Jake's Dream Come True
Chapter 1

Caution: This Mind Control ESP Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Mind Control, BiSexual, Heterosexual, Extra Sensory Perception, mc sex story,mc story

Desc: Mind Control ESP Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Following a beating, a high school nerd finds himself with powers that make his wildest dream come true

"Emergency Exit Only," declared the foreboding sign attached to the fading gray paint of the heavy steel door at the back of the locker room. The warning continued, "If Door is Opened, Alarm Will Sound." I knew the alarm warning was a bluff, having used the door as an escape route many times. Peering through the crisscross of diagonal wires in the narrow window it appeared as though I might make yet another successful getaway. I reached for the crash bar.

Mike, my best friend and fellow nerd, put a restraining hand on my shoulder. "Why are you in such a hurry? If we stay here for another, oh say, hour or two they're bound to get bored and leave. Look, there are some nice comfortable wooden benches right over there."

I couldn't really blame him. The school's quarterback may have been gunning for me, but jocks never seemed to mind pounding on an extra nerd or two.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" I quipped with a grin, "Besides, we may not have lost them in the library, they could be here any second. C'mon, we should be able to beat them out to the parking lot if we hurry."

Pushing the door open I ran towards the parking lot coming to a panic stop as soon as I rounded the building and my car came into view. Thad and two of his friends were standing right next to it. He hadn't seen us yet so we ducked back around the corner of the gym so I could figure my next move.

I hadn't anticipated this move. I had to learn to think things through.

"Shit, I can't leave without my car." I whispered to Mike, "looks like we will have to wait them out."

I peered around the corner to make sure I hadn't been spotted.

"Uh, Jake?" I didn't like the tone of Mike's voice but before I could turn around another voice (with an even more disagreeable tone) let me know the jig was up.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, egghead?"

Before I could react I was grabbed and forcefully pushed up against the rough red brick.

It was Thad's number one toady, Gary and a couple of other jocks. His question was obviously rhetorical so I didn't bother to answer. I met his eyes and refused to look away. I have never let assholes like these guys know that I was afraid. They used fear to try and control everyone in the school and I guess I was too stubborn to be intimidated – which was why I was here.

It took only a few seconds for Thad come around and confront me himself. His lackeys let me go, leaving me standing against the wall, eye to chin with the big football star.

He wasn't happy.

"What the hell did you think you were doing? I failed the math test. Did you know that means I can't play in the game on Friday? How are we supposed to win without a quarterback? Just where is your school spirit?"

"Gee, I'm sorry." I said easily, "But Mrs. Jennings said we have to correct the papers honestly and you didn't answer any of the questions." My tone of voice may have been a bit too flippant, at least that's what I was shooting for.

"Of course I didn't answer any of the questions, dipshit. That was so you could put down the right answers and the paper would be nice and neat. Everyone in class knows what to do if they get my paper but you just had to be cute didn't you?" He emphasized the last few words by poking my chest with his finger.

"Really? You think I'm cute? Flattering, but I'm afraid I don't swing that way."

I often spoke without thinking it through. I did a lot of things without thinking them through.

Despite my flippant tone, I could feel my heart pounding as the adrenaline rushed into my system triggering the fight or flight response. The way they had me hemmed in made flight impossible – so I knew I would have to fight.

I assessed my opponents. There were six of them, and all of them pretty big. I couldn't really rely on much help from Mike. Not that he would leave me to the wolves. Even if he thought he could run, he wouldn't abandon me and he would try and help, it just wouldn't do much good.

Luckily I had a developed a strategy that had proven successful against such odds in the past – I just hoped it would work with this time.

At the first blow, I would fall to the ground crying. That usually got them to stop and leave out of disgust.

