Message-ID: <46323asstr$1074636611@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Originating-Email: [nilanthos@hotmail.com] From: "nilanthos" Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 20 Jan 2004 12:20:53.0566 (UTC) FILETIME=[D92F1DE0:01C3DF4F] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 20 Jan 2004 04:20:53 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Pure Telekinesis, Chapter 1 (tk, nosex) Lines: 689 x-asstr-message-id-hack: 46323 Date: Tue, 20 Jan 2004 17:10:11 -0500 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: RuiJorge, dennyw This story is for adults only. It contains adult material. If you are not of legal age to read adult stories in your area or if you are offended by adult material, please leave now. If you continue you do so at your own risk. This is my first attempt at an erotic story, even though I've been writing for myself for years, and am an avid reader, of both novels and the erotic works available on the 'net :). But there is something I haven't yet been able to find in the erotic community, or even in the more socially conventional novels that line my shelves, a story about someone with amazing telekinetic power, but no telepathic abilities. In all of the stories I have found, even those that have telekinesis, the main character or characters simply use telepathy to gloss over any event they don't want those around them to remember. Even the great ones, "The Book" series by Blackie and "Tim, the Teenaged MC" by Rass Senip, show how psychics, even though they may run afoul of other psychics or interested government agencies, can pretty much get by with whatever they want because they can control the thoughts of those around them. An idea grew in me, wondering what would happen if someone had superhuman powers, but could *not* control the thoughts or memories of those around them. Telekinesis without telepathy. This work is my attempt to discover what would happen in such a case, what the person so gifted would have to do in order to protect themselves, and what all they could get away with . I only hope it is a fraction as interesting as Blackie and Rass Senip's works. Comments are cheerfully encouraged, flames will be completely ignored. I have seen it often enough, and now I am on the spot, I have to admit that feedback will be the only reason I am posting this. I want to know what you think, what you'd like to see, everything and anything, ok people? ------------------------------------------------------- Pure Telekinesis by: Nilanthos (nilanthos@hotmail.com) (c) 2004 Chapter 1 : What the hell is going on? (tk, nosex) David stared out the window at the trees blurring by and let out a small, almost soundless sigh. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward to rest his forehead against the cool glass. "Are you sure you're up to this, Davey?" a throaty, smooth feminine voice said from the driver's seat. Not for the first time, David thought that the voice belonged as a star on those phone sex lines you saw commercials for at two in the morning. Then he opened his eyes and looked at the hair-lipped behemoth in the paisley Muumuu driving and smiled inside, carefully not letting it show. "Yep," he thought to himself. "This is probably what those women look like too." Aloud, his voice flat with boredom, he said, "Aunt Gina. That is precisely the eighteenth time you have asked that question with those exact words, making a total of thirty-six times you've asked me if I was sure I wanted to go back to school yet." He looked out the window again as his fingers beat out a rapid, precise tattoo on the armrest. "Well?" his aunt slid her beautiful voice into the quiet again. David didn't look at her; he just closed his eyes, sighed quietly, and let his fingers fall in the same pattern as before. "Well, Davey? *Are* you sure you'll be all right?" David grumbled low in his throat and ran his left hand up through his hair, stopped at the bandage above his left ear, traced his forefinger along one edge, and let his hand fall. "Look," he slowly drawled out. "I've got to go back eventually." A few heartbeats passed. Gina opened her cavern of a mouth and David, without even opening his eyes to glance at her, rode straight over whatever she was about to say. "And for the sixth time I will tell you that I am not going to transfer to a school in your district. I'm a Senior this year and I feel I need to finish where I started." Silence fell again, marred only by the hum of the engine and the buzz of the road. It lasted for sixteen seconds. Gina once again opened her mouth and her nephew rode right over her, still not bothering to open his eyes. "Yes, I know that isn't a rational stance. But it is my choice and I would ask you to respect it and stop trying to badger me into changing my mind." David