Tuesday. Heather was the first.

While Melinda was in the shower, Heather pulled the blankets and sheets from Melinda's bed. She took Melinda's clothes from the dresser and dumped them on the floor. She then made sure her mother knew that Melinda had not picked up her part of the room. Melinda was not allowed to leave the house until she cleaned up the mess.

When it looked like Richie was going to get there just ahead of her, she picked up a rock and threw it at him. It hit him on the calf and made him stumble just enough for her to overtake him.

That day, she took Jason for her own pleasure, and made Richie fuck Melinda senseless.

Wednesday. Richie was next.

He placed an anonymous call to the Haven police department claiming a child was being beaten up by her parents at the Sovert household. The police took a better part of an hour to be convinced by repeated statements from both the parents and children that no abuse was taking place.

When Richie saw Jason reach the intersection first, he gave chase and tackled Jason just short the gate, giving Jason a vicious punch to the gut before heading inside.

That day, Richie made Heather and Melinda sixty-nine the entire time, with occasional pauses to suck him off. He made Jason just stand off to the side and masturbate.

Thursday. Jason succumbed next.

Under the cover of darkness, he crept into his parents room and took the modem back. After hooking it up, he broke into the computer system of a local landscaping company and altered their schedule. Their first job was now tearing up the front yard of Richie's house bright and early at seven in the morning. He then broke into the Haven Water and Sewer department computer and convinced it that the Soverts were three months behind in their water bill. Someone would be over at six to dutifully turn off their water.

So as Richie was forced to help his mother deal with backhoes and bulldozers overrunning their yard and driveway, and Melinda and Heather had to deal with no water for a shower until the parents convinced the water company to turn the water back on, it allowed him to make it to the house first.

Jason decided to show how "responsible" he could be with the power, and made no one do anything particularly embarrassing. But he did keep Melinda extremely horny the entire time without allowing her to so much as touch herself for relief. Just to even the score with her for Monday, that's all.

Friday. Melinda has her turn again.

Melinda had no elaborate plan. She simply sneaked out of the house while it was still dark, leaving behind a note for Heather. In the note, Melinda offered a deal: she would go easy on her big sister that day if Heather covered for her with Mom for leaving the house early.

Unfortunately for Jason, Melinda did not see the day before as merely a means to "even the score". She did to him and Richie what Jason had begged her not to do on Monday. Despite the fact that she limited it to using their hands, they were not at all pleased. Neither was Heather, as she was made to lick Melinda's pussy the whole time. Melinda dismissed Heather's complaints afterward. After all, Heather had said she liked it anyway, so what was the big deal?

And Melinda was not at all grossed out watching Jason and Richie.

Friday night.

Jason lay on his bed, brooding. Darkness slowly settled on the room as the sun went down, until the computer monitor was the brightest light in the room.

He had his internet back. He never put the modem back in his mother's dresser after he had used it earlier in the week. When his mother had tried to take it back, he had pushed at her with the power and forced her to relent. He had control of her for no more than a minute, just long enough to make her change her mind. When he had released her, however, she had backed away from him with a frightened look on her face.

She avoided any contact with him ever since.

He could not get out of his head what Melinda had made him do. It didn't matter to him that it was really similar to what Richie had made Melinda and Heather do, or that it could have been worse (she could have made them do exactly what Melinda and Heather had). Like a lot of boys his age, he considered it to be "different". It was okay for girls to go at it. But not boys. That's "different". Girls that did it were "hot"; boys that did it were "fags".

He had spent several hours now trying to devise a scheme for getting to the house first, but was not having much luck. The house had been right. He was the only one that could handle the power. He was the only one that would not abuse it.

There was a soft knock on his door. Surprised at this, he didn't reply at first until the knock came again, more insistent. "Uh, come in."

Jason's father open the door and stepped quietly inside, his face drawn and somber. Jason sat up quickly. "Dad? What are you doing home? I thought you were on call."

"I had someone cover for me," he said in a soft but crisp voice, closing the door behind him. "I need to talk to you."

Jason tensed, but otherwise did not react.

Henry stepped over to the bed. "Your mother is very upset, Jason. You know anything about it?"

"Uh ... well, we've, uh, not exactly seen eye-to-eye the last few days, Dad," Jason admitted sheepishly, though he was sure he was not telling his father anything the man did not already know.

"This goes beyond that. Something badly frightened her yesterday, and she's still upset by it."

Jason said nothing.

"I can't get Audrey to talk about it without her breaking down into tears."

Jason bit his lip. "I, uh, didn't know that," he said flatly.

Henry's face hardened. "Jason, if you know what's going on, I want you tell me. Now."

Jason's mind raced. "Well ... we argued about the internet."

