FiremenPart 2 Firehouse Barbeque
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Set Fire To The RainChapter 4 free porn video
"How did you get keys to the school?" I asked. "And the alarm code!"
"I'm hot," Karen replied.
I stared at her back. She was leading me towards the gym. The halls were empty, which made sense for a Saturday night. It gave me the chills though. I'd only been in the building during school hours. The place was too quiet!
"Is that your explanation for everything now?" I asked to fill the emptiness with some sound. "Why do you wear skirts that short? I'm hot! Why do you talk back to teachers now? I'm hot. How you kick the crap out of four guys? I'm hot!"
Karen stopped and turned to face me. I set myself for the yelling, but she put a finger to her mouth and looked at the ceiling.
"There are three explanations for everything since you made me swallow your cum," she said after a couple of seconds of thought. Ticking them off with her fingers, she said, "You like it. I'm hot. You made me this way."
She tilted her head to the side. "I'm hot and you made me this way are the same thing, but being hot is how I get other people to do things for me. It's a little clearer to say 'I'm hot' when it's about the janitor letting me borrow his keys."
Spinning around sent her skirt flaring. White thong!
"You like short skirts and thongs," she said.
I wasn't a believer about 'making' her that way, but I'd follow her ass anywhere.
Karen hadn't been able to explain anything about me being a so-called Maker. An online friend told her what might be happening after the first unexplained weight loss and how to confirm it. Apparently, confirmation involved cutting herself and using my semen as a home remedy. Karen offered to show me how it worked; I refused since it's not a good idea to confront a possibly crazy person with the fact that they're crazy. Instead, Karen asked her friend to meet us and talk to me about being a Maker.
Karen held the gym door open for me. I didn't have to look for her friend. She was waiting for us at mid-court. In a wheelchair! I looked at Karen, who nodded confidently at me.
"Hello," the woman said, as I got closer.
She was ancient!
"Hello, Michael," she said, studying me. "You're not what I imagined considering Karen."
I frowned.
"She's a big girl," the old woman explained. "You're what? A foot shorter than her."
"Nine inches is not a foot!" I insisted.
"She has to outweigh you by a good fifty pounds," the old woman said, looking from Karen to me.
"Hey!" Karen yelled.
"Come on, girl!" The old woman said with a smile. "I know he's stocky but..."
"Thirty pounds," Karen said with a sniff.
"If you say so." The old woman waved a hand dismissively. They were joking thankfully. Karen didn't usually take kindly to people making jokes about her weight or her weight loss.
"She talked to you the entire time," I said to the old woman.
She nodded.
I relaxed a little. If Karen had been talking to the old woman during her weight loss, I would have help talking Karen off the roof when she realized there was nothing supernatural about what she'd done. Wait--this was the woman who told Karen I was responsible for the weight loss. Shit!
"Let me guess," the old woman said to me. "You don't believe."
I glanced at Karen.
The old woman nodded. "Lucky for us, we can rather spectacularly demolish the present limitations of your worldview."
My shoulders tightened.
"Don't worry about Karen for now," the old woman said. "Your positions are too opposed. It's easier to convince you she's right than it will be to convince her you're right."
"But I am right," I said.
"Then if you do what I say, Karen will see you fail and maybe we'll poke a hole in her faith," the old woman said agreeably.
Except her eyes weren't agreeing. I sighed--two crazy females! I might have to talk both of them off the roof.
"Karen, stand there." The old woman pointed to a spot six feet to my left. "Legs shoulder-width apart and your arms stretched out parallel to the ground. Reach for the walls, dear."
With a nod, Karen got into position.
"You don't believe," the old woman said to me. "So this will fail and you can get to putting your friend's mind back together, right?"
I shrugged.
"Face me and stretch your arm towards Karen," the old woman said. "Don't pose! Let your feet go where it feels natural."
I looked down at my feet; they looked pretty comfortable to me.
"Don't look at Karen," the old woman barked.
I frowned, staring at a point over the old woman's head.
"Spread your fingers and reach for her."
"This is ridiculous," I said.
"Yes, it is," the old woman replied. "You don't need the position or stances, but it will help you focus the first time."
I stretched my hand out towards Karen.
"One last thing," the old woman whispered. "Think about cumming in her. Karen is on her knees. Her hands are at the small of her back. Your hands are on the back of her head. You're fucking her mouth and throat. You can feel it in Karen--her orgasm gathering! She's going to cum from sucking her Master's cock. Your cock!"
Karen gasped. I turned to look at her. She was glowing! Suddenly a bar of light connected my hand to her chest. To her heart! The light was solid, like a smooth lightning bolt. I stared at the bar; no heat came off it just ... Power!
Power flowed from Karen to me!
"Jesus!" I whispered.
"Look at me!" the old woman yelled.
My eyes drifted slowly to her. She was aiming a shotgun at me.
"Shield!" she yelled.
My other hand went up towards her. I spread my fingers a second before she pulled the trigger. A half-dome of light formed a foot in front of my hand. I saw the shotgun recoil but didn't hear it fire. I felt something hit the shield. I fucking felt it! Like the shield ... no, like the power was a part of me.
"Bitch!" I said.
I balled the hand into a fist. Opening my hand, I sent a beam of light at her. The old woman flew out of her chair.
"Michael!" Karen screamed. "Don't!"
