Tripping the Lights Fantastic by NetWanderer Disclaimer: 1> If you are under age, over sensitive, or just generally opposed to material commonly referred to as 'smut' do not read, peruse, or otherwise scan this document 2> If reading material considered obscene is illegal where you are, go somewhere where it ISN'T! :) 3> Finally, this particular storyline includes non-consensual sexual activity with adults and minors of both genders (and some consensual). If this bothers you, you have only to hit the magical D button. (Or whatever turns your newsreader on.) That said.... Chapter One - Discoveries Made (or Accidents Happen). Hey there. My name is Mark. Ever since my teen years, I've realised I'm a pedophile. While my friends and I were at the mall, they'd stare at the 18-20 year old girls, and even though I'd be agreeing with their comments, I'd actually be looking at the girls' younger sisters. I'm 26 now, and until recently, I'd never had the chance to act on these urges for fear of getting caught. But, since then, I've had some amazing experiences, and, well, I've had to tell someone, so here goes: First, I had better tell you a little about myself. Besides being 26, I'm about 6' tall, 160 lbs. I have blond hair and light blue eyes. I'm not exactly muscular, more often, I find myself referred to as 'wiry.' After completing a bachelors degree in biology at a small Midwestern university, I had worked at a research lab in Atlanta for a year plus, before returning to my native town (can't tell ya, sorry. You understand). I took a position as a graduate assistant at a local prestigious university while I worked on a masters in psychology. To pay the rent, though, I also worked several other jobs. Besides my primary job at the school, where I was working with a professor researching addiction treatment, I also did some free-lance computer consulting, and one night a week I coached a kids gymnastics team at the local youth center. I think my reasons for that are fairly self evident, don't you? It was my work at the university that finally allowed me to break my self imposed ban on certain activities. As part of the research project, we were examining the effects of flashing lights which varied in episode and intensity on people's unconscious states. It has long been established that specific flash patterns can produce neurochemical effects, most notably epileptic seizures. Our research team was trying to determine if we could produce specific effects that could modify behavior. With my background in bio, it was my job to monitor the brain patterns of the test subjects as the light patterns were generated. After many months of staring at thin squiggly lines, I was getting fairly good at interpreting them. A couple of months ago, I was running a test on a subject, using a pattern we had analysed pretty exhaustively already. At this point, I was just going through the motions. I was sitting in the control room, watching the test subject out of the corner of my eye as I monitored the EEG. The test room was equipped with a one-way polarised mirror which filtered out the flashes, to avoid disorienting us. This particular subject was a young grad student named Betty. As the final cycles ran down, I found myself musing that even though Betty was a bit overweight, I'd probably sleep with her if the occasion arose. It had been a while, my schedule didn't leave much time for a social life besides my hand. While I was considering the pros and cons in asking her if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee afterwards, that it happened. As I swung my chair around to shut off the light system, my arm knocked a clipboard full of papers off the top, right onto the controls/ Cursing, I bent to pick up the scattered papers. As I rose, I noticed the impact had changed the settings on the light system, to a setting we had never used. Instinctively, my eyes flashed to the EEG monitor. Everything looked normal at first glance, then I noticed that the higher brain function activity monitors were strangely muted. Looking through the mirror, I observed Betty staring fixedly ahead, blinking slowly. I panicked. For some reason, I muttered, 'Damn, just as I was gonna see if I could get her to show me some tits.'. I was about to shut off the lights, when I noticed her hands moving to the buttons on her shirt. In a state of shock, I watched as she undid the buttons, letting the sides of her blouse fall back, exposing a plain white bra over her ample mounds. Still, she stared straight ahead as she unclasped the front of her bra and released it, letting her tits hang free. To be honest, between the fact that here tits sagged just a bit too much, and the roll of flab underneath, I wasn't turned on. Then the magnitude of what just happened hit me. Looking down, I saw that the clipboard had also turned the PA mike on. It just MIGHT have been coincidence. I had to be sure. Over the next few moments I had her feeling her tits, rubbing her crotch through her pants (sorry, but hefty folks should NOT wear spandex), and for the sake of tradition, barking like a dog. There was no question about it, she was completely under my verbal control. My mind was filled with possibilities. Suddenly I realised she might remember all of this. Quickly, I commanded her to replace all her clothing, and forget what happened, remembering only that the session ran a little long, but was otherwise unremarkable. Finally, I killed the light generator. After a few seconds, Betty blinked rapidly a few times, then started to disconnect herself from the monitors. As she did so, I asked her the routine questions, including did she notice anything unusual? "Not at all," she replied, perfectly