Message-ID: <26242asstr$968512204@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: gcirby@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <8pcabt$ei9$1@nnrp1.deja.com> X-Article-Creation-Date: Sat Sep 09 03:21:46 2000 GMT Subject: {ASSM} RP: Absolute Power 1 by Gary Cirby 2/3 (MF,mc) X-Original-Subject: {ASSM} RP: Absolute Power 1 by Gary Cirby 2/2 (MF,mc) Date: Sat, 9 Sep 2000 11:10:04 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: english, kelly ABSOLUTE POWER 1 2/3 Send comments to gcirby@hotmail.com "You'll forgive me if this manifestation of my persona offends you," the image of Clinton said, although not with Bill's voice. It was the voice Paul had heard in the bedroom and, like before, it still seemed to be issuing from every speaker in the house. "Uh..." Paul said, staring, unable to think of anything else to say. "You see," the image continued, "I really have no form that you would be able to see. Nor can I assume a visible form before you without actually entering your brain and manipulating your visual and auditory centers. I would never enter a human's brain without permission. That would be a horrid violation." "Uh..." Paul continued to stammer, simply staring at the screen from the second step in the hallway. Was this really happening? Was he dreaming maybe? That had to be it. President Clinton's image talking to him? Only in a dream could something that weird occur. "So what I have to do in order to be seen by you," the image continued, "without violating your mind is to violate your television and speaker equipment instead. The image of your president was chosen because it is a pattern that is frequently seen moving through your mediums of communication in this country and it is less effort to duplicate a commonly seen pattern." It smiled a bit. "A little bit of laziness on my part. I hope you'll forgive me. And, as I said, if the image of President Clinton offends you as it does some others, please tell me and I'll choose another." "Uh..." He coughed, shaking his head and closing his eyes for a moment. He pinched himself on the arm, feeling pain. Could that happen in a dream? "Would you like another image?" the image inquired politely once more. "I could switch to an earlier president perhaps? Or maybe a supermodel?" "Uh... Clinton's fine... uh... yeah." "Very well," the image said, nodding a little. "Mr. Clinton it shall be. You'll perhaps note that the voice is not your President's. In the case of audio duplication, it is easier for me to just simulate an average, typical voice pattern. If you wish, I COULD imitate Mr. Clinton's voice." It switched over to the southern accented voice so familiar to Americans. "How about this? Is this better?" Paul chewed on his lip a little. Was this maybe an acid flashback? He had dropped acid once back in his early college days. It had been an interesting experience, not one that he had ever cared to repeat, but he had never had anything like this happen before. Nor did he FEEL like he was on acid. "Whatever is uh... easiest on you," he finally told the image of Clinton. "But uh, tell me. If you don't mind that is. What did you do to my wife? Is she going to be all right?" "She will be fine," it said, switching back to the first voice. "I have placed a small electrical, magnetic resonance field around her that has frozen all of her nerve impulses in place. She can be kept like that indefinitely and then released without damage or memory of the event. To her it will seem like nothing has happened. I assure you, I will not harm her." "Well what is it that you want from me?" Paul said, his voice a little more steady, though his fear was still quite palatable. "And who are you?" "Who I am is not important," the image said. "Let's just say that I come from very far away and that I have evolved to the point where I have great power and where a physical body is not necessary. I am, in a way, a pure consciousness and, by your standards, I am very old. As for what I want from you, well, as I said a minute ago, I would like to impart upon you a gift." "What kind of gift?" Paul said suspiciously, thoughts of Internet rip- off scams and telephone solicitors going through his mind. Nobody gave gifts for nothing in this world. "I would like to instill within you a certain power Mr. Woods. I would like to give you the power to impose your will, whatever that will might be, upon others of your species." Paul took a moment to digest that. The power to impose his will? "I'm not sure that I am following you," he said. "What I am offering you," the image re-phrased, "is the ability to control the minds, the very thoughts of other people. To make any human being do anything that you wish. Anything at all. All you would have to do is suggest something to them or order them to do something or to believe something or to think something and they will. I am offering you absolute power over others Mr. Woods, the ability to do as you please in this world and to have any other person do as you please." Paul took a step backward, feeling shudders going through his body. He had stopped thinking about solicitors and Internet scams and had begun thinking about deals with the devil. "And what..." he asked carefully, "would I have to give YOU in return for