Genie - account part 1

Okay, okay, I'll just start out where I did for Red Moose, the part-Irish, part-Metis-Indian gentleman that I journeyed to, in order to find out what to do with my, um... talent... which will be related to you in mere moments.

I traveled all the way from my home in the middle of nowhere of West Virginia, where I was raised, to northwest Washington-State, where Red Moose has a lot of acreage... in the middle of nowhere.

After I arrived with two suitcases and my traveling companion, a um... carpet... we hiked around on his property. An Indian lady was with him as well, to meet me and confirm what I had claimed. He showed me a plains-style Teepee where he meditates or does some types of ceremony, and then we went into his one-story, wood-frame house. I then related to him what I am going to relate to you.

Okay, okay, we'll stay at this color, I was just having a little fun!

Anyway, first, let me touch on the photo above... That's not quite me... although I like that look! When I submitted this story to this site's operator to correct spelling and to correct a little, but not all, grammar, he asked for a photo. I don't want a photo of me on the Internet, because, once it gets out, it breeds out there like crazy! I asked him "can you paint one?". I gave him my measurements; I am six-feet-two (188 centimeters) tall, weigh 190 to 200 pounds (86 to 91 kilograms), all of it fit, have 17-inch (over 43 centimeters) biceps which are hard to the touch, have golden-brown skin, bluish-green eyes and blond hair. Then I added, "but make my skin blue with crimson-red hair!".

He was enthusiastic about that, and agreed. But he additionally apologized and explained, "I will try to paint your picture as soon as I can, but the gad-dammed making-a-living monster will cause a lot of delay", and then he began the worst, most vile cursing-out of the necessity to make a living that I have ever heard! Gees! What a grouch! Although, he was cheerful with me. First by email, then by phone, he was always cheerful, polite, and usually, articulate. But good grief! Let him loose on the job-world or the fact one has to make a living, and, well, cover your ears, because the "sailor-talk" is a-comin'!

Anyway, after he got over his anger over not having free-time due to making a living, he explained, "I will temporarily have to take some existing pictures, adapt them a little bit, and use them."
I said, "That's okay. And paint the new picture when that nasty old making-a-living gives you a chance".

He adapted some and put them up on a secret Internet page for my eyes only to inspect and approve. Indeed, he had adapted some to give me blue skin. Then I emailed him and asked him to make my ears pointed, like an elf. Then I explained that my ears are indeed a bit odd; they do have a high, somewhat "slenderized" upper ridge; that is to say, my ears are indeed, very slightly pointed. It is a little oddity that my parents noted from the time I was a baby. Then I learned my talent when I was five years old and... the ears took a seat at the back of the "bus of attention" after that. As well, it could be said, my ears fit my talent in a "stereotypical" way... you'll see.

That grabbed his attention and asked if it would be possible for me to come to see him, on his land, which, by the way, is also in West Virginia. He assured me there is nothing for me to worry about. He told me he is only six feet even at 150 pounds, and has 13 and a half inch biceps, so I would be stronger than him. Hmm, I'm currently thinking about it. But one thing is, at the time of the writing of this story (approximately November of 2006), he does not have much on his land yet and is not primarily living there at the time.

Well, anyway, anyway... So, he came up with some pictures adapted from existing ones. I liked the one with the blue skin, scarlet, red hair and spooky, greenish background, so I asked him to make a head-and-shoulders-shot of that. And that is the one above.

Okay, a 50-cent-tour...

These are nice. On one, he made my hair black. Hmm, cool!
I also like how the hair is cut back away from her face. I think I'll do that. I have a well-formed jaw-line, "solid-looking" neck, and of course, distinctive ears. The way the hair is in these pictures would show all that stuff off nicely.

The other picture, to the right, shows my golden-brown skin and blond hair the way it more or less looks. I really do wear my hair stacked high like that, with buns, and with that long tail, because it makes me look something like a real genie... of the lamp, that is. And it makes me look even taller. You might be thinking, "She's already six-foot-two, why would she want to look taller?" Because I like it!!!" I love being tall! Additionally, I usually wear three-inch stiletto heels. I'd wear four-inchers if my feet could take it and I wouldn't stumble in them. I do wear them, however, every-so-often.

