As an eight year old boy, I was attacked by a neighbor- hood dog that had escaped her leash and bolted toward me in a blur of black and tan fur. All I remember about that event was an intense feeling of impending doom. And then, suddenly, that the black and brown colors of that angry streak of fur gave way to what I can to this day only describe as a 'fog' of colors - Angry, blind, raging colors: hot reds, and oranges.

I stood frozen in place waiting for the first bite when suddenly, without realizing it, I pushed 'blues' up out of the 'fog' and suppressed the 'reds' and 'oranges.' The bitch stopped her charge, turned from me, and loped off to sit in the grass.

The owner came running shortly after to capture and secure the animal - He looked at me in disbelief that I was still alive and uninjured.

I paid little attention to him, too busy trying to absorb the immense fact that I was in the dog's head, in her mind, seeing and manipulating her emotional condition. Each day after that, I would pass the owner's house and 'fog' his dog. I imagined the bitch and I had some sort of bond, some psychical connection between us. And so I tested that connection, torturing the beast with a roller coaster ride of emotional impulses. In time I discovered I could control the animal up to a half block away, and fog her with emotional changes ranging from frothing rage to wanton rut almost at will. It depended on which colors I found in her mind and how hard I tried to push them.

Actually, color isn't the best way to describe what I see. It's more like a dense emotional cloud, diffuse, inchoate - in the aura of a animal. The emotional content of that cloud appeared to me as colors - blues fading to yellows, greens or reds. I could see these emotions and had the ability to amplify, trim or suppress them entirely. Fogging the dog was fun, but being a kid, I never thought my link with the dog as anything but a weird private curiosity like discovering a dead body or looking at the results of ones nose pickings. In time I lost all interest in the thing as the newness of the experience faded.

And. of course, like any healthy eight year old, I learned how to masturbate instead.

And that's the most it ever came to until I was thir- teen - and met another fogger. My parents had taken the family to Disney World for February school vacation and I hated the trip - too many people, too hot, too much wasted time waiting in line behind too wide asses for too few exciting rides.

My brother and I dumped the rest of them, after about three days and wandered the park looking at girls. So many there were. We met two girls from Atlanta -- Aeisha and Kim, cute, young, barely blooming but easy to talk to.

They loved the fact that we talked so "proper." And we relished in their attention and tried every possible approach to get to first base with them.

It was fun, but the late afternoon approached and we were under orders to meet the folks at the EPCOT Center by five. So with much regret, we left them and made our way toward the imposed rendezvous.

We talked about the girls as we made our way through the park. My brother had squeezed out a last minute promise from the older of the two, Kim, to meet the next day. He bragged she was hot for him and he was determined to feel her up if they ever met again.

I thought he was more than a little delusional; most likely the only thing he would get to feel was the back of their hands across his face, I shot back.

My brother didn't answer. I repeated myself, looking at him this time. Again he acted like he never heard a word I said. He just continued walking along beside me expressionless, treating me as if I didn't exist.

About the same time, I began to feel the most astound- ing sensation: my mind was being 'tickled' - that's the only way I can describe it. I looked away from my brother in the direction of the feeling and saw an even more amazing sight: a couple were waiting in the hot Florida sun for their turn on a ride.

A guy was about 20 or so, tall, dark haired and very athletic looking. His companion was about the same age, with long blonde hair, big tits and a nice body. She was wearing a pale green halter top held closed by a knot between her wonderful breasts, and a pair of tight coochie cutter shorts.

That was a nice enough view, but not unusual that day. What was, however, was the black man standing behind the girl with his hands up under her halter, busily massaging the hell out of her tits as the couple con- tinued waiting patiently for their turn as if completely unaware.

The tickling sensation increased to an irritating itch as I pulled closer to the trio. I grabbed my brother's arm and made my way over to them to watch this amazing outrage happening in plain view in the middle of Disney World of all places.

The black guy didn't even look at me as he spoke. "So you're the one I felt all day?" He said.

"Huh?" I could barely blurt out.

"You're a fogger, right...you can fog?"


"Com'ere kid. See this bitch. She from Europe or some fucking place. I come here once or twice a week to grab me a new piece of pussy from the tourists passing through. I saw her this mornin' and decided I'd take her to her hotel for a few days, fuck the hell out of her and send her on her merry way.

I can do that 'cause I can fog, you understand. I think you can fog too. If you couldn't you wouldn't be talkin' to me right now. You'd be like that kid beside you, drooling on yourself." He pointed to my brother, who was indeed drooling all over himself, like some retard.

"So can you fog?"

