Malpractice Chapter 3: My New Stomping Grounds REPOST by Dadachum

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, AND ALL OF THE CHARACTERS PORTRAYED HEREIN ARE OF 18 YEARS OF AGE OR OLDER.

I had crossed a line with my sister, Jordan. But I swore to myself that I wouldn’t take it any further. Using my strange new ability, I had made her want to show me her breasts, and from there I had eaten her out and had her suck my cock. I even came on her big, soft tits! I’d never imagined her to be such a fierce cocksucker, and part of me was dying to see her in bed. But that was too far. My morals were already stretching, and I had to make an effort to keep some level of decency. That said, I had no qualms about using my newfound ability to control people’s urges to get a head in the pickup race. As far as I could tell, no one was left scarred or somehow freaked out my by mental intrusions, and so I rationalized this very questionable practice as harmless. After all, if I could make any woman really want it, it wasn’t technically rape. Of course, a voice inside me kept insisting the whole thing was wrong. And I suppose I knew all the time that it was, at its core, immoral. In the words of Steve Buscemi (or rather his screenwriter): We all need to decide for ourselves how much sin we’re able to live with.

I figured that, in order to keep this ability out of the house, I’d do best to exercise it somewhere else. I needed some practice, as my head always started to ache whenever I started using it. Or… didn’t the headaches come first? I didn’t remember. But that was part of what today would be all about. Practice. And what better place to practice mind control than the mall?

On Sunday I took the bus to Rotterdam Station, and from there took the train into the city. I walked about for a while, until I reached the downtown mall. It was a large strip with a glass ceiling and loads of stores, restaurants and cafés. Everywhere people where buzzing around, carrying shopping bags from Gap, H&M, and more. How many clothes do people wear? I buy a shirt and it lasts me at least a good couple of years, but I digress. I was standing around in quaint little teashop. Drawers and racks of boxes with different exotic teas littered the cramp place, and the air was a softly sweet and relaxing mix of teas and herbs. There was a speaker in the corner humming out some relaxing synthetic orchestral music. I was amazed to recognize the song. Jordan had played it in her room more than once. Some famous Japanese modern composer, Susumizu Hickeyzawa or something like that.

Other than me there were two people in the store, save the proprietor. An old man, maybe in his sixties; and a woman in her late thirties, around the same age as my mom by the look of her. I got an idea. I remembered how I had to make brief eye contact to use my powers. As they passed each other, I caught the old man’s glance and sent into him

That woman is your wife

I felt a bit torn on this. These were just pranks, sure, but I might cause a scene. However, even in such a case I might get some idea of just how far I can take a situation and still salvage it. Now the man turned to the woman.

“Dierdre! I didn’t see you there. Weren’t you supposed to be at home?”

The woman looked at the man, visibly confused. She didn’t seem sure if the man was talking to her, and as the realization came she became very uncomfortable.

“Look, mister. I don’t think I’m the person you – “ as she spoke she noticed I was watching and became even more uneasy. When our eyes briefly met, I sent a suggestion.

You get a kick from pretending you’re other people. Pretend you’re his wife

“- uh…” she trailed off.
“Dierdre? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing dear.” she said smiling. It looked like the smile of an amateur actress. Was there any limit to this power?
“I thought you said you’d be at home.”
“Oh, I, you know, thought of following you here anyway.”
“You should have told me when I went out, we could taken the car together.”

This was too easy. With just a command, I had convinced this old man to see a stranger as someone he knew closely. Did he still physically see her as she was, or did he in his mind really see his wife in front of him. I should experiment with this again. And as for the woman, I had made her adapt to a strange situation with no problems. I kept wondering what it felt like from her side. Did she at any point wonder where this sudden urge to role-play for kicks came from? Did her subconcience perhaps write some kind of backstory to justify the changes I made in her personality. If that was the case, I might be able to get away with some considerable suggestions. I decided this was enough, it was time to see if I could change or erase their memories. That would be useful, to say the least. To both of them:

Completely forget the last minute. She is not your wife. You are done with role-playing

They just stood there, still, staring past each other. I was afraid I had broken them. Then they both just seemed to reboot, like a couple of laptops, and went straight back browsing the teas. I found that though I needed eye contact on the initial suggestion, once that was done, no further eye contact was necessary.

