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From: Daemon Way <daemonway@yahoo.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: "Teacher Part One" (F, t, mind control)
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Date: Mon, 20 Jun 2005 01:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Teacher01.doc" begin>

TEACHER - PART ONE

By Daemon Way

<a href="mailto:daemonway@yahoo.ca">daemonway@yahoo.ca</a>

The book was thick, worn, and leather bound, exactly the sort of
book in which you'd expect to find a magic spell to turn a
certain teacher into a toad, or perhaps a turd-eating maggot. 
Cory opened it with the hope and faith all thirteen-year-old boys
seeking revenge have.  "The Journal of Isaiah McFarlane."  His
great-grandfather's diary.  Who gave a shit about an old man's
life?  "Fuck," Cory cursed silently as he slapped the book shut
and tossed it in the garbage pile.  He had to curse silently. 
His mother was only a few feet away sorting through a box of
dishes.  If she heard him curse, she'd be even angrier than she
was at the moment, and she was already angry enough.  That was
too bad, about the book that is.  He had really hoped it had been
a spell book so he could get back at Goosey Gilles.  That was
what all the kids called him.  Nobody really knew why.  It was
just something that had always been.

It was Gilles's fault that he was at home that day helping his
mother sort through his grandfather's junk instead of being in
school.  Not that he had any particular desire to be at school
either.  School sucked.  So did Gilles.  First the son of a bitch
had gotten in a hissy fit because he'd forgot to bring his gym
strip and had made him sit on the bench all period in physical
ed.  They were only playing badminton so he didn't see what the
big deal was having to wear gym strip.  Then in computer class
Gilles caught him looking up a porn site.  That wasn't his fault.
 If Gilles hadn't pissed him off in gym, he would have felt more
like working in computers.  Besides, it was a dumb, boring
assignment.  When he had tried explaining that, Gilles had blown
his top and had sent him to the vice principal, who called in his
parents and suspended him for a day.  That was totally dumb.

He'd spent the better part of last night thinking of ways to get
even with Gilles.  He'd imagined capturing him and tossing him in
the lion cage at the local zoo.  He'd imagined burying the son of
a bitch up to his neck in an ant pile so they'd crawl up his
nose, or maybe just up to his crotch so they could crawl up his
pecker.  He'd imagined getting his father's gun and shooting the
son of a bitch, and maybe a few classmates who had been
particular pains in the ass too.  Lots of kids did that sort of
thing these days.  The only problem with that plan was that
Gilles would be dead and he would rather see him suffer.  He'd
either be dead too, from a cop's bullet, or in jail.  That's what
always happened to school shooters.  A better plan would be to
capture Gilles' children and sell them to Arab sex slavers like
he'd read in a story on the Internet.  He'd fallen asleep
thinking about sacrificing Gilles to Satan after torturing him
for a month, maybe two.  Satanism was cool.  He'd read about it
on the net and had even thought about starting his own coven, if
he could find out how.

Glancing about the cluttered garage, he spotted a weird looking
headband.  It looked sort of cool in a way with parts looking
like branches and other parts flattened out to sort of look like
leaves which were different shades of copper, from almost gold to
almost red.  When he picked it up, he was surprised how heavy it
was, as if it was really made of copper wires.  He slipped it
over his head.

"Cory!  Stop playing with every single thing you pick up and get
off your butt and start helping!"

His mother glared at him and he returned the glare.  He was
helping.  He wasn't her bloody slave.  And he wasn't playing.  He
was thirteen years old.  Thirteen-year-old's don't play.  "Take
whatever that thing is you're holding and shove it up your butt
and frig yourself," Cory thought, but what he actually said was,
"I am helping.  Can't you see?"  He prepared himself for a blast
as his mother got a funny look on her face, like she had to fart
but was holding it back or something.  She just stood there with
this strange, puzzled look, looking like she was struggling with
what to say or something.

"I'll, I'll be right back.  You keep sorting out this stuff."

