I'd like to say that my life is _very_ nicely unfucked and 
getting better all the time, but I can't.  The fucked up 
just gets worse.  End of bitchfest.  Again, I want to think 
everybody gave me feedback on the first two chapters of 
this story.  As I hope to prove this time, I will not fail 
or falter.  But for my kickstart, I first have to thank 
CSquared, as it was while reading Powers, his "Opus 
Magnum", that my desire to tell this story became 
overwhelming.  The second person to be thanked is my lovely 
fiancee, blayze, who never stopped wanting me to start 
writing again.  Lastly, I need to thank krys, who made it 
worth coming back online again, which further motivated me 
to keep writing.  I'm still trying for one chapter per 
month from this point on, but maybe I'll be able to do 
better.  Chapter 3 and 4 are coming out so close together 
because 3 was a paragraph from being finished when I 
crashed last time.  As always, not even I know how long 
this story will end up being, again, we are still only in 
the beginning and I don't know the end of this journey 
anymore than you do.  I have to give props to CSquared as 
his is the first story beyond mine that I have ever run 
across, where somebody had telekinesis, but did not have 
the ability of telepathy (always excepting the early 
eighties movie "Zapped!" with Scott Baio, and the debate on 
my end of reality is raging on as to whether or not he was 
mildly telepathic).  But even in Powers there are telepaths 
on hand to pull an Obi-Wan and conveniently make everyone 
forget.  So how much more difficult would life be if those 
with the super-human power to move things with their minds 
couldn't erase the memory from the standers-by?  How hard 
would it be for someone to have pure telekinesis, with no 
telepathy, and no one around to help them out?  In short, a 
world where telekinesis was suddenly real, but telepathy 
was still a pipe dream?  Let's find out.  Now, as always, 
please send any and all comments to me.  Suggestions and 
criticisms will be gratefully accepted.  Flames, however, 
will be ignored.  Please, do me a favor and tell me what 
you think.  After all, it really is the only payment we 
online authors get <g>.

And before I forget, if you like this type of story, I'd 
highly suggest checking out the works of "The Book" series 
by Blackie and "Tim, the Teenaged MC" by Rass Senip.  
Admittedly, they are mostly telepathy with a bit of 
telekinesis, but they are works for the ages.  And then 
there is the newer work, but every bit as good, by 
CSquared, "Powers" which seems to have equal amounts of 
telepathy and telekinesis as time goes by, and I believe it 
will join the previous two as works to be remembered.


------------------------------------------------------

Pure Telekinesis by: Waylan Dagger 
(waylandagger@hotmail.com) (c) 2008


Chapter 4 : All Alone - Or Am I?

After cleaning the blood off his face in the downstairs 
bathroom, David went back up the stairs and looked at the 
dark hallway.  "Well," he said to himself, "I don't have a 
blood donor here so let's keep as much in my nose as 
possible.  I'll flip the switch the old-fashioned way."

He began moving along hallway, his right hand sliding along 
the wall between elbow and shoulder height.  After a short 
time, standing in the pitch black darkness, his hand felt 
the plate the switch should have been in, but he couldn't 
find the toggle switch.  Where it should have been, in the 
center of the plastic plate, was a rectangular hole, 
slightly jagged at the bottom.  David actually turned to 
face the wall, even though he couldn't really see it, just 
a slightly lighter patch of darkness.  He muttered, softly 
"What the fuck?" and shook his head.

He immediately gave up on trying to find the bit of plastic 
in the gloom and stumbled down to the second doorway on the 
right, blindly following his hand on the wall.  He opened 
his bedroom door and shuffled into the not-as-dark space, 
and felt grateful, for the first time, for the streetlight 
just outside his bedroom window, which even the heaviest 
shade couldn't block out entirely.  Navigating the debris 
on the floor by memory, instinct, and one stubbed toe, 
David fell onto his bed, ignored the light puff of dust, 
flipped his pillow over his head and held it tight.

After about an hour, he finally dropped off, desperately 
clutching his damp pillow, the tear tracks drying on his 
face, and an occasional sob escaping him even in sleep.