"I dunno..."

"I think you can. Feel that itch in your head, that's me fogging this park. You ever seen inside a person's mind."

"A dog... once... a long time ago."

"Yeah, a dog's easy to fog. Not much there to cover their feelings. Peoples though, that takes more prac- tice. You gotta get through all that reasonin' and shit. See this girl's mind, like all these other peoples here. They's emotions are buried deeper than a dogs, but you can find 'em if you look hard enough. Foggin's not like seeing. It's more like mining. You can walk over land filled with gold, but never know it's there 'lessin you start diggin'. 'An' you won't see nobody's emotions, 'lessin you cut through all that intellect."

I looked in the girl's, the first mind I had seen in five years - and the first human mind I had seen ever. her cloud was very dense, tighter and more chaotic than anything I had ever seen in that dog.

He held her in a deep blue state. But it was a blue I had never seen before, almost black with streaks of yellows and gold's. The dog had shown yellows when she was in rut - but again, not like this shit. Pure and intense like staring into the sun, pulled and swirling in and out of the blue-black of her fogged quiescence.

I pulled out her mind and looked into my brother's. His was the same inky blue-black, but with little else ex- cept here and there traces of a greenish twinkle. I had never seen that color in the dog's mind, so I didn't know what it meant.

Then I tried to look in the fogger's mind. I was sur- prised to find brilliant colors dancing everywhere. They swirled and tumbled through his head like a kitten playing with a ball of yawn.

I was drawn deeper into the colors and rushed toward... where... I didn't know. With a panic I realized I was being drawn along into some ancient hidden place inside his head and couldn't pull back. The colors began to run and bleed into each other and far below I sensed some awful brown space toward which I was being drag- ged. I tried to break off but there was nothing I could do to break off contact with his mind. Then, pain... and I was laying on the ground looking up into his face.

"You a stupid kid ain't ya? Stupid or just unlearned. Ya don't never try to look in the mind of no fogger. If there's gold in these peoples' minds, there's noth- ing but quicksand in the mind of another fogger. You get caught in there, and both ya be idiots quick, fast, and in a hurry. If I hadn't slapped the shit out ya, we'd both be done now."

He helped me up, brushed the dirt off my ass, turned me around and continued as if nothing had happened. "No one but me and you notices I'm checking this bitch's goods out. They can't... don't even know their own name bout now. You the first fogger I met in bout six years. Watch this." He lifted the young woman's arms up, and pulled her halter top off. He grabbed one of her tits and wiggled it in my direction.

"You ever see a nice pair of tits like these? Nice... big nipples, all pink and shit, taste good too... wanna lick?"

What the fuck!, I thought. I looked at the girl stand- ing there, her arms raised to the sky just as he had put them, her halter top dangling from her fingers, letting the guy squeeze and rub on her tits. Every so often she and her boyfriend, moved forward as the line made its way to the ride's entrance. This shit was too fucking amazing to a thirteen year old boy!

"So fool, you wanna lick or not?"


"Well get over here." Against my better judgment, I moved over to the girl and stared at her face. Like some idiot, I waved my hands in front of her eyes to see if she would blink. It was like I wasn't even there.

"You better hurry up, I gotta go...'Old Henry' is waiting for this fine shit."

I figured I had better take up the guy's offer or never get another chance. I gently fingered her nipple, feel- ing a buzz of surrealistic displacement, as I encountered the object of every young boy's fantasy. This was too fucking unreal to be happening. The nipple met my finger with a spongy resistance, I could feel the minute pimples and wrinkles on it and the pink aureole surrounding it.

I traced the line of ridges along to the smooth skin of her breast and my hand slipped over the heavy roundness, enjoying the tickley feeling of the nipple against my pressing palm.

That got me so wound up, I came in my pants. The sudden feeling of hot semen splashing against my shorts and onto my thigh scared me near to faint. And produced a wicked laugh out of my would be mentor.

"Hey, boy... guess you liked that. Best you clean your- self up before someone sees you. But watch this first. I get a kick outta this shit."

He slowly released the girl from her fog, and as he did I could see her cloud get denser until the colors all but winked out in pitch black. The girl's arms fell to her side, dropping her halter top to the ground. She resumed her conversation with her boyfriend in some language I couldn't understand.

There she was stark naked from the waist up and she hadn't noticed yet. The man spoke to her in friendly voice and she smiled. He leaned over and whispered something to her and her face turned ashen as she drop- ped her eyes to her chest as if to confirm something. The look of horror spread and her cheeks began to redden, she turned to her boyfriend in a complete state of confusion and panic. Henry quickly extinguished her anguish as he put her back under.

