I strolled into the gym, dressed in shorts and a ragged old T-shirt. People were drifting in, gathering for the fitness class scheduled to begin in a few minutes. The “norms” scattered around the floor, stretching and loosening up, looked fit and healthy; I’d selected an advanced class for my day’s recreation. The women, who outnumbered the men by a considerable margin, were generally dressed in body-hugging clothing. Spandex was common among the men, too; they mostly seemed to be of that irritating “Serious Exerciser” type, anxious that their clothing should state, “Hey, I do this all the time.”
“Norms?” Normals, you know; people who can’t impose their will on other people, the way that I can. Call it projective telepathy, call it what you will. How’d I get to be this way? That’s not a subject I care to discuss, for reasons I’m also not interested in pursuing. Don’t worry, though: should we ever meet, Gentle Reader, you’ll be far too busy hastening to obey my every command to worry about the origin of my power. Some might say that I don’t put my powers to constructive use; they might even go so far as to accuse me of being rather petty and vindictive, even cruel at times. I recall a young man who said something along those lines to me, right to my face. Poor fellow; I may have been a bit hard on him, I must admit. I’ll not go into the sordid details here. Hey, he’s alive, all right?
I sauntered around the edge of the gym, casually checking out the female population. Choosing the advanced workout had been wise, I could see immediately; these women were uniformly taut and lean, right up my alley. They invested a lot of time in their bodies, clearly, and were interested in showing off their well-muscled forms, chiseled out through rigorous diet and exercise.
One young lass in particular caught my eye as she bent over and stretched, and I headed towards her. Before I reached her, however, a couple of macho-male jock types crossed my path, talking loudly and not watching where they were going. The one in front collided with me quite solidly, his shoulder meeting mine and knocking me off balance for a moment.
“Hey, sorry, guy,” he boomed, slapping me on the back. They moved past me.
“Hold on a moment,” I said. “Come back here.”
They turned around obediently and stood in front of me. I looked them over. “I think you’re a couple of obnoxious jock assholes. Don’t you agree?”
They nodded silently.
“Say it.”
“We’re a couple of obnoxious jock assholes,” they chimed, creating a pleasant stereo effect.
“Again, please.”
They said it again.
“Well,” I said, “we’ll just have to… Oh, hang on.” A few people nearby were beginning to take notice of this little scene unfolding before them; it was time to take care of that. You will notice nothing unusual about anything that may occur in this gym, I wide-projected to everyone in the place. I then slapped up a couple of repeating fields over the only two doors, projecting that same command over and over; anyone who entered would receive instructions to see nothing peculiar. People returned to their chatting and warming up, the behavior of my two “friends” forgotten.
“Well,” I resumed, “we’ll just have to do something about that, won’t we? For the next four months, I want you to do no exercise at all, OK?”
“All right.” “Sure.”
“And twice a day you’ll be overwhelmed with a craving for chocolate bars, ice cream, potato chips, that sort of thing. See if you can gain fifty or sixty pounds for me, will you? And lose all that nasty muscle tone. Do you guys have girlfriends?”
They both nodded. “Do you have sex with them often?”
“Every couple days.” “Twice a week, maybe.”
I smiled. “You’ll be impotent with them for the next four months. No, make it six months, and make it with everyone, not just them. Now, what’s the most expensive item you own?”
“My stereo system.” “My computer.”
“Why don’t you go home right now and smash those up for me? After you’ve made sure the things are destroyed, you’ll have no idea why you did it, all right? Forget about me, except that you will of course keep following my orders. Go.”
They wandered off, wearing that amusingly puzzled look norms tend to get when they can sense that they’re about to do something tremendously foolish, but have no idea why, and even less idea what to do about it. I laughed aloud. You norms bring me no end of amusement, you really do. Such a vast pool of things to play with, and all of them without the most elementary of mental defenses.
My petty revenge having been exacted—yes, I admit it, but I don’t let anyone else say such things—I continued towards the girl. She wore pink leggings with a black leotard. The leotard plunged into a thong in back, emphasizing her firm ass underneath the clingy pink material. Her breasts were rather large; the bra that held them up was clearly visible in outline under the leotard’s fabric.
I strolled up and placed a hand on her butt. She turned her head to look casually over her shoulder at me, not finding this unusual, of course; her gaze was just mildly curious.
“You don’t mind,” I said. Not a question.
“No, of course not.” She returned to her conversation with two of her friends, neither of whom remarked upon my presence.
I ran both hands over that tight ass, then down her long, muscular legs, enjoying the feel of her body. “This is getting you turned on,” I informed her. I ran my hands back up one leg, then brushed lightly over her cunt with my fingertips. She gasped. I continued upwards, over her flat stomach, to her breasts. Her nipples were large and hard, perceptible even through two layers of material. She moaned slightly as my hands moved over her.
I moved behind her and hugged her to me, moving one hand over her tummy and the other over her tits. I could feel the flesh of her ass pressing against my erection as I buried my face in her long blond hair, pleased by the scent of it. I rubbed my hard-on against her, and she moved her hips against me in response. She had dropped out of the conversation by this point, her level of excitement having rendered it difficult for her to speak.
A female voice rang out from the opposite side of the gym. “Just about a minute ‘til we get started, everybody! Just let me get the music set up…” The aerobics instructor had obviously arrived while I had been distracted. I caught a glimpse of her through the crowd. Holy smokes! Definitely worthy of closer investigation.
But before I moved on, this lovely thing I was touching had earned a bit of a reward. “You’re about to have an orgasm,” I whispered in her ear. “3, 2, 1… Now.” I felt her spasm against me, and she let out a low cry. “Again, 3, 2, 1… Now. And again, 3, 2, 1… Now. Have a nice day.” I left her there, her face contorted with pleasure as the multiple climaxes peaked and died away. See? I have my moments of generosity, spreading a little joy in this dark and sad world. Well, I’m told it’s dark and sad, anyway; I hadn’t really noticed, myself.
The instructor was a truly spectacular specimen, I found when I approached. She wore an all-white outfit, leotard over leggings; her body definitely did not need the concealing effect of darker colors. Her breasts were of a medium size, not large, but wonderfully well-shaped and very firm. Her arms were slender yet toned. The flat panels of her stomach were outlined by the leotard, as were the strong muscles of her long legs. Even her ass was well-muscled.