Her voice sounded funny, and as she headed up the walk to the
house, she walked funny, sort of stiff and puppet like, like one
of those animated characters in the cartoons on TV.  Flipping her
the finger, Cory leaned back and surveyed the mess around him. 
His grandfather had died six months ago and they'd moved his
stuff into their garage.  Since he had to be home, his mother had
decided this would be a good day to clean out the garage, and
that he could help her.  Well, fuck her.  If she could take a
break, he sure the fucking hell could too.  Taking off the
headband, he bent over and pulled the cigarette out from his sock
where he had hidden it, but then decided it was too risky to
smoke it.  He had no idea how long his mother would be gone. 
He'd go have a pop and a cookie or something.

Stepping into the kitchen he was surprised his mother wasn't
there and he wondered where she might have gone.  If she'd gone
out the front door as he'd come in the back and circled around
the house and found out he wasn't still working in the garage
he'd be in major shit.  Checking the living room, he noticed the
door to his parent's bedroom was closed.  Now that was curious. 
It certainly was not typical, not for the middle of the day.  A
closed door meant a secret.  It couldn't be that his dad had
slipped home for a quickie.  He would have seen his car.  It was
September. She couldn't be hiding Christmas presents, and he'd
just had his birthday.  Slipping up to the door and listening, he
ever so slowly turned the knob and opened it a crack.  He had no
idea what to expect but the sight that met his eyes certainly was
not something he'd have guessed in a million years.

Lying there on the bed, her legs spread and knees raised and her
backside propped up on a stack of pillows, was his mother, her
jeans and panties on the floor and that object she'd been
holding, which he found out later was a pepper grinder, rammed up
her ass.  He could not believe it.  She was lying there furiously
frigging herself with it.  Now that was totally not like his
mother.  At least he didn't think it was.  Who really knew what
secrets adults really had, especially parents?  At any rate, it
certainly was not something a boy wanted to catch his mother
doing.  Despite that, he could not keep his eyes off what was
happening between her legs.  And, as he stared at her, he could
not help wondering if she was doing it because he'd suggested it.
 That did not make any sense, but it was the only thing that did
at the same time, if that made any sense.

Well, there was one easy way to find out.  Concentrating as he
stared at her lying there on the bed fucking her ass with the
long, black, wooden object, he told her to stop.  She didn't.  He
told her to take the thing out and use her middle finger instead.
 She didn't.  Perhaps it hadn't been him that was responsible for
her frigging her ass after all.  Or perhaps it had, and this time
he wasn't doing it right.

What was he not doing that he had done in the garage?  Nothing. 
It was exactly the same.  Then it came to him.  There was one
difference.  He'd been wearing that strange headband.  Now that
didn't make any sense at all, but it was the only thing he could
think of.  A headband that made people do whatever you thought? 
Now that would be totally wicked, and way better than a spell any
day.  Well, there was only one way to find out.  Besides, if he
was responsible, he couldn't leave his mother lying there
frigging her ass all afternoon.

Returning to the garage, he found the headband and hurried back
to the house.  He peeked through the crack again.  She was still
frigging herself.  From the look on her face he couldn't tell if
she was having the thrill of a life time or if she was in pain. 
She was breathing hard and she had her eyes clenched shut. 
Putting the headband on, he concentrated, telling her to stop and
to take the thing she had up her ass out.  She did!  Of course
that could just as well have been because she'd grown tired of
frigging her ass or whatever.  There was one easy way to find
out.  "Now, frig your pussy with it," he concentrated as he
watched her through the crack.

