Date: Wed, 25 Jan 2017 10:50:56 -0500
From: CreepingDawn <CreepingDawn@protonmail.com>
Subject: Ant King Chapter 2

Warning: This story is unsuitable for minors and contains
explicit descriptions of sexual activity considered taboo (and
illegal) in most (if not all) jurisdictions. If such activity
offends you, please DO NOT read any further. I do not condone any
illegal activity and stress that this work is fiction, fantasy,
and in no way meant to reflect reality. Sexual abuse of minors is
a very serious issue and I encourage anyone tempted to engage in
such behavior to seek help immediately.

Title: Ant King
Last Updated: 1/25/17

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Without further adieu...

Chapter Two

I slipped out of the house shortly after the shower, amazed at what had
just occurred. I had jerked off in a shower with a thirteen-year-old boy!
My mind was reeling and I had to have a few moments alone to think about
how I felt. I suppose that fear of detection would have been the proper
response; that the boy would tell his parents or the police or a teacher
that the pervy next door neighbor had just invaded his personal space and
committed some sort of sex offense! However, I knew, deep down in my gut,
that such an outcome would never happen. I sent my commands to the boy as
we were drying off not to remember what we had done and I had felt his
memories of the event slip away into nothingness. The boy was my drone. He
did what I willed him to do.

My euphoria came crashing down when my phone buzzed just as I was entering
the house and the text I had been expecting for weeks appeared. It was my
mother, telling me that Grandpa Pete had finally passed away. "Damn," I
said to the empty house as I sat down into a recliner. "Damn."

I immediately called my mom and gave her my condolences. She was weepy and
sad, the loss hitting her hard. Grandpa Pete was a great dude who had been
a wonderful father to her and my aunts and uncles. The last few years had
been tough, I knew, because his health had declined so rapidly. Over the
past few weeks, I had heard through the family, Grandpa Pete had become
incredibly ill with the flu and hospice had even been called a few days
earlier.

Grandma Betty was apparently holding up but my uncle in South Carolina and
my aunt in Louisiana were both on their way to Miami at the moment to be
there with her. My mom was trying to figure out her own flights so she
could get down and comfort her mom. "Do you want me to fly to Miami too?" I
asked, knowing she would probably say that I should wait until the funeral.

"No, honey. I think the funeral will be next weekend, probably, so you
should wait. Do you think you can go to it?" She asked, her voice breaking.

"Yeah. Definitely. I'll be there."

We talked for a few more minutes before her sister called in and she
switched over. I sat there, stunned, at the loss. For the next several
hours, I shuffled around the house, my mind torn between thinking about my
new power over the family next door and the loss of my favorite
grandparent. I spoke with several other family members during that time, my
traveling uncle and aunt included, and, around 6pm, made a decision. Family
was important, dammit, and I wanted to be there for mine. Sending out a few
emails to the school, I quickly searched for a flight and, finding one that
left the local airport within the hour, hurriedly packed and raced to catch
my flight.

My puddle-jumper landed in Seattle at 10:37pm and I was the first to
disembark, running through the terminal at a breakneck speed to catch my
red-eye that left at 11:15pm. I made it, of course, and was standing in
line huffing and puffing and dreading the upcoming flight. Seattle to
Miami, direct, with no layover, was a bitchin' long time to be in the
air. Luckily, it was an overnight flight and I hoped that I might be able
to catch a little shut eye. My family was going to be surprised to see me
in the morning, I knew, but it would be a welcome, if bittersweet, reunion.

"Ugh," I grunted as a man accidentally bumped into me, our hands touching
for just a brief moment. My mind whirled. Adam White was a middle aged
accountant who was taking a well deserved vacation to Miami with his
eleven-year-old son Charlie. He looked forward to relaxing on the beach and
eating the local fare, all while doing absolutely no work and ignoring his
pestering clients. He was also now my drone. "Oh, hey Adam," I said
automatically, smiling at my unexpected fifth drone.

"Hi Mike. How are you?" he responded causally.

