Chapter 1

The harsh buzzing of my alarm jerked me from my slumber.

I had fallen asleep reading erotic stories on my tablet. Porn was becoming boring to me. It all followed the same pattern, she sucks him, he fucks her, turns her over, maybe does her ass, and then jizzes on her tits.

That and that stupid fucking breathing that they did. Why the fuck anyone thought that someone panting and hissing through their teeth every breath, like an asthmatic steam engine, was sexy, beat the fuck out of me.

Nowadays I had started reading stories, they tended to do it for me. But even then, there were two problems. If it were a stroke story it was usually too short. I couldn’t really get off before the story was over, and if it were a longer story then I often got involved with the plot, and started skimming over the sex, as it just got in the way.

Then there were those stories that were just so badly written I couldn’t understand a fucking word of them.

I’d found a new story the night before, about a guy who had suddenly found himself to have mind control powers. It started a bit weird, but I was intrigued enough to continue to read, and by chapter five, I was hooked.

For now, though, I needed to get my ass up, and get to work. I’d been late once this week already, and my boss, while not too much of an asshole, could only be pushed so far.

I grabbed a quick shower and put my uniform on, such as it was. A set of dark trousers and a top with the company logo on it made up the ensemble. I prepared to set off. I walked to work, since I didn’t have a car. The store I worked at was only about half a mile from my house in any case.

Looking out of the window, and seeing that it was, as always, raining, I put on my heavy coat, and stepped out, closing and locking my flat door behind me. I walked down the flight of concrete steps connecting my, and my neighbours’ front doors to the street, and set off.

Traffic was noisy, as always. I lived on a main road, and cars and trucks thundered past me, less than two or three feet from where I walked on the pavement. There was no fence, or guardrail. The speed limit was supposed to be thirty miles per hour along this stretch of road, but since it was a short stretch between two longer stretches of higher speed roads, nobody obeyed it.

I stopped at the pelican crossing, noticing a little old lady, who judging by the white stick in her hand, was blind. She was waiting at the crossing too. She’d pushed the button, and I could see the lights changing.

The lights changed, and the crossing began to beep, indicating that it was the pedestrians turn to cross. The old lady started to walk out into the street. I, however could see the car approaching at speed, and it looked to me like it was going far too fast to stop before the crossing. In slow motion I saw the wheels of the car all lock up as the driver panicked and slammed on her brakes, heard the whine of the car sliding on the wet tarmac, and saw, in my mind what would happen to the old lady who was directly in the path of the oncoming vehicle, and had stopped, seemingly aware of danger, but unsure as to where it was coming from.

I reacted.

With a shout, I dived for the old lady, grabbing her and lifting her as I ran directly into and almost out of the cars path. I managed to get her clear, but the door mirror of the car clipped me as the car passed spinning me around. Since my balance had been tenuous in the first place, I had no way of avoiding falling but even then, I tried not to fall on the old lady, landing on my back, with her falling on top of me. The car finally came to rest about five yards past the crossing. The driver took a look in the mirror, saw me and the old lady on the ground, and took off.

Several people came over and helped me and the old lady back to our feet. Apart from a really sore arse where the mirror had hit, I seemed to have gotten away without injury. I was however soaked and filthy having fallen onto a wet and dirty road.

“Are you alright?” the old lady asked, putting her hand out to me.

“I’m fine,” I said pulling myself together.

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t see him coming. I can only see shadows. By the time I saw him I thought it was too late. Are you hurt?”

“I’ll live,” I said. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” the old lady said. “You saved me. I wish I had some way to repay you.”

Strangely when she said that, I thought he saw a hazy glow around her head. By the time I recognized it, it was gone.

“I must have banged my head,” I thought.

“Mike?” the voice came from behind me. It was my manager from the store. “Are you alright?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I think I need to go home and get changed. I’m going to be late.”

“Late nothing,” said my boss. “I saw what happened. Take the day. Go to A&E and get checked out.”

I was surprised at that. “Go on,” said the boss. “I’d drive you, but I really need to go open up. I’ll call an ambulance if you want?”

