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Message-ID: <46323asstr$1074636611@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "nilanthos" <nilanthos@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Pure Telekinesis, Chapter 1 (tk, nosex)
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Date: Tue, 20 Jan 2004 17:10:11 -0500
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



This story is for adults only. It contains adult
material. If you are not of legal age to read adult
stories in your area or if you are offended by adult
material, please leave now. If you continue you do so
at your own risk.


This is my first attempt at an erotic story, even
though I've been writing for myself for years, and am
an avid reader, of both novels and the erotic works
available on the 'net :).  But there is something I
haven't yet been able to find in the erotic community,
or even in the more socially conventional novels that
line my shelves, a story about someone with amazing
telekinetic power, but no telepathic abilities.  In all
of the stories I have found, even those that have
telekinesis, the main character or characters simply
use telepathy to gloss over any event they don't want
those around them to remember.  Even the great ones,
"The Book" series by Blackie and "Tim, the Teenaged MC"
by Rass Senip, show how psychics, even though they may
run afoul of other psychics or interested government
agencies, can pretty much get by with whatever they
want because they can control the thoughts of those
around them.  An idea grew in me, wondering what would
happen if someone had superhuman powers, but could
*not* control the thoughts or memories of those around
them.  Telekinesis without telepathy.  This work is my
attempt to discover what would happen in such a case,
what the person so gifted would have to do in order to
protect themselves, and what all they could get away
with <g>.  I only hope it is a fraction as interesting
as Blackie and Rass Senip's works.  Comments are
cheerfully encouraged, flames will be completely
ignored.  I have seen it often enough, and now I am on
the spot, I have to admit that feedback will be the
only reason I am posting this.  I want to know what you
think, what you'd like to see, everything and anything,
ok people?


-------------------------------------------------------


Pure Telekinesis
by: Nilanthos (nilanthos@hotmail.com)
(c) 2004


Chapter 1 : What the hell is going on? (tk, nosex)

David stared out the window at the trees blurring by
and let out a small, almost soundless sigh.  He closed
his eyes and let his head fall forward to rest his
forehead against the cool glass.

"Are you sure you're up to this, Davey?" a throaty,
smooth feminine voice said from the driver's seat.  Not
for the first time, David thought that the voice
belonged as a star on those phone sex lines you saw
commercials for at two in the morning.

Then he opened his eyes and looked at the hair-lipped
behemoth in the paisley Muumuu driving and smiled
inside, carefully not letting it show.  "Yep," he
thought to himself.  "This is probably what those women
look like too."  Aloud, his voice flat with boredom, he
said, "Aunt Gina.  That is precisely the eighteenth
time you have asked that question with those exact
words, making a total of thirty-six times you've asked
me if I was sure I wanted to go back to school yet."
He looked out the window again as his fingers beat out
a rapid, precise tattoo on the armrest.

"Well?" his aunt slid her beautiful voice into the
quiet again.

David didn't look at her; he just closed his eyes,
sighed quietly, and let his fingers fall in the same
pattern as before.

"Well, Davey?  *Are* you sure you'll be all right?"

David grumbled low in his throat and ran his left hand
up through his hair, stopped at the bandage above his
left ear, traced his forefinger along one edge, and let
his hand fall.  "Look," he slowly drawled out.  "I've
got to go back eventually."  A few heartbeats passed.
Gina opened her cavern of a mouth and David, without
even opening his eyes to glance at her, rode straight
over whatever she was about to say.  "And for the sixth
time I will tell you that I am not going to transfer to
a school in your district.  I'm a Senior this year and
I feel I need to finish where I started."  Silence fell
again, marred only by the hum of the engine and the
buzz of the road.  It lasted for sixteen seconds.  Gina
once again opened her mouth and her nephew rode right
over her, still not bothering to open his eyes.  "Yes,
I know that isn't a rational stance.  But it is my
choice and I would ask you to respect it and stop
trying to badger me into changing my mind."

