I'm reposting my first two chapters, after a few minor
fixes and grammatical changes, as it has been over 3
years since I started and my life finally got un-
fucked enough for me to start writing again, under a
new fucking name because of work and family getting
into my shit. As my life was fucked mostly due to
loneliness, and I now have a woman I would die for in
my life, and she is the vision of perfection in my
eyes, I don't expect to backslide again ever. Please,
enjoy, and be assured I'll be writing on this story :)
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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?
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Pure Telekinesis by: Waylan Dagger
(waylandagger@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 Laura. 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. Laura 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. Laura 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 Laura 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 Holmann, 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, her eyes darting, looking for
help.
One Freshman or perhaps Sophomore male walking
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, the 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, 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
Holmann 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 act
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 Laura. "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 guys 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 heard 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. "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, and
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 just before they closed, he saw
something had gone 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.
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This story is copyrighted by me, the author, Waylan
Dagger, formerly 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
waylandagger@hotmail.com