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Reply-To: rivyavtry@myway.com
From: "Riv" <rivyavtry@myway.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Grant's Story {Riv Yavtry} (bsolo, mf nc preg magic?)
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Date: Fri, 13 Oct 2006 00:10:01 -0400
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My Muse deposited an idea for a series in my hopper.  I didn't want to
leave it there to to decompose, so I wrote up the first two parts while it
was fresh.  The two parts make a relatively self-contained story, so I
decided to merge them and release to ASSM.  Constructive criticism is
welcome, but I'd especially appreciate opinions on whether I should make
additional adventures for Grant a priority.  Riv Yavtry

   _______________________________________________ No banners.  No pop-ups.
No kidding.  Make My Way your home on the Web - http://www.myway.com

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<1st attachment, "grant.txt" begin>

My name is Grant. Really. There is some corroborating evidence later
in my story.

I suppose the right place to start is when I was very little. I
watched a cartoon of a fairy tale on television that helped to shape
my life.

A kingdom was terrorised by a wicked witch. Traditionally the
seventh child of a seventh child has magical powers, and there was a
prophecy that one day such a child would possess enough magical power
to vanquish the witch. The witch went round killing all seventh
children of seventh children to stop the prophecy being fulfilled. A
woman, a seventh child, gave birth to a son, her seventh child.
Knowing that the witch was coming for him and that she couldn't
protect him, she put him in a waterproof basket in the river and let
him float away. The witch found the woman, killed her and sought high
and low for the little boy. The boy was raised by a couple who found
him floating further down the river, and he discovered his destiny
just in time to use his magical powers to defeat the witch, avenge
his mother and free the kingdom.

That night I was so excited by the film that my mind raced and I
couldn't sleep. I did the math. I was a seventh child. All my
siblings were at least five years older so although I was part of a
large family, none of them wanted to hang out with me and I had quite
a lonely childhood. My father was an only child, but my mother was
the youngest of a large family. I counted the aunts and uncles, but
was bitterly disappointed to realise that there were only five, so
including my mother that made six.

Still, I developed a strong interest in magic and all things
mystical. At school it was the worst of both worlds - I wasn't
athletic and had the reputation of being a geek, but had none of the
usual redeeming features of being a geek such as being an academic
high-flier. However my reputation for being a bit odd meant that the
other kids didn't bother me too much.

That changed when I started senior school. There was a group of boys
who bullied me mercilessly. My older brothers tried to protect me
when they could, but the school tried to segregate different age
groups so I was usually on my own.

One morning during break, one of the worst bullies, a boy named
Billy Jenkins, managed to catch me. He tripped me so I fell over,
kicked me in the ribs a few times, then knelt on top of me, pinning
me to the ground. A crowd of his cronies gathered round to watch.

"Let's see what you've got in your pockets."

I struggled, but to no avail, as one by one he rifled through my
pockets and helped himself to anything of value. Then he found my
wallet, including some money I had saved to buy a brother his
birthday present after school.

"No, please don't take that, it's for my brother," I beseeched

"Serves you right for being such a pathetic little weed," he
replied, slapping my face so hard it made my teeth rattle.

I noticed a loose brick on the edge of the roof of the building
behind Billy. I desperately wished I could somehow reach out and use
it to smash him on the back of the head. Then, amazingly, I could
feel the weight of the brick in my hands...

The next few months were a very dark time for me. Apparently they
found me screaming "I didn't mean to do it" over and over again. The
back of Billy Jenkins' skull was bashed in - he lived but was
severely brain-damaged and spent the rest of his life a quadriplegic.
The police investigated, but were baffled. There was no way the brick
could have fallen from the roof and landed within ten feet of Billy
Jenkins, and yet it clearly had. They were equally convinced that I
could have had nothing to do with it, despite what I'd been screaming
- there was no brick dust on my hands. Billy Jenkins' parents sued
the school for negligence and won, getting enough money to look after
Billy for the rest of his life. However they squandered it holidays,
fast cars and a constant supply of beer. I was sectioned to a mental
hospital, where I was kept under a chemical cosh for almost a year.

Eventually the doctors reckoned I wasn't a danger to anyone, and let
me go home. Even today I can't remember more than an occasional flash
of the hospital. I was allowed back to school, but fortunately the
remaining bullies gave me a wide berth.

About this sort of time puberty and hormones hit me. I discovered
how pleasurable it was to rub my cock, how that made it hard and even
more pleasurable to rub. Somehow I knew I shouldn't make such
activity obvious but discretion wasn't my strong point and one day my
dad caught me. I expected to be punished, but instead he handed me a
well-used book and told me to read it. It was a sex education manual.
At first I could scarcely believe it, a man pushing his cock into the
hole a woman pees from, more-or-less, but as I read the details I
realised that it was true. It also explained why the boys and girls
in my class were acting so strangely around each other since I had
gone back to school.

I started looking at girls in a whole new light, but with my history
as a wacko they gave me a very wide berth. There was one girl in my
class in particular, called Melissa, curly chestnut hair, sparkling
hazel eyes, fantastic figure including a nicely developing pair of
tits, who I thought was absolutely gorgeous, but she wouldn't even
give me the time of day.

