[LtBroccoli]

One of Us


Author's Note:  This story contains graphic descriptions of violence, sexual assault, and poor puns.  Viewer discretion is advised.

This story was originally written for The Black Van as part of their bi-monthly contest in March 2023.



Crucible… a situation of severe trial, or in which different elements interact, leading to the creation of something new.

Release… the action or process of releasing or being released.

Awakening…coming into existence or awareness.



I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior.  At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge.  Greater Man.

What am I?  I’m a telepath.  Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects.  I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet.  I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be.  Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep.  Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change.  Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix. 

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about.  How I experimented with triggering that change.  Could I play god and change the odds?

Brief background.  My “coming out”, to borrow a phrase from the time, came when I was a teen and killed the man who I thought was my father.  During a heated argument I went into his mind for the first and last time.  I saw how much he hated me, hated his family, and how he dreamed of me dying.  I used my powers for the first real time, ordering him to die.  An embolism later, and he lay dead at my feet.  My mother died a couple years later, but not before divulging who my real father was.  He was a teep who made a name for himself in Hollywood, using his powers to amass a fortune and fuck anything that moved.  I met him, learned from him, and eventually bested him.  But that is a tale for another day.  By this point of the story, decades had passed and I had transferred bodies a couple times before reverting back to my original one after some much needed work.  Being a teep puts a lot of stress on the body, so after some cancer scares, gene therapy, and a bad case of nearsightedness was fixed, I was ready to put my research to the test.

To create a telepath, one must be awakened, released through their own crucible.  It takes fear, pain, love, and sadness to activate the latent talents within.  Having the genes is not enough, they must be triggered.  It’s epigenetics.  But instead of waiting and hoping that nature would take it’s course, I gave it a kickstart.

It started one night at a high school musical of all places.  Something drew me, other than them performing Hamilton.  I was bored that week, and figured I could have some fun.  Worst case, I end up starting an orgy with the cast and crew, or I’d find some nice piece of ass to blow me Non-Stop.

Get it?  Nevermind. 

As the show started and I was about to make the actress playing Maria Schulyer have a wardrobe malfunction, I pinged the crowd.  It’s SOP to send out a telepathic ping, like a submarine using sonar.  I was shocked when I received a response.  After some focusing, I found the source.

Her name was Megan, a beautiful redhead in her early 20’s.  The air around her was different, it had a familiar taste.  She was a latent, or sleeping teep.  For every active teep, there’s a thousand latents.  They have the ability to turn on, but it’s rare.  I scanned the people around her, nothing came up.  I learned a long time ago it’s dangerous to scan a teep or a latent.  They will know you’re traipsing around in their mind, even if it’s just a weird feeling.  I watched her through her girlfriend’s eyes after getting everything I needed from her in a few seconds.  Name, age, address, what she tastes like, moaner or screamer, all the important shit.  The girlfriend was named Maya.  Both were 19, they were “roommates” at college but neither had come out yet.  Secret lovers, sitting a few rows behind Maya’s family as they watched her younger brother portray Aaron Burr.  Megan had the nicer body, slightly bigger tits, and auburn hair and brown eyes while Maya was a brunette with green eyes with a slightly smaller chest but a firmer tummy.

As tempting as it was to drive Maya completely wild in front of everyone, I had a new mission and purpose for her.  I sat co-pilot in her mind as I made a sound of a hawk in the area.  Only a teep could hear it but a latent would know something was wrong.  Preservation instinct, I assume.  As I made the sound and sent it flying across the auditorium, I saw Megan’s head turn through Maya’s eyes, following the noise.  I knew right then and there that she was one of us, she just didn’t know it yet.

I spent the rest of the night doing as much research as I could on Megan and Maya, without going into Megan’s mind.  I couldn’t risk it, not so soon.  I took the details I gleaned from Maya, her family, and the people sitting near them and worked out everything I could.  I sent this info to my lead henchman Fernando and had him get the gears in motion to form a cult.

Yes, I have henchmen.  Or henchpeople if preferred.  Some of them are women or non-binary.  And what fun is it to be a being of great power without having a cult?  Cults can be very useful from time to time.  What’s the difference?  I match up to 5% of a henchman’s pay into their 401(k), cults are like interns, cheap and expendable.

Anyway, I sat through the rest of the play doing research and ostensibly watching high schoolers do a decent job of telling Hamilton’s story, waiting for the play to end.  As I figured, Maya wasn’t a teep in any way, but Megan likely was.  Maya took a DNA test and while she did have a gluten allergy, she couldn’t read minds.  Megan’s parents both took ancestry tests and combined they had the markers but Megan so far had avoided it.  No matter, I would get her DNA soon.  Sounds creepy, don’t it?

As the show ended, I blended into the background, just a shadow.  Only technology could see me, and even that was suspect.  I had skills with that, too, but rarely needed to use it anymore.  Besides, it’s much easier to convince someone that I wasn’t standing right in front of them or have them erase the footage than it is to block my image from showing up on a disk drive or tape or erasing said footage myself.  I sat back and listened to everyone as I focused in on Maya and Megan.  Megan’s parents were out of town, and the two were going back there to have sex if they could get away from Maya’s parents.  For some reason, Maya’s mom was almost eager to have Maya out of the house tonight.  The dad was suspicious until I planted a command that the both of them were really horny and the boy was going to go to a party anyway.  Once everyone said their goodbye’s I followed Maya and Megan at a discreet distance through the parking lot to Maya’s car.  Idiot didn’t remember her license plate. 

It wasn’t hard to follow them back to Megan’s house, but I stayed at a distance.  Fernando already had eyes on her house from a drone parked in a tree in the backyard.  A little hacking on my part and I was inside her WiFi.  A moment later I was watching her with every camera in the house, including the one in her smart TV that she doesn’t know is there.

Short tangent.  I have another talent.  I can control random numbers over a computer network.  It would be useless if every form of encryption wasn’t based on matching up random numbers.  I read the incoming encrypted packets, change the key to a known value on one end, then I’m in.  From there, it comes down to being a geek with extraordinary talents.  This works out great because I need a line of sight to use my powers, but that can be overridden if I can maintain a network connection and can see the target.

I watched the young couple enter the house and make their way up to Megan’s bedroom.  The two were alone, so no need to be quiet or keep the lights off, at Maya’s insistence.  Not like Maya needed much encouragement, she loved how Megan looked.  It didn’t take long before the two lesbians were in passion’s throes and I safely entered Megan’s mind.  A teep is most vulnerable during sex, also their most powerful.  It’s a weird dichotomy.  I used Maya’s tongue on her clit to distract Megan so I could do a deep dive into her mind.  I kept her stimulated but unable to cum until I was done in her mind, but then she would just cum over and over all night.  That was also part of my plan.  I rode through her mind as Maya ate her out.

What I found was glorious.  She’d always been sensitive to other’s feelings and had premonitions about major things.  A couple times, she got out of sticky situations by thinking about it, but never thought she could really read minds.  Her greatest fear at this young age was watching those she love suffer, and being violated.

I hate to say it, but this was what I was looking for.

After taking what I needed, I removed the blocker keeping her from cumming and watched Megan shake and writhe under Maya’s ministrations.  They went at it for a couple hours, not knowing what came over them.  As Megan passed out, Maya had a sudden urge to go to the bathroom, get 2 q-tips, and swab the inside of Megan’s pussy with one and her mouth with the other.  A little reinforcement from my end kept Megan asleep during this.  Then the young brunette couldn’t help but go downstairs and meet a stranger at the backdoor and hand him those q-tips.  After locking the door, she went back upstairs, shook her head, and wondered why she was standing there instead of lying in bed.

With the technology at the time, it took a couple weeks to get the results, even with my resources.  But the answer confirmed my suspicion.

Megan was a latent telepath.  Now, I needed to release and awaken her.

The event was planned for near their school, on some land one of my former body’s owned.  It was useful because it was the middle of nowhere, only a small cabin and 100 acres of forest.  The cult members arrived, and I chose one white man in his 50’s to be their leader.  These dozen men were easily duped and trained to thinking they would gain real power by worshipping me.  They were greedy, selfish men that I programmed over time.  They thought that these girls were a sacrifice to achieve their means.  What they didn’t know was that they were the sacrifice to bring out her power.

It was Friday night, late in the spring semester.  The young women were in the midst of finals and looking to release some steam at a party.  They’d never make it.  Instead, a black van rolled up beside them and grabbed them off of the street.  Fernando picked 3 of his best for the job and had them subdued before they knew what happened.  The van was registered to one of the cultists who would be dead by morning.  The crew grabbed another pair of girls, two blondes looking for a good time, as a bonus.  I ordered them not to harm Megan or Maya, but they could do what they wished to the others as long as Megan didn’t see it, just in case she awakened.  She could, and did, here these other little freshmen get raped next to them.  When the van stopped, the door opened and one of the henchmen poked Maya and Megan with a light sedative.  Nothing much, just enough to keep her groggy for two hours as they were transported and delivered to the ceremonial location.

Megan awoke to a smelling salt under her nose, hanging by her tied wrists to a wooden beam.  Her red hair hung loose, and her white sundress was in place, but her shoes were gone.  She screamed when she saw Maya, tied down to stakes in the ground, spread eagle as a pentagram of candles and goat-head markers surrounded them.  A spotlight shone on Maya, who had a weird thing in her mouth.  Megan couldn’t make it out.  Maya’s grey dress was still on, but not for much longer as one man in robes and a goat mask stepped forth with a knife.  He said something in Latin, then repeated it over and over as he sliced Maya’s dress off, followed by her bra and panties, leaving her nude to a crowd that Megan couldn’t quite make out.  The leader said another line in Latin, and this time everyone repeated, including a voice right behind Megan.  She freaked out when the leader said the last line in English, “Commence with the Sacrifice of Virility.”

One man stepped forward, wearing the same robes but a smaller mask.  He stood over Maya, and doffed his robes, showing that he was naked and spotting a rather ominous hard-on.  Maya screamed but couldn’t make any words as the man bent, made a prayer, then knelt between her legs.  At the same time, Megan felt hands on her hips pushing her sundress up grabbing at her panties, pulling them to the side.  A hard, meaty stick worked it’s way between her legs and up to her womanly folds, where no man had ever been.  A word from the leader, and she felt a push and thrust into her, followed by pain she never knew, and screaming from her lover on the floor as she too was violated, taking her virginity as well.

The men fucked the two women as Megan screamed and begged, pleading at first for them to stop, then for them to not cum inside of them, and then to not hurt them any further.  On the floor, the first man stopped, then was replaced by another, then another.  Megan’s rapist finally came, ignoring her pleas on not blasting his seed inside her.  That’s when she noticed their speech had degenerated from high-class and Latin to lewd and crude.  They talked about “taking turns on the dyke whores” and “making these bitches bleed.”  That was my work, to be honest. 

Megan was so focused on what they were saying she only noticed the next man behind her when he was dead set on “popping her ass cherry.”  She didn’t know it yet, but she heard him think it a moment before he touched her.  He didn’t use any lube aside from spitting on his cock once.  She felt the lust pour off her rapist before she felt his touch.  As her cheeks were spread and her sphincter speared, she felt pain she never knew before.  Pain and sadness and humiliation and fear.

And total fucking rage.

Like a broken pressure cooker about to explode, I knew it was going to get ugly quick.  I prepared for the blast, protecting myself and Maya from what was to come. She could feel and hear and see all of their perverted desires, how they planned to torture them to death but not before breaking every fiber of their being and bone in their bodies.

It started as her yelling “STOP!”  It morphed into a primal scream, filled with every emotion.  The scream only lasted 6 six seconds, but it was one of pure power.  There was no control to her cries, no targets, just a desire to stop these men.  Well, she stopped them all right.  All twelve of the cultists dropped dead, their hearts immediately stopping.  But that wasn’t the worst of it.  The scream shattered their ears, ruptured the soft tissue in their nose, mouths, and throats, and caused the little sacks of liquid called their eyes to rupture like water balloons.  If that wasn’t bad enough, their cartilage locked up and superheated, fusing their limbs in the position they were in when they suffered.  To make matters worse, Megan’s scream liquefied their brains. 

A quick telepathic scan confirmed that they were all dead.  The only three left alive were myself, Megan, and Maya.  The deathly silence was only broken by Maya’s terrified bleats as her last rapist’s brains dripped out of the several holes in his head.

Megan was in a panic, not sure what happened.  She still had to extricate herself from the sodomite in her and untie herself while Maya worked herself into a fast approaching combination panic and heart attack.

That’s when I made my presence known.

I approached Megan, clapping slowly, making sure to not let her see my mouth.  “Well done, Megan, well done.  Here, let me.”  With a quick move of TK, I removed the corpse that was sodomizing her and the one currently dripping on Maya.  Then, with a subtle suggestion, Maya stopped crying and went to sleep.  This left Megan and I alone to think and talk.  Which, when you’re a telepath, are usually the same thing.

“Who are you?  What are you?  How?”  The tone in her voice was a mix of every emotion, but the fear mixed with curiosity peaked at the end.  She looked me over, dressed in a navy 3 piece suit, looking like I just walked out of a boardroom.  Everything seemed normal, except for the mask.  I could read her read the room.  When she looked around the room, panic took over again.  “OHMYGODARETHEY-“

“Dead?  Yes, and you killed them.  Quite impressive for the first time using your powers.”  I said with my mind.  I stepped closer, leaning in front of Megan, face to face.

“Powers?  What-“

“What am I talking about?  Well, first of all…” I said, removing the mask.  My mouth never moved during the conversation.  I projected my thoughts just loud enough for her to pick them up over of the din of the ever-present background noises.  “I’m not talking.  I’m thinking this entire conversation.  You are reading my thoughts because you are a telepath, like me.” 

Megan shook her head back and forth.  I thought to her again.  “Before you say no, this can’t be, this is impossible, blah blah blah, Think back to how many times your ass was saved because you knew just the right thing to say or do, or how well you are at reading people, or the occasional times that you thought you heard someone say something behind your back, just to realize they didn’t but you caught them red handed.  At those times, you used your powers, but only for a split second.  This…this is your awakening.  I’m sorry it had to be like this, but it takes more than DNA to make a telepath, it takes all of the emotions working at once to light the candle, and that comes from trauma.”  The realization that all of this, all she and her lover just went through, was something I set up, was enough for her to try to kill me.  I blocked her attempt like an adult blocks a swing from a child.  “Go ahead, try to kill me like you did the dozen men laying on the floor if it will help you feel better.  But once you’re done trying to microwave my brain, do you want me to untie you or show you how to untie yourself?  I have a lot to teach you, and we don’t have all night.”  Megan relented from her attack as I used TK to grab the ropes and taught her how to grab at objects with her mind.  I sent her memories of using this skill, like an immersive how-to video.  Eventually she grabbed the rope with her mind and pulled, but wasn’t able to twist the ropes.  “That's okay, you’ll get the hang of this with practice.”

After getting untied, she ran over to Maya, who was sleeping soundly.  “She’s out for the night.  How this goes for her is up to you.  Let her remember everything if you wish, overwrite this trauma with a pleasant memory, change it to something different, erase it altogether, it’s your call.  I’ll show you how to do all of it.”  Megan knelt there for a moment, trying to take everything in.  Just a moment ago, she was ready to kill me.  Now, she was ready to listen.

“How did she survive?”  Megan asked, wiping the gunk off of her lover’s body.

“I protected her.”  I thought to Megan, and she looked at me.  “You are raw, untrained, undisciplined, yet your power is undeniable.  You couldn’t target your blast fine enough to avoid her.”  Megan thought to ask something, but I interrupted her.  “You killing your lover would be too much for you.  Besides, how would you explain any of this to the authorities?  These losers deserved what they got, but Maya, she’s didn’t.  Now you get to decide how to proceed.”

I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what she would select.

“She shouldn’t remember any of this.  But she’ll know something was off.  She’s never had sex with a man before, she’ll know that something happened to her.”  Megan said, holding Maya’s hand while her friend slept.  I sat down next to Megan.

“There’s an old saying.  Plant a kernel of truth inside of a lie.  It makes it easier to swallow.  Let me show you.”

Working with Megan, we planted one hell of a whopper in Maya’s mind.  There was no kidnapping, no rape by cultists, no mass murder.  Instead, they went to a different house party than the one they planned to go to.  The men looked older, and at some point Maya and Megan got talked into taking Molly.  One thing led to another, and they started fooling around with a couple guys, then it turned into several.  Before they knew it, they were upstairs in some guys bed having a train ran on them.  After, they laid there in a mess until they showered where they were horny for each other.  They tried to dress to go home.  Maya’s dress was ruined, so she borrowed some clothes to get home.  One of the guys drove them home.  She couldn’t quite place the face, but she was certain she’d see him again.  They went up to their dorm room quite late and went to bed.

We planted this memory into Maya.  I used the henchmen as some of the guys.  I showed Megan how to modify memories, and create blockers.  We had a lot of work to do, but first matter was to get these women home.  We cleaned off then dressed Maya, then loaded them into an SUV, along with Fernando, myself, and one other.  I would block any memories of us being there.  All anyone would see or remember would be Megan walking Maya back to their room.

The next morning, Maya woke up with a splitting headache and some weird pains, but remembered how the night went.  She partied way too hard and actually had sex with multiple men!  She couldn’t believe she could ever get that drunk.  For her part, Megan seemed distant for the day, like she had a lot on her mind.  Which, now that she was in a dorm hall hearing all of her neighbors thoughts for the first time, was accurate.

The semester ended a week later, and finals were a pain for everyone but Megan.  Once she could focus on who she wanted to listen to, she aced every test.  She accepted a job working for a company I owned, and we spent the rest of the summer honing her skills and learning how to be a teep in a mundane world.  She was a quick learner and study, mostly using her powers for good but did have a naughty streak.

But those are stories for another time.

[LtBroccoli]

Part 2:  Second Chair

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, bondage, abuse, and making light of eating disorders. The author does not condone any of these actions, especially making fun of eating disorders. If you or someone you know suffers from them, please seek help.

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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior. At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge. Greater Man.

What am I? I’m a telepath. Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects. I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet. I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be. Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep. Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change. Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix.

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about. How I experimented with triggering that change. Could I play god and change the odds?

—————————————————————————————————————————

As I mentioned in the last chapter, my most recent attempt proved successful in activating Megan’s powers. Though she was none too pleased with the methods of her awakening, she was even more distressed about what these new gifts meant. Apparently a gang rape and mass murder was less of a mindfuck to her than seeing and hearing everyone’s deepest thoughts around her. This proved especially alarming when she would catch the stray sexual thoughts about her from her brother or father. Hell, most of the times they don’t even know they’re thinking it, or of they do it’s just a fleeting glance. One of the first things a teep learns is to block out the stray thoughts, especially from those closest to you. Nothing freaks out a teep like the first time they overhear a loving family member wonder if they’re a moaner or a screamer.

I worked with Megan every day over the next few months. She told her family that she earned an internship with a media company and would spend a lot of time working there over the summer. That part was true, I offered her a spot with one of my companies to get her away and help her hone her skills. She had to embellish a few parts, like planting suggestions about how much she wanted this position or how she told everyone about this over the last few months. One of her first lessons, it is much easier to gaslight someone when they want to believe what’s being told, and a little suggestion can actually help the receiver create their own memory of the event. Before too long, everyone close to her was on board with the internship, except her girlfriend Maya. They decided to make a long distance relationship work. At least that’s what Megan hoped. She didn’t want to use her powers on Maya again, not after the incident.

After spending the summer working with Megan, I discovered that she was something even rarer than a telepath, she was a genuinely kind and loving woman. She refused to use her powers to hurt anyone unless it helped a greater cause, and would often go out of her way to help complete strangers if it meant it made someone happy. One example was when she stopped a mugging on the subway by planting the suggestions in the would-be assailant’s minds to randomly break into a song and dance number from West Side Story, even though none of them had ever seen it. By the time the train ride ended, everyone in the car was dancing and singing as though it was the most normal thing. Vastly different than what I would’ve done, which would be try to find a reason to spare his life, then when I was disappointed I’d give him an aneurysm and let him die on the train. She chooses happiness and life every time.

Which is why I was so shocked when a couple months into our training sessions in a local non-Starbucks coffee shop, I felt so much anger and rage flow from her it caught me off guard and I was getting mad. By that point, everyone around us in the coffee shop was pissed off about something. I haven’t felt anything this hostile since that time I played with some Q followers and convinced them that one of their leaders was replaced by a lizard person. Megan was pissed at something. No, someone. And she was so mad, she inadvertently projected her anger across the entire store. I quickly sent her a mental message to calm down while I got the rest of the patrons back under control, and then I saw the target of her anger.

Veronica Kilshire.

The flood of emotions overtook Megan and she projected everything at once. They went to high school together and both graduated the same year. Veronica was a straight-A student, overachiever, and general pain in the ass. She was very petite and very skinny. If I were to guess, which I didn’t thanks to the power of mindreading, she was 4’9” and 90 pounds. Competitive gymnast by day, nerdy musician by night who played a variety of instruments while studying for a STEM degree. All of this came at me in a heartbeat, along with the hatred and jealousy Megan felt for this walking box of paperclips. Megan was too busy glaring at Veronica to even notice that she just sent waves of hatred around the store.

Something I’ve noticed in my time dancing around inside of people’s heads is that it’s the nicest people who feel hatred and anger the most. Horrible people are used to negativity, it’s like a warm blanket to them. But for a kind soul like Megan, it’s like a blast furnace opening up. They’re also the first to explore the depths of their hatred.

Veronica noticed Megan and came over, smiling and waving. She was a tiny thing, and looked even skinnier than 90 pounds. I’ve seen elementary school kids bigger than her, and more developed, too. Her dirty blonde hair was straight and came down to her elbows. She wore a red poofy hat that didn’t go with anything, a pair of jean shorts that looked big on her but were likely a size 0 or 1, and two white shirts. The first was a button-down overshirt and underneath that was a polo-like shirt that plunged lower than expected on her. But to be honest, it’s not like she has much in that department anyway.

I sat back and watched their interaction, only briefly introducing myself. Veronica played it nice, putting in a very cheery tone that belied her distrust, jealousy, and hurt around Megan. Megan was as nice and polite as she could be, even though I could feel the seething hatred come off of her. But what she did next straight up shocked me. Megan planted a mental command in Veronica’s mind that she would clear her schedule this weekend and be ready for any plans Megan would send her. Then they talked and exchanged numbers, and Megan made a brief mention about maybe going out on a boating trip this weekend and that she was invited and she’d send her the details. Veronica seemed genuinely pleased. The two girls said their goodbyes, then parted with Veronica leaving the shop.

Megan flashed me with the memory of when their relationship went sour. They were friendly throughout school up until tryouts for orchestra senior year. They were both premier violin players and were competing for first chair. Whoever won first chair would almost certainly earn a full-ride scholarship. That should cause a competition, but Veronica was an all-state gymnast and was invited to try out at nationals, so she already had a full ride to the school of her choice. Plus, her parents are connected. Her dad and stepmom work for a Europaen government, and her stepdad is a doctor in a very specialized field that works with important people all around the world. Before the competition the girls struck a deal that if Veronica won, she would decline first chair and let Megan have it. The morning of the tryout, everything changed and Veronica refused to honor the deal. Megan settled for second chair and gave up violin soon after. Meanwhile, Veronica went to Cornell on a full athletic scholarship. Megan had to settle for her third choice because she couldn’t afford the first two without that help.

Then Megan flashed me an image of what she wants to do. She wants to turn Veronica into her own personal sex slave. Not that she found her very attractive, but sexy enough to want to fuck. But the purpose here was to humiliate her, dominate her, break her and mold her into something new, something useful. She asked me how to program a sex slave, and I showed her what she was looking for. I gave her memories from my past and some I stole from my biological father before I eventually killed him. That’s a long story. Anyway, I showed how to gain and maintain control, how to set mental blockers to keep her from talking or disobeying, and how to use her own psyche against her. It was quite a load of debauchery that she would find both distasteful and alluring. I could feel her arousal from across the table, and we were both clothed in a coffee shop. I also thought to her that this was her mission. I was only along for assistance, and to give Skinny V some well-deserved dick.