David sat bolt upright the next morning, breathing hard.  A 
nightmare quickly fled from his mind, and the only thing he 
remembered was the pain-twisted face of his sister, 
Yolanda.  His hand came up to wipe the sleep in the corners 
of his eyes, then ran up though his hair again, stopped to 
trace the bandage with his forefinger.  He looked over at 
the clock and made an inarticulate noise of disgust.  
4:30am.  David knew if he went back to sleep his alarm 
would never wake him up...

"Not that I remembered to set the damn thing," he muttered 
after he noticed the alarm light was off.

Grumbling, moaning, and scratching at the hair on the back 
of his neck, David stumbled across the hall, the light from 
his bedroom spilling out, toward the bathroom.  Halfway 
here, he yelped, jumped, and fell on his butt, hands 
grasping his right foot.  He looked over to see what he had 
stepped on and saw the twisted, cracked, half-shattered 
plastic toggle from a light switch.  There was a drop of 
blood on the tip.  He forgot about his pain and dropped his 
foot.  His head swiveled on his neck but the rest of him 
had become a statue.

"Whoa," escaped his lips as he saw what was left of the 
hallway light switch.  The bottom of the rectangular hole 
that normally encased the toggle was jagged, broken.  The 
flat panel of plastic had split and splintered from the 
remainder of bottom of the rectangular hole, and down 
through the screw holding it in place.

"I think I used too much twitch," he mused to himself as he 
stood up again, the pains in his foot and back from 
stepping on the jagged plastic and falling forgotten.  A 
chuckle escaped his throat and he muttered, "I'll need to 
replace that."



After showering, shaving, pissing, and eating (thanking 
heaven for his mother's long-time addiction to Eggos and 
his father's unnatural obsession with Kool-Aid), David 
dressed in slightly musty clothes from his closet.  
"Shopping and laundry," he muttered to himself.  "Those are 
my priorities after school."

His Aunt's voice echoed in his memory, "...when you get 
hungry."  Well, it wasn't much of a surprise that his 
mother, while she had still been speaking to Aunt Laura, ad 
never told her that he was working.  Primarily because his 
mother had _strongly_ disapproved of the fact that he 
worked at the local Hot Topic.  David had never understood 
why his mother disapproved, all he ever wore from there 
were some band shirts...and the shirt with the Autobots 
symbol on it he had bought and never worn.

David smiled as he remembered how he had gotten himself 
hired.  Dawn, the manager, sneered as she played her eyes 
up and down the normal, thin, preppy-looking David.  Then 
she sighed and said, "Well, I guess you won't steal as much 
stuff as the last one.  She weighed at least ten pounds 
more at the end of every shift."

David had been very aware of the fact that he would need 
the money for college, even if he did manage to swing the 
unlikely academic scholarship or two, and a hell of a lot 
more when he didn't get those scholarships.  So he had put 
over $50,000 into his savings account over the last seven 
years.  Well over half of that in the last two years of 
working at Hot Topic.  At least once a month, usually once 
a week or more, his mother had asked him why he couldn't 
get a "more respectable" job.

She had never understood his answer: "But, Mom, I _like_ 
working there.  A bunch of kinder-goths sniping at preppy-
me behind my back and talking about what they can't find.  
And then seeing their faces as I turn around and tell them 
exactly where they can find what they were talking about, 
then go on to discuss the comparative quality of a thin 
leather chain-hung belt versus one made only of thick 
chain, how much longer the chain will last, and the 
differences in the current trends of the Goth, Emo, and 
Artistic crowds.  Those looks, Emo-deer-in-the-headlights.  
Priceless, absolutely priceless."

In fact he was...had been...forbidden to tell his limited 
amount of relatives that he had even worked since being a 
paperboy, as that was a "perfectly respectable" occupation 
for a boy and then a young teenager.  As a result, almost 
all of them had characterized David as "lazy and won't ever 
amount to much."  The rest had just lamented that he was so 
unmotivated.

David hadn't told Aunt Laura about his job yet because it 
hadn't come up.  He still wasn't released for work.  He 
paused as he got ready to set the alarm and leave, briefly 
wondering if he _had_ a job to go back to.  He shook his 
head and reminded himself that it didn't matter at the 
moment.

The alarm set, David locked only the deadbolt, started to 
chuckle, then let out a sob as he realized his sister 
wouldn't ever lock the doorknob again to let him know she 
was with her flavor-of-the-week, making out in the living 
room, and he should see the sights for a while. He shook 
his head violently and muttered, "Need to get new locks for 
the door.  Don't want Auntie-dearest barging in anymore," 
and turned away.

