Thoughts are Like Books Ch. 02

It is one thing to hear other people's thoughts. It is another thing to have other people's feelings overwhelm you. It had happened last night with sexual desire, and then, wretchedly, this morning with Mike's hangover. Could I be overcome with someone else's anger? Did that make me dangerous?

I needed some measure of control, but since I wasn't at all sure how I was reading thoughts in the first place, it wasn't clear how I could block them. What I had first thought gave me an immense amount of power and control, was now threatening to make me a slave to other people's experiences.

Having no place I needed to be, I decided to make my way to the one place I might learn something about mind reading and mind control, the British Library.

One advantage of living in London is that you have access to the best resources of one of the wealthiest countries on the planet. The British Library is just such a place, though sadly, I was not much of a scholar. Still, I knew that the library itself contained a large collection of works on every kind of subject and that it held a copy of every book printed in the UK and Ireland. Somewhere in its massive resources, there had to be something on mind reading.

Luckily, of course, everything was computerized, which meant I didn't have to have the embarrassing conversation with a librarian about what I was looking for and where to find it. I noticed her sorting books behind the counter, but deftly slipped in without drawing her attention.

Simple searches on mind reading and mind control would suffice, but in such a large collection, the searches I made returned an overwhelming number of possible resources, most of which I assumed would be useless.

Still, as this new ability both promised and threatened to change my life, the hard work of research on the topic was a small price to pay to understand it better. So I found an empty seat in the stacks, and began collecting reference numbers on books I thought might be helpful.

Mostly I recorded the information from several scientific accounts of the mind and the possibility of mind reading. Not that scientists typically embrace such possibilities, still, I thought that maybe in reading their accounts of why it doesn't exist, I might learn something.

I hunted down a stack of books and found an empty table and began thumbing through them. I was right in that most of the authors found mind reading a ridiculous idea and instead offered accounts of mind readers that relied on such men and women being merely highly perceptive and emotionally intelligent.

What I learned mostly was that for Mind reading to be possible, there either needed to be an explanation of how thoughts could physically impact the thoughts of another, or the existence of a spiritual dimension where normal laws of physical interaction didn't apply. If it were physically possible, then thoughts would work very much a second hand smoke, having some presence that spread out into the air to be inhaled by other passersby who were perceptive enough to be aware of them.

If thoughts were like smoke to me, then perhaps I could block them by developing some kind of filter, or helmet. The image of X-Men's Magneto came to me, with his helmet that stifles Professor X's mind control ability. Could I build such a helmet to keep myself safe? Wouldn't I look pretty dumb wearing a metal helmet everywhere I went?

Just then I heard a female voice behind me, "Mind reading, huh?"

I looked up and saw a very attractive older woman with a sly smile on her face as she looked down at me. My brow furrowed at being interrupted. Or maybe at being caught. But caught doing what? No crime other than an obscure subject matter.

She continued with a lightness in her voice, "You're not reading up on parlor tricks for seducing women, are you?" I looked at her a bit slack jawed as she circled around in front of me. "You're far too cute to need that."

I tried to read her mind, but was confused to find it blank. Or, not blank exactly, more like the static one gets when the television goes out. Slipping into the chair across from me, her bright red lips curved into a seductive smile and she leaned over the table and put her chin in her hands, eyes locked onto mine.

I sat in silence for some time, waiting for her to break the ice. It was possible, of course, that she saw me, and was just bold enough to come up to me and make a pass, but nothing like that had ever happened to me before and it seemed unlikely to start now. I had the distinct impression she wanted something from me, that she knew about me.

What possessed me, I don't know, but after an uncomfortably long silence I simply asked, matter of factly, "Can you read minds too?"

She sat back in her chair, surprised and impressed by my boldness. "Well, aren't we abrupt? I'm Sylvia, by the way."

"Paul," I said taking her hand, "and I see no point in screwing around. It's obvious you know something. And if you can read minds, you already know all about me anyway, I imagine."

"Alright," she said in a bemused sigh, "since you want everything on the table: Yes, I can read minds, but no, I cannot read yours."