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Saturday morning arrived, and Veronica came to the pier dressed in a strapless blue and grey dress that tied around her neck. It didn’t do much to help her figure, but nothing really could do that. Her swimsuits and such were in a little gym bag she carried with her. Megan looked absolutely fabulous in a very light white sundress that worked well with her pale skin and dark red hair. I could feel a tinge of jealousy come off of Veronica in regards to Megan’s body, especially her full breasts and amazing ass. I was dressed in a linen shirt and respectable shorts along with boat shoes. It was one of my boats after all. Everything was going to plan, right up until Veronica’s stepsister showed up. I don’t think Megan knew this was happening, either. She was a cute brunette with a very nice body, at least a C-cup bosom and long wavy hair. This new woman wore a strapless floral patterned sundress and wedge sandals.

Megan and I shared a series of thoughts quicker than we could ever talk. That’s one advantage of being a telepath. In the time it took Veronica to introduce this new woman as her stepsister Taryn, I formulated a plan, pulled up a related memory that I shared with Megan, gave her instructions on how to proceed while doing a surface scan of all three of them. Veronica was mad at Taryn for coming along and at her mother for forcing her to bring her. There was a huge black spot in her heart for both Taryn and her mother. Taryn was glad to spend some time with Ronnie as she called her, and was jealous of the attention their mother paid to her. Taryn had just turned 18 and was starting her senior year in a few weeks. She was a little upset when Ronnie told her to clear her weekend if she wanted to go, and was excited when their mother made her older sister bring her. Where Veronica clearly views Taryn as her stepsister, Taryn sees the tiny older woman as her sister. That would be something I would explore later.

If Taryn only knew what was in store, then she might’ve fought harder to spend the weekend at home or with her boyfriend.

All of this communication took place in a few seconds. Megan went through introductions and sent a subtle suggestion that this could be a long trip, even the whole weekend, and cell phones might not work on the island. Veronica sent a text to her mom then shut off her phone while Taryn texted her boyfriend that she’ll be back in a day or so. A little back and forth and the women were on the boat. I introduced myself as Kenneth. I think that was my name at the time for most purposes. Don’t quote me on that, though. I’ve been so many people over the years it gets kind of muddled and individuality becomes hard to maintain. Again, a story for another time.

We decided to spring our trap on Veronica in two ways, one of them after reaching our destination, a nearby island I liked to frequent, mainly because it was mine. It was relatively quiet and off the beaten path, but did see it’s fair share of action. The tourists didn’t know about it but the rich and powerful did. Which, by the way, included me. It has become a popular place among a chosen few in circles of influence and power. Nothing helps a starlet unwind like being able to get fucked like a whore with no paparazzi around.

The second part of the trap would take place just as soon as we were an hour into our trip, which was coming up soon. But first, a little dive into the women’s sexual memories. Taryn was pretty normal, one of the popular girls who only had sex with committed boyfriends. Pretty vanilla for the most part. Veronica…wow, I should not have gone there. She wasn’t a virgin, and it wasn’t by choice. Well, maybe her coach’s or team doctor’s choice. And seeing the mother’s role in it… Fucked up. Pretty sure that pimping out your daughter to the judges to guarantee a better score is some kind of ethics violation. But both young women were experienced. That helped, since neither of them were virgins and there’d be no extra difficulties with the next part of the plan.

Since this was Megan’s plan, she was in charge. Veronica was sitting on the deck, looking out at the ocean, starting her third hard seltzer of the last hour. She was going to feel it soon. Taryn sipped on hers before going below decks because she “forgot something.” That was when Megan sent Veronica a mental command to chug her drink, then stand up and walk over to the railing looking over the edge of the yacht. Veronica was in a daze as the next instructions told her to tie her hands into the bindings. Megan, who had stripped down by this point, secured the wrists tightly. After Taryn returned with Megan’s strap-on, the buxom redhead put it on, then released her control over Veronica and Taryn. I kept hold of Taryn’s mind, preventing her from helping her stepsister.

Veronica screamed at her predicament and tried to fight Megan off, but couldn’t coordinate her legs. Megan slapped the tiny woman across the face, called her a selfish whore, then ripped her dress down, exposing titties that barely met the definition. She then propped Veronica’s ass up on a chair as she grabbed Veronica’s thong and ripped it off. She fucked the gymnast, her own spit the only lubrication at first. Veronica cried and screamed, begging Taryn for help. All her sister could do was watch.

Watch and play with herself. Taryn was horrified at what she did as she watched her sister’s rape, rubbing her tits and pulling them out to play with them while she spread her legs and fingered herself. I twisted her words from wanting to help Ronnie to “Fuck Ronnie, make the little bitch scream, make that little cunt eat my cunt.” The words horrified both of the girls.

As much as I enjoyed watching, I wanted a piece of them, too. I figured I would start with Veronica. After asking Megan if she was ready to switch, I sent a command to Taryn to strip. God, she was hot as fuck. In the brief moment that it took her to take off her dress, Megan was out of Ronnie and walking over. There was no respite for the gymnast as I took my place and fucked one of the tightest pussies I’ve ever had. And her tears just made it so erotic. I didn’t last long, as after a few minutes I pulled out and shoved my dick in her mouth and came down her throat. A little command to not bite and swallow kept me safe. She fell out of the chair and cried. I made some snide comment about her exceeding her calorie count for the day by swallowing my cum.

I rested for a moment as Megan fucked Taryn good, then took off the strap-on and made Taryn and then Veronica eat her out. By this point I was ready to go again and decided to fuck Taryn while sending her commands to fingerbang her sister while she ate out Megan. That progressed to fisting as Veronica had no choice but to eat out Megan and cry into her pussy.

After I busted a nut on Taryn’s face, I made Veronica clean her up. This led Megan to forcing the stepsisters to put on a little show for us, making them 69 with each other. Megan didn’t let them stop until they each made the other cum twice. We then wrapped that session up with me fucking Veronica in the ass and after I came, Megan pissed on her. That’s not normally my thing, but she’ll do her.

Now, do you know what one of the greatest things about being a telepath is? It’s the ability to overwrite and change memories. So something that is horribly traumatic like a bisexual gang rape and being sodomized with forced incest gets wiped out and replaced with frivolity and drinking and pleasant memories. The trauma gets buried beneath so many blockers that nothing can resurface, and on the tiny chance it does, they can’t do or say anything without me releasing them. The most they’ll feel, if I so choose to let them, is a vague feeling that something happened. I know it sounds crazy, but do you have any clue how many times I’ve done this? I’ve fucked and raped countless models and actresses on this boat on the way to my island. How do you think Big Bang Theory stayed on the air for so long? Shit, do you have any clue how many times I’ve banged that chick from The Thundermans on this boat? I was afraid I was gonna give her permanent brain damage.

I let Megan do the heavy lifting since these were her soon to be slaves. I spotted her since this was her first time. She looked deep into Taryn’s eyes, then sent her a string of commands that translated to sit down, shut up, stop crying, be calm, listen. After repeating the same thing with Veronica, she put blockers around the rapes, only to retrieved upon command from one of us and put in some pleasant memories in their place. Basic ones like staring at the sunshine and lounging around, nothing too fancy. She then instructed each girl to take a shower below decks and change into their swimsuits as we’d be arriving soon. They wouldn’t notice nor care about nudity on the boat for the rest of the trip, and would feel relaxed once we docked. Veronica went first, followed by Taryn. Megan and I both dressed in swimsuits. I wore a basic pair of swimming shorts while she put one a white bikini top and black bottoms. I swear, if she wasn’t my protege…

We docked at the pier on the far side of my private island. Yes, I own a private island. It’s protected by the best seafaring police force in the world, the United States Navy. It’s one of the perks of being as wealthy and powerful as I am. I have a villa and the whole shebang, along with staff that I’ve personally trained and programmed. I’ve had a quarter century to acquire my empire, and I’m just getting started. I’m one of maybe 10 teeps living in North America, and I trained half of them, including Megan. It’s not hard to work one’s way up the food chain, acquiring secret information along the way. I made my first billion after a run-in with Steve Ballmer in the late 90’s when he was worried about how some company named Oracle was getting into the database game and how he was thankful for Steve Jobs coming back to Apple. This was before any of this hit the news and I decided to use this along with some well-timed IPO’s to never need to work again. Of course, that hasn’t stopped me in the slightest. I still like to dabble in things from time to time, but right now my focus is on making sure my species survives and thrives.

Once off the yacht, the girls got off and frolicked for a bit. Taryn looked spectacular in a pink and white floral bikini that showed off her great tits and 6-pack abs. Megan was a pale ginger beauty, and even Veronica looked pretty good. She wore a tiny bikini that she probably had to pick from the tweens section of a designer store, given the cartoonish characters on her swimsuit. I leaned back and watched as they had fun. My villa was visible in the distance, but still a little walk. I chose this landing spot because it is quietest place in the country and separating someone from their support network is vital when making a slave.

Speaking of slaves, I sent a mental message along to the servant who arrived over the crest of the hill overlooking the beach. ‘Prepare the training protocol, Megan is in charge of these two, they are hers.’ A simple acknowledgement was all I sensed but was all I needed.

The main difference between what we do here and what some piece of filth human trafficker does is that my slaves still function in society, and that no one knows what we’ve done. These girls won’t end up in some labor camp in Panama or as some cheap wholes in a Tijuana brothel. They serve as our toys, but are otherwise normal. The best slaves don’t know they are slaves, and after this weekend, Taryn and Veronica will be the best slaves. The best part, we didn’t have to abduct them, they came willingly.

The process starts with some surface scans and telekinesis, toying with them and playing with them, seeing what arouses them. Then I… well we, follow those currents into their minds to perform a deep scan and get their entire sexual history, what turns them on, disgusts them, etc. Following that, we bombard them with their most erotic memories as we begin the programming, mixing in commands for different actions, as well as punishments and rewards. This begins before we even leave the beach, so far below their conscious minds that they would never feel it, aside from being really horny. Then once we get to the villa itself, the overt training begins.

Taryn’s scans were pretty normal. Her most erotic fantasies were pretty tame for the most part, being tied up and pleasured until she went mad with lust or she was edged over and over until she begged for a good fucking. It was almost always one guy at a time, though that changed from time to time. She was pretty straight, though her cheerleader friend Diana did turn her on. She did kiss her on a dare and felt funny afterwards, but that’s about it. She was easy to arouse without her knowledge, and bombarding her with thoughts was fun. Especially the ones from the boat we blocked from her memory. When that would flash into her mind, we attached an extreme horniness to it, to the point where she was sopping wet ‘fantasizing’ about her own rape and fucking her stepsister.

Veronica’s mind, I let Megan do the heavy lifting but I wanted a peek at what made this girl tick. After making sure that Taryn was hot and bothered, I took a stroll in the little gymnast’s mind.

So her mother is a controlling narcissistic sociopath who bodyshamed Veronica, or V as she calls herself, into every eating disorder on the planet. Any time she gained an ounce…sorry, a few grams, it would freak her out. She thinks in metric, she’s originally European. She always feels like the world is against her, which it is, especially her mother. V has an axe to grind with humanity.

Once I got past that first layer of trauma, I wanted to see what turned her on. Turns out, she has a dominance kink. She wants to be in control and hates giving in to others. It’s a reflex to gain power back from her abusers. As far as the gay spectrum goes, she’s pretty far into the muffdiver side but won’t allow herself to indulge. Hell, she won’t let herself do anything fun or sexual. Her last experiences before this were getting molested and raped by her gym coach after her mom pimped her out.

All of her fantasies deal with revenge against those that hurt her or made fun of her. She gave up on romance a long time ago. Her most wholesome fantasy is to be normal. Just to be loved, hugged, kissed, and fucked like a normal woman.

Boy, is she gonna get that in spades starting this weekend.

I could feel the sexual tension in the air. Both girls were turned on far greater than usual, so we progressed to the next phase, idle chit chat as we walked to my villa. During this phase, they have a hard time focusing on staying on conversation while we bombard them with sexual imagery below the surface, occasionally coming above ground when something comes up. While they’re distracted, we augment their sexual drive with a few commands that give us control and adjust their position on the gay spectrum.

Yes, I said gay spectrum. Sexuality is fluid. I’ve been in enough minds to know that everyone is a little gay, it just depends on how much and whether they act on it. It depends on context and how much their conscious mind overrides their desires. Every guy has that “I’m not queer but if I had to…” guy they’d fuck or let fuck them, or has a price tag on how much it would cost for them to suck a dick. They’re not unique, they’re normal. Like the old saying goes, spaghetti is straight until it gets wet.

As I was saying, we inserted some commands while bombarding them with sexual imagery. Megan was going to make Veronica into her little slut this weekend and laid the groundwork under my guidance. Taryn would make the perfect little honepot. We kept them on topic, unable to focus on stopping this overwhelming feeling that they just needed to suck a cock or eat some pussy. Throw in a little TK of playing with their clits while walking and denying them any release, and that mile walk back to the villa might as well be a marathon to them.

When we arrived at the house, everything was ready. We led the girls through the courtyard and down a flight of stairs to the basement. They walked into what resembled a white office with a black leather couch against a wall. Yes, I know it looks cheesy and played out, but the casting couch is iconic and says everything and nothing at once. Secret cameras were stationed in key locations. I took up position behind the camera while Megan sat on the edge of the desk. Taryn and Veronica sat on the couch, and they were so horny they went along with all of her commands. After a little Q&A, the stepsisters started making out. Whatever disgust they felt earlier was washed away in a sea of lust, but we denied them release still. After letting them go for a few minutes of hot and heavy making out, Megan told Veronica to pull down my shorts and suck my dick. Taryn was instructed to play with Veronica but not to touch the penis. The purpose of this exercise was to train that tiny little bitch how to become a good cocksucker. I withheld V from cumming as I sent instructions to her on how to suck dick like a pro (a lesson I pulled from the mind of the great Jenna Haze) and how she will derive pleasure from her partner’s pleasure. I pulled out and blasted both girls in the face with my cum, feeling damn near spent. Megan sent a message to the frustrated girls to clean each other up with their tongues before making V lay on the couch as Megan made Taryn strip her and guide her pussy to her stepsister’s face. Megan knelt over Veronica lying on the leather couch while Taryn slipped between V’s thighs, moved her bikini bottoms out of the way, and went to town on that clam while playing with herself at the same time.

Still, we suppressed their orgasms.

We kept this up through 3 of Megan’s orgasms, using our powers to deny the girls the relief they so desperately sought. By the time Megan climbed off of Veronica, both of our new slaves were begging to cum. That’s when we decided to move to our next phase, rewarding good behavior. For this, I called in 6 of my best performing and well-hung house servants. 3 of them were black, two were Samoan, and the lone white guy had a semi-successful career in porn. They knew their job in this matter.

Fuck the girls senseless.

The white guy, a Samoan, and a black guy grabbed Taryn and pulled her over to the desk. As the black guy facefucked the pretty brunette, the white guy took her ass and the Samoan positioned himself in a way so that he could fuck her pussy. Meanwhile on the couch, they tossed Veronica around like a rag doll, each one having fun with a whole. The fucking went on for twenty minutes before Megan and I decided to let the girls cum, but not until they each did something we wanted. For Taryn, it wasn’t until the guys were ready to cum that we allowed Taryn to orgasm. As her mouth, ass, and pussy were filled with semen, she had the most powerful orgasm of her life. Taryn actually passed out from the shock of it all. A short while later, Megan let Veronica cum as one of the black men went ass to mouth and blew his load in her mouth right as the Samoan shoved his hog in her tight, tiny ass. That broke Veronica’s spirit, cumming so hard from something so vile and unnatural. Megan used this moment to put a blocker in Veronica’s mind that her best orgasms will come from anal sex, ass to mouth, and multiple partners. Normal, one on one boy-girl sex just won’t cut it for her anymore. Not that it really did anyway.

After the casting couch room, the girls were led to the dungeon, where they learned the finer points of BDSM. We started with them both tied up in separate rooms, letting them experience whips and chains for the first time. We made sure to put a little blast of pleasure mixed in with their pain. They they were each led into a larger room where they were both beaten and abused in full view of the other. We threw in some psychological warfare in there, where Taryn would take a beating for V and vice versa. During this time they each received a good fucking. We didn’t withhold orgasms in this room, but focused in training them to ask for permission to cum in this setting. Pretty soon Taryn was released and led to another room where she donned a dominatrix outfit. She wasn’t comfortable with this at first, but a little reprogramming and she was game. V was left in the room while two men and two other women were led in, bound like slaves. They were servants who also were sex slaves, but they all like this part so it’s a win-win. V watched as Taryn tried her best to be a Dom, but even that required a lot of work. She’s a natural Sub and only completely rewriting her personality would change that. It was then V’s turn to be the Dom, and she relished that role. She was a little too rough at first, but after a little tweaking, she was really getting into it. This was her living out her fantasy. She was so turned on that she nearly came just from the control and how she controlled the slaves. She did cum a couple more times after making the slaves perform for her. I made a note with Megan to keep an eye on her out in the real world, we may have created a monster. ‘A very useful and valuable monster’ she replied.

By this point it was getting late. After a sensible feast, yes there can be such a thing, we took the girls to the theater where they walked in on a bunch of men and women watching porn. The servants watching were instructed not to touch themselves or anyone else until the girls were ready and we gave the all clear.. The porn cycled between all of the major genres every couple of minutes. Straight, gay, lesbian, BDSM, incest, rape, threesomes, anal, all of it and then some. At first we let them watch without adjusting their minds to gauge their reactions. They couldn’t leave, but could do everything else. They were shocked at what they saw and the crowd of mostly men staring at the screens. Once we got through the first ten minutes, I sent the commands to the men in the seats next to them to start jerking off, but slowly. The girls shrieked since we paused their programming for a control reaction, then yelled even more when these strange men grabbed their hands and made them jerk them off. The first set of guys blew their loads in the girl’s hands, then got up and were replaced by two more guys, who did the same thing. Rinse and repeat a few minutes later. By the end of the first 30 minute loop, both Taryn and Veronica had brought four guys to climax. When the loop restarted, the next set of guys pulled the girls over to force them to blow them. As much as they didn’t want to, we made sure they had no control over their bodies that would cause the men harm. Each time the men came, they made sure the girls had no choice but to swallow. This went on for the entire loop, each girl blowing 4 more guys. On the next loop, the action escalated as the girls were pulled out of their seats and fucked while watching the porn loop. Well, raped is more accurate. Taryn fucked 3 guys to completion while Veronica took 4.

It wasn’t until the fourth loop that we started the programming back up, but only after seeing where each girl was mentally. Taryn was shocked and terrified by what she’d done, but Veronica was starting to get into it. We encouraged that behavior in V by rewarding her a couple orgasms she’d never forget. Once Taryn got the hint that she should and would enjoy this, which we planted in her mind, she soon felt the same. With a few little nudges, the girls dove into the gangbang head first, fucking the 30 men and women for the next few hours until they physically couldn’t go anymore.

After the gangbang, training continued in their bedrooms. They weren’t going to get much sleep. The first wake-ups were to rapists having their way with them. Once again, we started off with the reactions being real, letting them feel the fear and panic for themselves and the other. Then, we adjusted the training and programming to where they would just lay back and enjoy it under command, or fight back when given a different command. Next, they had another set of visitors, but this time enjoyed themselves. We then sent them commands that the best way to go to sleep is to have a good, healthy orgasm before bed, and encouraged them to fuck each other. After Taryn gave a good fingering to Veronica, she returned the favor and they both fell asleep in each other’s arms. We sent them instructions to be extra careful when around others so as not to arouse suspicion.

The next day, the girls woke up and showered together, but did so in front of the cameras recording everything. By this point, the girls were programmed to perform under command. This turned into a very erotic scene.

After breakfast, Megan had something she wanted to do, a little fantasy of her own to live out. Veronica was given a set of clothes. White lingerie and stockings, a long black skirt, black patent leather pumps, and a white blouse. She dressed in her room, then came out to an auditorium-like room. Megan stood on stage next to her, dressed the same way. Taryn was in the crowd with me, dressed in a replica of her cheerleading uniform. The two girls on stage walked to a table in front of them and each grabbed a violin. On a cue Megan sent to Veronica, they began playing Bach’s Violin Concerto in A Minor. They were both good, as far as I can tell. Even after years of traveling through people’s minds, I’m borderline tone deaf. The two played as well as I think they could, and Taryn was excited to watch her stepsister play. As I hopped into the minds of all three of them, Taryn was happy for Ronnie but sad that she had no musical talent. V was calm and relaxed, lost in the music and enjoying playing again after such a long break. She hadn’t picked up a violin in over a year, but still rocked it. Megan was stunned. She felt that joy and relief come from Veronica, and that revelation about being away for a year shocked her. She had the added benefit of practice and telepathy, but was barely keeping up.

By the time the song ended, Megan put down the violin and thanked Veronica. She then grabbed the tiny woman and walked over to a series of chairs. She said possibly the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard her say.

“Two years ago, you beat me for first chair. Now, you’ll have to eat me for first chair.”

I didn’t say it, she did.

Megan grabbed Veronica by the hand and pulled her in for a kiss. The two made out on stage for a couple minutes before Megan unbuttoned V’s blouse and unlatched her skirt. As she kissed down her body, she stopped at her tiny tits and paid extra attention to her nipples. V responded with a moan, then worked on Megan’s blouse. When able, the smaller woman played with Megan’s tits for a few minutes. Once Megan’s clothes were gone and she was naked, she sat down in the first chair of the violin row and pulled the little woman on top of her, stripping her and caressing her while they made out.

I took this time to grab Taryn’s head and guide it down to my cock. Her training took over and she gave me one hell of a blowjob.

Megan pushed V off of her and guided her down her body to her spread legs, where she gladly ate out the redhead. It didn’t take long for V’s ministrations to bring Megan to her own climax. As Megan regained her breath, she pulled V to her feet where they kissed, then she sat the smaller woman down in the same chair and proceeded to eat her out.

I instructed Taryn to start fingering herself as she sucked my dick. I let her do this for a minute to get nice and wet. I wanted to fuck her in her uniform.

Megan drew an orgasm from V and was well on her way to a second one when she pulled V off of the chair and onto the stage floor. V caught the hint and climbed on top of Megan as they got into a 69 position.

Meanwhile, I pulled Taryn up and pushed her panties to the side as she mounted my dick and rode me like a whore. It took all of my concentration to not cum right then and there, but I really wanted a piece of her ass. After a few minutes, I instructed her to rub her clit with one hand and guide my dick into her ass with the other. She’s turning into a good little slut.

I came in Taryn’s ass just as Megan came onstage. Taryn sat with my dick in her ass until she climaxed, and V came after she begged Megan to bite her clit. We were all satisfied.

After cleaning up and lunch, we finished the programming. They would remember everything that happened, including the memories from the boat ride in, but could never describe them to anyone. They would be free to continue their lives, but would be changed. When contacted by Megan or myself, they are to contact us as soon as safely possible for further instructions. Once received, they were to follow them as best as possible. The aftereffects of the training would remain, but that is part of who they are now. We also instructed them that they need to cut off their mother as soon as possible. They will now see her for who she really is. Do what they needed to do to survive.

The boat ride home was uneventful. We were spent, to be honest. As much as I wanted to bust another load in Taryn, I was tired. Megan was exhausted, and Taryn and Veronica just lounged around. We reinforced the programming, and made sure that they kept a special contact in their phones. It was a method of reaching associates of ours, in case there was ever a need. It was listed under an innocuous name and profession.

