Chapter 11

As I enter the classroom, the sight of Rebecca Harrison sitting at her desk is like a beacon in the sea of dullness. She’s always been the popular one, the girl everyone wants, but no one can quite have. Her beauty is undeniable, with medium length blonde hair that falls to her shoulders and bright blue eyes that seem to sparkle with secrets. She looks at me in fear when she sees me enter the classroom.

I take a seat next to her, my heart racing. “Gemma told me things you did to her,” she whispers, her voice low and trembling. “I don’t know why she still likes you, but I don’t want any part of it.” I can see the walls she’s built around herself, the defensive posture she’s adopted since learning of the ‘spiritual healing’ I’ve been dispensing. She’s clearly not just scared; she’s repulsed by the thought of what happened to her friend.

“Look, Becky,” I start, keeping my voice calm and soothing, “it’s not what you think. Gemma came to me voluntarily. She was seeking relief from her back pain, and I was just trying to help.” I keep my eyes locked on hers, willing her to believe me, to trust me. “What happened between us was a part of that healing. It’s a sacred ritual, something that’s been lost to this world.”

Her eyes narrow, searching my face for any sign of deceit. “Gemma said you did ... things to her that I don’t understand. Things that are wrong. Unnatural. I don’t want to be a part of that,” she says, her voice firm despite her trembling. “I know you’ve got something going on with Mrs. Baker and others, but I’m not like them. I’m not going to be manipulated.”

I nod solemnly, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “I understand, Becky. What I do is about freeing people from their pain, and if that means opening their eyes to new experiences, so be it. But I would never force anything on anyone,” I say, my voice as smooth as silk. “You’re in control of your own destiny. If you ever decide you’re ready to explore the true depths of your soul, I’ll be here to guide you.”

Her gaze flicks down to where my hand rests on her arm, and I can feel the electricity that passes between us. She’s not immune to my charm, to the allure of the unknown. “Thank you for the offer but I don’t need any help,” she says, but the way she says it suggests she’s not entirely convinced. I smile inwardly, knowing that the seed of curiosity has been planted.

As the teacher drones on about World War 2, I let my gaze drift to Rebecca, focusing on her intently. Unseen by the rest of the class, I send out invisible tendrils of ether, reaching out to caress her aura. It’s a gentle touch, a whisper of intent that tickles the edges of her consciousness. She stiffens slightly in her seat, her eyes flicking to me before returning to the front of the room. She’s aware of something, a presence that she can’t quite put her finger on.

With a smirk, I keep my eyes forward, pretending to be absorbed in the lecture. The tendrils of energy coil around her legs, moving higher and higher, but never making contact with her skin. It’s a dance of seduction, a silent promise of the ecstasy that awaits her if she’d only allow me to show her. The tension builds, a delicious anticipation that’s palpable even amidst the stale classroom air.

Then, when she least expects it, I let the tendril touch her, a feather-light flick against her inner thigh that makes her gasp. She jerks her head to look at me, eyes wide with shock. I meet her gaze with innocence, a question in my eyes as if to ask, “Did you feel that?” Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away, trying to hide her reaction from the rest of the class.

“What?” I ask with a mask of innocence.

“Nothing,” she says, blushing.

The next time she glances my way, the tendril darts upward, brushing the fabric of her skirt over her mound. Her breath catches in her throat, and she stiffens, her eyes going wide with surprise. Again, I act as if nothing has happened, pretending that my focus on the teacher’s words. Yet, I can feel her growing arousal, the scent of it thickening the air around us. The power of my mana thrums through me, eager for more.

As the lesson drags on, I continue this silent seduction. Each time her gaze turns to me, the tendril flutters against her, teasing and taunting her untouched folds. I form a link between the tendrils and my taste buds, savouring the maiden fluids. Her breathing becomes shallower, her cheeks more flushed. She squirms in her seat, trying to maintain her composure. Her curiosity and desire are growing stronger, and I can see the moment she decides to indulge in this secret game.

