Chapter 3: Greg

Greg stood on a high precipice, staring across the vast expanse. Beneath him, a red light glowed, casting a crimson tinge over everything and contributing an evil overtone to the land as shadows leapt up from ledges and protrusions, hiding the creatures who dwelt in the chasm.

Greg felt a presence behind him. He knew the presence, was familiar with it. It crept along the ground until it reached him, and then it ascended his body like a silky skin. It settled against him, and it whispered into his ear.

"Jump in."

"But the fall will kill me!"

"What awaits you is not death."

"I can't! It's gotta be a thousand feet down!"

"It is your destiny."

Greg turned from the chasm, stepping away from the edge. The silky presence did not waver, but Greg knew that it was disappointed. He walked back into the cave which led to the prominence on which he'd been standing.

"You must jump," the voice told him again.

"Why?" Greg asked.

"Only then can you fulfill your destiny."

"What destiny?"

"Greatness."

"You're talking in riddles!"

"Jump in, and all will become clear to you."

Just then, Greg was surrounded by shadowy beings, creatures with no form and little substance, yet able to block out all light. They swirled around him.

"You must jump in!" the voice insisted.

Greg stumbled back as the creatures pressed in upon him. They were herding him back to the edge.

"You... must... jump... NOW!" the voice whispered hoarsely.

Greg turned, and looked once again at the shining light at the bottom of the gorge.

"You promise I won't die?" he asked.

"Death does not await you," it assured him.

Greg took a deep breath, and took a running leap off the prominence. Immediately, he was falling, and screaming.

"You promised!"

"I didn't promise you wouldn't fall, fool!" the voice hissed.

Greg screamed again as he continued to plunge into the depth. The crimson orb of light - and thus the bottom, he assumed - approached rapidly, growing closer and closer. Then, he was engulfed...

-----

Greg sat bolt upright in bed. His heart was racing, and he was covered in sweat. He took a few big gulps of air, then fell back onto his bed.

"Fuck, where did that come from?"

Greg's dream disturbed him. He'd never had a falling dream before. The entity in the dream that had engulfed him was not a fear; he had met him long before, and the being had never once harmed him. That was why Greg had felt confident enough to jump. He found that he had a growing headache, and decided to get up to get some aspirin.

Greg padded silently to the bathroom, and got a drink of water and the aspirin, downing them quickly. He hoped that they would work soon; his headache was getting progressively worse. Finally, he started to walk back to his room.

As he came out of the bathroom, his sister, Donna, came out of her room. She walked toward him, clearly also going to the bathroom.

When she got close enough, she growled at him in disgust. "Put some damned clothes on, you pervert! I don't want to see you all hanging out! Bad enough you woke me up with all your yelling!"

Greg made a show of standing in the light and waving his dick at her. He never wore clothes to bed, and he really enjoyed the way it embarrassed and tormented her. She went into the bathroom and closed the door firmly.

Greg snickered as he went back to his room. His headache seemed to be easing somewhat, but he now felt as if there was a tingling in his head. He hoped that was just a need for more sleep.

I didn't know that I talked in my sleep. Well, hell, if it bugs her, all the better!

-----

Greg had awakened to the tingling sensation, even stronger than it had been before. He sat up slowly, wondering if he would be dizzy, but his equilibrium was normal. He went to the bathroom, almost hoping to annoy Donna again, but she was already in the kitchen, he could tell. He got dressed and joined her.

"What the hell was your problem last night?" she grumped. "You screamed loud enough to wake the dead! And Lord knows there's enough of those around here!" The Parson family lived in northern California, and the area still had not recovered fully from the devastation of the war. Though they had a decent lifestyle, it was not nearly as comfortable as life had once been. Greg, however, had never known that easier life, so he did not miss it. Besides, the current "might makes right" existence suited him just fine.

"Just a fucking bad dream. Now shut up and leave me alone."

Donna kept her peace after that. She didn't like her brother, and after his display the previous night, she was also somewhat grossed out by him. She left for school without waiting for him as she normally would have. Greg didn't really pay that any attention.

-----

Later in the day, Greg was wandering down the hall at school, looking for someone. He didn't know exactly who, but he was sure he'd recognize her when he saw her. Finally, close to the time the bell was going to ring, he spotted her. She was even moving in the right direction. He moved in close behind her, and as she walked past the storage closet, he grabbed her, put his hand over her mouth, and pulled her into the closet with him.

He pushed her back against the door as he turned on the light. He saw the fear in her eyes, and that was almost better than what he had planned.

"Okay, bitch. You've got a choice. You can suck me off, or I can rape your slut ass right here. You got it?" She nodded, her eyes filled with terror. "What's it gonna be?" he demanded.

As the girl began to sink to her knees, Greg let her loose. She was soon kneeling in front of him, her head down. Greg, impatient to get on with it, undid his pants and pushed them down his legs, along with his boxers, exposing his hardening cock to her view. She started to shake in fear.

"C'mon, you stupid cow! Get to sucking!" Greg grabbed her head and forced it into his crotch, his dick sliding along the side of her face. He let her loose just enough so that she could actually get his dick between her lips, but then he grabbed hold of her head and started to force her onto his cock. She was gagging with his deep thrusts, but he didn't care; the feel of her throat trying to close down on him actually aroused him more.

Greg continued to use the girl, shoving his prick into her again and again. He could feel his climax approaching, and began to thrust his hips as well as yanking on her head. In a few more seconds, he blasted his load into her mouth, spurting for several seconds before finally tapering off.

As he regained his breath and his cock began to shrink, he pulled himself from between her lips. The girl immediately fell onto her hands and knees, and spit out Greg's cum all over the floor. Greg was enraged, even though this was usually what happened when he did this to a girl. The thought that anyone would reject him, or any part of him, brought out his full fury.