We dropped them off at the pier and they traveled home. Megan programmed them to keep in contact with her via WhatsApp every night with a message of what they did, if safely possible. They were her first slaves, and she was attached to them. Over time, they would prove to be very fun and valuable. Veronica used her connections within the gymnastics world to get her close to some powerful people with a fetish for muscular women who look like little girls, and Megan used those connections for her own ends. Taryn was more fun than useful, like getting her entire college sorority under our control for some raging orgies or organizing some crazy events like a bra and panty 5k. She did help by getting us in contact with other girls who were daughters of people in power or who had access to people with influence, but those are tales for another day.

[LtBroccoli]

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, abuse, and shooting porn in the woods. The author does not condone any of these actions, especially going to the woods to shoot porn. There are enough parodies of the Blair Witch Project out there already, we don’t need more of them. Viewer discretion is advised.

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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior. At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge. Greater Man.

What am I? I’m a telepath. Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects. I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet. I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be. Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep. Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change. Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix.

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about. How I experimented with triggering that change. Could I play god and change the odds?

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It had been a couple months since Megan’s encounter with her old high school rival. In that time she’d returned to school and was adapting to living a double life. To the outside world, she was just a regular college sophomore living an off-campus apartment. But to me, she was one of maybe a dozen functional telepaths in North America. We communicated daily. It was easy to spend time with her, since no one questioned my presence on campus. Hell, no one knew I was there unless they dug through security footage, and even then I masked my presence. She learned how to cheat and cover her tracks like no one’s business, and her grades immediately improved. Megan was skilled at pulling the answers from other students and even the TA’s and professors. Her favorite trick was to ride in the TA’s mind as they graded the papers. It’s easy to get the answers right when you can hear the person grading said papers talk to themselves.

Megan was also learning how to manipulate other’s memories, by wiping them, changing them, or planting new ones. When she wanted to humiliate a member of the football team for attacking a friend of hers, she did what any good girl would do and planted a suggestion that he would just start jerking off in the gym showers after practice. This led to some nasty rumors going around school, and a couple stories about him sucking dick in the locker room.

My protege still had a major weakness… She was too nice. Now, some would call me a cold-hearted bastard, and I agree. But then again, I have experience and the knowledge that I’m trying to save my species, I can’t afford the luxury of being nice. She still can, but one day she will discover that most people are bastard coated bastards with bastard filling. My next lesson was to prepare her for that.

One day after class we met up and discussed what skill she would have to learn and master next.

The fine art of betrayal.

Just the thought of hurting someone made her ill, but I reminded her that at some point when her life was on the line, she would need this skill. She reluctantly agreed, but wanted to do practice on someone that deserved it.

Enter the Influencers, Izzy and Elle Starlight. They were a pair of twin sisters that went out of their way to torment Megan back in high school and were now Instagram famous. They were absolutely gorgeous to look at, but they bullied the shit out of Megan. They continuously tortured her in school, and if not for some quick thinking she would’ve been outed before she was ready. Meanwhile, they played the innocent and sweet TikTok celebrities with a penchant for cuteness, fashion, and cheesy kids TV. They were child actors that made their big break playing a little girl on some sci-fi show, but grew up with crazy religious parents that taught hatred and bigotry like they were teaching the girls to ride a bike. If she had to betray someone, she decided that it would be two cunts that deserved it. Her thoughts, not mine.

We wargamed a couple basic battle plans, but the best one involved mindjacking into their sister Ally. Mindjacking is carjacking for the mind. Instead of just reading and hearing thoughts, you take over control and pilot them around their own life. Most often I do this with guards, cops, and soldiers when I need to get somewhere I shouldn’t. How much I let them know and remember is up to the situation at hand. Personally, I let them remember the terror of not being in control only when they deserve it, then I block them from ever talking about it. One time I did this with a prick pastor that was one of those closeted gays that hated himself so much that he organized book burnings. Well, I took control, dragged him down to the no-tell motel and had him get fucked six ways from Sunday by every guy in the place. After there was enough evidence, the cops and a local news crew were somehow alerted to the situation. His reputation was destroyed instantly, but the memories lived with him until he offed himself before his trial.

But I digress. The plan was Megan would take over Ally’s mind and convince the girls to join her in the woods for a party or something they like to do, like burning witches or making fun of the handicapped. But Ally, under Megan’s control, would lead them into a trap. Ally did a lot of their planning and logistics, so they trust their sister.

The easy part was coming up with a plan. The hard part was getting close enough to enact it. Megan’s powers are still growing, so she needs a direct line of sight at all times to maintain control. So when she tracked down Ally at a local coffee shop, she had to keep an eye on her at all times until the plan was set. I was there as backup in case she needed me, but I let Megan take the reigns on this one. After diving into Ally’s mind, she quickly found what she was looking for: Izzy and Elle’s trust. They trusted their sister implicitly since she managed all of their bookings and was the oldest. Ally was pretty good looking, but blonde haired, blue eyed twins don’t come around every day.

Megan took control of Ally and booked a photo shoot for the twins under a full moon in the middle of the woods, on my property of course. It would look like and feel like a normal photo shoot until a command phrase was given to the crew. Then the fun would begin.

Did I mention that the crew were my henchmen? That feels like an important piece of information to mention.

Since Megan is still learning her powers, she couldn’t let Ally out of her sight, so she used Ally to tell the girls that a driver would be around shortly to pick theme up and to bring their dance outfits and makeup bags along. I sent Fernando around in an Escalade I keep for limo-style purposes. People notice limos but barely notice an SUV. He was over to their house in under two hours, and had them on the way to my place in the woods right after. The sisters called Ally to confirm everything, and Megan used Ally’s voice to reassure them that this was on the up and up. After hanging up, we made our way to the clearing in the woods. It was a couple hour drive from where we were, and Megan had to maintain control over Ally the entire time. Let me tell you from experience, running two or more people at once takes a toll.

We arrived at the clearing, and a crew of a dozen of my henchpeople were setting up everything needed for a photo shoot in the woods, including a portable generator, lights, a dressing room that was just a nice tent, camera equipment, and a pretty 4-poster bed. After getting everything set up, I gave the all-clear for Fernando to bring the twins. He was doing a bit of a holding pattern, driving the twins around for a while through some backroads. They were a little perturbed when they arrived, having been going in circles for so long. Ally and the director gave them a good excuse about how they were still setting up and there was an issue with the property owner giving them a hard time. The girls were on guard, but that wouldn’t matter for long. They were in the middle of nowhere, would soon have no cellphones, and were about to be ravaged by a dozen men and women.

The twins Izzy and Elle Starlight went to their changing tent to put on their first costumes, some flowing light blue gowns that looked more like togas. One of the women on set helped them with their makeup. I used this opportunity to enter their minds for the first time. They were two totally self-absorbed cunts, and their instagram fame went to their heads. Izzy was the nicer of the two, and she was a total bitch. Apparently she pushed Megan down the steps at school. Elle was the one that spread a bunch of rumors about her being gay and a slut. Both girls were worshipped in their little circle of Pious Instagram Influencers, and bragged about how they never had a boyfriend because they were saving themselves even though I could list at least a dozen guys and even a couple girls they fucked.

I was going to enjoy this.

Once they were ready, Ally laid out how things would go for the photo shoot, and then the director gave the twins a lot of commands and poses to get into. The theme of the shoots was “Sleeping Under The Stars”, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

I checked in with Megan, who was struggling with keeping Ally under control. Ally fought the entire time under Megan’s control and tried to warn her sisters, but Megan was a step ahead each time. Eventually she thought to me that after the last planned costume change the director would say that he wanted one more set. That’s when she’d turn this into a steamier photo shoot. I caught the images she was thinking of.

The twins went through a few costume changes, from the blue gowns to matching sequin dresses to complimentary bikinis. Once they finished with the bikinis, Megan gave the message to everyone that things were going to heat up. The director and crew was in on the plan the whole time, but Ally and the twins were horrified when the director gave them directions to climb onto the bed and start posing in erotic poses. As much as they wanted to fight back and scream, they couldn’t. Their terror only grew as they felt an overwhelming compulsion to follow each and every instruction the director gave them, no matter how much it went against everything they believed in.

The posing in bikinis soon gave way to hugging and caressing, until eventually the director told Izzy to kiss Elle. She did as told, but the look in her eyes and the sheer terror flowing from her mind was glorious. Then watching Ally, their older sister, unable to do anything to stop this was just the chef’s kiss.

Speaking of a kiss, it took all of Megan’s power to keep everything under control and continuing as planned while the twins made out. I sent her some encouragement and tips for keeping so many minds under control, like overwhelming them with arousal. She sent a horny-as-hell message to the crew, which helped keep them under control until she told them it was time to move. Of course, she didn’t need to control them, they were already some of my most trusted henchpeople but she could use the practice.

The director gave the twins instructions to undress each other, then play with each other. Try as they might, Izzy and Elle couldn’t say no as their fingers explored each other’s pussy’s. Ally screamed out in her mind but couldn’t do anything but rub her tits and unbutton her jeans at Megan’s instructions watching her younger sisters lez out with each other.

It was when the sisters moved into a 69 that I almost jumped in to help. The girls fought as hard as they could to not eat each other out and Megan almost lost control of Ally while battling the twins. It took a moment, but she regained control and after a quick blast of erotic imagery into Izzy’s mind, she leaned down and put her mouth on Elle’s pussy. The twins ate each other to orgasm while Megan made Ally masturbate in full view of a dozen people.

There’s a special kind of violation that most will never experience, and that’s being a passenger in their own body. It’s a very rare form of rape, but for the telepath it is one that is truly exquisite. Forcing someone to act against their nature is easy with brute force, but taking over and letting them see what their body can do without any input from them is absolutely terrifying. This is actually harder than simply brute forcing a person to sleep and taking over, because a person of strong will can and will fight back against the invader, even if they don’t know what’s going on. So when Ally stripped naked and joined her sisters on the bed, she did so as a passenger in her own body.

The three sisters fucked each other against their will, but to anyone watching the video they would think this was the hottest lesbian porn ever and that they do this all the time. Every time they tried to scream for help, it just came out as sexy talk, like “fuck me harder” or “lick my ass.” This was a trick I taught Megan on how to control people. They couldn’t ask for help because every plea was turned into an incestuous demand.

After this scene went on for a while, I sent a thought to Megan that it might be time to let the crew have some fun, and she agreed. We started with the women on the crew, the makeup girl and one of the grips. They joined the sisters on the bed, having themselves a good old time at Izzy’s and Elle’s and Ally’s expense. But it wouldn’t take long before the guys joined in. Megan let the fear and terror show on their faces as one by one the men joined in, except for the director and the sound tech. And they would have their fun later on. But try as they might, every time Izzy or Elle wanted to scream for help, it turned into yells of encouragement. No meant Yes, Stop became “more”, please stop became “please don’t stop”, leave me alone turned into “fuck me harder.” Even when the twins got tag teamed by two big, burly crew members, they could only voice their displeasure with cries of ecstasy.

The fucking lasted about an hour until everyone had a go at the twins. But Megan felt there was something missing from this betrayal. That’s when she decided to have a little fun of her own with the sisters. She removed the blockers from one girl at a time but forced the others to hold down their sister while they were raped. At first it was Ally, as Izzy and Elle each held down an arm as the boom operator fucked Ally in the ass. Then it was the Izzy’s turn as the lighting head fucked her senseless. Finally Elle was buttfucked by the intern while her sisters held her down and encouraged the buggery. All of this, the sisters experienced fully, even if they had no control over their actions.

The action ended with the men giving a bukake bath to the girls, the last load coming from the director as he delivered a point of view shot.

Once everyone had their fun, Megan went to work on their minds. They would remember the photo shoot, the sex, all of it but could only talk about the photos. They know that proof of the debauchery exists, and even if they one day break the mental lock, they will not be able to do anything about it for fear of having everyone in the world see the Starlight Sisters dyke out under the stars. They were then cleaned up and sent home. Megan wiped her and me from their memories, and clouded everyone else.

They went on with their lives, but as time went on their photo shoots became more risqué. It’s not like they were making out on Instagram, but they embraced sexier clothes and poses over time. Turns out that Megan left them with some instructions on being more tolerant, and this included more bikini shots and fewer bible verses. I’ll take that as a win-win.

We did have other run-ins with the sisters over time. Having a pair of hot blonde twins at one’s disposal can be very useful for any number of situations, both legitimate and carnal. I remember one time I employed them to grease the wheels on a negotiation with the head of a large corporation that I was looking to acquire. Izzy and Elle helped seal a deal that made everyone happy, except for the twins in question. But then again, their happiness was not my concern in the matter.

As for Megan, she learned a lot about her powers and how to use betrayal effectively. She still had a long way to go in that department, but showed some serious improvement. She would get practice down the line, but those are tales for another time.

[LtBroccoli]

Inside the Mind of a Monster: The Mindwalker Memoirs, Part 4

Tags: Sci-Fi, M/F, Rape, Viol, Snuff (imagined), Mutilation

Author’s Note: This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, abuse, and drinking lots of coffee. The author does not condone any of these actions, except coffee. Coffee is life. Viewer discretion is advised.

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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior. At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge. Greater Man.

What am I? I’m a telepath. Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects. I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet. I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be. Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep. Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change. Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix.

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about. How I experimented with triggering that change. Could I play god and change the odds?

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As the holidays approached, I spent more time training my young protégée Megan on the finer aspects of telepathy and blending in to normal society. The lesson this day was mindless chit-chat. I trained her on how to hold a conversation while performing background tasks like scanning a mind or reprogramming someone. It’s one thing to invade a person’s mind while quiet, but it’s another set of skills to do so while droning on about the weather. We did several exercises sitting in the coffee shop, where I would pick someone in the crowd and scan them while talking about useless things, then monitor Megan doing the same thing. We scanned most of the people in the cafe half a dozen times before she mastered that skill, each time going deeper and deeper on the scans. See, even mundanes can tell when a deep scan takes place. They don’t know what exactly happened, but they know something happened. They might get a weird feeling of deja vu or that feeling that someone just walked on their grave. There were a couple times that Megan seemed to go a little too deep on people and they looked around, but they quickly dismissed those thoughts.

While we sat there practicing chit-chat for two hours, something dark entered the cafe. No, not a black person or the Grim Reaper, but a darkness of mind. A telepath can ‘see’ mental injuries and diseases like depression or BPD. Depression has a blueish tint while mania is bright pink. This was a deep, dark stain emanating from a man in his early 40’s. He was an honest to god psychopath. Megan flinched when she saw him, and he must’ve noticed her. A slight grin came across his uneven mouth as his mind wandered into what he’d like to do to her. She steeled herself and after pushing away images of him violating her, she projected an image into his mind of her going to the bathroom. He stared in that direction as he made his way to the line and ordered an Americano with 2 shots. The man took a seat in the back corner of the shop opposite of us, where he had an eye on our table, the hallway to the bathroom, and the exits. The evil thoughts poured from his mind as she cloaked herself. I helped her maintain her cloak as we both went into his mind.

Frank Hedwig, 42 years old, from Santa Monica, California. He was a bald, skinny man who had a long streak of woman hating and self-victimization that he twisted into some sort of revenge path. He worked in financial IT and travelled around the world looking for his next thrill. But his thrills came from hurting and killing women.

Megan took the lead as she dove into his mind to see what he’s done. It started as a kid with torturing animals nearby, being bullied by everyone, then joining the Marines. After a few years and a couple tours in Afghanistan, he had his first taste of death outside of combat. He killed two men who didn’t stop fast enough at a checkpoint, then later on went with a small squad to the man’s house. After a ‘thorough search’ where he raped the man’s wife, he choked her to death then killed the rest of the family to cover his tracks. A few more kills in war, and he left the Marines with a couple medals and a bum knee. From there, he went to school and tried to satiate the hunger other ways, but he always went back to how it felt to choke the life out of that Afghani woman.

Frank’s first kill after the Marines was a twofer, hikers in their mid 20’s that went off the beaten path. He tracked the women for 15 miles before they rested and separated. When the pretty blonde went to the woods to pee, he subdued the brunette with relative ease, then startled the blonde midstream. They put up a fight, just how he liked. He took his time enjoying them over and over for the next two days before he choked the blonde and stabbed the brunette. The coyotes found the girls before the authorities did. Following that, he focused his efforts around the Southeast, taking advantage of rural girls and women trying to get away. He had a field day in Alabama but moved when things got a little hot and had some fun down in Central America. Nowadays he usually picks up hitchhikers and runaways, unless something really catches his fancy.

Megan and I had a quick mental conversation on what to do with him. I wasn’t expecting her to jump straight to killing him, but I saw how she weighed that option. This man, this monster, has killed dozens of women over the years and would continue until he was stopped. I asked her how she wanted to it, and after thinking for a moment about exactly what I said to her and what that meant, she came up with a plan.

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Frank couldn’t believe his luck. He hadn’t planned on doing any ‘shopping’ today, not for a while at least. His last trip to the city ended this pretty black piece of ass that screamed and cried just the right way as he choked the life from her. He knew the cops didn’t really give a shit about another dead black whore, but he still wanted to keep things away from him and his hideaway for at least a few more months.

Then he saw her.

That little ginger bitch sitting with the guy in the suit was just screaming to find out what Frank was all about. A beautiful face, nice long red hair, pale skin, the works. She dressed like some dyke art student with a giant sweater and a flowing skirt, but even that couldn’t hide her body. He caught her eye when he walked in and kept it as she scurried off to the bathroom. Frank kept his eyes peeled across the whole cafe, waiting for that bitch to come out of the bathroom. He pulled a notebook out of duffle and made it look like he was writing something to pass the time. She took a while to come out of the bathroom, and when she did, that man in the suit had already left. Frank shrugged, must’ve missed him head out. He sat there, keeping an eye on that little cocktease. He had a feeling that she was leaving soon, so he knew he had to get a move on if he was going to get his hands on this little redheaded cunt.

Frank made his way to his van and waited. It was getting dark, but it was still early enough that lots of people walked around. The crisp air was just chilly enough that most of the sheep wore coats, but not his little redheaded cunt. Her long red head hair stood out like blood in the snow. He watched as she walked down the street to the nearest bus stop, but missed it as it drove off. She moped and pouted as she walked down the street, oblivious to the world with her headphones on.

He followed from a distance, lurking from his windowless black van. She walked 17 blocks as the weather dropped from slightly chilly to downright cold, and she wandered further away from the main drag. Frank figured that she must be getting close to her destination. It was make or break time. When she turned left down the side street near the construction zone, he knew it was make it time.

It was awkward doing a grab and snatch without a partner, but he had the weather, distraction, and exhaustion on his side. He slid the door open, then drove up to a point where she was trapped by a series of traffic cones and signs. By the time that little slut knew what was up, she was already laying in the back of the van, screaming in pain from the taser barbs sticking out of her back. A quick moment of gagging her and handcuffing her to the wall of the van, and Frank was on his way to his cabin for a good old time.

He stopped the van outside of the city to dump most of her belongings in a dumpster outside of a McDonald’s. Frank knew from experience that these were emptied every night to keep the homeless from diving through them for free food. Megan. The Ginger Cunt was named Megan. He kept her license as a memento, but dumped her phone and laptop after going through them and copying the data onto his computer. No need having the cops track her to his cabin via GPS. After finishing a quick meal, he doubled back across the city towards his cabin.

She mewled and cried so sweetly in the back of his van, he knew he had to have a taste before he got home. After driving for an hour, he pulled over in a secluded clearing he knew of and took some time to get to know Megan. She begged and pleaded as best she could as he pulled her sweater up, pulled her gorgeous tits out, and sucked and bit on the nipples as he forced his way between her legs. A couple minutes later, and he tore her panties off and plunged into her twat. He didn’t last long the first time, and didn’t care if she cried about cumming in her pussy. She wouldn’t live long enough to have that kid anyway. Before he went back up front, he gave her a bottle of water spiked with some mushroom-like supplements that would fuck with her sense of time, and took off her Doc Martens.

Another hour or so later, and they arrived at his cabin, deep in the middle of the woods near a fresh water lake. It was dark, cold, and a small layer of snow covered the ground. Frank put a dog choke collar on Megan, much to her protests against it, and dragged her out of the van. He walked her across the rocks and sticks and snow barefoot the quarter mile to his cabin. He hooked the collar to a hook dangling from the porch ceiling as he turned on the wood stove. As the cabin heated up, he took his time cutting off Megan’s clothes in the cold winter air, leaving her naked and shivering for almost 40 minutes before he brought her inside.

Once she was inside, her true nightmare began. He tied her up to a spot next to wood stove, dangling from her wrists. Megan was freezing on one side, roasting on the other, and Frank took advantage of that by beating her all over her body before it was time for some more fun. He sodomized her as her face and tits dangled dangerously close to the hot wood stove. After he raped her ass, he let her hang from her wrists for a bit as he prepared her bed for the night. Once that was ready, he took her outside for a bathroom break like a dog. He kept her outside until she at least peed, then dragged her back inside and bound her to the bed. She could feel the rubber sheets beneath her. Frank spent the night raping and hurting her several times, not letting her get any sleep for more than hour throughout the night. When he was finished for a few hours, he left her with a gift of several sewing needles in her tits. He slept like a baby listening to her cry.

The beatings and rapes continued for the next couple weeks, but the mental torture was worse. The only food he offered her was Alpo dog food, and Megan didn’t eat for the first couple days, but on the third day was so hungry she couldn’t hold back any more. That’s when he started her training as a cocksleeve. If she wanted anything remotely human, she had to earn it. He’d beat her within an inch of her life for the hell of it, and knocked a couple of her teeth loose when she couldn’t help but gag on his cock.

The final night with Megan came a few weeks later. Her period was late and she was sick. He told her that she was finally going home. That’s she knew she’d be dead soon. He untied her from the bed and led her naked to his van. She mustered all of her strength to run, but that’s when the first swing of the sledgehammer clipped her in the head.

Megan woke up with a splitting headache, tied down to a table of some kind. The world rocked around her, and a strong chemical smell hung in the air. Her tormentor smiled as he saw her wake for the last time. Then he swung the sledgehammer over and over, breaking her hands, arms, feet, legs, knees, elbows, hips, shoulders, and ribs. Blow after blow after blow brought her closer to death, closer to making the pain go away. But instead of killing her outright, she felt the table move, then tip up. The last thing she would feel was the cold water as she was dumped into the depths of the lake, unable to swim. It took a few minutes for her to eventually sink to the bottom, panic filling her eyes as she drowned.

That’s when he heard the clapping come from behind him.

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“Well, well, well, lookie what we have here.” I said, startling Frank. But nothing shook him more than what he saw next to me on the boat.

“You!” He pointed at Megan, dressed in her original clothes from the cafe. “What is this?!”

“Shut up.” Megan said with a sternness I’d never seen before. Then again, she had just seen her brutalization and death. Frank tried to reply, but he couldn’t. Megan strode to him and slapped him, knocking him all the way back to…

His cabin, where he hung from the same hook that she dangled from so many times. Frank was naked and gagged, his body scarred from the various beatings endured over weeks.

“Now, let’s get to brass tacks.” I spoke, calmly and succinctly as I walked around him, and through the furniture and the wooden stove. “Right now you’re trying to wrap your tiny little mind around what just happened. How long do you think it’s been since you first saw Megan here? A few weeks? A couple months? Would it break your brain to see what time it really is?” I snapped my fingers.

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For a brief second, Frank was back at the cafe. His hand was sore from writing so much in his notebook, but he couldn’t focus on what he wrote. Across the room sat Megan and the man in the suit. He looked at the clock behind them. It was 5:38 PM.

41 minutes.

He looked down at the notebook and realized what he wrote, what he was writing without thinking.

Names, places, acts of violence and degradation, the works. It was a listing of all of his rapes and murders over the years.

That’s when he heard another snap.

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“The finger snapping is complete theatrics, but it gets your attention.” I said to the man dangling from the hooks in the ceiling. He hung there, confused as all hell about what was going on. I once again walked around him, through the wood stove that caused him pain.

