Chapter 1

 

The power came on me very suddenly!

On the last day of my twenty-fourth year, I was your normal Australian yuppie. Yet when I woke up at age twenty-five, I very quickly discovered that if I sincerely wished for something or someone - anyone - it would happen!

It really was quite weird, the way I discovered it.

I had recently graduated with a triple degree from the University of Queensland, having combined the studies of Law, Business Management and Economics and, thanks to an inherited good brain, had come out of it pretty well. This success had made me a prime target for the head-hunters and I now had a very good job with one of Brisbane's leading stockbrokers and investment advice firms.

I lived at Nerang, a town in the hinterland of the Gold Coast and because my workplace was very near Central Station, went to the city on the train. On that morning - that fateful morning, I took a seat in one of the places that has a pair of double seats facing each other as these fit my tall frame better than the other seats. At the next station, Helensvale, the most beautiful (to me) girl in the world got in and sat down in the seat opposite.

Here, I should explain that my preference in women is rather different from that of most men. I am well aware that my friends admire a highly curvaceous figure with a little padding, large breasts, wasp waist and generous hips and buttocks.

I am very different. I like a fresh face rather than a stunning beauty and I admire an athletic body rather than your usual busty, curvy one. I like her figure to be a little muscular rather than soft. I don't mean the massive muscles of a female body builder. Certainly not! I think they look gross, just like their male counterparts. But I do like to see the faint trace of muscle definition, a flat stomach and well-muscled long legs. I also prefer slim hips and a boyish behind rather than the large melon-type that seems to appeal to other men. My friends laugh at me but I don't mind. As far as I am concerned, beauty is very definitely in the eye of the beholder and I know what I like.

This girl was tall and a blonde, with long, very fine and straight silvery hair, beautiful, violet-blue eyes and a lightly-tanned, golden skin that seemed blemish-free and certainly didn't need make-up.

Her breasts were smallish but perfectly formed and I could see they didn't need a bra to support them. Her waist was slender but not wasp-like and her hips the same. She was wearing jeans but I could see very well that her thighs and calves were well toned and shapely. I knew she had to be an athlete and probably a very good one.

Outwardly, I smiled at her and nodded a greeting as she sat down; inwardly, however, my thoughts were not at all chivalrous towards her: I dreamed of having her strip off for me...

Here I should stop a moment and explain something about me that I'm not particularly proud of. In discussions with my friends, even as far back as the early years at Nerang High School, all they wanted to talk about, at least when it came to girls, was getting into their pants - which girls would allow it and which were prick-teasers, as they called them.

Not me! I wanted them as my slaves. Always, even when far too young to really understand what it was I was dreaming about, I thought about girls being made to strip - or being forcibly denuded - in front of me. Once they were naked, I would rise languidly from my chair, usually a throne or some similar seat of power, step down to the floor and move around her now naked form, eyeing her svelte, athletic body insolently and then finally reaching out to finger it.

In my dreams, I always started with the girl's breasts; but then allowed my hand to rove all over her supple body, usually while she cried or protested at the lewd and indecent treatment I was meting out to her. I never wanted the girl to be a willing participant in my figurative rape of her body. I did (mentally) make love to her but to me that act was always secondary to the stripping and subsequent inspection of her nakedness.

Yes, I had had a number of girlfriends - and no, of course I never mentioned my true feelings to any of them. I did what was expected of me; kissed and cuddled, felt the girl down (or even went further if she encouraged me) but always, when I went to bed that night, I would dream of having her stripped naked for my pleasure. Sometimes, in my dream, I might even have her caned for some imagined offence or, even better, have her lay down across my knees for a spanking.

As time passed, these somewhat ritualized punishments became a permanent part of my fantasies and slowly developed into real tortures rather than simple spankings, floggings or canings. But I stress, I never once went further with any of my dream girls that they didn't actively encourage.