David turned the first corner from his house onto the route 
that would take him, eventually, to his school.  He was 
walking on auto-pilot, thinking to himself how he should 
get the van still in the garage registered to park in the 
student lot and constructing a shopping and to-do list in 
his head as he went.  A high-pitched, almost falsetto, war-
whoop sounded from behind David.  With reflexes born of 
dealing with this for years, David dove face-first into the 
snow on the sidewalk, just as a large water balloon passed 
through the air his back had occupied a millisecond before.  
It struck a lightpole just ahead of him with enough force 
to spray water at least five feet beyond even as David was 
rolling onto his side to look at the passing car, a candy-
apple red 1969 Corvette.  Over the growl of the passing 
car's engine, David clearly heard Jimmy D's voice shout, 
"Ya missed the weirdo again, Scott!"

David snarled out and the twitch hit him again, almost 
stronger than the white-hot anger that burned inside.  A 
sound that can only be described as a head-on collision 
between two tanks shattered the air as something like the 
fist of an invisible giant smashed the hood of the 'Vette 
down into the asphalt, turning frame, engine, et al into a 
large steel pancake.  David almost blacked out from the 
searing pain in his head, but managed to hold on as the 
back end of the car rocketed upward in reaction, like a 
massive tiddly-wink.  Bright hazel eyes behind huge, round 
glasses framed by a face frozen in terror stared out at 
David from the now near-vertical tiny back seat.  David 
heard his own voice scream "NOT AGAIN!" as he felt not the 
twitch, but a much larger movement, almost like his entire 
brain had lurched inside of his skull.  The car, now 
hurtling toward the ground roof-first, slowed rapidly.  It 
settled, almost gently, on its roof and David fell into 
blackness.



David slowly began to claw his way back to consciousness, 
hearing, from far off, the soft, quiet, almost musical 
voice he was quickly beginning to associate with getting 
better.  "David," it was saying.  "Oh, please, David, wake 
up!"

It was tinge with something more this time and, as David 
tried to ready himself to talk, he realized something wet 
was falling on his left cheek.  "It can't be raining," 
David groaned out.

He heard a gasp, the missiles solve, and the voice 
whispered, "Thank you, goddess."

David managed to get his left eye open without passing out 
again from pain, almost, but not quite, and saw the small 
form he now recognized above him.  "Ang?" he managed to get 
out.  "Are you all right?"

Ang had her hands under her glasses, wiping her eyes and 
hiccuped out a laugh.  "I'm not the..." she took a deep, 
shuddering breath.  "I'm not the one who was lying face-
down in the snow, coloring it with my blood, silly."

"Blood?"  David asked.  "Oh, my nose.  Yeah, I think it 
does that when I try ta do too much."  He tried to sit up, 
but couldn't quite move.  "Give us a hand, will you?"

"Us?"  She said, wiggling her hands under him and trying to 
lift.  "How many of ya are in there?"

"Sorry," David grunted as he got his muscles to work, 
sitting up with Ang's help.  "I've watched too much Monty 
Python and Black Adder."

She finished helping him sit up in the snow and giggled.  
The sweet, throaty sound that David smile despite himself.  
"Oh, sure, and next you are going to tell me you are half 
Roman and didn't know it!"

"Nah," David responded automatically.  "My name's David, 
not Brian, remember?"  And then he stopped and turned just 
his head to stare at Ang.

She shrugged, blushing.  "What," she squeaked out, "am I 
supposed to like South Park instead?"

David made a rude noise before he could stop himself.  
"Yeah," Ang muttered, looking to her left, "Jimmy likes 
that show."

David looked past her and saw what was left of the car 
lying on its roof, passenger door opened, and James Dean as 
well as another jock hanging upside down, still in their 
seatbelts.  "Are they..." he whispered, unable to continue.

"They are breathing," Ang said and then muttered something 
too low for David to make out.

David nodded and said, "How long?"  He then realized she 
wouldn't be used to the way he cut out things sometimes, 
like most of his friends were, and opened his mouth again.

"Fifteen minutes or so," Ang said and sniffled.  "Only that 
since you crunched the 'Babemobile' and saved me...again."