"Yes, you connected it back up again without permission."

"I'm sorry. But ... but I worked it out with her."

Henry regarded his son with an even gaze for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was short. "Jason, I don't like leaving the office in the middle of important work. So I don't expect to stand here and have you refuse to tell me what's going on when I ask it of you."

Jason's heart pounded. "I know, Dad," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. He did not want to use it again. He hadn't wanted to use it on Mom. Now he felt a twinge of guilt over that, though not nearly as much as he might have felt at the time he did it.

It was getting easier for him to wield. First he stopped second-guessing it beforehand. Now the sting of actually using it was wearing off. He was more afraid of getting in trouble for it than anything else.

Henry continued to look at him expectantly.

"Dad, I really don't have anything else to tell you. I swear, I don't. I mean, yeah, she looked really upset after we argued about it, but ..."

"What did she tell you during your argument?"

"That, uh, I could keep the internet on."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why, Jason? Why did she say that? She had no intention of letting you have it back before that, and I sincerely doubt she would let you have it back after you stole it back from ..."

"I didn't steal it!" Jason objected.

"Don't talk back to me, Jason," Henry said, his voice rising, his eyes cold. "Now, I let Audrey handle these things because I know I'm not at home as often as she would like."

Jason bristled a little as he detected in his father's tone of voice that this actually suited the man just fine.

"But something strange is going on around here when she decides to let you have it back after you disobeyed her."

Jason sighed in exasperation and just shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you. She let me have it back. End of story."

Accept that, dammit, Jason thought vehemently, though he stopped just short of trying to use the power on him. Yet he was close to doing so. He already knew he was being more sharp with his father than he ever had been.

It didn't matter. He always had the power to fall back on if his father got too pissed.

I'll do it, Dad, he thought vehemently. Don't push me. I won't let you stop me. I'll do it.

"And what if I chose to take it away from you again?"

"But ... you won't," he said in a small voice. "Right?"

Henry paused, his gaze still even and steady. Finally, he sighed through his nose. "No, I won't," he said quietly.

As Jason looked at his father's face now, he thought he saw fear flicker in them for a brief instant.

"Jason, it's very unlike you to disobey your mother so much. This has to stop. I can't be home to referee arguments between you and her."

Now Jason could hear it in his voice. The man was afraid of him! Jason was at once elated and haunted by this idea. "So ... is that it?"

"Yes, I suppose it will have to be," Henry said neutrally. He turned towards the door.

"Dad, wait!"

Henry stopped and turned, silently regarding his son.

"I need to ask you something." Jason paused. When his father did not object, he continued. "What exactly do you do over at the hospital? Does Haven really have that many neurological patients?"

Henry paused a long moment. "Research, Jason," he said in a low voice.

"Research? On what?"

"How certain brain disorders and procedures can affect behavior and personality. I, uh, can't tell you any more details than that," Henry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Non-disclosure, legal stuff like that, you see."

Jason nodded slowly.

Henry turned away. "Remember what I told you, son. I don't want to have to talk to you about this again."

"Okay, Dad."

Jason watched him go.

After the door closed, Jason rubbed at his face and uttered an exasperated sigh. Behavior and personality research. Was his father recognizing what Jason had done to his mother? Or was he just guessing?

But did it really matter? His father wasn't immune to the power. Jason could keep his father at bay if he needed to do so. He'd only use the power when he needed it. He didn't want to control someone ...

(then she never wanted to get away)

... all the time. Just a little here and there ...

(Easier to stay ... Easier to cope)

... or ... or maybe ... maybe keeping someone under longer was better. Not for too long. Maybe those brief little bursts were bad, but keeping it longer was okay. After all, people get used to things eventually, right? And Jason knew not to abuse it. Who better than Mara would know that?

(that's when Mara Lake died)

Jason shuddered and turned over onto his side, and tried to think about something else for awhile.

Sandra fought to quell the rising tide of depression that began to surge shortly after she finished her meal, when the controlling fog slowly lifted from her mind. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and to stop herself from sobbing. She looked at her son as he finished up his own meal.

"Um, Richie?" Sandra asked tentatively.

Richie looked up. His face was still sullen and angry. "Yeah?"

Sandra swallowed. "I'd ... I'd like to go out tonight."

Richie paused. "Oh yeah?" he asked with a small smirk. "Do tell."

Sandra's fingers flexed nervously. "I made you a really nice dinner," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, forcing a small smile. "And I haven't been out of the house all week outside of work."

Richie fixed a steady gaze on his mother, his lips curling into a disapproving frown.

"Please, Richie. I won't be too late if you don't want me to be."

"Why do you need my permission, huh?"

Sandra took a deep breath and let it go. "Richie ... I know you've been doing something to me this past week."

