The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Zak’s Foundation”

by “URN My Power

Chapter 2

Abigail Xu stormed out of the field house, her long, black hair streaming behind her like a war banner from beneath her mortarboard. Her now-ex-boyfriend would remember what she’d done with his senior ring for the rest of his days. Ever since he’d fallen in with those rednecks, he’d been treating her like dirt because she was Asian. Today had been the last straw. Selling copies of a secretly-made video of her giving him her virginity the year before after the junior prom on the internet was bad enough, but referring to her as...THAT...in the title...

She roared with rage and punched at the air. The feeling was only now beginning to come back in her right hand, and it was starting to sting. She ran into Howard Farrell on her way to the parking lot—literally. The two bounced off each other like giant rubber balls and ended up on the concrete.

“Watch where you’re going!” she snarled.

“Sorry, Abs.” he said, picking himself up. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me I missed the ceremony!”

“No.” Abby said snarkily. “You can have your precious ceremony.” He touched her hand and she yelped. She must have hit her ex harder than she’d thought.

“No wonder you’re so grumpy, this must be agony.” he said, gently examining her swelling hand. She cried out in pain as she felt something move. He wrapped her hand in both of his and closed his eyes. She felt the movement again, but it wasn’t accompanied by the stabbing pain this time. When he released her hand at last, the swelling was already beginning to recede.

“What did you do?” she asked, looking at her now-healed hand.

“I was about to ask you the same question.” he responded. Her face soured. His hand caressed her cheek, and on the second stroke he touched her temple—and her mind.

“I punched out that redneck...He’d made a video of us at the junior prom when I gave up my virginity, and he’d been selling copies of it on the Internet for a few months. My brother found clips from it on Haporn dot com.” Howard gathered her into his arms, and she began to cry.

“I don’t blame you for punching him.”

“That’s not even the worst part!” she sobbed. “In the title...he used...a slur!” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat what it was, and he didn’t ask, but she felt him stiffen, his embrace strengthen, and a reflection of her own earlier rage build within him. He held her at arms’ length and wiped away her tears.

“You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of letting him drive you away from your own graduation.” he said, and she felt strength flowing into her, making her feel a little silly for wanting to run away. They walked back onto the football field together and stayed that way until they got to her assigned seat in the back (since her last name began with an X). Even though he was all the way down with the F’s, she could feel him as if he were sitting next to her instead of Jamie Wyatt and Phil Yachtsman. The ceremony proceeded almost as planned—when her ex’s name came up, she learned that he had not regained consciousness yet. She took a measure of satisfaction from that, but put it out of her mind as the names continued to be read from the alphabetical list. Not long after she got her own diploma, the ceremony was over, and they were all tossing their caps into the air. Then, Howard was there, and they were hugging. Later, she didn’t know whether he kissed her or she kissed him, but their lips were pressing together and her crotch was grinding against his leg, and she didn’t care who saw. The time in between was a blur of emotions and hormones, but she found herself in a hotel room with him, and their gowns were on the floor along with the clothes they’d worn under them.

“No cameras, I promise.” he whispered, and she found that hilarious for some reason. Then, she was guiding him inside her. He was bigger than...she pushed that thought out of her mind. He was big. He filled her easily. Their minds were linked more deeply than surface thoughts. His memories were an open book to her, as hers were to him. His pleasure amplified hers, hers amplified his, and they both found release as one, in an explosion of ecstasy that left both unconscious.

She was awakened by the smell of breakfast. Opening her eyes, she found that he’d gotten a hotel room with a kitchen. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, sausage and more added their delectable perfume to the scent of last night’s lovemaking.

“Lovemaking,” she thought to herself, not “fucking” or “humping” or “doing it.” She was amazed at how quickly her life had turned around, and for the better. Howard was humming the Mighty Mouse theme song as he poured orange juice for both of them.

They made love again after breakfast, this time with her on top, his hands guiding her hips. She was aware of what he was doing as he induced an ovulation, and for the first time in her life, the thought of being pregnant brought joy, not dread. They lay side-by-side, catching their breath, and she visualized what she would look like, swollen with child.

