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Subject: {ASSM} From Where I Sit {Tullius} (MF mc)
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<1st attachment, "wheresit.txt" begin>
Author: Tullius <tullius@cantshootfs.cjb.net>
Title: From Where I Sit
Summary: Ferdinand the Polesitter rules the whole world, but he still
can't get any. At least, not directly.
Keywords: MF mc
Disclaimer: If you're under the legal age of majority in your
jurisdiction, you should have been amply warned not to read this by now,
but for the sake of the incredible levels of repetition demanded by
lawyers I'll say it again. This work of fiction is just that, fiction,
any similarity to a real person or persons, living or dead, is
coincidental. Moreover, it's a piece of fiction intended to be read by
open-minded adults, and should not be viewed by minors. If you're under
eighteen years of age, you are duly warned to read no further, and the
author disclaims all civil and criminal liability that might be
construed to result from anything that happens to you if you do so.
Redistribution of this work is allowed under the following conditions.
Firstly, it must be verbatim, and this disclaimer and boring copyright
stuff must be attached. Second, you must not accept any payment for
redistribution of this work, even if that payment is only to cover costs
of the distribution medium. Third, you must email me at the above
address to let me know that you're redistributing it.
The author will accept positive feedback and praise of all kinds with
blushing gratitude, pay due heed to respectfully-phrased constructive
criticism, and send flames to /dev/null with extreme prejudice, possibly
rebutting them in an annoyingly calm and reasonable tone if he can be
bothered.
***
"I believe the time, your Most Sapient Highness, has not yet come for
our session here to end."
The voice of the High Priest was serene, but any of his subordinates in
the priesthood would have found the atmosphere in the arboretum anything
but tranquil. Such a one would have felt the power arcing between the
High Priest and his student as the latter tried to leave and the former
tried to detain him.
Ultimately, the Crown Prince won, and replied to his teacher in a tone
that tried to mimic the other's, but was in the end far too exultant at
the victory to truly mock serenity, let alone convey it.
"Can it have slipped the mind of your Most Puissant Eminence that this
is my palace? That here I am entitled to do as I please?"
"Hardly, just as I am sure that your Highness is aware that his Blessed
Majesty, your Highness's father, has mandated that I instruct you in the
ways of the talent that is your birthright for no fewer than three hours
in each day."
"Your Eminence is famed for wisdom, therefore it cannot have escaped
your Eminence that my father is a doddering, infuriating," here the
Prince's voice rose in pitch until he sounded much younger than his
twenty-eight years, "insane old fool!"
*
Far away from the palace of the Crown Prince, which was situated in the
centre of an expansive forest estate on the outskirts of the new world
capital of Megalopolis, his Most Blessed and Gracious Majesty, Ferdinand
the First, known to his people (when they thought themselves unobserved)
as Ferdinand the Polesitter, grinned at the naivete of his son. The
poor boy thought that just because neither he nor the High Priest could
read a mind further away than the next room, no-one could. To be fair
to Prince Maximilian, Ferdinand had thought so himself, until he earned
his popular epithet by making the discovery that it was all a question
of altitude. From his seat on what the citizens down below called The
Needle, he could reach into the minds of every human being within a
hundred miles. If one of those should happen to be a telepath also, he
could use his power to take over that telepath's mind and use him or her
as a repeater, extending the range of his influence. One day, some
forty years ago, he had arranged to have a web of his priests in
moderately tall buildings spanning the entire globe, and had used them
to broadcast his Message. He, and the priests who served him, were the
messengers of the one true faith, the faith of which all religions were
merely imperfect copies. Communicating in the language of pure thought
meant that he could divert himself endlessly by watching the different
ways people interpreted the Message. He was known variously as Messiah,
Mahdi, avatar and occasionally The Reincarnated Lennon. The raw power
necessary to send the Message, even inducing all his repeater-priests to
re-transmit with all their strength, had left Ferdinand seriously
weakened. He was impotent, prematurely grey and had started to walk
with a cane at the age of thirty. Since he had not loved his long-time
partner, the mother of his only son, enough to tell her about his
talent, she had left him. He had loved her sufficiently, however, to
allow her to go with her mind intact. So it had remained, by and large.
Ferdinand tried not to think too hard about the measures the priests
must have taken to induce her to let their son undergo the necessary
training to succeed his father, without telling her exactly of what that
training would consist. In fact, Ferdinand tried not to think too hard
about his ex at all.
It would not do, Ferdinand decided for the umpteenth time, to let his
loving people know what their godhead spent all those hours on the
Needle doing. Notbeing able to satisfy his needs directly, the Emperor,
now fifty-seven and looking over ninety, was in the habit of making a
select few of his six-plus billion subjects' wildest dreams come true.
He stretched his awareness out through the minds of everyone within
range, took subtle control over the minds of a few priests, causing them
at the most to stutter briefly before co-opting their subconscious minds
for use as repeaters and leaving the rest to get on with whatever it had
been engaged with. He had a small inward chuckle, as he always did,
over the sheer volume of sexual thought that he could hear from the
inhabitants of Megalopolis and its environs. Teenagers had the funniest
minds to listen in on. The sheer volume of their fantasies made it
almost impossible for a telepath to ignore them when they were in range;
it offered a handy barometer by which they could measure the
entertainment value offered by their sermons. Opening his mind to all
such thoughts within the extended range offered by the Needle and the
depth of his talent offered Ferdinand an embarrassment of riches from
which to choose. Usually he preferred fantasies that had a bit of
substance to them, if only because it was fun to watch an ambitious
teenager enter upon a daydream because he was horny, choose one that was
too wordy, and end up skipping most of the exposition. Winnowing
through the mass of hormonal fever available was just beginning to prove
an impossible task when a new voice made itself audible above the
hubbub.