"Great," I said, carefully filing away all the information I knew about the
man into the back of my mind. Then I glanced down at his son. The little
pre-teen was looking at me and his father. "Hi Charlie. Your dad is a
friend of mine. You excited about Miami?" I extended my hand.

"Yeah, it's going to be fun," he said, taking it.

Drone number six.

The three of us chatted for a few minutes as the gate began to open
up. Thinking quickly, I had Adam and I approach the agent and explain that
we were cousins who bumped into each other and asked if we could change our
seating assignments so that we three could sit together. The woman was very
kind and did so immediately, telling us that the flight was nearly empty
and there was plenty of room.

We boarded shortly there after, with Adam taking the isle seat, me taking
the middle, and little Charlie sitting by the window. We were airborne
within the hour. I looked around in surprise at the lack of passengers, the
plane nearly empty. It was late at night, though, and the few passengers I
saw were already settling down to sleep out the flight. The cabin lights
were low, the captain had explained the flight was expected to be turbulent
free, and the flight attendants had made it clear that these night flights
featured little crew-passenger interactions.

Adam fell asleep almost immediately, a combination of his own tiredness and
my mental suggestion. Charlie and I spoke in quiet whispers for some time,
getting to know each other (though I already knew much about my little
drone from our contact) but passing the time with friendly conversation. I
could sense Charlie was fading fast around 1am so I lifted the dividing
armrest, wrapped a blanked around me and the youngster, and bade the boy to
snuggle up close to me. He did so, his head resting lightly on my shoulder.

Looking around, it appeared that the flight attendants were not planning on
coming by at any point and none of the other passengers, those very few
still awake, were close enough to see anything. Taking a chance, I sent my
mental commands to the eleven-year-old who, with minimal fuss, promptly
slid his pants and boxers down to his ankles before settling back in a
comfortable position. My right hand, under the blanket, crept across his
smooth thigh and soon found his immature willy.

Soft and hairless, the boy's cock was a delight to explore and I spent a
great deal of time caressing his smooth balls in their silky sack. The boy
became hard fairly quickly and I estimated that his member was only a
couple of inches long. It appeared, I supposed, that my new little friend
had not yet been visited by the puberty fairy. With two fingers sliding
gently under his cock-head and my thumb lightly pulling on his shaft, I
wanked the little guy for several blissful minutes as he purred silently
into my shoulder. Wary of discovery, of course, I ordered the boy not to
make any sounds during his molestation and was glad that the only thing
that would even hint at what I was doing to his cock was his deep and
throaty breathing.

My mind, linked with his, soon realized that unfamiliar feelings were
beginning to grow in his little pecker and the boy, his breath coming
faster, was nearing what I knew to be his first orgasm. Amazed at how much
I could discover through our link, I brought Charlie right to the edge
before releasing his throbbing boyhood and gently rubbing up and down his
quivering thighs. The pre-teen relaxed, then, his body retreating from the
ultimate release. He was confused, I knew, and he had thought privately
that he might have been about to piss himself. I grinned. He began to ask
me about it but my mind instructed him to be still and quiet.

Grasping the immature tool again, I began to work him back up towards the
peak as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his body alive with the new
pleasures. I again released him before he climaxed, wanting to prolong the
fun. I kept him on edge for half an hour, enjoying the game and reveling in
my ability, though our connection, to time my caresses
perfectly. Eventually, the boy was a quivering horny mess who was desperate
for release.

Instead of giving it to him, I had the lad scoot forward just slightly so
my hand could travel down his back and towards his bottom. Confused but
obedient, the boy complied. My middle finger soon found his fleshy mounds
and began to inch its way between his cheeks, the hot sweaty confines
giving my own hard-on a new thrill. Lower and lower my finger squirmed,
eventually discovering a bit of flesh that was unlike the rest of the boy's
backside. As my finger slid across his puckered anus, the boy let out a
gasp of surprise. I smiled, twirling my finger around that virgin entrance
and using just enough force to part the opening ever so slightly. Charlie
looked at me then, his eyes as big as saucers.