“One more thing, Abs.” he whispered.

“Yes,” she agreed, and closed her eyes, letting his finger touch her forehead, letting consciousness fade away as she was evolved.

* * *

“You do know she’s just gonna grow into a dorky little sister who follows you around everywhere, right?” Whitney asked.

“They tame easier if you catch ‘em young.” Penelope responded, looking up from little Orchid with a smile. Orchid was Victor’s daughter by Kim Kahn and the oldest of the new generation. Whitney rolled her eyes. “Besides, I never had a sister. Or a brother either, for that matter.”

“You’re not missing much.” Whitney responded. She was Penelope’s age and a Halle Berry wannabe, but she had too much jaw for her face and too little in the breast department. Nevertheless, she didn’t back down when Penelope asked for a little help with her rather strange family. Right now, she was feeding Julia, Marie’s baby, from a bottle. In one corner, their friend Millie was thoroughly enchanted by Desiree’s twin boys, while Margarita “Speedy” Gonzales, the junior-high track star, fed Inet’s little boy, Alexander.

Penelope draped a towel over her shoulder and expertly shifted Orchid to that same shoulder. When the baby burped, what milk escaped ended up on the towel, not on Penelope’s shirt. The others emulated her, sparing themselves a stained set of shirts.

“Thanks for the help, kids, we’ll take it from here!” Kim said from the doorway as she entered with the rest of Victor’s breeding-circle. Those who hadn’t yet given birth to children of their own helped the others. Kim passed out twenty-dollar bills and told the youngsters to go have some fun. They took a special private elevator to the employee parking garage, where they met Arnold and two of his recently-graduated former trainees. There was D.J., nephew of the late, lamented Mr. Andersen, and Shane MacDuff, a veteran of the first Gulf War who had gotten a Purple Heart after taking a bullet meant for a Kuwaiti official. It was Shane who was assigned as their driver for the afternoon, much to the girls’ delight—he was so easy, it was almost as if Penelope’s friends had mind-control powers as well.

“Later, Arnie.” Penelope said, drawing the tall, dark ex-Secret Service agent down to her level by his tie so she could kiss him on the cheek. “And one for your wife.” she added, kissing him on the other cheek.

She had learned to enjoy life again with help from her family, and had reconnected with her old friends. Her growing ability to foresee the future had helped immensely—she could see an optimum future and what steps were needed to keep herself and her loved ones on the track to that future. She was still young, however, and not above using it to predict when a teacher would give a pop quiz, just as Inet, her adopted mother, used hers to anticipate Victor’s needs or to help raise funds for the Foundation with the occasional trip to Vegas.

Shane drove them to the theater for a movie, then to Long John Silver’s for dinner. Everything was going fine until they left the restaurant. Penelope and Shane sensed a shielded mind tailing them. Penelope took advantage of the evening traffic to shuffle drivers around the enemy car with subtle mental nudges until their tail had a quarter-mile coating of cars in both directions, the nearest ones to it being large, powerful trucks, and was forced into the center lane. Shane took the Waco Drive exit while Penelope forced the tail to remain on the road they had just left until the cars were far enough away that they couldn’t possibly catch up before all of Penelope’s friends had been dropped off at their homes.

“Later, Penelope!” the girls said as they each got out.

“Later!” she responded. She slipped into the front seat once her friends were safe. “Okay, Shane, do your stuff.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he responded. Shielded minds appeared in a different car as soon as they hit Franklin Avenue.

“These guys don’t learn, do they?” Penelope remarked. “Keep it to two miles over the speed limit.”

“Two?” Shane asked, but complied anyway. They took the usual exit and blew through a yellow light. Their tail was so intent on following them that it was unable to stop before plowing into a truck hauling concrete patio furniture. Penelope and Shane pulled over and ran quickly to the scene of the accident. Just as Penelope had known, the two agents in the car were knocked out, but alive. She reached into their mouths and pulled out their cyanide caps, wrapping them in a Kleenex and giving them to Shane, who pocketed them before shouldering the agents and putting them in the back of the car.

