Warning: This story is unsuitable for minors and contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity considered taboo (and illegal) in most (if not all) jurisdictions. If such activity offends you, please DO NOT read any further. I do not condone any illegal activity and stress that this work is fiction, fantasy, and in no way meant to reflect reality. Sexual abuse of minors is a very serious issue and I encourage anyone tempted to engage in such behavior to seek help immediately.
Title: Ant King Last Updated: 1/25/17
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Without further adieu...
Chapter Two
I slipped out of the house shortly after the shower, amazed at what had just occurred. I had jerked off in a shower with a thirteen-year-old boy! My mind was reeling and I had to have a few moments alone to think about how I felt. I suppose that fear of detection would have been the proper response; that the boy would tell his parents or the police or a teacher that the pervy next door neighbor had just invaded his personal space and committed some sort of sex offense! However, I knew, deep down in my gut, that such an outcome would never happen. I sent my commands to the boy as we were drying off not to remember what we had done and I had felt his memories of the event slip away into nothingness. The boy was my drone. He did what I willed him to do.
My euphoria came crashing down when my phone buzzed just as I was entering the house and the text I had been expecting for weeks appeared. It was my mother, telling me that Grandpa Pete had finally passed away. "Damn," I said to the empty house as I sat down into a recliner. "Damn."
I immediately called my mom and gave her my condolences. She was weepy and sad, the loss hitting her hard. Grandpa Pete was a great dude who had been a wonderful father to her and my aunts and uncles. The last few years had been tough, I knew, because his health had declined so rapidly. Over the past few weeks, I had heard through the family, Grandpa Pete had become incredibly ill with the flu and hospice had even been called a few days earlier.
Grandma Betty was apparently holding up but my uncle in South Carolina and my aunt in Louisiana were both on their way to Miami at the moment to be there with her. My mom was trying to figure out her own flights so she could get down and comfort her mom. "Do you want me to fly to Miami too?" I asked, knowing she would probably say that I should wait until the funeral.
"No, honey. I think the funeral will be next weekend, probably, so you should wait. Do you think you can go to it?" She asked, her voice breaking.
"Yeah. Definitely. I'll be there."
We talked for a few more minutes before her sister called in and she switched over. I sat there, stunned, at the loss. For the next several hours, I shuffled around the house, my mind torn between thinking about my new power over the family next door and the loss of my favorite grandparent. I spoke with several other family members during that time, my traveling uncle and aunt included, and, around 6pm, made a decision. Family was important, dammit, and I wanted to be there for mine. Sending out a few emails to the school, I quickly searched for a flight and, finding one that left the local airport within the hour, hurriedly packed and raced to catch my flight.
My puddle-jumper landed in Seattle at 10:37pm and I was the first to disembark, running through the terminal at a breakneck speed to catch my red-eye that left at 11:15pm. I made it, of course, and was standing in line huffing and puffing and dreading the upcoming flight. Seattle to Miami, direct, with no layover, was a bitchin' long time to be in the air. Luckily, it was an overnight flight and I hoped that I might be able to catch a little shut eye. My family was going to be surprised to see me in the morning, I knew, but it would be a welcome, if bittersweet, reunion.
"Ugh," I grunted as a man accidentally bumped into me, our hands touching for just a brief moment. My mind whirled. Adam White was a middle aged accountant who was taking a well deserved vacation to Miami with his eleven-year-old son Charlie. He looked forward to relaxing on the beach and eating the local fare, all while doing absolutely no work and ignoring his pestering clients. He was also now my drone. "Oh, hey Adam," I said automatically, smiling at my unexpected fifth drone.
"Hi Mike. How are you?" he responded causally.
"Great," I said, carefully filing away all the information I knew about the man into the back of my mind. Then I glanced down at his son. The little pre-teen was looking at me and his father. "Hi Charlie. Your dad is a friend of mine. You excited about Miami?" I extended my hand.
"Yeah, it's going to be fun," he said, taking it.
Drone number six.
The three of us chatted for a few minutes as the gate began to open up. Thinking quickly, I had Adam and I approach the agent and explain that we were cousins who bumped into each other and asked if we could change our seating assignments so that we three could sit together. The woman was very kind and did so immediately, telling us that the flight was nearly empty and there was plenty of room.
We boarded shortly there after, with Adam taking the isle seat, me taking the middle, and little Charlie sitting by the window. We were airborne within the hour. I looked around in surprise at the lack of passengers, the plane nearly empty. It was late at night, though, and the few passengers I saw were already settling down to sleep out the flight. The cabin lights were low, the captain had explained the flight was expected to be turbulent free, and the flight attendants had made it clear that these night flights featured little crew-passenger interactions.
Adam fell asleep almost immediately, a combination of his own tiredness and my mental suggestion. Charlie and I spoke in quiet whispers for some time, getting to know each other (though I already knew much about my little drone from our contact) but passing the time with friendly conversation. I could sense Charlie was fading fast around 1am so I lifted the dividing armrest, wrapped a blanked around me and the youngster, and bade the boy to snuggle up close to me. He did so, his head resting lightly on my shoulder.