opened his eyes and swiveled his head to look at the mammoth tightly crammed into the space between the seat at maximum extension and the steering wheel. Her mouth was set in a tight, disapproving line and her eyes flickered off the road every few seconds to glance at him. He shook his head slightly and ran his hand into his hair again, once again stopping to trace the edge of the bandage. He briefly wondered if that slight modification to a habit would remain when the bandages were long gone and the hair grown back. He turned his head to look straight out the windshield, not really seeing the Cadillac SUV they were behind at the moment. He just knew that he wouldn't want to see her face when he finally said what had been on his mind for days. "As long as we are on subjects that upset you anyway," David's voice was void, washed free of tone and emotion, as if he were reciting a rather dull mathematical formula that had been outdated since Newton. "My name is David. Day-Vid. Not Dave, not D, not Davey, not even Dickhead." His aunt gasped at the profanity. "David. My mother named me David and that is what I respond to." He closed his eyes again and brought his right hand up to hold his upper left arm. "Well," Aunt Gina huffed. They drove on in silence. He took a deep breath as he ran his hand down the steel door to rest on the handle. One tug and he would be back in a social world he never understood all the rules to, but mostly ignored the ones he did know. He had always been noticeably different and it stood him apart. And, truth to tell, he liked being different from the flock, from the cliques, and thus mostly free from the peer pressure. His left hand went up into his hair again but he let it drop before reaching the bandage. "Okay," he thought to himself, repeating the near- mantra that had gotten him through the start of every day for years. "You've done this thousands of times. Just remember it's like being on a stage. And none of it matters." He pulled hard and the door flew open. His eyes began quickly scanning the crowd before the door was even half open. He was done looking everything over by the time his foot began moving to take his first footstep into the school. This is the first step to being different and surviving in a world of peer pressure high enough to detonate a nuclear warhead: know where everyone is. As his foot came down he took the second step: categorize the crowd. A ring of three male and one female Freshmen, obviously ogling, without looking directly, at Debbie Holman, a Senior cheerleader and the girl rumored to be the future Homecoming Queen. Five girls, some Junior some Senior, giggling as one of them flipped her hair. A Senior male had his hands to either side of a Freshman girl's body, obviously holding her there against her will, he eyes darting, looking for help. One Freshman or perhaps Sophomore male walked obviously alone with his shoulders hunched and his head ducked down. Four Sophomore girls in expensive clothes standing close, sneering at a fifth girl of the same age, dressed in a black leather jacket and torn jeans, opening her locker. Three big Seniors in Letterman jackets tossing a football back and forth. One Junior male standing in front of a barely opened locker, holding, almost hidden in his palm, a small bag with white powder in it while a Freshman girl held an unknown quantity of money subtly out toward him. A single Senior male stood against a locker, eyes darting everywhere and a cruel smirk on one side of his lips. A Junior male passionately kissing a Junior female against a locker. Two Sophomore girls passionately kissing not much further away. And on and on and on.... David's weight started to shift forward to bring his other foot up as he finished the second step and began the third: identify hazards to movement between current location and immediate destination. The group of girls was barely a body-width away from the passionately kissing girls on one side and the drug deal on the other: targets identified, bottleneck (intentional), drug complications (unintentional). The flow of traffic would take him right past the Senior with the cruel smile: target identified, tripper (intentional). The three Letterman wearers with the football, using only one arm apiece to catch and throw it, their eyes flicking occasionally at the passing crowd: target identified, hitters (intentional) The future Homecoming Queen preening herself in a mirror taped to the inside of her locker door: target identified, probable collision hazard (unintentional). The couple that was half a second ago kissing, now talking heatedly, he guy red in the face while the girl gestured wildly, missing a Freshman only because he was short: target identified, definite collision hazard (unintentional). The males and female freshmen that had