He turned to me and laughed. "Boy you gonna have some fun with this. I'll be goin' now. Me and this here babe got some fucking to do. From now on, you gonna have to get your own feels. Bye."

I watched him walk off toward the park entrance giggling to himself, with the girl following him like some kinda puppy. Her boyfriend still stood there in the hot sun waiting patiently for his turn on the ride. On the ground, at the man's feet, lay the pale green halter she had been wearing.

I decided it was time I got the hell out of there before I got arrested for being in presence of a missing girl. Grabbing my brother's hand, I pulled him in a dead run toward the EPCOT Center and our parents.

That night I laid awake thinking about that crazy man, and that girl (and everyone else for that matter) standing there letting him do what he wanted to her. Most of all, I thought about touching her tit, and cumming in my pants. I didn't know cumming like that was possible.

Two days later, I fogged my brother for the first time.

And the last time, unfortunately. We were returning home from Disney World, my parents, my brother and sister and myself. I had been trying to figure this fogging stuff out for two days. I had succeeded only in getting my face slapped by Henry and Aiesha, (my brother and sister) for my effort.

Sitting in the back of the car with them, the trip was boring and we were restless. To break the monotony of the road I tried to see if I could get into my brother's head. Mostly all I got was that dense cloud of inky blackness surrounding his emotional core.

Then, on the sixth or seventh try, I discovered the knack - his 'intellect' thinned and revealed the bril- liant colors I had only seen with the man's help in the park that day. my brother's jaw dropped and a stuporous grin formed on his face. In his mind, azure streaks arose out of the blue-black cloud then pale pinks and even paler greens.

* * * * *

That was the last thing I remember. Three months later I woke up in a hospital bed in traction. Inadvertently, I had fogged the entire car. My father, as locked in a stupor as my brother, had driven into the back of tractor-trailer.

In the mad catastrophe that followed, he died, along with my sister and mother. My brother was a vegetable; he died six months later, never regaining consciousness.

After another month or so in the hospital, I was sent to a foster care to live. I was placed with a nice enough minister and his fat, happy wife, who cooked the best food I'd ever tasted. I shared the home with three other kids - twins boys, whose crack-head mom had lost custody of them at birth, they were four. And Melissa, a sixteen year old girl whose parents had also died in a car crash two years earlier. The agency thought it would help me to adjust if I was placed with her, see- ing as we shared similar histories.

The Minister and his wife were nice enough. Although he looked very grim, I never heard him speak above a deep whisper. He even preached that way in church, holding the entire congregation in rapt attention in a voice I scarce believed carried to the back of the tabernacle.

He was six and a half feet tall and skinny as a rail. Strict too. He'd have us up each morning to read the bible before school, every meal began with his bles- sing, and, under the fat smiling face of his wife, the house was organized along near military lines. "Never forget your family, boy. Blood's all you have." He would say. And made sure I visited my brother in the hospital every day to conduct a 'prayer meeting' until the day he died.

The twins, Shirome and Rashon, well what could you say. A crack-head for a mom, no father, and a life moving from one foster home to another. They were screwed already and hadn't even seen their fifth birthday. The two of them were hyper as all get out. Noisy, back talking, couldn't sit still for more than a minute or two.

The doctors shoved all kinds of drugs at them, but it didn't seem to do any good. Melissa got 'brat duty,' as she called it, most days when the minister and his wife were off doing ministering stuff.

I was mostly left alone because I was still in physical therapy from the accident, and had most recently suf- fered among us - that didn't exempt me from the chores, just the brats.

Three months into my new life; I'd just turned fourteen and had pretty much settled into the routine when word came that my brother's kidneys were failing and his time was near.

The Preacher took all of us down to the hospital to say prayers over him and hope for a miracle. We were all in that little room, Minister, his wife, the brats, Melis- sa and I, staring at my brother all tubed up, all bloated with his own fluids, every kind of beeping and pumping machine around him you could imagine.

I hadn't realized then that I caused that crash, (Thank God) because I don't know how I would have reacted to watching him die.

But, I knew I could fog. And, though I hadn't tried to fog anyone since the crash, I figured if I could do it now, I might catch sight of him before he passed on. So I did it.

Reaching into his mind looking for his colors -- or something. There was nothing, just that ugly damp brown emptiness I last saw as I fell into Henry's mind. I vomited right there in the room, as my brother passed away from me.

