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Message-ID: <55255asstr$1170011401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Jack C. Lipton" <cupasoup@pele.cx>
Subject: {ASSM} Jung Girls (Fm mf 1st)
Lines: 414
Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2007 14:10:02 -0500
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Author: Jack C Lipton
Title: Jung Girls
Part: 
Universe: psi phi
Summary: Some things are not immediately obvious to the eye... or whatever
Keywords: mf fm ffm 1st
Revision: $Revision: 1.2 $
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/CupaSoup/www/
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RCS: $Id: JungGirls.x,v 1.2 2007/01/28 14:32:43 cupasoup Exp cupasoup $



			Jung Girls

		      by Jack C Lipton

I'd been sent off to a boarding school for my senior year of
High School, a very big change from the local public school.

Now, really, don't feel sorry for me;  I had some mixed
feelings about this, sure, but, while it kept me out of my
parents' hair, it was also keeping me out of the arguments
my parents kept having, too.  My arrival here was, to me,
proof that I'd never see them as a "happy" couple ever
again, that mingled with a great sense of relief.

Despite that sense of relief in escaping the cauldron of
anger my parents lived in, 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.

I hadn't had to share my room at home for a couple of years
since my older brother had joined the Marines but I knew I'd
be sharing it here.  One person I could easily handle, but I
would have more than one room-mate.

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 got the other side of the room.

I mentioned orientation before, though, really, I do think
that the people who put this material together made a lot of
assumptions about someone's prior experience in a boarding
school, so the first two weeks were disorienting as I slowly
adapted to the new environment and we all transitioned into
our regular classes.

In this process 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 weakness of boarding schools:  students will
work to _invent_ distractions.

Oh, sure, a few of us escaped into cyberspace, but that can
only go so far.

And, as hormone soaked teen-agers, we also had to be
circumspect about when any of us went to "take matters into
our own hands" since we didn't want to attract attention and
trawl for the homosexual boys.

That being said, we saw girls in class and in the cafeteria
because their dorms were over at the other end of the campus
from ours.  They also saw us and some of the stories I heard
from various boys about arranging a rendezvous couldn't be
for real.

The existence of girls did prey on our minds, of course.  I
knew, though, that the girls couldn't be any happier than we
were.  With the level of supervision we had, I was fairly
certain that I wouldn't get anywhere _near_ one, much less
have a relationship with one.  There were dreams of being
able to sit and talk to a girl at lunch time or dinner but
many of them were, to put it mildly, aloof.  It didn't take
me more than one rejection to decide that sitting alone was
not that bad an idea.  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, studying, when a girl sat across from me with her
tray.

Even when I was in public school and could rub shoulders
with lots of the girls at school, I had usually had poor
luck in the dating competition.  In the Dating Olympics, I
would have been awarded the Scrap Medal.

Suddenly, I was confronted with something I had never seen
before.  Something I had been certain was impossible for me
to see.  Something... amazing.

This 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.

Given her body shape, I first assumed she was a freshman.
She didn't have much meat on her, yet, and, oddly enough,
despite her paucity of womanly curves, she seemed more than
merely "a little cute" to me.

Given the above observation it became obvious that my brain
was obviously immersed in a super-saturated solution of
enough testosterone that I could see a thin, lithe, flat
chested "little" girl as incredibly _feminine_.  So sue me,
she was the first girl of any kind to seek me out, right
there she seemed like a perfect girl.

"Hi," I finally said, trying to gently break the ice.  "I'm
Joey."

She smiled at me before introducing herself.

Now, don't get me wrong, here.  I said she smiled.  What you
can't see, here, was that her smile was so bright that it
hit me like the mid-day sun.  I was still awestruck when she
finally introduced herself.  Let's not forget that I was
smitten before she even opened her mouth.

"I'm Joanie," she said, her voice instantly entrancing me.
She then looked at the rest of the empty table and finally
looked back at me, 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 color of blue I had ever seen.  I could also tell
that my breathing wasn't as autonomic as I'd been taught in
Biology.  With a sweet little voice she answered me with
"I've noticed, 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."

I nodded, spellbound.  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 in a small room with her.  I hung on, awaiting
her next words.

With a conspirational tone, she told me "Joey, we'd better
just eat lunch, all right?  I don't want the proctors to pay
attention to us."

I nodded, stunned, and went back to eating, my eyes trapped
by hers.  Parting for my next class was hard for me.

When I returned after classes for dinner, she sat with me
again... and then six more girls, all fairly young, sat at
the same table.  A total of seven happy little girls smiling
at me almost left me comatose.

Love is a concept I had been wrestling with for years, you
know.  I had no idea what it *is* or how I'd be able to tell
I was feeling it.  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.

I learned, suddenly, that love isn't something you feel, as
an individual, but something you share.  And I was sharing
my pleasure of their company with them as they shared with
me.  There seemed to be an almost immediate lift to my mood.

We all chatted over dinner, getting introductions, spending
some of my time startled that they were all seniors like
myself despite being so much younger than I and still able
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.

Again I found Joanie's eyes captivating.  It seemed that she
was looking at mine almost as much as I was looking at hers.

After dinner, my room-mate Ron told me "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.  Watch out,
OK, buddy?"

Despite the warning I was still smitten.

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 licked *me*, too, as a girl.  It was strange at
the same time it was exhilarating.

Other dreams were more of the same, overtly sexual, and left
evidence.  My shorts were filled by morning.

Sure, it was embarrassing, but nocturnal emissions provide
one of the levers for teasing here since every boy, at some
point or another, will spray themselves down.  Clean-up was
quick enough in the shower.