Well, these pictures are nice, but not muscular enough. I'm more muscular than that, although, in these shots, only a little of the body can be seen. She looks pretty fit, though.

Whoa! Hold on there! That's a little too muscular. I love her hair and ears though! But I want the hair crimson red. I'm thinking of coloring my real hair red, but ain't mustered the courage to do it, yet.

I dress that skimpy, too. I usually wear some kind of tight-fitting, "quarter-length" (leaves a lot of tummy showing) tank-top and micro-skirts... with no underwear! And of course, stiletto heels. Like the hefty gal to the left, I wear a lot of jingling bracelets and stuff. I have painted my nails just about every color in the rainbow... once, at the same time!

Ah! I like these! Weird and spooky looking, sort of.

I also asked the operator of this site, to, if possible, make a little picture of me that shows up in the URL window. I told him use the one with blue face and rose background.

He told me he can't do it for Internet Explorer, but it will show up in newer versions of Fire Fox and Netscape. I said okay, whatever. So, if you are using Fire Fox or Netscape, note that in the URL window, you should be able to see a tiny picture of me.

I also like this picture to the left, and the one to the above-right, with that bone-white hair! That's a little creepy; what I like! Maybe I'll color my hair stark white... no, green... iridescent-blue... Oh, I'll have to think about it!

Okay, alrighty! Let's get on with the account...

Hmm, I wonder if it's possible to color one's skin light blue, like in those pics...

OH, oh, the story... right!
Okay...

Okay, I made a journey to see Red Moose, and told him my life's history, so here goes:

My whole life has been weird to extremely weird.
First thing that happened after I was born, is... and I'm going on what my parents told me... is that they noticed something slightly wrong with my ears. They seemed to be slightly... extended; pointed, that is, just slightly. They said the Doctor examined it carefully. Both ears were the same way and exact, so it was not an accident or birth defect of one ear. Of course, in my opinion, it could be a birth defect in both ears.

Now, let me jump ahead by a few years, past the time of the discovery of my "talent". I was in school, second grade, and they gave us all a hearing test. In those days, I wore my hair so that it covered my ears. Later, as I got more bitchy, I let them show; in fact, I emphasized them by purposely cutting and arranging my hair away from my ears. Don't like 'em, fuck it!

Well, let's see... Oh! Okay, so they gave us all a hearing test.
They instructed us to hold a button down until we could no longer hear the sound. Okay, I did so. The sound grew dimmer and dimmer, until it reached a point where it "settled"; it stayed at the same level. So I just kept holding the button down. When the sound suddenly stopped, I let the button up, as instructed. Most of the middle frequencies were like that. Only the very highest frequencies faded from my hearing before they "bottomed out" in volume.

As all the other kids filed out of the testing chamber upon completion of the test, the officer or whomever called me to the side to test me again. He instructed me carefully to let go of the button when the sound fades from hearing. So, I was tested again, and at a different testing-seat. Same result. Many of the sounds faded in intensity alright, but never became completely inaudible. Then they tested me a third time with the officer next to me, and at yet another testing seat. Same thing. Finally they were convinced that I was doing the test right, and that possibly, I was part bat.

Indeed, I hike a lot in the West Virginia wilderness that surrounds my home; I have done so my whole life. I Also ride a mountain bicycle, sometimes. I have always been able to discern much with my hearing. I did not realize how much until I hiked with others. It soon became apparent, that compared to other folks, I was hearing a lot more than anyone.

So... it looks like, my ears are NOT a deformity, but some kind of genetic throwback to some kind of animal, lord knows what! Although I love walks in the light of the full moon, I have not, so far, and as far as I know, "turned into" anything!

Okay, the talent...

I was always a quiet child, so said my parents, never demanding anything and almost never crying. That's why when the "carpet thing" broke out, my behavior at that time stood out like a pounding, red, sore thumb.

This happened after I was five years old...
One spring, maybe April-ish, I watched a cartoon about Aladdin, a lamp with a genie and a flying carpet. It was not "Disney's Aladdin"; this was before that ever came out. It was some obscure cartoon show. It was on VHS tape. I remember being very fascinated with such a simple thing like a rug, being able to fly. I remember scrambling around, climbing over this and that, finding an old place-rug, and putting it in front of the television so that I could sit on it. I would sometimes pretend to fly...

