Over the summer, pretty much out of the blue, I had been yanked from public high school and sent off to a boarding school for my senior year. This was a big and, to me, a sudden change.
Now, really, don't feel sorry for me. All right, so I had mixed feelings about this, sure, but, while it kept me out of my parents' hair, it was also keeping me out of range when they argued and fought, too, so there was a measure of relief mixed into the confusion. My arrival here was, to me, proof that I'd never see them as a "happy" couple ever again. Not that they'd ever seemed all that happy. Ever. I suspect that, me being the youngest and approaching the age of eighteen, that they couldn't wait to get as far from each other as they could.
So, yeah, I might have felt some ambivalence over this whole situation... but I wasn't sure.
Despite that sense of relief in escaping the cauldron of anger my parents delighted in stirring up for each other, it should be noted that most new arrivals to a boarding school will face a lot of confusion, too, despite all of the orientation material. No, I wasn't panicking, it was just the culture shock.
The relief of not hearing my parents going at each other in the living room, kitchen, den, their bedroom, the back yard, garage and, well, they never were in the bathroom at the same time, so, yeah, there could be a few minutes of peace to be heard, was pretty much replaced by hazing, teasing and other practical jokes.
All told, as annoying as the hazing was, the guys that tried didn't get away with much, simply because I slept lightly.
For a while there I was "hair-trigger" since it didn't take much to wake me and have me react to some practical joke. This nick-name helped keep me from being a complete unperson but, to be honest, I might have preferred more complete obscurity.
Part of the conflict, of course, was that I had to share my bedroom. I'd gotten spoiled by having a room to myself for a couple of years after my older brother had joined the Marine Corps, and, during a visit, had confided that, given our parents, his time in basic training had been a cakewalk. So I knew, going in, that I'd be sharing the room, and, on arrival, had been shocked that I wasn't going to be sharing this space with one room-mate, but with three! One person I was pretty much prepared for, but...
So there were four of us in this room with two sets of bunk beds. I got the lower bed on the right side of the room since I was the newbie in this school. I really didn't care about placement and went straight to getting comfortable. Ron, another senior, got the bed above me, while George and Kenny, both juniors, got the other side of the room.
Orientation, I found, assumed too much experience with a boarding school, leaving me asking questions that most of the people were surprised to hear. Even with a lot of the answers I was hearing, the first two weeks were disorienting as I adapted to the new environment and joined the rest of the classes in transitioning into our regular classes.
In my first month in this prison I learned one of the great strengths of boarding schools: we didn't have any distractions. We had little to do but study. Socializing was, well, limited.
On the other hand, this very lack of distractions led to one of the greatest weaknesses of boarding schools: students will work to invent distractions, some of which were truly clever and impressive.
Oh, sure, many escaped into cyberspace, but that can only go so far before you have to, effectively, come up for air.
Another complication is sex... or the lack thereof. I now suspect that this is one of the things that drove some of the inventors of distraction to such creative frenzies. You see, as hormone soaked teen-agers, we boys also had to be circumspect whenever one of us had to "take matters into our own hands" so that we didn't attract attention trawling for the homosexuals in the dorms.
And, yeah, to me, that was scary to think about.
One of the things making the sexual tension worse must be that the school had both sexes represented, so we'd see girls both in class and at meals. With the girls' dorms over on the other end of the campus from ours, we were kept separate. I suspect, from my study of history, that the Soviet Union's Iron Curtain might have been some of the inspiration for the efforts taken to keep the two sexes as far apart as we were kept.
Given the level of effort in segregating the boys and girls from each other I felt the stories of various boys being able to rendezvous with "certain girls" were just so much bullshit. I'd long before come to the conclusion at my previous school that those who boasted the most were least likely to have gotten somewhere.
The existence of girls did prey on our minds, of course. It certainly preyed on mine, I can tell you that. I knew, though, that the girls couldn't be much happier than we boys were.
Even if I thought for a moment that I could hit it off with a girl, the level of supervision we were under incurred a level of despair that I couldn't get anywhere near a girl without being observed and separated, much less develop some kind of a relationship with one. Oh, sure, there were dreams and daydreams and fantasies of being able to just sit and talk to a girl at lunch or dinner time but many of the girls were, to put it mildly, aloof. It didn't take me more than one rejection to decide that sitting alone was preferable. I gave up on ever getting a chance to even talk to a girl, much less date one.