been ogling the future Homecoming Queen had stopped suddenly as one pulled out a hackey-sack: target identified, possible projectile (unintentional). The hunched-down guy staring at his shoes and shuffling along: target identified, obstacle (unintentional). His second footfall, bringing his body halfway through the doorway, marked the end of the third step and began the fourth step: plan the route. Geek, bottleneck, tripper, Queen, circle, Jocks, bottleneck gossipers (taking the path opposite the drug deal. Traffic would be going against him, but as long as he timed it...), then his locker just on the other side of them. He deliberately drug his foot, carefully judging everything around him and himself as he took the final step: get the rhythm and full speed at the right moment. David had completed this complex series of considerations and planning so many times that he was barely conscious of it or his implementation of it. His foot shot out as he chose his moment and he was striding down the corridor where everyone else was struggling just to walk. He stepped around the geek quickly, hopping on one foot as the tripper tried to strike, catching only air under David's foot. Debbie Holman slammed her locker shut and swung out into traffic without looking, David swinging around her like a top. The sound of a foot striking a beanbag a little too hard was barely audible over the crowd, but David leaned back slightly as the hackey-sack shot by, less than an inch from his nose. Unfortunately, this put him within arms-reach of the jocks. One large hand shot out as is to catch an out-of-control ball, never mind the ball was in the guy's other hand. David tried to lean forward again and lengthened his stride considerably. The ham-hand came so close to the back of David's head it ruffled his hair. David began to skate around the group of gossiping girls in the middle of the hall, on the side away from the drug dealer. His only excuse, he thought to himself a millisecond later, was that his nagging headache must have been affecting him worse than he had thought. He hadn't timed the oncoming traffic properly and he slammed full-force into a younger girl, sending her and her books flying backward. His reflexes took over and he leapt forward without even thinking, smacking into several people's backs as he shot forward and to one side. As he came even with the young girl's left side, his right arm reached around her back and his left hand reached across her to grab her upper right arm. He spread his feet, sliding to a stop as he arrested her fall. David, taking a long breath through his nostrils to try to clear his head of panic, lifted the girl back upright. "Freshman, long brown hair, hazel eyes behind glasses, four foot high and maybe a little more, don't know her but reminds me of someone..." He had just enough time for this thought to run through his head before a voice rang out, "Hey, what the fuck you doin' to my sis?" Conversation stopped instantly, and so did the traffic, as people stepped aside to form a corridor between David and the speaker. David let go of the girl, whose eyes had gone very wide, and made sure she wasn't going to fall before turning to face the source of the belligerent voice. "Ah, FUCK!" he thought to himself as he saw one of the three jocks standing clear of the other two, facing him with fists clenched. "Looks like I'm gonna have more bandages than the one above my ear and around my wrist real quick, here. And I was so glad to get rid of the others. Oh, well." Aloud, his voice flat, "Keeping her from busting her head wide open on the ground, James Dean." One of the remaining two jocks, probably the one who had tried to hit him, said, "That's MISTER Jimmy D to you, Davey Weirdo." One of the girls who had been gossiping and causing the traffic jam spoke up. "Hey, we all know what happened to him so just leave him alone, 'k?" David didn't even have time to be astonished at one of the "beautiful people" who he hadn't already made friends with stick up for him before Jimmy D took a step toward him and said, "So he's an instant orphan, just add car wreck." David felt every muscle in his body tense at once as he began to feel the burn of real anger for the first time in years. Jimmy D took another deliberate step and continued. "It still don't give him no right ta knock my little sis down, just ta cop a feel." A large hand shot out of the crowd and grabbed Jimmy D's Letterman jacket. When the body attached to that hand emerged from the packed-like-sardines crowd of teenagers, David heaved a sigh of relief. "You okay, David?" the new figure, also in a Letterman, asked without looking away from Jimmy D. "Yeah, Rick. Thanks." Rick nodded and pulled Jimmy D toward him. Jimmy D obviously outweighed Rick by about twenty pounds of pure muscle, and had