"You're supposed to swallow it, you stupid cunt! Now lick that up, and I mean every goddamned bit of it!" As he spoke, Greg felt the tingle in his head - something he'd been trying to ignore - expand. It engulfed him in a silky essence that was eerily familiar to him. He was about to reach down to push the girl's face to the floor, which was what he would normally have to do to make her lick up his cum, but she was already bent over lapping at it as if it was life-giving ambrosia.

Greg pulled up his pants as he watched the girl licking the floor clean of his spunk. He grinned malevolently at how sick she would probably be later from whatever crap might be on the floor.

Finally, when the girl was done, she got shakily to her feet. She was about to leave, when Greg said, "Hey, is that all? You just take my cum and go?" He loved his little joke; he used it on almost every girl in some way. "Why don't you show me your tits before you leave?"

Normally, the girls just gave a dirty look and then ran out. This girl stopped, then turned and lifted up her T-shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra because she didn't really have a good pair, but Greg admired the view, anyway. He reached out and pinched her nipple, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Nice tits," he said. "Okay, you can go. But I wouldn't go saying anything to anyone, if you know what's good for you." She nodded in fear, and ran out. As she left, Greg stretched. He really had wanted to fuck her, but she'd cooperated, so he let her off easy. He was sure he'd find another girl to screw soon enough.

What the hell was that all about, though? She seemed to do what I told her to, without me having to force her. At least, after the tingly thing happened, anyway. I wonder... am I a psionic? I haven't heard that much about exactly what powers they have. Maybe they can control people. I should try some stuff, to see what I can do. But I've got to be careful, or I'll get my ass killed.

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

Greg walked down a long hallway, with no doors except at the far end. He walked with confidence and felt no fear. He reached the door at the far end, and went in.

The room he entered was mirrored on all four walls. He stepped to the middle, and then looked at himself.

"Closer. Get closer," the voice said to him. For the first time, Greg noticed that the silky entity did not approach him, but was, in fact, already with him.

As Greg approached the far wall, the voice said, "Close your eyes." Greg did so, but kept walking. After several more paces, the voice said, "Stop."

"Now what?" Greg asked.

"Open your eyes."

Slowly, Greg's eyelids parted. He was only a foot away from the mirrored wall. The eyes staring back at him glowed a deep crimson. It was the same color as the orb from his last dream like this one. He could also sense, almost see, the silky entity that coated him. Finally, a question occurred to him, one he'd never bothered to ask before.

"Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?"

"Don't play games. Who are you?"

There is only one person having this conversation," the voice said.

-----

Greg sat up in bed, startled. I was talking to myself in my dream? Why would I see myself as some kind of inky mass? And why would I then coat myself? That makes no sense. Fuck it, it's just a dream anyway.

Greg got up and walked to the bathroom to get a drink of water and take a piss. After relieving himself, he reached for the glass on the sink, but as his fingers touched it, it slid away.

"Dammit," he muttered quietly. He reached for it again, but once more, as soon as his hand touched it, it slipped away from him.

"What the fuck?" he muttered louder. One last time, he reached for the glass. This time, it slid off onto the floor. It was plastic, so it didn't break, but it made a loud clank, which actually made Greg jump.

"Goddammit, what the hell is this shit?" He sat down on the toilet seat, and considered.

What the fuck is going on now? Wait... what if I really am a psionic, and yesterday was real, and not just the girl being weird? This would be... what do they call it... telekinesis. Yeah. Okay, so how do I make it work? I mean, if I'm not hallucinating, it was already working, but how do I make it do what I want?

After several minutes of pondering, Greg tried reaching out his hand toward the glass and concentrating on it. He thought very hard to himself, Come Here!

Suddenly, the glass lifted off the floor and flew into his hand so hard that it stung. He quickly gripped the glass.

Well, fucking cool! I really am a psionic! A dark look crossed his face. This is gonna be fun.

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

"...and...Gotcha!" The needle, which was floating in midair, suddenly flew across the bedroom and embedded itself in the moth, pinning it to the wall where it had landed. Greg smiled to himself. It had been a week since he'd discovered what he was, and he had played with his skills only in private so far. He had wanted to have some confidence in what he could do before potentially exposing himself to trouble.

Today, however, he figured it was time to begin enjoying the fruits of his labors.

Look out world, Greg Parson is here!

-----

Greg was leaning against the wall in the school hallway, watching the kids walk by. He looked up at the ceiling tiles, and got an idea. Tilting his head back down so that he could just barely see the tiles, he focused on one particular one. Slowly, he reached out to it with his mind, and lifted it off its frame. He twisted it in its frame just enough, and then set it back down. For several minutes, he didn't do anything more; he wanted everyone in the hall to have seen it that way.

Once he figured everyone knew the tile was already crooked, he reached out to it again. He started tugging on it, and it was moving, inch by inch. Greg wasn't paying any attention to who was walking underneath the tile; it wasn't important.

Finally, the tile let loose and fell. A feminine scream got Greg's attention, and he looked to see that the tile had landed on the head of one of the female teachers. The tile actually broke over her head, and pieces showered down around her. Along with several spiders, which she saw. Her screaming redoubled as she tried to shake them off herself.

All the students in the hallway were laughing, so Greg did not have to hold in his chuckles of glee. He decided to make his way to class, but he was laughing all the way there.

Kinda stupid, but a good start. Let's see what else we can do.

-----

"How was your day at school, Honey?" Greg's mother asked. She placed his dinner down in front of him, and sat down to eat hers. Donna was already attacking her own meal.

Greg shrugged. "It was okay. Same old crap."

Mrs. Parson considered scolding him about the language, but she knew that was both futile, and possibly dangerous. Greg's moods had grown darker over the past few years, since the death of her husband, and she worried about what he was becoming. She turned to her daughter to hopefully get a more light-hearted response, and spent the rest of dinner talking to her.

Not that Greg minded. His thoughts were focused on his success of the day, and what he should try next. It's got to be something better than a cheesy falling tile. Maybe messing with one of the teachers. Anyway, it's got to be at least interesting to watch. Today's was a good first run, I guess, but it was boring!