Richie's fork paused halfway to his mouth.

"I don't ... I don't quite understand it, but ... "

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Sandra sighed, her eyes hardening. "Don't do this. Just ... just admit to it."

"I'm not doing anything to you."

Sandra's voice rose. "Yes, you are! Just own up to it!"

"You're crazy."

"I'm not crazy, you fuck ...!"

Sandra abruptly caught herself when Richie's fork clattered angrily to his plate.

"Richie, please," Sandra pleaded. "If you're trying to frighten me, then you've succeeded. I-I'm scared. I'm scared of you, Richie."

Richie said nothing in reply.

"Richie, you don't need to do it anymore. I promise I'll make dinner for you almost every night. I just want to be allowed to go out and enjoy myself a little. That's all."

"You don't enjoy yourself here?"

Sandra's lower lip trembled. "I-I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, you did," Richie said evenly. "Fine. Whatever."

Sandra paused. "So ... I can go out?"

"Sure. Go."

She managed a weak smile. "Thank you," she said. She rose from the table and started out of the room.

Richie glanced at her back, a small grin forming on his lips as she abruptly froze just short of the door. She uttered a small whimper, her body trembling for a few seconds as her mind was stolen from her a second time that day. Before long she let go with a slow, gentle sigh.

"Just making sure you 'enjoy yourself'," Richie said in a snide voice. "But make sure he enjoys himself, too. Make sure you do whatever he wants. Don't deny him anything."

"Of course, Richie," she said sweetly. "I'll do whatever he wants."

"Make yourself nice and slutty for him, okay? In fact, don't even bother with panties."

"Anything you say."

"Good girl," he said with a grin. "Run along."

Sandra left.

Richie smiled to himself and finished his dinner. By the time he was heading upstairs, his mother was on her way out, wearing a very tight pair of shorts and a tank top, exposing legs and midriff. He ignored her and retired to his bedroom.

He had no elaborate plans for the next day. He was going to get himself to bed early and get up at about four in the morning. He would head over to the house first, and just wait for the others. He figured that if they were going to try any more elaborate schemes to slow him down, he would just head them all off by getting out before dawn.

Supremely confident in his own cleverness, he fell asleep easily.

"Melinda."

The darkness remained silent.

"Melinda, you little cunt, I know you're awake."

A frustrated sigh and a turning over in bed. "What the fuck do you want now?"

"You did it again, didn't you?" Heather said accusingly. "You used it on Mom."

"Yeah, so?"

"I told you not to do that again."

"And when was I supposed to start taking orders from you?"

Heather sighed. "Melinda, did you see her before going to bed?"

A pause. "No," Melinda said in a small voice.

"She was crying, Mel. I overheard her talking to Dad. She thinks she's going insane."

Melinda remained silent.

"You have to stop doing that."

"I wouldn't have to if you had covered for me like I asked you to!" Melinda cried softly.

Heather snorted in disgust. "Asked? Try extorted, snot-brain. And even then you acted like a little shit at the house anyway."

"Shut up."

"You made me lick you, you fucking little perv!" Heather hissed.

"I thought you liked that."

"I never said that!"

"Well ... maybe I liked it, how about that?"

"You just wanted to embarrass me."

A rustle of covers as Melinda sat upright in bed. "And you didn't want to do that to me?! You made Richie fuck me the other day!"

"Oh, I could have done far worse, Mel," Heather said as she sat up as well. "And I just might still do it. And you know something? Maybe I won't let you go this time. I'd love having a little sister who will do exactly what I want her to do and will shut the fuck up and leave me alone when I want!"

"Oh yeah? Maybe I'd love to have a big sister that will give everything her little sister wants, like taking down those posters of your stupid airhead pop stars, or who'll stop using the phone like it's attached to her skull, or stop badmouthing me to Mom all the time!"

They seethed at each other in silence for a few moments.

"I'm hardly even enjoying the sex at the house anymore," Heather muttered.

"So go fuck Brad the Wonder Twit then."

"Oh, I have. I least I can get him to do exactly what I want."

Melinda snorted loudly. "Yeah, and I'm not supposed to control Mom, huh?"

"It's not the same thing!"

"Bullshit."

More tense silence.

"No way you're fucking getting out of this house before me tomorrow morning, you little slut," Heather said.

"And don't think you're going to pull anything on me, either, you bitch," Melinda retorted.

"All right, that's enough. Look, we'll just both leave together tomorrow, okay?"

"Oh, of course, Miss Bossy!" Melinda said in a mocking voice. "Ooo, I'm your little slave, I'll do whatever you want!"

"Mel, you suck."

"Fuck you, Heather."