Suddenly, the room seems to shift. A couple of the boys around us start to look uncomfortable, fidgeting and sniffing the air. They can smell the scent of her burgeoning arousal and they don’t like it, but they can’t tell whether the smell is coming from me or Rebecca. The teacher pops out of the room to get some materials so the two boys use the opportunity to switch seats with two girls, moving away from us to get away from scent that I find intoxicating. The classroom whispers with confusion, but I play it off as if nothing is amiss. The teacher comes back in after a few minutes and I continue my game of secretly stimulating Rebecca’s pussy throughout the rest of the lesson.

The bell finally rings, releasing us from the tension. I stand up, my cocks swaying slightly beneath my clothes, and gesture for Rebecca to follow me on her unsteady legs. She does so reluctantly, her eyes downcast as if she’s afraid to meet anyone else’s gaze. I lead her to a secluded part of the schoolyard behind some trees, where we can be alone. I used some mana put up an illusion to make it look like we arent there.

“Becky,” I start, turning to face her, “I know this is all new to you, but I promise you, there’s nothing to be afraid of. The connection we share is something that’s been lost to this world, something beautiful and pure.”

Her eyes search mine, the confusion and fear slowly giving way to curiosity. “What’s happening to me?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. She’s feeling the effects of my mana, the beginnings of the intense desire that I can so easily kindle in the females here.

“You’re experiencing the true nature of yourself,” I reply, moving closer. “Your body has been deprived of something fundamental, and I’m here to restore that balance.” I lean in, my breath warm against her cheek, “And I think you’re ready to embrace it.”

With that, I gently push her down onto the soft grass, her skirt riding up her thighs. She doesn’t protest, instead, she looks up at me with a mix of fascination and trepidation. I lift the fabric, exposing her delicate skin to the cool air. Her panties are damp, the scent of her arousal unmistakable even amidst the faint bloom of flowers nearby.

“Rebecca,” I murmur, inhaling deeply, “I can’t believe the boys here don’t worship your beautiful fragrance.” She blushes, her eyes wide with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. “Your scent is like nothing I’ve ever encountered. It’s like ... it’s like a garden in bloom.”

I lean closer, my eyes never leaving hers. Her breath hitches as I press a gentle kiss to the fabric of her panties, the heat of my breath causing it to flutter against her. She gasps, her eyes closing involuntarily as I kiss again, this time letting my tongue trace the outline of her sex beneath the barrier. Her thighs quiver, and I can feel her body responding, opening up to me like a blossoming flower.

With a swift motion, I pull her panties to one side, exposing her glistening wetness to the cool air. The small amount of blonde fuzz and pink lips have her dew of arousal collecting on them. The scent of her arousal hits me full force, and I can’t help but groan with pleasure. I dip my head down, my tongue darting out to swipe at her swollen clit, the taste of her pure and intoxicating. Her eyes fly open, meeting mine, and I whisper, “It’s delicious.”

Her breath comes in pants now, her hands clutching at the grass as she tries to hold herself still. I let my tongue explore her, tasting her, learning her. Each flick and suckle makes her squirm, her hips lifting to meet my mouth. The sound of her pleasure is like music to my ears, a symphony of gasps and moans that crescendos as she nears climax.

Her legs begin to shake, and I know she’s close. I slide one hand under her, cupping her ass to lift her hips closer to my face. With my other hand, I gently part her folds, giving my tongue better access to her clit. The taste of her is addictive, and I can’t get enough. Her breath hitches, her body tenses, and with one final, firm flick of my tongue, she shatters, crying out as waves of pleasure crash through her.

Rebecca’s eyes are glazed with euphoria as she looks at me, her chest heaving with deep breaths. She’s lost in the aftermath of her first ever orgasm and its from oral stimulation, a concept she had never even imagined before this moment. I smile, my cheeks flushed with the satisfaction of bringing her to such heights.

But the moment is shattered when I feel a shadow loom over us. I look up to see Tristan, a look of shock and betrayal etched on his face. His eyes flicker with a mix of anger and confusion as he takes in the sight of me with my face buried between Rebecca’s thighs. He had obviously been secretly following us but couldn’t see us when I put the illusion up. It seems that just now he had stumbled past the illusion and witnessed me orally pleasuring her.

“What are you doing to Becky?” he demands, his voice trembling. His nostrils flare as he catches the scent of her arousal. “What is that smell?”