I withdrew my hand, taking a moment to smell the delicious boy-funk on my
finger. It was intoxicating. "Let's go." I said quietly, instructing the
boy to pull up his pants. We exited the row a few moments later, his father
having shifted slightly to let us by, and the two of us hurried back to the
bathroom. The flight attendant looked up from her magazine and I whispered
"he had a little accident," to her. Understanding, she nodded and went back
to her reading as Charlie and I slipped into the stall.

I pulled down my pants and sat down on the toilet, my mental commands
already having the boy stripping off his clothes. Soon, the naked little
eleven year old was perched on the toilet himself, leaning over my head as
I slurped down his tiny prick and teased the hard little nail with my eager
tongue. At the same time, I slid my hand up between his now parted cheeks
and began to stroke his hot little asshole with gusto, pulling the flesh
apart and running my finger along the ass-lips in a rapid circle. The boy
wanted to moan but I commanded him not to, pleasuring him with my mouth and
finger as my own left hand rapidly stroked my pre-cum covered cock. He was
about to cum, I knew, and I gave him permission.

His body buckled but I held him pinned between my head and my right hand,
torturing his hairless cock and boypussy as waives of unimaginable pleasure
pulsed throughout his skinny frame. He was drunk on pleasure, I knew, as
the orgasm tore through him with the force of a tsunami. I came as well,
rope after rope covering my hand as I beat off in time with his own
shuddering drycum.

We were cleaned up and back in our seats ten minutes later, the boy
promptly falling asleep after I commanded him to forget everything that had
happened while my own thoughts replayed our tryst over and over again. I
think I was starting to really like these new powers.

......

I woke up as we were landing and stretched, feeling cramped but otherwise
well. Adam and Charlie were also coming awake and the three of us soon
found ourselves departing the terminal, chatting like old friends and
basking in the relatively warm Miami weather. "Well, you two have fun on
the vacation," I said as we stood next to two waiting
cabs. "I'll... ugh... look you up if I have time." Charlie gave me a quick
hug and I could feel the boy's excitement through the link at his
relatively unformed plans for the vacation. I smiled.

"Sounds good," Adam responded, shaking my hand before he and Charlie loaded
their luggage into the cab and sped off toward their hotel. My cab left
moments later, heading towards my grandmother's house, and I put my new
friends to the back of my mind as I focused on the next few hours and the
reception I was going to receive when I pulled up unexpectedly.

A thought had crossed my mind as I was getting of the plane earlier and the
long drive to my grandmothers house gave me time to consider it. When I
showed up, I knew I was going to get lots of hugs and pats on the back and
kisses to the cheeks from the various relatives whom had already
arrived. Since I had first touched Tony, I had taken care not to touch
anyone else unless it was deliberate. Indeed, I had only touched five other
people since shaking Tony's hand approximately forty-eight hours
earlier. Knowing that I was about to touch many other people, I had to
wonder if the gift I'd been given would be able to handle so many drones
being added in such a short time to my... what... colony? My instincts said
there would be no problem. Indeed, I had six drones already in the back of
my mind and those six felt no different from when I had only had four or
even when I only had Tony. Still, it was an unknown that made me somewhat
nervous.

My worries were for not. My grandmother's screen door was already open when
I arrived at her home and, after announcing myself, I was swarmed by two
aunts, an uncle, two cousin's in their twenties who lived in south Florida,
several of my grandparents elderly friends, the next door neighbor couple
who had helped take care of my grandfather over the previous few weeks, and
my startled but incredibly grateful grandmother. My mother arrived several
hours later, as did a second uncle and a few other adult cousins. By the
end of the night, my colony had grown to twenty drones and I knew, as I
closed my eyes to sleep, it could grow much much bigger.

My grandfathers funeral was five days later and was a solemn and dignified
affair. I was asked to be an usher and I think my mother was very happy
that I was able to be part of sending my grandfather off. She fussed at me
quite a bit when she realized I had taken the entire week off from school
but I quickly put a stop to that with a few deft mental commands. Having
family members as drones was no different than having non-family members as
drones and I found rather quickly that the ability to command my blood
relations did not in any way pose a moral or ethical dilemma for me. They
all belonged to me, I realized, and I could do as I please with them.