“Nice work, Shane.” she said, patting the vet on the shoulder as they drove away.

* * *

Howard was supervising Abby and Teddy in telekinesis practice when the phone rang. “Hello, Howard.” Victor said when the younger man picked up the phone. “Would you come down to the infirmary?”

“Uh, sure.” he replied.

“All right, see you soon.” Victor’s voice said, quickly followed by a click.

“Not much for phone etiquette, is he?” Teddy asked, looking up from the 3D maze she was working. The BB she was manipulating fell onto a ledge in the middle.

“You’re not supposed to let it touch.” Abby said. “Now you have to start aaaaaaaaalll over again.”

“Behave, you two, I have to see what the boss wants.” Howard said as Teddy pouted.

“Can we misbehave when you get back?” Teddy asked with a wink.

“I think you’re due a little misbehaving.” Howard replied. “You’re both coming along great, by the way.” He kissed each of them in turn and walked out with a wave. The infirmary was in the third sub-basement. He found Victor waiting for him between two occupied beds. On the way, he said hello to Mirisynt, Zak’s mate, who was watching over her quadruplets. He remembered Victor telling him that her species had been enslaved and bred for docility, which had resulted in a decrease in their physical stature and an increase in litter size—it didn’t take a genius to figure out that that was a bad combination. Were it not for the near-miraculous healing powers at Zak’s disposal, she would very likely have died. It was a sobering thought.

“Howard!” Victor called, beckoning him over to the beds.

“Sorry, gotta go.” he whispered to Mirisynt, who smiled and waved him on his way. Howard looked at the occupants of the beds, but there was nothing familiar about them. They both had military haircuts, however. “Who are they?” he asked.

“Enemy agents.” Victor said. “We managed to remove their psi-blocking chips without killing them.”

“What about their cyanide caps?” Howard asked.

“Penelope removed those when she and Shane pulled them out of their wrecked car.”

“No innocent bystanders got hurt, did they?” Howard asked.

“No, Penelope timed it perfectly so that the agents hit the bed of the truck, not the cab.” Victor responded with a smile. Howard heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ve sent a check to the truck’s owner and to the guy who was supposed to get those concrete picnic tables. But it’s not often we get to scan an enemy agent. It’s time you got some practical experience. You take that one.”

Howard reached out his hand and touched the forehead of his subject—a bodybuilder-type with a jaw like an icebreaker. Both subjects were strapped down and heavily sedated. It took Howard a while to break through the fog of the drugs. When he did, he found a mind that followed orders, didn’t ask questions, and trained itself to hate whoever he was told was his enemy with a passion akin to holy war. His name was Sigmund von Braun, and he was trained to hate telepaths. Howard pushed aside the hatred and delved deeper, finding mission specifics for Penelope’s capture as well as every other mission the man had been involved in. He found the locations of sixteen minor bases in Texas, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Louisiana and New Mexico, four major bases in the latter four states and the names and faces of his immediate superiors. He pulled out and relayed the pertinent information to Victor, who in turn shared what he had learned from the other. There was a lot of overlap between them, but together the two knew the locations of twenty-five bases. Howard closed his eyes and cleared his mind of Sigmund’s personality residue, just as he’d been taught. Struck with inspiration, he dove back in and flipped a few mental switches.

“What was that?” Victor asked.

“This guy’s a career soldier, he doesn’t ask questions, he just takes out the target. I just changed the target, that’s all.” Howard responded. Victor came over to examine Howard’s handiwork.

“Subtle, you’re learning.” Victor said. “Now, let’s see what you can do with the other one.”