I pull away from Rebecca, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and meet his gaze calmly. “It’s just part of the spiritual healing,” I reply, keeping my tone soothing. “It’s a natural response to the spiritual connection I’m forming with her. You wouldn’t understand, Tristan. It’s beyond your comprehension.”

Rebecca sits up, her legs trembling slightly, and adjusts her skirt. She looks at Tristan with a mix of embarrassment and defiance. “It’s true,” she says, her voice still shaking from the intensity of her climax. “Gemma talked to us about it. She said it would be ... amazing.”

Tristan’s eyes dart between us, his expression torn. “But Becky,” he stammers, “we talked about this last night after Gemma mentioned it. You said you didn’t want to ... to do things like that with anyone.”

Rebecca looks at him with a soft smile, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm. “Tristan, you don’t understand,” she says gently, her voice filled with a newfound sense of power and confidence. “It was beautiful, I’ve never felt anything like it. I really felt like I was connecting with Steve in a deep and meaningful way, I think this is something I’ve been missing for my whole life.”

Tristan’s face contorts with a mix of emotions—fear, anger, and jealousy. “Becky,” he says, his voice strained, “you’re not thinking right. You need to come with me, now.” He reaches out a hand towards her from where he stood three meters away, but becky stays put, her eyes locked on mine as I stroke her thighs lovingly.

“Tristan,” I say calmly, “you have to understand. What I offer Becky, no one else can. Not even you.” I let my gaze linger on his crotch, his tiny, limp micropenis is hidden beneath his pants. His cheeks redden as he reflexively covers himself even though it’s covered. “You see, I am something of a ... specialist. My techniques are unique to me, and they bring a kind of fulfillment that you can’t even imagine.”

He takes a step forward towards her but then immediately steps back. His nose wrinkling as the scent of her arousal grows stronger. His eyes are filled with a mix of revulsion and fascination, his own body betraying him. “What have you done to her?” he whispers, his hand still reaching for Rebecca.

“It’s a spiritual gift,” I reply, my voice as smooth as silk. “One that I’m offering to share with you all. But only if you’re willing to open your minds and hearts to the possibilities.”

Tristan’s revulsion turns to anger, his hand clenching into a fist. “I won’t let you corrupt Becky,” he snarls, taking another step back. “I’ll tell everyone what you’re really doing!”

I rise to my feet, my own cocks tenting my pants, a symbol of the power I hold in this strange land. “Tristan,” I say, my voice firm but not unkind, “if you truly care for Becky, you would support her on her path to spiritual enlightenment. Can’t you see the transformation before your eyes? She is blossoming under my care, discovering truths about herself that she never knew existed.”

Rebecca stands, her legs still unsteady, and she takes my hand in hers. My heart melts when I see the look of love in her beautiful blue eyes directed towards me. She turns to Tristan, he sees her eyes shining with a newfound light. “He’s right,” she says, her voice filled with conviction. “I feel more alive than I ever have before.”

Tristan’s gaze falls to our joined hands, then back to my face. The anger in his eyes is replaced with something else—something akin to defeat. He looks at Rebecca, really looks at her, and for the first time, he seems to see the change in her. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, and there’s a glow about her that’s impossible to miss. Even the way she stands is different—taller, more confident.

“Rebecca,” I say, my voice gentle but firm, “you should join me for lunch in the infirmary. There’s so much more of your spiritual journey we have to explore.”

Her eyes, still glazed with the aftermath of pleasure, slowly focus on me. “Lunch?” she repeats, a hint of confusion in her voice. “But the school ... the teachers...”

“Don’t worry,” I say with a knowing smile, “I have everything under control. Trust me, Rebecca. This is just the beginning of your spiritual awakening. In the infirmary, we’ll have the privacy to delve deeper into the mysteries of the divine.” I give her hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the energy between us pulse with anticipation.

Her eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I see the doubt flicker in their depths. But then she nods, her grip on my hand tightening. “Okay,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I’ll meet you there at lunch.”

With a final look at Tristan, whose face is a mask of confusion and betrayal, I lean down and press a gentle kiss to Rebecca’s lips. It’s a chaste kiss, but it holds the promise of so much more—the secret knowledge we now share, the connection that has been forged between us. As our lips part, she gasps, her eyes widening as she tastes herself on my mouth.