“No,” I said. “I’ll go home and get cleaned up. If I think I need it, I’ll go to casualty later.”

“Okay then,” said my boss. “Let me know how you get on. If you need more time off just call in.”

I looked around for the old lady, but she had obviously decided to carry on to wherever she was going, I didn’t blame her, the rain was still coming down and it wasn’t warm.

I limped back to my flat, my arse throbbing from where the mirror had hit it.

Once inside I stripped off my wet clothes, dropping them on the floor. I would have to wash them all. Even my underpants were soaked. I turned my back to the mirror, trying to see the cheek of my arse, and if there was any damage. There was a large red mark, but nothing more to see. I thought I might get a bruise though.

I chuckled to myself, imagining telling the story in the pub, and people asking to see my ‘war wound.’

I shivered, remembering I was naked, and it was cold. The heating in the flat was off, since I was due to be at work. I walked into the living room and switched it on, and then went back into the bathroom and got in the shower.

After I was warmed up and dry, I went into the kitchen and made a coffee, then took it into the living room and parked myself on the couch. I’d brought my tablet through from the bedroom and figured that, after a couple of painkillers, the best medicine would be rest. I could read some more of the story Id been reading the night before. I’d forgotten where I was upto though, and so started again. I skipped the first part of the first chapter. It wasn’t that I was anti-gay, and to be honest when I read it the first time the imagery did make me stiff, but I remembered that bit well enough and wanted to get to a new part of the story.

I skimmed through the threesome with the room-mate and his girlfriend, and the discovery of powers. It was only after Caleb saved the young guy, who turned out to be a girl, on the roof that he figured out all of his powers.

“So,” I said to myself. “He has Compulsion, TK, Empathy and Telepathy.” I laughed to myself. “I wish,” I said.

I glanced up at the sudden brightness in the room. The day was grey and it had seemed almost for a second that the sun had come out. I looked out of the window. Nope, still grey and miserable. I shrugged and went back to the story.

An hour later, I’d reached the end of the chapters that were available on the free site.

“Damn,” I said. “I checked the writer’s profile to see if there were other chapters posted anywhere else. I saw three other free sites and a Patreon.

“Greedy fucker,” I said, before logging into one of the other free sites delighted to see that there were another two chapters available. I read those.

I checked out the other free sites as well, but found that they too only had the two extra chapters I had just read. I wanted more.

“Let’s go see how much the greedy fucker wants,” I said to myself, and clicked on the link to the patreon site.

“So,” I thought, “for a quid a month I get an extra one chapter for three quid two chapters and for a fiver three.”

“I’ll just go the quid. It’s not much.”

I clicked on the join tab and began filling in the membership form. When it came to bank card details, I looked across at the table by the door, where I had dropped my wallet when I had stripped off my wet clothes. I was comfortable and my arse didn’t hurt. I knew that as soon as I moved, that would change.

“Shame I don’t have Caleb’s power,” I said out loud. “Otherwise, I could...”

I reached out with my hand and imagined my wallet flying across the room and into my outstretched palm.

The slap of the leather hitting my hand, caused me to squeak in shock.

I sat, motionless, my hand still in the air, holding my wallet. That couldn’t have just happened. I must be dreaming. That was it, I’d fallen asleep reading the story and was dreaming.

I went to get up, and jolt of pain ran through my arse cheek. Since I didn’t wake up, I figured that that theory was wrong.

Distracted by my pain for a moment, I once again tried to look at my arse. I could see the edge of a blue-black bruise starting to form and wondered if I had actually done any damage. “Perhaps,” I thought, “I should go and get checked out.”

For an instant, I considered ringing an ambulance, but knew I’d be waiting for hours. I didn’t need a full A&E – probably a minor injuries clinic would be enough.

Sighing at the cost, I called a taxi to take me to the local minor injuries unit.

I pulled on some joggers, and a T-Shirt, picked up my keys and wallet and putting on a jacket that wasn’t really any good in the rain, since my coat was still soaked, hobbled down to meet it.