Greg vowed that whatever he did the next day, it wouldn't be boring.

-----

Greg sat alone at lunch the next day, mulling over his thoughts. He was startled when one of the other teens confronted him.

"I know what you did, Greg. Loni told me about it. Knock it the fuck off, or I'm turning you in."

Greg's anger ignited immediately. He reached up and backhanded the boy, with a little help from his telekinesis. The boy staggered backward and tripped, landing on his ass. Greg got up and came around the table, then leaned down to get as close to the boy's face as he could.

"If you speak to me, or anyone else, about this ever again, you sorry little sack of pig shit, little Loni won't just be sucking me off. I'll fuck her in the ass with your severed dick, you got that, fucknuts?" Greg hissed, so that no teacher would hear him.

The boy went pale, and nodded in terror.

"Get the fuck out of my sight," Greg said dismissively, and walked back to his seat. As the boy scurried away, Greg fumed. He hated being challenged. The boy would pay for his insolence, but not here in the lunch room.

But Greg needed a release. He had decided what to do, but hadn't found a suitable target yet. Suddenly, he saw the principal, sitting with another teacher. Ostensibly they were there to watch over the kids, but they had to eat, too. And the principal had a can of soda.

Motherfucker can afford soda? How much money is he stealing from the school? Soda was a luxury item, and it was rarely found at school, which was why Greg had decided to go after someone who had it. The fact that it was the principal only made it sweeter.

Greg checked carefully that the principal's soda was not yet opened, and it wasn't. Greg concentrated, and lifted the soda off the table by the smallest fraction of an inch. He then began to shake the can, as rapidly as he could, but in miniscule movements. Even with his psionically enhanced sight, the words on the can began to blur as the can shook faster and faster.

Finally, after a solid twenty seconds, Greg set the soda can back down. Now to wait, and watch the fun.

It didn't take long for the administrator to reach for his cold drink. Unaware of what had been done, he slipped his finger under the tab and flicked. Immediately, a fountain of ice cold soda erupted out the top of the can, spraying not just the principal, but also the teacher with him.

Kids erupted in laughter, seeing the principal and teacher drenched. The principal looked puzzled, angry, and dismayed, all at the same time. The two adults left the room. Greg wondered idly if they had spare clothes at school, or if the two would have to go home to get a change. He thoroughly enjoyed his lunch after that.

Once lunch was over, he made his way to a specific hallway and waited, watching the other kids make their way to class. It wasn't long before young Loni passed by. Greg simply reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her along until he came to an unused classroom. He pulled her inside and locked the door behind him.

Loni looked resigned to her fate, and was already sinking to her knees, when Greg grabbed her and pulled her back up to her feet.

"I told you not to tell anyone," Greg said matter-of-factly. "You have to be punished for your disobedience. Turn around."

Shakily, Loni turned around. Greg then reached around her and, almost in one move, unfastened her pants and yanked them and her panties down her hips until they fell to the floor. Loni let out a small squeak, but knew what would happen if she truly yelled. When she heard Greg's zipper, she knew what was coming, and just hoped she would survive it.

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

Greg leaned against the wall and watched the cattle go by. At least, that's how he thought of his fellow students. His newfound abilities only increased his opinion of his own superiority. He enjoyed knowing that he could do pretty much anything he wanted now, and get away with it.

Suddenly, he saw Loni's boyfriend, Jared, walking down the hall. At first, a slow smile crept across Greg's face, remembering the hour he had spent with Loni the day before. Then, he remembered that it was really Jared who had challenged him, and he still needed to be punished.

Greg thought to himself quickly about what to do, and the fact that Jared was approaching the stairs down to the basement gave him an idea. Concentrating on Jared, Greg thought out <Dizziness.> He kept repeating it over and over, focusing solely on Jared.

Finally, Greg saw Jared start to stagger slightly. He was walking as if he were drunk. Greg smiled, but kept thinking the thought, over and over, making Jared even dizzier. Finally, as Jared reached the top of the stairwell, Greg increased the strength of his command to Jared. Jared stumbled, and then tripped over his own feet. There was no longer a wall to hold him up, since he was at the top of the stairs, and down he went, tumbling head over heels, bouncing off the concrete steps.

Slowly, Greg worked his way through the crowd, to see Jared lying at the bottom of the stairs, his limbs not looking quite right, and a gash on the side of his head.

As he turned away, Greg grinned to himself and thought, That will teach the little mother fucker to mind his own business...

-----

Greg was bored. He was sitting in Algebra class, which he had never found particularly fascinating. They were reviewing, which he found even less so.

Once his thoughts began to wander, Greg came back to the topic he'd been pondering for weeks now: his Ability.

I know that I can make people do exactly what I want them to, if I give them an order... but what else can I do? Can I make them believe something that isn't true? Is that possible? Could I maybe make someone see something that isn't there?

Well... only one way to find out, right? And it's not like it will get me into trouble whether it works or not... But who to try it on?

Greg looked around the room, searching for a suitable target. Finally, his eyes settled on Wallace, a smart but utterly unimaginative black kid.

Focusing his thoughts, Greg tried not to look directly at Wallace. He kept track of his target out of the corner of his eye, instead. He concentrated as hard as he could, hoping that there would be a reaction.

-----

What the heck is going on? Wallace thought to himself. He was quite certain that Mr. Grushka had been fully clean-shaven when he'd come into class today. Now, Wallace saw sideburns appear on his teacher's face.

Wallace sat back as he continued to watch his teacher's face change. First, Mr. Grushka's sideburns grew further down, until they reached his jaw line. Once they had reached the jaw, the hair moved forward, popping like magic out of the teacher's skin. It wasn't long before Mr. Grushka was sporting a full fledged beard, albeit a short one.

When Wallace saw Mr. Grushka's eyebrows grow fuller, and a moustache appear, he shook his head in bewilderment. Only then did he notice the hair growing out of the back of his teacher's hands.

