Before Court: A Campus Court Story

Foreword:

All characters within this story are above the age of 18. If you enjoy my stories and wish to drop in or request a story of your own, join my discord: https://discord.gg/SXZQjsuwpA. Other stuff I create could be found on my links page here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/12DAE-46noOO5YJ1Dhs7s9c3YUknw7FszaO7QREcs0is/edit?tab=t.0

Here's a Link to the original story should you want to read that first: https://chyoa.com/story/Campus-Court.66074

Introduction:

The morning had barely begun, and Aiden was already out the door.

It started with a comment—simple, stupid. “You put too much sugar in the coffee,” he’d mumbled between sips at the breakfast table.

His mother didn’t even blink before turning the kitchen into a warzone.

“Oh yeah?” she’d snapped, her eyes narrowing like he’d just insulted her life’s work. “You little shit—why don’t you try making your own damn coffee before you start running your mouth.”

Aiden didn’t respond. He’d learned the hard way that words were pointless in this house. All they ever did was pour gasoline on whatever fire she was ready to light that day. So, he did what he always did—grit his teeth, clenched his fists, and left before she could throw something else at him.

“Hey! Who do you think’s gonna clean up after—!” she yelled after him as the door slammed shut behind him.

He didn’t care. Not today.

The morning air hit his face, it felt better than staying inside. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket and kept walking. He knew his mom had just gotten promoted, some IT hotshot now, and sure, maybe her job was stressful—but that didn’t give her the right to treat him like a punching bag. If she couldn’t handle the pressure, maybe she should go do something easier.

His thoughts were swirling—resentful, bitter, half-formed—when he rounded the corner and slammed straight into someone.

Sheldon.

The guy bounced off him like a tennis ball and hit the pavement with a pathetic grunt. Some kind of sleek, high-tech headset went skidding across the sidewalk, stopping just near Aiden’s foot.

“Oh, hey there, Poindexter,” Aiden said, looking down at him with a raised brow. “You forget how to walk or something?”

Sheldon scrambled up, eyes locked on the headset. “Give that back. Now.”

Aiden smirked. “Whoa, whoa. Since when did you grow a spine, nerd?” He bent down, picking up the device and giving it a quick once-over. It looked like a regular headset—maybe a little too sci-fi for someone like Sheldon to just be casually carrying around.

He didn’t wait. He slid the thing on.

It didn’t fit right—tight, almost like it was digging into his head. Then came the sound. A low, deep hum, like a purr from inside his skull. His thoughts slowed. Sharpened.

“This feels weird,” he muttered, blinking. “What is this?”

Sheldon froze. “No—I shouldn’t—”

“I asked you a question,” Aiden said, his voice firm, slicing the space between them. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

And just like that, Sheldon stiffened. His eyes glazed for a second. Then he sighed.

And he talked.

For twenty straight minutes.

Aiden barely got a word in as Sheldon rattled off something about “subconscious mind penetration” and a prototype headset he was testing—some geek project designed to help him become more assertive by making people more... agreeable. The theory was, the more people obeyed his requests, the more confident he’d get. Eventually, he wouldn’t need the device at all.

But it wasn’t magic. The headset still needed effort from the user. Authority. Persuasion. Which explained why Sheldon hadn’t responded to Aiden’s first casual question—but the second he spoke like he meant it, he folded.

“Huh...” Aiden muttered, touching the device as it buzzed lightly in his ears. “So, it can override someone’s will. You just have to be firm?”

His voice dipped lower. “Can it be made stronger?”

Sheldon’s face paled. His eyes widened.

And he started to run.

Aiden expected that.

He lunged forward and tackled Sheldon to the curb. The nerd flailed, but Aiden had the weight advantage. He’d pinned him easily when a familiar voice sliced through the chaos like a hot knife.

“Aiden!”

Both boys froze.

Standing above them, arms crossed and lips curled into a scowl, was none other than Dean Ramsbottom. Her thick glasses glinted in the sunlight as she stared down at the scene. She’d just stepped out of her car.

“Didn’t I just reprimand you yesterday?” she snapped. “Now you’re roughing up students off campus too? Don’t you two have classes to get to?”

Sheldon tried to speak, mouth twitching open.

But Aiden was faster. He grabbed Sheldon’s jaw, leaned in close, and whispered, “Say one word I didn’t ask for—and that’s the last word you’ll ever say.”

He let go.

Sheldon looked down at the pavement and stayed silent.

“We were just playing, Ms. Ramsbottom,” Aiden said with a lazy grin, brushing the dust off his shirt like nothing had happened. “Yeah, I know we’re late. I was actually hoping... you could drop us off at campus?”

The Dean blinked at him, stunned.

“Drop you off? What do I look like—your personal driver?” she snapped, adjusting her glasses with the kind of irritation usually reserved for people caught parking in her space.