As I exited the teashop, I wondered if their memories were in fact gone. I could only tell by their reaction, and I guess they could just as well have been too embarrassed when I relieved them of their suggestions. More experimentation was required.

I went to a nearby café. It was still early in the afternoon, the sun was shining brightly through the glass ceiling so there were plenty of people sitting at the tables on the side of the strip. I bought a cup of coffee, with just a little milk, and had a seat. On the table to my left was a dad treating his two kids to some ice cream. On my right was an attractive woman at about my age – early twenties – reading a book and having some tea. She had short, dark brown hair and full, seductive lips. Her skin was fair and she dressed in a blue blouse under a large vintage suede jacket – a little early, as fall was still at least a month away – and a black skirt that stopped just above her knees, beneath which she wore a pair of fabric boots. She seemed to have a audaciously good body, but I couldn’t be totally sure with that over-sized jacket. She was gorgeous, and had style. But what was a more proper target for what I had in mind – for now – were seated at the table in front of me. There sat a guy and a girl, obviously a couple. They seemed to be late teens, like my sister Jordan.

The guy wore jeans and a pink shirt. He had one of those obnoxious haircuts where all is shaved except the top of the head, where a tuft of blond hair sat looking ridiculous. I decided to refer to him as Macklemore. The girl was pretty, a petite blond with a sweet, round face and big blue eyes. She had a ponytail that fell to her back, and she wore a stylish white poncho sewed in a grid pattern, revealing a black top underneath, and a pair of tight bright blue jeans. Her figure was not like the girl to my right, she only had a couple of buds for breasts and was too skinny for my taste. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t use this couple for practice. And then, maybe I would introduce myself to the brunette beside me.

I coughed slightly, trying to get their attention without acting suspicious. It worked partially, the guy looked my way for just a second, and that was all I needed. You know how in crowded places, sometimes you just accidentally cross stares with random people? I could use that now. I sent the guy a suggestion, and turned my gaze toward the girl, waiting for her to look my way.

You have a confession to make, I sent into Macklemore. You have cheated on your girlfriend with a stranger you met on the bus.

I couldn’t quite make out what he said, due to all the ambient noise on the busy shopping strip. But I heard most of it.

“Listen, babe.” I’m pretty sure he said after a short while.
“What is it, Brad?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“What, Brad?”
“The other day-” I didn’t say the other day, his mind must really be filling out the blanks. “-when I was on the bus.”
“But you hate the bus.”
“Yeah, I know. But listen. I met this girl…”

At this the girl looked at him suspiciously, then looked around as if expecting to see this girl right here. Our eyes met.

The thought of your boyfriend being with other people turns you on

“And then what?” she asked sternly.
“Well, we got to talking. Ended up having some coffee, then a few beers.”

Amazing. He was writing it all by himself. Like this, I could pull any command straight out of my ass and my target would just come up with a rationalization on their own.

“Are you saying….”
“I went with her to my place. And we had sex. I’m so sorry.”
“That. Is. SO. Hot.”
“What?”
“That is so sexy.” she whispered, but ever since I made the suggestions on them, both their voices seemed to progressively rise above the background noises, letting me hear them over the crowd. “That you would betray my trust like that. Can I watch next time?”
“Wh-what?”

I decided this was enough. I wondered if I could withdraw a suggestion simply by shorthand, and tried to simply expel a withdrawal command into them. Suddenly I felt how they, in my mind, got lighter. My head was at this point starting to ache, but considerably less than yesterday. I heard them speak.

“Wait a minute, what did I…” Macklemore started to mumble. The girl only showed a face of disbelief at what she just said, or thought. So they rationalize my commands, but not when I take their commands away, huh?

Forget what you talked about for the last two minutes

“So, hey!” she called.
“What?”
“I heard about -”

I lost interest. It was confirmed. I could erase at least their short term memory. I could implant memories into them. I could change their preferences and tastes, even their opinions. And whenever I added something, it made total sense to them. They didn’t think it was strange until I took it away from them.