Wallace looked around in a panic, to see if the other kids were noticing the changes in their teacher, which to Wallace were so evident as to be undeniable. No one else seemed to take any interest in either the changes, or Wallace's reaction to them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It's just me being tired. There's not really anything there.

By the time Wallace opened his eyes, Mr. Grushka's face was fully furred, as were the back of his hands. He didn't quite look like Chewbacca, but it was close. Then, Wallace dropped his pencil. He stared in fear as he saw Mr. Grushka's face begin to lengthen, his nose and mouth beginning to join into something that resembled a muzzle, rather than a human face.

Oh, shit! He's a fucking werewolf! Wallace screamed to himself. Mr. Grushka's transformation was almost complete when he finally noted Wallace's reaction.

"Grrrarowfrrrgrooorrrr," Wallace heard. What Mr. Grushka actually said was, "Wallace, are you all right?"

Wallace was shaking now. As Mr. Grushka approached him, concerned about his student, Wallace bolted from his chair, screaming. He was sure the werewolf was about to attack him.

The other students in the class looked at each other in befuddlement. Wallace was not known to be 'weird', and his behavior certainly fell into that category. The muttering grew until Mr. Grushka called the class to order. Shaking his own head, Mr. Grushka tried to return to the review of Algebra.

-----

COOL! Greg thought to himself. He had been able to completely convince Wallace that his teacher had transformed into a werewolf. Greg had to keep his smile restrained, since everyone else was confused, and it would be noticed if he was laughing instead.

Damn, what can't I do with these powers?

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

"C'mon, Greg, get out of the fucking bathroom!" Donna called out, irritated that her brother was going to make her late for school.

Greg opened the door, fresh from his shower, and completely nude, standing in front of her.

Donna quickly averted her gaze to look past him. "Crap, can't you ever put clothes on? You are so disgusting!" She pushed past him into the bathroom. As she did, Greg reached out with his telekinesis and smacked her on the ass.

Figuring it was just his hand, Donna cried out, "Ow! You fucking asshole!" She slammed the door shut in his face.

Stupid bitch had better watch herself, or I might get annoyed. Nice ass, though.

-----

Greg stifled a yawn. The only excitement he'd had all day was to find out that Wallace had been committed to a mental institution some two hundred miles away, to resolve his hallucinatory episodes.

Let them try to figure that shit out, he thought to himself. Especially when he doesn't have another episode, ever. Well, unless I get hold of him again... Hey, I wonder if I can reach him this far away...

After several minutes of trying - while ignoring his History lesson - Greg gave up. He simply had no way to grasp a mind at that distance.

Shit. Well, let's try something else, then. But what? I don't want to push my luck too far in public. It's not like I can have Kylie strip or something. Though that would be pretty hot.

Maybe I should work more on my telekinesis. It seems like that's more useful. At least, right now it seems to be. The mental stuff might be more useful later, when I get better at it. So, anyway, what should I try? I know I can lift heavy stuff, and I can lift light stuff... but you know, I think maybe my dexterity with it needs some practice. I don't really have any fine control over things.

So... what do I do to fix that?

After several more minutes of consideration, Greg got an idea. There was an overweight kid in the class, her name was Tammy. She was sitting two rows away from him, and her appearance disgusted him. He thought it was time to play his own particular brand of practical joke on her.

Greg lowered his gaze, as if to look at his History book, but what he was really doing was visualizing. His extension snaked out from his body and slithered across the floor. When it reached Tammy's desk, he made damned sure not to touch her. He didn't want her to get suspicious, plus the thought of touching her grossed him out.

Forming his extension into the right shape, he inserted it into one of the screws in her desk. He tried to twist, but his extension merely twisted around itself.

How the hell do I fix that? he wondered. After a few more thoughts, he decided to see if he could imagine his extension as a rigid bar, with the cross tip at the end. It was as if his extension had really become a screwdriver.

It was several strenuous tries later before the screw turned at all. Once it did, however, it was merely a matter of keeping up the pressure until it was loose. Greg left the screw in just far enough to hold it in place, while he set to work on the other screws in the desk.

When Greg was about three-quarters the way through with his task, he could sense the desk beginning to creak. He quickly removed a few of the loosened screws, in strategic places. Apparently, Tammy heard or felt the desk's creaking, as well, because she shifted herself in the chair.

At that precise moment, one of the chair's supports gave out, its screw missing, it simply could not hold up under the strain. The desk collapsed, and Tammy spilled to the floor. Everyone in the room was laughing, and Tammy was mortified. She picked herself up from the floor and ran from the room, sobbing.

Greg sat back, amused by his little stunt, but also impressed with himself, that he'd been able to figure out how to do something so precise as to remove screws from over eight feet away.

Damn I'm good.

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

"I told you that greatness awaited you," the presence said.

"It is fucking cool," Greg agreed. "I'm just wondering where my limits are."

"The power of life and death is yours to grasp," the silky voice replied. "You are the ultimate authority."

"You mean, kill someone? Damn, that's a pretty big step... I'm not sure I’m ready to cross that line yet."

"Perhaps you already have..." the voice suggested. At that, the world around them dimmed, and Greg found himself in something like a normal dream, only it was more memory than dream.

Greg was a younger child, eight years old. He remembered the day vividly. He was sitting on a chair in his father's garage.

"Now, you'll sit there until you can learn to behave and treat your sister fairly."

"She's a tattle-tale and a brat!" he heard himself reply.

"It doesn't matter what she is, Greg. You're the one that hit first. Now you just sit there and let me get this work done."

Greg sat, sulking, watching his father attempt to rebuild an old electrical generator. They were hoping to use it as a backup for when the electric service went out, which was about three times a week. Greg was angry at the world, and most especially angry at his father for siding with his sister.

Greg's eyes wandered around the room as his anger festered. When he looked up, he saw the extension ladder tied in place among the joists. He thought to himself that if one end swung down, his dad would get a good klonk on the head. He imagined it happening, as clear as day.