“You look confused, so let me sum things up for you since I don’t want to spend a moment longer here than I have to. You, Frank Hedwig, are a monster. A pure, unadulterated monster. And you decided to attack one of my friends. But not just that, you picked a fight with the most powerful woman alive. Do you have any clue what she’s capable of? She just created an entire universe for you to live in, and your first reaction was to rape and kill her? You lived what, two months in less than an hour? And now, here you hang from your own devices, in the Hell you put her through. But that leaves a question, what should we do with you? See, I’m old enough and bitter enough that I would just give you an aneurism, let you die right here and now. But that’s not my decision. It’s hers.”

Megan walked forward and stabbed Frank in the gut, T-1000 style. His gut split open, and his internal organs spilled on the floor below him. Unspeakable pain and terror filled Frank’s face as he watched his intestines fall on the floor. The pain was unbearable, but something happened. Just as he was about to pass out and die, his organs returned back to his body, forcing their way back into place, followed by his skin resealing itself, all of which in excruciating pain. Just as Frank healed up from the disemboweling, She roundhouse kicked him in the left knee, shattering it. But once again, before the pain became too much and he passed out, his body healed itself, rather painfully.

“Death is too kind for you.” Megan said, as footsteps approached. The first to arrive was a copy of Frank, then another. The first was dressed like Frank was when they first met, the second in a fancy suit. “These are simulacrums, copies of you. I made them base off of your experiences. The one in the suit is your new outward personality. He will take over as your voice to the world. He is amazed that the police have not caught up to him yet. As we speak, he’s bragging about your deeds, writing them all down right now. He will gladly confess to your crimes so that he can take credit. He will make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life in prison. The one that looks like you is here to make sure that you never, ever forget the pain you’ve put all of these women through. He will do to you what you did to them. And you will not die. I will not allow it. I’ve programmed your psyche so that you cannot die from self-harm or self-sacrifice. When you get to the point of passing out or dying, you will repair yourself in a very painful manner and you will experience everything over and over. And just to make sure that this version gets it right…”

Megan snapped her fingers. From the shadows, a woman approached. Then another, and another. Then a few more. Dozens of women approached in various stages of abuse, mutilation, and dress walked forward. Dozens and dozens arrived. With a closer look, copies of the same women arrived in as they were when Frank met them, raped them, and killed them. Looking out at the crowd, a few men were scattered around but for the most part, these were all of Frank’s victims.

“These are the ghosts of your evil. They are here to make sure that you experienced the pain and fear they went through. They are your victims, and now you are theirs.” Megan said, her voice starting to crack from stress. I stood next to her, making sure that I had Frank’s attention.

“Just so you know, here’s how things are going to work out for the rest of the night and the rest of your life. You will pack up your things and leave the coffee shop. You will walk down the street to the alley to the south of the building and lurk in the shadows, waiting for a single woman to appear. You will lunge at her with your knife and attempt to grab her and drag her back to the alley. You will attempt to rape her. How far you get depends on you. But the police will come and have no choice but to apprehend you. When they do, they will find your notebook of nasty deeds and will hold you while they investigate this crime and others. You will stand trial for your deeds, you will go to jail and be found guilty and sentenced to death, but your lawyers will claw and fight for a commutation of your sentence for years. And they’re good lawyers, too. I’m hiring them through intermediaries so even if by some miracle you can get past this mental block and mention anything of what happened they won’t know who we are or how to track us down, but we will know and you will have an accident. So, enjoy the rest of your life. We look forward to watching you writhe in agony for the rest of your pitiful existence.”

Megan and I walked through the crowd in Frank’s mind as his victims and the simulacrums went to work on him, his screams of agony fading as we returned to our own minds.

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Megan was shaken by her experiences in Frank’s mind, but calmed down after a couple moments. We sat at our table in the cafe as I watched Frank finish what he was writing, gather up his belongings, and leave. I followed him telepathically outside and watched him make his way to the alley South of the building and stand there, knife in hand. It didn’t take him long as he found a good looking Asian woman in her mid-40’s walking back to her car. He grabbed her, pulled her into the alley, and went to business ripping her coat open, her dress up, and forcing himself on her, not worrying or noticing her screams for help. Megan scanned the area and found an older man walking a dog in direct eyesight of a cop car. She used him to zap a message to the cops in the car that they should really, really check out that parking lot by the coffee shop.

A few moments later, police sirens and lights flared as two officers driving by just happened to interrupt a rape in progress. The assailant was tased when he tried to run but couldn’t get far with his pants around his ankles.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind as Frank Hedwig was identified as the I-90 Killer. His DNA from the assault matched a series of murders in Idaho, where he was extradited to and is awaiting trial. Those that have seen him can’t believe how much he talks and drops hints about his crimes, but note he seems like he’s always in pain.

Good, no one deserves it more than him.

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As Megan and I were at one of my offices going over the news one day a week after the run-in with Frank, she stopped me right before a lesson on soul splitting because she had something on her mind.

“You want to ask something.” I said the obvious. I trusted the walls and location that nothing would get out, so I decided to use actual words this time, not just thoughts. Plus, Megan’s still resorts to using her mouth for tough questions. She shifted in her chair, long red hair cascading down over her shoulder.

“You said something last week that bothered me. Scared me, really. You said I was the most powerful woman on the planet. How much of that was a lie?”

One thing that is next to impossible is lying to a telepath.

“It’s not too far from the truth. You’d know if I was lying, so I’ll say you are at this moment, probably the most powerful woman in North America and could easily make a case for most powerful in the world. You have the talent and ability, but are raw and need training. Of course there’s only 5 or 6 women teeps in North America, and I’ve trained all but one of them. What you did in Frank’s mind would take them years to get even close to trying, but you created simulacrums on the fly and brought back all of his demons after only a few months. That’s impressive.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really. But you still have a lot to learn, like today’s lesson on soul splitting, or as the Harry Potter fans call it making a Horcrux. You’ll learn how to split a part of your consciousness and put it in another item or living being. You can then use it as a backup if your body dies or you need eyes and ears in places you can’t get to. If the sliver is large enough, you can extend your powers there. Now, let’s begin…”

We spent the rest of the day trying to put a piece of her mind into her cell phone. It took a while, but eventually it worked. Tomorrow, we’ll try with one of the security guards.

[LtBroccoli]

Team Work Makes the Dream Work: The Mindwalker Memoirs, Part 5



Author’s Note:  This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience.  It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, abuse, and using other people like puppets.  The author does not condone any of this, especially the puppet part.  Most people suck at ventriloquism.  Viewer discretion is advised.


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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior.  At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge.  Greater Man.

What am I?  I’m a telepath.  Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects.  I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet.  I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be.  Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep.  Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change.  Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix. 

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about.  How I experimented with triggering that change.  Could I play god and change the odds?

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Looking back on that first spring training Megan, I could see how our actions here led to her capture later that year if someone knew what they were looking for.  But then again, that would be the last time I let my guard down for a very, very long time. 

It all started right after Megan finished finals for her Sophomore year in college.  We spent some time in our favorite coffee shop in what I call incognito mode.  The two of us sat there as ourselves but to the outside world we looked like other people, coming in and out taking that same corner table all day.  Anybody watching us would see some businessmen talking about MLM’s with younger visitors, a couple girls just chatting, a man with a heavily waxed mustache working on his screenplay, and a young couple in love giving goo goo eyes at each other the whole time.  They didn’t see me dressed in a tailored suit or Megan in a white sundress.  Even if someone scoured through the surveillance footage, they would see the same thing almost the entire time.  I say almost because cameras are faster than the human eye.  Most security cams record at 24 or 30fps, which is more than fast enough to fake motion.  Megan has learned how to keep up illusions in the background at up to 120fps and 60hz with minimal effort.  I could go that high or higher with a little active effort, but I defaulted to good old NTSC standards.  Why?  Because I’m getting old and that’s what I grew up, that’s why.  Anyway, we sat in the coffee shop going over her recent school performance.  Much to her parents relief she changed her major from Art to Economics though she still loved to create.  They supported her in whatever she’d do, but would never say that they thought an art degree was a waste of money to her face.  She picked Economics as a way to explain where and how she would make money going forward.  She’d aced all of her work by cheating though she did learn all of the concepts.  Megan was smart enough to know that getting perfect scores in every class would raise red flags, so she made sure to miss some scores here and there, usually stupid errors that could look like honest mistakes.  As we went over her upcoming course load for the summer session, we talked about her making her own money.  My first million and then billion came from stealing secrets and using the markets to my advantage.  Megan wanted her first large chunk of cash to come from something meaningful, something helpful.  We bandied about a few ideas until she settled on investing in a solid-state battery manufacturer.  I won’t bore you with the details, but they could stand to make the world a much better place. 

Her only problem was how to get that initial burst of cash.  We bandied about a few ideas, and she shot down almost all of mine.  It’s crazy how used to fraud I’ve gotten over the years.  Well, she called it fraud.  I called it using my talents.  Which, I usually use to steal information or convince people to help me.  So fraud it is.  Or theft, depending on what I did to get the secrets.  There were no anti-teep laws back then.

Megan and I went back and forth for a while trying to figure out where to get her first large lump of cash.  I suggested robbing one of those prosperity gospel preacher or convince some crypto bro to sell his share and give her the money.  She didn’t want to start her fortune off my normal way, until she caught something that another woman in the coffee shop thought.

To give a proper understand of what happened, imagine what life is like as a teep going out and about.  When we’re in public, we spend most of our time trying to not read or hear people’s thoughts.  Mundanes don’t think about how loud their thoughts are.  They’ll broadcast their most embarrassing secrets with the same volume they think about their grocery list or chores.  That is until trauma sets in.  Someone with PTSD or CPTSD will think about their trauma so loud, it shakes them to their core and it’s the only thing they can think about.  Imagine being in a crowded, loud restaurant listening to everyone talk about whatever mundane shit they’re going through, then one person jumps up and loudly screams “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”  That’s what it’s like being a teep near a trauma victim that gets triggered.

Megan reacted first and found the target while I kept up our cover.  She still relied on her vision more than her developing teep senses out of a lifetime of habit, but found the source of the outburst and tuned in using her talents.

A beautiful young woman named Maria read a post about a human trafficker named Quay that was recently arrested and released on bail.  Her reaction was visceral.  The memories flowed from her all at once, at first sights and smells, then feelings and finally pieced-together events.  She remembered meeting the subject of the article, Quay, for the first time shortly after coming to Los Angeles as a whore.  He raped her the first time they met, then bought her from her current pimp and put her to work.  She must’ve fucked a dozen men a day for months before the raid, and if she didn’t Quay would beat her senseless and rape her over and over until she did what he said.  She was arrested for prostitution after the cops raided the motel she was working in and her current John was going to town beating her for not understanding what he said.  Later, she was finally able to get someone who spoke Eastern Yiddish to get her side of the story.  Maria relayed her story to this guardian angel of hers, and was able to help free some more of Quay’s girls but they never caught him.  That was 2 years ago and she’s looked over her shoulder everywhere she went, waiting for one of Quay’s thugs to find her and shoot her.

After wading through Maria’s memories, Megan and I were on the same page.  We also figured out where her money was coming from. 

Quay had to suffer.

We copied Maria’s memories as best we could, and I used my connections in the entertainment and legal worlds to get in touch with anti-trafficking groups.  One of my contacts had a dossier on Quay the size of an old phone book.  A phone book for you youngin’s out there was a published book sent out…. You know, forget it.  The dossier was the width of one of those Android devices that doesn’t know if it’s a tablet or a phone.  Anyway, it wasn’t hard to track down Quay.  He was a black man in his early 40’s who was in and out of prison as a kid until he landed in his niche as a pimp and flesh peddler to the worst of Los Angeles.  He was part of a sex slave chain that spanned the world.  He’d pick up the young and naive from the City of Angels and after breaking them in, would sell them overseas or across the border to Mexico.  He’d then buy foreign girls and whore them out until they were used up, then either sell them on to brothels down south or in Asia or to “specialty collectors” who were some pretty fucked up monsters.  We also found out that he was recently arrested again for trafficking but against the wishes of the prosecution was offered bail and is out and about.  Turns out Quay has a ton of shit on various judges and their families in the city.  Surprise, surprise, a corrupt judge.  Why am I so disappointed each time this happens?

Megan and I tracked Quay down to his safehouse.  He hid out in a 2 bed condo under his aunt’s name.  He owned the whole building of 8 condos but used one on the second floor as his domicile while the rest of the building was used by his security, visitors, and whores.  Gotta say, I was slightly impressed.  Not many whorehouses have a swimming pool and a tennis court.  Quay’s “doorman” was a gangbanger friend of his carrying a couple guns on him and the size of a shed.  We wiped his memory of our arrival with barely an afterthought and made our way to Quay’s condo.  We weren’t sure which one at first, but a brief scan showed he was in unit 201.  Kind of smart if you ask me.  Ground floor units could be raided through the windows, top floor stairs suck and roof entrance was a security flaw, and the second floor was low enough that jumping out of the window was an option.  He had 6 of his goons patrolling the building but not one of them noticed us for more than a second.  They were more worried about the explosive diarrhea that just struck them.  We stood outside of Quay’s door and did a quick scan.  We detected 5 minds, but for the briefest of seconds thought we had a sixth.  A second ping and the coast was clear, just 5 minds, two men and a woman.  One man watched some videos on his phone while the woman sucked the dick of the other man.  The TV played in the background.

As we walked in, I projected a sense that we belonged there, even if they didn’t know who we were.  Two thugs stood along the living room’s wall.  One man sat in a recliner and played on the phone.  He looked like Biggie Smalls and was startled for a second but soon shrugged his shoulders.  The woman on her knees wanted to get up and run, but knew a beating would come if Quay didn’t.  She was younger, probably college aged, and looked latin.  A brief scan confirmed she was kidnapped in Mexico and sold to Quay last month.  Biggie was Quay’s friend and business parter who communicated for him. 

Quay, well, Quay was one big mother fucker and sized us up in a second, wondering what the fuck we were doing here.  In a building full of black guys with guns, two of the whitest white people ever walked in like we owned the place.  I’m rocking a tailored suit while Megan looks like an artsy college student in a sundress.  Neither of us is carrying a gun or any other traditional weapons.  But the fact that Biggie didn’t do his normal business and that we walked right past half a dozen of his guards carrying AR-15’s.  His suspicions picked up when he gave his normal signal of “take out the trash” to the two people on the wall and instead they stood still.  He dismissed the chick from between his legs and stood up.

Even sitting down this dude looked like an NFL lineman.  Standing up, he could block out the sun.  He stood in front of Megan, wearing only a bathrobe and sporting a hard-on.

“Fuck you want, little white bitch?  How ‘bout you get a piece of this big black meat.”  Quay stood in front of Megan, smiling.  It didn’t take a mind reader to know what he wanted to do to her.  And considering we were, it was hard to keep a straight face as he wondered what she’d look like impaled on that whale hanging between his legs.

“Sit.”  Megan said.  Quay laughed for a moment before she repeated herself.  “SIT”  Quay stopped laughing when he flopped on his ass on his chair.  He tried to stand again, but his legs refused to work.

“Man, fuck this and fuck you.  Smoke these mutha fuckas.”  Quay looked at his guards, who just sat there dumb founded.  They wanted to help, but couldn’t.  Megan gave them just enough self awareness to realize what was going on but not enough to do what they wanted.  Biggie barely looked up from his phone, busily typing instructions to a contact of theirs.  “Get’em.  What the fuck?!”  Quay continued.

“Oh, you mean like this?”  Meg snapped her fingers and the two guards walked next to her and pointed their guns at Biggie.  “Or like this?”  Another snap, and the rifles were drawn on Quay.  “How about this?”  On her last snap, the men put the ends of the AR-15’s in their mouths.  Panic consumed them as they knew what they were doing but powerless to stop it.  “Do I have your attention now?”  Megan said, keeping her voice barely on the calm side of homicidal rage.

Quay tried to regain the upper hand by directing his anger at me.  “What, you letting your little ho boss you around too?”  His trash talk ended after a sentence, when I simply shushed him like a child.

“Who I am is of no concern to you.  My friend here is in charge and the person you need to worry the most about.  If I have to get involved, everyone in this building dies.”  I sent him a brief image of his condo on flames, and all of his friends dying a most painful death, along with the sense that we were not bluffing.

“You have a choice, Quay.  Either tell us everything you know about your business and your partners, or die trying to resist us.  We will take this information one way or another, but it’ll be your choice whether you live to see tomorrow.  If you do survive, you will contact your new attorney who will advise you to turn state’s evidence and work on a plea deal.  If you try to screw with us, everyone you care about will die, like your baby boy that you keep hidden from all of your business partners because you know that they will use that as leverage against you.  Nice move sending them to Minnesota to keep them safe, but pretty sure that Vova can get to Hines and Nikki before you can get them to your safe house in Alberta.”  Interrogations are very easy when you’re a teep, especially when your target broadcasts all their thoughts and plans.  “So, what’ll it be Quay?  Do you work with us, or do I fry your brain like an egg as I rip every secret from your mind?”  As she said that last line, she siphoned the basics of his business from his surface thoughts.

Quay thought for a moment, weighing out the options and how much shit he was getting into.  But each time he had an idea about how to double cross us, she stopped him, showing him how bad his choice was while taking more and more of his secrets from him.  He was about a minute away from becoming a retard before he finally agreed to help us.

While Megan took her time pulling Quay’s brain apart piece by piece dissecting his entire operation, I kept an eye on things in the background.  The guards still had their guns in their mouths and Biggie was busy setting up Quay’s next score, but every so often I’d sense another mind in the condo.  At first I shook it off, but the more I ignored it the more I felt it.  If I didn’t know any better…

The first sign that something was going down outside was when I sensed the doorman’s panic as three SUV’s rolled up.  He knew who this was.  It was Vladimir “Vova" Chipolsky, Quay’s boss’s boss and one seriously fucked up dude.  He was in charge of a lot of the sex trafficking in the region and a senior member of the Bratva, the Russian mob.  In less than a second, I used the doorman’s eyes to see into the first SUV to then read all of their minds.  They didn’t like that Quay was recently arrested and felt that he was too much of a liability and were coming to take him down.  There were 12 men including Vova, who wanted to kill Quay himself, and they’d be on their way up in less than a minute. 

I broadcast to Megan the situation, and heard something different this time.  It was a small, scared voice.  It was a voice of someone close yet hiding.  It was…

It was a telepath.  I could barely spare a second to send her a message.  It was definitely a her.  That brief instant between covering her position and coming up for air told me she was a she.  One of Quay’s recently acquired whores who just found her power in the last few weeks and was hiding out in his bedroom closet.  She only came out of the closet for food and water.  She didn’t think a lick of English, so that complicated matters a little.

‘Megan, we’re not alone.  There’s a new teep hiding in the bedroom closet.  She’s hiding from Quay.  There’s a hit squad coming up to kill him.  We need to get our new friend and get out.’  Megan was stunned at what I thought to her and she released her holds on his guards.  She then sent a message to every man in the building to fight to the death to protect Quay and kill as many of the Russians as possible, and for the women in the building to hide until we gave them the all clear message.  She then walked with me into the bedroom.

Seconds later we were in Quay’s bedroom and sitting outside of the closet of our new friend.  I was trying to get her to come out, but she refused to hear me.  Megan was far more successful than I was, and eventually our new friend came out of the closet.  At least, as far as she could.

Her name was Ana, and Quay did a number on her.  At some point during the countless rapes, he beat the shit out of her so bad that he ruptured one of her eyes and knocked out several of her teeth.  The last thing she saw before she went blind was Quay’s fist repeatedly hitting her face.  She’d been in a state of constant pain for the last few days with several broken bones but was afraid to move out.  Even if she could leave on her own, where would she go?  She didn’t speak English and would likely get rounded up as an alien right away.

Megan grabbed Ana’s hand and gave her some of her calmness and strength, along with letting her use her eyes.  Her TK was getting better as she helped Ana levitate out of the bedroom.  Ana gave us the lay of the land and who was who and where all the weapons and cash reserves were hidden in the building.

Getting us out was now going to be my job.  Against my better judgement, I didn’t kill everyone in the building.  First off, most of the women in the building were innocent, so killing them wouldn’t be fair or right.  Second, there’s something to be said about a good old fashioned telepathic ass kicking.  They’re so underrated nowadays but so much fun.  Even more exhilarating with a sense of actual danger.

Ana had spent the last week reading everyone’s minds, not knowing that was what she was doing, so when we asked her to tell us what she knew, she showed us repeated scenes of Quay’s men and their personal demons.  I waited to use that to my advantage.  First, we had Vova’s men to deal with, and would use Quay’s men to whittle down the numbers. 

The doorman withheld his panic, by my will, to let the Russian’s in, and I kept the Russians from firing until after all of them were inside.  The doorman identified Vova and I forced him to sit in the corner as his men walked into an ambush.  Quay’s men systematically killed each and every Russian they saw except for Vova.  It’s almost like Quay’s men were expecting a fight.  Once everyone was accounted for, I let Ana go to town and exact some revenge.  She went after Quay first, showing him nightmares of his baby momma Nikki being turned into a sex slave by Vova and watching his baby killed in his mind.  While he was screaming for help, she went through his guards one at a time.  She showed them their darkest, deepest fears, and one by one each series of screams was followed by a single gunshot and a thump to the floor.  I wouldn’t let her kill Quay, Biggie, or Vova as I had plans for them, but she got her satisfaction none the less. 

This is when I realized that Ana wasn’t just a telepath, she was a goddamned Dreamwalker.  She was Freddy fucking Krueger killing these men in their dreams.  I saw how she momentarily made them go to sleep, then projected the images into their minds and controlled their nightmares.  It was a work of art. 

Eventually we made it to the main hallway.  In the lobby, Vova seethed with rage as he couldn’t move or go anywhere.  Quay cried and begged and screamed like a little girl, and Biggie just stood there on his phone.  The doorman lay dead from a single gunshot wound to the head, and half a dozen Russians bled to death from various wounds.  Biggie finished the deal he was making, then I sucked all of his memories and knowledge from him before killing him with some TK.  I spun his head around, completely severing his spine.  For the briefest of instances, he could see his own ass behind him before his head spun back to the front, then whipped back at an unnatural angle.  Once at the door, I called my lead henchman Fernando to come with a clean-up crew, dressed as various law enforcement officers.  Before we left, we made Vova join us in one of his cars and drive to a location of my choosing.  Megan implanted a command into Quay’s mind that he would be relieved from these horrors once his new attorney cited a passphrase to him, and they would go away if he worked with the state.


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Once the situation at the condo was secure, it was time to deal with Vova.  All three of us dove into his mind and saw the pain and torment he put so many people through, especially women.  He was in charge of most of the trafficking to and from Europe.  We debated on how to properly punish him, but it was the newest member of our team, Ana, who came to our final conclusion without even realizing it.


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The last thing Vova remembered after seeing everything go to shit at Quay’s house was being ushered into one of his SUV’s by two women and a man.  They didn’t say anything, but seemed to communicate somehow.  Suddenly it felt like everything he’s ever thought or knew sped through his mind at light speed before passing out.

When he opened his eyes, he knew something wasn’t right.  His body felt…weird.  Like he was wearing shoes that just didn’t fit.  He tried to move, but he couldn’t.  He looked down at his feet, and screamed at what he saw.

Those weren’t his feet.  Nor his legs, and definitely not his tits.  Wait, tits?  WTF?!  He screamed in horror, looking down at a naked body that wasn’t his but reacted to his commands.  His legs were latched to the ground and kept apart with a spreader bar.  His body… what, this wasn’t right.  He wasn’t a he anymore.  He was a she!  Vova swore but discovered something in their mouth.  It was a ball gag.  Vova’s arms hung from handcuffs attached to a hook in the ceiling.  Vova tried to break free but there was nothing he…she could do.