Well, that is, until I was sitting alone gnawing at my lunch, my math book open next to me where I could go over it, when a girl walked up with her tray and sat down across the table from me.
In my head, alarms went off. When something this wonderful has happened to me in the past there was a horrible price I would pay, usually through humiliation heaped on my the girl who wanted to hurt me. I have no idea why they ever wanted to hurt me but it sure caused me to tighten up my guts as I looked at her.
Even at the best of times with the non-tease girls in public high school, I had poor luck in the dating competition. In the Dating Olympics, I would have been awarded the Scrap Medal.
Suddenly, here I was, confronted with something I had never trusted before. Something I had been certain was impossible for me to see. Something... amazing.
You see, unlike all of my previous contacts, this small girl looked at me like she liked me, rather than as something she'd just stepped on and wanted to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. And she looked pleased, too, though I have little exposure to a girl-- or woman-- looking pleased, without an edge of a sneer showing. There was no sneer here.
All right, based on her body shape, I first assumed she was a freshman. That seemed pretty safe to me.
Even though she didn't have a lot meat on her yet, oddly enough, even with her paucity of womanly curves, I found her attractive and much more than merely "a little cute" to me.
Given the above observation it became obvious that my brain must be immersed in a super-saturated solution of enough testosterone to make a thin, lithe, flat chested "little" girl look incredibly feminine .
Yeah, so sue me, she was the first girl of any kind to seek me out, right there making her look like "the" perfect girl.
Me, desperate for female attention?
Yes, me.
"Hi," I finally said, trying to gently break the ice without falling through it. "I'm Joey."
She smiled at me before introducing herself.
Now, folks, don't get me wrong, here. Sure, I said that she smiled. What you can't see, here, was that her smile was so bright and blinding that it hit me like the mid-day sun after a solar eclipse. I was still floating in a sea of awe when she introduced herself. Let's not forget that I was smitten with her before she even opened her mouth to speak.
"I'm Joanie," she said, her voice further entrancing me and, reaching across, shook my hand. I was stunned as I felt a tingle of pleasure running up my arm from that contact. By the time I recovered from the feeling, she was looking at the rest of the empty table and finally looked back into my eyes, asking "All alone today?"
I smiled, trying to out-do her with a happy and sunny smile. It didn't work, of course, but it sure didn't do any harm, either. I answered her with "As usual. I don't fit in very well around here."
Her eyes were mostly pupil with a thin iris of the most attractive blue I had ever seen. I could also tell that my breathing wasn't quite as autonomic as I'd been taught in Biology. With a sweet little voice she answered me with "I have noticed, Joey, you don't... you're not... you are different. Different from all of the other boys. I don't know why or how, but you're different."
Hearing my own name spoken in her voice put me back into a state of shock, my mind floating on a sea of pleasure. It took a lot to respond to her, even though she didn't ask a question, but I wanted her to know that I wanted her to stay around me.
I nodded, spellbound, my voice on strike for not being good enough for this angel to hear. It felt odd, to me, as if she already owned me, and I'd do anything she asked. I watched as she looked around the big lunchroom, my having forgotten that I wasn't alone with her. I hung on, awaiting her next words, ready to roll over and purr.
Drawing me in with a conspiratorial tone, she told me "Joey, we'd better just eat lunch, all right? I don't want the proctors to pay any more attention to us."
I nodded, my goddess having spoken, and shook free of the worshipful state I'd hovered in, then went back to eating, my eyes trapped by hers. We managed some small talk before parting for our next class. This parting wasn't easy for me and I was too stunned at the time to realize that she didn't want to step away from me, either.
When I returned after classes for dinner, she found me again... and six more girls, all fairly young, sat down at the same table with us. A total of seven happy little girls smiling at me almost left me comatose for they all seemed to have the same angelic attraction to me. We all shook hands for introduction and it finally struck me that they were as tingly from the touch as I was.