Suddenly, just as he finished visualizing, it seemed that the knot on one end of the ladder came loose. Almost in slow motion, Greg watched as the ladder swung down from its place, hurtling toward his father.

When the ladder struck his father in the back of the head, it was traveling with enough speed that it snapped his father's neck instantly. The man collapsed to the ground as if his strings were cut, and Greg never spoke to his father again...

"You mean I did that?" Greg asked in shock, once the image had faded and the chasm-world had returned.

"You might also remember, it was the first day we spoke," the voice replied in answer. "You are the judge and jury. And you have already been the executioner."

-----

Greg bolted upright in bed. I killed Dad. Long minutes of non-thought passed through Greg's mind, and then a slow, evil smile spread across his lips. If I did that to my Dad, what the fuck does it matter what I do to anyone else?

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

Greg walked through school several days later, feeling almost as if he was floating above everyone else. While the others around him had scarcely been people to him before, now they were only objects, to do with as he pleased and tossed away when he was finished. Any semblance of a conscience he'd had, had died when he'd found out what he'd done to his father.

It was lunch time, and he slowly made his way to the cafeteria, just watching the "things" called people move around him. As he neared the lunch room, a shoving match broke out between two toughs.

Greg didn't like either of these kids; they were competition for his status as biggest badass in the school. He sent a mental command to one of them to escalate the fight, and soon punches were thrown.

"All right, break it up, you two!" the principal shouted as he came down the hall. All the other kids scattered, but Greg watched from a discreet distance.

Another command to the same kid had him swinging on the principal. The administrator was hardly ready for a student to take a swing at him, and when it connected, the principal crumpled to the ground, stunned into inaction.

The two toughs resumed their fight, and Greg enjoyed the show until it looked like one was getting too much of an upper hand, which meant the fight would be over soon. To the boy that was losing, Greg sent the command, <Punch him with all the strength you have left.>

The boy pulled his arm back, and then let his fist fly with every ounce of strength he could muster. The boy could not know that, timed perfectly with his punch, Greg's extension was also now moving toward the target. When the two forces connected with the other boy's face, the combined strength first broke the boy's cheek bone, but it twisted his head so violently that the neck broke with a loud snap!

Instantly, the boy collapsed, dead where he stood. The sight of the boy galvanized the principal into action, who crawled over to the body, and then looked up at the other boy.

"What the hell did you do? He's dead!"

The other boy, suddenly terrified of the consequences of what he thought were his actions, bolted for the door. Greg, still unnoticed by the principal, made his way around a corner and then took a deep breath.

So, my first murder. No, my second one. This was just the first one I was fully aware of at the time.

Doesn't feel like much. But then, you don't laugh or cry when you step on an ant.

Greg counted to fifty, and then stepped back around the corner. The principal had not moved. The boy, of course, would never move again. Greg simply strode by the two where they lay, and made his way into the lunch room.

~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~~≈≡≈~~

"Greg, could you please take this box of clothes up to the attic for me? It's the winter stuff, and we need to get it out of the way."

"Fine," Greg replied, irritated to have to deal with such mundane tasks.

"Thanks. I'm going to go take a shower, so please don't run any water."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Okay, Sweetie. Thanks."

Greg sighed heavily as he looked at the box of clothes. He considered carrying it the normal way for all of three seconds before saying to hell with that. He grabbed the box with his extension, and he lifted it into the air. He let it trail behind him as he trudged up the attic stairs. He let the box thump down into place in an empty spot, and turned to go.

Before he did, though, he changed his mind. He hadn't been up in the attic in a while, and he wondered if there was anything at all interesting up here. He was bored, and just needed something to do. It had been several weeks since he'd killed the boy at school. He'd killed two other people since, and the thrill of it was fading. It just wasn't at all challenging.

Well, let's see if there's anything worth my time up here.

Most of what was in the attic was complete crap. It was full of old broken or forgotten items that no one wanted, or else they wouldn't be in the attic. He found one box carefully taped shut, which he didn't think twice about opening. Inside, he found the box crammed full of some magazine called "Hustler". After a few glances, which lingered on some pages, he decided the collection must have been his father's, and he put them away. He would study them later, of course, but just now he wanted to finish his exploration of the attic.

In a dark corner of the attic, Greg found a small trunk. He opened it to find it full of old formal clothes. A closer inspection showed one of them to be his mother's wedding dress, though it looked ready to fall apart, now.

Buried inside the trunk was a lockbox. The difficulty here was that it was actually locked.

Wonder what's inside this? I suppose I could just pry it open... but no, let's see if I can use my TK to pick the lock.

Greg knew how to pick a lock in only the very vaguest of terms. He wormed his way inside the lock, trying to feel his way along. He knew that inside the lock were pins, and that the key would raise certain pins, but not raise others, so that the lock would turn and then open. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to tell which pins to raise.

After fifteen minutes, Greg was beginning to grow frustrated. He simply couldn't seem to get the lock to turn. It really annoyed him when he couldn't work things out, and finally he had enough.

"Fuck it!" he grumbled, and he took the box into his psionic grasp, and ripped the lid right off it. Papers tumbled out.

"Aw, shit. All that was in there was a bunch of fucking paper? Crap."

After a second of fuming, Greg decided that anything sealed in a box that tightly had to be in some way important, so he decided to take a closer look at the paperwork. He heard the shower stop just as he picked up the first sheet, which turned out to be Donna's birth certificate.

That's not worth locking up, Greg said to himself. He tossed it aside. Then he picked up the next group of papers, which were all stapled together. Greg read the title of the forms.

What the fuck? Greg's blood boiled as the word "adoption" blazed from the papers into his brain. I'm not even really their kid? And they never fucking told me? What kind of bullshit is this? She is going to pay for this!

Greg bolted for the attic stairs.