Now for some more potentially pleasurable practice. I turned to my right and saw the girl with short hair and suede jacket just get up and leave. She was so alluring, I couldn’t just let her go. I left my coffee half finished and got up and went after her. I thought of a way to get her attention, and took out a penny from my back pocket. I went up to her and cautiously tapped on her shoulder. She stopped and turned around.

This is yours

“Excuse me,” I said. “I think you dropped this.”
“Oh, thanks. This is mine.”

You are to be very accommodating and comfortable with my company

“Say,” I continued. “Do you know where I can buy a jacket like that?”
“Well, this I got at a thrift shop on Levitt. It’s about thirty minutes from here, I guess.”

Her round lips were a natural pink and moved so beautifully when she talked. The eyes on her pale face were big and dark, surrounded by thick lashes that only accentuated their color. Her eyes had a minute almond shape, and I wondered if maybe she some slight East Asian lineage one one part of the family; maybe Korean or Japanese. Up close, and in front of her, I could now see that underneath her jacket she had a breathtaking figure. She wasn’t at all as skinny as the petite blond from the café, but her stomach was fit, her breasts looked like firm C-cups, and her hips were like that of a dancer. My sister Hannah danced, but her hips were not anywhere near this level. This girl, with her short dark brown hair, luscious figure and innocent yet confident expression, was a goddess.

“Could you take me there? Is that asking too much.”
“I’d love to, but,” she laughed apologetically.

You don’t mind taking me there

“… but are you sure? We just met.”
“As long as you’re not taking me to someplace inappropriate.” I jested, and she let out an honest laugh.
“Okay then. Let’s go. I’m Rose, by the way.”
“Matt. Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” she smiled.

As per my command, she was very amicable and forthcoming with me. We strolled down the streets, talking, and it was like we were friends or on a casual date.

“So you’re an illustrator?” she said. “What do you draw?”
“Mostly covers for children’s and youth novels. Once I did a full illustration of a new translation of an Astrid Lindgren story, one picture per chapter. That was really rewarding, actually.”
“Lindgren…” she mused. “I know that name.” she thought for a bit then, smiling, snapped her fingers at me. “I know! Pippi Longstocking!”
“Right.” I laughed. “Only this one was of Ronja the Robber’s Daughter.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s a book for starters.”
“Oh, har dee har.”
“It’s good. It’s for young teens, but it’s a good story. You read a lot?”
“Oh, do I. I finish maybe two books a week.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Why thank you, sir.” she said and did small curtsy, which didn’t look right since we were still walking.

I hadn’t expected to be taken by conversation like this. This girl was really cool. She was smart, funny and kind. Though I guess that last part was mainly due to me telling her to be. Never mind.

“So what about work?” I asked her. “Still in school?”
“I’m majoring in botanics. I have maybe five dozens different plants in my apartment. And I write a column on house plants and urban gardening in a weekly lifestyle magazine.”
“The impressives just keep lining up.”
“Thanks. You’ve got quite the job yourself.”
“It pays the rent. Or, it will when I get my own place.”
“You live with a roommate?”
“I wish. Still with my family. Haven’t had much luck on the real estate market.”
“I hear you. I got lucky. A friend of my mom was willing to sell it first hand. My dad payed half of it, but it’s written in my name.”
“Wait, so you own your own apartment? No rent?”
“So ’tis, friend.”
“Damn, I think you’re winning.”

We arrived at the second hand store on Levitt street about twenty-five minutes after we’d left the café. It was located in a basement, with old clothes hanging on racks everywhere. Along the walls were boxed of old DVDs and even VHS tapes. We browsed the place, making small talk.

“What do you think about this?” I asked and held out a brown leather jacket with a faint reddish sheen.
“A little short for you.”
“You think?” I said and put it on. It was indeed a bit short. The arms fit perfectly, but the jacket only reached down to just above my belt.
“But…” she pondered. “It sort of works. Just make sure to wear a shirt that covers your butt crack, in case you lean forward or something.”
“Is there a mirror somewhere?”
“Should be. There it is.”