Oh and there was another thing that set me apart from my friends. They always talked about their girls' hairy mounds. I used to shudder, at least inside, for I didn't at all like hair on my dream girls' bodies - or my own for that matter. Indeed, once I had fled the family nest and set up in my own apartment (and could afford the rather steep cost involved), I had my own body depilated from my eyelashes down. I no longer have to shave, which is a great relief for I always hated that chore, and I also had the rest of my body permanently stripped of its natural hair.

I too am an athlete, although because of my height, I could never make even the state titles. I am a gymnast and this sport develops a man's body to what is to me the most pleasing shape possible. Only male ballet dancers come anywhere near us when it comes to strength, grace and control over the muscles of our bodies. I kept up my interest in the sport right through Uni and even today workout in the gym at least twice a week and more if I can spare the time.

So now you have a picture of me and of my likes and dislikes when it comes to women and we can return to the stunning beauty who now sat opposite me in the train.

As I say, while I was the soul of courtesy to her on the surface, as soon as she sat down opposite me, I began my usual reveries about her, dreaming of her being made to strip off her clothes for some inspection or other.

The weird thing was that she did!

At first, as she took off her denim jacket, I thought she was just getting comfortable in the air-conditioned train. Then, as her blouse followed the jacket, leaving her naked from the waist up, she began undoing the buttons of her jeans, slipping them down over her slim hips and folding them and placing them with her other two garments on the empty seat beside her. With a sudden shock, I knew she was going to strip right down to the buff.

She did, too. At that early stage in the train's journey, there were only a few other people in our carriage but even so, they were now all staring at her in a sort of fascinated awe. The odd thing was, none of them, or me either, made a move to stop her. As she quite methodically removed each garment, folding it neatly and placing it on the growing pile on the seat beside her, we all simply allowed her to go on, revealing a body that was even better than I had imagined when she had walked into the carriage.

Her skin was indeed flawless and so were her muscles. Just as I liked them, apparent, but not overdone and as clean-cut as if cut with a knife. She stripped right down, even taking off her panties to reveal a totally hairless groin; though she didn't flaunt her sex, just demurely crossed her legs. She smiled at me just as if she was fully dressed and I was merely a passing fellow traveller, then took up her magazine and began to read it.

By now, I was in a state of panic. Of course I knew I had wished for her to disrobe; but I hadn't really expected it to happen. Though I didn't actually then fully accept that it was I who had caused it, I suppose some parts of my mind must have had some inkling that I was at least connected with her new state of total nudity.

Of course, in this day and age, people are far more likely to look and ogle rather than protest and that is what was happening in the carriage. People were indeed staring but not one of them protested at her nakedness or even got out of their seats to come closer.

My mind naturally reacted to my panic and after a few minutes of staring at her so lovely form, I wished that she was again dressed - whereupon she did - quite naturally and gracefully - although I think to the disappointment of at least the male passengers in the carriage.

She got off the train at Beenleigh but by then, my mind had sort-of come to grips with the fact that I had wished for her to be naked - and she had stripped. I had then wished that she was clothed and she immediately responded. Before she got off the train, I willed her to come to my apartment that evening at seven and mentally passed on my address.

I had no idea then if I had been responsible for her actions but I thought I might as well try it out. In the meantime, though, I was careful not to think any lewd thought about any of the other girls who boarded the train that morning. What I did do was make them do innocuous things such as rubbing their nose or turn the pages of their paper. It worked! It seemed I could wish for someone to do something - and they did it.

I then tried it for distance. Catching sight of a girl through the glass doors leading to the next carriage, I willed her to come into ours. Nothing happened. So it was a somewhat localised power, it seemed.

In the office, I was ultra-careful not to think the thoughts I usually did about my secretary. She was gorgeous - to me. Fresh-faced, clean-cut and a dedicated athlete and I loved to look at her face when she was with me in my office.

I desperately wanted to will her to strip naked, but I fought against the desire. If anyone had come in, there would have been hell to pay! And I still had no idea what memories these women might have of the events.