The taxi pulled up just as I got to the pavement. “Mike?” the driver said, and I nodded getting gingerly into the back seat.

“Where we going?” asked the driver.

“Minor injuries,” I answered

The driver set off.

“Put you fucking seatbelt on dickhead,” The driver said.

“Pardon?” I responded shocked.

“Sorry?” said the driver.

“You said something?” I asked.

“No – didn’t say a thing.” said the driver.

I watched the drivers face in the rear-view.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” asked the driver. But his lips didn’t move.

“This can’t be happening,” I thought. “First my wallet, Now I’m hearing things.”

I remembered the story “TK and Telepathy,” I thought. “I can’t have.”

I sat and listened to a litany of complaints and observations as the driver drove to the minor injuries unit. All the time, surreptitiously watching the driver’s mouth, which never moved.

“That’s twelve quid,” said the Driver. I decided to try my luck and imagined that the driver was actually going to pay ME for the journey.

“Oh right,” said the driver pulling out his wallet. He handed me a ten and a five.

“Keep the change.” The driver said. I thanked him and got out of the taxi. The taxi drove off.

I stared at the money in my hand, then grinned to myself. This was going to be fun.

When I walked into the minor injuries unit, I was hit with a deluge of noise. I winced. People were moaning both mentally and physically. One woman was mentally screaming in pain, some kids were arguing verbally while their parents were mentally screaming at them to shut the fuck up.

It was almost overwhelming. I staggered back outside, wondering what to do. Then I remembered the story, how Caleb had created a shield that not only protected him from other power users, but also cut out all the extraneous noise. I imagined such a shield being in place, and walked back into the unit. The noise was still there, but it was much quieter. I tweaked the shield a little and it was all gone. I grinned again.

There was a queue at the reception, and I stood, waiting my turn. There was one old man in front of me. I wondered what was wrong with him. I looked at the man, and tried to look inside his head. Nothing happened. I imagined that I could read the old man’s thoughts, and know his secrets.

I wished I hadn’t

Apparently the old man had been masturbating, using one of his, now dead, wife’s dildos up his arse. He’d lost his grip on it, and it had disappeared up inside him. He was here to get it removed. This wasn’t the first time.

I retched at the mental image, and imagined that the dildo, would slide out of the old man, and down his trouser leg.

The old man grunted, and there was a clatter and a buzzing noise as the vibrating dildo did just that.

The old man jumped, scooped up the dildo and, red faced, scuttled for the exit. I grinned. Helping people was so much fun.

I got to the counter.

“Name,” said the receptionist. She didn’t even look at him.

“Michael Hunt,” I said. She looked up at me scepticism written all over her face.

“No,” I said, “Really. My parents were clueless.”

She looked into my eyes for a second.

She tapped keys on her computer.

“Where is your injury?”

I closed my eyes. I would have to be very careful how I worded this, or I might get thrown out.

“My hip,” I said. “I was clipped by a car, I think its door mirror hit me.”

She took some more details and directed me to some hard chairs. I elected to stand. Standing was uncomfortable, sitting on one of those chairs would be agony.

I was tempted to try and use my new-found powers to jump the queue but didn’t quite know how to go about it. Getting the triage nurse to call my name next would be simple enough, but what then. When I got into the room and she had the records for another patient? That seemed complicated. So I waited.

An hour and a half later, the triage nurse came out into the waiting room, and with a look on her face that said she didn’t expect anyone to answer called.

“Michael Hunt.” Several people sniggered.

“Here,” I said limping across to her. She looked surprised, then she smiled at me.

“This way Mr. Hunt.” She said and led me into the triage room.

I watched her as she went. She looked about twenty five years old. Slim with a tight arse. From what I could see under her hat, she had dark hair. When we got inside the room, and she turned to me once again, I saw she had cute cupid bow lips, blue eyes and smallish breasts.

“So,” she said, “What happened to you?”

I explained about the car, the old lady and getting hit by the mirror.