normally. As she left, I was silently thankful that I had not proceeded with my coffee plans. Now, I had to ponder my next step. Clearly, I had stumbled on something major here. Reality check. I SHOULD notify my professor about what I had done, but if I did, he would publish, claiming all the credit, and quite possibly the funding that provided MY job. I decided it couldn't hurt to wait a while. Quickly, I covered my tracks. Copying the new settings, I reset the controller, then edited the EEG and video records. It was a shame that the video tape was apparently bad, but nothing important happened that session, right? Filling out all the paperwork as if nothing had happened was simple, 'nothing' had been the result so many times, we actually reproduced some of the test forms with the key areas already completed. Locking up, I left the lab and returned to my apt. With the information in my bag, I could recreate the accident later, without anyone being the wiser. On the way back, I pondered possible uses for this new discovery. Robbing a bank, etc was not a practical idea, the light systems was just not portable enough. It was actually while passing a theatre on the way home that it hit me. Some stage hypnotist was performing there, and the poster outside showed him in the classic 'mesmer' pose (bent over, arms out, waggling fingers), as a little girl in a dress stared raptly at him. I just knew what I was going to do. If this worked, my fantasies would come true, with no risk to myself. I climbed into bed, and masturbated myself to sleep, fantasies running amok in my brain. Chapter 2 - First Run The next day was my day off, and I quickly made the rounds of local electronic stores to gather what I needed. It cost most of my savings, but what they hey. With the materials in hand, I headed for the youth center. It was no trouble to convince the athletic director to let me install the new lighting that an 'anonymous benefactor' had provided. He figured it was probably someone at the school, and I saw no reason to disabuse him of the notion. Five hours later, I wiped the sweat from my face and surveyed my handiwork. Hidden between the spots I installed for camouflage, the smaller multicolored lights from the projector apparatus were unremarkable. But, when activated, the spots would cut out, flooding the entire room with the flash patter I had hardwired into it. To make sure no one could accidentally trigger the system, it could be activated only by a wireless remote system that required three separate signals to activate. Slipping on a pair of heavy sunglasses for protection (we had already realised that heavy light dampening alters the effect), I triggered the remote. Immediately, the room darkened, and the tell-tale light pattern appeared. As a bonus, I realised after I turned the device off that the spots did make a hell of an improvement in the gym lighting, too. I locked the gymnastics room up, and left. The next two days were hell. I alternated between anticipation of what upcoming events could bring, guilt over not telling my prof, and fear of getting caught after all. By the time practice night arrived, I was almost ready to call the whole thing off. But the sight of my students in the gymnastics center restored my sense of purpose. My entire class was 19 students, aged 7-16, plus two 17 year-old assistants who worked with me as spotters, etc. I'll tell you about them all as I get to them, that way you hopefully won't get confused. Usually, only a dozen or so made it to each practice, 9 regulars and a few others. The assistants were both almost always there. I had competed in gymnastics in high school and college (and took my share of ribbing, I assure you). Using that background, I set up the workout routine I would have used given my choice. The girls worked in groups of 3-4 at each event, assisted be myself or an assistant. And, if while spotting, my hand brushed a leotard covered ass crack or crotch, well, accidents DO happen. No one had ever complained, at least. The workouts were scheduled from 6:30 - 8:30 at night, but usually ran a bit long, so I never got out before 10:00. During the whole workout, I was afraid to trigger the device, in case what happened with Betty was a fluke, and not everyone was was affected. I tried to find some way to reduce the group size, but couldn't, and moaned under my breath in frustration as the practice finished and the kids left. I was going to clean up and head home, when Tammy, one of my assistants came up to me. "Hey Mark? No one is home at my place, and I don't have my car tonight. Can you give me a ride home?" "Sure!" I replied, as I fumbled in my bag for the keys. I often gave the girls a ride when when they needed it. Suddenly my hands brushed the remote, and I realised my opportunity. Glancing at Tammy, I asked her, "Hey, are the new lights flickering a bit?". Ash she looked up, I squeezed my eyes shut and triggered the remote. I could sense the lights dim, and reached in my bag for the wrap-around sunglasses. Finding them, I slipped them on, and opened my eyes cautiously, ready to make some 'sunglasses at night' joke, if the lights didn't work. Tammy was standing in the same position, staring blankly and swaying slightly in place. She blinked slowly, as Betty had done. Description time, I suppose. Tammy was about 5'6" tall, 100-110 maybe. She had long, light brown hair which she kept banded back in a pony tail, and green eyes. She had put on a grey Notre Dame sweatshirt and sweatpants set over her green leotard to protect her from the fall chill outside. I stepped in front of her. The moment of truth had arrived. "Tammy, please take off your sweatshirt." Her hands didn't