Alan's Thoughts Ch. 10

His father stared. "And... and they do it? Anything?"

"Well, as long as it's simple. They stop after a couple seconds when they realize what's going on. But I can definitely make them climax every time, any time. The harder I push, the bigger th bang. Body functions they don't have full control over seem to work best."

His father's eyes were wide. "My god. That's... of the stories I've heard, only one or two in our family history could do something like that. That's getting into the big leagues, Alan. You've gotta be extremely careful with... why are you giving me that look?" He leaned forward, mouth opening slightly. "Uh... there more?"

"Um... yeah." Alan shifted a bit in his seat. "I've had a couple... odd incidents. You see, I was in a small car accident, and ever since... well, there was this time when I had a sort of out of body experience, where I could see and feel and hear, but my body was just sort of below. And I'm not sure I was exactly... 'Influencing' my nurse, a hot redhead, but I definitely had some sort of effect on her, since she kinda... well, she jumped my bones while I was unconscious, but watching. Following that, things have been a crazy whirlwind."

Alan's words started to tumble out. "A couple times I've had dreams where I was having sex with someone, and I swear I actually was—it felt way too real, and the way they reacted when they saw me later in real life... but most recently has been the biggest problem. Ever since I woke up in that hospital bed, it's like I've lost control. I can't stop having sex, I can do it over and over and over, and all of the things I could do before are way stronger, and girls are just throwing themselves at me if I'm even a little attracted and I can't seem to resist it and I feel like it's killing me little by little because I just can never rest, and..."

Alan trailed off as his father's expression grew more shocked and concerned. "Dad?"

"My God," he said quietly. "I had no idea... I'm so sorry, Alan. I guess... I guess it's like the old saying: great talents mature late." He drew a deep breath. "Well, I'm very glad you reached out. I'm not sure how much help I can be, but..."

Alan felt his stomach tighten.

"Now, don't look at me like that. I can be of a little help, I'm pretty sure. And that might be all you need." He leaned forward. "Alan, let me make something clear. If what you're saying is right, you're one of the most powerfully endowed in the history of the family. The sheer variety of your powers, and the strength... I can think of only two, maybe three who had anything like it. And all of those three had powers by the dozen at their command. They were legends, and not all in a good way. If you have more than two or three abilities, chances are you have a lot more, and you just haven't sussed them out yet. That puts you in a unique, and dangerous, position."

He held up a finger. "First, let me just ask: Have you done anything that you regret? That you can never undo?"

Alan hesitated. "I... I don't THINK so. Made a couple women more interested in sex, I guess. Cheated with a couple married people. But I don't think I've... ruined anybody."

John heaved a sigh. "Good, good. Those are the hardest to overcome. Guilt and self loathing can lead you down a bad path quick, but if you haven't gone down that way yet, you're in pretty good shape." He hesitated. "As long as some vengeful husband doesn't kill you, that is. More than a couple relatives of ours have died that way, you know."

Alan swallowed. He suddenly thought about the suspicious nature of his car accident, and decided not to mention it.

"But now, you feel out of control, is that it? Like it's on all the time, and you can't stop it?"

Alan nodded vigorously.

"Well, my memory might be a little faded, but I recall Grandpappy Alan, your namesake you recall, telling me a story about an ancestor of ours—pappy was the one that trained me, you know, as much training as we do, so much of my lore I got from him. Although I've since—"

"Dad," Alan said through clenched teeth. "Please. The chase. Cut to it."

His father patted his chest. "Sorry, sorry. Anyway, one of those three powerful ones I mentioned—Alastair was his name. This was back before we got the family name Miller, because it was Alastair's son that built the mill. In the family, we call him Alaster the Great. Not to be confused with Alexander the Great, although the two names have the same root. No, Alastair was mostly of northern European descent, and he lived something near 400 years ago."

Alan bit his tongue to stop himself from hurrying his dad along again. It really never helped.

"And not too unlike Alexander," John Miller rambled, "who raised armies and conquered wherever he went, the story goes that after Alastair took a blow to the head in a skirmish, he started raising orgies and conquering maidens wherever he went." His face twitched a smile. "It's no coincidence that we have a good chunk of extended family throughout Europe thanks to Alastair."