I went over to the mirror, and I liked what I saw. It was a cool jacket, excellent for the coming fall. I rarely bought new clothes, and at 25 bucks, this one was a steal. I figured I could treat myself. I also saw something else in the mirror. Rose, standing behind me, looking absolutely gorgeous. I imagined how I wanted her to cling to my arm, holding it as we walked out of the store. I wanted to kiss her, hold her. I think I might have building a crush for her at that moment. I wanted to try asking her out without using a command or suggestion. But not just now.

“I think I’ll take it.”
“Looks good.”

I bought the jacket, but it was still just a bit to hot outside to wear it. I couldn’t wrap my head around how Rose could wear that over-sized suede jacket in early august. I also picked up what looked like a rare DVD release of Kill! for Jordan. We exited the thrift shop and walked along the street. As we passed the bus station she turned to me.

“I should be heading home. I have work to do.”
“Yeah, alright. But hey, this was fun. You want to get together sometime next week? I’ll take you our for dinner.”
“That’s really sweet. And I had a great time, but I’m not really into guys, in that way.”
“Oh, so you’re…”
“Lesbian, yeah.”
“Sorry, I didn’t want to-”
“It’s okay.” she laughed dismissively. “I’m flattered, really.”

Didn’t see that one coming. All of a sudden my hopes of kissing those pink lips ran down the drain. Or did it? Maybe I could… No, that would be wrong. Oh, hell. I had oral sex with my sister. If I wasn’t going to use my power to get what I wanted, then what was the point? It wasn’t like she’d be unhappy. At least I could make a compromise.

You’re not lesbian. You’re bisexual. You are attracted to me as well as to women.

And just for some extra insurance.

When I talk to you, you will get excited. You will feel good when you’re with me. And a little horny

“But…” she started to mumble.
“Look, here’s my number. If you change your mind, give me a call.” I said, knowingly.
“Okay.” she said. She looked confused, as her new feelings gushed over her. I would give her some time to digest it all. She would call, I had a feeling.
“Okay.” I said as the bus came. “Bye.”
“Bye, Matt.” she said and smiled. Her eyes lingered on me as she boarded the bus.

…

When I got home I had the worst blueballs. I’d only spent just over an hour with Rose, yet in that time I might have had gotten actual feelings for her. Of course, there’s no way you could really fall in love with someone in an hour. But I felt that I definitely had a crush on her. How sweet, I thought, a crush at my age. How selfish it had been of me, though. I might have actually changed her sexuality, solely for my own benefit. And yet, I didn’t regret it. I had been given a gift. I wanted to make the most of it.

I was lying on the sofa in the living room. Mom was in the basement, doing the laundry, Jordan was in her room – I could feel her upstairs – and I still had the copy of Kill! in the pocket of my new jacket. I mused the idea of having her relieve me when I heard footsteps down the stairs, and then heard a soft little voice.

“Hey, Matt. Where you been?” it was Hannah, scantily clad in a purple top and black short-shorts. Her dancing practice outfit.
“I went shopping with a friend.”
“Shopping? Who are you and have you done with my big brother?” she laughed in her very own oink-like laugh. It was cute, in its own way.

Hannah was just sixteen, but she had a well developed body. Her breasts weren’t large, but neither had Jordan’s been at that age. Come spring her chest would probably double in size, and by this time next year they’d probably be the same size as Rose; a pair of lovely C-cups. Hannah’s big draw was her legs, hips and her butt, though. Again, her hips weren’t quite in the same league as Rose’s, but for a sixteen-year-old girl this was bordering on some Nicki Minaj-type stuff, let me tell you. Face-wise she was very like my mom, only twenty-three years younger, with a cute little nose and slightly pointy. She had very dark eyebrows for her blond hair, which was much lighter than Jordan’s. Her lips were thin but cutely open at the center to minutely show a tiny piece of her front teeth. She also had the clearest blue eyes. Bombardier’s eyes, as Stephen King would have described them.

“So, what now?” she asked.
“Now? I don’t know, what time is it?”
“Four.”
“Only? Well I’m beat. I’m going to take a nap in my room.”

Then came a knock on the door. I immediately felt who it was.

“I’ll get it!” Hannah called.

She skidooed towards the door and opened it.

