,” I replied.

“Ah, but it was your idea, and it was better than what the Dawghouse would have done to her on their own. You should get part credit for that.”

I scratched my head. “So I take it you don’t like them much. Yeah, they’re a little extreme, and some of them probably are certifiable, but that’s what being a Northern State fan is all about. If we’re going to go to the lengths we do to win, it makes sense that they’d go to the lengths they do to support us.”

Ms. Vickie P smiled, but not her usual cocky grin. This was a whole mess of other things I never expected to see on her face: bitter, wistful, and deeply, deeply hurt. I suddenly got the odd feeling that I wasn’t looking at Ms. Vickie P, the cocky, confident, assured senior captain of the best team in women’s basketball, but at Victoria Peterson, a college kid who’d seen more than she ever wanted to see. Then the wall came back up and the mask went back on. “They can’t be great, so they pretend to be great, and their feeble attempts at greatness make us look less great,” she said after a pause, but I could tell there was something more to it, something she either didn’t want to say or somehow couldn’t say.

“Well, what else would you expect from people who are too broken to play anymore? And why do you think I started drinking two glasses of milk a day instead of one?” I joked.

But she wasn’t laughing. “You learn fast. Most people need until sophomore year to figure that one out,” she said bitingly.

“It helped that they were crank calling one of their old members who transferred out of school,” I admitted. Somehow I knew that I had to be honest with her, whether it was because she’d be able to tell if I was lying or because of that one moment when she’d let down her guard.

“Oh, yeah, Kenny G. Yeah, she was just mad that Black Jackie had to leave. Never did understand why Black Jackie let her stick around in the first place, let alone used her to get off, but at her size, I guess you take what you can get.” She snickered, and I saw yet another side of her, the nasty edge that made her a terror on the court, the finely honed killer instinct I was just starting to learn how to use.

“I didn’t know you could use the Dawghouse to stash your girlfriend if she wasn’t on the team.”

“Yeah, something like that. Kereee-L, don’t get too flip with me about this. I sent you there because you’re the only freshman great enough to keep those lunatics uder control. This is going to be a major task. Don’t let me down.”

“O...kay.” The pause came because she’d taken her shirt off to reveal a lacy little thing of a bra. Half my brain was able to notice that it was the proper shade of red. The other half was too busy noticing what was in and around the bra. “I, um, take it that wasn’t the only thing you called me in for,” I stuttered, my gaze locked on her perfect figure.

“You do learn fast. Super Stacy made you a basketball player- but I’m going to make you the next captain,” Ms. Vickie P said before moving in on me.

My mouth was dry, my panties were soaked, my bra strap was twisted, and the clock in the lecture hall read 2:30. Ms. Vickie P must have done a number on me. I looked down at my notebook and saw lines of verse like an afterimage on the page. Othello, my brain obligingly told me, and it promptly started reading off the dramatis personae. I told it to shut up so I could take a look around the classroom. The Northern State athletic gear on most of my fellow students, and the stunned looks on their faces as they snapped back to normal, told me that this was Principles of Mind Control 101, and that everyone there was part of the athletic program in some way.

“Oh, man, who’d ever thing that sleeping through English class would be so educational!” the lacrosse player next to me said, yawning as her eyes cleared and she looked over her detailed notes.

“I just hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much,” I said with a grin, discreetly adjusting my shirt. “The Shakespeare probably would have put me to sleep, knowing the way most teachers approach it, but it’s good to be able to sleep through it and still get an A. I knew there was a reason I loved this place, and it’s only our first day!”

“I hear that. Long Stick Sally, lacrosse. You?”

“Kereee-L, basketball.” Is it weird that I got a kick out of introducing myself? Every time I told someone my name, I felt a little charge like electricity in my veins. Being myself, being able to tell people who I really was, felt so good.

“Nice to meet you! So what’s your minor? Hope it’s not English-that’s the section in front of us.”

“Nah, psych. I’m all about how people tick. I want to get as many of them as possible. Screw the long, droning phrases and the suggestions that take forever to implant,” I replied with a wink.

