Not for the first time, Connor considered his limitless credit card as the limitless prison it was. Or so his former handlers thought. He could go anywhere and buy anything with it. Of course, he could withdraw cash from and ATM with it but they'd still know where he was and could track to see what he purchased with the paper stuff. He doubted they cared if he was buying Lobster Thermidor in Paris or a fifteen year-old hooker in Pattya Beach. But he was sure their interest was to see if any delayed abilities from their experiments ever came to the fore.
There had never been any delayed abilities. But here had been the instant results that gave him the ability to nudge minds and sense strong thoughts. However, he had kept them perfectly hidden and was dismissed as a failure on their part with the leash of financial freedom permanently attached.
That he had strengthened and refined his abilities while keeping them hidden from the general and the others gave him no satisfaction. Naturally, he had to hide them or it was back to the laboratory for him. But his little activities of neural sex gave him plenty of thrills while he thumbed his nose at the walls and surveillance cameras of his would-be dungeon.
His forays in the minds (and by proxy, the bodies) of young girls had been done on night-time flights where he was left satisfied and his temporary lovers had been left in shock and wonder. With one exception, the little cunnies he had ravaged had been virgin. And despite both he and his partners feeling his prick pounding the snug holes, the precious cherries had been left intact although the nervous systems of the girls remembered the intercourse quite well.
Ever since his second time, that with a four year-old, he had also somehow been able to project his ejaculation into his partner. Aside from the symptoms of the girls' arousals, his semen was the only physical manifestation of the carnal link between their minds. Connor did no research on the matter in case his watchers discovered his sudden interest in the brain's untapped potential. What he surmised was that an orgasm, being the peak of the body's response, allowed him this momentary capacity to project. Hell, at least it kept his own pants dry.
Connor's philosophical thoughts were put away in favor of those more basic. At the moment, he was surreptitiously studying the lovely posterior of a young girl at the airport gate. With gentle probes of her mind and those of her family, he learned her name was Cammie and that she was all of nine years old.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Monday, June 13, 2016