“Oh, definitely not,” Aiden said, quick with the charm. “We know how important you are to the university. It’s just… as the Dean, isn’t it your job to make sure students get to class on time? Wouldn’t want us missing lectures now, would you?”

For a moment, Ramsbottom just... froze.

She didn’t speak. Her face twitched with something unreadable—like her brain was buffering, caught between indignation and something hazier. She shook her head slightly, her expression flickering.

Then clarity returned. She cleared her throat. “I suppose there’s some truth in that logic,” she muttered. “I usually wouldn’t be in favor of this, but... maybe just this once won’t hurt.”

Click.

She unlocked the doors.

Aiden didn’t wait. He grabbed Sheldon by the arm and dragged him into the backseat. The car started moving in the direction of their campus.

“So...” Her voice broke the silence, “What were you boys really doing back there? You think I’m stupid enough to believe you were just playing?”

Aiden leaned forward slightly, elbow on the headrest, a smug smirk etched across his face. “I really don’t think you should worry yourself with that right now, Ms. Ramsbottom. Eyes on the road. Just take us to campus. Do your job.”

“Excuse me?” she said sharply, turning to glance at him through the mirror. “Just because I’m giving you a ride doesn’t mean I’m your friend—or your servant.”

“You’re the driver right now, aren’t you?” Aiden shot back, eyes glinting. “And a good driver knows to keep their eyes on the road.”

That’s when everything stopped.

Literally.

The Dean pulled over.

Her head moved slowly, stiffly, as she turned in her seat. Her eyes were glassy. Like she was underwater. “I... I’m the driver?” she repeated, her voice soft and mechanical, more question than statement.

Aiden blinked, confused for a moment.

Even Sheldon looked like he might shit himself, but his lips stayed sealed—still bound by Aiden’s earlier command.

“Yeah,” Aiden said cautiously. “You’re driving us to campus, aren’t you? So yeah... you’re the driver.”

“Oh...”

Her eyes drifted for a second, unfocused. Then, like a light flickering back to life, clarity returned.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said suddenly, voice chipper, professional. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll keep my nose out of your business and focus on my job. Shall we continue?”

Aiden stared at her. “Sir?”

Was she serious?

She looked at him through the mirror again, smiling politely—like he was her boss, not her student. The same woman who’d once made him write an apology essay for skipping a guest lecture was now calling him sir.

He turned to Sheldon, barely hiding the wicked grin forming on his lips. “What the fuck is happening?”

Sheldon rubbed his temples, exasperated. “You convinced her subconscious using logic. You told her she was your driver. But she doesn’t just see ‘driver’ as someone behind a wheel—she equates that word with servitude. Obedience. Someone who gets paid to shut up and follow orders.”

“And the headset… made it stick?” Aiden asked.

Sheldon nodded. “Only for the duration of the context. Once she stops driving, the effect will wear off.”

“So... as long as we’re in the car…”

“She has to act like a driver. Yes.”

Aiden leaned back, almost giddy.

He glanced at the Dean again.

She was still watching the road, prim and perfect in her seat, hands folded, smile polite but vacant.

That obedient little smile on a woman who once made him scrub graffiti off lockers. It didn’t belong on her face. And that made it ten times better.

She looked... good.

He hadn't really paid attention to her before—always too pissed off by her attitude—but now? The way her hair was pulled into a tight bun, not a single strand out of place. The neat glasses. The fitted blazer. Everything screamed authority.

Except her mouth.

That mouth now called him sir.

“Interesting,” Aiden muttered, eyes roaming lazily over her profile. “Very interesting…”

An idea formed. A ridiculous one. But then again, so was getting chauffeured to school by your Dean in complete obedience.

And if this worked... what else could?

“I believe we had a talk about the dress code, Miss Ramsbottom,” Aiden said coolly, folding his arms like a disapproving manager addressing a waitress. “No clothes up top, remember?”

He watched her grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

“Um… sir, I do remember,” she said, her voice soft, almost embarrassed. “But I… I don’t think that would be appropriate. I may not be able to continue working for you if that’s the dress code you require.”

Aiden’s stomach dropped a bit. Shit. He’d gone too far. A thread had been pulled, and she was starting to slip out of the illusion. If she quit the role, this whole fragile spell could unravel.

“Uh—no, no. I didn’t mean that,” he said quickly, backpedalling. “I meant… why are you still wearing that jacket? You know you’re not supposed to wear your uniform from your other job.”

He gestured vaguely at her blazer, the one embroidered with the university crest.

Her eyes dropped to the fabric.

And something clicked.

Her brows jumped in horror. “Oh my god—you’re right,” she said, voice full of genuine concern. Without hesitation, she wriggled out of the blazer and tossed it aside on the seat next to her. “I’m so sorry, sir. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Right, it’s fine,” Aiden said, trying to sound casual, though his pulse was racing. “We should be good to—”

Knock-knock-knock.