Oh! Let me tell you of where my t.v. was, and why. It was located in a screened-in porch in back of our simple West Virginia house, with a view of the wilderness, mountain meadows and forests readily available. My parents had me watch television there so that I would constantly be reminded of the inviting outdoors, without them always saying, "go out and play, get fresh air", "go out and play, get fresh air" and like that. It did work! I often became bored with the t.v. and went out.

And I saw much; I saw deer, bob-cats, foxes, many rabbits, possums, millions of squirrels, gazillions of birds, and, and, all kinds of things! One reason we had so many animals visit is, we did not have a pack of hyper dogs getting all bent out of shape every dam time anything happened. Most people living in the country wonder why they never see any wildlife. Well, one experience of coming down the usual person's driveway to be greeted by a bunch of maniacal, teeth-bearing, growling monsters explains the most likely reason! Sheesh! We never had dogs; my Father doesn't like them, my Mother is neutral, and I don't like them.

Boy, can I ever hear; and remember, I can hear really well; can I ever hear many readers going, "What's the matter with you?
Well, I answer that with another question; What's the matter with you!? Without dogs, we have had peace, tranquility and harmony. Wow, I'll bet the dog-lover-readers are leaving us about now. Oh well. Anyway, I am thankful that I had the opportunity to grow up in an environment of interaction with the real animals. Okay, okay, enough preaching.

Anyway, so, let's see... Oh! So, I went outside a lot. I began dragging my old rug with me to sit in the green grass and pretend to fly.

Okay, some weeks later, maybe a month or so, my parents were strolling about an import store, just for interest. And I saw a rug, a carpet, that I just about fell in love with! I don't know what happened to me! It turns out that it was a classical Persian style carpet.

Well, needless to say, that thing cost a pretty penny, zillions of them! Well I bawled, carried on, threw tantrums and all kinds of crappy behavior, completely throwing my parents off guard. They had never seen me like that before. Not for any toy, any doll, any ice-cream, candy, whatever.

Even after coming home that day, I could not get over it. I carried on like some kind of pint-sized super-bitch.

Thanks to my parents' adoring love for me, they, particularly my Father, went through considerable effort to acquire the carpet. My Father had repaired the import-store's owner's television one time, and he reduced the price of the carpet to his cost. My Father finally brought it home.

Boy! Was I ever elated, happy, glee, and every other word in the dictionary you can throw at it! And, thank goodness, thus ended the one and only episode of ugly behavior I ever manifested.

Well, so I had my carpet. She was really lovely! She replaced the ragged old rug I had been sitting on. I called her Jasmine. Jasmine the Persian carpet was about six feet wide by eight feet long.

I had lost the tape a while, but I finally found my obscure cartoon about Aladdin, the lamp and the flying carpet. I watched it again for kicks, with my wonderful carpet beneath me. I would pretend to fly.
By this time, it may have been late summer.

I watched that same cartoon twice. On a late, perhaps August, summer-day's evening, I watched it a third time. It was blustery outside, as an early cool-front was coming. The cool, dry air was invigorating after a summer of heat and humidity. The sky was wild with ragged, dark clouds. I love that kind of weather.

Having watched that cartoon a number of times previously, my attention was not a-hundred percent fixed on it. My attention kept being drawn to the waves of green coursing through the grass, the leaves blowing about and the swaying trees. A nice breeze spilled through the screens and swirled about the porch.

Noticing that Aladdin was in one of his carpet-flying-scenes, I sat upon Jasmine the carpet myself, closed my eyes and imagined lifting, lifting, gently wafting, maybe just a foot or so in the air...

I opened my eyes due to the fact, my sharp ears picked up a change in the quality of the audio coming from the television; as if it was moving; well, I had moved!

Much to my surprise and delight, I was hovering two feet off the ground!

"WOW!" I muttered to myself, as I reveled in this newly discovered activity!

Then I began to sort of wonder, how do I control this activity!? I quickly noticed, Jasmine the carpet would waft in the direction I looked, especially intently, upon. Later, I found that "willing", or sort of... hard to explain... shifting-- internally, that is, in the direction I wanted to go, would make her go-- in that direction.