“Smart woman. Um, what’s with the retarded chick?” Long Stick Sally asked suddenly as a woman with frazzled hair, no coordination, and disturbingly empty eyes made her torturous way up the stairs, her tremors making the sheaf of papers she was carrying shake like autumn leaves.

Long Stick Sally didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed when the woman came by and said, “S-s-s-s-yllabus f-f-for Miss- Miss Maackey.” She dropped a few sheets on our desks and continued on.

“Palsied, if we’re gonna get technical, which we should if we’re minoring in psych. I knew someone like that in high school. She couldn’t express it well, but behind all the shaking and stammering, she was just as smart as I was. It’s kinda sad, but I’m glad that our TA is someone who’d give someone like that a job.”

A snort interrupted our conversation and a tiny, golden-haired beauty walked in front of us. She looked familiar, but it took me a moment to recognize her as one of our assistant coaches. Very cool. She rested her elbows on the back of the vacant chair and said, “You’re both wrong, actually. She was my freshman class project. I shouldn’t have to say that I flunked with that one and had to scramble for something during the summer. I trot Beaker out at the beginning of the semester to show you kids what not to do. She has her uses, just not handing out the syllabus!”

Taken by surprise, the woman she’d called Beaker- and I cringed at that- tripped over her own feet and sent papers flying everywhere in a blizzard. I was the only one not dying of laughter.

“Oh, come on, that was perfect timing! They had to have pulled it off together! You were the one who said she was just as smart as the rest of us,” Long Stick Sally said with a grin and a light-hearted smack of my shoulder.

I wasn’t so sure about that, and I was about to tell her so when our teacher said, “Great! I’m Jo Mac, and I’ll be the TA for the psych minors in this section. Psych minors, follow me to room C103.” We followed her, and she sat down on the desk in the front of the room, trying to look seductive and partially suceeeding. “The goal of these lectures is to help guide you while you work on your class assignment. We’ll have labs for simple things and basic techniques, but this couse is mostly geared towards helping you work on your final project for the semester, which you’ll need to use everything you learn here to do.”

My, but wasn’t she underestimating us? Had she forgotten that we’d all had to prove our greatness in order to be allowed to join our teams before the semester had even started? She was treating us like idiots- no, worse than idiots, like ordinary people. I’ve never gotten off on the wrong foot with someone as badly as I had with her, but there was something about Jo Mac that didn’t sit well with me, and I didn’t want to think of what she could have done to that assistant of hers to leave the woman in that condition. So as she droned on about the basic dos and don’ts, I skipped ahead in the book to the section on memory retention, and as I read through it, I smiled. I knew exactly what my project for the semester would be, and I couldn’t wait to get started.

After class ended, I called TC Trivia and asked her to meet me in my dorm room. I don’t know which of us got there faster. “What is I’m glad you said you could help me with the forms for the college tournament?” she said, sounding a little breathless and smiling shyly. I’d figured out pretty quickly that my takedown of her had left her with a massive crush on me, and I was going to use it to our advantage.

“What are best friends for?” I asked her teasingly. She sat down at the desk and began to attack the pile of paper while I put something on the door to suggest that my roommates be somewhere else for the next couple of hours, then stood behind her and massagd her shoulders while she went through the forms. I’m sure anyone with experience would have laughed at my complete lack of subtlety as I moved from her shoulders to her lower back and legs, inching up her skirt, but it worked. I could see her getting distracted, making mistakes on the forms and having to scratch them out.

“What is Jeopardy! starts in ten minutes?” she said, half-complaining, half... well, not complaining.

“Oh, and you think I’d let you miss that? Not a chance,” I whispered in her ear while unbuttoning her blouse.

“Yeah, but...” she trailed off, trying to pull away, but not hard enough that I thought she was serious, so I didn’t let go of her.

“Just trust me, these’ll be the best ten minutes of your life.”

