Stories Hub / Mind Control / Tristan's Tale Pt. 02

Tristan's Tale Pt. 02

by IncomingPornDuck 04/29/15

This is the continuation of Tristan's Tale, set in the regular world. Much of it won't make sense without having read part one. Sex is heavily featured in this story but is not the primary focus, so if you're looking for something quick, this may not be your best bet. That being said, if you're interested in Tristan and where his adventures will take him, read on...



~


I woke up the next day from the most bizarre fit of dreams, drenched in sweat. I'd thrown off my blanket some time in the night, so that not only was I sweaty but also cold. I tried to remember what had been happening in my dream, and a few blurry images came up - I'd been running, scared, and also a vague sensation of something changing in my brain. As far as what changed, I couldn't remember, but I was sore as hell, and had a massive headache.

I began to sit up, and while I was rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I realized I'd just put my leg in something - it took me a few seconds to realize I'd had a wet dream. Great. At least I was about to shower.

It was seven, and school was at 8:30. I was a senior at the public school of my city, Bridgmont High, and was starting to feel the senioritis creeping into my habits. Normally I'd get up at 6 to give myself more time to prepare but I had been staying up late, fucking around online. Really my entire life has been on a downward track for a while now, ever since my parents passed away a few months ago. Everyone told me it wasn't my fault that they died but, well -

My morning routine is pretty simple - these days I roll out of bed, hit a shower and eat some cereal before walking to the bus. I've been late a lot recently, sometimes on the way to the bus stop I check the time and realize I have to run to get there, but I just, don't. I don't know why, it just doesn't seem worth it, and so I end up listening to music or reading a book while I sit for a half hour until the next one.

In the shower, I finished soaping up and shampooing and turned it cold for a few seconds to close my pores, and also to wake me the fuck up. After drying off, I looked in the mirror, examining myself.

I was surprised by what I saw - everything about me seemed more put together, like my skin belonged to my body for once. Something felt different, something was changed. I chalked it up to feeling off from my dreams, but after a moment, I realized that it wasn't me that was different, it was the way I was seeing myself. I felt confident, and held my own gaze. I smiled, glad to feel relieved from some of the depression that had been plaguing me. I hope this stays.

After the thought, my head tingled a little and I thought I saw my pupils widen in my reflection. Strange. Ignoring it, I decided to shave the scruff I'd let accumulate on my face. I couldn't grow a beard quite yet, really, I just looked like a disorganized kid, which, in all fairness, I was. But, I didn't know how to explain it, I felt like turning over a new leaf. I decided right then and there to turn the year around.

I finished shaving and took a long look at myself. Medium length black hair that looked messy on purpose, a look I'd ended up with because it required minimal effort and it looked alright. I took in my brown eyes, my nose, slightly bent at the end from falling off the playground slide. My lips, my somewhat gaunt cheekbones. A few lost freckles. Was this who I was? This face?

Weird questions to be asking so early. I shook my head, and finished up with my morning. I'd spent too long in the shower, and ended up missing the bus by a few minutes. I wasn't worried, though, my first period teacher was blind as a bat and didn't take attendance, so I could probably sneak in while his back was to the door.

I realized that I hadn't finished my homework for the next class, chemistry, so I got out the worksheet and my notebook and balanced equations until the bus came. I had a few left over but I could do them in class before it was over.

The bus, a canonical yellow school bus, pulled up, and the doors opened. The bus driver, Gus, smiled his usual broad smile in greeting.

"Late again, eh Tristan?"

I shrugged my shoulders in mock despair. "Lord have mercy on my soul, Gus."

He smiled, and closed the doors, turning back to the road. Gus is a great guy, never says too much but is always friendly. Totally different from the 7:30 driver, a real dick named Albert who almost ran over an old woman once. We still tease him for it, which I suppose would explain why he isn't nice with the kids my age.

I didn't recognize anyone on the bus at first until I looked near the back and my heart sunk into my chest - it was Amber, her jet black hair was unmistakable. I walked toward the end, but she didn't look up as I approached. She was listening to music and looking out the window. Feeling bold, I plopped down next to her and she turned in surprise.

"Oh, hey Tristan! How are you?" she asked.