* * *

Yoshiko’s eyes snapped open as she noticed strange holes in her mental perception. Taking up her swords, she rose from her meditative position and rushed outside to alert her fellow ninjas—but then, those with any talent were already aware of the threat; she was just the first out of her house. Helicopters circled the village, launching gas grenades at the temple. Man, woman, child, the gas claimed them indiscriminately. Humanoid shapes descended with the aid of jet packs, landing at the very doors of the temple. She called the ones who had the necessary skill, and they moved as swiftly and silently as a falcon’s shadow in the temple’s direction. Putting barriers around themselves, they created envelopes of breathable air to sustain them in the wicked miasma, which the circling helicopters kept concentrated in the vicinity of the temple. Enemy agents fell to pieces before Yoshiko’s blade, but the one she truly sought launched himself through the temple roof, carrying the clan’s treasure aloft with him. Just like that, the helicopters were gone.

“If this message has been activated, then your sacred crystal has been taken hostage.” said a voice. Yoshiko glared at the recording device sitting in the crystal’s exalted place. “Do not attempt to recover it directly, or the container in which it has been placed will be detonated with sufficient force to destroy the crystal and whoever is sent to enact the recovery. It will be stored aboard a top-secret satellite until you have completed our task: Eliminate Victor Phillips.” Yoshiko’s blade cleaved the recording device and the crystal’s violated pedestal. She exited the temple in shame. Looking around, she found that almost half of the village had succumbed to the gas once it was free to spread out from the temple.

“Yoshiko! What do we do?” asked Kaede, pulling the mask off her face.

“We have no choice. If we are to recover the sacred crystal, we must kill the target they have set before us.” Yoshiko said. “Once we have it back, we will take our revenge. No one holds our treasure for ransom and lives!”

“Yoshiko!” a young voice called. The clan’s most skilled ninja and most accomplished practitioner of the fading art of combat-meditation turned to find its youngest, little Kagome, hopping in her direction and trying to get her left shoe on. “I’m coming!”

“Kagome...” Yoshiko began.

“Yoshiko, I’m coming.” the little girl responded. “I have to.”

“You can’t. There’s no room for children on this mission.”

“Yoshiko, you remember when I told you about my hunches? How they only happen when it’s really important? Like when I decided to go pick herbs the day Fuji’s baby came, and the herbs I brought were the very ones the healer needed to cure the infection she caught? Last night, I felt I had to sleep in a tree, and then this morning the gaijin came and used a gas that sticks to the ground. Well, now I’ve got a feeling I have to come with you.”

Yoshiko sighed. Kagome was very young, not even ten, but already she had a burgeoning precognitive ability that manifested as strong hunches. Only recently had she begun to have conscious awareness of them so that it did not seem quite as much like the whims of a child. One day, she would be able to predict a foe’s attacks before they had even formulated them, but for now...

“Fine.” Yoshiko said. “Kaede, gather the best of whoever’s left.”

“Any hunches about who we should take, ‘Gome?” Kaede asked.

“Everyone we can.” Kagome responded. Soon, twenty ninjas had assembled at the edge of the village—twelve males, eight females. Kagome shed a tear as she cast a final look at the village of her birth, those who could not fight preparing to bury the dead. Then she rushed to catch up with the others.

* * *

Mirisynt opened one eye as the door to the infirmary opened. Her Master, mate and father of her children came in, embracing her mentally until he was close enough to do so physically.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” he said.

“I’m not.” she said, snuggling her head into his chest and under his chin. Her voice trilled with pleasure at his presence, and her eyes shone in the dim light of the room. The maternal mortality rate for Krei’i was close to forty-five percent, but when she looked at their little ones, she felt it was worth the risk. With careful incubation after the Caesarian section, the little ones had grown strong. Their nostril slits were concealed by snow-white hair that would darken to cobalt blue before the end of their first year. Other than that, they looked a lot like the dominant life form of the planet they were inhabiting at the moment, at least as long as no one looked too closely at their hands.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better every day, Master.” she said, kissing him. She felt him touch her mind and allowed her love for him and the happiness she felt in his presence to flow across the link. His hands roamed over her body for several minutes. He slipped his hand through the disinfecting force-field around the incubators to caress the infants—two males and two females—before he curled up beside Mirisynt, who lay her head on his chest to listen to his hearts beat until the sound lulled her back to sleep. Technically, they had quarters elsewhere, but Mirisynt was unwilling to leave their offspring, and Zak was unwilling to press the issue lest she think it was an order. The rare moments together were a treasure to be savored.