Okay, so it wasn’t my best line, but I hadn’t practiced it. She tried to answer me, and I could tell it was going to be in the form of a question, but I kissed her into quiet, and things went in a more familiar direction from there. I don’t know how I managed to put her out- whether I overpowered her with my will or my tongue- but watching the show in trance allowed her to recite every word of the broadcast back to me from memory when the show was over. “Good girl. Go read an encyclopedia or something now,” I suggested while she was still a little hazy, and she immediately got up and left. That reminded me that I should probably take the do-not-disturb-on-penalty-of-death sign off the door, in case my roommates wanted somewhere to sleep.

I spent the rest of the night working on my gameplan for TC Trivia until K-Moll suggested that if I was going to be up at two in the morning, I should at least be enjoying myself. Nutmeg Fox put the capper on it when she wandered out looking a bit dazed and reminded me that there was a game the next afternoon. That got me to bed. After all, this would be my first test of how well I could make the Dawghouse heel. I turned in with thoughts of soccer madness on my mind.

The morning dawned bright and a little too early for my liking- at least too early for my liking in high school, but we were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the game. K-Moll and Reshia headed out to do whatever their teams had told them to do for their offseason, and I jogged over to the Dawghouse. I thought I’d be early, but instead, I was the last one there. The contingent assigned to this game was out there, dressed out in Northern State soccer scarves and team colors. A few of them had red and navy hooligan masks on. And all of them were chanting in perfect unison at the top of their lungs. “OLÉ... OLÉ, OLÉ, OLÉ... OLÉ!”

“Great job, guys. You could pass for Italian soccer fans,” I said, and they beamed with pride until I noticed what Spike was carrying. “No! Bad Dawg! I said Italian, not British! Leave the flares at home! Burning down the stadium is unacceptable!”

“Okay,” Spike replied sadly, and I swear he almost shed a tear when he had to abandon his flares.

“Other than that, we’re all set for tonight, so let’s load up and chow down.”

An important thing I learned that Saturday morning: food gets everyone’s instant, undivided attention like nothing else in the world. I had no trouble loading them into the van. Teeny Tammy climbed into the driver’s seat and positioned herself carefully on the phone book on the seat, then indicated that I should ride shotgun, so I got on board and let her lead the way.

The first stop was at the local burger joint to pick up lunch. You can’t cheer properly on an empty stomach, after all. As my charges lined up, I spotted some daring souls in Carolina blue at a nearby table. “Uhh-oh. I don’t want anyone going to jail before the game,” I muttered to Teeny Tammy.

“Why not? It’s a crime to root against Northern State, at least in my book,” Teeny Tammy replied with a dismissive sniff.

“Not them, our guys! I don’t know what they’re gonna do, and then we’d all miss the game while I scrounged up bail! Totally not great!”

“Oh! Oh, don’t worry about it. We have people here. None of our group’s gonna do a thing. They don’t call the cook ‘Uneven Bart’ just because he’s a big gymnastics fan,” she said with a wink. “Ah, the days when I used to hypnotize men with my routine on the bars.”

“Do I wanna know?” I asked. Teeny Tammy gave me a mysterious smile. A few moments after the two Carolina fans started their meals, one, then the other, dropped everything and ran for the bathroom like their lives depended on it. “Um, okay, then. Maybe I’ll just stick to the salad. I take it the cook’s an alum?”

“Nope, just a crazy lay fan with no ties to the school. This is where we’ve made them since before I started here. It’s tradition for a big game- you find a good fan, someone who goes to games but isn’t really into everything we do, and turn them into a great fan. It helps strengthen our connection with the community, if you know what I mean.” She winked and took off her t-shirt to reveal her sparkling leotard. For some reason, the cook just couldn’t come over to us fast enough. She tilted her head up, smiled at him, and said, “Chef’s special for me and my friend.”

I’ve seen guys dopey in love before, and believe me, he was showing all the symptoms and then some. He was head over heels for her, and seemed to like me just because Teeny Tammy did. And the way he got behind the counter made me think he had to hide his excitement at seeing her again. She turned that smile on me and said, “Trust me, ‘kay?”