Tristan stammers, his hand falling to his side. The sight of our intimate exchange sends a jolt of shock through him, his eyes darting from my lips to hers. “Becky,” he chokes out, “What is happening?”

Rebecca smiles at him, a soft, knowing smile. “Tristan,” she says, “you’re not ready for this. But I am.” With that, she turns and walks away, pulling me with her by my hand. Her hips swayed gently, leaving him standing there, frozen in place.

As we walk back towards the school, the weight of his gaze on us feels like a physical presence. I can feel the tension in the air, the whispers that follow us as we move. But I hold my head high, my hand resting casually on Rebecca’s ass. She shivers at my touch, a delicate tremor that runs through her body, and she presses back into me, eager for more. I feel a satisfying burst of mana from Tristan’s jealousy at seeing my hand rubbing his girlfriend’s ass.

The feeling of power is intoxicating, the mana from Tristan’s humiliation flooding into me in waves. It’s like a river of pure energy, swelling my spirit until I feel like I could take on the world. His mana feels so rich, its like ambrosia. I achieve a beautiful high, and it’s all because of the simple act of taking what’s rightfully his.

I can feel the eyes of the students on me as we part ways, their curiosity piqued by the sight of the regular kid with his hand on the goddess’s ass. They have no idea the depths of depravity I’ve introduced her to—how she moaned and writhed under my tongue—or the power I’ve stolen from Tristan just by being a man who knows the secrets of pleasure. But there’s no time to revel in the victory. We separate, heading back to our classes, the secret of our rendezvous shared only between us, and Tristan of course.

As I sit through the next lesson, the words of the teacher become a dull drone in the background, my thoughts racing with the thrill of the conquest and the anticipation of the next encounter. The room feels stifling, the air thick with the scent of untapped sexual tension. It’s all I can do to keep my cocks from hardening again, a testament to the control I’ve learned over my body. With a mental sigh, I decide to pass the time by trying out the new abilities given to me by Atherios. I try to reach out to Mrs. Simmons telepathically.

Closing my eyes, I focus my mana, shaping it into a tendril that stretches out of my mind and into the void. It’s like swimming in a sea of thoughts and emotions, searching for the familiar warmth of Mrs. Simmons’s presence. It doesn’t take long to find her; she’s in the infirmary, her gentle hands cradling a student’s forehead as she gives them a few pills and a glass of water. The girl’s headache is nothing more than a mild annoyance to her, but to Mrs. Simmons, it’s a chance to show care and compassion.

“Mrs. Simmons,” I whisper into her mind, my voice a soft caress that sends a shiver down her spine. She jumps, her hand flying to her mouth as she looks around the room, searching for the source of the sudden intrusion. The student looks at her, her faces a mix of confusion and concern. She quickly regains her composure, giving her a forced smile as she shakes her head.

Once the student leaves, she closes the door to the infirmary and leans against it, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “What was that?” she asks, her eyes wide with fear.

“It was me,” I reply, my voice still in her mind. “I’ve come to see if your spiritual training is progressing well, Mrs. Simmons. The fact you can link with me bodes well. Your dedication to the divine is inspiring.”

Her eyes widen further, and she sinks into her chair, the reality of the situation sinking in. “How?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “How can you do this?”

“It’s part of the divine connection,” I explain, my voice a gentle coo in her head. “A gift granted to those who are truly devoted to the art of spiritual healing.” I can feel her excitement growing, the barriers of her mind cracking open like a bud in spring. She’s eager to learn, eager to experience the full extent of my power.

“During lunch, I require the infirmary for a private session,” I tell her, watching her pupils dilate slightly as the words sink in. “I will be bringing a student who is in need of ... special attention.”

Mrs. Simmons nods, her eyes glazed with arousal. “I understand,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “But there’s a staff meeting today, so I won’t be able to ... participate.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I say. “Maybe you can join us later. Now, make sure the infirmary is prepared for our session. I expect privacy, as always.”

Her eyes flicker with excitement and a hint of jealousy, but she nods in understanding. “Of course,” she murmurs, her voice a soft purr. “The infirmary will be ready.”

Mrs. Simmons telepathically asks me, “Who is the lucky girl you’re bringing for this special session?” Her curiosity is palpable, her mind eager to know more about the one I’ve chosen to initiate into our sacred ritual.