hesitate as she grabbed the hem of the garment and started to pull it up. Bending over, she pulled the back over her head and stood up, slipping it off her arms. Limply, she dropped the shirt to the floor. I had been told Tammy had been a fairly gifted gymnast, but unfortunately, her chest developed early and large, making a career in the sport an impossibility. That chest was clearly visible through the tight leotard, as was the sports bra beneath. "Now, the pants, please." Again, without emotion, she quickly skinned off the grey pants, slipping them over her white sneakers. As I admired the smooth motion of her calf muscles as they were revealed, I reached around and cupped her ass. No reaction. Damn. This was not going to be any fun if the girls never reacted. I thought for a second, them came up with a different idea. "Tammy, I am going to ask you some questions. You will tell me the truth. Ok?" "Ok." she replies, somewhat tonelessly. "Do you have a boyfriend?" "Yes." "Have you ever kissed him?" "Yes." "Ever had sex with him?" "Yes." Not a virgin then. That helped. "Tammy, when I clap my hands three times, you will awaken. You will think I am your boyfriend, who you snuck in here with to have sex, which you are really in the mood for. When I clap my hands twice, you will return to just like you are now. Do you understand?" I honestly didn't know if this would work, whether the suggestibility imposed by the lights allowed for this level of complexity. It did. Clap. Clap. Clap. The response was immediate. Her expression cleared and she launched herself into my arms. I felt her legs clamp around my waist as she locked her lips to mine. Staggering from the unexpected weight, I wasted no time in returning the kiss as I slid my hands under her firm ass to support her weight. We sucked face for a few moments as I rhythmically squeezed her butt. I felt her tongue flick at my lips and push inside. Nope, she was definitely no novice. I opened my mouth to hers, and our tongues clashed. I almost came right then and there as I realised the 17 year old was totally mine. My arms were beginning to tire, so I knelt, allowing me to lower Tammy to the mat covered floor. As she hit the surface, she laid back, arms over her head. Her legs relaxed, releasing me, and we resettled ourselves so that I was kneeling over her waist. Reaching down, I placed one hand on each of her breasts through her leotard and bra. As I massaged gently, her eyes closed and a small moan came from her lips. I wanted to take it slow, but I just couldn't wait. I slid my hands up to her shoulders and grasped the neck of her leotard. The spandex stretched, amazingly so, as I slipped the material off her body, leaving her in just her white bra and panties. Normally, I was a great one for foreplay, but this was just too much. The sports bra went flying over her head, and the panties came down, catching on her sneaker, as had the leotard. As I stripped off my own clothes in record time, I could see the wetness on her brown pubic hair. Apparently, she wasn't used to waiting. She lay there, legs slightly spread, moaning quietly, as I positioned myself over her. Using my feet, I spread her legs further apart, and with great presence of mine, reached into my bag for a condom. Pulling it on as fast as I could, I positioned myself with my hand and entered her with one quick thrust. As my dick (2" wide, 8" long, so you don't ask) plunged into her, she let out a groan and her hips bucked. I started to stroke in and out, but between the incredible tightness and the overall eroticism of the whole scene, it was only a matter of strokes before I felt myself start to erupt. A wave of energy ripped through me and I collapsed on top of the young teen who was still gasping and moaning. As I stopped, she looked at me, clearly disappointed. She started to to say something "Just like usual..." as I rolled off, but I clapped my hands twice and the blank stare returned. As I checked my glasses, I thought to myself it was lucky she hadn't tried to remove them or they hadn't fallen off. I also made a mental note to be MUCH more thorough next time, apparently her boyfriend wasn't. I took a few moments to recover, then, since she had told me her parents would be away late earlier, I did some more testing. I discovered that it wasn't necessary to keep the lights running as long as she was given instructions, but if left in 'hold mode' with the lights off, the trance faded rapidly. Not wanting to depend solely on the lights, I stole an idea from a story I had read. Having tested that post-hypnotic suggestions worked, I gave her a code word, that when spoken by only me, would return her to the trance state. Her code was 'Purple Aardvark.' Finally, I gave her one last instruction. She was to make sure to bring Sarah, the other assistant to a 'meeting' at the gym tomorrow night. Finally, I ordered her to dress and forget what had just happened. I wasn't quite sure how she'd explain the wetness between her legs, but I had already realised her subconscious would come up with something. Instead, I told her to remember we had spent the extra time talking about stuff. Shutting off the lights, I waited till she returned to normal, then I drove her home as we chatted about sports. When I got back to my own pad, I dropped into an exhausted sleep. The next AM, there was a message on my machine from my prof, saying he got called out of town, giving me the next three days off, with pay! What great timing! I had no classes that semester, so I took advantage of the time to hit the library and read up on hypnotism. By the time I was done, I knew just what I was going to do. This was going to be one hell of a semesterr.