Looking around, it appeared that the flight attendants were not planning on coming by at any point and none of the other passengers, those very few still awake, were close enough to see anything. Taking a chance, I sent my mental commands to the eleven-year-old who, with minimal fuss, promptly slid his pants and boxers down to his ankles before settling back in a comfortable position. My right hand, under the blanket, crept across his smooth thigh and soon found his immature willy.
Soft and hairless, the boy's cock was a delight to explore and I spent a great deal of time caressing his smooth balls in their silky sack. The boy became hard fairly quickly and I estimated that his member was only a couple of inches long. It appeared, I supposed, that my new little friend had not yet been visited by the puberty fairy. With two fingers sliding gently under his cock-head and my thumb lightly pulling on his shaft, I wanked the little guy for several blissful minutes as he purred silently into my shoulder. Wary of discovery, of course, I ordered the boy not to make any sounds during his molestation and was glad that the only thing that would even hint at what I was doing to his cock was his deep and throaty breathing.
My mind, linked with his, soon realized that unfamiliar feelings were beginning to grow in his little pecker and the boy, his breath coming faster, was nearing what I knew to be his first orgasm. Amazed at how much I could discover through our link, I brought Charlie right to the edge before releasing his throbbing boyhood and gently rubbing up and down his quivering thighs. The pre-teen relaxed, then, his body retreating from the ultimate release. He was confused, I knew, and he had thought privately that he might have been about to piss himself. I grinned. He began to ask me about it but my mind instructed him to be still and quiet.
Grasping the immature tool again, I began to work him back up towards the peak as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his body alive with the new pleasures. I again released him before he climaxed, wanting to prolong the fun. I kept him on edge for half an hour, enjoying the game and reveling in my ability, though our connection, to time my caresses perfectly. Eventually, the boy was a quivering horny mess who was desperate for release.
Instead of giving it to him, I had the lad scoot forward just slightly so my hand could travel down his back and towards his bottom. Confused but obedient, the boy complied. My middle finger soon found his fleshy mounds and began to inch its way between his cheeks, the hot sweaty confines giving my own hard-on a new thrill. Lower and lower my finger squirmed, eventually discovering a bit of flesh that was unlike the rest of the boy's backside. As my finger slid across his puckered anus, the boy let out a gasp of surprise. I smiled, twirling my finger around that virgin entrance and using just enough force to part the opening ever so slightly. Charlie looked at me then, his eyes as big as saucers.
I withdrew my hand, taking a moment to smell the delicious boy-funk on my finger. It was intoxicating. "Let's go." I said quietly, instructing the boy to pull up his pants. We exited the row a few moments later, his father having shifted slightly to let us by, and the two of us hurried back to the bathroom. The flight attendant looked up from her magazine and I whispered "he had a little accident," to her. Understanding, she nodded and went back to her reading as Charlie and I slipped into the stall.
I pulled down my pants and sat down on the toilet, my mental commands already having the boy stripping off his clothes. Soon, the naked little eleven year old was perched on the toilet himself, leaning over my head as I slurped down his tiny prick and teased the hard little nail with my eager tongue. At the same time, I slid my hand up between his now parted cheeks and began to stroke his hot little asshole with gusto, pulling the flesh apart and running my finger along the ass-lips in a rapid circle. The boy wanted to moan but I commanded him not to, pleasuring him with my mouth and finger as my own left hand rapidly stroked my pre-cum covered cock. He was about to cum, I knew, and I gave him permission.
His body buckled but I held him pinned between my head and my right hand, torturing his hairless cock and boypussy as waives of unimaginable pleasure pulsed throughout his skinny frame. He was drunk on pleasure, I knew, as the orgasm tore through him with the force of a tsunami. I came as well, rope after rope covering my hand as I beat off in time with his own shuddering drycum.
We were cleaned up and back in our seats ten minutes later, the boy promptly falling asleep after I commanded him to forget everything that had happened while my own thoughts replayed our tryst over and over again. I think I was starting to really like these new powers.
......
I woke up as we were landing and stretched, feeling cramped but otherwise well. Adam and Charlie were also coming awake and the three of us soon found ourselves departing the terminal, chatting like old friends and basking in the relatively warm Miami weather. "Well, you two have fun on the vacation," I said as we stood next to two waiting cabs. "I'll... ugh... look you up if I have time." Charlie gave me a quick hug and I could feel the boy's excitement through the link at his relatively unformed plans for the vacation. I smiled.
"Sounds good," Adam responded, shaking my hand before he and Charlie loaded their luggage into the cab and sped off toward their hotel. My cab left moments later, heading towards my grandmother's house, and I put my new friends to the back of my mind as I focused on the next few hours and the reception I was going to receive when I pulled up unexpectedly.
A thought had crossed my mind as I was getting of the plane earlier and the long drive to my grandmothers house gave me time to consider it. When I showed up, I knew I was going to get lots of hugs and pats on the back and kisses to the cheeks from the various relatives whom had already arrived. Since I had first touched Tony, I had taken care not to touch anyone else unless it was deliberate. Indeed, I had only touched five other people since shaking Tony's hand approximately forty-eight hours earlier. Knowing that I was about to touch many other people, I had to wonder if the gift I'd been given would be able to handle so many drones being added in such a short time to my... what... colony? My instincts said there would be no problem. Indeed, I had six drones already in the back of my mind and those six felt no different from when I had only had four or even when I only had Tony. Still, it was an unknown that made me somewhat nervous.