"Nifty. How did he stop? Did he go back to normal?"

"Yes, he did go back to normal. Or at least, normal for him. We're pretty sure he died of disease, so it's hard to tell for sure. But according to granpappy, he was going like gangbusters, getting weaker and weaker running his body ragged, until he met an old monk traveling from the east. Under the teaching of the monk, Alastair meditated by himself on a mountain, thinking nothing and everything, for a day and a night."

Alan frowned. "Uh, he did what now?"

John Miller held up hands to hold Alan's horses. "Look, I don't remember for sure all the details of the history. I'm getting older, you know, so that kinda thing gets—"

"Then why bother giving those details if you can't even remember them? Just skip them!"

His father looked offended. "Context, Alan, context. You gotta know how it fits together. But okay, I know you want to get feeling better ASAP, and what grandpappy taught me about the exercise is simple enough. Well, simple to explain, but hard to do."

He held up a finger. "First you gotta isolate yourself. It's hard enough to do this without distractions. Lock your door, wear earmuffs, whatever. If you can get to a mountain top, great, but a stream or a waterfall or a forest would work fine, too. Then, you start by thinking about nothing."

There was a pause. "Uh, nothing?" Alan repeated.

His father nodded firmly. "Yup. Really, nothing. Don't think about anything. But don't fall asleep."

Alan rubbed his temple. "This already sounds impossible."

John shrugged. "I never thought it was that hard. You just seperate off for a space. Try to be as empty as possible, not a sound or a feeling in you. It doesn't have to be incredibly long, just enough to feel that bit of empty, and to strip away all your emotion. That's Step 1."

He held up another finger. "Step 2, once you're there in that empty, you have to focus on your breathing. Just the sound of your breath coming in and out. Once you've got that, add your heartbeat. Dwell on just those two for a good while."

John spread his hands wide. "Then add more things. Think about all the things that your brain usually filters out: the way your skin feels against your clothes, your tongue in your mouth, your eyelids, any smell or sounds or sights around you, your muscles, your gut, your feet. Try to think about them all at once, sense them at once. Hold that. Your brain might hurt a bit, but you gotta hold it. Then, drop them all off again one by one, until you get down to your breathing, and then nothing again." His father dusted off his hands. "Rinse and repeat."

Alan tilted his head. "That sounds like a great way to get a headache."

John nodded. "And you do, sometimes. In fact, if I recall correctly, you might experience impaired ability to use your ability for a while afterwards. Especially if you've been overusing it. But if you can do the exercise regularly, just a bit, you should be able to refine your control and prevent these... overdrives from happening. That's the concentration half that hones your abilities." He smiled blandly. "Historically, we've often found that the labido half is seldom in short supply."

Alan rocked anxiously, tapping his chin."So you're saying if I do this mind exercise, not only will I stop going on overdrive all the time, but I could be more powerful after?"

His father nodded. "Well, more like more precise, but it amounts to the same thing, since I found efficacy goes up. And again, that's after you recover. And it's not 100%, either—sometimes your body just needs good ol' fashioned rest. And try eating meat with lots of iron in it. That helps, too."

Alan leaned back, letting out a breath. "Okay. I really hope it works. I'm not going to last at this rate."

"It should at least help." John Miller hesitated. "Do you have any questions?"

"I don't think so. I want to try this right away."

"Okay. I'm going to talk this over with your mother, but I think it's high time we came to visit. There's a lot more I can tell you, and teach you, but it's hard over a call like this. But first..."

He paused, body twisting just a little, as if it pained him. His mouth tightened. "Before you go, let me warn you about something."

Alan looked quickly up again. "What?"

His father drew a deep breath. "Well... it's about your brother." He leaned forward, his eye narrowed. "If I were you, I wouldn't mention anything about this to him. The less he knows about it the better, really."

Alan blinked. "Oh, so he didn't inherit it, so he doesn't know about it?"

His dad sighed. "Oh, he knows about it, alright. I'm serious, Alan. If you come into contact with him at all, try to keep a lid on it as much as you can. That won't last—Mark's very clever, I'll give him that—but I'd feel much but if you put it off as long as possible. At least until you've recovered, maybe mastered yourself a little more."