this... gift?" "Nothing at all," the image said. "This is a no-obligation offer Mr. Woods. You will not have to offer me your soul or your firstborn child or anything else. If you accept my offer you will never see me or hear from me again. The gift will simply be yours to do with as you please; to do anything with." "Really?" Paul said, knowing there had to be SOME sort of catch. "And why would I get the honor of having this... this power." "Because," the image said simply, "you are an average human being with reasonably high morality. This is a gift I wish to give to an average human being and of all the average human beings in the world, you are the one I chose. I have no ulterior motives." "How do I know that though?" Paul asked, his mind reeling, on overload. "How do I KNOW?" "You do not," the image replied. "Please take no offense to my words Mr. Woods, but, on the evolutionary scale I am as high above you and your species as you are above an amoebae. If I wanted to fool you into doing my will, I could easily do so. I could have presented myself as a genie in a bottle, as a random occurrence, as a number of other things. Instead, I am telling you the truth. Truth is much revered among others of my kind and I hold with that decree. My offer is genuine and there is no catch. If you do not wish to take me up on this offer, I will understand, I will even respect that decision, and I will leave you in peace." "And if I do take it?" he asked next. "What then? Will I have to go running around the world doing good deeds with it, or doing bad deeds? Am I supposed to be some sort of... superhero or something?" "Only if you wish," it replied. "You may do anything with this gift, anything at all. It is a true gift, yours to use in whatever manner you see fit." "Wow," Paul said, wiping a layer of sticky sweat from his forehead. "This is all pretty mind-blowing." "I understand," the image said. "And if you would like a moment to think about it, I'm a very patient soul. Please, sit down on your couch and let your mind work the offer over. But I ask you to ask yourself: what do you have to lose?" "What do I have to lose?" Paul asked. "Precisely," it told him. "Think about what I did to your wife. I put her in a stasis field, an ability that is far, far beyond your species' scientific or spiritual capabilities. Do you not think that I could do anything I wanted to her? Do you not think I could do the same to you? If I were trying to harm you, if I were trying to kill you, I would have done so and you would not have even known it. I could stop your heart if I wished, I could scramble your brains, I could utilize the same power I am offering you and command you to kill yourself. But I have done none of that. You may not trust my words. That is understandable given the current state of your species, but if harm was what I wished for you, do you not think I would have chosen another way to harm you?" "I suppose," Paul said, slowly stepping into the room. He sat down on the couch, allowing his legs to stop shakily holding him up. "So please, allow me to give you my gift. We will then part company forever and you may begin using it." In his very confused mind Paul concluded that the image of President Clinton and the voice of the average man was right. What did he have to lose? Chances are this entire vision was nothing but a dream or an acid flashback. But if that was the case, what was the harm? And if it was not the case... well... the things that could be done in the world with the power he was being offered. The things that could be accomplished. "All right," he said finally. "I'll take your gift." Clinton smiled warmly. "Excellent Mr. Woods. Truly excellent. I am glad you saw things my way." "So what happens now?" "Now," the image said, "I will have to enter your mind for the briefest of time." "Enter my mind?" Paul said nervously. "May I point out," the image said, "that I could have done that at any time, with or without your knowledge. However, as I said earlier, I have a moral taboo against doing such a thing without the permission and full understanding of the human. In order to give you this gift, I must make a few... oh, shall we say adjustments to your neural pathways and your temporal lobe. You see, the ability I am offering, as well as many others, is locked away inside of every human's brain." "You mean..." he said slowly, "that I could have done this all along." "Not at your current state of evolution Mr. Woods," it replied. "Your species has many thousands of generations of growth to complete before you could even come close to the ability I will be giving you. While the ability is there in everyone, and always has been, you do not have the knowledge or the wisdom to utilize it. You have a conventional wisdom among your scientists and medical doctors that a human only uses ten percent of his or her respective brain. Unfortunately, this is not true. Though you currently use ten percent of the neural pathways you have been given, you use less than one thousandth of a percent of your actual brain capacity. Your doctors and scientists that tell themselves that they know how the brain functions are deluding themselves." "Wow," Paul said again, amazed. "But in any case Mr. Woods, I will need your permission to