I was more struck by the question than I perhaps ought to have been. How was I? Fuck, I actually felt great! That was new. "You know, I'm actually doing really well right now. Thanks for asking."

She arched an eyebrow, taking out her earbuds. "I'm sorry, did I hear that correctly? Tristan is doing well today?" she said, genuine surprise in her voice.

I grinned. "Hey, now what's so surprising about that? Nothing wrong with being in a good mood is there?"

She rolled her eyes. "Tristan, you're like, literally moping 24/7. You barely ever talk and I don't think I've seen you smile in weeks." She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and stared at me, a question forming on her pursed lips. But it passed, and she smiled. "I don't mean to give you shit for it. I'm glad you're doing well."

"No sweat, Amber. How about you? Joining the late crew today?" I leaned back.

"Yeah, I just barely missed the bus, I swear Albert was looking at me running to catch it in the rear view mirror, grinning his stupid fucking grin."

"Hah! I'll bet." I was glad I'd had the balls to talk to Amber a few months back - we'd both gone in for chemistry help at lunch and I'd struck up a conversation while we waited for the teacher to show up. Since then we talked occasionally, while far from close friends, we said hi in the hallways and I felt comfortable sitting next to her on the bus.

She was by no means short but I was a fairly tall guy, and so sitting next to her afforded me a view of her fabulous chest. She always wore tank tops of different kinds, and unless it was cold out and she had something over them her bust tended to strain against the fabric. They looked ready to burst out, and yet, it didn't come across as slutty because she was so damn pleasant to be around.

What with the magic of bras I wasn't completely sure how big her breasts truly were, but I wagered at least a C cup. I desperately wanted to find out - today, they were pressing up against the cloth of a pale blue top inlaid with an innocuous lace.

She was wearing yoga pants, which was always delightful as they flaunted her curves while she walked - Amber had a particular way of sashaying across the floor that left me speechless and borderline infuriated that what she did and what other girls did were both called walking. She had a reputation for having a big butt and was pretty open about it, opting for acknowledgment rather than embarrassment, which I respected a lot. People get caught up in a lot of stupid shit over appearances in high school, but she didn't bother with it.

I hadn't sat this close to her before, and so I took the chance and glanced down her cleavage when she wasn't looking. It was unfair how beautiful and squeezable her tits looked, and so soft, too, her white skin was flawless and from my vantage point I could see down into her shirt, and the rounded curvature of the sides of her breasts. If only she would pull her shirt down just a little lower...

A few moments passed, a lull in the conversation settled into place and she yawned, looking out the window, and as she did so she adjusted her top down much more than was probably socially acceptable, revealing the top of her black bra and more of her cleavage than I'd ever imagined seeing before. I had to keep from gasping from the sheer casual nature of the action, it was as if her chest just wasn't out in the open for me to see. Wait, hadn't I just asked for her to pull her shirt down? What the fuck?

What a weird coincidence. On a whim, I thought, now squeeze your tits together, and waited. After a few moments, she turned from the window and looked at me.

"What?" she asked, curiosity on her face.

"Hm? I didn't say anything," I replied.

"No, I mean, you had a look on your face. What was that look about?"

"I dunno, I don't know what my face looks like."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, Mr. Mysterious," she said, smiling playfully, and put her earbuds back in. She pulled her shirt up nonchalantly. It must have been just a coincidence in the end. As if it could have been anything else, right? For some reason I always hold on to hope that I'll just, suddenly grow magic powers, but that's just a childish dream I'm stubbornly holding onto. It takes me out of the real world, spending so much time wishing for more than what I already have.

The bus pulled up to school and once inside we said goodbye and went our separate ways down the hallway, and as she walked away I checked out her ass. Fuck, it was just, so incredibly big. Beggint to be squeezed, to be pressed up against me.

I made it to class, the door was open and I poked my head around the corner. The teacher was talking to everyone, something about the test we'd taken the day before. I had the class with Joey, one of my closer friends, and once he noticed me outside he raised his hand and the teacher called on him.

"Mr. Daniels, would you mind writing out what you just said about the question we all got wrong on the board? I'd like to copy it down for my notes."

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