* * *

Howard watched as Paco Hernandez escorted his sheep across the gauntlet. Today’s exercise was one that was familiar to the trainees—Howard, Paco, Maximillion Maxwell, also called Max-Max, Bishop Castaway and Damon Masters. The object was to safely escort a sheep from one side of the training area to the other while under heavy fire from automated guns. This time around, however, they wouldn’t be able to simply put up a barrier and compel the sheep forward. This time, the trainees had to catch the bullets with their mind and send them back to the gun that fired them, “killing the sniper,” and the sheep was mentally shielded to prevent any telepathic assistance. Zak assured the trainees that this was similar to the training received by telekinetics on his own world, except the sheep were not quite as skittish as an Aldebaran y’Ichu like the ones his people imported for the purpose. Howard was glad his run was over. He’d had to chase down his frightened sheep twice and herd it back in the right direction because of two robotic rodeo clowns whose presence hadn’t been in the briefing. Worse, his telekinetic abilities hadn’t worked on the clowns because they were shielded somehow—so Howard had had to use nearby rubble to take them out, and used up his entire allotment of carrots to lure the sheep where it needed to be taken.

Paco was almost as frightened of the clowns as the sheep was. Watching from the shielded observation area so they couldn’t help him, they saw Paco run off in one direction, the sheep in the opposite one, and neither of them got any closer to their objective.

“We’ll have to address that phobia of his.” rumbled Arnold Turner, rising to his feet and turning off the guns. The sheep rushed headlong into its pen and tried to get into the center of the flock.

“I thought that was just a cartoon thing.” Max-Max murmured.

“Maybe it was the fact that you put the robots in clown fright masks instead of nice clown masks.” Bishop suggested. “Oh, jeez, he’s crying!” Looking out the window once more, Howard saw Paco hiding in a cul-de-sac of simulated wreckage, his face in his hands and his shoulders shaking. He walked out of the booth—which he felt was allowed since the simulation was over—and sought out the young Hispanic. He deliberately placed himself between Paco and the viewing booth.

“I’m such a pussy!” Paco said.

“Is an acrophobe a pussy because he refuses to walk on a rickety bridge over a boiling lake of lava?” Howard asked. “Come on, quit crying, the others are laughing.” He extended his hand. Paco wiped his eyes on his sleeve and took the hand, with which Howard helped him to stand, and the two left the training area together, with Howard still keeping himself between the observation area and Paco.

“I’m gonna have to beat this.” Paco said.

“Yeah, but I’m here if you need a spotter.” Howard replied.

“What a lame fear to have, though. I mean, I faced down the gang that killed my family, I survived on my own with INS agents on my tail for two months, and I run crying from a couple of robots in clown masks!”

“Phobias are irrational by nature, Paco.” said Victor, who met them at the door to Paco’s room. “But you are right about one thing: you will have to beat this. The enemy is willing to slave telepaths to machines, they may find out about your little Achilles’ heel.”

We could try desensitizing him with hookers. suggested Howard mentally, adding an image of a ridiculously heavily made-up trollop.

Later for that, Victor responded, let him recover from the latest experience first. Howard nodded, and they let Paco go into his room, where a nude Hispanic girl lay napping on top of the covers. Victor took charge of Howard, leading him to the elevator. They went to the roof, where a shuttlecraft was waiting.

“Are we going somewhere?” Howard asked.

“Intel indicates that GOLEM has launched a satellite into orbit bearing one of their boom-boxes.” Victor said. “GOLEM” was the Government Office for the Licensing and Education of Metahumans—a branch of the wider conspiracy to place all superhuman power under the direct control of the U.S. government. “We’re going to see what’s in it.”

“I think Penelope’s been a bad influence on you, sir,” Howard said jokingly, “you’ve started to see the word ‘Classified’ as a challenge.”