I'll have you know that the whole concept of "love" has been confusing and ambiguous to me for years. I wanted it but was also afraid of it, for instance, and I didn't know what "it" is or what it really felt like, despite all of the romantic movies I've seen, so how would I know? Compounding this whole question was the almost violent dissolution of my parents as a couple, too, which really makes one question what the word "love" really means.
Skittish? Yes. Let's not go into the scar tissue that held me back for so long and made me a mark for acts of cruelty in school.
Here, over dinner, I learned, suddenly, that love isn't something you feel, as an individual, but something you share. And I was sharing it with my seven companions, and they with me, the pleasure of our company triggering some shared giggles. There seemed to be an almost immediate lift to my mood. I was almost sensitive enough to detect their mood rising with mine.
We all chatted over dinner, getting introductions, spending some of my time startled that they were all seniors like myself despite also being so much younger than I.
On top of this was the ability for all of us to converse in partial sentences. It seemed like I knew where any one of them was going when they spoke up, and, at the same time, every one of them I spoke with seemed to know what I was feeling, if not thinking, when I spoke.
I have no idea how I paid enough attention, but all eight of us were using the same rhythm with the forks. I discovered later that we all tended to breathe in synchrony as well.
While I found Joanie's eyes as captivating as they'd been at lunch, I was also sharing gazes with all of the others, too, and they with me. Joanie was at least as fixated on me as I was on her, too.
It was not comfortable for me to have to leave these seven girls-- or them to leave me-- but we couldn't spend any more time together that night.
Later that night my room-mate Ron warned me, saying "Joey, watch out for those girls. They always ace tests, no one knows how. I've heard rumors that they've got some kind of a cheat system set up... but they've never been caught. Also, there are stories going around that they're all lesbians, too. Watch out, OK, buddy? I don't want to see you get hurt by any of them."
Despite the warning I was still smitten. I felt like I was able to trust them not to hurt me, even if that was a major shift in how I usually felt after being teased in the past.
My sleep that night was, for the first time in my life, filled with dreams. Dreams that included Joanie's eyes. Kissing Joanie. Kissing the other girls. And...
I've only seen a woman's pussy in pictures, never in real life. I dreamt of licking Joanie's and savoring her taste. That dream moved into weirdness as I dreamt of being a girl and Joanie licking me, too, as a girl. It was strange at the same time it was exhilarating.
Other dreams I had and remembered in the morning were more of the same all being overtly sexual. Some included visions of me with a gray spot where my genitals would be. These dreams, when I woke up, left evidence. My shorts were filled.
Sure, I know, nocturnal emissions can be embarrassing. Sure there is some hazing value, as if anyone ever completely escaped having them them, but, with the situation here, no one escaped waking up with occasionally wet pants from a dream that "leaks", so to speak. Clean-up was, at least, quick enough in the shower.
Joanie was the first to meet me at breakfast. The rest of her platoon showed up while we were eating and took seats around us. Before we broke up again for classes she told me "I dreamed about you last night."
I sighed and realized that maybe I should be as honest, so I admitted "I dreamt about you, too. And the others. I hope you guys don't mind..."
Joanie nodded at me, as did the rest of her entourage, all of them looking happy. "Good, that means something special. Read up on the collective unconscious, will you, Joey?"
The term didn't feel like much of a surprise to me, so I nodded my agreement before we parted again for our classes.
Maybe partings get easier over time, but, this time, I don't know why, but it felt like we weren't quite as parted as we really were. It didn't make much sense because it was only a feeling.
Classes dragged until I had library time and went digging, using 'collective unconscious' as a search term. It was fascinating.
The idea also explained why I felt connected to Joanie. And the rest of her posse, too. I felt a strong yearning for Joanie as well as all of her friends, too. I didn't fully realize, until later, that this attraction was mutual: all seven of these angelic girls were feeling the same kind of pull towards me.
And, lest you forget, a lot of that pull had a sexual edge to it, too, even though none of us had any experience in that area.
Well, for male-female sex. I wasn't naive enough to think none of them wasn't familiar with female-female sex.