-----

Helen Parson was still nude, having just finished drying herself off. She was just reaching for her panties when the bedroom door burst open. She was shocked to see her son storming toward her, an angry look on his face and some kind of paper in his hand.

"What the fuck is this shit!" Greg screamed, waving the paper at her. Helen still couldn't see what it was.

"What is what, Honey?" she asked, trying to calm him down.

Greg was way past the point of being able to be calmed down. He hadn't even taken much notice of the fact that his mother was completely naked. He used his forearm to push her back against the wall, as he would one of his classmates. Helen was somewhat taller than her thirteen-year-old son, however, which meant that, instead of going across her collarbone as his forearm normally would have, it went across her tits. His left hand landed squarely on her left tit, while his elbow mashed her right breast flat. Helen was actually having some trouble breathing now.

"What is this!" Greg screamed, holding the paper inches from her face. It took her a long moment just to focus on it. When she read the words, she went pale.

"You weren't supposed to find those," she said quietly. She couldn't look her son in the eyes now.

"No fucking shit!" he yelled. In his anger, his hand squeezed her tit so hard it made her wince in pain. His fingers were like a claw. "Locked in the deepest, darkest corner of the attic, buried under a pile of clothes in a rotting trunk! I just guess I wasn't supposed to find it! What the hell!"

Helen closed her eyes. "Yes, Greg. You were adopted. We didn't want to tell you because we thought you'd get upset."

"Upset? Why would I fucking get upset? Just because some assholes threw me away like yesterday's garbage? And you! You couldn't even be bothered to have me the old-fashioned way, by fucking! No, you had to get me out of some baby-o-matic vending service!"

Helen seized on this opportunity to hopefully talk some sense into her son. "Greg, no... when we adopted you, it wasn't like it is now. You couldn't just walk in and buy a baby, it was diff-AAHHH!"

Helen screamed because her son suddenly, and viciously, twisted her nipple. "Don't give me any of your fucking double-talk! You couldn't even be bothered to birth me!"

"Greg, I can't have kids anymore. That's why we adopted!"

"Don't give me any bullshit! You had that bitch of a sister just fine!" Greg twisted both nipples now, using his body weight to hold her against the wall.

Helen screamed in pain. Her nipples were on fire. "Please, Greg! Stop! I can't have any more kids now! My pregnancy with Donna went very badly! Ow, Honey, please! After she was born, I had a complete hysterectomy! I can't have kids!"

At that, Greg stopped twisting her nipples, but he didn't let her up. He was still holding her against the wall, now his hands were resting on her breasts, holding her in place. His face was tormented and angry. Finally, he spoke.

"Who are my real parents?" he asked, a low, grumbling tone to his voice.

"I'm your real mother, Greg," Helen said. "I'm the mother who raised you from a baby. I'm the one who-"

"Shut up!" Greg yelled. He reached down and shoved his hand between his mother's legs. He was taking full advantage of her nudity. He grabbed her clit between his fingers and pinched, hard.

Helen shrieked in pain. She was bathed in a cold sweat.

"Who are my real parents?" Greg demanded to know.

"Your mother died in childbirth," Helen gasped out through the pain. "Your father was too distraught to raise you! He knew it was better for you to have a good, solid home than - AAAAH, please let me go!"

Greg was actually twisting her clit now. He stopped that, and then hooked one finger into her pussy. He then used his thumb to press down on her clit just as hard as he could.

"I'm only going to ask you just one more time, who are my parents!!"

Through gritted teeth, Helen cried out, "Ron Chaffey! Your father is Ron Chaffey!"

Greg was so stunned, his hand dropped free from his mother's pussy. His other one remained in place on her tit, however.

"The Ron Chaffey?" he asked.

Helen was now gasping for air, trying to recover from the intense pain she had just been in. "Yes, the leader of the PPA. He's your father. Your mother was one of his... wives, or girlfriends, or whatever. I don't know her name, but she died when you were born."

Helen enjoyed the respite while her son digested this information. She knew that she was in trouble when his gaze darkened. His next question was the one she feared most.

"Where is he?" Greg asked. She could see the rage seething beneath the surface.

"I don't know," she replied honestly.

Greg slapped her, hard, across the face. "Don't lie to me, bitch! Where is he!"

"I really don't know, Honey!" she cried.

"If you don't tell me, the next thing I do to you is gonna hurt worse than anything I've done so far!"

"I don't know!" she screamed.

"All right, you fucking bitch, play it your way!" Greg grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the bed. He shoved her down onto it face-first, and then climbed on after her. He pulled her up until she was on her knees, but her face was still buried in the blanket.

Greg undid his pants, and pulled his dick free. He had been hard for a long time just from overpowering his mother the way he had. He put the head of his dick to her ass, and didn't bother giving her any chance to get ready. He put his full weight behind his thrust.

Helen's scream ripped from her throat. Only the covers muffled it somewhat, or it would have been extremely painful in the small bedroom.

"Oh, Jesus, please, Honey, stop! I don't know! I honestly don't know! Oh, God, someone help me! Greg, Sweetie, Stop! Oh, ffffffffuck!"

Greg was surprised to hear his mother curse, but he didn't exactly care, either. He shoved himself all the way into her without slowing down or stopping.

"You want me to do it again?" he demanded. "Tell me!"

"I don't goddamned know!" she sobbed through her tears of pain.

Greg had to pause then. He knew that he'd reached his mother's pain threshold; she wasn't able to take more pain willingly, so she wasn't hiding any information anymore.

The trouble for Greg now was that he was horny as all hell from shoving his dick up a very tight hole.

Greg pulled out of his mother, and he saw the shit on his dick. He grinned at that.

"Okay, fine. You don't know. I'll have to find that out some other way. But right now, you're gonna be my slut."

Just as he was about to put his dick to her pussy, Helen slithered away from him. "No, please don't put that in me, Greg! It's dirty, and it'll give me an infection and make me very sick! If you're going to do that, please clean it off first." She had resigned herself to whatever her son was going to do to her at this point.