“It’s a survival instinct you’ll pick up with time, Howard.” Victor said, leading Howard up the ramp, which closed quickly behind them. They strapped themselves in, and the cloaking device was activated. Inertial dampers made the ascent smooth for the passengers. The blue sky faded to black in the view ports, and Howard swallowed as he got a clear view of the stars, impeded only by the “transparent titanium” of the porthole. Sitting at the communications seat, it was Howard’s job to lock into the satellite’s signal—there was only one GOLEM satellite in orbit that didn’t appear in their database, identified by the encryption protocols in use in its transmissions, more advanced than usual for an Earth satellite and not an encryption in use by the Foundation—and relay coordinates to Victor and Zak.

“There’s what appears to be a cancel-code being beamed to the satellite.” Howard said. “The interval varies between thirty and ninety seconds. The code is the same with each repeat, I can duplicate the signal with no problem, but the varying interval is probably on purpose. Oh...it’s the Van Blanc pattern!” Schultz Van Blanc had been one of the scientists behind Project: Zebulon, a secret government project to create real-life Terminators for military use, and the Van Blanc pattern was a mathematical formula used to time the infiltrators’ eye-blinks to make them seem random. The Van Blanc pattern was well known to the Foundation because one of its members was a rebel Zebulon infiltrator, which had been disguised as a fourteen-year-old boy for a greater illusion of harmlessness. Now that Howard had the pattern pinned down, he could send cancel-codes himself and have them be accepted by the satellite. Whatever was aboard must be very important for them to put it on a satellite that was rigged to explode if they stopped sending a cancel-code at pre-determined times.

“Howard, switch all controls to Zak’s console and come with me.” Victor said.

“Uh...” Howard began.

“Go on.” Zak said. “Those things are designed for human fingers, and mine just aren’t nimble enough. I’m picking up psi-inhibitor emissions, so you won’t be able to use your powers within five hundred meters of the satellite.”

“Oh...okay.” Howard said. Chill, Howard! You’ve trained for this! He hadn’t expected to get field experience so soon, however. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, forcing his nervousness into a mental compartment as he’d been taught. He went to the airlock and suited up by the numbers. Victor nodded his approval after they’d both checked each other’s seals, and the lock was depressurized slowly, so that the suits’ pressure alarms would go off before lethal depressurization occurred if they had both missed something. Howard walked out on the hull, magnetic boots giving him grip, until he could see the satellite, with which the shuttle had synchronized orbits.

“Stay close, Howard.” Victor said over his suit mic. He turned off his magnetic boots and thumbed the toggles on his EMU (Extravehicular Maneuvering Unit), firing a brief jet of gas to get himself going. Howard followed suit, and soon the satellite was growing larger in his faceplate. With the difficulties of depth-perception in vacuum, they found themselves glad for their laser range-finders. Howard had to calm his breathing once he had a firm handhold on the satellite. “The interior’s pressurized.” Victor said, consulting his arm-mounted scanner. “Depressurizing it may be a trigger for the self-destruct. We’ll have to disarm the explosives before we try to get at the contents.” Howard couldn’t see Victor, but he imagined he heard a smile in the man’s voice when he spoke next. “Nervous?”

“Oh, no!” Howard responded. “We’re hanging onto a flying bomb miles above Earth’s surface with our powers jammed, about to steal another bomb which is protecting a cargo about which we know precisely dick. What’s to be nervous about? Oh, hey, I can see my parents’ house from here!” Victor laughed.

“Well, at least we’re in Foundation pressure-suits based on I!kajij designs instead of NASA spacesuits. These are made of sterner stuff.” They set to work. The disarming was almost routine. Once it was done, Victor had Howard get on the opposite side of the satellite. They lasered holes in the device’s hull simultaneously, so that the jets of escaping air wouldn’t send the satellite careening out of control. Only when the compartment was completely empty did they dare to open it. They grappled onto each end of the bright-yellow box and made a synchronized return to the shuttle, whose airlock lights were their only beacon of safety. The boom-box was placed in a special shielded compartment in case it should detonate before they got back to Earth, and the two enhanced humans unsuited once the airlock was repressurized. They returned to their stations and returned to Earth.