Bright lights shone on Vova in this new form, and they could see cameras on tripods and a couple monitors strewn about the room.  One of them showed a blonde woman struggling to free herself from her restraints.  It took Vova a moment or two to realize that he was the woman on the screen.

“Ah, very good, our little plaything is awake.”  Vova’s eyes shot to across the room.  He knew that voice all too well.  Dimitri.  One of Vova’s oldest and sickest comrades.  They’ve spent more than few weekends together making young women scream and pray for death under their depraved fingers, until they eventually granted those wishes.  Vova tried to scream and beg, but the gag was in the way.

“You ready for some fun, little girl?  I’m ready for some fun.”  Dimitri approached with a cat of nine tails whip and a sick, sadistic smile.  The first crack of the whip convinced Vova that this wasn’t a dream, and the smell of the piss running down her leg and blood coming through the whip marks let him know this nightmare was just getting started.



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I’m not gonna lie, the three of us made a pretty good team in that fight, but I knew that keeping Ana in that broken body wouldn’t be fair to her.  It took considerable effort on Megan’s part to dull Ana’s pain enough to keep her coherent until we could get my doctor to look at her.  She was in constant pain and Megan did her best to redirect the pain to anywhere, but she took too much on her own shoulders.  I helped her spread it around to random passers by, so anyone that suddenly felt like they stepped on Legos walking down Hollywood Blvd the day of the Hillpark Massacre, my bad.

The prognosis was not good.  Every limb was broken, her back was shattered, most of her ribs were cracked, her orbital socket ruptured, several teeth were missing, and one eye was gone.  And since it had been a while on the various beatings and broken bones, they’d have to be rebroken to be reset.  It would be several months of healing and several more months of traction just to get her body to 60 percent.  The doctor figured we could restore her vision with some top secret tech or a complete eye rebuild, but even that was a long shot at surviving.  I’ll be honest, the thought of a mercy killing did occur to me, but only for a brief second.  Here was an actual, honest to god Dreamwalker, and she needed every chance she could get.  Telepaths are rare, but Dreamwalkers are special telepaths and even more rare.  They can enter another’s dreams with ease and observe and control the world around them.  Most teeps can learn the skills to enter dreams, but the connection becomes tenuous at best and we can get lost inside.  It took me years to learn how to do it, and Megan still hadn’t mastered that skill.  Meanwhile Ana, who had awoken less than two weeks ago, ran through her torturer’s dreams like a kid through a field.  It’s lucid dreaming cranked up to 11.  If she wanted to kill someone, all she’d have to do is wait for them to fall asleep and whack them in their dreams.

Since Ana was too new of a telepath, she couldn’t survive in another body without losing her powers, even if she was transferred into a latent.  Staying in her body during this would be a nightmare of it’s own.  She couldn’t permanently leave her own body yet until she gained an understanding on how her powers worked.  So the three of us came up with a crazy idea.  Ana’s body would be kept sedated for most of the day while the surgeries were underway and she would ride shotgun in our heads during the times her body was being rebuilt.  Then, when she was strong enough to manifest in another person’s body, we would find one or two or a dozen for her to use most of the day while her original one healed up.  When it came time to rehab, she’d go back to her body.

This worked well for the most part, but there were some complications.  It took less than a week for Ana and Megan to get into a fight over food.  Megan doesn’t like spicy food, but Ana kept guiding her to local taquerias and bodegas for some authentic Mexican food.  Ana’s filling up on tacos in Megan’s body, while Megan gets to deal with the heartburn.  I found the whole situation absurdly funny.  Anyone who couldn’t sense Ana’s presence would just see this redhead scarfing down tacos like she hadn’t eaten in a week with this look of pure frustration plastered on her face.

Ana enjoyed being in Megan’s head more than mine.  She called me cold and bitter on several occasions.  I let her into a handful of my memories, but after seeing some of my exploits and how easily I disregarded mundane lives, she refused to venture any further unless there was a lesson to learn.  Can’t say I blame her.  I wouldn’t want to be stuck in my head, either.

A few months passed but the prognosis on her recovery was getting worse.  The damage to the limbs was so great that she’d be confined to bed or a wheelchair for the rest of her life, and that’s assuming there weren’t any amputations.  By this time, though, it was no longer a major concern for her.  She had grown strong enough to break a piece of herself off and keep it in her body to run while she bounced around other bodies.  We found her a collection of latents to use as vessels when she needed or wanted to explore the world.  At first she was very gentle with those bodies, but after the first time her host tried to ‘exorcise the demon in her mind’, Ana stopped playing nice.  If at any time she felt that she was in danger, she would repress the host so far deep down that no one could find them.  When she really wanted to take over a body, she’d invade that person’s dreams, smother the original personality deep in the subconscious, then take over the host to have free reign.  Most of the times she’d let the person go after she was through with her fun, but sometimes would keep them around like a harem or a closet full of clothes.  ‘Hmm, should I wear the Cambodian seamstress today or the Nigerian Prince?  How about the Indian doctor?  It is a tad chilly, perhaps the Chicago landscaper is a good choice.’

Wait, how did I find dozens of people willing to let another person use them like a puppet?  Simple, it’s L.A.  One of the businesses I own is a multimedia conglomerate.  There are literally hundreds of thousands if not millions of people in SoCal who want to become stars and will do anything to achieve that goal.  With 1 phone call I can order up a dozen whores that look like all of the phases of Halle Berry’s career and have them in my house in under an hour.  Putting up an ad for an intern or assistant is nothing in comparison.  Finding a willing intern with the right genetic markers whittled the pool down some, but then it’s just a matter of getting them to be an assistant, pay them enough to make whatever happens worth their time, and convince them that carrying around another consciousness is perfectly normal.  Any times that Ana takes over completely gets attributed to too many drugs, and there’s usually some crazy blackmail to go along with it.  Those that are truly loyal stick around and are well taken care of.  Those that aren’t, well, it’s L.A.

But why latents?  A latent already has the groundwork laid to become a telepath, they’re just missing that spark.  Whatever didn’t happen to them didn’t happen.  A telepathic mind only has to do a little bit of work to get the latent’s mind to work without an outside connection.  It’s like staying in a furnished apartment versus an empty house.  Sure, you can make the house yours, but if you’re only going to be there for a few months, it’s better to go somewhere that already has the internet hooked up and a place to sleep.

Ana’s body is still in my home, watched over by some amazing doctors.  She visits it from time to time, but mostly just to check in and make sure it’s still there or to remind herself of how far she’s come.  Every time I see her she has a new face, a new body, a new everything.  Once in a while we’ll cross paths in the open world and catch up.  But she’s always welcome at home.

Quay turned state’s evidence and testified against his partners in the business after spending some time in a prison psychiatric hospital.  He was the only male survivor of the Hillpark Massacre.  Half a dozen women were rescued from a life of sexual slavery after police responded to the scene.  All of them identified Quay as the ringleader, and his recent bail agreement was rescinded.  He testified against the Russians and helped the Feds take down a rather well-organized sex trafficking ring.  He got what was coming to him, though.  Members of the Bratva got to him in SuperMax, but not before a couple oligarchs had Russian Heart Attacks.  One was found handcuffed in the trunk of his Lexus with two 9mm holes in the back of his head, and another fell out of a 7th story window onto a decorative iron gate with sharp spikes on them.  The death certificates for both men said ‘Heart attack’.

As for Vova, his ending was Ana’s idea.  She wanted him to suffer the way his victims did, and for the rest of his life.  Megan and I were cool with that and let her take the lead.  After seeing his nightmares, Ana crafted a hellscape for him that led him to being turned into a woman, raped, tortured, and eventually killed by one of Vova’s closest friends.  He would live this over and over and over until his heart gave out, which was about an hour after he passed out in the back of the SUV.  It was found in one of those man-made water routes that T2 was filmed in.  Meanwhile, we tracked down Dimitri and Freaky Friday’ed his ass into one of his soon-to-be victims whose mind was broken beyond repair.  His body spent the rest of his days in a coma while his mind…. Well, if you’re a sick enough fuck, you can find the video of a woman being fucked to death by construction tools screaming “I'm Dimitri” over and over.

Megan and Ana took Vova’s assets and split them amongst themselves.  It took a while to properly launder 8 figures, but they made it work.  They went from dirt poor to millionaires in a hurry, but had to be smart about it.  Megan invested her fortune through various shell companies that focused on making the world a better place.  Ana traveled the world when she could and became the best spy for our cause that ever existed.  Think about it.  How do you stop a spy who doesn’t have a body?  How do you keep secrets when all this spy has to do is be close enough to sense that someone is sleeping and watch your dreams?  As long as Ana didn’t make Megan eat anything too spicy, they would get along great.

But like I said earlier, this was not a perfectly run operation.  This was the first time the three of us operated as a team, and it showed.  We made some mistakes which led to a very problematic run-in between Megan and the CCP.  But that’s a story for another day.

[LtBroccoli]

The Headlamp of an Oncoming Train: The Mindwalker Memoirs, Part 6



Author’s Note:  This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience.  It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, abuse, and extreme violence.  The author does not condone any of this, unless the violence is used in a hilarious fashion.  Viewer discretion is advised.


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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior.  At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge.  Greater Man.

What am I?  I’m a telepath.  Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects.  I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet.  I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be.  Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep.  Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change.  Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix. 

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about.  How I experimented with triggering that change.  Could I play god and change the odds?

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August 2024 was a pivotal moment for all telepaths.  Looking back, that was when the world woke up to our presence.  And it all started because someone hurt my Megan.  From my notes back then…

“I had the dream two nights ago, and that was my first sign that something was wrong.  I wasn’t the only one.  Ana had the dream in both bodies she was using, and every teep and latent on the West Coast had the same dream.  A redheaded woman hiking through forest, beset upon by a pack of drones and mercenaries.  She was afraid, but brave, trying to get away from danger but there were too many of them and the last thing she experienced was a dart of some kind hitting her in the ass before she fell over.  As she passed out, she focused on the men standing over her, dressed in forest camouflage.  I had the same dream again last night, but this time with bits and pieces added of being transferred to some secure facility.  Screams of pain and moans of agony filled the air, mixed with Mandarin and another Chinese dialect I couldn’t place.

Megan’s hurt, and I have to find her.”

Every telepath on the West Coast of the United States had that dream, and every latent had a flavor of that dream.  Social media was abuzz with the weirdness of everything, and out of 8 billion people on the planet, only one knew what the message was, and who it was meant for.  Me.

Megan was kidnapped.  She was telling me how it happened, who did it, and where she was.

I worked with my new disembodied associate Ana to find who took Megan while I tracked down her whereabouts.  Her new favorite hobby was escaping into nature on hikes and mountain climbs.  It’s the only way that she can silence the voices in her head.  Every Teep has that phase and still reverts to it from time to time.  Silence and solitude is hard to get when you hear everyone’s deepest thoughts.  About a week ago, she went camping and had her phone with her.  That was easy to track down as whoever took her left it behind.  My henchmen found her campsite and phone, but no sign of her nor where she went.  They discovered signs of a chase and struggle, but nothing specific.  Whoever took her was professional.

Social media was abuzz with the shared nightmare.  It didn’t take long for someone to identify the soldiers from the dream as a mercenary group with ties to several foreign governments and the other dialects as Pekingese and Wu.  As I went through my contacts in the mercenary world, Chinese social media flared up with talk of the third night of dreams.  This time, it was bits and pieces of an interrogation while in the background women were abused over and over again.  The screams of women being raped echoed in the background as the redhead spoke very slowly, like she was drugged.  The dream would make it’s way over to my neck of the woods at night, but it told me something very important.  Megan was being held in China.  The interrogator was surrounded by soldiers in the People’s Liberation Army, and the social media epicenter was near Beijing.  By the time I even had a plan, my jet was fueled up and I was on my way to the airport.

Ana, for her part, found out some info by playing hopscotch through people’s minds.  Since her original body was smashed and broken by her old pimp, she embraced her new life as a free-floating spirit, able to travel through minds by a simple glance.  The first day of her search was rather fruitless, but she eventually came across one of the soldiers that was on the mission.  He was too busy thinking about how big of a truck he would buy with his bonus to notice that he sent an invitation to his coworkers to meet him for lunch.  Once they were all together, Ana used her skills to pull the name of their benefactor, Xi Quan.  Xi was a legal spy, the official attache to the Chinese Ambassador to the U.S.  It didn’t take Ana long to get Xi’s contact info and make her way to the Consulate’s office in downtown L.A.  There, she hitched a ride with some IT personnel until she was in Xi’s office.  He was just about to leave for the day when Ana entered his mind and learned as much as she could.  Ana went through his Xi’s mind to see how deep the rabbit hole goes.  And to steal a phrase, that hole goes all the way down to China.  Ana pulled all of the secrets she could from Xi’s mind before she made him hand over several important documents to another member of the diplomatic corp, who then gave those documents to a disposable patsy who walked off with them, under Ana’s control, to one of my henchmen.  Ana hopped a ride with the henchman, leaving the patsy to answer a lot of uncomfortable questions they had no answer to.

She met me on my private jet, a Bombardier Global 7500.  She traveled with some henchmen, the leader of my henchmen Fernando, and Kira, an assistant with latent telepathic abilities that Ana used as a host to travel with me.  As the plane took off, the last thing my assistant Kira remembered was taking some travel sickness medication and falling asleep.  In reality, Ana took over Kira’s mind and body.

“What do they know, what do we know?”  I asked Ana after sensing her presence in Kira’s body take over.

“Everything.”  Ana said.  The sweetness of Kira’s voice countered with the seriousness of Ana’s tone was off-putting.

“Explain.”

“The TL:DR is that the Chinese have known about Teeps for at least 30 years, and it’s one of their highest guarded secrets.  Maybe a dozen or two dozen people in the CCP know about our existence, but the secret is coming out soon.  They’ve had two Teeps working with them since the 80’s.  One of the students that disappeared during Tiananmen blossomed when they escaped execution.  They called him Patient Zero, and instead of getting a bullet in his chest, he walked out the door.  The PLA was able to track him down and their intelligence services got together with their scientists to try to find out how he worked.  After a long time, he agreed to work with them.  Patient Zero’s name is never given, but around the same time a Dr. Wu Xianbao shows up in their files.  He takes over Project Blossom, the PLA’s answer to the CIA’s MKUltra.  They figured out how to identify Teeps and Latents, but could never cause any of them to blossom.  That’s what they call one of us gaining powers.  I kinda like the term.  The PLA’s goal is to create an army of Teep soldiers and spies.  In the last 30 years they’ve identified 4 more Teeps, but only two survive to today.  They experimented too hard on one of them, and the other was too dangerous for them to handle.  Dissections didn’t show any discernible difference between a normal and Teep brain or body.  They’ve identified the DNA markers just like you did, but can’t kickstart the process.  They kept going in circles until about a year ago when they made a breakthrough and determined that an increase in adrenaline, endorphins, and a few other hormones triggered a blossoming when one of their patients had a panic attack.  Signs were promising for a few weeks, but constantly hearing other’s thoughts drove her into a psychotic episode, and now even with Dr. Wu’s help she can only manifest surface thoughts and empathic judgment.  They call her Deanna, after the character from Star Trek.  She can tell when someone is lying but that’s about it.  Their guess is that she wasn’t nurtured enough to gain her powers.  They were spinning their wheels until about a month ago when they found out about Meg.”

“What about her?”  I asked Ana.

“Boss, they know everything about you.  They’ve identified you as the most dangerous telepath on the planet.  They know that around 100 to 200 of us exist worldwide, but only you’ve been able to not only get a Teep to blossom, but keep her powers and grow them.  You trained Meg and me and a few others, and they’re scared shitless of you.  They call you Bodhidharma, after the supposed founder of Shaolin Kung Fu.  You’re the first one that studied the forms of the mind and trained others.  I’m Gui for Ghost, and Meg is Hua, or Flower.  They’ve tracked you for a while, ever since you showed up in Hollywood in the late 90’s.  They knew about your bio dad being a Teep and Teek from all the shit he pulled with every actress he could get his hands on.  But you scare them more because you don’t think only with your dick like he did.  They know how much sway you hold over so much of the Western world and can track your fortune to it’s ties in China.  They know about the sisters from the 90’s but lost tabs on them when they went to ground following your father’s death, and they know you killed him by turning him into a vegetable and trapping him in his mind after he tried to kill you.  They know about your island fortress and all the wealth, they know your favorite toys in Hollywood and around, and some of your spies around the world.  They’ve tried to kill you before, but failed.  They’re too afraid to try again because they think you have 15 different contingencies for toppling the Chinese Government.”

“12, at most.  15’s just pushing it.”

“Well, they could never make a move against you directly, they can’t find the sisters, and I’m so new on the radar they don’t even photos of me, just vague descriptions of people losing pieces of the day.  So they went after Megan.  They followed her on one of her hikes and sent a mercenary group to capture her.”

“How’d they get so close?”

“They didn’t.  They used drones from high enough up in the sky that Meg couldn’t hear them, and by the time they were close enough for her to see them or hear their thoughts, they had her trapped.  She put up one hell of a fight, but because she’s so…”

“Sweet and kind.”  I said.

“Yeah.  Because she’s so sweet and kind, she didn’t kill them but just tried to distract them so she could escape.  By the time she found out about the drones, it was too late.  She could either fight them off and knew reinforcements would arrive, or play possum and hope for a way out.  Meg went for the latter and sent a mindblast like no one’s ever seen.  She turned off her defenses and sent a telepathic message to everyone within 10 miles replaying her memories of what she went through.  She set off a mind nuke.  Everyone in that blast radius gained her powers long enough to send the send the message on until it spread far enough that only Latents and Teeps could continue sending it.” 

“That’s why everyone in the Southwest had the same dream for three days in a row.”  I said.

“Everyone in the world.”  Ana said.

“The world?  Fuck.  No way to hide this now.  Where they keeping her?  The dreams keep coming, so that tells me she’s still alive.”

“Kunming Lake.  It’s in the suburbs of Beijing.  The PLA has an abandoned bio warfare lab that Dr. Wu took over for Project Blossom.  It’s under the lake.  It was designed to be flooded in case a disease ever got out of control.  It’s small by Chinese standards, about 200 scientists and soldiers work there, plus however many patients they have on hand.  Figure there’s at least 2 or 3 Teeps there, plus they’re near the capital in case they need backup from the regular army.  You got a plan yet?  How are you getting in?”

“Me?  They’ll be expecting me, but won’t know it until I’m there.  I’m going to have a conversation with Dr. Wu while you help Meg escape.”

By the time we landed in China, we had enough information and enough of a plan to proceed.  Our plane landed without incident and I made my way with Fernando and Kira to the Kunming Lake where we looked like just regular tourists from the west wanting to check out the Summer Palace.  Kira tried to enjoy the sights and sounds, but didn’t know how long the trip would take so was still feeling the effects of her motion sickness medicine and apologized for falling asleep so quickly.  I accepted it, knowing that she doesn’t know nor understand her role in all of this. 

We found a nice, quiet spot out of the way from the beaten path of tourists and near an area that had some signs that said “Keep Out” and “Maintenance Area” on them.  I did a low-level ping and felt Meg’s presence nearby.  She was alive, though muddy.  Meg was being drugged, probably just enough to keep her out of her wits but not enough to make her useless to her captors.

Ana departed Kira’s body and jumped into that of a soldier walking past who was heading for the door behind the Maintenance Area sign.  One big difference between Americans and Chinese people is how well they listen to signs and warnings.  A Chinese person sees a KEEP OUT sign and they stay away, thinking that there’s a good reason why they shouldn’t go there.  An American sees a KEEP OUT sign and goes out of their way to find out what’s so important that they need to hide it with an obnoxious sign.

Once Ana was in the guard’s body, she grabbed all of their security protocols for the base.  They’re good, but not perfect.  Biometrics and keycards, along with some passcodes and sensors.  The main holding area held the prisoners and experiments while the higher ups stayed in the dorm area in their offices.  This guard traveled around the building, going from place to place.  Today’s rotation had him in the experiment area.  He was looking forward to work today, and hoped that Min was still in.  ‘She’s feisty.’  Ana rode shotgun in his mind as the guard entered the facility and checked in to work.  She sent me updates via a line of sight path she set up from the inside.  The guard would walk past someone, she’d hop in to that person and give them an overwhelming compulsion to stay where they are and use them like a WiFi point, then hop back into the guard and keep going.  She made sure that there was a constant stream of people going outside for a smoke and I would keep a line of sight with them.  Using this, we were in constant communication.  I saw everything the guard saw, and what I saw was altogether impressive, scary, and more than a bit arousing.

The reason that the guard was looking forward to work was after capturing Megan and drugging her, she described how she gained her powers.  I found her less than a year earlier and orchestrated a ritualistic sacrifice where her and her girlfriend were gangraped by cultists then her girlfriend was set up to be murdered.  This caused Megan so much stress and anguish that she went full-on rage monster and killed everyone in the vicinity with a mind blast, except for me and her girlfriend Maya.  We survived because I deflected the blast.  She was neither trained nor strong enough then to hurt me.  Anyway, after hearing this, Dr. Wu decided to try to recreate the experience by having Latent women rounded up from various locations, brought to the facility, and subjected to round-the-clock horrors until they either blossomed or broke.  They started with the gang rapes a day back, and the guard was excited because he was getting paid to rape good looking women over and over at the direction of Dr. Wu.  They didn’t have much luck with any of the women blossoming, but only a half a dozen trials doesn’t make a good experiement.  Ana sat back in the guard’s mind as he stripped off his uniform and entered Min’s bed.  She was a pretty girl, about 19 or so, detained initially because of ‘thought crimes’.  Basically, being a little too stubborn for her own good in China.  The guard didn’t know why or how she came here, only that he was told to fuck her senseless.  As the guard went to town fucking Min, Ana floated around the room going from bed to bed until she felt a low murmur coming from a darkened room.  She entered a scientist’s mind who monitored said room and found Megan.  She was strapped down to a bed held at a 45 degree angle, buck ass naked, with IV’s sticking in her arms and medical probes attached to and inserted in her body.  She had several bruises over her pale skin, and she slipped in and out of unconsciousness in the moments that Ana watched her.

“En route, stand by.  On my signal, unleash Hell.”  I sent the message to Ana and she had a pretty good clue what she was going to do.  As I did so, I told Fernando to take Kira and acquire transportation for at least 15 people.  I stood up, made sure my tailored suit looked proper, slipped a little packet into my pocket, and walked to the side door.  I projected a vision of one of the guards and walked right past the scientists on their smoke break.  I bypassed the security guards by giving them a look and they buzzed me in without a second thought, and made my way through the facility the main office area.  My biggest hurdle was the security cameras on the way, but a little telekinesis and they went offline for a few seconds as I walked past them. 

As I stood outside of the main office, I did a soft ping just in case a Teep was nearby.  I felt a few bumps, but nothing powerful.  I expanded the search, and felt 4 blips in the experimentation area.  One was faint and fuzzy, that I didn’t know.  Another was struggling and fighting, but in pain.  The third flitted through the room like a butterfly.  That was Ana.  The fourth was rumbling in turmoil but drowned out, like in a state of constant rage but too drunk to do anything about it.  That was Megan, and she’s gonna be pissed when she wakes up.  I grabbed the packet out my pocket and held it in my hand, looking over the instructions.  ‘Heat on high for 3 minutes in an 1100 watt microwave oven or until the popping slows to once every 1-2 seconds.  Open and enjoy.  Caution: Contents will be hot.’

I opened the door to the main office.  It looked like a control center for a factory more than a modern office.  The room was an L-shape where the main area by the door opened to a master control console with several monitors lined up overhead which showed in graphic detail the acts of depravity occurring in the experimentation area.  Two men sat at the console, taking notes on the events they watched.  To the right was a series of desks and more monitors, these ones showing live news feeds from all over China and the world.  Two more men worked diligently on their computers, not even looking up at me.  To the left was a hallway that led to a small dormitory area with more desks, conference rooms, a small barracks, bathrooms, and a small kitchen.  4 soldiers were in the area, each of them armed with a QSZ-92 9mm pistol and a QBZ-95 assault rifle.  One stood guard by the main console, one more in the conference room watching a meeting, one was in the head taking a shit, and the last one was eating at a table near the kitchen.