"Why?"

John Miller's jaw tensed a couple times before he answered. "Well... you know your brother's personality. He definitely likes being the alpha dog, likes things his way, and won't hesitate to snap at anything he sees as a threat. You saw that plenty of times yourself as a kid. I mean, four years ago when... never mind, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up."

Alan just stared at him, feeling his stomach sour.

"What I mean to say is... you remember the three I said in our history that were near as strong as you? He's one of them. And by all that I've seen, he might just outstrip ol' Alastair himself." He jabbed a finger at the screen. "He's got power, real power. Has for years now. And he knows how to use it. Please, stay away from him as much as you can."

***

Alan pressed both hands to his temples. He didn't know if he was making progress or not, but if his head hurting like hell was a good thing, he was doing an amazing job at this whole mental exercise thing.

Shaking himself, he took a look around. He didn't have the patience to climb a mountain or go deep into a forest, and the three waterfalls he'd found a reasonable distance away were tourist spots that saw a lot of foot traffic. But in the middle of plowing through sites, he remembered a little stream in the suburbs ten miles or so away.

It took him a bit of wandering after he'd parked in a picnic area until he found someplace secluded enough. There was a spot where the stream bent, trees hung low over the area, and a one lane bridge crossed it. Alan sat cross legged under the bridge. It had some faded graffiti, and was more than a bit dirty, but the sound of the stream filled the concrete structure, and it was a little cooler than being out in the blazing sun.

He reached one hand into the stream, feeling the bright, mostly clear water trickle passed his fingers. He splashed his face lightly with the droplets, wiping away some sweat. Then he took a deep breath, and tried again.

He was having an awful lot of trouble with the first step. Humans, he thought, were always thinking about *something*. To think was their nature. The only time it might not be true is when... well, they were just reacting, or going on autopilot. But even then they were still thinking about something, just not what they were doing. So he had trouble even conceptualizing thinking about nothing. And any time he got thought he might have gotten close, thinking that he had gotten close foiled it, or he just started to nod off.

So he tried skipping the step, and just starting with thinking about his breathing and heartbeat, and then all the other things he could sense. That just resulted in the terrible headache.

He heaved a sigh.

Alan closed his eyes. He tried something different this time. He tried to imagine what it would be like if there were no light, or sound. Not only that, but what if time actually stopped. Not only would nothing be moving, it couldn't. An entire universe of empty stillness.

He sat in that for a moment. It felt... like nothing. And his headache eased, just a little.

Then he found his breathing.

***

When Alan finally emerged from under the bridge, it was close to sunset. He felt even weaker than he had that morning, but his headache was gone, and as he frowned and touched his forehead, he could swear something felt... different.

Trudging his way until he got back to the path that followed the stream, he moved up it until the picnic area came in view. Just then, he spotted someone on a bike in the distance ahead. As they peddled closer, he could make out that the long, lean form was a woman, dressed in a tight cycler's jacket in bright yellow, with tiny, tiny black shorts that showed off nicely toned legs.

She was damp with sweat, and as he watched, she stopped peddling and let the bike coast, pulling a water bottle out to take a long drink. This stretched the tight, ultralight jacket across her chest, showing off her tone and pert boobs.

After a moment, she spotted Alan in the path, and guided the bike slightly to one side. She glanced at him as she cruised by, tan faced and blonde hair peeking through her helmet. And then she glanced away. He watched her go by, noting the way her ass nicely filled out her shorts, and again how tiny those shorts were.

But she didn't stop, or even glance back at him.

Alan took a deep breath. "Here's hoping," he muttered.

***

Alan stopped by a drive through for a large, fatty burger to chomp out of his cast hand while his good one was on the wheel, and by the time he got home again, it was dark. He thumped up the stairs, unlocked his door, and closed it behind him just hard enough to hear the click of the latch.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn't alone.

"What the—" Alan jerked.

A man stood in the middle of the room. He was dressed in a dark suit, facing the far wall. His hands were deep in his pants pockets, and his legs slightly spread. He didn't turn around. "Hello, Alan," he said quietly.

