No one inspired great stories in me though, apart from the gentle wondering. I figured my mind was just too tired from work to grasp on to anyone like...normal.My sleepy mind turned instead to the man I sat by on the plane last week. I’d been weaving a story about him that twisted and turned in my brain from the moment he sat by me. His careful, upper crust accent, his slightly wrinkled business attire, his frequent calls before we even took off, and his preppy looks made it all too easy to. Listen and feel. Stay with me. Concentrate."It doesn't help. "Concentrate slave!" I slap your face. The sudden command and the pain work instantly. Your breathing calms down, your throat opens up."Thank you Sir," you stammer, whispering. Then the sobbing starts again. Long, deep and intense. All the time I hold you, press you against me and let it come out."How does that feel Alexus." I am nothing anymore," you stammer, heavily handicapped by the rope between your teeth. "There is nothing. Suddenly the picture froze and a caption appeared across the screen. M.I.L.F. Mothers I Like to Fuck Mary was startled but continued to watch in silence as the next scene began. The woman was now in an apartment with the two men sitting either side of her. The first man had his hand inside her blouse. His trousers were undone and she was stroking his erect penis. The second man had removed his tee-shirt and was pushing the womans skirt up. He pulled her legs gently apart and then positioned. The moon above them was a perfect half disc, bathing the scene in silver light. The boy was knocked out of his body by pain and partial asphyxiation, his mind gone for the mean time. But Zai though he liked the flavour of this mind. The boy was strong, mentally at least, and had managed to cling on to consciousness when many other were already drooling vegetables. When most humans saw Zai, they painted his faces with whichever of their fears fitted the best. Devil, zombie, rage, stranger,.