David opened his eyes and swiveled his head to look at
the mammoth tightly crammed into the space between the
seat at maximum extension and the steering wheel.  Her
mouth was set in a tight, disapproving line and her
eyes flickered off the road every few seconds to glance
at him.  He shook his head slightly and ran his hand
into his hair again, once again stopping to trace the
edge of the bandage.  He briefly wondered if that
slight modification to a habit would remain when the
bandages were long gone and the hair grown back.  He
turned his head to look straight out the windshield,
not really seeing the Cadillac SUV they were behind at
the moment.  He just knew that he wouldn't want to see
her face when he finally said what had been on his mind
for days.

"As long as we are on subjects that upset you anyway,"
David's voice was void, washed free of tone and
emotion, as if he were reciting a rather dull
mathematical formula that had been outdated since
Newton.  "My name is David.  Day-Vid.  Not Dave, not D,
not Davey, not even Dickhead."  His aunt gasped at the
profanity.  "David.  My mother named me David and that
is what I respond to."

He closed his eyes again and brought his right hand up
to hold his upper left arm.

"Well," Aunt Gina huffed.

They drove on in silence.


He took a deep breath as he ran his hand down the steel
door to rest on the handle.  One tug and he would be
back in a social world he never understood all the
rules to, but mostly ignored the ones he did know.  He
had always been noticeably different and it stood him
apart.  And, truth to tell, he liked being different
from the flock, from the cliques, and thus mostly free
from the peer pressure.  His left hand went up into his
hair again but he let it drop before reaching the
bandage.

"Okay," he thought to himself, repeating the near-
mantra that had gotten him through the start of every
day for years.  "You've done this thousands of times.
Just remember it's like being on a stage.  And none of
it matters."

He pulled hard and the door flew open.  His eyes began
quickly scanning the crowd before the door was even
half open.  He was done looking everything over by the
time his foot began moving to take his first footstep
into the school.  This is the first step to being
different and surviving in a world of peer pressure
high enough to detonate a nuclear warhead: know where
everyone is.  As his foot came down he took the second
step: categorize the crowd.
    A ring of three male and one female Freshmen,
    obviously ogling, without looking directly, at
    Debbie Holman, a Senior cheerleader and the girl
    rumored to be the future Homecoming Queen.
    Five girls, some Junior some Senior, giggling as
    one of them flipped her hair.
    A Senior male had his hands to either side of a
    Freshman girl's body, obviously holding her there
    against her will, he eyes darting, looking for
    help.
    One Freshman or perhaps Sophomore male walked
    obviously alone with his shoulders hunched and his
    head ducked down.
    Four Sophomore girls in expensive clothes standing
    close, sneering at a fifth girl of the same age,
    dressed in a black leather jacket and torn jeans,
    opening her locker.
    Three big Seniors in Letterman jackets tossing a
    football back and forth.
    One Junior male standing in front of a barely
    opened locker, holding, almost hidden in his palm,
    a small bag with white powder in it while a
    Freshman girl held an unknown quantity of money
    subtly out toward him.
    A single Senior male stood against a locker, eyes
    darting everywhere and a cruel smirk on one side
    of his lips.
    A Junior male passionately kissing a Junior female
    against a locker.
    Two Sophomore girls passionately kissing not much
    further away.
    And on and on and on....

David's weight started to shift forward to bring his
other foot up as he finished the second step and began
the third: identify hazards to movement between current
location and immediate destination.
    The group of girls was barely a body-width away
    from the passionately kissing girls on one side
    and the drug deal on the other: targets
    identified, bottleneck (intentional), drug
    complications (unintentional).
    The flow of traffic would take him right past the
    Senior with the cruel smile: target identified,
    tripper (intentional).
    The three Letterman wearers with the football,
    using only one arm apiece to catch and throw it,
    their eyes flicking occasionally at the passing
    crowd: target identified, hitters (intentional)
    The future Homecoming Queen preening herself in a
    mirror taped to the inside of her locker door:
    target identified, probable collision hazard
    (unintentional).
    The couple that was half a second ago kissing, now
    talking heatedly, he guy red in the face while the
    girl gestured wildly, missing a Freshman only
    because he was short: target identified, definite
    collision hazard (unintentional).
    The males and female freshmen that had been ogling
    the future Homecoming Queen had stopped suddenly
    as one pulled out a hackey-sack: target
    identified, possible projectile (unintentional).
    The hunched-down guy staring at his shoes and
    shuffling along: target identified, obstacle
    (unintentional).