Marian Wilson lay there staring at the black, wooden pepper mill
as she felt the new urge.  Her face was an expression of total
bewilderment.  Why she'd just done what she had she had no idea.
She'd just had this compelling urge to do it while she'd been in
the garage.  It made no sense, but it had been an urge she could
not resist no matter how hard she'd fought it, and she had fought
it.  Never in her thirty-seven years had she ever even thought of
doing such a thing, or anything remotely like it.  Now she had a
new urge.  In this case as a teenage girl and young woman she'd
heard of other women who used objects on themselves that way. 
Again it was not something she'd ever considered doing, not until
that very moment.  Now the urge was all consuming.  She had to do
it.  She tried to will herself to stop, but she could not. Ever
so slowly her right arm brought the pepper mill around and
pointed it at her pussy.  The urge to stick it in was
overwhelming.  It was not a matter of need or horniness or
curiosity.  It was just that it was something she had to do.  It
was as if some outside force was forcing her to do it, something
that had control of her mind, and of her arm, as if she was
bewitched.  She had to be to be doing something so perverted, so
totally against her upbringing.

She strained with all her effort but her hand kept drawing the
pepper mill closer.  It was streaked with her shit and a bit of
blood, the result of her ass having never had anything shoved up
it before.  It was disgusting having something shoved up her
vagina, and even more disgusting having something so filthy
shoved up her womanhood, but she could not stop it.  She resisted
with all her strength.  What she was about to do was the most
filthy and perverted thing she'd ever done in her life, but ever
so certainly and as if in slow motion, as if watching a movie of
someone else, she brought the tip of the pepper mill to the lips
of her pussy and began to push it in.  Her pussy opened up to the
object of course, being designed to be penetrated, making it much
easier and less painful than shoving it up her rectum.  Still, it
was wrong, very wrong.  Knowing that, and feeling that, she still
slowly slipped the filthy object up her vagina.  What she was
doing was sick, but she could not fight it.

Cory stood there at the door watching his mother stick the object
she had just shoved up her ass up her pussy with wide-eyed
disbelief and wonder.  She was slowly inserting the filthy,
shit-smeared object up her cunt.  She was actually doing it,
doing what he'd told her.  How could she do such a thing?!  How
could he have told her?!  It was totally perverted.  His eyes
were glued to his mother's crotch as she slowly slipped the long,
thick tubular object up her cunt until she had at least half of
it up her, and then after a pause, slowly began to withdraw it. 
She was doing it!  She was frigging herself!  His own mother! 
That was so sick, so totally perverted, so totally fucking
erotic.  She was working the fucking object in and out of her
cunt like some horny slut.  Because he'd told her to.  She was
breathing heavily again, and her eyes were clenched shut again. 
Again he couldn't tell if it was because she was in ecstasy or in
pain.  His eyes dropped down to her crotch again, to his mother's
pussy.  He slowly realized he had a boner.  Now that was really
sick. Getting a boner watching his mother frig her pussy!  What
sort of perv was he!  He told her to stop it.

As she did, he realized he was breathing as hard as she was.  He
told her to take the thing out and to put on her panties and
jeans.  She began to do so, slowly, as if in a daze.  Cory was in
a daze too.  He still couldn't believe he was controlling her
actions.  He concentrated, telling to pat her head. She did. 
Fuck!  The things he could do with this headband!  The things he
could do to Goosey Gilles!  His mind spun with the possibilities.
 So did his mother's.  Realizing she just might be reading his
thoughts he quickly yanked the headband off in a panic.  As he
watched, she seemed to slowly come to, as if waking up from a
dream, or a spell.  He smiled. This was too totally fucking
awesome to believe.  He quickly turned and headed for the garage.
 He couldn't wait for school on Monday!  Was Gilles ever going to
pay for sending him to the VP's office.  He suddenly stopped and
put the headband back on and concentrated.  "Come out to the
garage and tell me tell your son to take the rest of the
afternoon off, and give him twenty bucks to go play video games,"
he thought.

What happens next?  What would you like Cory to do first to
Goosey Gilles?  Have you ever had a teacher you hated and wanted
to get even with?  Email me your idea and I'll write it as the
next story and with you as one of the students in his class. 
Anything goes, the hotter and more perverted the better, except I
don't write snuff and rape of kids.

<1st attachment end>


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