“Um, okay,” I replied. Looking at the grease dripping off the burgers that the rest of the crew had ordered, and the way the fries bent limply, I wasn’t expecting much. But I’d be satisfied if it was just bad. I had sudden flashes of one of Teeny Tammy’s potions being in the food, whether because the order had been mixed up or because I’d ticked off someone in the athletic department, and I hoped that I didn’t end up on the cheer squad thanks to this.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Uneven Bart returned in full French chef garb, holding a pair of exquisitely prepared tuna salads that were obviously not on the ordinary menu. One bite was all I needed to chow down without hesitation; it was so good I didn’t care if it would turn me into a cheerleader. At least my brain would die happy.

“Thanks, Bart,” Teeny Tammy said with a smile when she saw my approval. She put her t-shirt back on and picked up her fork, but it was obvious that he was still seeing her in the leotard and swinging from the apparatus that gave him his nickname as he ducked into the men’s room as discreetly as possible.

“Oh, man, this is good,” I said.

She beamed with pride. “I supply the ingredients and he does the magic. He was at the CIA before he met me, so this food’s good enough to kill you.”

“Whoa, hold it, hold it, hold it, I thought he only did that to the opposing fans!” I yelled, dropping my fork with a clatter.

“Oh, not like that. The cholesterol will get you in the end,” Teeny Tammy explained with a wink. Scanning the room, she spotted one of our guys and said, “Ah, I see Avery’s found our lay fan for today’s game.”

With a confused tilt of my head, I looked around until I found the scene she was talking about. Avery was busily flirting with a brunette a few years older than he was. She was in a Northern State sweatshirt, but she obviously didn’t know a thing about the soccer program. “Isn’t she a little old for college?” I asked, not wanting to know what Avery had in store.

“I’m sure she is, but I think she went here at some point, or she’s a season ticket holder for something, just not soccer. But she’ll be into women’s soccer by the end of the night, if Avery’s smooth charms do their usual work. You did know he’s MCM too, right?”

“Let me guess, minor in English?” I replied as sarcastically as I could to try and distract myself from some of the things he was saying to her, because I didn’t know whether I was disgusted or aroused. From the heavy breathing and the way her hands were wandering around in the air like she wanted to touch herself but wasn’t quite frenzied enough to do it in public, I didn’t think she had any question about it. “If he’s MCM, then what’s he doing with all the drunken loons? Um, no offense. But MCM goes through the athletic department. He should be doing part of my job, not being part of my job.”

“Don’t be stupid, Ker-eee L. We both know what the Dawghouse is for. He got his arm sliced open by a skate. Freak accident, but it caused permanent damage- that’s why he does the outlandish costumes and the footwork, because he can’t hold a sign up for an entire game. He helps us stay at the top of our game, and we help him stay at the top of his. Cute as he is, he’s too smart for the cheer squad,” Teeny Tammy explained impatiently.

“Shame. I’m sure he puts out as well as they do,” I said, watching the way the woman was reacting to whatever he was whispering in her ear. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it was enough for her to throw him to the table, plaster a white-hot kiss on his mouth, and run her hands up his shirt while he cupped her ass to much hooting and hollering. I let them get on with that for a little while before announcing, “Okay, lovebirds, we have to leave now if we want to get there when the gates open. You can get to know each other better later, all right?”

Avery grinned and got off the table, holding his conquest close as we rounded everyone up and headed for the soccer stadium.

The game itself was uneventful. For all the talk of UNC’s talent and tradition, we beat them 3-0, breaking their backs with a goal in the first five minutes, adding one just before the half, and icing it with a goal in the middle of the second half, when a bunch of our subs had come in. Even Nutmeg Fox got involved. And the chants reduced some of the weaker opponents to tears, but there weren’t any emotional breakdowns on the field. In other words, just another day at the office for the greatness of Northern State.