enter your brain and make these adjustments. They will be quick and painless and you will suffer no ill or debilitating effects. After I make the necessary adjustments, you will have the power until you die." "It won't hurt?" he asked. "It will not hurt," it said. "Now, may I begin?" Paul took a deep breath, wavering a little. It wanted to enter his brain and make CHANGES to it. That was a very creepy thought. But it said it wouldn't hurt him. And the power! The things he could do if such a power was really given to him. "Okay," he finally said. Clinton smiled. "Very well Mr. Woods. I will begin." "How will you... ahhh," he said, startled as a brief burst of light, almost like a flashbulb going off, suddenly appeared before him. It lasted far less than a second. When it was over, the image of President Clinton was gone from the television screen. "What the hell happened?" This time the voice did not come from the speakers in his house. This time Paul just HEARD it as if he was thinking aloud. "I am inside your brain now Mr. Woods," it said. "I entered by accessing your optic nerve and moving along the neural pathways. I have made no changes as of yet. I will ask you one more time, before I do, if you are sure you wish me to do this?" "Uh..." "You don't have to talk," the voice told him. "Just think. Out of respect for your privacy, I am not accessing your memory patterns or thought processes. But I will hear your conscious thoughts as you push them forward." "Really?" Paul thought but did not say. "Really," was the reply. "So what do you say? Should I proceed?" "Yes," he thought, again thinking of what he could do. "Go ahead." "It is done," said Clinton from the television screen a second later. "You're back in the TV?" Paul asked verbally, in surprise. "You did it that fast?" "It does not take much Mr. Woods," it said. "Again, forgive my offensive tone, but your brain is really a rather simple device. All I did was activate a few pathways and a portion of your temporal lobe. The power is now yours." "Wow," Paul said, shaking his head a little, still convinced he was dreaming or in the midst of a hallucinogenic flashback. "I don't feel any different." "Why would you?" it asked him simply. "Nothing about you IS physically different. I have altered none of your memories or anything else. I have simply awakened a dormant portion of you." "But... uh... how does it... you know... how does it work?" "The power is tied into your verbalization," it said. "When you wish to employ the power, you simply tell the person what you want them to do or what you want them to think and you project your will towards them. You will see what I mean when you utilize the power. For safety reasons, I have tied it to your voice and I have made it require a conscious decision on the part of your waking brain. You will not be able to utilize the power without speaking and without the other person being able to understand you. You will also not be able to accidentally control someone. You must project consciously. It is not hard, but it does require some effort." "I see," Paul said, although he really didn't. "You will have to experiment for a while before you perfect your ability," it said. "My advice to you is that you do not try to be very complex at first. Do not attempt, for instance, to control an entire room full of people until you are experienced. Be warned, your words will be taken very literally when you use this power. Avoid the use of slang that has multiple meanings or you may have unforeseen consequences." "Okay," he said. "One other piece of advice and I will leave you to your experimentations." "Yes?" "Learn to undue what you do," it told him. "And be careful. Remember at all times that you are still mortal." "I will," he promised. "Very well," it said. "I will leave you now. Enjoy your gift and use it wisely. When my image leaves your television set, everything will be as it was in your house. Goodbye Mr. Woods and remember my words." "I..." he started, but before he could finish, the image was gone. The television was blank and the speakers were idle. From the bedroom he could hear the faint buzzing of Terry's vibrator once more. "Paul," came her voice, sounding a little breathless. "Come on honey, I'm waiting for you." His mind still reeling, still wondering if this had all been a delusion, he walked into the bedroom. Terry was startled to see him approach from that direction. The hand that was pushing and pulling the vibrator in her vagina stopped on the in-stroke. "How the hell did you get in there?" she said. "I never saw you walk by me!" He chewed his lip a little, looking at his beautiful spouse. "How did you get by me?" she asked suspiciously. "You saw me go by," he said. "Don't you remember?" "You did not go by me!" she said, pulling the vibrator free. "Paul, that is so spooky. I just heard you step out of the shower a second ago! And now you come walking in from the living room? How did you do that?" It occurred to him that this would be an easy, painless way to test whether or not he had really experienced what he had just SEEMED to have experienced. If he had this alleged power, then it should be easy to check. If he did not have it, then no harm would be done. He looked directly at Terry and said, "You