The funeral was held later that week, the Minister presiding over my brother's last moment above ground. The church, an odd combination of Jewish, Christian and good old 'holy roller' American religious fervor rocked with song and sorrow. Not that these people ever knew my brother, of course. But, I guess, the sight of the dead carried such dread for the religious.

Now, I hadn't grown up in a religious home, so most of this was completely alien to me. But these folks feared death in a way I couldn't imagine, or really under- stand. All but the twins, that is. They were rough- housing in the middle of the aisle, driving Melissa near to tears with their uncontrollable behavior.

Melissa was a big girl - 5'11" to my 5'8" then. She had a huge shock of straight dark red-brown hair which fell below her shoulders. Half black and half Portuguese, she sported big firm full teenage breasts. She was often mistaken for a Latino, and Spanish guys had no hesitation in throwing a little "Aeei mami, Yo quiero esta contigo." at her in hopes of tasting her fruit.

Her thighs were full, and rose to a womanly ass that 'rolled like Jordan' when she walked. She had a style, a way of moving and a body that made grown men turn their head, even though she was barely more than a child of sixteen.

Her personality, given her obvious attributes, was understandably forceful and self-confident. She knew men wanted her and delighted in the attention. With so many men in the neighborhood trying to get in her pants, she had little time for boys her own age, and even less for an insignificant kid like me.

Despite that, she was my protector and I was coming to adore and lust for her - a confusing situation for me. She certainly had the tenacity and presence to deal with most situations, but the twins drove her crazy that day and I sympathized with her predicament.

It was time for me to view my brother's body one last time before they closed the coffin, and I was nervous. I had never seen a real dead person before.

As I reached the casket, Shirome ran out into the aisle and started a temper tantrum. Melissa started after him, and Rashon took the opportunity to run off in the other direction yelling at the top of his voice.

To cover the noise, the choir started a low quiet number. Irritated, I fogged the twins before I even thought about it. Instantly the noise stopped... and the music... and the shuffling, moaning and crying... and everything.

I had fogged the entire church. Shirome stood in the aisle quietly, and Melissa was frozen bent over reach- ing for him. I walked over to the twin and led him back to his seat. I returned and wondered what to do with Melissa. She was still bent over, reaching for where Shirome had been.

I studied her face. Glassy though they were she had beautiful hazel eyes, and perfect full lips, framed by her long hair. Her mouth hung open, and I followed the outline of her cheekbones to the line of her neck and shoulders. Her blouse had fallen forward and the twin cups of her bra, filled with her large breasts, were easily visible to me.

I couldn't resist the opportunity to take a peek in- side. Reaching into her blouse, I gently stroked one globe, marveling at the taut fleshy, heavy feel of it. I undid one button of her blouse and brought my entire hand into it. My fingers found the dense globe and slid along the fullness of the breast until the nipple touched the base between my index and middle fingers.

Gently I massaged the nipple between the base of two fingers and rolled the firm heavy breast in my hand. Along her deep cleavage, a sweaty dampness had formed in the heat of the church and the funeral service's high drama. I ran my hand into her valley, marveling at the wetness and gathered some on the tips of my fingers. Drawing them to my mouth I tasted her salti- ness.

My nervousness got the better of me then. I stood her up and guided her back to her seat, and then found Rashon and placed him between Melissa and Shirome. Finishing, I made my way back to my brother's casket. At the casket, I released the fog and everything returned to normal.

That is, it returned to normal for everyone but Shirome, Rashon and Melissa - who had very confused looks on their faces. And, most of all, for me: I had rediscovered for the second time the powerful potential of fog. That night lying in my bed, I thought about Melissa's breasts, and hatched a plan.

Two days later, Sunday, the Minister and his wife were off to visit members of the church who had been unable to attend that week because of illness or a lapse in observance.

Melissa was left in charge of the brats and I was directed to prepare my clothes for the coming week of school. I watched out my window as they drove off and began to put my plan into operation.

Sitting in my room, I fogged the house and got up my nerve to do this thing. After five or so minutes, courage in hand, I made my way down to the living room where Melissa and the twins were sitting. They had been watching TV. and eating popcorn, the smell of it thick in the air. The twins were sitting on the floor in front of the couch and to one side of Melissa, who was sitting on the couch, legs folded under her and leaning on the sofa arm. Although it was only about 7:00 PM, Melissa and the twins had changed into their PJ's.

I made my way over to her and looked into her eyes. Satisfied she was heavily fogged, I touched her face and ran my fingers through her hair. I leaned down to smell her hair and ran my lips over her face to her mouth.

Drinking in her girl smell, I felt myself hardening and paused to adjust myself in my pants. Still nervous, I moved through the room to make sure all the drapes were closed and the front door was locked. Then I returned to open Melissa's pajama top.