I didn't engage in any hanky-panky during the week because I felt
emotionally drained by the loss of my grandfather. Truthfully, the tryst
with the boy on the plane, Charlie, happened before the real emotional
impact of the death had hit me and I spend the entire week consoling family
members and being consoled in return. I did think about my powers quite a
bit, though, and came to the conclusion that I did not need to be careful
as to whom I turned into a drone. By the time the funeral was over, I had
over one hundred fifty drones in my colony. Nothing felt different when
someone was added and I knew, deep down, that there was no limitation as to
how many I could turn into my drones.

My flight was supposed to board at 5:45pm that Sunday and I, being a good
and experienced traveler, found myself sitting at the gate and ready to go
by 4:30pm. For some reason, though, I was in a terrible mood. I'd been in a
terrible mood all day. Taking stock, I knew I was mad and anxious and
sad. I'd never had much difficulty with self evaluation and, after
reviewing my emotional state, chalked up my feelings to the fact that we
had buried my grandfather the previous day. As the clock slowly marched
forward, though, I found myself absolutely dreading the flight. I couldn't
figure out why. By 5pm, I was pacing the terminal. By 5:30, I was leaving
the airport.

You see, I had had an epiphany that day in the airport. A profound change
to my worldview which, perhaps more than anything else, nudged my life onto
it's current path. My anger and fear and anxiety had nothing to do with my
grandfather nor with the outbound flight. It had, instead, to do with my
subconscious desire to abandon the road before me. My schooling in
chemistry. A job with a pharmaceutical company. My small circle of
friends. My confined and narrow dreams.

I possessed power! The power to make any I touched into my drones! I could
walk up to a complete stranger, touch them, and have them hand over their
life savings without a second thought. I didn't need school! I didn't need
a job! I could "do" whatever I liked. I was free! More free than anyone in
the history of the world. I faced no barriers!

I knew, then and there, that I wasn't going back to school. I wasn't going
back to my previous life. Mulling over my options, I decided the first
thing I needed was a source of money. That would be the most immediate
necessity. Once I had secured an income, I would take a little vacation,
relax, and think about what my future plans might entail.

"What's the wealthiest neighborhood you know of?" I asked a cabbie outside
just after I touched him.

"Well, sir, there are some private neighborhoods just north of the city
along the beach. Lots of money there." he responded. "Can't get in unless
the guard buzzes you through, though."

"Take me."

Almost an hour later (thanks Miami traffic), we pulled up to a gated
community right on the water and I could see huge homes doting the
horizon. My cabbie dropped me off in front of the security guard stand and
I approached the sitting guard with confidence.

"Can I help you?" he said, his bored tone suggesting he had to turn away
people regularly.

"You can," I said as I reached out and touched him quickly. He smiled and
radioed his partner to come pick me up.

I touched that man when he arrived and the two of us were soon driving
along the winding private streets in his golf cart. The homes were hard to
believe. Being from Wyoming and a middle class family at that, I had never
seen this sort of wealth anywhere. Large McMansions, probably worth
millions of dollars each, and only steps away from the beach as well!
Amazing!

"So who is the worst person here? The person who is super wealthy but also
a giant asshole?" I said to the guard.

"Mr. O'Malley, for sure." He said almost immediately.

I laughed at the quick response. "Why's that?"

As we drove on towards Mr. O'Malley's house, the guard filled me in on all
the real and outrageous insults, most of which were racist in origin, the
old man had visited upon the guards, gardeners, maids, delivery men, and
any other unfortunate soul to cross his path. By the time we arrived at the
old man's house, I decided he would be perfect. The guard, Ricky, took me
to the front door and rang the door bell. A few moments later,
Mr. O'Malley, a crotchety man in his early sixties, opened it. "What the
fuck do you want?" he said to the guard, not even looking over at me. "You
fucking Cubans think that..."

I jumped forward and touched the old man before his tirade could get
going. Then I smiled at Ricky, dismissed him, and went inside to make
myself comfortable.