Joanie and I had breakfast together.  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 honest, so I
admitted "I dreamt about you, too.  And the others."

Joanie nodded at me.  "Good, that means something special.
Read up on the collective subconscious, will you, Joey?"

I'd heard of it so I nodded and we parted.

I don't know why, but it felt like we weren't _quite_ as
parted as we were.

Classes dragged until I had library time and went digging,
using 'collective subconscious' as a search term.  It was
fascinating.

The idea also explained why I felt connected to Joanie.  I
had a strong yearning for her, too.  I even felt a pull to
the other six girls, too.

The eight of us were soon a regular group at lunch-time and
we spent the next two weeks eating and talking together over
meals.  In class, my performance seemed to jump as I felt
like I was understanding any presented material more easily.
It seemed uncanny but I suspected there was some leakage
through my connection with the seven girls.

Before the end of the second week, I was invited by Joanie--
and her mom-- out for the week-end.  All eight of us.  All
packed like sardines in a mini-van.  I was in the back seat
with Joanie on my lap.

It was a miracle that I didn't spray down my underwear yet
again.

Joanie's mom Amy was a warmly pleasant woman whose body
showed that the object of my recent infatuation wasn't
likely to ever develop big breasts...  as if that fact was
important.  I couldn't see much below her neck given the
level of attention her eyes got from mine.

Hell, all of the girls I'd been sharing meal-time with had
captivating eyes, so Joanie wasn't alone in that assessment.

I half expected Joanie to jump me over the week-end, "making
a man" out of me.

She didn't.

Her older sister, Roberta, seduced me that first night in
the house.  Somehow I knew not to be afraid of her or her
advances, too.  And Roberta was closer to me in age.  I
didn't know any more than the others how much of a change
this would bring on, though.

Yet that's when everything changed for me as well as the
rest of us, as a group.

Our coupling was, well, strange.  My first time was as
quick as I've heard of teen-age virgins, but Roberta somehow
reached her climax at the same time I did, helping to keep
feelings of inadequacy at bay.  The next change totally
hosed my book-learning about sex in that I was ready to
continue immediately... and did so, to Roberta's delight.
With our second shared climax it was like a door opening in
my mind, light, thoughts and sensations spilling in.

It takes a little bit of attention to realize that this door
worked both ways, as my thoughts, feelings and sensations
spilled out through all of the women I was inexplicably
connected to.

I realized that there was a fair amount of detail that I
could now exchange on a conscious level.  I also learned the
secret:  Joanie was a telepath and had been since puberty
and she was able to "give" the gift to the others by the
simple expedient of having sex with them, including Roberta.
Joanie's experiences hadn't all been positive, however,
since some of the girls she tried to pass this gift along to
never "woke up" with it.

We spent the rest of the week-end testing things as we tried
to figure out what we had.

By the time we returned to school, three of the seven girls
in my "harem" had been boosted by me, each giving her
virginity-- at least when it came to heterosexual contact--
to me.  It was funny, though, because they each seemed to be
stronger as telepaths after we had fucked and their ease of
passing information expanded.  The three--  Holly, Helen and
Pam-- were chosen due to their ovulation point being past so
I wasn't likely to knock any of them up.  Joanie, herself,
was due to drop an egg within the next 2-3 days and so had
to remove herself from the rota the following week-end, once
again spent at Joanie's mom's.

It was Roberta, though, who had the age and freedom to try
making a baby with me.  In fact, Roberta 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 their soreness of their first
times with me.

That second week-end, Amy rode me and got a boost in her
ability as a telepath.

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

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.

The funny thing is that dreams were far more vivid because I
was riding along with them, sharing their sexual contacts
with each other, feeling the three I'd popped already still
burning for repeat performances.

Tapping "normal" people's subconscious, while not detailed,
was not easy, either, but I was still acing tests and seemed
to understand the teachers better than I ever had before,
even if I could not read them in any detail.  I think, in
hindsight, that I wouldn't have been able to _pass_
Calculus, much less be any good at it, without being able to
follow the instructor's intuitive leaps.

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, as I mentioned before, Amy as well.  I would not
have believed how much sperm my seventeen-year-old testicles
could produce.

You can bet I was not complaining.

Amy made sure I got it together with Joanie the following
week-end.

At this point 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
amount of individual identity.

It is a pity that a lot of stories about telepathy are so
much bullshit.  We can't influence normals, 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 handle sub-vocalization and we can sense certain
kinds of people.  Through touch, we can read some of their
thoughts near the surface, of course, and get more detail on
their including emotional state.  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.

My son, born nine months after my first time by Roberta,
proved to be a "latent" teep.  Amy, despite being divorced,
gave birth to my first daughter.  She was also a latent.

Joanie and I got married once I was accepted into the nearby
University.

It was Amy's idea that she and Roberta become baby teep
factories.  I was shocked but...

Joanie's first child by me was another latent teep.

We just kept up baby production.

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

As a family the first of my children were reaching puberty
when I felt it-- another telepath was in town.  Joanie and I
went a-hunting and found an older woman who recognized us
for what we were.

What's more, she knew more about being a teep than we did.

Joanie and I left our little enclave shortly afterward.  I
was traded to another family in an exchange of male
telepaths, all in an effort to maximize genetic diversity.

Someday, most likely not in my lifetime, telepathy won't be
so uncommon in the human race.  The fact that empathy is a
major part of the deal seems to be the sweetest part.  I
sometimes wonder, late at night, if our role was to keep
humanity honest with itself.

Meanwhile?

I help 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.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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