The buttons gave way to my clumsy nervous fumbling and her breasts forced themselves out - pushing the top aside. I stood there in awe of those firm ripe hard female melons. They had a soft firm roundness to them which gave way to dark brown puffy aureole, each topped with a deep brown fat nipple.

I touched them tentatively, fearful I might do some- thing to draw her out of her fogged condition. Then more firmly, testing their springiness, bounciness and mass. They hung out in all their peaked glory at me, swaying slightly as I caressed them and admired their fullness.

I bent forward to taste one, pulling the nipple into my mouth and rolling it around my tongue and biting it softly with my teeth. The sponginess of the nipple in my mouth amazed me. I sat there for more than a half hour suckling at and fondling Melissa's tits.

I remembered the words of the man as he walked out of the park that day, "Boy, you gonna have some fun with this." I was hooked. I knew from then on fogging was for me. After an hour more of playing with Melissa's tits, I began exploring her mind. The blue-blackness of her fogged state was there, as the colors you'd expect.

I probed looking for her yellows, found them and tried to amp them up. But, I wasn't too good at it. Mostly they would rise for a moment and then fall away. As they rose, her breathing quickened, and her nipples hardened and protruded even more than normal.

Her tongue rolled in her mouth as if she were trying to find something in there. Her pajama bottoms showed the tell tale darkening of moisture, so I reached into her lap and slid my fingers across the darkening circle to feel her dampness. Since her legs were folded, I couldn't get very far, and I was too nervous to actually move her so I could.

I bent down and placed my nose in the cleft between her thighs, at the site of her dampness and pulled her smell into my nose. The aroma brought my penis again to hardness and I could feel the drip of dampness forming in my own pants. After a few moments, the yellows sub- sided and her breathing slowed.

Each time the yellows fell, I would reach in and amp them up again. And each time I could get a stronger response out of her. On about the forth try, her breathing picked up a lot and she began to squirm in her seat. She fell back against the couch and produced sharp rapid breaths, heaving her breasts up and down in rapid succession. Her eyes, fluttered and the pupils alternately dilated and constricted. Her mouth opened and a rush of air carried a trilling sound.

I pushed her yellows a little more and she fell forward clutching herself and pawing at her breast, working one nipple between two fingers and breathing in hacking, open breaths.

This time, the yellows blossomed to the top of the blue-blackness of her fog and held there without me amping them up any more.

Her hand began to rub vigorously at her pussy, and she yanked at her nipple pulling it out and pushing it back deep into her breast. She squeezed and pulled on the meaty flesh of the breast, kneading it with rapid forceful hand movements.

I was exhilarated by the performance, but overwhelmed at her response. Not knowing where all this was going, I increased her fog and pushed her back under. I slip- ped away upstairs to my room and jacked off whispering her name. Then I released the fog and went about my work.

About fifteen minutes later, Melissa came running up- stairs and into her room. I waited, sure somehow she would suspect me - why, I don't know. When she left again and went back downstairs, I waited a decent interval and followed her down. She had changed pj's and was again sitting on the end of the couch watching TV.

She didn't appear to notice me entering the room and barely responded to me when I spoke to her. I was wor- ried I had fucked up somewhere. But, she mostly ignored me and watched TV. quietly, deep in thought and con- fused no doubt at the wetness in those pj's and the vague feelings of heat still rolling through her body.

* * * * *

During the next week, I slipped into her room every night as the fogged house slept, and making Melissa perform for me as she did that first night on the couch. Each time, after several hours or so watching her masturbate herself to explosive orgasms six or seven times, I would go back to my own room and jack off furiously until my cock was raw, or I finally fell asleep.

After two weeks or so of this, I greeted my fourteenth year realizing I could do virtually anything to her I wanted. I spent the wee hours fondling and exploring every inch of her body. I would spend several hours with my nose buried in her pussy licking at her thighs as I took in the awesome aroma of her sex.

By the end of the month I stole into her room prepared to commit an outrage. I invaded her warm wet pussy with my fingers, spread her legs and inhaled the raw funk of her asshole. I began slipping my fingers as deep into her proud marvelous ass as I could go, watching the my dirt-stained finger sliding into and out of her ass, as I sucked the flowing pussy juice off her pussy.

As I sucked and inhaled her odor, I began humping my- self into her tits and smooth flat belly. In no time at all, I came full force all over her belly, my ejaculate spurting out between us, turning her slick with my cum.