“Oh, hi Denise!” she said. “JORDAN, IT’S FOR-”
“Actually, I’m not looking for Jordan. Hi, by the way.”
“You’re not here to see Jordan? Then who are y-”
“Hi Matt!” she yelled down the hallway and waved. Then, forgetting herself, she tried to act reserved. “Um, when I was here the other day, about the power outage…”
“Yeah, they fixed it over at your house too, right?” I said as I walked toward the hallway. Just a meter from where Hannah stood, just two days ago, Denise had been on her knees sucking my cock.
“Yeah, it’s fixed.” she laughed nervously, as Hannah stood between us with a perplexed expression on her face. “But I sort of lost my keys. And I think I might have dropped them… here.” she looked at me intently, trying to hide her intention from Hannah.
“Oh.” I said. “Oh, right. Right. Yeah, I found them after you came by. Sorry, I forgot all about it. They’re up in my room.”
“Should I come and get them?” she asked, anticipation in her voice.
“Sure, come on in.”

She kicked her shoes off her feet and raced past Hannah, leaving her either suspicious or just dumbstruck. We went upstairs to my room. I hoped Jordan wouldn’t choose this particular time to come out of her room. The very second we were in my room Denise shut the door and fell into my arms, kissing passionately and with longing in her lips and tongue.

“Oh god, Matt, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you this whole weekend.” she said in between kisses. I instinctively grabbed her hips, and slowly moved to her athletically fit ass. I struggled to remember what exactly I had sent into her mind that time. I had just been horny, I don’t think I ever put in a command put in words.
“Look, Denise.” I said, letting her go. With the blueballs I had, that was hard to do.

I looked at her, standing there in my room, dressed in white top with a clasp over her one shoulder, a red and pale yellow square patterned skirt and gray leg-warmers. Her body was fit and trained, but still curvy. Her legs were long and her butt was a smooth hillock on the exquisite landscape that was her body. Her skin was tanned, a shade lighter than her hair, which ran down to her shoulder blades and had a bang looming over her eyebrows. The skin on her nose and cheeks had the most subtle of freckles, and her eyes were a pair of seductive emeralds. Her mouth was partially open, and she watered her lips with her tongue. I had to have her, and knowing that I could have her any way I wanted made me so hard. But I needed to sort out the mess I had made in her head. Renovate, in a sense. And this time, I was going to make sure she ended up just as I wanted her. I started by relieving any previous command, which I could feel was just a whirlwind of sexual frustration inside her. As it all emptied her, I replaced it with her new directions.

Denise, you will do anything I directly tell you to do. You will want to do it, of your own free will. You will lust for me; when I speak, when you talk to me, when we touch, when you think of me – you will be happy and horny. You will be safe and trusting with me. What turns me on will turn you on, and no man other than me can make you cum

She looked at me with admiration and longing. This was great! I could have anyone like this. I had now, in front of me, this 18-year-old bombshell of a woman, who was visibly aching to have me touch her I stepped forward, took her by the waist, and kissed her deeply. She moaned as our tongues intertwined and she held me tightly.

“I’ve never felt this way before…” she managed to say with a sigh.
“How far are you willing to go?”
“I want you to make love to me, Matt. I don’t know what it is. I… I think I’m in love with you.”
“Prove it to me,” I said teasingly, though I realized that was a dick way of responding to that sentence. “Suck my dick.”
“Gladly!”

She went down to her knees, unclasping my belt, removing my jeans and my boxers, and jerked my all ready rock-hard cock.

“Your dick is just amazing. It’s so big, and manly. Just the smell…” she said and took a long sniff of the my dick’s scent. “Oh fuck, I’m getting high just smelling your cock.”

She started kissing it, jerking it gently all the while. Smooching sounds and smacking noises filled my room as she teased my dick with her hands and lips. When she finally put the crown in her mouth and twirled her tongue around the tip, I though I was going to blow my load. I persevered, however, and watched proudly how my sister’s old classmate took a third of my stiff cock in her mouth. She bobbed her head back and forth with rising speed, massaging my balls with her one hand and caressing my leg with the other. The softness of her mouth felt like wet, warm velvet. She tried to take the whole thing, but gagged just over halfway down on it. She pulled her head back, and a thick string of saliva mixed with white pre-cum hung between her lower lip and the tip of my cock.