My worries were for not. My grandmother's screen door was already open when I arrived at her home and, after announcing myself, I was swarmed by two aunts, an uncle, two cousin's in their twenties who lived in south Florida, several of my grandparents elderly friends, the next door neighbor couple who had helped take care of my grandfather over the previous few weeks, and my startled but incredibly grateful grandmother. My mother arrived several hours later, as did a second uncle and a few other adult cousins. By the end of the night, my colony had grown to twenty drones and I knew, as I closed my eyes to sleep, it could grow much much bigger.
My grandfathers funeral was five days later and was a solemn and dignified affair. I was asked to be an usher and I think my mother was very happy that I was able to be part of sending my grandfather off. She fussed at me quite a bit when she realized I had taken the entire week off from school but I quickly put a stop to that with a few deft mental commands. Having family members as drones was no different than having non-family members as drones and I found rather quickly that the ability to command my blood relations did not in any way pose a moral or ethical dilemma for me. They all belonged to me, I realized, and I could do as I please with them.
I didn't engage in any hanky-panky during the week because I felt emotionally drained by the loss of my grandfather. Truthfully, the tryst with the boy on the plane, Charlie, happened before the real emotional impact of the death had hit me and I spend the entire week consoling family members and being consoled in return. I did think about my powers quite a bit, though, and came to the conclusion that I did not need to be careful as to whom I turned into a drone. By the time the funeral was over, I had over one hundred fifty drones in my colony. Nothing felt different when someone was added and I knew, deep down, that there was no limitation as to how many I could turn into my drones.
My flight was supposed to board at 5:45pm that Sunday and I, being a good and experienced traveler, found myself sitting at the gate and ready to go by 4:30pm. For some reason, though, I was in a terrible mood. I'd been in a terrible mood all day. Taking stock, I knew I was mad and anxious and sad. I'd never had much difficulty with self evaluation and, after reviewing my emotional state, chalked up my feelings to the fact that we had buried my grandfather the previous day. As the clock slowly marched forward, though, I found myself absolutely dreading the flight. I couldn't figure out why. By 5pm, I was pacing the terminal. By 5:30, I was leaving the airport.
You see, I had had an epiphany that day in the airport. A profound change to my worldview which, perhaps more than anything else, nudged my life onto it's current path. My anger and fear and anxiety had nothing to do with my grandfather nor with the outbound flight. It had, instead, to do with my subconscious desire to abandon the road before me. My schooling in chemistry. A job with a pharmaceutical company. My small circle of friends. My confined and narrow dreams.
I possessed power! The power to make any I touched into my drones! I could walk up to a complete stranger, touch them, and have them hand over their life savings without a second thought. I didn't need school! I didn't need a job! I could "do" whatever I liked. I was free! More free than anyone in the history of the world. I faced no barriers!
I knew, then and there, that I wasn't going back to school. I wasn't going back to my previous life. Mulling over my options, I decided the first thing I needed was a source of money. That would be the most immediate necessity. Once I had secured an income, I would take a little vacation, relax, and think about what my future plans might entail.
"What's the wealthiest neighborhood you know of?" I asked a cabbie outside just after I touched him.
"Well, sir, there are some private neighborhoods just north of the city along the beach. Lots of money there." he responded. "Can't get in unless the guard buzzes you through, though."
"Take me."
Almost an hour later (thanks Miami traffic), we pulled up to a gated community right on the water and I could see huge homes doting the horizon. My cabbie dropped me off in front of the security guard stand and I approached the sitting guard with confidence.
"Can I help you?" he said, his bored tone suggesting he had to turn away people regularly.
"You can," I said as I reached out and touched him quickly. He smiled and radioed his partner to come pick me up.
I touched that man when he arrived and the two of us were soon driving along the winding private streets in his golf cart. The homes were hard to believe. Being from Wyoming and a middle class family at that, I had never seen this sort of wealth anywhere. Large McMansions, probably worth millions of dollars each, and only steps away from the beach as well! Amazing!
"So who is the worst person here? The person who is super wealthy but also a giant asshole?" I said to the guard.
"Mr. O'Malley, for sure." He said almost immediately.
I laughed at the quick response. "Why's that?"
As we drove on towards Mr. O'Malley's house, the guard filled me in on all the real and outrageous insults, most of which were racist in origin, the old man had visited upon the guards, gardeners, maids, delivery men, and any other unfortunate soul to cross his path. By the time we arrived at the old man's house, I decided he would be perfect. The guard, Ricky, took me to the front door and rang the door bell. A few moments later, Mr. O'Malley, a crotchety man in his early sixties, opened it. "What the fuck do you want?" he said to the guard, not even looking over at me. "You fucking Cubans think that..."
I jumped forward and touched the old man before his tirade could get going. Then I smiled at Ricky, dismissed him, and went inside to make myself comfortable.