His second footfall, bringing his body halfway through
the doorway, marked the end of the third step and began
the fourth step: plan the route.
    Geek, bottleneck, tripper, Queen, circle, Jocks,
    bottleneck gossipers (taking the path opposite the
    drug deal.  Traffic would be going against him, but
    as long as he timed it...), then his locker just on
    the other side of them.

He deliberately drug his foot, carefully judging
everything around him and himself as he took the final
step: get the rhythm and full speed at the right
moment.  David had completed this complex series of
considerations and planning so many times that he was
barely conscious of it or his implementation of it.

His foot shot out as he chose his moment and he was
striding down the corridor where everyone else was
struggling just to walk.  He stepped around the geek
quickly, hopping on one foot as the tripper tried to
strike, catching only air under David's foot.  Debbie
Holman slammed her locker shut and swung out into
traffic without looking, David swinging around her like
a top.  The sound of a foot striking a beanbag a little
too hard was barely audible over the crowd, but David
leaned back slightly as the hackey-sack shot by, less
than an inch from his nose.  Unfortunately, this put
him within arms-reach of the jocks.  One large hand
shot out as is to catch an out-of-control ball, never
mind the ball was in the guy's other hand.  David tried
to lean forward again and lengthened his stride
considerably.  The ham-hand came so close to the back
of David's head it ruffled his hair.  David began to
skate around the group of gossiping girls in the middle
of the hall, on the side away from the drug dealer.
His only excuse, he thought to himself a millisecond
later, was that his nagging headache must have been
affecting him worse than he had thought.  He hadn't
timed the oncoming traffic properly and he slammed
full-force into a younger girl, sending her and her
books flying backward.  His reflexes took over and he
leapt forward without even thinking, smacking into
several people's backs as he shot forward and to one
side. As he came even with the young girl's left side,
his right arm reached around her back and his left hand
reached across her to grab her upper right arm.  He
spread his feet, sliding to a stop as he arrested her
fall.

David, taking a long breath through his nostrils to try
to clear his head of panic, lifted the girl back
upright.  "Freshman, long brown hair, hazel eyes behind
glasses, four foot high and maybe a little more, don't
know her but reminds me of someone..."  He had just
enough time for this thought to run through his head
before a voice rang out, "Hey, what the fuck you doin'
to my sis?"

Conversation stopped instantly, and so did the traffic,
as people stepped aside to form a corridor between
David and the speaker.  David let go of the girl, whose
eyes had gone very wide, and made sure she wasn't going
to fall before turning to face the source of the
belligerent voice.  "Ah, FUCK!" he thought to himself
as he saw one of the three jocks standing clear of the
other two, facing him with fists clenched.  "Looks like
I'm gonna have more bandages than the one above my ear
and around my wrist real quick, here.  And I was so
glad to get rid of the others.  Oh, well."  Aloud, his
voice flat, "Keeping her from busting her head wide
open on the ground, James Dean."

One of the remaining two jocks, probably the one who
had tried to hit him, said, "That's MISTER Jimmy D to
you, Davey Weirdo."

One of the girls who had been gossiping and causing the
traffic jam spoke up.  "Hey, we all know what happened
to him so just leave him alone, 'k?"

David didn't even have time to be astonished at one of
the "beautiful people" who he hadn't already made
friends with stick up for him before Jimmy D took a
step toward him and said, "So he's an instant orphan,
just add car wreck."

David felt every muscle in his body tense at once as he
began to feel the burn of real anger for the first time
in years.  Jimmy D took another deliberate step and
continued.  "It still don't give him no right ta knock
my little sis down, just ta cop a feel."

A large hand shot out of the crowd and grabbed Jimmy
D's Letterman jacket.  When the body attached to that
hand emerged from the packed-like-sardines crowd of
teenagers, David heaved a sigh of relief.

"You okay, David?" the new figure, also in a Letterman,
asked without looking away from Jimmy D.

"Yeah, Rick.  Thanks."

Rick nodded and pulled Jimmy D toward him.  Jimmy D
obviously outweighed Rick by about twenty pounds of
pure muscle, and had four inches on him, but Jimmy D
held out his open hands in a gesture of peace.  There
was fear in Jimmy D's eyes as Rick pulled him down
slightly to be face-to-face.  In a loud whisper that
carried well through the dead silent hall, Rick said,
"You wanna mix it with The Man?"