I headed to the kitchen and popped my popcorn as I searched for Dr. Wu.  He was in a conference room getting yelled at by a senior party member.  I tapped in to the guard watching him.  Dr. Wu was hard to read, but the guard was an open book.  The four guards have orders to keep Dr. Wu in the facility at all times until and unless ordered to let him leave by the Premier himself.  The Premier is the one pulling the strings on this operation, and is pissed that Dr. Wu is not making any progress.  The Premier is one of the few people that know the extent of the ‘Telepath Problem’ as they call it.  He leads the State Council, and him and 3 of the Vice Premiers know about us.  The other is in the dark and thinks this whole thing is bullshit.  The State Council has given Dr. Wu a short time to produce results or will shut down the whole thing and erase everyone from the project.  The guard knows though that if the Premier can’t control ‘those things’, he’ll wipe them out instead.  Starting with Megan and Me.

I made a split second decision.  The Premier has to die.  Today.

Dr. Wu and his guard left the conference room, followed by the guard.  They didn’t see me as they walked past to the main part of the room, but I felt Dr. Wu take a second glance my way.  He still only saw what I wanted him to see, a guard making lunch.  I grabbed my popcorn and made my way to the main console area.  Two guards stood around while I grabbed a chair and sat down, eating popcorn.  Dr. Wu turned and glared at me.  He was older than me by at least 15 years, putting him in his 60’s.  He was a little chunky around the face, but nothing too much.  He hasn’t skipped a meal in years, but wasn’t fat like an American.  He wore a blue button-down shirt and slacks with nice shoes that were well worn, and had a pair of reading glasses on a chain around his neck.

“What are you doing?”  He said to me as I still projected an image of one of his soldiers being a disrespectful bitch.

“Eating popcorn.”  My mandarin is not great, but good enough for this purpose.  “Brought it from home.  Want some?”

“What is your name, soldier?  You know the rules as well as anyone, no food in the control room.  This is how we get ants.”  Dr. Wu was getting upset, and I couldn’t help but laugh.  I did a quick surface level scan of everyone in the room.  The men at the desks were wondering why I was being such a jerk, and the guards didn’t recognize me and were waiting for the order to wipe me out.  Dr. Wu, well, I learned a lot about him in a few seconds.  I tried to do a quick scan on him, and he instinctively threw a shield up.  It wasn’t a strong one and I could overpower him without breaking a sweat, but he didn’t need to know that now.

“We need to talk, in private.  Who do you trust around here?”  Here’s the funny thing about surface thoughts.  They pop up before conscious thoughts and lies.  His immediate reaction was that he didn’t trust anyone in this project and knew that everyone in the building aside from a few of his scientists were spies for the Premier and the guards would kill everyone on orders.  The more he thought about it, he named the 5 scientists and IT people in this office and 1 scientist from the experimentation area.  But the rest, he didn’t trust as far as he could throw them.

“I trust everyone here.  Everyone here in this building is a loyal member of the Chinese Communist Party.”  Dr. Wu said, his eyes flitting around the office.

“Spoken like a true patriot.”  I snapped my fingers.  The people that he named stood up from their stations and walked to the dormitory area as though they were in a fugue.  The rest in the office made their way to the conference room.  The guards stood by for a moment as the men Dr. Wu didn’t trust waited around.  On the monitor, the scientist he trusted snapped to attention in the experimentation area, entered a code on a door panel, and left.  Across the room, another person changed a setting on Megan’s medication, shutting off the slow drip of drugs that were keeping her sedated.

“What is-“  I shushed the doctor before he could say anything else.  I waited for his friend to enter the dorm area and gathered his belongings.  Once everyone was in place, I gave the guards a nod, along with a suggestion that there can’t be any witnesses from the conference room.  The four guards in this area entered the conference room last and closed the doors behind them.  Several bursts of machine gun fire and cries of pain and fear emanated from the room.  A few more blasts erupted, until the last sound was a single bullet and a body slumped to the ground.

“Popcorn?”  I offered the terrified Dr. Wu some of my snack as he just witnessed most of coworkers gunned down by the soldiers on the monitor watching the conference room, followed by the soldiers turning their guns on each other and the survivor killing himself.  I munched that yummy popped corn covered in fake movie buttery goodness as he saw two dozen bodies, a pile of friends and coworkers strewn about the room he was just in a few minutes ago.  “You sure, it’s delicious.  I wasn’t sure if you’d have this here, so I brought it from home.”

“YOU MONSTER!  WHO ARE YOU?!”  Dr. Wu was pissed, and I dropped the cloak.  Instead of a Chinese soldier, he saw an American in his 40’s in a tailored suit.  He couldn’t keep the shield up any further, and I took a quick run through his mind.

“Me?  You know who I am.”  I tried to say that in Mandarin, but my Mandarin has too thick of an accent.  He looked at me with fire in his eyes and vengeance on his mind.  “Do you speak English?  No, not yet.  One sec.”  I nodded quickly, and forced the English language into his mind.  He let out a guttural scream from the pain and shock, like a really bad brain freeze.

“Who are you?!  Wait, what?  How?”  His anger gave way to fear, then curiosity.

“You’re speaking English now.  I just sent you the English language and how it translates to Mandarin.  If you live, you’ll need it.  But that depends on what happens in the next few minutes.  Do you understand me?”  I said.  It’s kind of hard to intimidate a man while eating popcorn, but the nonchalance of murdering two dozen men with my mind while having a snack sends home the message of how little their lives mean to me.

“Who are you?  Wait…Bodhidharma?”

“That’s such a hard name to pronounce.  How about you call me…Al.”  I had Paul Simon stuck in my head, I shouldn’t be the only one to suffer.

“How did you find this place?”

I looked at him incredulously.  “I’m a telepath.  Figure it out.”  I stuffed another handful of popcorn in my mouth as I let him stir that around for a moment.  “But I’ve got a feeling you’re familiar with that Dr. Wu.  Or should I call you Patient Zero?  Yes, that explains so much.”  I could see and feel his reaction to having his secret outed.  He was about to ask how I found out, but stopped himself.  At that moment, he actually tried to scan me.  He was so used to playing it dumb over the years his attempt was clunky, but I it felt good knowing my hunch was right.  I showed him a brief glimpse of what he was fucking with, and how much I found out in the last few minutes.  I also used his attempt to scan me to scan him in return.  I was much better at this than he was.  He blossomed when he was supposed to be executed for protesting the CCP, but convinced everyone he was dead and just walked out the door, completely confused.  He went on the run and studied science and medicine as best he could to figure out what happened to him, and it took a long time to understand what he was, what he could do, and even longer to find out he wasn’t alone.  He reinvented himself as a man of science following fringe theories.  He knows about me and a few others, but we raised several red flags after our little adventure with Quay and the Russians.  They attributed everything to me and none of it to Megan, and tracked her from a distance.  They underestimated her because she never killed anyone.  She always took the hard path to save lives.

We had a quick exchange of ideas, the way that I do with Megan.  Conversations that take minutes or hours condensed to a series of mental bullet points.  I showed him that in a few minutes, Megan would wake up and wreak havoc on this place, likely killing everyone in her path.  If I didn’t help her, she would likely lose her mind and kill everyone within a 20 kilometer radius when she burned out.  Finding out that a white chick from L.A. just wiped Beijing off the map will start WW3.  If I did help her, then only a handful of people needed to die, and it would look like an internal power struggle.  He could either live his last moments in fear and pain, or help us escape and execute the washout protocol by flooding the base as we hightailed it out of there.  Dr. Wu was worried about what would happen to him and his friends that survived so far.  They could stay in China under disgrace until the new Premier decided he was no longer useful and knew too much, where he would suffer a case of acute lead poisoning to the brainpan, or he could flee to the United States and work for one of my companies to continue his research and become the Grandfather of the Telepath Race.  He accepted my offer, and just in time, too.  Megan was awake.

We watched the events unfold on the monitors as Megan slowly woke up.  A scientist ran around the room hitting buttons and opening doors to cells before stopping in front of Megan’s cell.  The scientist stopped dead in his tracks as Megan took inventory of her situation.  Megan snapped the cuffs and restraints off of her with a glance and pulled the IV’s out of her arms.  She yanked the probes off of of her and pulled out the ones inserted into her.  The scientist by her cell tried to run, but she grabbed him with her mind and flung him at full power into the 30 foot ceiling, then back down to the floor.  His bones made an unholy crunch as he bounced off of the ground, but he was dead when he hit the ceiling at such an angle that his bent backwards like a Pez dispenser.

I reached out to Ana, who flew from room to room, telling all of the victims to get up and get the hell out of there.  She clouded the minds of the guards just long enough for Megan to get out of her cell and enter the common area.  Ana hopped into the mind of one of the young women and made her grab her friend and run for their lives out of there before the red-haired devil came for them.

Back on the monitor, Megan looked around and was pissed.  She saw the scene of multiple gang rapes occurring in front of her and decided in that moment that the best thing she could do was kill all these mother fuckers right here and now.  There were about 30 soldiers in the room, 8 scientists, and 6 women left that hadn’t run away yet.  She started with the first soldier she saw, the closest one.  He raised his rifle to take aim at her, but turned it on himself and shot himself in the face.  The next one to die was another soldier who was busy pulling his pants back on.  She used the TK to grab his belt and pulled on it so hard the man was cut in half.  The next one to die was a scientist who tried to run for the door, but she grabbed him with TK and pulled him back so hard his skull splattered on the floor.  Another lunged for an alarm but overshot it and was thrown into the nearest wall so hard that he cracked the steel reinforced concrete.  She killed three soldiers at once by twisting their heads around so that the last thing they saw was the wall behind them.  One soldier was able to get a few shots off at her, but she stopped them in mid-air like Neo.  Unlike Neo, she sent them back at her shooter at their original velocity.  One of the soldiers ran up to her with a tonfa, and she grabbed him with her TK and used him to beat four of his comrades to death with.  Megan beat a mother fucker to death by using him to beat other mother fuckers to death.  A few others died by suicide when she placed horrific images in their minds.  Others, she hit with a directed mindblast that liquified their brains.  One of the scientists who decided to have a little sexual fun at her expense was mentally drawn and quartered, his limbs lost in the four corners of the room as he screamed in agony, praying for death until he bled out.  Then she started killing people with furniture.  She smashed two men with the beds their rape victims were strapped to, and hung one man by an extension cord tied around his genitals until the weight and her extra strength ripped them off.  He lived for a while when he fell to the floor, but when she dropped a safe on his head Looney Tunes style, he was done for. 

I watched the show in amazement, eating popcorn the whole time.  “This isn’t even her final form.  She’s just scratching the surface of her true potential.”

The last of the men did set off the alarm calling for more guards, but in that moment Dr. Wu made his decision and killed the alarm.  He was on Team Al and Meg going forward.

After Meg killed all of the men in the room, she used her powers to free the women, but the beds were being difficult, so she used her TK and dragged the beds behind her.

The scene as she left the experimentation area was a sight to behold.  Here was this beautiful, naked redhead walking down the hallway, air crackling around her like lightning, two beds dragging behind her squealing on the floor as they traveled.  As she walked, more guards came out to stop her, but they didn’t last long.  Ana hopped into the guard at the end and opened fire on his comrades before disarming himself to look on in shock and horror at what he did.  Ana wasn’t strong enough yet to compel a stranger to commit suicide, so she left his body and floated around until she hopped into my head.  Together, we finished the popcorn bag and went to the hallway where we saw Megan try a new trick on the last guard.  She tore him apart, limb from limb then piece by piece then finally cell by cell until only a pink mist was left.  She hesitated from killing the next person she ran into when she felt and saw that it was me.  I projected a calmness to her, letting her know we’re there for her.  Her rage was at an all-time high, but I ran to her and held her as she collapsed in my arms.  Dr. Wu came out of the office with some keys to unlock the cuffs holding the last two women to the beds and some lab coats and flip flops for the women.  He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and a bag of luggage ready to go.

“We have 5 minutes before this place floods.”  Dr. Wu said.  He was telling the truth.  He activated the facility’s total loss protocol.  The experimentation area would flood first, followed by the offices and everything else until the entire building was flooded.  The office was maybe a two minute leisurely walk from the main door, but it took us a little under a minute to traverse that distance.  I used a little known trick known as running my ass off while I carried Megan to the door.  Dr. Wu looked like an old tourist afraid he was going to miss his flight, and Ana was bounced between the two women to get them to run to the door.

When we made it outside, we arrived to a scene of chaos.  The scientists that Dr. Wu trusted waited outside with some of the women who ran from the experimentation area before Megan went full-on Carrie.  Fernando and Kira had commandeered an airport shuttle bus and were trying to get a dozen people inside, but neither of them spoke any Chinese.  They boarded once they saw us exit, but almost ran away when they saw me carrying Meg, the ‘red haired devil’.  I sent a mental suggestion to everyone to get on the bus now, and they followed.  The stairwell behind us filled with water as the doors closed, sealing in anyone unfortunate enough to have survived.

As we sat on the bus driving away back to the airport, Megan was a mess.  What she did in there was absolutely incredible, but it took a major toll on her.  A Teep using their powers taxes them.  During emergencies, adrenaline kicks in and increases everything the body can do, but when that wears off, all of the pain and weakness is left.  Megan just did the Teep equivalent of picking up a car to save a baby, and now she was weak and shocked at what she did.  This woman would barely hurt anyone, even if they deserved it.  Killing was out of the question for her before this.  By my counts she just murdered at least 40 people in some of the most brutal, painful, and hilarious ways imaginable.  She shook in my arms as I tried to console her, letting her know that she would be okay and we were safe now.

I’m not always a heartless bastard.

We arrived at the airport and dropped everyone off on my plane except for me, Dr. Wu, Megan, and Kira with Ana.  Megan insisted on staying with me and there was no way I was going to say no.  I ordered Fernando to protect our new group while the rest of us handled something very important.  We grabbed Megan a change of clothes from Kira’s bag and headed off.  They’re both petite women, but Megan definitely has more going on up top.  Besides, sweats and a workout shirt don’t exactly need to sized completely.  We grabbed a pair of white knock-off Crocs at a local market on our way to tie up one loose end. 

The Premier of the Chinese Communist Party.

Dr. Wu told us of the Underwater Protocol.  Once the base flooded, he was to meet with members of the State Council in a closed session off the books.  Ostensibly he was to go through a debrief of what he learned and pass on his knowledge, but he knew he’d never leave that meeting alive.  Instead, we would intercept them at the meeting and handle things ourselves.

The State Council consists of 7 senior members of the CCP.  The Premier is the head of the group and basically the number two man in China.  Out of the 7 members, 5 knew about this project.  3 of them wanted the whole thing scrapped and two wanted to see the fruits of the labor.  The last two members of the Council didn’t believe that Telepaths existed at all but didn’t want the Americans to get them first. 

My meeting was with the youngest and weakest member of the Council, a man I’ll call Lee.  Lee was the last invited to the meeting and was purposefully left out of the loop.  He had a feeling something was up when a white man in a tailored suit walked into his opulent office, flanked by two petite American looking women, one dressed for a business meeting and the other looking like she just left the gym, and Dr. Wu.  He stood to confront us, but I suggested he sit.   

“This won’t take long, Councilman Lee.  You can call me Al, and in less than 3 minutes, you’ll be promoted to Premier of the Chinese Communist Party, if you want the job.  Otherwise, everyone on the council will be dead and the President will get to choose the entirety of the party leadership going forward.  Please, turn on the monitor to the live meeting they conveniently forgot to invite you to until the last minute.”

Mr. Lee protested as he turned on the screen on the wall.  It showed a live feed of 6 men sitting in a conference room of great renown.  He recognized everyone in the room instantly, even the ceremonial guard standing in the corner.

“What is the meaning of this?”  Mr. Lee asked.  I smiled.

“This?  Have you ever heard the phrase that the light at the end of the tunnel is the headlamp of an oncoming train?  Well, your Premier saw the light and I’m that train.  To make a long story short, a secret project that the Premier was spearheading met with an unfortunate accident about two hours ago.  All hands were lost and all progress and information lost with it.  The Premier decided that he wanted to hurt those close to me and use them to get to me.  I destroyed his pet project and everyone involved is officially dead.  But there’s a few loose ends to tie up.  All of them are in that room.  Everyone in there will be dead in two minutes.  And you have two choices.  Join them, or lead China to a new identity and spirit.”  I said as straight laced as I could, but I knew he didn’t believe me.  I projected a feeling of unquestionable truth and plucked a secret or two from his mind, letting him know that I know.  “You’re going to ask why you.  Listen, this is why I don’t like to get involved in politics.  This isn’t about Communism vs. Liberalism, or any of that stuff.  This is about men abusing their power to hurt me and my loved ones, and my reaction.  You saw the reactions on social media to the shared dreams recently.  What if I told you it was because of what the Premier did to this young woman?”  I motioned to Megan.  “He kidnapped my friend here, and we rescued her.  She has a gift for the world that needs to stay secret, at least for a while longer.  We are going to make sure that it stays a secred until we’re ready to tell the world about it.  And you’re going to help.  In exchange, you’ll be the second most powerful man in China.  Agree or disagree?”

I knew his answer before he did.  “What do you want from me?”

“Squash the telepath projects that your predecessor worked on, bury the evidence, and when I’m ready we’ll work with you on paving a path forward.  In the meantime, our existence is just a rumor, a myth.”

“Why should I trust you?  How are you planning on doing this?”  Mr. Lee asked.  He was digging for something useful.

“That is strictly on a need-to-know basis, and you do not need to know.  The meeting’s starting.”  I turned to the monitor.

The meeting began with the Premier calling the meeting to order.  Mr. Lee connected via a Zoom-like connection.  The Premier made some snide comment about how everyone else was able to attend in person before going into details about why the meeting was called on such short notice.  Project Blossom was a failure, and the flood protocol was activated.  It’ll be a while before they’ll be able to get divers into the base to determine what exactly happened, but it’s to be assumed that one of the telepaths ran amok and that anyone associated with this project was now an enemy of the state.  Mr. Lee looked like he wanted to say something about us, but a small nod from me and he kept quiet and he turned his camera off.  But as the Premier was about to give out orders on how to have us eliminated, he felt a weird scratchiness in his throat, followed by a choking sensation.  Unlike other Teeps, I don’t need a direct line of sight to use my powers.  I’ve developed ways of navigating the electric pathways of computers, technology, and the internet to substitute for line of sight.  I used this connection to strangle the premier, simulating the effects of a carbon monoxide poisoning.  Mr. Lee stayed quiet as a couple others on the call asked what was going on, but the Premier went blue and collapsed on the table.  Suddenly, two other men stood up, but as they tried to scream for help, nothing came out as their throats restricted as well.  The last three members of the council fell next, along with the guard standing by the door.  The last act of the guard before he lost consciousness was to ‘accidentally’ lock the door from the inside and activate the safehouse protocol.  Mr. Lee nearly panicked as he saw his fellows fall to the ground.  Two minutes later, there was no movement in the room.

I instructed Mr. Lee to wait another minute or two before acting like he rejoined the call.  He thought quickly, stood up and walked to the bathroom.  After flushing the toilet, he washed his hands slowly before returning to his desk.  He came off of mute and turned the camera back on, just to see everyone in the room dead.  After screaming at the computer screen, he paused the video and pulled out a cell phone to call the Premier and other members.  When they didn’t answer, he then called the Premier’s secretary and informed her that something was terribly wrong with the men in the meeting, and that he was on his way right now.  He feigned a sincere panic just well enough to convince the older woman on the phone that he was worried for his friends. 

“We have two minutes before I have to leave.  Any longer and it will be suspicious.  Will you tell me what happened?”

“For your safety, no.  Just know that you have a new ally today, and I have one as well.  You can use this for any of your political purposes except Taiwan.  There’s already enough heat between you two and I have some nice property there I want to keep in good condition.  The inquest will show that they died of symptoms similar to carbon monoxide poisoning.  Have someone from your intelligence department plant evidence that some anarchists or whoever modified the HVAC system for that room, and in their stupor the soldier on duty tried to unlock the door to help them, but instead double-locked it.  An honest mistake on his part.  But you will use this promote people loyal to you, I mean the Party, to key positions.  The power is now yours, Premier Lee.  Now, if you’ll excuse us, you have some pressing matters to take care of.  Until then, huítóu jiàn.”  Just for the record, the conversation was in Chinese, more or less.  Once I knew there were no outside recorders, I spoke English but he heard me in his native tongue.  Expect the last part, that was me speaking Chinese.  We stood and watched Mr. Lee leave the office.  I activated the mind cloak for both people and cameras, and we walked out of his office, looking like normal Chinese civil servants.

By the time we arrived at the airport, the death of most of the State Council was hitting the news.  Information was still scarce, but the last remaining member of the council was named the new Premier.  When asked what happened by authorities, Premier Lee said that an investigation was ongoing but at the time no one had accepted responsibility for this attack yet.  Due to the unusual nature of their deaths, it was being treated as an assassination until evidence pointed in one direction or another.  It took a long while to open the doors to the meeting room, but once opened the first people in noticed that the air smelled stale, like the HVAC system had failed.

We boarded the plane and took off before the authorities could react.  There were no obvious signs of foul play, aside from half a dozen bodies.  By the time they had anything to work with, my jet was already out of Chinese air space.  Space was cramped, but fortunately no one brought luggage so we weren’t worried about weights, just having to double up in some seats.  It’s designed for 14 passengers and can fly up to 16 hours.  We had close to double that number and were heading to L.A., about a 13 hour flight.  It was a bit crowded, but we made it without issue.  I took that time to look after Megan and get to know our newest friends.  2 of the women from the compound had telepathic powers of a sort, one was on the verge of blossoming, and the rest were Latents but not really strong enough on their own to break through.  We decided to let everyone rest and that we’d work with them after finding them a safe space in the States.  Remember, I’m bringing over like 20 Chinese people with no passports or ID, this’ll take a minute.  However, I did scan them and figure it was worth working with them to help them along.

Dr. Wu and I chatted for a while while Megan slept.  She was still not ready to forgive him for kidnapping her, and he was salty that she killed about 40 of his colleagues and friends.  His research was fascinating and much further along than he let others know.  He had identified 5 key genetic markers that were necessary for the Teep genes to activate, but he was missing the epigenetic layer until recently.  It wasn’t until Fang’s panic attack that he realized how important adrenaline was to the mixture.  The only reason he said he subjected this new batch of women to prolonged rapes was because of Megan’s story.  There were other hormones needed as well as outside factors that he was trying to crack, but his models also showed how likely the Teep genes were to spread down through generations.  With planned breeding programs, two Teeps could easily produce stronger children.  A teep and a normal person could produce a latent, but two latents had a stronger chance than only one latent.  A teep and a latent was almost certain to create at least a strong latent if not a weak telepath. 

The more we talked about this, the more I realized that it was going to be my job to help create the Telepathic Race.  And to do so, I’d have to fuck so many bitches.  Seeing that Kira was awake, I told her to schedule a meeting with my urologist after we landed to undo my vasectomy, eyefucking her the whole time.  As far as Megan goes, well, that’s another story for down the line.  For now, I had a species to propagate.

[LtBroccoli]

Through Fire and Flame: The Mindwalker Memoirs, Part 7



Author’s Note:  This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience.  It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, abuse, and abuse of authority.  The author does not condone any of this, except abusing authority to get a better parking space.  Viewer discretion is advised.


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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior.  At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge.  Greater Man.

What am I?  I’m a telepath.  Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects.  I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet.  I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be.  Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep.  Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change.  Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix. 