saw me go by a minute ago. I told you I was going to check the door to make sure it was locked." She looked at him as if he were crazy. "You said no such thing Paul," she barked, shaking her head. "You're kind of scaring me a little. This is like the Twilight Zone or something. How did you get from the shower to the living room in less than a second without me seeing you? How?" It hadn't worked. Maybe it really was just a hallucination. "Paul?" she demanded. "This really isn't funny." He licked his lips a little. Project himself, the image of Clinton had told him. Project himself. He looked at his wife and, while repeating the sentence he had just spoken, tried to... to push at her with his mind, to command her to believe him. "You saw me go by a minute ago," he said. "I told you I was going to check the door and make sure it was locked." And this time he felt something, some small force leaving his brain and moving towards Terry's. It was a slight sensation, hardly anything that he would have noticed had he not been concentrating all of his energies upon it. But it had been something. Instantly the confusion disappeared from Terry's face. The hand holding the vibrator pushed it back into her wet pussy and began moving it. "Well," she said slyly. "Are you satisfied?" "Satisfied?" he said slowly, his thoughts abuzz. "I told you that I'd locked the door earlier," she said righteously. "And it was locked, wasn't it?" He swallowed, feeling tingles running through his body at her words. Had it really worked? "It was locked," he said carefully. "And I always lock it Paul," she said. "You should know that. I don't know why you even felt the need to check." It had worked! He had told her that she had seen him walk by a minute ago and she believed that she had. She believed it! He really had the power! "You're right," he told her. "I don't know why I even bothered." She smiled, spreading her legs a little wider. "So now that you know we're safe and secure," she told him, "why don't you get over here and take care of business? This little machine feels good, but it's sure not a real substitute." Though with his mind on overload as it tried to cope with the fact of its new ability, and though he desperately wanted to sit down alone somewhere and think about the best uses of it, Paul stepped forward and climbed onto the bed. He would keep up appearances for the time being. He would not use this new power until he had a chance to think it through. And though he no longer felt like bouncing atop his naked wife's body, he climbed aboard anyway. It only took him a moment or two to get back into the mood. He kept himself isolated from Terry as much as he could the rest of the day, locking himself in his computer room. He lay awake beside her most of the night, unable to sleep, unable to shut his thoughts down. He had the power to control others! To make others do whatever he wanted them to do! He, in effect, had absolute power! Absolute! He could make himself the ruler of the Earth if he wanted to and if he applied himself correctly. He could be unstoppable. The question was: did he want to do that? Did he want to use this gift to rule the world? Did he want to use it at all? As an historian he knew quite well what the perils of absolute power did to a person. Look at Stalin, at Hitler, at countless others. Look at the human pain and misery that they had caused with their own absolute power; a power that was not near as strong as what he potentially could do. Did he really wish to elevate himself to that level? He did not think so. Certainly not right now. But what could he use his power for? He was smart enough, and honest enough with himself to know that he would not be able to resist the temptation to use the ability. Who could? But what was the best means of using it? How far should he go? Paul Woods was basically a good man. He was as good a man as could be found in the day and age in which he lived. He had no desire to create suffering or to hurt others. He had no desire to rule the world. But he did have other desires, other problems. Could using the ability solve those? Of course they could. For instance, he had some struggling students in his classes. Could a little jolt of their study habits, of their goals in life perhaps help them along? Was anything wrong with doing that? And he had an assistant principal that was a vindictive bitch that delighted in utilizing her own power over those beneath her. Could a little readjustment of her attitude really hurt anyone? Well... maybe. That one would require some more thought. But why stop there? The Lincoln City Council was currently debating whether or not to allow fluoridation of the city's water supply. This was an issue that Paul, who had studied up on it, had strong opinions about. Could he maybe find his way to each of the council members, one by one, and just suggest to them that they should vote the way he felt about the matter? He could do that, could do it very easily. But what would the consequences be? Paul, as an educated and intelligent man had no illusions about how politicians, even small-time politicians like the Lincoln City Council members, decided how to vote on something. They voted for whomever had contributed the most campaign funds to