I wanted to float over the little table we sometimes ate at if we had a dinner or something on the porch. Indeed! There I went! I hovered, two feet over the table. I "willed" higher. I went higher. In fact, I even lightly bonked my head on the ceiling! I willed a bit lower. Whoee! That was so thrilling! I was giggling, clapping my hands...
You have to use your imagination to be a fly on the wall seeing this. Imagine a five-year-old girl, sitting on a Persian carpet, floating around within the confines of a screened-in-porch, squealing and clapping her hands in delight.
Fortunately, the porch was simply furnished. The t.v. in one corner, that table and its chairs, and maybe a couple folded up yard-chairs was all there was. There wasn't anything to knock over. The corners of Jasmine would gently nudge the walls or screens of the porch sometimes. But, there was one obstacle...
When one begins to fly, be it by natural wings, aircraft, balloon... or carpet... there are things up there, normally safely ignored by beings on the ground, that become potential hazards. Well...

"BONG!", went my head on the ceiling light, and quite hard, too. It hit me while I turned my head around, looking, looking, looking, so that it hit me more or less on the right-side of my forehead, almost to the temple. That dislodged the glass shade on the light. It fell, bounced off my shoulder, rolled across Jasmine the carpet, then dropped to the floor where it shattered.

The bong on my head made me yelp, cry just a bit, and then whimper some as I rubbed the hurt from my forehead. Disoriented a bit, Jasmine wafted across the porch back to the corner where the t.v. was, and bumped against the corner over the television. I willed Jasmine back a bit, and down, so that I would settle on the floor in front of the television. Well, my piloting skills not yet developed, I impinged the rabbit-ear antenna on the t.v., causing it to fall, the way they fall; you know how that is, a very clumsy, ugly, noisy fall.

Well, I had just settled Jasmine down to the floor, while I still rubbed my head. One corner of Jasmine was turned upward due to having pinned the fallen rabbit-ear antenna beneath her.

Right at that moment, my Father came in, concerned for my safety. He had heard some of the ruckus. The sound of breaking glass, my yelp, the raucous sound of the rabbit-ear antenna falling brought him in to check on me.

Chuckling, he asked, "What happened, ya little squirt!?". He used to call me squirt.
I answered, "I hit my head on that light up there", I answered in a matter-of-fact manner. "It hurts" I added.

I remember Dad looking puzzled, as he mumbled, "On that light up there?... How's your head?"

He examined my bump. There was no blood, but he could see a spot where apparently, something had indeed hit there.
"Are... are you sure it was the light? How could you have hit it, way up there?"

How indeed. Though tall for my age, I was still a five-year-old munchkin. There was no way on Earth a shorty like that could have reached, let alone hit, the light fixture way up there, some nine feet over the floor.

Not knowing that it was supposed to be "impossible" to fly on a carpet... Well gees, the t.v. showed someone doin' it; it follows I could do it... that's the traditional way human kids used to learn, by watching! So, not knowing it was supposed to be impossible to fly on a carpet, I simply explained to Dad, "I floated up on Jasmine and hit my head on the light up there. The glass thing broke; I'm sorry..."

I could have so EASILY LIED! I would have, now-a-days. But, I didn't lie; I just told Dad what happened, "I up-up on Jasmine and I went up. It's fun! But I bumped my head on that light"...

There was no way my befuddled Dad could deny the evidence. I told him I floated up there on the carpet, hit my head, knocked off the glass and it fell to the floor and broke. There was the evidence, right there. And, somehow, the rabbit-ear antenna ended up pinned under my carpet. "How'd that happen?", surely was my Father's thoughts.
Well, no better way to tell him than with a demonstration; which he asked for...

"Can... can you...", my Father stuttered, "Can you do it, now?"
"You mean, go up?" I asked.
"Uh... yeah... go up..."

First, I pulled the rabbit-ear antenna from under the corner of Jasmine, while I said, "This makes her uncomfortable".
My Father helped me pull the antenna out and placed it on the television. At that, I was ready.
"Okay", my Father mumbled, by this point, seemingly mesmerized, "Let's see... what you can do..."