I wrinkled my face into a puzzled expression and she shrugged before adding, "You tried to read me, right? Blank space? Static? Yeah that happens when any of us try to read each other. We've all tried for years to overcome it, but it's like a permanent feedback loop."

"We?" I asked slowly, comprehending for the first time that there is an entire community of people with this ability.

"You are a bright boy," she smiled, "straight to the point, always picking up on the right word, in this case 'we.' So yes, there is a 'we,' not many, but enough. In general we help each other in order to..." She paused as if looking for a euphemism, "maximize effect."

Lowering my voice, I leaned over the table and closed the gap between us, "So there's a community of mind readers?"

Her eyes smiled into mine, "Mind readers? Is that all you think we can do? Read minds?" She laughed a bit.

"I tried to do more," I admitted, somewhat too eagerly, "I tried to get a sandwich for free but it didn't work."

"Oh dear," she shook her head, "You haven't had the powers very long then, have you?"

I shook my head, "No, just yesterday."

"Oh goodness," she exclaimed, "A true novice! And when I passed you on the street I just thought you were just rogue."

"Rogue?" I asked.

"Some of us choose not to cooperate," she said cryptically, "they go rogue, but more of that later."

"So what have you been able to do?" She asked peering into me. I blushed and glanced away from her gaze. She chuckled and said, "I don't have to read minds to know it involves sex."

Quickly I defended myself, "Yeah, but I didn't make them, didn't force them, I just..."

"Read their thoughts," she finished my sentence, "played up their desires."

I nodded.

"Of course," she added slowly, "don't think that I missed the fact that it's been one day and it's already plural." She let out a deep sigh and glanced around the room. "We can do much more than read minds, but it does take some finessing. You can't just command people to do your bidding."

"Here," she said, "Let me show you." Her eyes shifted around the room, and she began speaking almost to herself, "Alright, so mid 20s, single..." she looked back at me, arched an eyebrow, and asked, "Straight?" When I nodded, she smiled.

In a moment the librarian that I had paid so little attention to when I arrived was standing at our table in the stacks. She was younger than I had initially imagined, about my age. Pretty, if not a bit mousey with brown hair pulled austerely into a pony tail. Her drab clothing hid a figure I imagined was better than she was able to admit to herself. In short, everything about the librarian spoke of a young woman not at all comfortable with herself or her sexuality.

For a short time she just stood next to our table looking down at us, fidgeting with her hands in front of her waist.

Sylvia smiled as I shifted my eyes up to the librarian, but when she made no immediate move I said, simply, "Yes?"

Almost as if given her cue, she turned and sat on the table, suddenly cupping and squeezing her breasts through the fabric of her blouse. The librarian bit her lower lip and pinched at her nipples before unbuttoning and eventually removing her blouses altogether.

If she was aware of Sylvia and I sitting next to her, she made no sign of it, continuing to tease and tug on her breasts before finally laying down on the table, Sylvia and I on either side of her.

I watched in utter fascination as his young demure woman hiked up her skirt and proceeded to slip her rather unstylish panties down her legs and off. With her skirt bunch at her waist, she bent her knees and placed both feet on the edge of the table, before spreading her knees wide. Her rather musky scent competed with the scent of the books as she was obviously aroused. And there, laying on the table in the middle of her library, in between two people she had never met before, the young librarian began frantically rubbing her exposed cunt without any sense of shame or propriety.

Sylvia glanced over the librarian's heaving chest at me. "Cute, huh?"

"You did this?" I asked. "You made her masturbate in front of us?"

"Mhmm," she smiled wickedly, "We can do so much more than read minds."

My cock grew hard as I watched her moan and writhe on the table in front of me. I shifted in my chair as I watched a thin sheen of sweat appear on the young woman's plain but pretty face. Her moans were almost pained; her expression pitiful.

"What's wrong with her?" I asked, alarmed.

Sylvia laughed, "Oh I made it so she can't cum no matter how hard she tries until a man fucks her."

"You can do that?" I blurted out, my hand reached out and took hold of one of her splayed thighs in a gesture of what was meant as concern, but the librarian just mewled louder.