“It’s Rebecca Harrison,” I reply with a smirk, I feel her excitement rise up even higher. “The one with the golden hair and the sweet, innocent smile.”

Mrs. Simmons’s breath hitches in her throat, and a soft moan escapes her lips. “Oh,” she whispers, “Rebecca is so pretty. It would have been so nice to see her body ... to see what you do to her.” Her voice is thick with desire, and I can feel the heat of her arousal from across the telepathical link we share. She’s picturing it in her mind, the two of us together, her imagination running wild with the possibilities.

“It will indeed be quite an experience,” I say, my eyes gleaming with anticipation. Then I remember that even if Mrs Simmons is fully on board, I still need to act pious for people to take me seriously. Almost like a cult leader. “But remember, this is a sacred act. It’s not about us, but about guiding her to a higher plane of existence.”

Mrs. Simmons nods fervently, her cheeks flushing with a mix of arousal and reverence. “Of course,” she murmurs, “it’s all for her spiritual growth.”

“Exactly,” I reply, my voice a low rumble of approval in her mind. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Simmons. Keep our little secret.” I swipe her groin with a secondary tendril before I withdraw my main telepathic tendril. Hearing a protestful squeak from her, I chuckle as I leave her to stew in her own thoughts and desires.

As the bell rings for lunch, I make my way to the infirmary, my heart racing with excitement. I’m confident that Rebecca will be waiting for me, eager to explore the next level of her spiritual awakening. She’s a tantalizing prospect—beautiful, innocent, and hooked on the pleasure I offer.

I round the corner, there’s Mrs. Simmons, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She holds out a small key, attached to a simple ring. “This is for you,” she says, her voice low and breathless. “It’s a spare key to the infirmary. For your ... private sessions.”

I take the key, the metal warm from her hand, and slip it into my pocket with a nod of thanks. “Your dedication to our sacred work is appreciated,” I tell her, watching her blush deepen. She’s so easy to manipulate, her desires so transparent. It’s almost too easy.

Mrs. Simmons gathers herself, straightening her blouse and smoothing her hair before she heads off to the staff meeting, her thoughts likely racing with the promise of what’s going to happen in the infirmary. I, on the other hand, have no such distractions. I stride down the empty hallway, the clack of my shoes echoing off the tile, my two massive cocks swinging slightly with each step. I’ve gotten used to the feeling of them, I almost forget that the second cock is not a normal part of me. That I’ve been granted these tools and power to manipulate and control these innocents.

As I turn the corner, I spot Rebecca, her golden hair catching the light from the windows like a halo. She’s leaning against the wall outside the infirmary, her skirt is still slightly askew from our earlier encounter. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she bites her lip nervously. She’s been waiting for this moment, I can tell. She’s been waiting for me to take her to the next level, to show her what true spiritual ecstasy feels like.

I unlock the infirmary door with the key Mrs. Simmons provided, and gesture for her to enter. She does so with a grace that belies the eagerness bubbling under the surface. Once inside, I close the door with a firm click, the sound echoing in the quiet space. The room is cool and sterile, the perfect contrast to the heat that will soon fill it. I can feel my cocks stirring again, eager to introduce her to the kind of pleasure she’s never even dreamed of.

But just as I’m about to lock the door, it swings open again, and in strides Tristan, his chest puffed out with an unmistakable air of righteousness. “What do you think you’re going to do with Rebecca?” he demands, his voice a mix of jealousy and indignation.

I turn to him with a serene smile, my eyes gleaming with the power of the mana I’ve amassed. “Why, I’m merely providing her with the spiritual guidance she so desperately needs,” I reply, my voice a gentle yet firm reminder of my divine status.

Tristan’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m her boyfriend,” he growls, stepping closer to me. “I take care of her, and I don’t need some ... some ... mystic to come in and mess with her head!”

“Ah,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “but do you truly support her, Tristan? Or do you hold her back, shackled by your own fears and limitations?” I gesture to Rebecca, who stands by the treatment couch, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fascination. “Look at her, standing there, unsure of herself. Does she seem truly fulfilled by you?”

Tristan’s jaw clenches as he takes in her uncertain stance, the way she watches me with a longing that’s unmistakable. “I’ve always been there for her,” he insists, his voice strained. “I’ve never done anything to hurt her. I’ve supported her through everything.”