He stood up, stepped back and watched.

And, I did it. I can't explain... It's hard for me to describe, how the dickens I get Jasmine to fly... it's some kind of... special concentration; I "up" my thinking... nah, that ain't it, let's see... I... want up; nah, that ain't it either. Um... uh... Gees, I don't know how to tell you how I do it. Let's just say, from here on, I just will it, and Jasmine responds. Any carpet? Or just Jasmine? Later I found out, only Jasmine. So, it ain't all in me... yet, part of it is. More on that later.
For that moment, I had a spell-bound Dad to demonstrate my new-found skill to.

So, I "up-uped", willed upward, and slowly, gently and without any sound, Jasmine stiffened, and then she and I floated up.

A whole cat could have gone into my Father's hanging-open mouth with ease! His jaw was on the floor! His eyes bugged out like a dyin' calf.
"WHOOO! This is fantastic!" he finally exclaimed.

I floated about, came close to the ceiling, lowered a bit, floated to the other end of the screened-in porch, over the table, and back again. I then wafted gently back down in front of the television.
Like, wow! Wow! WOW! Of course, it was not long before I was showing an equally spell-bound Mom!

THANK GOODNESS that my parents were not of any religion. They were "spiritualists", and as well, nonconformists. After I was old enough to understand deeper things, my parents told me, that they had discussions with each other as to the power of the human spirit, the possibility of the soul or energy-body, to manifest phenomena on the physical plane. And, although they claim no membership with any religion, they do point out where, in the Bible, there is a place where Jesus more or less says that, if you have faith only the size of a mustard-seed, you could move mountains.
So maybe, a teensy bit of microscopic faith could waft a girl and her carpet upward.

After all, never had anybody out and out told me, "you can't fly on a carpet". And, I watched a demonstration of somebody doing it. So, I guess I figured I could do it.

But... like I said, it ain't quite that easy... even I can't fly any carpet. But, more on that later.

Anyway, thank goodness my parents weren't religious fanatics, or even, stodgy scientist types that never want to hear anything new or challenging, otherwise, they would have quite surely, strictly prohibited me from ever doing anything like that again. Religious fanatics would think it's the devil (everything and anything different, to them, is the devil) and a closed-minded scientist may have taken the carpet away and forbade use of it. Even most "general purpose" folks would have somehow, perhaps unknowingly, stifled such a talent. All the time, I hear about psychic kids being forbidden or highly discouraged against using their abilities.

But there I was, in that healthful, natural environment, free of the usual restrictions, distractions and negativity of the usual modern-day, military-industrial-complex-driven lifestyle. My parents, with their solid awareness of true spirit and the energy substrate of the physical world, found typical neighborhoods and lifestyle too confining for their thought process. They had to live in the wilderness. Thank the Creator they did! With minimal television, which is the source of a lot of "can'ts", open-minded, creative parents, and that healthful environment full of natural, high-frequency energies provided by the forest and meadow, and with none of the dampening fields against such energies that come from most humans and some dogs, my soul, the energy part of me, was provided ample force and freedom of thought, that made the evolvement of my talent possible.

Now, even though I go out into the world, my talent is well established, so the negativities of the world do not effect me or my ability to fly the carpet. Not to mention, I am such a bitch, I think the negative energies merely run off. They cant' stand me. I live to this day, on the same acreage as my parents. I have built a tiny house separate from theirs a small ways, so I can always return to the recharging energies of the wilderness.

Okay... now... I understand this story is being placed on a sort of mildly adult type of site, MuscleWomen.com and... perhaps y'all are looking for sex and stuff...
But then, the owner of this site told me, that the stories he has on here are more than just smooching, humping and huffing. The stories are thought-provoking, have unusual background situations, often explore a bit into the spiritual, generally have something of a plot, often resemble accounts, like diaries, and are often, lengthy. I don't want this story to be lengthy, but it might.
Well, anywho and anyway, y'all just gotta bear with me during these early years.