Jimmy D shook his head in quick jerks.  "Then drop it
and fuck off," Rick said quietly and seemed to just let
go of Jimmy D's jacket.  But it sent Jimmy D backwards
to hit the lockers with a clatter.  Rick looked at
David and nodded almost lazily, then walked toward the
two jocks Jimmy D had been standing with.  The one who
hadn't spoken yet said, "Rick The Man!" and Rick
exchanged an elaborate high-five with him.

Traffic started moving again, but much more slowly and
with glances shifting from Jimmy D to David, as if the
people there were wondering if there would be an acts
two to gossip about later.

"You okay," David asked the girl he had nearly knocked
to the ground as he knelt to pick up her books.

"Y-yh-yeah," she almost whispered as she knelt and
began gathering also.

"Sorry about my slammin' into you," David said as he
closed a book and added it to the stack in his other
arm.

She nodded, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it
again, and then, all in a rush, but still in a timid
whisper, said, "Sorry 'bout my brother."

"Hey, James is always like that," David said reasonably
as he stood up with a jumble of books, papers, and
folders.

The girl looked at David, astonished to hear someone
call her brother James deliberately, after being
threatened so obviously, and stood up with a similar
jumble, holding out a tentative hand for the things
David had.  He handed them over and said, "Let me walk
you to your next class, least I could do."

The girl smiled shyly up at him and nodded.  They
turned together to forge through the ever-quickening
sea of humanity.

"Hey, Davey-Weirdo," Jimmy D's voice rang out over the
buzz of conversations that had resumed with the end of
the recent spectacle.  The conversations and the
traffic stopped dead again as every face there turned
to see the act two they had been waiting for.  "You
should try something older than my sis.  *Your* sis was
a good fuck.  So was your Mom.  Too bad they're both
dead!  Either one ever give you a piece?"

David spun in place, face red and twisted horribly in
fury.  "You son of a BITCH!" he screamed.

Rick, looking angry but nothing in comparison to David,
started to turn toward Jimmy D and cocked a fist back.
Before Rick could turn all the way, David felt
something inside his head twitch.

The bottom half of a locker to Jimmy D's right flew
open and the hasp, still sealed with a lock, hit him
right in the balls, hard.  David felt another twitch in
the same place and, as Jimmy D started to bend over,
howling in pain, the top portion of the locker flew
open and hit Jimmy D right in the face.  Jimmy D went
down like he had been pole-axed.

David didn't see Jimmy D fall because his vision had
begun to constrict and fade as he felt his own body
start to fall.  He saw a florescent light as his body
came to a sudden halt, pain flashing on the outside of
his awareness.  Then blackness as he heard a shrill
scream.  To him it sounded like it was right next to
him and miles far away, all at once.


David felt pain, radiating from the top of the hairs on
his head down to the tips of his toenails and back
again.  He thought briefly about never moving again,
but his eyes shot open as he remembered...something.
It had gone as quickly as it had come.  A flash of his
sister's face.

He only saw a light blur, blinked once and
concentrated.  A rectangular florescent light panel
came into focus.  Then he saw the off-white flat panels
with lots of little holes surrounding the florescent
light.  "Oh, yeah, school," he thought vaguely.  "But
I'm laying down."  Suddenly he remembered the hallway
and everything that had happened.  "So where am I," he
thought to himself.  "Nurse's office, probably.  Wonder
who got a sucker punch in on me.  Hmm, whoever it was,
they were good to get that close to me without me
knowing."

His mind was getting clearer quickly, but not quite
fast enough to realize that moving his head might be a
*bad* idea.  He got a brief glimpse of glasses on a
young female face, then slammed his eyes shut to try to
hold in the brains he was sure were leaking out.  A
sweet voice grated across his consciousness.  "Mrs.
Lee, he's awake."

David let out a quiet groan that quickly turned into a
whimper as his own groan reached his ears.

"Can you hear me, David?"  The booming voice impacted
on him like a plane hitting a remote mountainside:
painful to the extreme, but only immediately obvious to
the ones it happened to.