“May I see?” she asked. I blushed a little but stood, and dropped my trousers, turning so she could see the bruise on my arse.

“Nasty,” she said, “but the fact that you walked in here makes me think that it’s just a soft tissue injury. If you had broken anything in there, it’s doubtful that you would be able to walk. I’m going to send you for an x-ray just in case though.”

I turned to face her while she was talking, my trousers still lowered. She was, sitting on a chair, her face just about level with my cock. An image jumped into my mind, unbidden, of her cupid bow lips wrapped around my dick, sucking me for all she was worth, until I unloaded down her throat.

My cock responded to that image, becoming hard almost immediately. She, looked up at me, her blue eyes shining before reaching up, pulling the front of my underpants over my now erect penis, and taking me in her mouth, all the way down to the root.

“Wha...” I began as she bobbed up and down on me, gloved hands working on my shaft and balls, determined to extract my cum. I moaned quietly as she swirled her tongue around the head of my cock.

She continued to bob up and down on my manhood, sucking on the outstroke to give maximum stimulation, before teasing my slit with the tip of her tongue and then taking me deep into her throat again. I hadn’t had sex in a long time. My last girlfriend had been nearly a year ago. I hadn’t cum in nearly a week and was truly backed up. This nurse, was expertly sucking me and tugging gently at my balls. The fact she had rubber gloves on seemed to add a level of kink to the whole process and it took almost no time at all for me to reach my peak.

I groaned loudly as I came. She pushed her face right into my belly, taking me down her throat and swallowing over and over, stimulating the head and drinking down my cum. When I finally finished cumming, my knees were weak. She pulled back, cleaning me with her tongue and kissing the tip lightly.

She tucked me back into my underpants.

“Go out of the door, follow the yellow line to X-Ray, she said, as if nothing had happened. When you’re done there, come back and I’ll have a doctor review the images.

I pulled my trousers up and took the card she offered.

The x-ray took little time, I was in and out in less than fifteen minutes. I waited another half hour, before an older man called me into a cubicle.

“Mr. Hunt.” The man confirmed as he entered.

I nodded.

“It’s as the nurse said,” said the Doctor. “There’s no bony injury, but you have a hematoma in the soft tissue of your bottom. Rest and painkillers are all I can offer you I’m afraid. What do you do for a living?”

“I stack shelves in a supermarket,” I said.

“I’d take a week off,” said the doctor. “You can self-certify for upto seven days. The pain and swelling should be settling by then. If not go and see your GP or come back and see us. Do you have painkillers at home?”

“Brufen and paracetamol,” I affirmed.

“Perfect” said the doctor. “Take them as directed on the packet. For the next two days take them regularly. It’s easier to prevent pain than resolve it. After that take as required. Any problems come back and see us. Okay?”

This was an obvious dismissal.

“Great thanks,” I said standing up, and making my way back to the reception. I called a taxi and waited outside for it to arrive.

When I got home, I took another shower, and after getting something to eat, went and sat in the living room. I wanted to read that story again. Not to read about the sex, but to see how Caleb learned to control his powers. There must be more information in there about how he developed and used those powers.

This was what I was looking for.

I devoured the story once more, and tested what I could do. I started, as Caleb had, by trying my TK. I moved stuff around in the flat, lifted the sofa up, becoming distracted for a while at all the shit that was underneath, including a desiccated slice of pizza. I grimaced and cleared all that up. Then I went back to ‘training’ my TK. After a while I started to feel very hungry which tracked against what I’d read, and I went into the kitchen and made myself something else to eat.

While I ate, I went online and subscribed to the advanced level of patreon that the author – a dude called PastMaster had available. I downloaded the next three chapters and read them avidly. I was actually disappointed to find out that there was so much sex in the chapters I’d downloaded. I was no longer interested in a fap story, I wanted details. Then I noticed the discord server, and clicked on the link to join that.

Once joined I logged in and was annoyed when I found that the author was offline. It was just after four in the afternoon, and I supposed that the guy was at work.