One Saturday I was in my room engrossed in a book on witches and
warlocks when my mom turfed me out.

"You shouldn't be stuck indoors on a day like this. Go out and play
with your friends." 

Problem - I didn't have any friends. Anyway, I wandered down to the
park and sat on a bench near the lake, from where I could watch the
birds. After a while, I saw a girl walking slowly towards me along
the path, totally engrossed in the music she was listening to. She
looked about 20, with a beautiful face, long, golden tresses and a
stunning figure. She was wearing a lightweight summer dress that came
down almost to her knees. My cock shot to attention and I had to
covertly adjust my pants to hide the fact. I found myself wishing I
could lift up the front of her dress to see what lay beneath.
Suddenly I could feel the thin cotton fabric of the hem in my hands
and I lifted it up, revealing a very shapely pair of thighs and white
panties. At first the girl didn't realise, then she saw me staring at
her and realised what I was staring at. She blushed and batted the
front of her dress down. She was still about 10 feet away. She
averted her look and quickened her pace so she was soon past me. I
felt thin fabric in my hands again as I lifted the back of her dress,
and I was able to keep it raised, watching her firm panty-clad
buttocks bob up and down, until she disappeared from sight.

Now I was convinced I had a paranormal talent. The seventh child of
a seventh child thing came back to me. Suddenly something struck me
that I hadn't noticed in all my years. My siblings were named in
alphabetical order, beginning with 'A', 'B', 'C' and so on. As the
seventh child, my name began with 'G', Grant. The names of my
mother's siblings started with letters from 'B' to 'F', my mother's
name being Gwen. What happened to 'A'? I resolved to ask my grandma
next time I saw her. That was sooner than I expected, because she
came to visit for a few days later that month. I waited until I was
alone with her.

"Grandma, have you had seven children?

Grandma went white as a sheet. I thought she was going to faint.

"Who told you? How did you find out?"

"I didn't. I was wondering why none of my aunts or uncles had a name
beginning with 'A'?"

Grandma sat down, holding her head in her hands. Then she looked up
at me.

"Grant, I'll explain, but you must swear before God that you won't
repeat any of this until after I'm dead?"

"Yes Grandma, I swear."

"It was during the war. We were near an army camp where soldiers
were trained before being sent off abroad. Once a month there was a
dance at the camp and all the local girls were invited. My parents
warned me to be careful but one boy caught my eye and we got carried
away. He was overseas, somewhere in Europe, when I found I was
pregnant. I wanted to keep it but my parents wouldn't let me. Being
an unmarried mother was very shameful in those days so my parents
arranged a discrete holiday for me and it was taken care of, despite
abortion being illegal in those days. It would have been a girl. I
thought of her as 'Alice'."

The next few months I practised in total secrecy. I practised
masturbating until eventually my cock started generating overwhelming
throbs of pleasure, and producing a few stringy drops of sticky white
stuff emerged from the tip. I also practised my talent, which I
called 'projection'. I found that it operated in straight lines. I
didn't have to be able to see what I was manipulating, but
experiments with groping for objects on the floor of the next room
proved very unsatisfactory. Its limitations were pretty much in line
with what I could do with my real arms and hands. One of my brothers
was a jock so I got him to show me how to use his weights, and as my
own body strength grew, so did the strength I was able to project. 

One day I was in town and I saw old Mrs Robbins walking her dog.
Suddenly a youth ran up behind her and pushed her over, snatching her
handbag. A couple of men started to give chase but the youth was fit
and getting away. Almost without thinking I projected my foot and
tripped him so he fell to the ground. Every time he motioned to get
up, I kicked him in the face. The two men caught up with him and
pinned him to the ground until the cops arrived. In an unexpected
twist, the two men were arrested for causing bodily harm to the youth
because the youth's face was a bloody mess. However the two men both
corroborated each other's testimony that they hadn't assaulted the
youth, and I gave a statement to that effect too, so the police were
unable to prosecute. That taught me that I could use my talent for
good, and that I could project other parts of my body besides my arms
and hands.

With these new discoveries and the improvement in my physique, I
grew in self-confidence. Even my grades at school improved, despite
missing a year. However my social standing didn't improve. Even girls
from other schools steered clear of me and the name 'Melissa' kept
cropping up. The girl seemed intent on poisoning the whole world
against me.

At school we were given the project of researching our ancestors,
involving a presentation of the findings to the rest of the class. I
was surprised to find that one of my ancestors had been hanged as a
witch. Everyone has heard of The Salem Witch Trials, but witch trials
occurred sporadically throughout the US. I made the mistake of
mentioning this ancestor when I gave my presentation, and immediately
people put two and two together and came up with Billy Jenkins. The
Principal only aggravated matters when he addressed the school to
pronounce that witchcraft didn't exist and Billy Jenkins had had an
unfortunate accident.