The eight of us quickly formed a regular group at meal times, spending the next month eating and talking together. At first the other boys teased me about hanging with the "little girl lesbians" but this changed, within the first two weeks, to envy, once one of the guys observed how they all looked at me.
I guess it's lucky that few of the guys bothered to pay any attention to how I looked at the girls.
During this month my classwork improved as I felt like I was understanding the presented material more easily. It seemed uncanny but I suspected there was some leakage through my unconscious-- and certainly subliminal-- connection with the seven girls.
"The" seven girls? Perhaps my seven girls? I couldn't be so lucky, could I? But it seemed that the Universe at large was making up for the abuse I'd suffered before... finally.
Before the end of the fourth week, I was invited by Joanie-- and, indirectly, her mom-- out to her house for the week-end. A week-end off campus with all eight of us. All packed like sardines in a mini-van. I was in the back seat with Joanie on my lap.
Joanie's mom Amy had greeted me warmly and proved to be a very pleasant woman who welcomed a hug from me, setting off a wild hug-fest, the first chance I had to wrap any of these girls in my arms.
Amy's body showed me that the leading object of my affection was not likely to ever develop a big bust. By this time in my life I'd grown beyond bust size as a measure of beauty. I already saw Joanie as a beauty, but, then, all seven girls were beauties to me, and not from wet dreams alone. That Amy liked me gave me a sense of warmth that I'd felt some worry about. Amy, in case you had any doubt, also has those captivating eyes that her daughter Joanie-- and the others-- have.
So, there I was, riding in the back seat of the minivan, the object of my lust perched on my lap, my arms around her in an effort to hold her to me and keep her still, my hands tingling non-stop from being able to touch more of a girl than I ever have, and I think, now, it took a miracle of Biblical proportions for me to not spray down my underwear under her delectable little bottom.
Hell, all of the girls I'd been sharing meal-time with had captivating eyes, so Joanie wasn't alone in that assessment, and my hands were occasionally drawn away from Joanie to be put against another girl's body. The girls on either side of me had my hands on their thighs, for instance, and I felt hair against the back of my right hand, which had been pushed against her crotch. That hand got wet and I felt my fingers used to play with the pussy. My left hand soon made the same trip.
When we piled out it was Joanie who took my middle fingers of my hands and put them to my mouth, telling me, happily, to taste them.
The funny part was that I knew these tastes, from my dreams.
Now don't get me wrong, here. I'm a lustful teen-age boy, you see, but Amy handed me a sleeping bag and led me into the bedroom that Joanie shared with her older sister Bobbi, who was already eighteen.
The girls were teaching me the finer points of sleep-over etiquette, and, when they discovered that I had no "regular" pajamas since I sleep in my skivvies, Bobbi, whose official name was Roberta, decreed that we'd all sleep in the nude.
I may be spellbound, but...
No, there's no "may" about it. I was spellbound. I did as suggested and we all sat there in the nude, the girls marvelling over my erect penis as I took in some of the most arousing nipples and pussies I have ever seen, especially since they were all "in the flesh", so to speak.
We got warmed up with a couple of rounds of truth or dare. I got to kiss and feel up each of the girls and they got to kiss and feel me up, too. There was a lot of sexual touching that kept escalating and I was an eager student to catch up with the girls, wanting any girl I was with to feel "good". I was told I was pretty successful.
Once we'd exhausted that game, what with some serious exchanges of oral attentions, including Bobbi's coaching each girl in the finer features of fellatio (just as I had been tutored and tested in cunnilingus) it was time for one game I was expecting to enjoy, especially given Bobbi's draining of my balls at the end of the last one.
The game of "musical pussies" was, well, different. Music would be played, and, taking turns, when a recipient had an orgasm, they could not get licked any more but still had to provide a tongue, meaning that, as the game progressed, fewer and fewer girls-- with me, players-- had more and more girls-- well, players-- giving them attention. While the song played we'd be licking away at the recipients, and, when it stopped, we exchanged places with the next person in the circle.
I was not left out. I almost wished I had been left out. I did not last as long as I'd hoped, given the previous effort to drain my balls, but, really, I was the third to go off, right into Joanie's newly learned mouth. So, finally, I was able to rotate around the circle and help the next player who was giving attention. I got a lot more experience with kissing and sucking nipples, and, as fewer and fewer remained "in", I was soon sucking on toes or fingers.