Howard was there as the boom-box’s computer was hacked and the latches opened. Zak, in alien bomb-squad armor, reached in and pulled out a turquoise crystal cluster the size of a human head and shaped like a crown of thorns. His soft exclamation of wonder indicated that he knew what it was—other than pretty.

“What is it?” the young man asked.

“This is a Yocelynese comm crystal!” he said, as if it were a Faberge egg.

“O...kay.” Howard said.

“Sorry. The Yocelynese were an advanced race who evolved into beings of pure thought a few hundred Earth years ago, leaving their technology behind, but these crystals have proven difficult for us to duplicate. I’ve never seen one in such excellent condition. Most bear the scars of unfortunately-destructive experimentation.”

“Why would GOLEM launch that into space?” Howard asked.

“Um...I’m sensing psychic residue of devotion around it which, combined with the smell of incense, would seem to indicate that it was a sacred relic for some religious group. My guess would be the Yocelynese visited Earth sometime in the past and left this behind. The humans have taken excellent care of it. There’s also a slight whiff of something else which I suspect may be toxic to humans.”

“So maybe GOLEM used poison gas to steal this from the culties?” Howard asked.

“It’s easier to believe in a god you can see than one you have to take on faith, my young friend, and even my powers would seem godlike to some pre-industrial cultures...especially if I put some effort into it. The Yocelynese were reputed to do things that make my best work look like the detachable thumb trick.” Zak sighed, placing the crystal in a padded crate. “As for why GOLEM stole it, I have a few ideas. Aside from the crystal’s obvious psi-enhancing properties, those it was sacred to may be particularly dangerous to us—and religious fervor tends to enhance this. I believe we may expect guests in the near future, but you could ask Inet or Penelope if you want to make sure.”

“I’ll ask them,” Victor said, “but only to narrow down a time-frame.”

* * *

There was no communication, either verbal nor psychic, between the ninjas as they converged on the hotel where they had been told their target spent most of his time. Kagome signaled for them to follow her, and they slipped into a service entrance. The girl moved confidently, which Yoshiko and Kaede took as a good sign. There were lighted strips in the walls, which Kagome avoided by crawling along the floor. The others emulated her. The much-smaller Kagome had an easier time of it than the adults.

She gestured them ahead, toward a stairwell. Yoshiko loosened her swords in their scabbards. Kagome’s reluctance to take the lead could be a sign that the easy part was over. The girl signed for them to take the stairwell down four levels. Kaede took the rear guard, Yoshiko took point, and the ninjas made their way toward their objective, every sense on alert. A panel in the wall rotated, sending Kagome sliding away and closing before a rescue could be attempted. Yoshiko’s eyes narrowed, but no sound crossed her lips. She was, after all, a professional. She was going to kill Victor Phillips, but she wasn’t going to feel the regret she had anticipated.

The stairwell opened out on a maze of corridors far too narrow for her to draw either of her swords, and made out of some super alloy. There were so many twists and turns that she knew it was designed to disorient her. She was considering using telekinesis to clear a path when the walls suddenly retracted into the floor, and lights came on in stages, revealing a wide-open space full of square lines into which the retractable panels had gone. Obviously, any configuration of maze could be formed by the panels, according to the desires of their “hosts.” Surrounding the ninjas was a room full of humans and other beings. Others had moved into place to cut off their escape.

“You don’t have to do this.” Victor Phillips said, holding up the sacred crystal on a velvet pillow. HE had the crystal? Yoshiko was so shocked that she froze in place. “We have similar taste in enemies. We took this from the enemy before they could blow it up. I believe it belongs to you. You can have it back, no strings attached.” The pillow floated across the intervening distance, and into Yoshiko’s trembling hands. The sweet smell of incense wafted to her nostrils. She was about to speak when a psychic shock brought her to her knees.