David, starting to panic, blurted out, "What?  I didn't 
touch the car."

Ang frowned and stared into his eyes through her thick 
glasses.  "Just another 'prank' then?" she asked, her voice 
a little sharp.

David slowly shook his head and whispered, "No."

A siren started wailing in the distance, coming rapidly 
closer.  David shot to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain 
in his head, and held his hand down, offering silently to 
help Ang up.  "C'mon," he said.  "Trying to explain this to 
a bunch of paranoids in uniform doesn't sound fun to me."

Ang looked up at him, a sudden look of fear flying across 
her face, then nodded and took his hand, struggling back to 
her feet.  David made sure she was stable before he let go 
of her hand and began to stride away.  "Wait," Ang called.

David stopped and turned around to see her taking handfuls 
of snow from a lawn to cover the red patch of snow that had 
his face's imprint in it.  "We don't want them finding this 
either," she explained and stood up when she was done, 
walking over toward him.  "Something like this is probably 
going to end up near Daddy's office and forensics would 
have a field day."

David started to ask about "Daddy's office" and had opened 
his mouth when Ang, visibly hesitating, slipped her hand 
into his.  "And we better go back to your house," she 
added.

Her freezing cold hand felt somehow...warm...all over, and 
made his thoughts scatter.  "Uh, why?" he asked.

"Well," she said, walking quickly and following his 
footprints in the snow, "I don't think you want to show up 
at Lake Stevens High with blood coving the right side of 
your face, huh?  Not to mention the icky mess in your 
hair."

"Oh," he said as he had to lengthen his stride to keep up 
with the slowly-jogging Ang.

"Around the corner here?" she asked.

"Yeah, the ugly house," David heard himself say.

Ang spotted the mint green house with the dark blue trim 
shortly and slowed a bit, saying, "Oh...my.  Well, at least 
it's unique."

David couldn't help it, he laughed as he caught up with her 
and was able to walk normally again.  Ang grinned, her eyes 
shifting sideways to look at him.  He saw her left eye 
without the glasses and felt his own widen a bit.  "Uhm," 
he cleared his throat.  "Can you see me?"

"I'm nearsighted," she answered.  "You're a little blurry, 
but not much."

David stopped himself from asking why she wore such huge 
eyeglasses then and just said, "Ah."

He opened the front door and ushered Ang in just as a 
police cruiser, lights flashing, slowed as it went past the 
intersection, toward the currently-out-of-sight wrecked 
'Vette.  David dove inside, pulling Ang with him, and keyed 
the code into the beeping panel as his foot kicked the door 
shut again.

He turned to look at Ang, who had been looking around, but 
her eyes had stopped on the tree.  "Just, ah, hang around 
here while I get cleaned up ok?" David asked her as he 
turned and strode for the stairs.

"Yeah," she said softly, stepping toward the living room.  
"Sure."



David was still running a towel over his short hair when he 
came downstairs, freshly showered and wearing clean but 
still musty clothes and a dry, if a little dusty on the 
shoulders, jacket.  "Ang?" he called out, not seeing her 
immediately.

"In here," her voice floated out of the living room.

He walked in and saw her standing in the middle of the 
living room, staring at the desiccated tree and forlorn-
looking presents.  Her lower lip trembled as she turned to 
face him and her eyes had a wet shine along the bottom 
eyelid.  "I don't even know what to say...how you must 
feel," she whispered.

David dropped the towel to the floor, forcing a neutral 
expression onto his face.  A line from an album his father 
often listened to went through his head: "Button your lip, 
and don't let the shield slip.  Take a fresh grip on your 
bullet-proof mask."

He was knocked out of his reverie by the small form that 
rocketed into him.  Ang's arms went around his waist as her 
small frame shook with the sobs that were being muffled by 
his shirt.  He looked down at her and clumsily put his arms 
around the small, crying girl, unsure what to do.  "Hey," 
he said softly.  "It's ok.  I survived and I'll be ok."

She continued to cling to him and cry.  Still confused and 
unsure what to do, David patted her shoulder, hearing 
himself actually saying the inane phrase that comes to all 
men the first time they face this: "There, there."