Bobbi had held out the longest, being the person who hadn't come in the previous rounds. I didn't realize, at that time, what her prize for "winning" was going to be that night.
Yes, you guessed it. I was her prize.
Sure, I had gotten something of an expectation that Joanie would choose to "make a man out of me" bit, instead, this fell to her older sister.
And, despite my anxiety, this was going to be in front of a crowd of spectators.
Bobbi had already climbed on top of me and was rotating her pussy to tease me, right at her entrance, when Amy came into the room. My heart almost stopped before Amy looked down into my eyes, saying "whatever you do, don't stop what you're doing." She then faced her daughter, still poised for penetration, saying "Bobbi, don't tease the poor boy, all right?"
I hadn't been primed to go off right away... and I didn't.
A part of me watched Amy as she found a comfortable place to sit near us then reach over to stroke my scalp while Bobbi bounced on the pole she'd drenched with her tasty oils.
Our first orgasm, when it arrived suddenly, taking me by surprise, was simultaneous, and, for me, was so powerful that my balls were suddenly buzzing in the after-effects. My dick had not softened. I heard Bobbie moan out "Oh, God, that's so wonderful!" and, once she caught her breath, started herself bouncing on me all over again.
In hindsight this was a surprising situation. I've heard various stories, you see, and I've read that virgins, of both sexes, tend to be nervous. Given the lead-in to this coupling I think it would be safe to say that I had some level of confidence, going in, that I wasn't a complete idiot.
But, having come so powerfully once, I expected this pass to take a lot longer... so, Bobbie seeming to anticipate me, we rolled over. Because we had to separate I had to find her again... and was startled when a hand grabbed "me" and then guided it into Bobbi's wet core. I was more surprised when I looked and saw it was Joanie's hand, which confirmed to me that she approved of what Bobbi and I were doing.
I got some coaching, this time from Amy, as I pounded myself deep into Bobbi. It was amazing how quickly I approached a climax and then...
Bobbi wailed out her wild throbbing orgasm as I tried to empty whatever I had left in the way of semen into her clutching depths.
At the same time all hell broke loose in my head.
It's all clear in hindsight, you know. At the time I had no warning at all that things would change for me enormously.
True, all of the girls-- and women-- expected to "awaken" my abilities through sex. After all, Joanie had had sex with all eight of the girls around her and had awakened them into their telepathic life.
Their first hint that things could be different with a man was when Bobbi came on top of me... and her telepathic abilities had gotten much stronger, instantly. When I was pounding into Bobbi, though, the sensations got around with all of them as Bobbi neared her orgasm, and, with both of us coming again, they all shared it, and, in that fury of shared orgasmic splendor, I became a telepath, bonding instantly with all nine of the women around me.
So, with our second shared climax, it was like a door opening in my mind with light, thoughts and sensations from Roberta and others spilling into me.
It took more than a little bit of attention, which came with the slide down from our orgasmic high, to realize that this door in my head worked both ways and that my thoughts, feelings and sensations spilled out through all of the women I was inexplicably connected to.
And, of course, I knew what love is. At least for the kind of human being I am now.
I realized that there was a fair amount of detail that I could now exchange on a fully conscious level. I learned, for instance, the full secret, Joanie had somehow become an active telepath without sexual contact, having awakened on entering puberty. The upside and downside consisted of her efforts to give the gift to others, which must have been frustrating, but, somehow, she and her sister had ended up in a clinch as spin-off when Joanie was being taught the manifold pleasures of masturbation.
This coincidental contact proved that she could pass this ability on via sex. Seducing her mother was harder to do so it was Roberta who discovered that, with her being an active telepath, she could pass it along, too.
The crushing blows Joanie had experienced had taught her to be more careful of who she tried to pass it to.
Holly "felt" different from the other girls and hadn't been afraid, being already fairly comfortable with girl to girl contact... and her awakening was a pleasure. This lesson worked in Bobbi's favor, too, though Bobbi had slimmer pickings at college.