I slid off her body to examine my deposit, captivated by its sticky smoothness, Sliding my hand across her belly - swabbing my cum into it - I began working it into her flesh, mixing it with the fine line of hair running from her navel to her deep brown bush, sliding it up to fill her navel and trying to spread it upward to her breast. But it wasn't enough, so I stood over her jacking my cock for several minutes until I came again, across her breasts and chest, and slathered that in as well.

It was almost mystical watching my cum mixing with her sweat turning her body into as glistening pillar of brown sugar. I leaned forward and laid my face between her breasts, covering my face with our juices, and rubbing it into my own skin with a slow oscillating wave of my head.

I had to have more - I slid over her, straddling her again and laid full out on her fogged awesome body with my head on her wonderful sticky chest. In that position sucking on her puffy dark nipples and rubbing my cock on her stomach and mons, I continued dry humping myself to orgasm after orgasm. Her body was crusted with I don't know how many of my ejaculations.

When I finally finished I had to give her a bed bath to erase the evidence of my invasion. And so it went, night after night for almost three months. Some nights, I didn't sleep at all, just went the whole night, cum- ming on her and cleaning us up, then cumming on her again. It hadn't occurred to me to actually put my penis in her, but I had realized that I would never have to use my hand on myself again.

As you can imagine, such absolute bliss had to have its consequences. Without knowing it, I was not only fogging Melissa, but altering her emotional state with each encounter.

I didn't know it at the time that a fogger can not only fog, they can "trim" as well. Fogging allows me to sup- press another person's awareness. In a fogged state a person is 'distracted', so to speak and not open to external environmental stimuli. A fogged person would not know, for instance, that her hand was on a hot stove, or that someone had removed her skirt.

Trimming, I discovered later, is the manipulation of that individuals sub-rational emotional processes dur- ing the fogged state. When I manipulated Melissa's colors, I had reformed, at least for a short time, her emotional environment. Amping up her yellows pushed her to masturbate on the couch that first night, but it also generally increased her sexuality for a period of time after. (Maybe even permanently, I don't really know.)

In the weeks that followed Melissa changed a lot. She had begun to complain to me about the ugly plain clothes the Minister and his wife provided for her. She began sneaking out of the house in the morning to school with her own 'special outfits' in her bag and changing in the school lavatory. By the month's end, word had gotten around school and back to me that she had traded with some boy a couple of blowjobs for him to do her homework.

I was aghast and anguished that she was developing a reputation. And more than a little miffed that she was putting out to anybody else. Realizing I could be hav- ing a permanent effect on Melissa's emotional back- ground caused me to alter my activities a little.

I still did her every chance I could, but I was careful to suppress her amped yellows after each encounter. Like a kid paying his parents stereo while they were out, I pushed her as far as I could into an orgiastic moppet, but was always careful to trim her yellows back to normal when I was done using her various body sur- faces for my pleasure.

After about a month of these tweaks, she returned to the quiet but strong-willed girl she had always been, and I again had exclusive use of her tender body. And my ability to fog became more sophisticated.

In the beginning I had assumed I had to fog the entire house to fog Melissa. Now I found I could fog just her, and leave everyone else untouched. And I didn't need to dump it on her either: I learned that fogging could be adjusted in degrees from the merest distraction to a deep state of senselessness. In fact, I had been altering her underlying emotional environment in part because I was stripping so much of her intellect away, and trimming her emotions so near the root.

Her response to me was more thrilling, and far less damaging, when I enveloped her in a light fog and trimmed only near the top of her emotions. In a day- dream state or even lighter state of fog, she was almost 'involved' in the action. Which is to say, she didn't just lay there and let me do her, her responses were very close to what they would have been if she were unfogged and actively fucking me.

I could protest to you about now, that I wasn't just using my abilities to exploit poor Melissa. In fact, I put much of what I learned to use other ways. I found, for instance, that fogging could be used to 'tame' those bratty twins and make them easier for her to babysit.

So, on the one hand, I was using my abilities to ex- ploit Melissa, on the other, I was kind of making life easier for her too. But the reality is mostly I was using them to have my way with her. In particular, I was intrigued by her reported offer to suck a guy off in return for homework.

It opened up a entirely new set of possibilities for me. I began to seriously think about actually fucking her, and all those other things boys said she offered to do, not simply masturbating against her.

I crept into her room one night and after our usual session pulled her up out of bed to stand in front of me. Turning her around as I circled to sit on the bed, I pressed her down to her knees. She was still slick from four or five of my ejaculations, and, to tell you the truth, my desire had been mostly sated by those.