"I told you," Sylvia said, "We can do so much more than you imagine." She glanced around the room again, "Here, watch this."

A man appeared almost from out of nowhere, and stood at the end of the table in between the librarian's spread thighs. He was in his early 60s and wore a clerical collar.

"Hello," he said nonchalantly, "lovely weather we're having for this time of year." He didn't seem to notice the librarian's nubile young body writhing in front of him; however, he began to undo his trousers just the same.

My eyes shot wide to Sylvia, but she just smiled like a Cheshire cat and motioned for me to watch the old priest.

I tried to make small talk with the man, but it was admittedly difficult. As he chatted about the weather and what his congregation has planned for the coming months, he removed his rather impressive cock and stroked it until it was completely hard.

Without seeming to even notice, he reached forward, took the librarian by the hips and pulled her ass to the edge of the table. He took his massive cock, and slid the mushroom head along the drenched slit of the librarian, before pressing forward with some effort and sinking the entire length of his shaft inside the young woman.

Immediately she shrieked and trembled into an orgasm that looked more like a seizure. Her build up had been so long, her frustration so epic, that when release came her body shook and tears of the joy of release rolled down her cheeks as the old man began to fuck her in earnest.

Not that he was aware of any of it. He chatted away absent-mindedly, telling Sylvia and I that we were more than welcome at Sunday services even as he grunted with each thrust into the librarian's tight young cunt.

Of course the librarian wasn't done yet either. Now that she finally met the condition for orgasm that Sylvia had set, she was making the most of it. And while the priest did not seem to hear her, she begged repeatedly, "Fuck me. Harder. Please. Pound me."

I watched the twisted display unfold in front of me, my lips and mouth were dry, and I couldn't help it as my hand began rubbing my cock through my trousers. The priest's cock was so swollen, that each thrust into the almost asexual librarian caused her to stretch and distend in a way that I'd never imagined. I reached forward and put my hand on her belly and could feel it swell with each deep penetration the priest performed.

"See, Paul," Sylvia said, "There's so much more we can do than just read minds. You just have to learn how to do it."

I looked at her with a blank expression. The whole scene was surreal.

Sylvia nodded, "You're having trouble concentrating," she said, "I get that. You'll feel better if you use her mouth to get off." I must have given a vague horrified expression because Sylvia teased, "Oh, don't worry, she won't mind, will you sweetheart?"

The librarian, who hadn't previously acknowledged me, looked up and said, "No sir, please use me however you see fit."

Honestly I didn't know what to do. As I struggled with my desire to get off and my own sense of decency, Sylvia watched me intently. I think her focus on me caused her to lose a bit of concentration because suddenly the priest let out a loud grunt as he pushed deep inside the librarian and evidently came.

His outburst had startled even him and he apologized profusely for it, blaming it on too large a breakfast, completely unaware that he was unloading a torrent of semen into the young librarian splayed before him.

"No," I said, "This isn't right." I stood up from the table and looked down at the scene. "Let them go," I insisted, "let them go and let them be free of the consequences. You can't treat people this way."

Sylvia rolled her eyes at me. "I was just having a little fun by way of demonstration. Don't worry, they'll be fine. They'll remember it as a wonderfully erotic dream."

With that, the priest pulled his now deflating cock out of the stretched and gaping sex of the librarian as their combined cum spilled out of her and onto the table. He pushed his cock back in his pants as if nothing had happened and walked away, wishing us well.

The librarian too got up and got dressed as if nothing had happened. Standing up, she smoothed her skirt down her thighs and walked off to her stacks of uncatalogued books without so much as acknowledging either of us.

"Look," I said forcefully, "I don't know who you are, and I'm not sure I want to know. You can't use people like that."

Sylvia stood and walked over to me. Kissing me on the cheek she smiled, "You're cute, I like your sense of honor. It's... quaint."

She slid a business card into my shirt pocket. "There's a party tonight, the address is on the card. You should come if you want to know more."

Thrown by her lack of concern for my anger, all I could manage was, "I can't, I have a date tonight."

"Bring her," Sylvia said as she turned the corner, "It'll be fun."