"Hey, sweets. I missed you."
"Not like I missed you, cutie-pie. I'm sorry I had to step out, there."
The voices were coming from the same mind. The first one, the female,
was almost the archetype of the cheesecake fantasy bombshell, but with
nuances that spoke of intellect, and, which is more, wisdom. The second
voice was the regular internal monologue of the hapless individual that
had come under Ferdinand's mental inspection. Intrigued, he rooted
around in the young man's psyche: he was nineteen, was named Monty
Edwards and had given up on finding love. Or rather, he had given up on
finding another human being to love. Instead he had constructed an
ideal mate using his unusually powerful imagination: she was busty,
blonde and had a butt that just wouldn't quit, but more importantly she
had wisdom beyond her years (her birthdate, celebrated religiously by
Monty, was March the 3rd, 2012, making her a year younger than him), and
a fundamental kindness of spirit which had been lovingly formed under
the influence of an equally imaginary doting grandfather.
Ferdinand was fascinated; he had been searching for something new for
some time, and this was original in his experience. What was most
piquant about the situation was that Monty couldn't quite picture his
mate's face. Her smooth, vanilla ice-cream thighs, her hourglass curves
and generous bosom; her waist-length hair the colour of sunlight shining
through clear honey, even her dainty feet were all readily visible in
his mind's eye, but her face eluded him. He knew facts about it: that
her eyes were a little close-set and a bright blue the colour of flax
flowers, that her nose had a habit of twitching, and that overall her
countenance reminded him of an unbearably cute bunnyrabbit were known;
he had told her so on more than one occasion. But the immediate
impression her face was apt to make on the eye, beyond its surpassing
cuteness, was a mystery.
For the moment, Ferdinand remained an undetected and passive observer,
listening to the imagined conversation between the two love-birds.
"I think I may have to put my arms around you, squeezy hubby."
"Oh, good. That way you won't notice that I have to put *my* arms
around you and squeeze you until you've only just got enough room to
breathe."
"Suits me, big teddy bear."
"I love you, Bunny."
"I love you too."
*Ugh, he hasn't actually named her 'Bunny', has he?* Ferdinand thought
to himself, before digging about to find the answer: in fact she was
named Antonia, but the saccharine nicknames and baby-talk were a part of
their relationship that they both recognised as a necessary and
comforting reminder of the blissful status quo within their marriage.
Ferdinand decided to get proactive. He put Monty into a mild comatose
state and cast around the immediate neighbourhood for someone close
enough.
He found her, sitting alone in front of the TV, enjoying an hour's
brainless relaxation whilst contemplating what to do with the rest of
the evening. It was only half past nine.
Her name was Laura Sachsen. Her hair was the wrong colour, but that
wouldn't matter. She had the boobs and the body, and she lived in the
same apartment building as Monty. Ferdinand had Monty get up and
sleepwalk to the front door when she got there. He let her in, and she
followed him to his bedroom. As soon as the door had shut behind them
Ferdinand put the finishing touches on their temporary mental
re-programming, and opened their eyes. They kissed with passion, Monty
believing he was playing tongue-hockey with his love, and Laura's
submerged self not thinking very much of anything.
"Mmmm," Monty murmured in pleasure, "let's see these boobs."
He and Bunny undressed each other slowly, sensually, stopping to drop
light kisses on each other's revealed bodies. When her breasts were
free, he began nuzzling them overenergetically, like a blind rabbit,
before latching on to her nipples and running his tongue around them.
He kept this up for a while before his lover disengaged him and said
"Naughty teddy bear! You know you're not supposed to do this unless
you've got something..." she placed a hand on his shaft, "for me." He
was harder than he could ever remember being, and thinking that this
fantasy was a doozy.
Bunny bent over in front of him and looked back with lust in her eyes.
"Stick it to me, big teddy bear."
He didn't need to be told twice. Ferdinand felt the walls of her slick
tunnel welcoming Monty in, felt the delicious heft of her big breasts in
Monty's hands as he thrust into her. He took her lovingly, as Ferdinand
sensed that he was trying to get an idea of her wants, he began feeding
him a stream of feedback that Monty assumed was coming from her pussy.
He worked with it, and they both moaned with the heightened pleasure.
He didn't, couldn't last long under those conditions, and shot his load
into her as he felt her own orgasm. They lay down, relaxed in one
another's arms, and Antonia purred softly as he fell asleep.
When he woke, he was alone, but he thought he heard a voice, the tail
end of a dream he couldn't remember. He was dimly aware that the voice
was the Emperor's, but he couldn't have reacted even if he'd known how.
"Thanks, kid," the voice said, "that was good stuff. You've made an old
man very happy. Here's a little something by way of thanks." The voice
faded away like the grin of the Cheshire cat, and Monty found that he
could see the face of his love clearly in his mind's eye for the first
time in his life.
<1st attachment end>
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