four inches on him, but Jimmy D held out his open hands in a gesture of peace. There was fear in Jimmy D's eyes as Rick pulled him down slightly to be face-to-face. In a loud whisper that carried well through the dead silent hall, Rick said, "You wanna mix it with The Man?" Jimmy D shook his head in quick jerks. "Then drop it and fuck off," Rick said quietly and seemed to just let go of Jimmy D's jacket. But it sent Jimmy D backwards to hit the lockers with a clatter. Rick looked at David and nodded almost lazily, then walked toward the two jocks Jimmy D had been standing with. The one who hadn't spoken yet said, "Rick The Man!" and Rick exchanged an elaborate high-five with him. Traffic started moving again, but much more slowly and with glances shifting from Jimmy D to David, as if the people there were wondering if there would be an acts two to gossip about later. "You okay," David asked the girl he had nearly knocked to the ground as he knelt to pick up her books. "Y-yh-yeah," she almost whispered as she knelt and began gathering also. "Sorry about my slammin' into you," David said as he closed a book and added it to the stack in his other arm. She nodded, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then, all in a rush, but still in a timid whisper, said, "Sorry 'bout my brother." "Hey, James is always like that," David said reasonably as he stood up with a jumble of books, papers, and folders. The girl looked at David, astonished to hear someone call her brother James deliberately, after being threatened so obviously, and stood up with a similar jumble, holding out a tentative hand for the things David had. He handed them over and said, "Let me walk you to your next class, least I could do." The girl smiled shyly up at him and nodded. They turned together to forge through the ever-quickening sea of humanity. "Hey, Davey-Weirdo," Jimmy D's voice rang out over the buzz of conversations that had resumed with the end of the recent spectacle. The conversations and the traffic stopped dead again as every face there turned to see the act two they had been waiting for. "You should try something older than my sis. *Your* sis was a good fuck. So was your Mom. Too bad they're both dead! Either one ever give you a piece?" David spun in place, face red and twisted horribly in fury. "You son of a BITCH!" he screamed. Rick, looking angry but nothing in comparison to David, started to turn toward Jimmy D and cocked a fist back. Before Rick could turn all the way, David felt something inside his head twitch. The bottom half of a locker to Jimmy D's right flew open and the hasp, still sealed with a lock, hit him right in the balls, hard. David felt another twitch in the same place and, as Jimmy D started to bend over, howling in pain, the top portion of the locker flew open and hit Jimmy D right in the face. Jimmy D went down like he had been pole-axed. David didn't see Jimmy D fall because his vision had begun to constrict and fade as he felt his own body start to fall. He saw a florescent light as his body came to a sudden halt, pain flashing on the outside of his awareness. Then blackness as he heard a shrill scream. To him it sounded like it was right next to him and miles far away, all at once. David felt pain, radiating from the top of the hairs on his head down to the tips of his toenails and back again. He thought briefly about never moving again, but his eyes shot open as he remembered...something. It had gone as quickly as it had come. A flash of his sister's face. He only saw a light blur, blinked once and concentrated. A rectangular florescent light panel came into focus. Then he saw the off-white flat panels with lots of little holes surrounding the florescent light. "Oh, yeah, school," he thought vaguely. "But I'm laying down." Suddenly he remembered the hallway and everything that had happened. "So where am I," he thought to himself. "Nurse's office, probably. Wonder who got a sucker punch in on me. Hmm, whoever it was, they were good to get that close to me without me knowing." His mind was getting clearer quickly, but not quite fast enough to realize that moving his head might be a *bad* idea. He got a brief glimpse of glasses on a young female face, then slammed his eyes shut to try to hold in the brains he was sure were leaking out. A sweet voice grated across his consciousness. "Mrs. Lee, he's awake." David let out a quiet groan that quickly turned into a whimper as his own groan reached his ears. "Can you hear me, David?" The booming voice impacted on him like a plane hitting a remote mountainside: painful to the extreme, but only immediately obvious to the ones it happened to. He licked his lips and squeaked out, slowly and quietly, "No wonder... you're a... school nurse. With a... voice like that... anyone... truly ill... would gladly... go