Heather took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. "I'm trying to call a truce, you little ... " She stopped herself and paused a moment before continuing. "Unless you have some great master plan to sneak out again, what choice do you have?"

Melinda sighed.

"I'm not asking you to do anything else, all right? Just let's leave together. Then we'll figure things out after that."

"Just don't pull any shit with me, Heather," Melinda warned. "I'm not taking it from you anymore."

"Fine, okay. Truce?"

Melinda hesitated. "Truce," she said in a low voice.

"Good night, then."

"Good night."

Both settled down and were still. Neither went to sleep quickly, as each one's mind raced with ideas to beat the other one to the house the following morning.

Something jolted Richie awake in the middle of the night.

He rolled over in bed with a yawn, and squinted at the clock. It was just past one in the morning. He wondered what had awoken him when he heard someone climbing the stairs outside his room. He cursed softly to himself. It was just his damn mother coming home from her "date".

Richie sighed and settled down again, closing his eyes. He heard his mother reach the stairs and pause, then finally walk by his room. Any moment he expected to hear her burst out giggling, like she always did after a night of great sex. Instead, as she passed and continued rather slowly to her room, he heard something that sounded vaguely like a sob.

He raised his head briefly, frowning, and listened. His mother entered her bedroom and closed the door behind her, and then there was silence.

Richie lowered his head and closed his eyes. He heard her use the bathroom and prepare for bed, and then settle in for the night. He was about to drift off himself when the quiet was broken again.

He slowly sat up in bed and cupped a hand against one ear. What the hell? he thought.

He kept listening, but he could not make up his mind exactly what he was hearing. He slipped out of bed and crept out of his room and down the hall. He was halfway there when he stopped, confusion coming over his face.

It sounded almost as if someone were crying.

A twinge of anxiety in his stomach, Richie stepped close to the bedroom door, until the sound came very clearly to him. It was his mother crying, her soft sobs coming through the closed door. He glanced down and saw that there was a light on still in her room.

Richie raised his hand to the door to knock, but stopped himself. Instead, he grasped the knob and opened the door just enough to peer inside.

Richie's eyes first fell on her mother's back. She was turned away from him on the bed, curled up tightly into a near fetal position. Beside her on the night table, her lamp glowed on the lowest setting. Sandra's face was turned into the pillow, her body trembling as she sobbed. At first, Richie could not understand what was wrong until his eyes fell on one of her arms.

That's where he saw the welts.

His mouth dropped open as he stared. Ugly slashes of bright red, swollen and tender, covered her arm. Swallowing hard, he dared to push the door open a little further, and had to bite down on his lip to stop from uttering a gasp when he saw her bare legs, also covered in criss-crossing bright red marks.

"M-Mom?"

Sandra gasped loudly and jerked her body around, staring at Richie with frightened, wide, bloodshot eyes. Her nightgown fell open and one of her breasts poked out from between the folds. It was also covered in welts.

"Mom, what ... wh-what ..."

"Get out!" Sandra cried. "Get the fuck out!"

"But, Mom, what ...?"

"Let him do whatever he wants, you said!" she wailed. "Don't deny him anything!"

Richie felt a chill. "But I didn't mean ...!"

"But he did! GET OUT!"

She picked up one of her shoes and hurled it. Richie just managed to close the door before it glanced off the door with a loud report.

He fled back to his room and jumped into bed, pulling the sheets over him, breathing hard, his eyes wide open in shock.

Richie tried to calm himself. That could not have been his fault! He did not mean for her date to whip her! How could he have meant that? He'd never wish that of his own mother!

No, this wasn't possible. It had to be her mother that wanted it, and now when she found she didn't like it as much as she thought, she was trying to blame Richie. Or she was trying to shock him into not controlling her anymore. That had to be it.

He swallowed. Maybe he just had to keep controlling her. If she never came out of it, this wouldn't come up. She'd just cheerfully accept everything and always be happy. That was good, wasn't it? He never wanted his mother to be sad or scared. Making someone happy can't be bad, can it?

That's all he wanted to do was make everyone happy when he was using his power. He didn't even withhold anyone from cumming at the house, even though they did it to him. He made sure they were satisfied. More than ever now, he knew he had to keep control. He couldn't trust anyone, otherwise they might do something as bad as was done to his mother.

He could not lose this fight. No longer. It was too critical now.

Richie tried to will himself to fall back asleep. It was only after his mother had cried herself to sleep that he was able to drift off again.

Feedback

Did you like this story? Hate it? Printed it and lined the birdcage with it?

Please take a moment to send me some comments about this story. Your comments may remain anonymous if you prefer, or you can include an email address in your comments if you wish a reply.

Since this is a multi-part story, you may wait until the last chapter to send feedback about the story as a whole if you wish.