them, for whomever's lobby group had granted the most perks. Politicians were bought people. What would happen if he went and forced them to change their votes if those votes had already been promised and given to someone else? And, putting that aside, what gave him the right to decide for all of the other people of Lincoln that what he thought was right was the way it should be? What about gun control, abortion, death penalty? He had strong opinions about all of those subjects and he felt he was right about them. But did that give him the right to instill his opinions upon others by utilizing his power? "Jesus," he whispered to himself, shaking his head a little. This was undoubtedly some deep feces that he was treading through. And then there was the question of discovery by either government or corporate agencies. It went without saying that either of those entities would do just about anything to get their hands upon someone like him. And while he might not be particularly easy to capture - any potential kidnapper could be easily directed to disregard his mission - his family would be. They could be held as hostages of fortune in order for him to be forced to do their will. Even if that extreme were not resorted to, wouldn't the mere existence of someone like himself be sufficient cause for concern for a governmental agency. Even if they elected not to try to use him themselves, wouldn't they at least have him killed before he could present a danger to them? Clinton had told him, had specifically warned him that he was mortal. He decided that his prime directive with this power would be to keep it concealed from all others. He would never let anyone else know that he had it. "Learn to undo what you have done," he had been warned and he would take that warning seriously. He tried to think of an easy phrasing that would allow that and, after a while, came up with several. Sometime around the point where the sky above the city of Lincoln began to show the first hints of lightening with the coming of dawn Paul came to a consensus of sorts. He would confine the use of his ability to very small things for now. He would, as the image of Clinton had suggested, just get the hang of using it and would not try anything major. Any big issues that he could effect, he would just let go for the time being. He would just let them go and concentrate on little things. He would learn and he would think about what else to do as he learned. At 6:30 AM, just as Terry was getting up to start her morning routine, he picked up the phone and called in sick for his classes that day. "What's the matter Sweetie?" Terry asked him, feeling his forehead with inside of her wrist, searching for fever. "I'm just not feeling good today," he said. "I didn't sleep very well and I don't think it would be a good idea to go to work." She fawned over him for the rest of the morning, asking again and again if he was okay, but finally left to hold vigil over her own students. She took his corrected papers with her as she went. Once the door was shut behind her he immediately fell into a deep sleep. He would not awaken until 12:30 that afternoon. The street that Paul and Terry lived on was in a semi-affluent section of Lincoln. It was a pleasant, tree-lined subdivision packed with tract houses that all looked alike and occupied by solidly middle-class families. The neighbors were, for the most part, friendly and personable, a half and half mix of single and double income families. The majority had children, most of whom were still in the toddler or early school years age. It was a neighborhood where 4th of July block parties and annual Christmas parties took place, where everyone knew everyone by first name and gave friendly waves of greeting. It wasn't exactly Mayfield from Leave it To Beaver, but it was close. Paul stepped outside at one o'clock that afternoon to collect his mail from the box in front of his house. He was wearing sweat shorts and a T-shirt as he walked barefoot across his lawn, his mind still quite occupied with thoughts of his new ability. "Hi Paul," a familiar female voice called to his right. He looked over to see that Julie, his next door neighbor, was working in her garden. Her husband, Rich, was a civil engineer for the city and Julie herself was a housewife that stayed home and watched after their nine month old daughter. As one of the non-working mothers in the neighborhood, she had time to indulge a favorite hobby: her rose garden. Every spring it was the envy of the neighborhood. Such a masterpiece of botany did not come without a price however. Every afternoon from late winter through fall she could be seen out in front of her house during her child's naptime, pulling weeds and clipping branches. "Hi Julie," he said, changing course and walking over to her. "How is your day going?" Julie was very pretty. She was a short, petite blonde in her early twenties. She was dressed in a pair of tan shorts that showed off her legs and a white shirt that allowed her perky breasts to bulge pleasingly outward beneath it. Her light blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and she had smudges of dirt on her forehead and arms. She smiled in a friendly manner when Paul approached her. As a typical male, Paul felt a