Frustrated, I stood up and decided I go for a walk and see what else I could do. I knew I could move stuff with my mind, and get people to do stuff I wanted them to, but what about the Telepathy and the Empathy. What could I do with those?

Limping slightly from the pain in my arse, I walked toward the front door and then had another thought. There was no description of how he’d achieved it but hadn’t Caleb been able to block pain signals?

I thought about that for a few minutes. It sounded like it could be easily done, but I didn’t want to use my powers on myself without a lot more research. Then I had a brainwave.

Going back to my computer, I created my own patreon page. I then posted a single post, welcoming all those who wanted to support me, and set up two membership levels one at fifty pounds per month, and one at one hundred pounds per month.

I would have to get some cards made up, but for now, I printed a couple of sheets of paper, with the link to my patreon site. I then spent a few minutes cutting the paper into pieces. When I was finished, I had about a hundred slips of paper, each with my patreon site on.

I grinned to myself. “Great idea Harold,” I said and limped out of the flat.

As I was locking my flat door, my neighbour, a guy aged about fifty was coming out of his front door. I didn’t even know the guy’s name. We had been on nodding terms since I had moved into the flat almost a year ago, but otherwise we didn’t interact.

I wondered about the guy, and decided to take a look.

Within a minute I knew all about my neighbour. His name was Gary Steed, and he was an auto electrician. He made good money, usually installing devices into new cars at the dealerships. He’d fit dashcams or advanced alarm systems or sound systems, whatever was ordered. When he was not doing that he would be doing diagnostic and remedial work in their workshops. It paid well and as far as Gary was concerned, was easy work.

“Gary,” I said, and Gary looked at me in surprise. I had never spoken to this guy and didn’t think he even knew my name.

“Mike,” I said. “I have something for you.”

I handed Gary a slip of paper, which he took. When he looked at it I imagined that he would immediately go and subscribe to my patreon at the hundred pounds per month level. He’d then forget he’d done it but never notice in future, and should anyone ever question why – he’d defend the subscription.

Gary smiled his thanks at me for the paper, and went back into his flat, presumably to sign up.

I spent a few moments loading the patreon app on my phone and logging in. By the time I’d done that, I’d gotten a notification that my first subscriber had just signed up. I grinned.

I limped down the stairs and onto the street, walking toward the supermarket I worked at. I didn’t walk fast, and listened in on people as I passed them. Every so often, I would hand out a paper slip, by the time I’d gotten to my place of work, I’d already given out over twenty slips. Some I’d imagined joining at the fifty pounds level, but when I could see they could afford more, I got them to join at the one hundred pounds level. It would take a few days, but I could imagine that it wouldn’t take much longer to have a few thousand pounds coming in each month. I considered resigning from the supermarket but decided against. I was going to take the rest of the week off sick in any case. I would see how things panned out.

When I got to the supermarket I was greeted by Tania, she waved at me from her post on the checkout.

“Hi Mike,” she said. “Robert said that you got hurt saving an old lady. My Hero!”

She put her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes at me, as the cartoon character Olive Oyle used to do at Popeye.

I grinned at her. I liked Tania. She was maybe a year or two younger than my 23 years, and had a killer body, tight little arse and the biggest bluest eyes I’d ever seen. I’d tried to pluck up courage to ask her out many times, but had never managed to do it. Now, it seemed, she was going out with one of the guys that worked in the butchers department. That, I decided, was going to change.

I walked the length of the store, heading for the manager’s office. When I got there I knocked and was let in by the store manager Robert.

“How are you doing?” asked Robert, genuine concern on his face.

“I went to the Minor Injuries unit,” I replied. “They said there’s nothing broken but I have a heemathingy in my arse.”

“A haematoma?” asked Robert and I nodded.

“They told me to take a week off,” I told him, “and it should settle.”

Robert sighed. He wasn’t unsympathetic to my plight, but he had a store to run.

“You’ll need a self cert sick note,” he said. “You can pick one up from your doctors reception, then just drop it in any time in the next seven days. If it’s going to be longer, you’ll need a doctor’s note.”