“I haven’t done this a lot. I want to be able to take it all.” she said in the most adorably surrendering tone.
“Don’t worry, girl. You will. We’ll just have to practice.”
“I’ll practice as often as you’ll have me.”
“Try licking my balls.”

The only answer I got was Denise’s satisfied sigh as she sank her face into my scrotum and tenderly sucked and licked my balls, jerking my dick with her hand and spreading her spit and my pre-cum all over it. Good thing I shave by nether regularly out of habit.

Soon she returned her attention to my shaft, running her tongue up and down whilst looking into my eyes intently. She made a second attempt at deepthroating me, with not much more success. No matter, I thought. I had a feeling we’d be doing this pretty regularly from now on. I thought of my sister, who’d just the day before been able to take all of my seventeen centimeters like it was nothing. Still, you had to give Denise an A for effort. She was working my dick like it was the most delicious thing in the world. Accompanying the sound of suction and kisses she moaned and sighed with pleasure as she took me into her mouth. I gently held her by the head, bobbing her to and fro, and she closed her eyes, just letting me move her head for her. I did it gently enough, but one day, when she’d be able to take it all, I’d happily skullfuck her into next week. Then I pulled her away from me.

“Denise, I want to fuck you so bad.”
“Mmm, I’ve wanted to hear you say that all weekend.” she said seductively and stood up. She did a little dance as she took off her leg-warmers and skirt, swaying her perfect little ass from side to side. She turned away from me, unclasped her top at the shoulder, and let it fall. Slowly, she turned around, holding her breasts in her hands. It was almost ceremonial, when she let go, letting reveal her firm breasts, in perfect proportion with her athletic yet sensual body. She sat down on the foot of my bed and got on her back, spreading her legs for me.

“Are you a virgin?” I asked.
“No, but I wouldn’t say that I’m overly experienced. Only three times, with the same guy.”
“Well, here I come.”
“I can’t wait anymore. I want you. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything!”

I got on top of her, teased her labia with my dick, slowly rubbing it against her pussy. Penetrating it with just the tip before withdrawing. Her labia was so soft and wet and when I put in the tip it clenched me just right, with a succulent and moist sensation.

“Oh, just put it in. Fuck me hard.”

Not one to disappoint, I plunged my whole member into her, making her howl in ecstasy and probably a little pain. Relentless and rigorously I thrust my wet hard cock into her again and again. The feeling of her pussy’s walls were so wet and soft, infinitely welcoming and receptive to my long dick. It contracted itself, hugging me tightly, but never suffered in lubrication. She was so wet I easily went in and out of her. It’s a popular misconception that a pussy tightens when aroused, and that the vagina grows sloppy with usage. In truth, a vagina only gets easier to penetrate the more aroused it gets – that’s part of the purpose of physical arousal – and not in any way would a human dick have a chance of permanently stretching out a vagina. And I could tell she was extremely aroused, her cunt was lubed up like crazy. So I shamelessly pumped away, showing no mercy as I fucked her.

She threw her arms around me, bringing my face down to suck on her left nipple as I massaged her right breast. Her moaning got subsequently louder, until she let out an animal-like yell.

“Ooooooh! Fuck, I’m cumming!”
“Shh, my whole family can hear you.”

Of course, if anyone barged in I would probably be able make them forget about the whole thing, but the embarrassment might kill the mood, and I really wanted to finish this properly.

“Besides,” I continued. “I’m going to make you cum at least one more time.”
“At least?”
“At the very least.”

I kept pounding her pussy, sucking and biting on her nipples, switching from one to the other and back. Her legs arose and curled around by hips, as she grabbed my hair and clawed at my back. I felt closer to climaxing, felt it building up, but I could keep going, though I might need to slow down for a while. Our eyes met, and in hers I saw pure bliss.

You belong to me

“Matt… Oh god..! I… I’m yours..!”

I was just about to cum when the door opened.

“Heard an old buddie of mine was-”
“Jordan!” Denise yelled in shock.
“What the… what are you…”

Jordan, close the door

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

Now come closer