We spent the rest of that first week-end testing each other's ability to communicate thoughts, words, impressions and emotion, trying to figure out what some of the new limits were. A surprising amount of our abilities, we found, had been unlocked or enhanced through sexual contact.
By the time we returned to school, three of the seven girls in my "harem" had been "womanized", as Amy jokingly called it, by me, and, in each case, their abilities, originally awakened by Joanne, were strengthened on climaxing with me. The three-- Holly, Helen and Pam-- were chosen due to their ovulation cycle given that all three were well past peak fertility so they were, for the most part, "inconceivable". Joanie, herself, was due to drop an egg within the next 2-3 days, and I enthusiastically agreed with Amy and Roberta that it'd be a bad idea for us to take a chance where Joanie-- or any of the others-- could become pregnant.
It was Bobbi, though, who had the age and freedom to try making a baby with me, even though she was two months shy of her nineteenth birthday. Bobbi, with Amy's concurrence, had me try to get her pregnant through the rest of that first week-end, which certainly took some of the pressure off of the girls, allowing them to recover from the soreness of their first times with a man.
Returning to school after discovering and exploring sexual relationships, along with love and affection, qualified as anti-climactic. We were back under the watchful eyes of the proctors who kept a surprisingly close eye on the eight of us.
You might think that we were paranoid but we could actually feel the feelings of various proctors and "hear" some of their sub-vocalized conversations with themselves. So our days enforced a level of physical distance.
For all of us-- including Roberta and even Amy-- physical distance wasn't much of a bar against emotional and mental closeness, where we were mentally all cuddled up in a huge pile.
At night, distance almost evaporated, as our dreams merged. Dreams were now far more vivid because I was part of the web and riding along with them, sharing their sexual contacts with each other, feeling the three I'd popped already still burning for repeat performances. That my own sexual desires fueled many of these dreams was appreciated by all of the girls... and women.
Tapping "normal" people for their "unconscious", while never detailed in the way we telepaths can share with each other, was not easy. Even with everything we learned, though, I was working up and acing tests and, in classwork, seemed to understand teachers better than I had ever before, even if I could not read them in any detail.
In hindsight it seems likely that I wouldn't have been able to pass Calculus, much less be any good at it, without being able to follow the intuitive leaps of both the teacher and my classmates. Later life proved that I hadn't borrowed the information but that I had, actually, learned it all.
Every week-end we'd be off campus at Amy's. The second week-end escape had me taking care of two more of our clique and even Amy, as well. I would not have believed how much sperm my seventeen-year-old testicles could produce; Roberta wasn't the only one requesting a repeat performance.
You can bet I was not complaining.
Amy made sure I got it together with Joanie the following week-end, just before her period was due.
By this time all ten of us were bonded together. While we might have been seen as a "group mind", especially the way we were sharing dreams, we still retained a surprising level of individual identity. Our talents and skills were a help since we each had different ways of seeing, thinking and doing, so there were synergies in the way our individual strengths and weaknesses fit together.
It is a pity that a lot of the classical stories about telepaths are so much bullshit. We can't even influence normals, for instance, much less exert control over them. Hell, we can't even really read much of their minds, except when we have physical contact. Oh, sure, we can read their emotions and sub-vocalized speech from a distance, but there were some hard and immovable limits. We can even sense certain kinds of people, based on the "flavor" of their minds, like police. We can feel speed traps, for instance, because the officers seem to be fairly focused on their work, which we can sense. Through touch, we can read more of their surface thoughts and get more detail on subtle emotional states. Best of all, even from a distance, we can tell when we hear the truth... and lies.
We can't lie to each other, though. We can try to hide some of our thoughts and feelings, yes, but lie? No. We can't even deflect a direct question from each other, either.
My first child, a son, was born nine months after my first time with-- and by-- Bobbi, proved to be a "latent" teep. Amy, despite being divorced and still "single", gave birth to my first daughter, also a latent teep.
Joanie and I got married once I was accepted into the University closest to Amy's home. Given the three years difference in age between Joanie and I, Amy made sure that all of the approvals went through ahead of time. Still being under the age of eighteen at the wedding meant that there wasn't any possible complication like a charge of statutory rape. It was a good thing the wedding went through when it did, though, because two days later I was over the age of eighteen.