I continued to research my ancestors, widening my investigation back
to England, from where my mother's family had originated. Information
on the internet was scarce, but I found mention of a number of people
burned at the stake for witchcraft from the right sort of area with
surnames the same or similar to my mother's family. Perhaps
supernatural powers ran in the family.

As the summer holidays approached, my parents dropped a bombshell.
Concerned that I didn't seem to have any friends, they were sending
me away to camp to improve my social skills. At first I was horrified
by the prospect, but then I warmed to the idea. I would be with a
small group of boys and girls my own age and I would have a clean
slate.

The holidays came and my parents drove me to the camp. I was shown
to the boys' hut and allocated a bed and everything seemed to be
going ok. Then we were introduced to the girls and, my worst
nightmare, Melissa was there. The camp counsellors made everyone
introduce themselves to everyone else. My turn came with Melissa.

"Hi Melissa," I greeted her warmly, hoping we could have a sort of
truce.

"Keep the fuck away from me, you psycho. You should be back in that
loony bin where you can't hurt anyone. GIRLS, I have the misfortune
to go to the same school as this psycho."  

The counsellors intervened immediately and talked to us separately.
I explained about Billy Jenkins' 'accident' and my subsequent
breakdown. Melissa's parents had gone abroad for a month, so sending
her home was not an option. The counsellors persuaded her to offer a
half-hearted apology, but I could see the hatred in her eyes as she
made it.

On the whole, the other kids didn't make my life too difficult.
After Melissa's outburst I had no chance with the girls and when it
came to picking partners for activities I was picked last and
grudgingly, but at least my time at the camp would be bearable.

The first night it was very hot and I couldn't get to sleep on the
unfamiliar bed. Despite it being against camp regulations to leave
the huts at night, I decided to go out for some fresh air. I wandered
around for a while listening to the wildlife, then sometime later
ended up near the girls' hut. The windows had shutters and they were
closed, but I could see the dim light of the emergency lights
escaping from a crack in one of them and I decided to risk a peek.
The crack was narrow and I couldn't see much of the inside of the hut
apart from one bed on the far side of the room. By an amazing stroke
of coincidence, it was Melissa's.

Because of the heat, Melissa was lying on top of the bed covers. Her
nightie had ridden up to her hips, displaying her luscious thighs and
pink panties. My cock forced a bulge in the front of my pants. I
decided to risk projecting my fingers for a feel under her panties. I
felt a few sparse hairs on her crotch, then, in the space between her
legs, the all-important slit. Melissa's panties bulged and squirmed
with the movement of my projected fingers.

Melissa didn't stir so I got bolder. I started rubbing a finger
along her slit, and as my pressure increased it slipped between her
labia. I could feel her getting moist, as the sex ed manual said. I
found her cunt and slipped a finger inside; it was hot and wet. I was
getting really aroused and knew it wouldn't be long before my aching
cock would spurt. If only I could put it inside Melissa. Suddenly I
felt hot, moist flesh round the head of my cock and realised I had
discovered another body part that I could project. I gently slid all
the way in. It felt so good, the tight, hot tube fitting my cock like
a glove. I pulled out most of the way and pushed back in, as it
showed in the sex ed manual. I could see Melissa's tummy rise and
fall in time with the invasion and withdrawal by my projected cock.
Suddenly I couldn't contain myself any more and felt huge throbs of
pleasure as I reached orgasm. This was infinitely better than rubbing
myself.

My projected cock went limp and slipped out of Melissa, and at the
same time I felt my real cock go limp. Alarmed, I felt inside my
pants expecting to find a sticky mess, but everything was fine, just
a little moistness at the head of my cock. Consequence-free sex!

Most nights after that I returned to the girl's hut and fucked
Melissa by projection. Sometimes it was raining hard, once or twice I
slept through after a day's exertions, but by the end of the holiday
I must have fucked Melissa at least twenty times. I experimented. I
learned how to postpone my orgasm to make the experience last longer.
I learned that if I rubbed the hard little nodule between Melissa's
labia in a certain way, I could make her throb with pleasure too. And
finally I learnt to time things so that we both orgasmed at the same
time. And all the time Melissa slept through it. However it must have
affected Melissa to some extent because she became quiet and
withdrawn, and not the socialite that she was at home. In a way, I
was rather sad the holiday ended.

Back at school, the other boys boasted about their summertime
conquests.

"I felt under Abigail's bra."

"Connie held my cock."

"I fucked my cousin Tabitha."

However there was no way I could tell about projection fucking
Melissa twenty times.

It turned out my sex with Melissa wasn't consequence-free. After a
couple of months she disappeared from school, and I had to piece the
story together by overhearing snatches of conversation over several
months. Melissa was pregnant. She denied having sex, and her
boyfriend denied having sex with her. The dates suggested the camp
but the counsellors explained the constant supervision, the sleeping
arrangements and the night-time curfew and denied any responsibility.
When Melissa had her baby son, her parents forced her by then ex-
boyfriend, who had left her because of her obvious infidelity, to
have a paternity test, and it proved he wasn't the father.

I had a very good idea who the father was. My talent allowed me to
excrete bodily fluids at a distance. 
<1st attachment end>


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