But, I decided to try to see if I could get her to suck my cock, so I pressed her head forward in my lap and pushed my shriveled boy cock into her mouth. Instantly her mouth was alive with activity, and my head was swimming with the hot delicious feeling of total wet envelopment.

I hadn't imagine it could feel this good. I took to scooting my ass to the edge of the bed and rocking her head up and down along my cock in a maddening race to finish in her throat. I came, and kept her head working up and down until I came again. Her cum slicked chest pressed on the bedside, flattening her tits against and dampening the sheet with my cum. I held her like that, throat full open, shoved down on my cock, and I hugged her head as I exploded one last time in her mouth.

I finally pulled my cock out of her throat and watched it flop down onto her tits. I pushed the head between her breasts and began again to shove up and down along her valley. I came, splashing cum all over her neck, and watched as the thick rivulets dripped from her nip- ples onto her thighs under me.

Two nights later, after we had finished dinner and I had performed my chores of washing the dishes and tak- ing out the trash, I just fogged the house in a fit of uncontrollable hyper-sexual pique. Melissa was upstairs taking a bath and preparing for the next day. I crept up the stairs and opened the door to the bathroom, sat on the edge of the tub and watched her mindlessly wash the same arm over and over. (That's the thing about fogging. Whatever a person is doing when you fog them, they just keep doing over and over again, until you stop them.)

Her breasts, so tight and firm they hardly moved as she did, lay half in the soapy water and half out. I reach- ed in to cup them. I grabbed the soap and lathered them up, and used the soapy slickness to fondle and caress them. I slid my hand down her belly and into her pussy, playing with her button and rhythmically shoving my fingers in and out her.

I can't describe to you how much I adored her, she was so fucking perfect, and so fucking mine. I spent a half hour just watching her in that bathroom, and working up my heat in anticipation of fucking the hell out of her later that night. The water was getting cold, so I let myself out of the bathroom and closed the door, went into my room and lifted the fog from the house.

Tonight was the night.

I had decided, to take Melissa's virginity and fuck her for the first time. I wanted to make sure that I had the first turn. If she was going to get hot for other boys, I wanted to make sure I was going to be first.

The excitement and thrill of it all had me jumpy and hyped up as all get out. I hadn't had the nerve to actually fuck her before. Sure I had done just about everything I guy could do to a girl short of that, but it seemed to me that actually putting myself in her pussy was a step that couldn't be taken back.

The anticipation of it was driving me crazy and I couldn't wait for the household to go to sleep for the night. Finally it was 10 pm, the Minister and his wife had been in bed for about forty five minutes. The twins had long since blinked out. I could hear Melissa moving through her room doing whatever in there, but not going to bed.

I waited until the moving stopped and laid a heavy fog on the house, opened my door, slipped down to her room and went inside. The moonlight was shining through one of her windows onto her bed outlining her body as it lay mostly uncovered in the bed. She had on a nightie and panties set. She was lying on her side away from me with one leg drawn up, and the other extended. I moved quietly over to her bedside and sat down beside her.

I sat watching her breasts rise and fall as she slept through the fog. Reaching over, I ran my hand along her thigh to her hip and then to her waist, sliding it down onto her belly, and brought it around to slip under her panties top. I felt the curly pubic hairs atop her mons.

Her pussy lips were very fat, and I traced them as they curved along the crest of her mons and disappeared be- tween her thighs. My fingers urged the lips apart and sought out her button. As I massaged her button, I be- gan to amp up her yellows.

I wanted to be sure she was well pushed into her yellow state before I tried to fuck her. I didn't really know how to take a virgin, but from I had heard - from other boys - it was supposed to be a painful and bloody event. Above all I did not want to hurt Melissa.

As I began to trim up her yellows, Melissa moaned slightly and turned to lay flat on her back. I could feel her pussy begin to moisten under my touch. She drew up first one leg and then the other as her breath quickened under increasing rut.

Now, she arched her back and started to hump into my fingers, holding her ass slightly off the bed and grinding her mons on my fingertips. I knew she was throbbing, but I took a few more minutes to get her to the level of yellow I wanted. By then she had long since abandoned my fingers and was furiously masturbat- ing herself.

Despite the coolness of the night air Melissa's nightie was soaked with her sweat. She had yanked her panties to one side and held them in place as her other hand tunneled fingers deep into her pussy. Her eyes were shut tightly and her face was fixed with a grimace of insane lust.

I climbed into the bed beside her and gently moved her hands aside. She continued humping into the air, and I used the opportunity to remove her soaked panties. I pressed her deeper into her fogged state, getting ready, for the first time in this highly one-sided relationship, to actually invade her pussy with my cock.