But, as they say, the best battle plan seldom survives the first shot. Before I could react two of the jocks grabbed my arms and held me against the wall. Thad stepped up and slugged me right in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me, but I wasn't allowed to drop. It took an eternity before I could take in another breath and in the interim he punched me in the face several times. Up against the wall the way I was, each punch knocked the back of my head against the brick. When they finally let me go I fell to the ground just as I had planned, except it wasn't an act. I was seeing stars and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why I wasn't puking.

Ah, there it was.

While I coughed and gagged, Thad leaned over me and whispered, "Just so you know, the coach convinced Mrs. Jennings to let him administer a retest and he guaranteed me I would pass, so I won't be missing the game after all. You just got your ass kicked for nothing."

They all laughed and walked away dragging Mike with them.

"Come with us, Mikey," Gary told him, a little too amicably, "we'll make sure you get a ride home." More likely they would take him out to the middle of nowhere, smash his phone and leave him to walk home. That's what they usually did if they didn't simply beat him up.

I lay there in the unseasonably warm, late September sun for quite a while – my stomach lurching and my head pounding. Nobody bothered me – the few who passed by apparently didn't care enough to.

Eventually I did make it to my car and a short time later I was trying to sneak into my house by the back door so my mother wouldn't see the mess Thad had made of my face. I guess she heard me despite my efforts.

"Jake? Is that you?" My mother called out from the living room.

Damn. I hoped she would stay where she was.

"Yeah, Mom, it's me." I called out as I headed up the back stairs. Just raising my voice that little bit caused my head to ache even more than it already did.

"Would you please take Mrs. Ridley's punch bowl over to her, and thank her for letting us use it."

"Sure, Mom, I just gotta go to the bathroom first."

I was still feeling a bit dizzy so I made my way up the stairs carefully. Once in the bathroom I assessed the damage. I have been beaten up plenty of times in my eighteen years, a consequence of being a nerdy smart-ass, but I had to admit that Thad was one of the best, or worst, I guess it depended on your perspective.

The amount of damage looking back at me from the mirror belied the short duration of the beating. I had a generous swelling of purple on my left temple, I think my nose was broken, both eyes were on their way to being black (not just because of the broken nose) and my lower lip was split. The man was a true artist.

I washed up and quietly descended back to the kitchen. I really didn't want my mother to see me. It would only worry her. She had enough to worry about – it was hard for single mother with a teenage boy.

My father had disappeared when I was six and mom hasn't had any relationships since. As far as I know she hasn't even been on a date – she says she isn't interested in any other guys. If she were, she certainly wouldn't have any problems finding one. She was a small woman, barely topping five feet – I had outgrown her by the time I was sixteen and was now a good nine inches taller than her. Regular exercise maintained her fine figure and, even at thirty-eight, she was very attractive with stunning blonde hair and classic features.

She was a beautiful woman whose husband had simply vanished a dozen years ago and she still carried the torch for him. I have always hoped I would be as lucky as my dad. There were several pictures around the house and while he wasn't disgusting or anything, he (much like myself) was certainly nothing special to look at, yet in those same pictures mom was a knockout. So, even though she could have had guys lined up around the block waiting for a chance to ask her out, she stayed loyal to the man who abandoned her. At least I have always assumed he abandoned her. There are ways that a person can be made to disappear without a trace – and people who specialize in taking care of such matters – but I never imagined my father involved in something like that.

But, come to think of it, I never did know what dad did for a living, and my mother was always very vague about it, as though she either didn't know or didn't want me to ever find out. But whatever it was it must have been very lucrative. We lived in an expensive house in a very nice neighborhood. I sometimes fantasized that he was some sort of secret agent who had either disappeared on a mission or had gone underground – perhaps to return at some point in the future.

Regardless, when he vanished he had a huge amount of money in their joint savings account and, as far as I knew, he had taken nothing with him. Mom worked as a file clerk and used the savings to help meet the gaps in the monthly expenses. The savings had lasted a long time and though I didn't know how much was left, I hoped that it was enough for mom to hold out until I got through school (I had good shots at several academic scholarship offers) and started picking up the tab. Dad may have abandoned her, but I'd be damned if I ever would.