Greg glared at his mother for moving away from him, but her words gave him an evil idea. "Fine, you want it cleaned off?" He reached forward and grabbed her hair, forcing her head into his crotch. "Do it with your mouth!"

Helen was so shocked by his actions and words that she didn't have time to close her mouth before Greg had shoved his fully-erect cock into it. She immediately tasted the foulness, and nearly gagged. Greg continued to shove his prick into her mouth until it reached the back of her throat, then he started to fuck her face with his dick.

"Make sure it's good and clean, Mom, 'cause I'm still gonna fuck you with it afterward."

Helen felt her gorge rising, but she fought it down as she licked his cock clean. She didn't want to get an infection; she couldn't afford the time off work.

Once Greg felt she'd had enough time to clean him up, he pulled out of her. Immediately, Helen rolled over to the side of the bed, leaned over the edge, and threw up. She retched until there was nothing more to come out.

When she rolled onto her back, her son was right there. "Clean enough for you, bitch?" he asked.

Helen just nodded weakly, still dizzy from the vomiting. She was fully aware when Greg slid his dick into her pussy, though. Out of instinct, she wrapped her legs around his waist, to hold him in place. This was how her husband liked to fuck her.

Greg sneered at her, and began to ram his cock deep into her cunt. Helen grunted with each thrust, her body sore and aching from the mistreatment it had received. She hoped that it wouldn't last much longer.

Greg's thrusts rocked Helen's body, and he was groaning with the strain of holding in his climax. He was enjoying the sheer nastiness of fucking his mother, and didn't want it to end just yet. Finally, though, he realized he'd reach the point of no return. He had to either stop, or go for it, and he wasn't about to stop. He sped up even more, and in just a few more seconds, his cum exploded from his cock, filling up his mother's twat with his seed.

For long moments, Greg spasmed above his mother, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Once he was finished, he opened his eyes, and looked down at her. Helen flinched at the hatred she saw there.

"I want to thank you, Mother Dear, for what you have done," Greg said in a sweet voice that didn't fool her in the least. He placed his hands ever so gently on either side of her head. While his dick was still buried inside her cunt, Greg said, "Thank you for lying to me all these years." With that, he twisted his hands viciously, instantly snapping Helen's neck.

Only then did he pull his cock from inside her.

-----

Greg had spent his time profitably, and by the time that Donna returned from her part-time job, he was ready for her. He heard her come in the front door.

"Mom, I'm home!" she called out, as usual. He sensed, rather than heard, her pause to wait for a response, which was not forthcoming. Donna shrugged; it was not unheard of for her mother to go out for the evening. She walked back to her bedroom to change.

When she turned the light on in her bedroom, Greg smiled at her. He was sitting on the edge of her bed.

"What the hell do you want, jerk?" she said with a snarl. She was two years older than him, but she was no bigger than he was. She didn't like the way he was staring at her. He could tell. "Why are you in my room? Where's Mom?" Donna's voice quivered slightly on that last question.

"Gone," was all Greg said in reply as he stood up.

"What do you mean, gone? What did you do to Mom?" she demanded as he approached her.

Greg reached out like a flash and grabbed Donna's wrist. "I think you should be far more worried about what I'm going to do to you."

Greg turned and, using his extension, threw Donna on the bed. She landed on her back, and he was on her faster than she could react. He grabbed one wrist and slipped it through a loop of fabric, which quickly tightened on her wrist so that she could not get it off. She saw that it had already been tied to the headboard of her bed. As she was realizing this, Greg already had her other wrist bound in a similar fashion.

Greg was much more cautious about her feet; he knew she could kick hard. He actually used his extension to grab her ankle, and then he looped the fabric over it and pulled it tight. A few more seconds, and her other foot was tied off, as well. Now his sister was tied down to her bed, but she still had a lot of motion, because he had left extra length, rather than end up with restraints that were too short for his victim.

Starting at the feet, Greg set about remedying the problem. He adjusted each of the ties so that Donna's movement was limited to little more than a few inches in both legs. Meanwhile, she was cursing him and ordering him to let her go.

"Shut up," he finally said to her, and slapped her hard across the face. He enjoyed watching the redness spread across her cheek. He reveled in the tears in her eyes.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"You'll find out soon enough," he replied. "But you're wearing far too many clothes for me to do it properly."

Greg reached out and took hold of Donna's blouse and pulled it open, popping buttons off all over the place. He knew that he had no hope of actually tearing the fabric, homemade shirt or not. The bra beneath the blouse was a similarly lost cause to his physical strength.

Luckily for him, physical strength wasn't the only thing he had going for him. He reached out with his extension and ripped the blouse from his sister's body. Donna recognized that her brother hadn't moved.

As he was forcibly tearing her bra off with his powers, she said, "You're one of them, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am," he replied matter-of-factly. He reached down with his hand and unfastened her jeans, then used his extension to rip them to shreds. Now he was looking down at just her panties, and he reached out and caressed them.

"Please, Greg... don't do this."

"Stop being such a fucking crybaby," he replied. He took hold of her panties and ripped them off using both his hands and his ability. He gazed upon his sister's pussy for the first time, and enjoyed the sight of it. It was nearly hairless, and he could see her perfect pink lips just waiting to caress his cock.

Greg put his hand on Donna's belly, and first ran it up to cup one of her breasts. They were ample, for her age, and he enjoyed tweaking her nipple and watching her face contort. He knew she was trying to fight the pleasure that her body was feeling, and it amused him to watch the struggle. He wondered just which side would win.

After several minutes of running his hands back and forth over her tits, Greg moved his hand down to rest between Donna's legs. He let his finger slide over her clit, and he saw her jump. He smiled at that, and then slipped his finger down to her pussy, and tried to slide it in, but -

"You're still a virgin?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes! And I want to stay that way until I get married! Let me go!"

Greg chuckled. "Oh, no. We can't have that. Haven't you heard? Virginity is a sin."