He licked his lips and squeaked out, slowly and
quietly, "No wonder... you're a... school nurse.  With
a... voice like that... anyone... truly ill... would
gladly... go to the hospital.  The... walking
wounded... would go back to class... as soon as they
got... a hold on their crutches."

"Well!" Mrs. Lee practically shrieked.

David whimpered loudly and clapped his hands to his
ears, almost crying as that hurt his head even more.

"Mrs. Lee," the sweet voice, though still painful, was
still almost a balm to his jangling nerves, "he's
probably got a bad headache from the way he's acting.
And you look so busy with my brother and that girl with
the sprained ankle he fell on.  I'll watch David for
you and call if he needs anything."

Mrs. Lee harrumphed, then boomed out, "Is that all
right David?"

"Please," David managed to whimper out, quietly.

Mrs. Lee harrumphed again and stomped off into the
other room, the door closing quietly on hydraulics
behind her.

David tried to open his eyes again to look at the
savior of his head, but only got them open a slit
before realizing he had rolled over to face the wall.
He cleared his throat carefully and whispered, "Thank
you."

A small, cool hand touched his forehead.  "Feels like
your temperature went down," the sweet voice whispered,
not even grating on David and he smiled in relief.

"Who... are you?" he asked, his voice a little louder
than before.

"I'm Ang," she replied, "You going to be okay?"

"Yeah.  Just gotta let this... headache go away and
I'll be... right back in my classroom.  Whatever period
this is."  His voice got stronger and louder as the
pain slowly subsided.  It suddenly occurred to him that
her name didn't bring up a face or reference in his
mind.  "Do I know you?"

The sweet and slightly throaty giggle that floated
lightly on the air reminded David of a younger version
of his aunt's sweet voice and he wracked his brain,
thinking, "Okay, this doesn't match, from the little I
saw she didn't seem overweight.  Huh.  Maybe some good
looking girls get sweet voices too, not that I'm in any
shape to check right now."  aloud he said, "Does that
mean we have met and I should be embarrassed now?"

The giggle sounded again, landing like music now on
David's ears and he decided he'd have to make whoever
it was giggle for him more often, even if she looked
*just* like Aunt Gina.  "Well, if you can't remember
knocking a girl back, risking your own neck to save
her, then almost getting into a fight with her brother,
maybe you should be embarrassed."

David spun over on the cot, regretting it even as he
started, but forcing his eyes to stay open, even if the
pain did flash across his face, to look at her.  His
impression was the same as before, but he took a second
longer to really look at her.  Light brown hair,
perfectly straight all the way down to her mid-back,
large round glasses, unusual for her age where girls
that wore glasses tried to get understated, tasteful
frames, but with sparkling hazel eyes behind them, high
cheek bones, full almost pouting lips, and very, very
pretty, behind those hideous glasses.  David had time
to wonder why she would wear them when she was so
pretty before he realized he was staring and he looked
over to the clock.

The clock revealed to him that it was 3:00, and he knew
school ended at 3:30.  Then he glanced back at the Ang,
who was smiling just barely, shyly, at him.  "Yeah,
school's almost over," she said, her voice returning to
the shy whisper that almost, but not quite, hid the
wonderful, musical tones to her voice David had heard
now that he was looking at her.

"Damn, with a voice like that and looks like that,
she's welcome into my dreams anytime she wants," he
thought to himself.

Ang blushed furiously and David realized he had spoken
his thought aloud.  "Oh, god, I'm sorry," he said as he
felt his own face heat up in embarrassment.  He wanted
to sink right through the floor and closed his eyes,
cursing himself, being very sure that he wasn't doing
it aloud this time.

The sweet voice graced his ears again.  "it's um, it's
ok.  I've never...well..."

David's eyes opened again as he looked at her in shock.
"What, no one's ever told you that you were pretty?"

Ang shook her head in denial, her hair floating about
her as she quietly said, "No.  After all, I'm no Debbie
Holmann."  She brought her books up from her lap to
cover her chest as she said this, blushing even more
furiously.

