The Girls
Prologue:
It was Monday, the 19th. He’d woken up that morning, and decided that it was time he spread his Influence to the next generation. A phone call later, he had an appointment, and by noon, he was sitting behind a desk at the local highschool, everyone convinced that he was a professional Guidance Counsellor, that he had been for years.
The power had come to him more than a thousand years ago. Originally the power was simply immortality, and he had appreciated that. But over time he had got bored, and started to explore different aspects of the world, things that had never been explored before. He’d started with hypnotism, but within a few decades, he’d managed to surpass even the most talented hypnotist in the world. He’d managed to unlock a part of the brain that no one had unlocked before, and now, he could do almost anything.
He’d spent time doing a bit of everything—he’d lived as a king, and he’d lived as a beggar. He’d ruled one of the most powerful nations in the world, and he’d dropped out of sight and lived completely alone for more than a decade. He’d had sex with more than a thousand women, possibly more than ten thousand—some of them willing, some of them willing once he’d made a few tweaks, and some of them unaware he was even there.
These days, sex didn’t interest him as much. Once you have sex with a thousand women, it’s hard to really enjoy it. Virgins are always too inexperienced, whores are always too loose. He’d tried every sexual maneuver, every position—heck, he could have written a new Karma Sutra twenty times longer than the original.
If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he’d got more enjoyment from his own right hand recently than he had from a woman. After a millenium of practice, you get quite good at jacking off.
He found that what aroused him, what turned him on more than anything was watching an ordinary person slip into depravity, watching them fuck people that they would never normally fuck, watching their entire lives rotate around depraved, unconventional sex. It wasn’t about the physical feel of sex any more, it was about what he observed, what he was aware of. Having sex with a teenager didn’t interest him—having sex with a teenager who was trying to make her Dad jealous, that turned him on.
Firmly established in the school, he made a few more simple pushes, interviewed some of the more lacivious schoolboys, and soon, he had a list. A list of 13 girls—the 13 hottest girls in the school. The 13 girls that every teenaged male wished would show a bit more skin, be a bit more “friendly”. While it was certainly within his powers to simply make all 13 of these girls horny, randy, willing to fuck anything that moved, there was no finesse in that, no grace.
Many years ago, that was what he would have done. He would have simply turned the libidos up, and watched them run amok. He could have made everyone unaware he was there—essentially made himself invisible, and watched it all up close. But these days, he preferred something a little more subtle, a little more...interesting.
It was about the game these days, learning exactly what made someone tick—learn who they were, what they were all about, and then make a few little tweaks, and watch the changes unfold.
The “counsellor” went through the filing cabinets, and got the files out for all 13 of the girls on his list. He sat back, and started reading—the girls in themselves weren’t that interesting. Times hadn’t changed much; these girls could have gone to any highschool in any country, at any time in the last hundred years.
They weren’t interesting in themselves. He hadn’t found anyone who he’d actually been interested by in more than a century now. He’d found himself splitting them into about 100 distinct, but utterly predictable types. People in themselves didn’t interest him—it was what he could do with them, now that was where the fun could be found.
He grinned, blinked twice, and asked the secretary he’d acquired if she could send the first girl in—“Gemma”, her name was. He didn’t have anything in particular in mind. He’d show her in, ask a few questions, maybe get her to take her clothes off. See what caused inspiration to strike.
As he waited, he pulled a coin out of his hand, and started flipping it, letting it catch the light. He smiled gently to himself—it was going to be a good day, he could feel it.
A long day, perhaps, but definitely a fruitful one.