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about.  How I experimented with triggering that change.  Could I play god and change the odds?

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August 2024 saw the first pieces of our existence come out to the world.  After all of our fun in Beijing, people started talking.  Even in a country with such extreme censorship, people love to talk about the strange and unusual.  It started just as we were going wheels up and news of the death of the former Premier and most of the State Council made the airwaves.  It was the largest assassination in the Party’s history and within a day the new Premier, Mr. Lee, had released evidence that they found which linked a tampered HVAC system by a group of dissidents from Gansu Province that had infiltrated the maintenance crew.  That alone was fishy, but combined with what was found in the ruins of the underground lab and the aftermath of Meg’s little massacre, there were too many questions left open.

What we didn’t know until we landed was just like her dreams from the last few days, Meg transmitted everything that happened in the underground base.  Every latent in Beijing saw her mow down everyone in her way like it was a video game.  They saw all the different ways she killed her tormentors, how she dragged the two beds behind her, and eventually how she calmed down and collapsed in my arms.  The last things she projected were Dr. Wu and me.  And just like the previous dreams, they were transmitted around the world.  She told me that if she put enough power behind a thought, she could use latents and other teeps like a cell phone tower, sending the message around the world, though the latents wouldn’t be able to send it too far.  And on top of that, she could embed a feeling into descriptions of what happened.  I had no clue that was possible on that scale until after it she did it.  All 300 latents in Beijing sent this dream around the world before the refugees boarded our plane.  The reason we didn’t know about it was because Ana, Dr. Wu, and I were sending out shields to protect all of us from any blastback from Meg.  She used that shield to bounce the signal off of to the rest of the city.

So by the time we landed in Los Angeles, every telepath and latent in the world saw my face, and saw me helping Meg.  When I saw the vision myself, I looked rather charming and kind.  I was flattered.

What complicated matters further were the reports that came out of the ruins of the underground base.  The Chinese government found dozens of bodies floating in the main facility, and another dozen or so locked in a conference room.  It looked like only 2 died of drowning while all the rest were either shot or suffered severe trauma.  They pieced together what they could, and combined with some surveillance footage that was offloaded to a cloud server, they had a record of everything.  This info was buried deep, but people still talk and there are some classified state secrets showing what we did.  What wasn’t hidden as well was the footage of Fernando and Kira stealing an airport shuttle and driving to the lake where nearly 2 dozen people in various states of undress escaped from a maintenance shaft labeled ‘No Trespassing’ and ‘Violators Will Be Shot’.  They even tracked us all the way to the airport.  How nice of them.  They lost us going back to deal with the Premier and the State Council, but they did get us reboarding the plane after the assassinations made the press.

In the aftermath, a few reports came out of some people that had those dreams ‘hearing thoughts’ or ‘getting visions’ like they were psychic or something.  And for some reason, many of them had a compulsion to return home, but their actual homes didn’t feel safe anymore.  Some kept the powers a little longer than others, and a couple just couldn’t shake that they had to come to Los Angeles.  They were drawn to us like a beacon.  Over the next several weeks, about 3 dozen people showed up at my tower in downtown LA.  They were latents on the verge of blossoming.  We couldn’t turn them away, so we set up some residences for them as we figured out our next steps.  The first step was keeping this as quiet as possible.

The next few weeks were spent trying to come to terms with what happened and get the logistics of our next steps in place.  Our biggest problem was getting visas for 20 Chinese refugees with no ID’s and whom their government wrote off as dead.  The official channels can take months, but that much time wasn't something we had.  Creating ID’s isn’t as easy as it used to be before DNA testing and facial recognition, but with the help of a good friend in the State Department, we were able to get the ball rolling and within 3 weeks we had new ID’s, visas, and passports for everyone we rescued.  It cost me a lot of money and my friend insisted on spending the night with his favorite actress, but it was worth it, if just to see the look on Sandra Bullock’s face when she had to fuck some ‘nobody’.  She’s still hot for her age, and I had a little fun myself.  This was right before I went in to reverse my vasectomy, so she was my last swimmer-free fuck.

Getting officially dead people a new identity was easy compared to getting the families of the scientists out of China.  They were being watched like hawks, so it took a little subterfuge and a lot of money to get them out and safely to the States.  I settled the scientists in an area near one of my towers, where they were able to expand on their work.  I converted a couple floors of the building into condos where the new teeps could live when we’re not on my island.  Dr. Wu, Ana, and I worked with them on establishing and strengthening their powers.

Meg, well, my fiery redhead needed time alone.  She was still coming to terms with her first mass murder and getting ready for her senior year of college.  Though, studying for finals is a different kind of stress than crushing heads with a thought.  Her first flow of investments were coming to fruition so she would be a millionaire by the end of the year, but she felt empty, lonely, and afraid.  I gave her all the space she wanted.  She visited her home for a few days before leaving for school early.  Meg was disgusted by the number of times she caught her brother thinking of fucking her while he was jerking off to incest porn and tried to put a stop to it by walking in on him during one of his wank sessions.  In his convoluted mind, he thought he was really going to fuck her, and she almost attacked him out of reflex.  She then immediately left for her new off-campus apartment and tried to meet up with her girlfriend Maya, but then she found out that Maya was seeing someone else.  Her friends weren’t around, and being surrounded by horny college students who broadcasted each and every thought stressed her out to the point that she had a panic attack and had to get away.  Hence why she fled to my island villa until school started.  The first two days she spent in contemplative silence, just trying to enjoy the quiet.  I hung out with her on the third and fourth days, reminding her of her training of blocking out others and taking time to focus on herself.  During this time she had a healthy cry about not being normal anymore and feeling like she was cursed at times.  I let her get it out of her system, but did my best to convince her that she was gifted, not cursed.  Though, sometimes the two feel like the same thing.

We spent some time talking about making the world a better place.  I agreed with her, but we had different views on how to do that and who to do that for.  She wants to make the world a borderline utopia for everyone, while I’m the cynic and focus on making it where telepaths can grow and live.  We talked about some of my exploits and why I’m ‘such a jerk’ as she put it.  It’s funny.  I’m a telepath and I spend so much time in other people’s heads that I don’t take the time to examine mine.  I figure my negative view on humanity comes from seeing them at their worst so often, and it is much easier to manipulate someone’s base emotions than change their surface rationality.  For example, I remember this one time I was in Colorado back in the early 00’s, and I ran into these crunchy granola protestors.  They were Neo-hippies through and through.  One of their group was trying to shut down some mining operations in their area that their newly elected senator had signed off on.  I think her name was Wesslin, Wesley, something like that.  Whenever this lady was mentioned, I could feel the anger and lust rise in this guy, their leader.  I didn’t plant any specific plans in his mind, just gave him the intention and the desire to want to rape the shit out of that lady, and also track down the daughter of the representative that signed off on this desecration of the land and spoil her, too.  I left the suggestion in his mind, but was surprised to find out months later that he followed through on those thoughts.  Meg was appalled but not surprised that I would do that.  I also reminded her that I was much younger then, and nowadays would probably cause one of the machine operators to create a catastrophic accident that would bring down the entire mine, costing the company so much money they’d have no choice but to close down operations, then one of my subsidiaries would swoop in and buy it all up.

Meg talked about using her powers for good, but also realizing how much of her power she was just discovering.  She replayed the events from the base over and over again, wondering how she was able to cause so much raw destruction.  The bullet stopping scared her almost as much as ripping the one guard apart on a cellular level.  As she talked, I noticed that the room got very hot.  I told her to focus her energies on a nearby palm tree.  It was old and ready to be chopped down, but the more she thought about what happened, the more the tree glowed until it burst into flames.  We spent the rest of the day honing her teek powers, everything from lighting things on fire to moving large and small objects.

Her vacation on my island was just what the doctor ordered before going back to school.  Her grades were once again amazing, and she perfected several techniques of taking knowledge from other students and the professors.  Ana, our disembodied partner in crime, would often travel with Meg on a slow day and make her way through the classes, just hanging out in everyone’s mind for a little while.  She enjoyed the freedom of exploring minds and the thrill of taking over someone to act against their normal nature.  Like one time, she was in a lecture hall where she took over this one sexy black girl who was sitting next to a cute hispanic boy.  She read both of their thoughts and figured ‘why not be a little naughty?’  In the middle of class, she starts giving the boy a handjob under his desk.  After class, they’re banging in a utility closet, and Ana’s having fun in both bodies.

Things were pretty calm until one day late in September.  My assistant Kira made the moves on me.  Even if I couldn’t read her thoughts, I would’ve picked up how obvious she was being with me.  Though, in retrospect she was only this obvious because the subtle flirting didn’t work.  She’s a very pretty petite brunette with a couple tattoos on her body, the most prominent being a lily on her left shoulder right above her breasts.  Her black hair comes down just past her shoulders and has some light curls to it when she doesn’t straighten it, which makes her skin look even paler than normal.  She looks a lot younger than her license says at 30, and she loves to work out.  Her body was small and tight, just the way I like.  I kind of figured out she was down to fuck when she came into the office flustered, wearing one of the sluttiest work-appropriate outfits around.  She wore an overcoat that came to mid-thigh, 3 inch black pumps, a satin choker collar, and black lace lingerie.  I sat behind my desk, just enjoying the show as she strolled across the office, shed her coat, and mounted me in my leather chair.  I didn’t have to manipulate her, chase after her, do anything with her mind.  She wanted me right then and there.  After a little makeout session and foreplay, I slid her panties to the side, dropped my trousers, and let her fuck me right then and there.  I’ll admit, it’s been a while since I was fucked by a woman outside of my control, and it was a great change of pace.  After I came the first time, we cuddled and talked for a bit while I recovered for round two.  She knows about my plans for ‘spreading the species’.  Fuck, she wrote the plan.  She knows how much in child support I’ll pay out to future baby mamas and how that is life-changing money.  Kira doesn’t like traditional relationships but wants to be a mom.  This would be a win-win for everyone involved.  I couldn’t fault her logic, especially as my dick came back to life.

I fucked her three more times that day, each time having her keep her black lace lingerie on the whole time.  Man, there is something about the feel of pantyhose wrapped around my waist or feeling them on a sexy woman that just drives me wild.  The sight of her bent over my desk is one of my core memories.  I’ll be honest, I didn’t get any work done that weekend, unless we’re calling fucking Kira work.  And if that is the case, then I was putting in some overtime.

Kira and I didn’t exactly keep this little affair a secret, and we both knew where the other was coming from.  Fuck, I mean she literally set up the various plans on how much the future baby mommas would get paid to raise my kids and the future of the telepath race.  She knew she was a latent, and even occasionally could hear my thoughts.  She was definitely trying to get knocked up, and there wasn’t any love there.  At least not romantic love, anyway.  Maybe I think I’m too cynical for that.

Meg was less than thrilled when she found out about Kira and I.  I could sense the jealousy.  As pissed as she was about Kira being involved in our ventures, she understood her role and normally liked her.  I was honestly surprised, but kept an eye on that going forward.  Just as I was surprised about what she was up to at college.  She was setting up one hell of a prank or sting or whatever she called it, and wanted Ana and I involved for funsies.

It all started in her senior economics course where one of her professors was a lecherous asshole.  By all rights she should’ve had straight A’s but he kept grading her papers lower than anyone else.  It took her all of 3 seconds to talk to him and realize that his plan was to fuck her for a better grade.  She played along, acting all naive but read his mind and knew that he played this game about once a semester.  He’d pick a pretty student and coerce her into blowing him or fucking him for a better grade.  Where he fucked up was he picked a teep to try this trick on.  Meg made a split second decision to ruin this man’s life, and wanted me along to enjoy the show.  There was no way she was going to fuck him, but he didn’t need to know that.  But she read his mind and knew he was doing the same thing with two other girls in class named Claire and Doris.  She told him what he wanted to hear, begging if there was anything her and her friends could do for a better grade.  He couldn’t believe his luck but knew he’d never get as good of a chance as this.  He told her to grab her friends and meet him at his home Friday night at 9PM, and plan for a late night ‘study session’.  She read what he meant by that, it was an all-night fuck session.  She promised she’d do her best.  Meg then talked to both Doris and Claire.  Doris was down for whatever with next to no manipulation, but Claire refused to take part in anything, even if it meant destroying this abusive professor and failing this class she needed to pass.  She did a deep dive in both women’s minds.  Doris was a little older, returning to school after a few gap years and was kind of a slut.  Claire on the other hand was as prudish as possible.  She was a singer in her church band and still a virgin at 20 years old.  Claire was very adamant about not taking part in any of this, but a little help from our disembodied friend Ana, Claire found herself on Friday night putting on some sexy white lace lingerie underneath her sexiest satin white miniskirt dress with her nicest matching heels.

I showed up with Meg at the Professor’s house shortly before 9PM.  Meg was dressed in a white dress that came down to the mid thigh and had a plunging neckline.  I was dressed in a suit, like most times.  What was different was the camera bag I carried over my shoulder.  She suggested to the Professor that I was a long trusted friend, and we were invited in.  After arriving, he felt the urge to delete our arrival from his Ring doorbell.  The other two girls showed up shortly thereafter.  Doris drove them over and parked out front in a muscle car.  I could feel Doris’s excitement and Claire’s fear as soon as the car stopped.  I also picked up Ana inside of Claire’s head, and was the only reason Claire was here tonight.  They arrived and entered.

The two women were about as different as could be.  Claire was a skinny and tall woman with a model’s build.  Her straight blonde hair came down to her shoulders, and her brown eyes screamed fear with every look.  She couldn’t understand why she was here or why she had no control over her actions.  She looked super sweet and virginally sexy.  Doris on the other hand looked like she just rolled off of a porn set.  Her DDD tits were barely held in place by a green tiger striped minidress that looked like it was either from the club or a brothel.  Her ass was big and juicy, and her bright red lipstick made my cock ache.  She had recently dyed her air blonde, and as soon as she spoke her Latina heritage became obvious.  She was very pale for a Mexican and easily passed as white.

We all made our way to the rumpus room.  I mean seriously, he has a rumpus room with a ‘conversation pit’ in it.  It looked like it was straight out of the 70’s architecturally but the furnishings were up to date.  It was a black leather U-shaped couch with a coffee table in the middle.  There was a fireplace along the wall opposite the pit.  Meg and I sat on one side while Claire and Doris sat on another.  The Professor made us some drinks while I set up my camera.  I read his mind and saw him spike the girls drinks with ecstasy.  Meg caught the same thing and shared my gin and tonic when she was thirsty.  Claire refused to drink and shrank back when Prof put his hand on her thigh.  Ana stopping Claire’s voice was the only reason she didn’t scream in panic.  Doris enjoyed her drink and as soon as the Prof talked about getting this party started, she was already making her way over to him on her hands and knees.  It didn’t take her long to get him naked from the waist down, and he helped remove the rest of his clothes.  Doris was already sucking his dick when Claire tried to run again, only to have Ana stop her and make her walk over next to me.  The fear and excitement as Ana made the lovely young woman ask “May I suck your cock, sir” was almost too much.  She fumbled with my belt and zipper as Ana guided her to remove my cock from my pants and wrap her lips around it.  I scanned her mind for any experience.  She hadn’t even so much as kissed a boy, so the fact that my dick was in her mouth before a man’s tongue was simply enthralling.

Meg, meanwhile, was enjoying the show.  Doris had now mounted the Prof and was riding him on the couch, screaming something in Spanish as she came.  He busted shortly thereafter and needed to relax as he readied himself for round 2.  I blew my load down Claire’s throat and a little suggestion later she swallowed.  Meg went and grabbed herself another non-drugged drink and one for Claire as well.  I spent some time playing with Doris while I came back to life. 

As much as I would’ve loved to bust Claire’s cherry, I knew that it would look suspicious as hell if I had her first before the Prof.  But I did fuck her throat first, so at least there’s that.  I grabbed the camera and hit record as Prof stripped Claire down to her lacy one-piece lingerie and kissed her.  Ana let Claire talk and beg for this not to happen, but refused to let Claire fight back.  Claire was shaking as Prof stripped her down completely and cupped her tiny breasts, then creeped his fingers down to her blonde-covered pussy.  A little cajoling and Claire was on her back on the couch with Prof above her.  Ana let her fight some more as Prof fingered her just enough to get her wet for entry.  When it came time for Prof to fuck Claire, Ana was only along for the ride.  Claire screamed and yelled and begged for him not to do this to her, but he didn’t care.  Well, he did hesitate until I entered his mind and made him get turned on by her cries.  I stood by and recorded Claire’s deflowering, watching her cry as he fucked her on the couch.  I captured the entire half hour on video, culminating with him cumming in her and Claire crying.

Meanwhile, Meg had stripped down and was fooling around with Doris.  Doris was normally straight but was a little bi-curious.  It didn’t take Meg much effort to make her open to Meg’s advances.  I didn’t feel the need to record that, I figured there was enough incriminating evidence with Prof raping a student.  While Meg was eating out Doris, I moved over to Doris’s face for a blowjob.  She sucked me good for a few minutes before I decided that my next course of action would be to fuck Claire for myself.  Her second time went much better than her first, as I applied some TK to her clit as I fucked her.  Pretty soon, she was on the verge of her first orgasm.  I pushed her over the edge.  I withheld nutting inside her for two reasons.  One, I was just unfixed, so there was a chance of knocking her up, and two, I didn’t want my sperm showing up in the inevitable rape kit that she would get in the morning.  Prof couldn’t help but fuck Claire again as this time I made my way to Doris’s sweet ass.  I fucked her doggystyle while she ate out Meg and blew my load all over her back.  Prof made Claire lick it up, then while he was recovering again, ‘forced’ all three women to enjoy each other.  Doris went to town on Claire’s pussy while Meg kissed and caressed her. 

Eventually all of us were exhausted.  As I was about to wrap things up for the night, Meg caught me completely off guard and sat on my lap.  I was stunned.  In the year or so we’ve known each other, I’ve done some shady shit by her side and in front of her, but I’d never made a move on her sexually.  I knew she was a lesbian from the first time we met, and also she’s my student, my mentee, my protege.  It’s not that I didn’t think she was beautiful or sexy, it’s just that I never wanted to threaten that with some meaningless fling.  As I tried to figure out what she was on about, she slowly ground on my cock, her pussy going back and forth over my member.  At that moment, I was in her complete control.  She leaned over and whispered in my ear.

“When I’m ready for you, you’re mine.  You can fuck anyone you want, but you belong to me.  Got it?”  Then she leaned over and kissed me.  I kissed her back.  Before we went any further, she climbed off of me and made her way to Claire and sat on the skinny blonde’s face.

The night ended shortly after.  Ana rode back in Claire’s mind and would handle things from there.  As soon as Claire arrived home, she took her parent’s car and drove to the local hospital where she relayed the whole night to the doctors and later the police.  As she was telling them what happened, she received video of her rape from an unknown number and that information was then used to charge the Professor.

Even with tenure, the university put him on leave as the case was investigated.  Several other women came forward, including Doris who said that she was coerced into have sex with him for a better grade.  The scandal rocked the school, and another professor took over for his classes for the remainder of the school year.  The Prof was eventually charged and fled.  He didn’t see any jail time as a jealous boyfriend of one of the women he harassed met him one day and pushed him in front of an oncoming bus.  If anyone asks, my alibi is that I was two towns away, judging a ballroom dancing contest.  I certainly didn’t give that jealous boyfriend the motivation to push that lecherous shit in front of a bus.  No, not me…

Meg kept Claire and Doris around for the rest of the year.  She felt bad about hurting Claire, but justified it for how many girls this helped and would prevent this happening to in the future.  Her ‘study group’ would often devolve into studying each others bodies in her apartment.  Not gonna lie, I’d invite myself over for the occasional threesome with that sexy Latina and the church girl coming out of her shell.  Meg had a lot of fun slowly turning Claire into her own little slut.

As far as for what happened between Meg and I that night, we had a long, awkward conversation towards the end of October that year, just as the rumors of our existence swirled around the world.  It’s hard to lie to someone that’s a teep, but even harder when they know you so well.  We talked about everything that was going on and the long and short of it was that Meg was jealous of me and Kira.  Meg didn’t want kids yet, but was hurt as hell that I was having them with Kira instead of her.  Over the past year we’ve developed a very close relationship, and she knew how much I cared for her when I went after her in China.  I tried to play it off as a teacher/student thing, but she cut me off. 

“Save the bullshit.  You may not admit it, but you do have emotions, and I can feel what you have for me.  Would you have done even half of that for Ana or Kira or Fernando?  Thought so.  And it’s not just because I’m a blossomed telepath or particularly powerful, but because you love me in your own way.  Ever since our first encounter, you never laid a finger on me.  You had dozens of chances to fuck me, could’ve turned me into one of your puppets, but you didn’t.  The weekend with the gymnast and her sister, the night with the twins, the night with the Professor, and all the other times in between, not once did you make a move on me.  But I can sense your lust each time you see me, and I’ve noticed how it’s changed to something else, but you go out of your way to hide it.  I know a large part is you don’t want to ruin anything between us and you still have more to teach me, and another part is you know I’m not into men and don’t want to stress that out.  But you need to realize something.  I have those same feelings, I’m just not ready to act on them yet.  Like you said before, being a teep is lonely, but I love the time we spend together.  We’re less lonely together, and someday when I’m ready to settle down, I’d like it to be with you in some way.  I just don’t know what that looks like yet.”

It didn’t help that she used my tricks against me and answered what I was thinking while I was thinking it.  As we talked for a little while longer, something occurred to me.  I was on board with everything she said and if that day came when she’d have me, I’d be a happy man.  But until then, we were both free to do as we pleased.  Though, I did hitch a ride in Doris’s mind as she and Meg were fucking, and I know she did the same when I was banging Doris, and that curvy Latina wasn’t the only woman we did that with.

But those are stories for another time.

[LtBroccoli]

Standing on Ceremony: The Mindwalker Memoirs, Part 8



Author’s Note:  This is a fictional story that is intended for a mature, adult audience.  It contains graphic depictions of sex, violence, sexual assault and rape, coercion, sex on an airplane, and figuratively eating the rich.  The author does not condone any of this, except the sex on a plane and knocking the wealthy down a peg or two.  Viewer discretion is advised.


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I am a member of an endangered species. Homo Superior.  At least that’s what we will be called once our existence becomes common knowledge.  Greater Man.

What am I?  I’m a telepath.  Teep, mindreader, dreamwalker, mystic, whatever you want to call my kind, I can read and change minds, as well as move some objects.  I am one of maybe 80 fully capable teeps on the planet.  I’ve spent the last couple decades studying and researching where we came from and how we came to be.  Long story short, about 1 in a hundred million becomes a teep.  Though many have the genes, it takes a special combination of events to trigger the change.  Take one part latent telepath, one part shock, one part overactive hormones, two parts trauma, throw together and mix. 

That’s what this chapter of my memoirs is about.  How I experimented with triggering that change.  Could I play god and change the odds?

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The tail end of 2024 was when the first inklings of our existence made it to the powers that be.  By the time the holidays rolled around, close to 100 latents had made the trek to my tower in Los Angeles.  All of them had seen Meg’s dreams and visions, and knew my face.  Owning a 30-story skyscraper in downtown L.A. and converting a couple floors of it into condos was easier said than done.  On top of the Chinese refugees we housed, over 60 latents tracked us down and made the pilgrimage to the tower.  Most of them came from the U.S. and Canada, but we did get a few from other countries.  Almost all of them were close to blossoming, and their urge to come to us was driven by that desire to break free. It was just a matter of time before one of those latents would tell someone in a position of power what happened.

It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.  I was working with some of the staff in the building about setting up a holiday dinner for our new residents. Meg and Ana recommended we try to do something nice for everyone as they acclimated to their new surroundings.  As Meg, Ana, Kira, Fernando and I worked with a caterer, something felt off.  There was a general hole traveling through the building, almost like a dampening field or a stealth plane flew overhead, but this time it was walking through the tower.  Front desk security sent a message to Kira that we had inbound visitors, and the hole lined up with our unexpected guests.  The front desk sent up the ID’s and we had just enough time for the briefest of searches to see who was incoming.