"Freeze!" someone yelled.
Looking behind me, I saw the female cop from the principal's office. Michelle! She had her gun aimed at me. The shield extended around to cover me from the cop. Facing Karen, I backed up until I could keep an eye on the old woman and Michelle at the same time.
"I said freeze, kid!" Michelle barked. "You too, Karen!"
Karen ignored her, walking through the shield to stand behind me.
"Can you put that away?" the old woman said to Michelle.
We watched the old woman crawl to the wheelchair.
"Giving me a hand would be the polite thing to do." The old woman looked at Michelle and then at her wheelchair. "The gun isn't going to do you any good against an Energy Wizard. He's still young though; if you happen to have a cannon in your car, it might do the trick."
Michelle looked at me before shaking her head. She holstered her gun. Up righting the chair, Michelle gently helped the old woman back into it.
Karen pressed against my back.
"You don't seem surprised," Karen said to Michelle.
The cop leaned against the wheelchair. She shrugged before speaking, "I'm a cop. I also used to play volleyball in college."
I looked her up and down; Michelle was two inches shorter than me.
"Defensive specialist," Michelle told me. "I had an absolutely killer jump serve too."
"I don't understand," Karen said.
"Honey, I played at the collegiate level," Michelle told her. "I know a Juiced player when I see one in action."
"And the cop thing?" Karen asked.
"The authorities know about Makers and others," the old woman said. "At highest levels anyway. The foot soldiers just know they have to report strange things up their chain of command."
"They even pay us a bonus," Michelle told Karen. "After they're sure that we're not pursuing it."
I was good with letting them do the talking.
"Michael," the old woman said. "You can hold the shield without the light show."
The shield got brighter.
"Okay, I'm sorry." The old woman shaded her eyes with a hand.
"Be nice," Karen said, poking me in the back of the neck. "She needed to prove a lot to you very quickly."
"She shot me!" I said in hard voice.
"Good point," Karen said. "Should I break her neck?"
"If you kill her, you're going to have to kill me," Michelle told us.
"Should I break their necks?"
Michelle put her hand on top of her gun. The old woman grabbed Michelle's forearm.
"Please don't," the old woman said to Michelle. "I should have given him a little more time before I shot him."
"Why DID you shoot me?" I asked.
"You know, I can't deal with that," I said before she could respond. Looking at the shield, I concentrated on dimming the brightness.
"Good job!" Karen said with a clap when the shield was barely perceptible.
"How did you know we'd be here?" I asked Michelle.
"I've been following Karen," she replied. "According to the witnesses, she fought four boys her age, going toe-to-toe with one of them and beating his ass down. Three of the boys ended up in the hospital. It made me curious so I called a friend with a son who is a fan of girls' volleyball. The kid recorded all the games this year. You're not a very skilled player, Karen, but you've got the power and athleticism to make up the difference. In fact, you'd shine in any sport."
"Thank you," Karen replied.
Michelle shrugged. "Juicing is an accepted reality, which no one talks about in college sports. There's going to be recruiters coming around to see you. If you learn how to play, it will be a lot of recruiters."
"Wait, so people know about me?" I asked. "And 'Juicing'? I thought that was for steroids."
"Steroids don't do that," Michelle said, gesturing up and down Karen's body. "I was serious--nobody asks questions."
I stared at the old woman.
"Most people don't believe; Makers don't advertise either," she told me. "The governments prefer it that way. In fact, most governments have a don't ask/don't ask policy."
"So this is for real?" I asked the old woman and Michelle.
"You're a Maker," the old woman said.
"If you thought Karen was being Juiced, why didn't you report it and get your bonus by ignoring it?" I asked Michelle. "You didn't have to follow her."
Karen leaned down to put her mouth next to my ear. "Let's leave Michelle for later."
Karen grabbed my head and turned it towards the old woman.
"Why the fuck did you shoot me?" I asked loudly. "The light show from Karen to me was enough to make me listen."
"There's not a lot a Vessel can teach a Maker. It's like the oil barrel explaining combustion to a Formula One driver," the old woman replied. "Any doubts left?"
I shook my head slowly.
"You've drawn from your Vessel, shielded, and attacked," the old woman said. "Drawing from yourself is easier--I'm a little surprised you haven't done it yet. That's pretty much all there is to it, especially for you."
"Why especially for him?" Michelle asked. I glanced at her--why was she asking questions?
"Michael is an Energy Wizard," the old woman said.
"I though I was a Maker," I said.
"They don't like to be called wizards," she explained. "Maker is a the generic title, but there are subgroup and subclass names depending on the type of power. You all 'make' magical energy. The classes use the energy differently. An Illusionist. A Fire-Mage. A Water-Mage. An Influence-Mentalist. You're an Energy Wizard."
"So what can I do?" I asked.
"Yeah..." the old woman winced and touched her chest. "You can't do much more than shield and blast, like you did to me."
"Seriously?" I asked.
"That's a bummer," Michelle said to the old woman.
"So I'm still a wimp," I said.
"I didn't say that." The old woman leaned towards me. "Of the one hundred most powerful Makers who have ever lived, five were Energy Wizards."
"So?" Karen asked from behind me.
"One through four and number six on the list," the old woman told her. "Care to guess how many Energy Wizards have achieved their Rank as a Maker."
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