Thousands of miles away, on one of the smaller Japanese islands, the few surviving members of Yoshiko’s village who had been left behind to bury the dead met a sudden and violent end as a result of a swarm of air-to-surface missiles launched from shielded stealth bombers.

Unbalanced by shock and grief, Yoshiko lashed out at the only available target. Her initial attack rocked Victor. Her second brought him to his knees. She prepared to strike again, but Victor returned fire. Yoshiko tried to defend herself, but she was not prepared for the type of assault Victor launched—pure, unadulterated pleasure, assailing her from every side, from minds more numerous and more powerful than she could counter. She sank to her knees, trying to fend it off, but her own inner self rebelled, sabotaging her efforts. Her eyes locked with Victor’s. The crotch of her uniform was soaked. Her hips twitched. Her mind exploded in a supernova of ecstasy, burning Victor’s face into her mind like a brand.

* * *

Kagome wept unabashedly in her comfortable room. Her new friend, Penelope, held her gently, consolingly, her mind a soothing presence in Kagome’s own consciousness. Penelope was no stranger to grief, and had been helped through it by others who cared about her, as she now helped Kagome.

The Supernatural Threat Department, a parent agency of GOLEM, had annihilated the village. Penelope said they planned to execute the assassination team once they arrived at the rendezvous point. What fiends! Kagome began a new wave of sobbing into the lap of the older girl.

It’s going to be all right. Penelope’s voice said in Kagome’s mind. We’ll keep you safe. It’s part of what we’re here for. United we stand, and all that. Sleep now. Kagome couldn’t have resisted her if she’d wanted to.

* * *

Howard ran his fingers through the hair of the pretty ninja-ladies who now slept nude in his bed. He hadn’t touched their bodies in a sexual way yet. Their minds, on the other hand, were still recovering from an erotic onslaught the likes of which they had never experienced before. Howard had gotten these two because they had locked onto him during the final overload. Teddy and Abby had been more than happy to help him with the aftereffects of the backwash—so much eroticism had been in the training area that night that even those who had been dishing it out got some of it. The girls had gone to sleep happy.

The one known as Kaede awoke by stages, which a part of her eventually realized was unusual for her. She opened her eyes, which sought him out immediately. She smiled sweetly, until she remembered the missile attack—the psychic shock-waves from which had prompted the ninjas to lash out.

“Where...where is the crystal?” she asked weakly.

“Safe, with Yoshiko.” Howard said. Kaede relaxed at that. Howard kissed her, his mind caressing hers. The other one, called Kitsune, began to awaken then. When she was awake enough to appreciate it, he kissed her as well. “It’s all right. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. The sacred crystal is safe and being treated with respect.” He kissed each of them one more time. “And when you are recovered, you can take your revenge against the ones who really deserve it.” Kaede kissed him, then rolled him over until she was on top of him. His hard cock slid easily into her, and she gasped as he struck bottom. Her hips moved with a will of their own, her mind simply along for the ride. She gritted her teeth as she came the first time, trying not to make any noise. Perhaps being raised in a village of ninjas where everyone knew everyone had driven that habit into her, but Howard fully intended to teach her to let go. Relax, relax, enjoy... his mind urged her as he rolled her over to give himself a go. She looked into his eyes as she climaxed again, and this time a loud moan escaped before she could stop it.

Kitsune, feeling left out, decided to seize his attention by playing with herself. Howard wasn’t going to have that, and Kaede was in no condition to continue. She nipped playfully at him as he switched between them, and gasped as he filled her. During her first orgasm, she scratched down his back. Howard pressed his advantage, setting off a second and then a third orgasm in the ninja. Kitsune cried out during the third one, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut that tears leaked from the ducts. She panted and gasped in the aftermath, while Howard rested and recovered. They would be a while recovering from that—though hopefully it wouldn’t take the two days it had taken them to recover from the previous erotic assault.

He might not be a precog, but Howard had a feeling he was about to get some real-world combat experience, and soon.

To be continued...