Alan froze midway to grabbing his phone. He squinted in the dark, and then flipped the lightswitch on.

"Mark?"

Mark Vasseur turned just slightly, enough to look at Alan sidelong. He had finely chiseled features, with a square jaw, thick dark hair, and prominent eyebrows. The suit he wore was taylored, sweeping majestically around him in fine silk, emphasizing his broad shoulders and chest. Mark's eyes were pale blue, and caught even in the dim light.

Alan felt his whole body go tense. He had to work his jaw a moment to speak. "Mark, what are you doing inside my apartment?"

Mark turned and gave Alan a practiced smile. "Come on, Alan. Is that any way to greet your big brother? What's it been now, four years?"

"Something like that," Alan said, not moving, barely blinking. "What do you want?"

Mark let out a rich laugh. "C'mon, can't a man just stop by to pay family a visit?"

"I don't remember ever giving you my address," Alan said. "And people who are just paying visits usually call ahead first. Or at least, wait outside the door."

Mark continued to smile, and held up his hands. "Alright, you caught me. Obviously I can hide nothing from your fine detective mind."

Alan heard his teeth creeking a bit, and had to consciously relax his jaw again.

"I was hoping we'd have a chance to chat, but as you like, straight to the point." He took a few steps closer to Alan, and smiled down at him. It emphasized how he was just those few inches taller. "So tell me, brother mine: have you seen Mira lately?"

Alan stared up into Mark's eyes. He had to take a breath before answering just to keep his voice level. "You just missed her. She came by suddenly, crashed for a couple days. She left last night."

Mark nodded, a bit of his practiced smile flattening out. "I see. And the reason you chose not to inform me was...?"

"Her request. I figured she would would have just struck off on her own if I had told you where she was, so I thought at least this way she'd have a place to stay while she got an apartment."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "You think I wouldn't have been able to talk things over with her civilly?"

"I think the two of you have strong personalities," Alan said carefully, "and that she's in a rebellious phase."

Mark stared him down a moment longer, but his easy smile returned. "Point taken. Just wait until you have teenagers one day, and you'll see my plight. I love my baby girl, but she does run me a bit ragged." He let out a theatrical sigh. "Well then, tell me this: do you happen to know where she went?"

Alan frowned. "She was supposed to text me her new address." He check his phone. "It doesn't look like has yet."

Mark stared at him a moment. Then he gave three slow claps, pausing on the last one to clasp his hands together. "Nicely done. I'll give you points for honesty."

Alan felt his gut tighten, even more. "What are you talking about?"

Mark laughed, turning back to take a couple paces into Alan's apartment. "Well, I did what any father would do. A little research. After finally cracking Mira's password and getting her location turned on on her phone, the rest was child's play. Just a little digging, and it's easy to tell why she might have chosen this place to stay a couple days."

He leaned in a little, resting one hand against the wall, grinning. "And so, with my curiosity piqued, I decided to check up on what you've been up to. Unfortunately, it seems you're not much for social media (wise choice, really) but it didn't take much more effort to get a picture of the last couple years. And what do I find but it turns out little brother might not be the talentless reject of the family after all."

Alan felt his heartbeat start to jump. His palms were sweating.

Mark leaned back, looking Alan up and down. "Look at you, getting in shape, women crawling all over you. I'm almost proud." He paused. "And whoever set up that fansite has talent. But just a piece of friendly advice, though: I'd have her take it down. Publicity is no friend to people like us."

Alan only glared at him. Mark shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Anyway, regaled by women's tales of your sexual prowess, especially your propensity for causing climax on insertion, it became imminently obvious you were stacking the deck. So next chance I got, I made my way here. I had to see about this late-blooming phenomenon for myself."

Mark stared at him a moment longer. He gave a half smile, glanced around again, and then turned back toward the couch. He bent slightly to put his hand on it. "After coming here, I knew for sure it was true. This smell..." Mark took a deep breath, closing his eyes a moment with a smile. "I know this smell very well. It takes a lot more than one or two women, and a lot more than average sex to produce this kind of smell." He ran his hand across the surface. "So you're a couch man, eh? I always prefered the bed."