Her arms finally relaxed a little and she stopped crying 
with what sounded to David like a series of small hiccups.  
She sniffled several times and, finally, looked up to meet 
his eyes.  He looked down, and found himself suddenly lost 
in the glimmer-brightness of those golden eyes magnified 
behind thick glass.  Without thinking or willing any 
movement at all his neck bent and the eyes and the imp-cute 
face behind them were growing larger in his vision.  Then 
his lips touched hers and he lost himself entirely.

Ang squeaked and tensed hard in his arms, her hands coming 
from around his back to his chest.  But then she let out a 
light, throaty moan and her eyes closed, her hands roamed 
over his chest softly.

David came back to his senses a moment later and stiffened 
up a bit himself, lifted his head slightly, and broke the 
contact between their lips.  He heard a small sound come 
from Ang, a soft squeak like a kitten might make.  As Ang's 
eyes fluttered slowly open, David thought to himself, "Wow.  
I just kissed a girl."

A giggle burst from Ang as she looked up at him.  "Really 
well, too, I think," she said with a soft sigh.

David jumped a bit and, looking suddenly at the ceiling and 
blushing, managed to say, "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Letting your thoughts come out of your mouth?" Ang asked, 
laughter lighting her voice.  "Um hmm.  Ya did."

David sighed and looked down at the small form still in his 
arms.  "Sorry."

Her eyes twinkles and she said, "Don't be.  I've been 
dreaming 'bout my first kiss..." and she added something 
else David couldn't make out.

Before he could stop himself, David heard his voice say, 
"Me too."

Ang's eyes widened, and she stared up at him before she 
blurted out, "You haven't?"

David chuckled, but it was a dry, brittle, self-mocking 
sound.  "What, LHS's weirdo and an embarrassment to his 
'beautiful people' younger sister?  Ang, I've never even 
had a _date_, much less the opportunity."

She kept staring up at him, confusion covering her face.  
"But I've seen you talking to girls.  Laughing with them!"  
Her eyes hardened, and her voice became accusatory.  "I 
even saw one of those cheerleader-sluts hugging you in the 
hallway once!"  Her voice actually snarled out, "Janice 
Coleman no less!" and she began to push against his chest 
with her hands.

David recoiled slightly, but for some reason, one he 
couldn't identify, he kept his arms around her and 
tightened them to keep her close.  "Yeah, I remember that.  
August, after I helped her change her D in Western Lit to a 
C+.  She was almost kicked off the squad."

Ang stopped pushing and her face softened a little.  "She 
hugged you because you tutored her?" she squeaked out, her 
musical voice becoming somewhat pinched.

David nodded.  "Yep.  And yes I talk to some girls.  They 
all agree," he sighed and continued with a morose tone to 
his voice, "that I am a _great friend_."

Ang looked thunderstruck for a moment and then burst out 
laughing, her arms going around his waist and her face 
burying itself in his chest again, her hard glasses digging 
in this time, but David didn't even try to shift.  He did 
start to get angry, but then her muffled, burbling voice 
came from his chest.  "Oh!" she said.  "I...I'm sorry!  
Buh...but that's the k- kiss of death!"

Her light, airy laughter suddenly washed away his anger and 
he started to laugh along with her.  "Yeah," he got out, as 
hw became wracked by deep, belly laughs.  "It is!"

They both collapsed against each other, wheezing breaths in 
between bouts of laughter hard enough to shake both of 
them.  It only became louder as David fell backward, Ang 
landing on top of him.

When they finally stopped laughing, Ang reached down 
between them to hold her stomach and said, "Oh, I hurt!"

David, still chuckling lightly, said, "Want me to kiss it 
better?"

Ang's eyes went wide again and her eyes stared up at David 
over the top of her glasses.  David stopped chuckling and 
felt himself blushing furiously.  "I, ah, uhm," he 
stuttered out.  "That is...hmm...uhm..."  His mind wasn't 
blank, it was moving too fast for him to get _anything_ 
out.

Ang suddenly blushed as well, opened her mouth, closed it, 
looked away, and pulled her hand out from between them to 
fidget with her fingers.  "Oh, hell," David managed to 
think, careful to stay silent this time.  "I've done it 
now.  She'll never even _look_ at me again, and now it'll 
be Pervy Davey Wierdo all over LHS.  Way to go, sport."

Ang's voice, a hesitant, barely audible mewl, floated to 
his ears, sounding more like a question as she squeaked 
out, "Yes?"