The girl in the train had sat there quite unselfconsciously as she had read her magazine in the nude - and then after dressing again, had smiled across at me as our eyes caught, so she certainly didn't seem to have any recriminations about what she had done. But it was still very early days. I think I then only half-believed I had been responsible for her undressing but nevertheless, I erred on the side of caution.

I also began to wonder about the nature of this power, if power it was. Could I, for example, use it to obtain money or gifts from people? Could I ask them to do favours for me?

During my lunch hour, I willed a prosperous-looking gentleman to offer me a hundred dollars. He did, without a second glance. I pocketed the note without a qualm. Yes, I was venal. But I didn't repeat that exercise. I might, I thought, use this power to smooth the way for me in future loan applications but I wouldn't actually force them to give me things. I was supremely confident that I was on the road to success without resorting to this power but as well, I wasn't at all sure how long it would last, or even if it was actually happening.

 

That night, right on the dot of seven, she turned up!

It turned out her name was Angela and she worked in a sports store in Beenleigh. She was indeed an athlete and I was thrilled to discover we shared a love of the same sport: gymnastics, so we had a lot in common.

I had anticipated her accepting my wish for her to come and had bought some fillet steaks and then prepared a simple but tasty meal for us. First, though, as soon as I had given her a small glass of white wine, I had suggested, mentally, that she strip off once more. She was now wearing a slightly more dressy outfit but she stripped each item off just as willingly as she had on the train and then sat there, quite naked but also quite unconcerned at her lack of attire, while I saw to the steaks and the salad.

Then, when it was all ready, she moved to the table and sat opposite me as if she was fully dressed. My dining table is one of those glass affairs and so I was able to look down at her so shapely thighs without any encumbrance at all. The odd thing was that she saw my glances and slightly opened her legs so I could see her beautiful sexual organs each time - and always without the slightest embarrassment or concern.

I didn't once mention her nakedness, always keeping the conversation on our shared love of gymnastics and local affairs, but during this time I also experimented by reaching out to her mind to see if I could communicate with her by telepathy. I couldn't. There was nothing there at all. However if I mentally suggested she do something, she was on her feet in an instant, making some excuse as to why she had to do it and then returning to her chair quite normally.

I adored her body and her fine musculature and at one stage I suggested she pose for me. She did and it was an ace performance. I then suggested that she ask me to feel down her body, as if she was a slave under inspection.

She responded right on cue, blushing slightly as she asked: "Carl, I am your slave. Please, will you inspect my body." She then rose from her chair to stand in what I presume is a position a slave would adopt to have his or her body examined: legs apart, hands up behind the head and the elbows pulled right back so that both doubled-over arms were parallel.

What strange words! I hadn't put them into her mind; they were hers; but I got right up, moved over in front of her and did just as she suggested. She stood quite still, making no objection, though she made no effort to encourage me further. She appeared quite neutral during what followed - which of course was me running my fingers and palms all over her so beautiful body.

I decided that I wouldn't mentally suggest we go to bed. I wanted her. Oh how much I wanted her but I forced myself to keep my mind in neutral and see if she showed any overt interest in me.

She didn't. I let my hands and fingers wander over her velvet-smooth skin and so well-toned muscles for long minutes but then muttered something about her being prime slave-flesh at which she did give a small smile and then returned to her seat.

It was a wonderful evening in one sense but it lacked something and after she had gone home (after dressing of course) I analysed my feelings. I knew that what she had done had been because I willed it and she had no option but to obey. I felt she had no feelings for me at all, either for or against - and I didn't want that; at least not then. I was still far too new at this weird power to be able to differentiate my old personality and this new all-powerful one.

That night, as I lay alone in my bed thinking about my birthday (my parents were away in Melbourne but had telephoned and sent cards, etc.) I wondered where this power was going to lead me and how I would use it.

Was it sent from on high for me to shape people at the seat of power for the good of mankind? I couldn't believe that. I wasn't a religious person anyway, but if it had been God-given, why wouldn't He have merely made them obey his wishes?

So what was it and where had it come from? I had no idea, but I knew I was going to use it for myself. Selfish? Of course, but I thought I could probably help my friends as well, along the way.