David laid back and looked straight up at the ceiling,
thinking this might ease some of her shyness.  After
all, she *had* spoken to him normally when he had been
turned away.  He quickly ran through all of the
responses he could give her statement, starting with
what he thought other guys might say and ending with a
line he had read in a college-level Human Sexuality
book, and decided to just be himself.  After all, that
was all he could be right?  He finally said into the
quiet, talking to the ceiling instead of looking at her
as he spoke, "You don't need a large set of boobs to be
pretty, Ang."  She gasped at this blatant statement.
"In point of fact, some guy like 'em small.  And,
straight to the point, even with those glasses you are
pretty without the seven hours of primping she does per
day."

He heard the sound of books and papers hitting the
floor so he turned his head to look at her again.  Her
mouth was open, one hand mostly covering it, the other
hand raised to hold against her cheek.  He smiled
gently at her and said, "And those guys who do only see
boobs and makeup are more shallow than most puddles I
step into.  Rick doesn't see much worth in her, and
neither do I."

Ang's eyes flashed and the flush left her cheeks as she
stood up from her chair, her arms crossing tightly
across her chest.  Her voice, still musical and lovely,
was tinged with what sounded to David like anger.
"Yeah, right.  If she walked up to you in the hall and
asked you up to the Point..."

David cut her off by looking her right in those
flashing, hard, angry, lovely eyes and calmly saying,
"I'd tell her to go fuck herself."

Ang loosened her grip on her own arms and her eyes lost
their flash, going a little soft.  "Oh, come on, all
the guys like her.  Every time I've hear guys talking
to one another, all they can say is how they'd like to
go out with her or Janice Coleman."

David nodded slowly, keeping his eyes locked onto hers,
not wanting to look away, if he had time right now to
think about it.  "Yeah, they do.  Even the guys in the
Physics Club stop their meetings to talk about those
two.  But I'm not other guys.  Like Rick, I'd rather
have someone worth my time, instead of a trophy to hold
my arm."

Ang started to drop her arms, revealing to David that
she truly was almost flat, but he had to check this
with his peripheral vision as he still did not want to
look away from the vision of her eyes.  "But they are
sooo gorgeous," she almost wailed.

David closed his eyes as his heart filled with pain and
he laid flat on his back.  His voice was chocked as he
got out "Yeah, so was my sister.  Even if she was just
a Sophomore, she sure gave Debbie and Janice a run for
their money."

He felt a small hand on his shoulder and he opened his
eyes to look over at it, following the arm attached up
to Ang and was startled to see tears in her eyes.  "I
didn't mean to remind you," she said softly.

He smiled and covered her hand with his.  "It's okay,
Ang, everything reminds me.  It's not your fault."

Ang's eyes went very wide and she looked down at where
David's hand was covering hers, and a slow flush
started to color her cheeks again.  David decided
suddenly he liked the feel of her hand under his, he
didn't know why.  As he felt her grip on his shoulder
lighten and he knew she was going to remove it, he
spoke quickly to try to distract her.  "Yvette, she
spent two hours each morning just to make sure her hair
and makeup were just right.  And spent most of the rest
of the day checking it.  She was pretty without it," he
heard a catch enter his voice, but he couldn't repress
it, "but still she wasted so much time and energy on
that bullshit."

Ang stopped and looked at his face intently, leaving
her hand on his shoulder, and he realized he was
crying.  He laughed suddenly, bitterly.  "Some guy I
am, huh?  Crying and everything.  Shit."

Ang pulled her hand out from under his and softly said,
"I'll go get some tissues."

HE nodded and started to close his eyes again as she
turned away, but something was wrong, his eyes flew
back open as she began to fall, face headed straight
for the sharp point of the counter at the foot of his
cot.  "No," he got out, voice strangled, as everything
seemed to go into slow motion.  There was no way for
him to get there in time, but he *couldn't* let this
happen.  The twitch in the back of his head appeared
again and she stopped, suspended with the right lens of
her glasses less than a quarter inch from the sharp
corner.  He looked on, amazed, as her hands quickly
reached up to grab the counter.  He had just enough
time to see her hands grip the counter tightly and
think to himself "What the hell is going on?" before
his vision blurred and the spinning and blackness took
him again.


-------------------------------------------------------


This story is copyrighted by me, the author, Nilanthos
Heartrender.  Please do not repost this story or post
it on an archive without obtaining permission first.  I
can almost guarantee that permission will be granted,
but I would like the courtesy.  I can be reached at
nilanthos@hotmail.com

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