to the hospital. The... walking wounded... would go back to class... as soon as they got... a hold on their crutches." "Well!" Mrs. Lee practically shrieked. David whimpered loudly and clapped his hands to his ears, almost crying as that hurt his head even more. "Mrs. Lee," the sweet voice, though still painful, was still almost a balm to his jangling nerves, "he's probably got a bad headache from the way he's acting. And you look so busy with my brother and that girl with the sprained ankle he fell on. I'll watch David for you and call if he needs anything." Mrs. Lee harrumphed, then boomed out, "Is that all right David?" "Please," David managed to whimper out, quietly. Mrs. Lee harrumphed again and stomped off into the other room, the door closing quietly on hydraulics behind her. David tried to open his eyes again to look at the savior of his head, but only got them open a slit before realizing he had rolled over to face the wall. He cleared his throat carefully and whispered, "Thank you." A small, cool hand touched his forehead. "Feels like your temperature went down," the sweet voice whispered, not even grating on David and he smiled in relief. "Who... are you?" he asked, his voice a little louder than before. "I'm Ang," she replied, "You going to be okay?" "Yeah. Just gotta let this... headache go away and I'll be... right back in my classroom. Whatever period this is." His voice got stronger and louder as the pain slowly subsided. It suddenly occurred to him that her name didn't bring up a face or reference in his mind. "Do I know you?" The sweet and slightly throaty giggle that floated lightly on the air reminded David of a younger version of his aunt's sweet voice and he wracked his brain, thinking, "Okay, this doesn't match, from the little I saw she didn't seem overweight. Huh. Maybe some good looking girls get sweet voices too, not that I'm in any shape to check right now." aloud he said, "Does that mean we have met and I should be embarrassed now?" The giggle sounded again, landing like music now on David's ears and he decided he'd have to make whoever it was giggle for him more often, even if she looked *just* like Aunt Gina. "Well, if you can't remember knocking a girl back, risking your own neck to save her, then almost getting into a fight with her brother, maybe you should be embarrassed." David spun over on the cot, regretting it even as he started, but forcing his eyes to stay open, even if the pain did flash across his face, to look at her. His impression was the same as before, but he took a second longer to really look at her. Light brown hair, perfectly straight all the way down to her mid-back, large round glasses, unusual for her age where girls that wore glasses tried to get understated, tasteful frames, but with sparkling hazel eyes behind them, high cheek bones, full almost pouting lips, and very, very pretty, behind those hideous glasses. David had time to wonder why she would wear them when she was so pretty before he realized he was staring and he looked over to the clock. The clock revealed to him that it was 3:00, and he knew school ended at 3:30. Then he glanced back at the Ang, who was smiling just barely, shyly, at him. "Yeah, school's almost over," she said, her voice returning to the shy whisper that almost, but not quite, hid the wonderful, musical tones to her voice David had heard now that he was looking at her. "Damn, with a voice like that and looks like that, she's welcome into my dreams anytime she wants," he thought to himself. Ang blushed furiously and David realized he had spoken his thought aloud. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," he said as he felt his own face heat up in embarrassment. He wanted to sink right through the floor and closed his eyes, cursing himself, being very sure that he wasn't doing it aloud this time. The sweet voice graced his ears again. "it's um, it's ok. I've never...well..." David's eyes opened again as he looked at her in shock. "What, no one's ever told you that you were pretty?" Ang shook her head in denial, her hair floating about her as she quietly said, "No. After all, I'm no Debbie Holmann." She brought her books up from her lap to cover her chest as she said this, blushing even more furiously. David laid back and looked straight up at the ceiling, thinking this might ease some of her shyness. After all, she *had* spoken to him normally when he had been turned away. He quickly ran through all of the responses he could give her statement, starting with what he thought other guys might say and ending with a line he had read in a college-level Human Sexuality book, and decided to just be himself. After all, that was all he could be right? He finally said into the quiet, talking to the ceiling instead of looking at her as he spoke, "You don't need a