Afterwards, I got everyone together, except for Avery and his new friend, who were getting to know each other under the bleachers, and we trooped out to the van. At least, we were trooping until Spike stopped short, causing a chain reaction that would have been really funny if I weren’t involved in it. His head swiveled and he started to growl. When I turned to see what he was looking at, I spotted a woman in a North Carolina basketball jersey, which, while completely inappropriate both by team and sport, wasn’t something to start growling at. “How dare that bitch?” he snarled. If Fifi hadn’t grabbed his hand and started talking fast under her breath, I would have thought he’d start foaming at the mouth.

“Hey, we already showed them how great we are, we can be bigger than they are and let them go in peace,” I told him.

“Like hell! Carolina blue is one thing, but that’s worse than just that color!”

Teeny Tammy nodded agreement, her eyes hard and her face even harder. “Look at the side pattern! That’s Kenny G’s new group! Those bitches are out to steal our hard-working students!” she yelled.

“Wait, what?” A rival group? Different patterns? Gang wars don’t happen in Minnesota. They just don’t. So either I’d signed up for the drama club’s production of West Side Story while in trance or things had just gotten really, really weird.

“Argyle!” Fifi growled. I still didn’t know what the problem was with argyle, but the Dawghouse descended on the woman like they were really a pack of dogs, knocking her hard to the concrete. Fifi was literally nipping at her heels.

“Guys! Guys! Heel! They’ve had that pattern on their uniform since before we were born! What’s your problem? Leave her alone! Let her go!” I screamed, but they were beyond hearing me. I could taste the fear in the back of my mouth when I realized that the Carolina fan was dead unless I got help. Yeah, she’d been stupid, and yeah, part of me was tempted to leave her to her fate, but unlike Teresa, she hadn’t done anything to offend us other than the jersey, and she was getting abuse because of something I was sure she wasn’t involved with.

But who else could I grab? I realized that I couldn’t put Fifi in charge of the situation, even though she was usually more levelheaded than everyone else; the way she was acting, she would probably just grab a noose and “solve” the problem that way. I reached into the pile and yanked her out by her collar, then threw her into the van. “Are you crazy?” she demanded. Yeesh. She was so into her bloodlust she wasn’t even treating me with the reverence she usually showed.

“Me? Are YOU out of your mind? We’re going to get help before you and your brother kill that young woman and we have a major incident on our hands!”

“But if I’m not there, he’ll...” She trailed off, looking at the jersey as it sailed into the air.

“You okay?” I asked her.

She shook herself. “You’re right. We have to get help so he doesn’t hang her.”

She sounded a little off- more off than usual, I mean- but I was peeling out too fast and too worried about not crashing the van on the way to ask. Coach Bird’s orders were to fetch the football team in case something happened at any of the games and I couldn’t take control of the situation. This definitely qualified.

With a squeal of brakes in agony, I managed to bring the van to a halt, leaped out, and ran into the football stadium. It didn’t take long for them to come flying out in response. Sighing with relief, I came back out of the stadium and headed back to the van, which was still there (I’d worried that Fifi might hightail it back to the soccer stadium and go after that Carolina fan again). Fifi was still there too, staring out the window with an odd smile on her face. “Okay, let’s get going,” I said, but she didn’t react. I reached out to shake her awake, but before I could, someone shook me hard and fast, and I hit the ground.

Ms. Vickie P was glaring down at me, her fists clenched at her sides, teeth clenched, breathing heavily through her nose. “You took her with you. You fucking took her with you. She should have tried to stop you, but you had to take her with you.” She spat out her words like bullets, and the coldness of her anger, so different from her usual passion, made me genuinely afraid for the first time in my life that I was going to die. I tried to open my mouth and explain myself, but Ms. Vickie P rolled over me like I hadn’t tried. “Now we’re going to have to throw the Carolina game... which is at home... to make peace. Let that sink in for a moment, okay?”