I grabbed the punch bowl and headed next door. I thought about calling Mike to see if he had made it home yet, but decided to wait until I got back – if the artistry Thad had performed on my face was any indication of the big football player's level of pique, Mike was in for a long walk – at least I hoped that was the worst he'd faced.

There was no way to avoid having Mrs. Ridley see my injuries and though I tried to figure out a good lie, as I knocked on her back door I still hadn't come up with anything I considered convincing.

"Hi Jake." Came a cheerful greeting through the screen door.

Shit, it was Samantha, her daughter and one of my closest friends ... sort of. I had hoped she wouldn't see me until the marks had time to fade.

Samantha and I had grown up next door to each other and we used to spend a lot of time together. But, as we got older and our respective social niches became apparent, that time dwindled. Like me, Samantha was eighteen and she was probably just as smart as I was but, unlike me, she was popular. She was also the most incredibly beautiful girl I had ever seen, anywhere.

Her dazzling smile shone as she walked through the kitchen towards the door. Sensual green eyes flashed with amused recognition under the thick crown of strawberry blonde hair that flowed in gentle waves down her five and a half foot perfectly curved and toned frame.

I didn't see too much of her at school although when we did run into each other she was still nice enough to me. I was sure it was mostly out of pity and for old times sake so I never pushed it. At night however, especially in the summer, we would often sit in one of our backyards and talk, just like when we were kids.

When she opened the screen door I realized she must have been taking advantage of the nice weather and getting some sun because she was wearing her tiniest bikini. Small pieces of white cloth barely covered her nipples while revealing the sides and bottoms of her firm, generous breasts. Below that her figure swept in along her sides to frame a flat stomach with just a hint of definition to her abs. Her thong barely covered her mysterious treasure box; a thong so small the only explanation for no hair peeking out was that she must be shaved. Her tawny skin was smooth and while it always had a slight olive tint to it, it currently glowed a golden toasty hue that confirmed she had been working on her tan.

I forgot why I was there.

It wasn't just that she was stunningly beautiful and mostly naked – I had seen her like that many times – it was because I loved her with all my heart. I always have and I always will. She was intelligent, had a great sense of humor and she was the nicest person I knew. As kids we were the best of friends and as far as I was concerned she still was among mine, though I was certainly no longer among hers.

Her smile faded when the damage to my face registered.

"Shit, are you okay? I heard Thad was looking for you. Why do you have to antagonize those creeps? Just stay away from them."

"Well, you know ... everyone's gotta have a hobby." I tried to smile but my split lip refused to let me. No matter how many times I got beat up, it was always a little embarrassing to be seen like this, especially by Samantha.

"Come in here and let me make sure you don't need to go to the emergency room."

I remembered why I was there. "That's okay, I only came over to bring back your mom's punch bowl. I just need to go home and lay down for a while." I did too. My head hurt like hell and I was still feeling very dizzy.

"Bullshit." She said in an authoritative tone, "get your ass in here and sit down."

I let her pull me into her kitchen and took a seat while she got some ice. Her back was to me so I let my eyes roam freely along her sensuous curves until they settled on her golden brown, tight round ass. The thong left nothing to the imagination from this angle. Despite the pain I was in, my cock began to swell.

"Here, put this on your nose, it's definitely broken. What is that? Seven times now?"

"Yeah, I think it's seven. I don't really count 'em."

I lied, it was actually nine.

She pushed my sandy hair back to get a better look at my forehead and that put her lovely chest, impossibly narrow waist and luscious rounded hips just a foot in front of my face. I thought my cock would rip right through my loose jeans.

"What the hell?" she pulled her hand off my head and her fingers were covered with blood. She quickly pulled my head down and examined the back of my head. My forehead pressed into the wondrously resilient flesh of her marvelous breasts. The pounding in my head suddenly became irrelevant and I had to remind myself to breathe.

"Holy shit, Jake! The back of your head is like hamburger!"