Forcing her legs open, I crawled between them, my cock in hand, aiming for her opening. I was so nervous my cock, though hard, was pretty dry. I tried to moisten it by rubbing the head up and down across her cunt, but she responded by lifting up off the bed and before I knew it I was buried to the root in her magnificently hot pussy.

The shock of her sudden lusty thrust onto my cock and it's sudden envelopment into her liquid warmth popped me off almost immediately. The feeling of her hot moist interior walls pressing and massaging my organ was more that I could stand. I came in rushes, feeling my seed filling her insides.

"Wow," I thought to myself, "That was easy."

I pulled off her and watched our juices drip from the head of my cock onto the sheet under us. There was, to my surprise, no blood in it.

Of course, I know now that the many nights I had spent fucking my fingers into her puss had virtually worn away her hymen. Either that or that kid she traded blowjobs for class notes with had gotten to her sweet pussy before me.

In any case, I was free to go on fucking her with gusto, and so I went back to it. Pushing deep into her fogged body and driving my cock into her with the kind of enthusiasm a just blooded teenager brings to the job. I bounced and humped her writhing body faster until during the maddening eruption that followed, I trimmed back Melissa's fog to the mildest level I dared bringing her even more alive in a vicious state of rut.

She began to speak, even cry out for me to fuck her harder. I complied pushing as hard as I could with my hips, trying to slam in her pussy again and again. As I came I did something I had never dared before, I dropped her fog completely for a quick moment and pushed her back under again. I could feel her body stiffen in response, clamping down on my cock and then relax as she slipped away again. It was truly trea- cherous and truly a high.

I loved it. Jeez, I had to have fucked that girl for most of that night, exhilarating in the feel of her warm tight pussy, the fresh feel of it around my cock. It was the climactic point of my months long assault on her body and I spent the night savoring my victory.

It was February again, the anniversary of my catastro- phe. I had been fucking Melissa regularly now for about three months. The learning curve had been a bit steep, but since I was in complete control of the material, I adjusted.

I had taken Melissa's hymen, fucked her mouth and cunt sometimes for hours without stopping, invaded her ass and taken every imaginable liberty with any possible erotic surface and sub-surface of her body I could reach.

Night after night she was bathed, drenched, with my cum - dripping from her eyebrows, in her hair, on her lips, cheeks... and wherever else I cared to deposit my load.

During the day, I might suddenly take her in the bath- room at school or at home and make her suck me off, just to hold me until night time came and I could quickly follow.

I know this sounds stupid, since I was porking the hell out of the poor fogged up child six ways from Sunday, but I loved her. She was, at once, my most precious companion and sister, and, my fuck-toy, and sleazy doped-up cum-bucket.

I couldn't imagine wanting another girl, since any I knew of paled in comparison to her beauty and slender grace. As you might expect, if you give a 13 year old boy uncurbed access to a complex, exquisite, sophis- ticated piece of machinery like the sex organs of a sixteen year old girl, he'll end up fucking everything up.

In early March, I came home from school and found Melissa's room empty and she gone for good. In the days that followed the twins and I were taken from the Minister and his wife and placed in other foster homes.

It turns out that my exuberant exploitation of Melissa's body had led to an unexpected outcome: I had gotten Melissa pregnant.

Child services descended on the house like a horde of locusts, moving swiftly to end what they called a situation of possible child sexual abuse and imminent danger to the children in the home.

They tried to prosecute the Minister and his wife for abuse, but failed when the physical evidence didn't support their charges. That didn't help the Minister though. The intense publicity surrounding the investi- gation ultimately killed him. He passed away in his sleep shortly after her was exonerated.

And it didn't help Melissa. She was still stuck with an unwanted and unexpected baby inside her. And no idea how such a thing had happened. No doubt, Child Services was interrogating her trying to find out who the father was, or pressuring her to abort or give up the child. I couldn't know, since I couldn't talk to her or find out where she was.

Forger's can't read minds, so it wasn't like I could poke into the fucking social workers warped mind to find Melissa. I was beside myself. I had figured out after some consideration that I had killed my family that day coming back from Florida.

Now I had, in effect, killed my new family. Each time the same outcome from my ability to fog.


  • Anonymous said:
    4 years ago
    It turned me on
  • Anonymous said:
    4 years ago
    Loved it this is the second time I've read it there could be more and I like the fogger idea great story
  • Anonymous said:
    4 years ago
    Wow. That was intense. Great story; it had a theme behind it which surprised me. Awesome work.