large set of boobs to be pretty, Ang." She gasped at this blatant statement. "In point of fact, some guy like 'em small. And, straight to the point, even with those glasses you are pretty without the seven hours of primping she does per day." He heard the sound of books and papers hitting the floor so he turned his head to look at her again. Her mouth was open, one hand mostly covering it, the other hand raised to hold against her cheek. He smiled gently at her and said, "And those guys who do only see boobs and makeup are more shallow than most puddles I step into. Rick doesn't see much worth in her, and neither do I." Ang's eyes flashed and the flush left her cheeks as she stood up from her chair, her arms crossing tightly across her chest. Her voice, still musical and lovely, was tinged with what sounded to David like anger. "Yeah, right. If she walked up to you in the hall and asked you up to the Point..." David cut her off by looking her right in those flashing, hard, angry, lovely eyes and calmly saying, "I'd tell her to go fuck herself." Ang loosened her grip on her own arms and her eyes lost their flash, going a little soft. "Oh, come on, all the guys like her. Every time I've hear guys talking to one another, all they can say is how they'd like to go out with her or Janice Coleman." David nodded slowly, keeping his eyes locked onto hers, not wanting to look away, if he had time right now to think about it. "Yeah, they do. Even the guys in the Physics Club stop their meetings to talk about those two. But I'm not other guys. Like Rick, I'd rather have someone worth my time, instead of a trophy to hold my arm." Ang started to drop her arms, revealing to David that she truly was almost flat, but he had to check this with his peripheral vision as he still did not want to look away from the vision of her eyes. "But they are sooo gorgeous," she almost wailed. David closed his eyes as his heart filled with pain and he laid flat on his back. His voice was chocked as he got out "Yeah, so was my sister. Even if she was just a Sophomore, she sure gave Debbie and Janice a run for their money." He felt a small hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to look over at it, following the arm attached up to Ang and was startled to see tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean to remind you," she said softly. He smiled and covered her hand with his. "It's okay, Ang, everything reminds me. It's not your fault." Ang's eyes went very wide and she looked down at where David's hand was covering hers, and a slow flush started to color her cheeks again. David decided suddenly he liked the feel of her hand under his, he didn't know why. As he felt her grip on his shoulder lighten and he knew she was going to remove it, he spoke quickly to try to distract her. "Yvette, she spent two hours each morning just to make sure her hair and makeup were just right. And spent most of the rest of the day checking it. She was pretty without it," he heard a catch enter his voice, but he couldn't repress it, "but still she wasted so much time and energy on that bullshit." Ang stopped and looked at his face intently, leaving her hand on his shoulder, and he realized he was crying. He laughed suddenly, bitterly. "Some guy I am, huh? Crying and everything. Shit." Ang pulled her hand out from under his and softly said, "I'll go get some tissues." HE nodded and started to close his eyes again as she turned away, but something was wrong, his eyes flew back open as she began to fall, face headed straight for the sharp point of the counter at the foot of his cot. "No," he got out, voice strangled, as everything seemed to go into slow motion. There was no way for him to get there in time, but he *couldn't* let this happen. The twitch in the back of his head appeared again and she stopped, suspended with the right lens of her glasses less than a quarter inch from the sharp corner. He looked on, amazed, as her hands quickly reached up to grab the counter. He had just enough time to see her hands grip the counter tightly and think to himself "What the hell is going on?" before his vision blurred and the spinning and blackness took him again. ------------------------------------------------------- This story is copyrighted by me, the author, Nilanthos Heartrender. Please do not repost this story or post it on an archive without obtaining permission first. I can almost guarantee that permission will be granted, but I would like the courtesy. I can be reached at nilanthos@hotmail.com _________________________________________________________________ Rethink your business approach for the new year with the helpful tips here. http://special.msn.com/bcentral/prep04.armx -- 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: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+