She smiled like a skull, all teeth and no good humor. “That’s right, Kerry.” And the simple fact that she didn’t call me Kereee-L sent shivers down my spine. She kept on in the same cold, conversational tone, “When we lose a big game in front of our passionate, sold-out crowd, it’ll be your fault. When the school paper demands an answer, and the Dawghouse is howling for blood, and the entire campus is depressed and ready to start a fight at the drop of a hat, it’ll be your fault. And when I have to lose a game at home in my senior year, it’ll be your fault. If it were a road game, you’d just be bouncing around in a short skirt, but at home...”

“What? I—” But she didn’t let me get any further than that before she said something else that hit one of my triggers. The world suddenly went into slow motion, every second stretching into an eternity. Every sound was magnified. I probably could have heard a pin drop. I could feel Ms. Vickie P’s hands on my body, roughly shoving me into a sitting position, but I absolutely couldn’t move a muscle to react as she continued, “It was my idea to bring Fifi in. Spike and the rest of them were out of control, trying to do too much because they couldn’t accept that their playing days were over. I thought she could serve as their conscience so they wouldn’t do anything over the top like beating the hell out of opposing fans then raping them. If you’d had the sense God gave a flea, and left Fifi there, the worse they would have done was take the jersey and leave her with a couple of bruises. But you just couldn’t do that, could you?”

I stared up at her as bile rose in my throat, but I couldn’t even blink as she went on. “Oh, your little pets will be fine. The cops here will hide the case, and Anton- what, you thought you were the only one who knew how to use the Internet? Anton will blur her memories so she doesn’t get traumatized by all this, and then he’ll talk to someone at UNC, and we’ll have to throw a few games in a few sports to kiss and make up. This wouldn’t be the first time, either. I expected better of you. I really thought you could keep the leashes on them. This is why I wanted Stadium Girl to do grad school and stay here as an assistant coach, but no, Coach Bird wanted his precious little Jo Mac back again. Maybe this will prove it wasn’t my snatch talking when I suggested Stadium Girl.”

My heart was sinking in my chest, but I was completely helpless. My body and mind were both completely numb. I couldn’t offer an apology, or shed a tear, or feel regret and remorse at my own stupidity. All I could do was sit there like a statue while Ms. Vickie P went on. She’d said I’d be a cheerleader if I’d forced her to lose a game on the road... what was she going to do to me now that we had to lose one of our biggest games of the season at home? I resigned myself to becoming a mindless idiot next to Lucy Chen in the cheerleaders’ pyramid, prancing around in a skirt and fucking whoever I was told to fuck, as Ms. Vickie P took off my pants.

I didn’t know then that what she had in store for me was worse than I could have imagined. As it was, she dressed me as a soccer doll instead, and I was sure that this was going to be the final part of my punishment: I wouldn’t even get to be near the game I loved, but instead be tied to the one that had screwed up everything. Ms. Vickie P’s cruel smile never wavered while she said, “Coach would kill me if I had you miss anything for an ‘undisclosed violation of team rules’. And you’re too useful to get rid of the way we did Lil Lulu. But lucky for me, there’s plenty of time before practice begins, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll pay, and pay, and pay, and pay some more. Now go on home.”

My mouth said, “Yes, Great One.” My legs started moving along the path without any input from me. I was still too dazed to think. The world had gone from being in slow motion to being way too fast for my fogged-over brain to do anything with. And the tiny part of my brain that could still do anything like notice stuff understood why Ms. Vickie P had sent me back to my room as soon as I opened the door.

“WOW! I heard how you let the fans take care of that Tar Heeled bitch! That’ll show ‘em! You are so great! So, so, so great! We just can’t thank you enough!” Nutmeg Fox squealed as soon as I opened the door. She threw herself on top of me and began to enthusiastically grope me. All I could do was let her fuck me silly, then return the favor. When we were done, she got a call on her cell phone and exclaimed, “Come on! We all want to show you how grateful we are!” She put her uniform back on, then helped me with mine and dragged me to the soccer team’s locker room. All of them were waiting for me, giddy and squeeing at what I had allowed to happen. Some kind of switch flipped in my head, leaving me powerless to do anything but service them and hear their gratitude.