David's mouth went dry as Ang's blush became so bright he 
worried momentarily about her passing out.  Then, slowly, 
she rolled off of him and onto her back.  Her hands, 
trembling so hard the edges of them seemed to blur, 
gathered up the hem of her sweater and the t-shirt below, 
pulling them up to expose her incredibly white belly.  Her 
eyes closed as David's became riveted on that widening 
patch of skin and he experienced what his mother had always 
laughingly called the "Gallant Reaction".  He glanced up at 
Ang's face to make sure her eyes were closed, and they 
were, so tight that small folds showed on the eyelids and 
the corners crinkled.  David quickly reached down and 
adjusted the sudden reaction, hiding it behind the fly of 
his pants as he thought, "Come on man!  It's just her 
belly!"

"Please?" floated down from Ang's lips as her whole body 
began to shake.

David nodded, his mouth still dry as a desert as he studied 
her incredibly white skin.  He noticed that she had a 
shallow "innie" belly button with just a hint of lint from 
her t-shirt.  She also had just a little paunch just above 
her waist.  Almost, but not quite, a small pot belly.  
David thought it looked perfect.  He leaned over her, 
supported by a hand on either side of her waist, and bent 
his head down to place a single, soft kiss just above her 
belly button.

As his lips touched, Ang let out a sharp gasp and wrapped 
her arms around his head, tightly, pressing the side of his 
face into her warm, soft stomach.  Not really knowing why, 
David turned his head in her surprisingly soft grip to 
place another kiss, just below where her shirt had bunched 
up, a bottom ridge of one rib just barely showing.  A loud 
shuddering gasp escaped Ang, ending in what sounded, to 
David, like a sob.

He managed to lift his head slightly as a soft, almost 
hissing murmur reached his ears.  He saw Ang's face then, 
and the constant murmuring, which was coming from her 
barely moving lips, became audible, but only just.  She was 
saying "Please don't let me wake up this time," over and 
over again.

"Ang," David said, very softly and her eyes flew open.  
"You aren't asleep."

Ang's eyes rolled slowly down to look into David's as he 
hovered above her still-bare belly.  "Oh," she said, and 
blushed redly again.

"I wonder how far that blush goes down," David wondered to 
himself, and heard Ang gasp.  He closed his eyes tightly 
and said, "I said that out loud again, didn't I?"

"Uhm," Ang got out, softly, "yeah."

"Great," David muttered, then opened his eyes to look up at 
her.  "Look, I didn't..."

"Wouldyouliketosee," Ang blurted out, all in one word.  
Before David could even process what he had just heard, Ang 
shrieked, "Oh, goddess!  I can't believe I just said that!"

David swallowed past the huge lump in his throat and 
croaked out, "Yeah, I would."  He cleared his throat 
loudly.  "But not yet."

"Huh?" Ang squeaked out, looking down at his face again.

"It wouldn't be..." David struggled for a moment, "right.  
It wouldn't be right, not yet."  He looked up into her eyes 
and smiled.

"Why?" she asked softly.

David's eyes filled with tears and he silently cursed them 
as he said, "Yvette..."  His throat had locked up and he 
lost the ability to speak.  Her small hand came up from his 
shoulder to brush a tear from his face and that small 
kindness let him speak again.  "Yvette let almost any guy 
see, touch, I think she did _it_ with some of em.  Always a 
new one, every week, sometimes every day.  It's...okay for 
some people, I guess.  And it might be fun, I suppose..."  
He looked up at her again, through blurry eyes.  "But it 
isn't what I want," he finished in a rush, the last word a 
sob as he buried his face into the soft skin below him.

"Shhh," Ang whispered in her soft, sweet voice as her hand 
ran gently though his hair.  "Shhh, you aren't alone 
anymore."  Her other hand came up and she hugged David's 
head to her bare skin gently.  "And neither am I, I think."


------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately, all the people willing to edit my work have 
temporarily lost internet access.  So any typos or glaring 
plot holes are my mistake alone.

This story is copyrighted by me, the author, Waylan Dagger.  
Please do not repost this story or post it on an archive 
without obtaining permission first.  I can almost guarantee 
that permission will be granted, but I would like the 
courtesy.  I can be reached at waylandagger@hotmail.com