Rebecca looks from him to me, her eyes filled with a sudden determination. “Tristan,” she says, her voice firm despite the tremble in her voice, “if you truly care for me, you’ll support me in this too.” She steps forward, placing a hand on his chest. “I need to grow, and if this ... this spiritual healing can help me, then I need to do it.”

Tristan’s eyes widen, his expression one of shock and confusion. He looks at her hand on his chest, then at me, then back at her. “But ... but this is wrong!” he stammers, his voice lacking conviction.

Rebecca’s gaze remains unwavering, her voice steady. “Is it, Tristan?” she asks softly. “Or are you just scared? Scared of what you don’t understand?”

Tristan’s eyes flicker with doubt, his chest heaving as he grapples with his emotions. He looks from Rebecca’s hopeful gaze to my calm, confident demeanor. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he nods. “Fine,” he says, his voice tight. “But I’m staying. I want to understand what this ... healing is all about.”

“That’s the spirit,” I say with a smirk, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The path to enlightenment is often best walked together. Now lets all remove our clothes.”

Tristan’s eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back, “What? No, that’s not necessary!” he protests, his voice high with panic.

Rebecca, however, looks at me with a mix of fear and excitement. She’s been primed by our previous sessions, her curiosity and desire for the unknown overshadowing any modesty she might feel. Slowly, she starts to unbutton her blouse, her trembling fingers revealing the lacy bra beneath. She glances at Tristan, her eyes pleading for his understanding.

Tristan, his face a mask of confusion, starts to slowly remove his own clothes. His eyes dart from Rebecca to me, his mind racing with questions he can’t quite articulate. I undress much more rapidly to reveal the towering pillars of flesh that I possess.

They both look at my cocks in bewilderment. “What kind of creature are you?” exclaims Tristan, his eyes are wide.

“This is normal for spiritual healers. Stop being bigoted.” I pretend to be hurt by his comment on my anatomy, inside though I’m pleased with their reactions.

Playing the sympathy card works. Rebecca comes to my defense. “Tristan - there’s no need to make Steve feel different just because he’s a spiritual healer. It’s fine, Steve. Your two things look magnificent though, their size is amazing.” She looks intrigued by my massive twin erections.

“Thanks Becky.” I give her my best smile and get a beautiful one back from her. “They’re called cocks by the way, not things.” Becky nodded earnestly.

Tristan realizes he’s losing the moral high ground. “Sorry for my outburst, its just that they’re both so much bigger than mine,” Tristan apologizes to me. He covers his own tiny pecker with his hand, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” I say, my tone soothing yet commanding, “this is a place of purity and acceptance. Let go of your inhibitions and embrace the divine.”

Rebecca and Tristan exchange glances, their expressions a tapestry of shock and bewilderment. Slowly, they comply, revealing their naked forms. Tristan’s eyes are drawn to my diphallic anatomy, his hand involuntarily moving to cover his own tiny micropenis, a stark contrast to the grandeur of my erect, thick shafts. The sight of them seems to both intimidate and fascinate him, his gaze flickering with a mix of awe and inadequacy.

As Rebecca’s bra falls away, revealing her full, ripe breasts, she takes a deep breath, her nipples hardening with excitement. She licks her lips, her eyes lingering on the veins that pulse along the lengths of my cocks. Her arousal is palpable, the scent of her desire reaches my nose. It’s intoxicating, a potent elixir that fuels my own need to claim and conquer.

“Becky, you’re really beautiful,” I tell her as I take in her fully naked form, my first ever crush from back in elementary school really is quite exquisite.

“Thank you,” she replies with a shy expression, blushing at the compliment.

“What do you need me to heal?” I ask her.

Rebecca ponders the question for several seconds. “I don’t think I have anything I need you to heal but seeing as you are a spiritual healer, can you cure loneliness?”

Inside I’m laughing but I maintain a stoic demeanor. “I have a solution for your loneliness. A baby. You can raise a child and cherish him or her. You’ll never be lonely again.”

“A baby?” Becky is puzzled. “They’re expensive. There’s no way I can afford that, my parents wouldn’t be able to put up that kind of cash either...”