They were all into it, and that only made things worse, only reminded me more with every second of the incredibly stupid thing I’d done. Even though I couldn’t show it, inside I was getting sicker and sicker with every passing moment. Whatever twisted spell Ms. Vickie P had put on me was too strong for me to break. I was trapped, a prisoner in my own body, with guilt and shame my only companions. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so instead of trying to block it off the way I had before, I went the other way and tried to lose myself in the moment. Even if it left me a mindless cheerleader, I’d be better off that way.

But the block was too strong. I serviced each and every one of them, remembering every detail of their bodies as I ate them out, and I still couldn’t let go of the regret. Something must have given, though, because the next thing I knew, it was the next morning and I was alone in the locker room with Ms. Vickie P. “So you enjoyed the soccer team,” she said.

It wasn’t a question, but I could feel my head bobbing up and down in answer anyway.

She smiled- the cold, cruel look again. “I can see in those empty eyes of yours that you wanted to puke your guts out every time you made the soccer girls come, and heave when they made you scream. I didn’t expect it to work this well, but I’ve learned a trick or two from the other seniors about how to bring you to the breaking point where you just want to give up. But we can’t let your guilt hang around too long- you might lose your edge, and we can’t have that. Oh, you haven’t gotten away easy. We’ll still have to make a cheerleader out of you. But you’re too special to be a Northern State cheerleader. I have other plans for you.”

I was actually almost relieved, because the old mischief was back on her face, but as soon as I saw the spare Peterson jersey, I knew my fate. Sure enough, seconds later, I was her own personal cheerleader, wearing the spare jersey, trampishly high jean shorts, and heavy work boots, and everything went blurry after that. I don’t know if she was being kind, practical, or sadistic, but she didn’t let me remember everything she did to me and what she had me do to her. It was probably to keep me from revealing just how butch she was when she was left to herself, because the bits and pieces were pretty weird. Or maybe she just didn’t want me to enjoy it.

The parts I remembered afterwards were pretty normal. I was still myself in class, and still working on my project for the semester, but I was Ms. Vickie P’s personal bitch at all times, marked with her number and being paraded around as her property. I think she had me doing some of the chores in her dorm that were beneath her; at least that’s the only reason I can come up with for having such clear memories of scrubbing a toilet. And then there were the fantasies she had me fulfill for her, stuff that came straight out of Wolf videos that would make everyone at school go wide-eyed if they ever realized what their star senior was into. I remember having a couple of flashes of coherent thought and wondering if part of my punishment was to be paraded around as some kind of sex freak to hurt my popularity, but Ms. Vickie P shot that notion out of my head before I could work much with it.

I didn’t know at the time just how long I was out, but as abruptly as she took me under, she let me go with one whisper in my ear. As my senses returned, I could see why she’d stopped what she was doing to me- we were all standing in the gym in red and blue shorts and sports bras. Workouts before practices had started.

“Coach gets first dibs. Besides, you were starting to like it too much. If I wanted a steady diet of that, I’d be in San Francisco with Stadium Girl,” Ms. Vickie P explained.

A couple of things clicked together. She’d mentioned Stadium Girl before, after the soccer game, when I’d fucked everything up. And when we’d been alone the last two weeks, she hadn’t called me Kereee-L, or even Kerry, but something else that I couldn’t remember. But somehow, Stadium Girl was connected to North Carolina and the trouble that had caused, and somehow, she was also connected to Ms. Vickie P in a deeply important way.

Even after the hell she’d put me through for two weeks, I still wanted to make things right with Ms. Vickie P somehow. She’d punished me, yeah, but there was a difference between penance and repayment, and I meant to show her that I knew it. I’d make up the UNC loss to her, and she’d know how closely I’d been paying attention.

I tried to put the plan together right then and there, but I couldn’t get too far. Coach Bird popped a training video into the DVD player, and as my thoughts began to fade, I realized that my body was going to be less conditioned than my brain. That was the last thing I knew before I stopped being just myself and melted into the rest of the team and we became far greater than the sum of our parts.