It helped that Joanie and the rest of my "harem" were accepted in the same University, all of us with scholarships to cover our tuition.
It was Amy's idea that she and Roberta become baby factories right away to raise more telepaths, trying to make sure there were more people like us in the world. I was shocked at first, you must realize, but... I think my "Y" chromosome convinced me that it'd be something to go along with. It was a good thing that, aside from Joanie, none of my harem would have their first children before they were legal adults. Given how we could read the feelings and many of the thoughts of each other, pregnancy wasn't so scary because we all shared in it.
Joanie's first child by me was another latent teep.
Given that we chose to study for fairly high-paying jobs where we could still bear to look at ourselves in a mirror, it was easy to afford to move to a larger home nearby and got into a good rota for baby production without overburdening anyone... including me.
By the time the first of my children were close to reaching puberty, things changed yet again.
We all felt something strange nearby and we'd never felt the like before. We'd recognized other latent telepaths, almost always women, as they attended or taught at the University and weighed whether to awaken them or not, but this new sensation came from something more than a mere latent telepath.
This sparked us, as a family, to go a-hunting. Joanie led the search and found that one of the guest lecturers at the local University was an already active telepath and had surprised Joanie by anticipating her arrival, having sensed the presence of our family already. When I caught up with my wife to meet Rita, and active teep, she was shocked that I was an active male telepath, commenting on the extreme scarcity. Because I wasn't "bonded" to Rita, our telepathic communication wasn't as easy as having our edges overlap.
In our "chat" with Rita we learned that not being part of a larger network of telepaths kept us from knowing more of what we could do. So we brought Rita home with us and we bonded with her... and I learned, getting what Rita called the "standard download" of skills. This was passed along to the rest of "my" family of telepaths pretty much automatically, ensuring that we had a grasp of all of the skills needed to exercise our unusual talent.
Rita was able to get us tied into a larger network of teep "family units" across the country who communicated over long distances via phone and internet. With the discovery that male teeps aren't common, the problem of inbreeding and a lack of genetic diversity was, well, worrying. We all wanted our children to have someone to marry, after all, so the consequences of the monoculture problem hit home. Given the relative shortage of male telepaths my family considered our role in how the rest of the connected teep families were dealing with it.
Don't let me kid you, the solution of exchanging male teeps between families and encouraging appropriate inter-marriage of the children, who would then be subject to exchanges in their lives, isn't anything like what I wanted. It made the process of love, marriage, child raising and even just out-and-out fucking start sounding more like work.
Despite all that, for the good of all telepaths, being exchanged was part of being a "good" teep. So, with the agreement of my family, I was up for grabs.
This is the down side to being a teep: The responsibility to make more of us. A responsibility to handle the needs of juggling our genes as best we could. A responsibility to shuffle one's family for the good of all.
Joanie followed me, as my official wife, when we left our little family once the negotiations with another "family" were completed, where I would exchange places with an older man who'd make babies with the harem of women I'd been so busy making babies with. I'd become the new "daddy" over there. Joanie and I were encouraged to bring our five children-- of them, only three were latents-- with us. It was a tearful parting, but we knew it was for the best.
Someday, though, most likely not in my lifetime, telepathy won't be such a rare talent within the human race. The hope is that empathy will become more common as we try to teach it, too, since we can't escape it. No telepath, even latent ones, has ever been without some empathy, you see.
It is our understanding of empathy and a desire to spread it around as best we can that drives us, giving us optimism for the long-term survival of the human species. I sometimes wonder, late at night, if our role was to keep humanity honest with itself.
Meanwhile?
I try to make babies who will grow up into telepaths.
It's a tough job but somebody has to look out for the future of the human race.
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Author: Jack C Lipton Title: Jumpstart: Jung Girls Part: Universe: psi phi Summary: Some things are not immediately obvious to the eye... or whatever Keywords: mf fm ffm impreg Revision: $Revision: 1.7 $ Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/CupaSoup/www/ Mailing List: FAQ: RCS: $Id: JungGirls.x,v 1.7 2007/02/23 17:02:41 cupasoup Exp $