I heard her words but they, and the panicked tone accompanying them, were meaningless, so consumed were my senses by her presence.

She spun around grabbing a clean towel out of a drawer and soaked it in the sink. Her lithe body and graceful movements would have been amazingly erotic even without her current lack of clothing. Samantha never seemed at all modest in front of me. Hell, we used to play naked in the sprinklers when we were kids. She often introduced me as her brother and while that made me feel pretty good, I didn't want to be her brother, I wanted to be her lover – something that was never going to happen.

In no time at all she was behind me, carefully, yet still painfully, trying to clean the blood out of my hair with the damp towel so she could assess the damage better.

"This isn't working." she said, frustrated. "Come over to the sink."

I got up and followed her, the world dipped and wobbled, as though we were on a ship; the kitchen faded along with the rest of existence until the universe consisted of only the two of us.

She pulled off my shirt and bent me over so my head was right down in the sink. Reaching over me she turned on the water. She stayed still for a few moments, her hand under the running water, waiting for it to warm up. The water wasn't the only thing she had turned on. She was leaning against me, the warm soft skin of her side and chest pressed firmly against my left arm and shoulder. I desperately wanted to move my arm so her nearly nude torso would be in contact with mine. But I couldn't think of a reason to move it, so I stayed still and enjoyed what I could. My right arm was free and I used it to adjust my throbbing cock so it would be less constricted and even more blood flowed into it.

As she worked on washing the blood out of my hair, her body began undulating against mine; my hard cock twitched and throbbed against my loose boxers, stimulating it ever so slightly. My head swam and for a brief moment, the kitchen became even more distant as I slipped into a dreamlike state.

We lay in a bed, our bodies rubbing and sliding together, both of us naked, her soft fingers deftly tickling my raging hard on. But, something intruded into my dream, something that wasn't quite right, something that hurt.

I slowly became aware that the pain was from the hot water and anti-bacterial soap she was using on my head wound.


"Oh, don't be such a baby. I'm being as gentle as I can."

"I know – I'll shut up. But ... could you hurry, please."

"Okay, almost there, hold on, let me grab a towel." She reached into the same drawer as before, pulled out another towel and draped it over my head. She gently pressed it against my hair to dry it, carefully avoiding the injured spot. When she was satisfied she stood me up.

My head became vertical too fast, the room spun, fading back into the dream and I felt my knees go weak. I started to fall.

Samantha grabbed me in a bear hug to support me. We were just about cheek-to-cheek, her impressive chest pressed against me. I could feel the heat of her skin against mine.

My brain was fuzzy and trying to focus but my body was very aware of what was going on. I guess if I could have thought at all clearly I might have had the sense to be worried about my mental state. But I was so out of it all I knew was her firm embrace and her voluptuous all but naked body.

Holding me like that she slowly moved us back to my chair. As we made our way across the room her stomach and cervix pressed and rubbed on my throbbing cock causing intermittent and extremely pleasant friction. In my dream we were again in bed, she held me tightly, her hot body writhing against mine, her steamy snatch milking my turgid member.

Even though my dream dominated my consciousness, at some level I was still aware of what was really happening. We reached the chair and she slowly lowered me into it. She must have placed her knee on the chair for leverage – it was between my legs. My cock was sliding down her naked thigh just as my face slid between her firm breasts. In my dream she held my head against them as she came and cried out my name, her passionate release triggering mine.

In the kitchen my body was pushed over the edge and I moaned in pleasure as cum exploded from my cock in surge after surge of denim drenching ecstasy.

After what seemed like hours of warm fuzzy floating, I noticed that there was something in front of my face and when I could sort of focus I realized it was a Samantha shaped something. Flashes of white light framed her angelic features, though her lovely green eyes – which I thought should have been filled with a blissful afterglow – were staring at me with a very different emotion.

Suddenly, a stab of white-hot pain hit me right between my eyes and everything went black.

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