Kira greeted them at the locked lobby door while Ana rode shotgun in Fernando’s head to escort her.  There were two gentlemen at the door.  The first was an old white man in an ill-fitting suit, the kind that government employees love to wear.  He was Admiral James Nelson, Commander of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  The other man was a diminutive light-skinned man that I will only refer to as The Jamaican.  He wore a light gray suit and eschewed a tie, which had been the fashion for a few years.  Fernando and Kira greeted them, but Ana immediately knew why there was a hole around the Admiral.

The Jamaican was a telepath.  He was putting out a blocking field, like jamming radar.  Ana could sense that he was doing a surface scan on Kira and Fernando, and immediately picked up on Kira’s latent abilities and Ana’s presence in Fernando’s mind.  She sent a message to a passerby who relayed her findings to me. 

Kira led the pair into my office and offered them something to drink.  The Admiral accepted a coffee with artificial sweetener, but the Jamaican refused everything, even bottled water.  I arrived after a couple of minutes, joined only by Megan.  I excused Kira and Fernando, letting them know that I would call for them if I needed anything.  Megan was dressed in a pair of jeans and a comfy beige sweater.  I was in my normal attire of a tailored suit.  It was Navy, which was fitting considering whom I was dealing with.

“Admiral Nelson, I haven’t seen you in ages.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”  I shook his hand and we sat across from each other, my desk serving as an island between us.  We went through the ceremony of mindless chit-chat as I asked about his family, his job in the Pentagon and White House, the various projects he has going on that someone in my position should know about.  I’ve worked with the Navy many times, and my Villa was technically a Naval base, so it was good to stay friendly with the neighbors.  As the Admiral and I talked, I sensed Meg take a reading of both the Admiral and the Jamaican.  She had a very hard time picking up anything more than surface thoughts from the Admiral.  The Jamaican on the other hand was cold and stoic.  Meg’s gentle attempts at surface scans went nowhere, and it was only when he scanned her back and she rode the wave in did she get anything of use.  What she saw was enough to confirm who he really was.

The Jamaican was one of the more powerful telepaths on the hemisphere.  His specialty was mind wipes and extracting information from interrogations.  When he was a kid his powers manifested and his family thought he was a witch.  When a voodoo doctor wanted to sacrifice him, he wiped everyone’s mind clean of his powers, but he went too far.  He erased everything the witch doctor ever knew and wiped out his existence from his own parent’s minds.  He wandered the streets for a while until he realized that he could scam tourists with little to know effort.  He would walk up to tourists coming off of a cruise, send a suggestion for them to give him cash or a credit card, then erase that the event ever happened from their mind.  One day he tried this on an officer in Naval Intelligence and his luck ran out.  The officer found it fascinating how the man would easily escape from any holding cells or jails and no one seemed to remember him.  Eventually the Jamaican struck a deal with the officer.  If he worked for then Lieutenant Nelson in Naval Intelligence, he’d make sure he would be taken care of and always have a job and his own money.  The Jamaican agreed, and soon the pair rose through the ranks, all the way to the top of the U.S. Navy.  Along they way the Jamaican did… things that would cause a normal man to puke.

Megan sent me what she picked up inside his mind, and I’m absolutely certain that he saw that she sent me that message.  Once again, he was cold and stoic, and once again we danced through the ceremonies of politeness until he sent a message to the Admiral.

“My associate here has informed me that he’s detected a communication between the two of you, and I think that it’s time we show our cards.”  Admiral Nelson said.

“You’re here about China.  You’re here about what happened in Beijing, and why so many people keep flocking here.  You want to know how it happened, and whether or not we can be trusted or controlled.  But most importantly, you want to know if we can help you.”  I said the quiet part out loud and his satisfaction was just enough of a blip on his cold demeanor to break into his mind past the Jamaican’s protections.  I only had a moment, but it was enough to leave a sliver of my consciousness behind to amplify my abilities.  I could feel his reactions to my speech, how he wanted to know what he could.

“I want to know how a handful of people with… special talents were able to overthrow the Chinese government and cause so much chaos.  I want to know how long you were planning this, and I want to know how long you've been gathering forces.”  The Admiral was stern, and not used to being ignored.  I could feel how he broadcasted his thoughts to the Jamaican and how he could ‘feel’ what his long time friend was thinking.

The Admiral didn’t know it, but he was a latent.  A very raw and low-powered one, but a latent telepath nonetheless.

“Well Admiral…” I said, as I leaned back in my chair and looked him in his face while focusing on The Jamaican.  “What would you like to know?”

“How about we start with the questions I just asked.”

“Admiral, let’s put our cards on the table.  You know that people with special abilities exist.  Your friend is a great example of them.  You’ve known about these people for a while, and you’ve made a great career by taking advantage of this knowledge.  Your background in Naval Intelligence gave you a unique opportunity to exploit that advantage.  But everything that happened in China has you terrified.  You want to know how far ahead the Chinese are, what were they up to when we paid them a visit.  You’ve pieced together a big chunk, but still have some questions.  You know who was involved, what happened, but not really the how.  And you still haven’t asked the most important question.  Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why, Admiral, did I overthrow the Chinese government on a fucking whim?  Why did I fly halfway around the world with nothing more than the clothes on my back, fly right back, and spend less time planning the logistics of a coup of the world’s second most powerful nation than most middle class families spend on their trip to Disney World?”  Before the Admiral could answer, I continued.  “Let’s address another important thing.  You flew across the country because you felt this was important enough to meet face to face, but sensitive enough that you didn’t wear your uniform.  You draw strength and comfort from your uniform and the awe it inspires.  But a 4-star Admiral walking through Downtown LA will draw a ton of attention, and you can’t risk that.  So why don’t you ask the question you really want the answer to.”

Admiral Nelson sat there for a moment, weighing everything I said.

“How many?  How many telepaths are there?”

I nodded.  “That’s a good place to start.  Between 3 and 5 percent of the world’s telepath population is in this room.  We’re very rare.”  I dropped the facade of not being one.  He knew and I knew he knew.  “If you want a hard figure, there’s maybe 100, 120 worldwide.  But that’s only blossomed telepaths that have discovered their powers.  Rough estimates are for every telepath, there’s a thousand or ten thousand latents.  They have the potential, but are missing something.  If in the right situation, they can use or gain powers.”  As I said that, I felt the sliver I left in the Admiral awaken.  He couldn’t help but run through his memories of every time he thought he heard another’s thoughts or discovered secrets no one said aloud, and this got past the Jamaican before he could block it.  “Latents like you, Admiral.”

The look of shock was brief, but undeniable.  I continued before he could protest.

“Of course, you’ve always had a feeling that something was different about you.  It started when you met your friend over there.”  I egged him on just enough for him to run down memory lane, and I could feel the Jamaican tense up, too.  “When he tried to rip you off and you stopped him, neither of you knew what to do.  But when you saw him walk out of prison and no one remembered him, you knew you had to find him again.  You made it your mission to find him and find out what his deal was.  After finding him, you discovered his secret.  He could read minds and change memories.  You worked together to rise through the ranks and until recently thought he was one of, if not the only telepath around.  Then, let me guess… You had a dream a few months ago.”  I let the statement hang in the air for a few moments, waiting for him to answer.

“I had a series of dreams.  And so did my friend.  They ended with your friend’s romp through Beijing and you helping her escape torture.  I came to find out that others had the same dream.  Since then, well, since then I’ve felt different.  I could hear my friend better than ever before.”  The Admiral said, not sure what came over him to be so truthful.  Of course, I knew it was the sliver of me I left in his mind.

“That explains a lot.  Like why CJCS came out here instead of someone from NSA, CIA, FBI, or some other alphabet soup, and why you brought your friend.  He can detect if we’re up to no good.  If either of us tried to reprogram you or harm you, he’d attack us without a second thought.  And he’s good at it, too.  But it’s taking all of his strength and concentration to keep his shields up around you.”  I threw that last part out there as a show of strength.  I hadn’t cracked a sweat but the Jamaican was literally sweating in his chair.  “Look, I’ll do you a favor Admiral.  I promise not to reprogram you while you’re here and only read surface thoughts you project, and The Jamaican can rest up and relax.  Deal?”

“Deal.”  The Admiral could feel the stress his friend was under in our building and wanted to give him a break.  “What do you mean-?”

“By surface scans?”  Megan answered, catching him off guard.  “The random thoughts everyone broadcasts without knowing.  Like a feeling of romance when you saw me walk in because I reminded you of your wife when she was younger, or the feeling of shock you have right now knowing I could pick that up even through his blocking attempts.”  Megan was calm and collected as she just told us how his friends efforts weren’t enough to protect him from her.  To be honest, even I couldn’t get through that.  She was either bluffing or just that powerful, and I know when she’s lying.  She wasn’t bluffing.

“You’re the woman from the dreams, aren’t you.”  The Admiral asked, and Meg simply nodded.  “How much of that carnage actually happened?”

Megan shifted her stance for a moment, obviously uncomfortable.  “All of it.  Care to share my pain?”  Before the other men could outwardly say anything, she sent both of them her memories of the whole ordeal.  The Admiral was shocked, and the Jamaican’s cold demeanor broke for a moment.

“That was…”

“Intense.”  The Jamaican spoke for the first time.  As soon as he spoke, he closed his mouth and stayed silent.

Everyone in the room gave the Jamaican a look.  We weren’t expecting it.  Then the Admiral turned back to me.

“How many of you are in positions of power?”

I almost wasn’t expecting the question, but I think I got where he was coming from.  “Here’s my view on that Admiral.  I used my talents to help myself and those around me.  I took advantage of a gift to make a fortune and a half, and the effort was very little.  If you’re a telepath and not wealthy, you’re doing it wrong.  My friend here made her first million last month and is on her way to 10 million by March.  I made my first billion in the tech industry in the 90’s and aughts by listening to the right people at the right time.  It’s not for everyone, but I think it’s a valuable first step.  But it’s also not sustainable if thousands or even millions of us arise.”

As I talked about gaining wealth, I could feel the room shift.  The Admiral’s main reason for coming here finally bubbled to the surface.

The Charlatan.  Once again, not his real name.  A billionaire who had a near cult-like following who was dancing in the halls of power.  He’d created his fortune in tech but branched out to many other ventures that would’ve collapsed without his cult.  He was a walking meme factory, but so many people ate his shit up.  He claimed to find religion and combined that with his tech but was just another grift.

“That’s part of why we’re here.  The Charlatan is too close to our interests and needs to be taken down a peg or two.  We’ve tried other ways of getting close to him, but he turns them against us.  We’ve lost great agents to his agenda.”

“What kind of solution are you looking for?  You want something humiliating or more permanent?”  I asked the Admiral.

“And what do we get out of this?”  Meg queried.  She was already formulating plans when the Admiral responded.

“Nothing that can be tied back to us, and we’d prefer compliance to elimination if possible.  And let’s just say you’ll have free reign to do what you’re doing here, as long as it doesn’t hurt this country.”

Meg and I both did a surface scan of the Admiral.  He was telling the truth.  The sliver of me verified it as well.

“Well Admiral, it sounds like we have ourselves a deal.”  I stood up and extended my hand to shake his.  He did the same.  I used this ceremony of politeness to retrieve my sliver without the Jamaican seeing it.



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It took some doing, but I was able to get face to face with the Charlatan at a meeting of the rich and powerful.  I normally avoid these meetings unless I need investments or feel like fucking with them.  My reputation proceeds me as rather aloof and reserved at these meetings.  Of course it doesn’t help that when I come around, weird things happen.  Most of the talk is just them trying to brag about who’s vanity project is doing better.  I try to avoid these kinds of chats.  Let me be honest, I don’t feel comfortable in these gatherings.  Too many psychopaths give me a bad vibe, and listening to one rich old white man brag about how his futbol team won a championship or how his newest wife was a lingerie model and biochem laureate or how their rocket went higher than the other guy gets boring.
I arrived with my small entourage of Megan, Kira, Fernando, and Ana.  Megan and Kira were dressed in smart dark business suits.  Kira could still fit the skinny suit, though she was a couple months pregnant.  Yeah, that happened.  Still didn’t stop the fucking, though. :)  Ana rode inside of Kira’s mind until we showed up.  We made the rounds with the various billionaires, celebrities, beautiful people and their hangers-on.  More than a few came up to me trying to angle themselves into a movie role or record deal or something.

Something I wasn’t surprised about was that we weren’t the only teeps in the building.  I already knew about the Charlatan, but two others popped up on the radar.  One was a young man hanging around with a group representing a major hedge fund whom I’ll call The Analyst, and the other was an older woman whom I’ll call The Widow.  She was a white woman who had a habit of marrying rich and her husbands dying of natural causes, but each of them were legit things like heart attacks or strokes.  She was busy flirting with some Brit that wouldn’t shut up about his Premier League team.  We left them alone for most of the night, giving them their space to work.

I found The Charlatan in one of the back rooms partaking in booze, drugs, and women.  He was distracted so I felt it was safe to do a surface scan before a deep dive.  His aura was different, like a funky shade of purple.  Meg hadn’t seen this one before and was caught off-guard a little.  This is when Ana noticed something.

He was an Empath, not a Telepath.  And psychically deaf to boot.

Ok, let me explain.  I’ve mentioned Telepaths and Latents many times, but haven’t talked Empaths yet.  An Empath can’t read or hear individual thoughts but can pick up and influence emotions.  They’re can detect a person lying, but can’t say what the lie is.  They can project how they feel and make others feel the same, but can’t implant specific thoughts.  He can’t tell a woman to find him sexy, but he can project horny vibes across the room.  As far as psychically deaf, he can’t hear shit.  He’s either so self-centered that he doesn’t care to hear others, or is so broken he can’t.  Considering everything we know about The Charlatan, my money’s on the former.

I joined The Charlatan in the Blue Room where he and a couple other rich guys were doing designer drugs while fooling around with Victoria Secret’s models.  I sat down on the opposite side of the same couch as him while he snorted something off of a model’s tits.  I drank a glass of champagne while a gorgeous black woman crawled up onto my lap and nibbled on my ear.  It didn’t take long for that to escalate to some grinding and fucking.  Not gonna lie, the horny vibes were getting to me too, and it’s been a few months since I fucked a VS model.

Ana used the horny vibes to sneak into The Charlatan’s mind while his guard was down.  What she found disgusted her.  He had legitimate plans for taking over the world and was already planning out several genocides against his enemies by channeling his cult to foment revolution.  To him, everyone else was just a pawn in his game.  He wasn’t happy with being rich and powerful, he wanted to be a god.  She planted a suggestion that he wanted to get to know me better and be friends with me, as well as walk off with several of his secrets that came to the surface.  She kept a sliver of herself in his mind and left, coming to me via the VS models.

The Charlatan chatted me up in the post-nut relaxation and I played it slightly aloof.  He talked about his upcoming plans, how he was visiting so many places and seeing so many faces, all the usual braggadocios bullshit that these types love to do.  I talked to him about the movie business, the tech world, sailing on my yacht for fun, visiting places like Beijing and being an instrument for change.  While he was talking, I felt his aura try to wash over me.  I have to admit, it was very hard to ignore his charms.  I decided it was time to make a plan.  Ana was still in my mind so she knew what I was thinking and planning.

I proposed meeting up with The Charlatan sometime soon.  Ana knew about his predilection for beautiful women and overpowering them, so I put this to my advantage.  I offered to take him on a trip to Australia with a few women of his desire.  He wanted to take his jet, but I convinced him that mine was better for this.  He was more popular than I was, and multiple bloggers tracked his every move.  I stayed under the radar.  He’d fly with me in my party plane, have a good time, then we’d live it up in Sydney.  He was sold after a little nudging from Ana’s sliver and we exchanged contact info for a date that next weekend.

Before we left the party, I sent a message to The Widow and The Analyst, asking them to meet me on the balcony.  It didn’t take long for them to arrive, and they were both shook when they saw me standing there with Megan, Kira, and Fernando.  The Widow was first to arrive, having just excused herself from the pompous posh twat she was stuck listening to.  I greeted her without saying a word, and asked to wait for the other to arrive.  The Analyst was next, looking very concerned.  He did an active ping when he approached.  The Widow cringed for a moment while simply nodded and sent him a ‘confirmed’ message.  I sent a quick message to both of them.

‘You are not alone.  We are in this together.  Your secret is safe with me.’  I then sent them my address in L.A. and told them to stop by next time they’re in town.  The Analyst was shocked and blasted us with hundreds of questions in seconds.  The Widow was overwhelmed and wanted to run, but Megan caught her and calmed her down.  Guilt spread from her as she couldn’t help but broadcast to us how she killed her last three husbands with a little TK and took their fortunes.  I smiled, letting her know that we’re not here to judge.  It was then that they recognized Meg and I from the dreams.  We had a brief conversation about what was happening and how the world would soon know about our existence and how we can prepare ourselves.  The Analyst shared plans he had for taking over the hedge fund he ran and how he used that to influence the world view in our favor when the time came.  I encouraged The Widow to strike up conversations with The Charlatan’s brother, as he may soon come into a very large fortune.  She caught my meaning and we planned to meet in L.A. in two weeks.  Almost all of this was done mentally, with only mindless chit-chat taking place between us.  The only thing more suspicious than three people planning crazy shit is three people standing around not saying anything.  That just looks weird.



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The weekend came quicker than expected.  We met at my private airport outside of my Bombardier Global 7500.  The Charlatan arrived with his small entourage of security personnel, his assistants, and his brother.  6 people in total.  I arrived with myself, Meg, Fernando, Kira with Ana riding shotgun, Candace, Sabrina, Tate, and the flight crew.  Aside from the 2 pilots, the crew were 6 women that I was very familiar with.  The flight attendants were Veronica Kilshire and her stepsister Taryn, Doris and Claire, and the twins Izzy and Elle Starlight.  Meg decided to bring her harem with us since the main reason The Charlatan wanted to come on this trip was for a 16 hour orgy, and Meg wants some fun, too.  The other women were guests that might’ve had a clue what was up, but they weren’t passing up a chance to get close to some billionaires.  Candace was a VS model, Sabrina was an actress turned musician who was the hot flavor of the summer, and Tate was an up and coming musical artist from Canada with a set of legs that could start wars.

The Charlatan and his brother were a little confused by the amount of crew, until it became obvious why they were there.  It took less than a half hour after taking off before The Charlatan had his hand up Taryn’s skirt and his brother was throatfucking the gymnast Veronica.  The rest of us got into the act and I decided to get to know Sabrina  while Meg was seeing how far Tate’s legs went.  By the time we were two hours into the flight, everyone was into it whether they liked it or not.  The Charlatan was doing his best to fuck every woman on the flight, but Kira and Meg weren’t letting him near.  His security and assistants let their guards down once they saw that no one was armed and enjoyed themselves to their hearts content.  Not gonna lie, tag teaming Sabrina Carpenter while getting a rim job from Tate McRae definitely made my day.

I don’t know what The Charlatan does before getting on a flight, but it took until we were 12 hours into the flight before he finally tired enough to take any suggestions of sleeping.  That man lived to feed his ego, and nothing does that like fucking hot chicks.  He finally passed out four hours from touchdown with the twins in bed with him.  Once he was out, I entered his mind to root around in his memories and dreams while he was unconscious.  I found his source of power and had to decide what to do with it.  I seriously contemplated killing him right then and there, but that would be a little too obvious.  Instead, I did something more insidious.

I gave him a stroke.

I ripped his speech center to shreds, making him permanently aphasiac.  He couldn’t understand what others said, and they couldn’t understand what he said.  Since his empathic power rests in his power of speech and language center, if he couldn’t speak he couldn’t impress his thoughts onto others.  Just to be an extra bit of a dick, I planted a couple mental blocks that would keep him from ever using his abilities again, and a trigger to be used later on.

The next couple hours on the flight were pretty quiet.  Most everyone was exhausted, but that didn’t stop everyone.  Meg was enjoying her first time fucking a Victoria Secret’s model and modifying her personality to be open to her advances in the future.  Ana was having fun inside of Sabrina riding my cock for the third time that night.  The Charlatan’s brother spent half the night fucking Veronica and her stepsister Taryn, and Kira was just tired.  Kira only wanted to sleep with me, which I obliged once or twice, though she was a little upset about sharing me. 

I slept lightly until we were about a half hour out.  That’s when the shit hit the fan.

Our first clue that something was wrong was when Izzy and Elle felt weird when they woke up, like there was a bad vibe in the room.  I knew this was because he wasn’t projecting how amazing he was.  When they tried to get him up, they couldn’t understand what he said.  He was speaking gibberish.  Nobody could understand him.  His security was in the room in seconds flat.  They were trying to get him to tell him what happened, but no one could understand him, and he was freaking out as well.  They helped get him dressed, and demanded that we land as soon as possible.  We were 20 minutes from Sydney so I asked the pilots to phone ahead for an ambulance to meet us on the tarmac.

We landed and the mood on the plane was somber.  Meg, Ana, and I went through everyone else’s minds about what happened so far that morning.  I also gave Candace, Tate, and Sabrina a little nudge to not talk about this to anyone.  We’ve already programmed Meg’s girls, so there wasn’t any work needed there.

The Charlatan’s guards walked him down the stairs, but he pushed them away.  He would regret that for the rest of his life.  He was ten feet up in the air when I activated the trigger.  A blood vessel ruptured in his brain, causing his entire right side to collapse.  He lost his balance and flopped over the side of the case, landing awkwardly on the ground and cracking his skull off of the pavement.  The medics were on site right away, doing everything they could for him.  They loaded him into an ambulance, only his assistant was allowed to follow.  Well, Ana too.  She hitched a ride inside of The Charlatan’s assistant to keep us in the loop until we got there.

After making sure our celebrity friends left the scene unseen, Kira got us transport to the hotel then to the hospital.  It didn’t take long for the world to find out that The Charlatan had a pretty bad stroke and was temporarily paralyzed.  When he fell, he broke one of his vertebrae, severing his spinal cord and turning him into a quadriplegic.  He was trapped in his body, unable to communicate or move.  He had all the money in the world to try a bunch of crazy solutions, but his injuries were too severe.  It took about a week before he succumbed to his injuries.  He developed an infection which gave him pneumonia.  Since he couldn’t cough it out, he choked in his own lungs.  As tempting as it was to let him know it was me that did this, I thought better and let him have his peace.



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Admiral Nelson was pissed about how I handled the situation.  “I said compliant, not a vegetable.”  I let him have his anger in my office for a bit.

“That was the original plan, but we found out more about him and his aspirations.  Long story short, he was planning on turning himself into a god-like king, and our government was just a means to an end.  I gave him a night of pure bliss before a week of Hell.  That’s more than he deserved.”  I said to the Admiral as I drank a coffee.

He was pretty pissed, but admitted that I did the right thing.  I didn’t push this thought to him, and neither did Meg.  The Jamaican gave him a slight nudge, which both men admitted to.  The Admiral didn’t want to admit that I was right while he was mad.  That’s just how stubborn some men can be.

I held up my end of the bargain, and he held up his, at least in the short term.  We were off of the U.S. Government’s radar and had free reign to continue our mission and experiments, and they would leave us alone as long as nothing too crazy happened.  If it did, he’d stop by for a visit.  It took a few months for something crazy to happen, but that’s a different story.

As far as The Analyst and The Widow go, they’re stories intertwine with mine more over the years.  The Analyst soon became obscenely wealthy and used the bulk of his fortune to fund humanitarian operations under the pretense of helping the less fortunate but really funded our rise over the next century.  The next time I saw The Charlatan’s brother, he was attached to the hip to The Widow.  He was dead within 2 years, and she was a lot richer.  She joined the cause as well, and we soon became fast friends.  One regret I would have over the years was teaching her how to change bodies, but like I said that’s a story for another time.