Greg leaned down and flicked his tongue over Donna's clit. Donna squealed in spite of herself, and her hips rolled up at him. He continued to work over her clit, and Donna grew more and more aroused. She was ashamed of herself for it, but simply could not help reacting.

After a while, Greg moved his mouth from her clit up her body. He kissed her skin along the way until he reached her tits. Once there, he found a nipple and sucked it between his lips. His tongue wiggled across the little nubbin as he undressed himself and climbed onto the bed. Donna had closed her eyes long before, and she didn't really notice his actions.

Greg switched to her other nipple, and Donna sighed involuntarily. At that very moment, Greg lined up his dick and thrust as hard as he could. His cock head speared her maidenhead, tearing it painfully. Donna screamed out her agony.

"Oh, God, Greg, you didn't! Oh, fuck this hurts! Shit!"

Greg did not stop and wait for her pain to ease, but instead set about fucking her with a fast rhythm. He pounded her pussy hard, and she was soon crying out in discomfort. He reached down and mauled her tits, fucking her for all he was worth.

Donna was crying now, both from the pain, and the shame she felt. Greg looked down at her and could not help himself.

"Don't worry about it, Donna. You belong to me now. I'm the only guy you're ever going to fuck, anyway, so it's not important."

Donna looked up at him in total despair. He had just claimed her as property, and she knew that she had no way to fight him.

"Just lie back and enjoy it," he said, grunting as he thrust into her repeatedly.

Donna did just that, doing what she could to make the best of a horrible situation. It galled her that her body was actually reacting, and that she could feel herself becoming aroused. Her pussy was already wet, and the initial pain was beginning to subside, she noted thankfully.

Greg also noted that she was no longer uncomfortable. With his extension, he reached out and untied her hands and feet. He knew she didn't have the strength to fight him off at this point. He pulled out of her, and then slid up her body. He stopped for a moment to run his dick back and forth across her tits, but then he slid up further.

"You're going to suck me off now. If you even think about trying to hurt me, you will regret it big time. Got it?" Donna nodded fearfully, and then Greg pressed his dick to her lips. She grudgingly allowed the intruder into her mouth. Greg used her mouth as just another hole, sliding his dick in and out of it while she kept a tight seal. She could feel him tensing, and she knew he was about to come in her mouth. She had never tasted cum before, and she hoped it didn't make her sick.

A few seconds more, and Greg spewed a load of jism deep into her mouth. After he was done spurting, she swallowed, and then he pulled out of her mouth.

Greg rolled to the side, grabbing Donna to make sure she didn't try to do something foolish like leave. He played with her body, as he knew this would arouse him quickly. He reached down between her legs and plunged his fingers deep into her pussy. When he pulled them out and looked at them, he could see the stain of blood.

"Ooh, look at that. You bled a lot!" Donna closed her eyes and turned her head, but she felt Greg press something to her lips. "Suck it off," he ordered. Donna opened her mouth, and felt his fingers enter. She sucked on them, cleaning off her juices, and her blood, from them.

It was only a couple minutes before Greg was hard again, and Donna felt his cock poking her in the ass. She waited in dread for whatever he planned to do next; she knew that fighting a psionic was absolutely pointless.

Greg rolled her onto her belly, and then pulled her up onto her hands and knees. Once she was positioned how he wanted her, he slid his dick back into her cunt and started to stroke again. Donna felt her heat rising as his thrusts rubbed against her G-spot. She groaned in frustration when he stopped and pulled out of her.

"Oh, liking that, were we? Well, this isn't about what you like."

With that, Greg pushed her back down onto the bed, but he kept her legs spread apart. Then, he pressed the head of his now-well-lubed dick to her rosebud.

"Oh, God, no!" she pleaded.

"Oh, yeah," he replied with a sneer, and then pressed into her. He used his bodyweight to force his dick into her ass, but not nearly as harshly as he had into his mother. Donna was still intensely uncomfortable, however, and she pleaded with him several times to stop.

Once Greg was buried to the hilt in her ass, he did stop. He looked down at her, and then used his extension to caress her ass cheeks.

"Relax, you'll enjoy it more," he said, and then started to slide out a little. He started a series of short but quick thrusts that had Donna bouncing on the bed. Her squeaks of pain were actually starting to turn into moans of pleasure. Greg wasn't quite ready for her to be enjoying herself, though. He thrust into her harder and deeper a few times, returning her to that state of pain and discomfort, then he slowed, and pulled out of her ass.

Donna wasn't sure if she was frustrated because he'd stopped, or grateful beyond belief. When he rolled her over, she couldn't read his expression. She didn't stop him as he put his dick to her pussy and pressed in again. He set up a much faster pace in her pussy, and her heat began to rise quickly, her passion climbing toward ecstasy.

Greg knew exactly how close his sister was to coming. He worked his hips and shoved his cock deeper and deeper into her, then he looked down into her eyes, which were somewhat glazed.

"I do have a problem," he told her. He saw her register that he was speaking, but she was too far gone to answer him. "You belong to me, but I can't take you with me where I'm going."

Donna nodded, but he wasn't sure she comprehended the situation. Which was perfectly fine with him.

"Come for me, Donna. Come on your little brother's cock."

Greg leaned down and did something he hadn't done with either Helen or Donna before: he kissed her. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, letting his tongue tango with hers.

At that very moment, Donna's orgasm washed over her. Her body shuddered and bucked beneath her brother.

At the very height of her orgasm, Greg wrapped his psionic extension around her neck and squeezed tightly. He squeezed until there was no chance that she could ever breath again. He broke their kiss at that point, and watched as the life drifted out of her, her face forever frozen in a mix of agony and ecstasy.

Greg pulled his still-hard dick from her body, and then, kneeling over her, he jacked himself off. He blew his load all over his dead sister's tits.

As he climbed off the bed, he looked back at his sister and said, "Sorry to just come and go, Sis, but I have to go kill my father."

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