tug of physical attraction whenever he saw her. This day was no different. "Oh, just clipping a few branches out here while Kyla's sleeping," she said, standing up straight and dropping the shears she held. "How about yourself? What are you doing home today? Are you sick?" Her blue eyes probed at him inquisitively. In addition to being attractive and a good gardener, Julie was also the designated gossip source for the neighborhood. Though she was usually not vicious about it, she could cite the job title, yearly income, type of motor vehicle driven, and just about every other vital statistic of any person in the neighborhood. When you had a conversation with Julie, it was with the understanding that anything you said could and would be passed on later to the other neighbors in other conversations. Paul knew that when she inquired just what he was doing at home, she was not expressing simple curiosity or making polite conversation. She was hoping that he would say something like: "Oh, Terry and I are going to divorce so I took the day off to consult with a lawyer" or "Terry found this strange lump in her breast and we have to go get it checked out". "I wasn't feeling very well this morning," he said dismissively, no doubt disappointing her. "It felt like my body was fighting something off. I'm better now though." "Well that's good," she said, as if relieved about the state of his health. "And how is Terry doing? I haven't talked to her in a few days." "She went in to school this morning," he said, watching a drop of sweat as it tracked down the side of her face and disappeared beneath the hem of her shirt. It left a wet trail behind it. Julie really did have nice skin. It was the pale color of a natural blonde's but very soft looking. "She offered to stay home with me but I told her to go ahead and go in." Julie shook her head. "I just don't know how you two do it," she said. "Teaching high school students in this day and age. Aren't you afraid that one of those school shootings will happen?" Paul shrugged, having only half-heard her question. While he mechanically explained about how rare such things really were and about how the school they taught at was actually kind of upscale, he continued to take in the details of her body, of her face. Though he did not enjoy talking to Julie as far as the conversation aspect went, he always had enjoyed talking to her for the aesthetic aspect. She was just one of those women that you loved to look at, to imagine touching in intimate ways and, like every other male on the street, he took every oppurtunity that he could to chat with her. During his brainstorm the previous night the thought of using his new ability for sexual pleasure had of course popped into his head on several occasions. How could it not have? It had been a heady thought that he could now have sex with virtually any person that he desired as long as he could arrange to have a face to face meeting with them. Anybody! Each time that the thought had surfaced however, he had pushed it aside, telling himself that the giver of the gift had probably not intended for him to use it to go around boffing everything with a vagina. And there was also the matter of his wife. He had taken marriage vows that he would forsake all others and he had always taken those vows seriously. Several times since being married, other women, some of them quite attractive, had propositioned him. What married man did not experience this from time to time? But he had never been seriously tempted to follow through. When it came down to it, adultery was wrong and engaging in it would do nothing but complicate his life. So, he had decided last night, he would continue to remain faithful to Terry. He would not use his gift for those ends. Of course that decision had been made by a man who had just had two orgasms in the past eight hours and who had a relatively low level of sexual build-up floating around in his body. It is no wonder that it seemed such an easy path to follow at that time. Now, however, in the afternoon of a new day, while he was looking at a woman standing before him that he had always found very attractive, he felt that resolve already starting to slip. He could have her! He could have her right now and then tell her that it never happened, to forget it! He could have her with no consequences! He could take her inside of her house right now and fuck the living shit out of her, take her up the ass, have her suck his cock, do anything, anything at all! "Are you okay?" Julie asked him carefully, seeing a strange expression on his face. "Uh... sure," he said, casting his eyes away from her face, trying to control the lustful thoughts he was having. Shifting his gaze did not help. It simply meant that he was looking down at her exposed midriff. It was flat and pale, slightly damp looking from her sweat, the belly button a perfect pink hole in the center with a very fine fuzz of almost transparent blonde hairs trailing down from it into the hem of her shorts. "Uh listen Julie..." "Yeah?" she asked, her puzzled expression becoming more puzzled. "Do you masturbate a lot?" he heard himself saying impulsively, wondering just what he thought he was doing even as he did it. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+