That grouchy grumposaurus, the sysop or owner of this site, told me to, under no circumstance, relate any kind of sexual stuff that I may have gotten into before I was eighteen. When he told me that on the phone, he was, as usual, cheerful with me (in fact, I think I could get the ol' boy to worship me; gees!). But he, once again, launched into another one of his patented, vile tirades against society. Good Lord have mercy, my poor, sensitive ears! He used every vile word he could think of against the Internet rules of today, society's paranoia about kids on the Internet, society's paranoia about kids in general, and bitterly complained that most of it all started after "9-11" (the attack in New York on September 11, 2001). Then he cursed "9-11", cursed society's behavior after "9-11", and cursed "a return to a 1940s war mentality". He lamented bitterly about the absence of peace symbols and-- gees! He went on and on, bending my exquisite elf-like ears. Gees! What a grouch!

One would think the operator of an adult site would be an easy going fellow... well, he is in many ways, but, man! Get him going on Internet conditions, "9-11", and the necessity to make a living, and you better batten down the hatches for a brawny storm of curse words!

So, let me as quickly as possible, go through the first 18 years of my life with my carpet-flying talent, and then, I get into my cross-country trip by flying carpet, that I took to see Red Moose. There's a lot of sex there. Okay? Alright!

To be truthful about it, I was gettin' into sexual stuff as soon as I was fifteen, but, as promised, not a word about any such activity occurring before I was eighteen.

Okay, now.
After discovering I could fly the carpet, I had school, first grade, coming up in a few weeks. During the remaining time, my Father and Mother took me outside to test my ability, and maybe their abilities, with Jasmine, my flying carpet. And, they explained to me later, that they wished to so firmly establish my ability, that no amount of negativity and "can'tism" from school would dampen it. One thing though, as the number of days before school became few, they repeatedly instructed me not to speak of it to anyone at school.

My parents explained to me later, that they were trying to strike a balance of solidifying my ability, and most assuredly making me proud of it, yet, not blabbing it around because, most kids would not understand...
You see, the thing is, at that time, I assumed any kid could fly... and maybe parents too, although they seem to prefer to drive cars. So my parents had to reaffirm my belief in myself and my talent, but inform me that most kids can't do it, while being careful to not let me think of myself as weird (although I know dam well now, that I am! And proud of it!). And finally, they had to make sure I would not be a shock to the other kids.

Alright, I will now present the section about "spreading my wings" if you will. This is the discovering of what the carpet can and can not do, and maybe, why. (Lots of luck! Fat chance!) And I would just generally improve and refine the talent. I'm gonna entitle this next section "Experiments With The Talent"
Okay, title thingy, do your stuff!...

Experiments With The Talent

All right! Great job!


Another look at me, this time with the bone-white hair...
just to remind you of who you're dealing with...
...uh, except for the blue skin... and I'm sort of researching that!

Okay, early experimentation:

Those couple of weeks before first grade saw my parents completely absorbed into my talent. My Father even took two weeks off from his electronics job, some of it unpaid, to attend me.

We did our... like, I guess you could call it, "flight training", outside, in the green grass.

My parents kept a neat little yard, about the same size as a small yard in a neighborhood. Outside of that, nature prevailed. Past the chain-link fence, which had a small gate, was a trail squeezing between trees to a mountain meadow back there, and, well, lots and lots of forest, hills, mountains... as I said, we lived in the middle of nowhere, THANK YOU, CREATOR!!!
I can not over-emphasize, how lucky I was, and still am, to live in that kind of environment. I visit folks who live in neighborhoods, and, well, it's like what "they" say, "nice (or interesting) place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there!". In fact, I fairly gloat about the fact, that I don't live in a neighborhood.

And as well, I think you can see the definite advantages, in this particular, most unusual case, the advantages of not having neighbors...

Jasmine the carpet was not light, but I insisted on carrying her myself. I would roll her up, and struggle mightily to carry her out the screen-door of the porch to the yard. I rolled her out onto the grass.

My ability to carry Jasmine surprised my Dad and impressed my Mom. Already, at five years old, I was growing taller and stronger than usual.

The cool front had established itself and was now cool and dry, with cobalt-blue skies overhead. Oh! It was nice!

With both Mom and Dad in attendance, I did my thing...
Gently, silently, I... hmm... just can't put it into words... I "up-uped", and there I was, hovering, two, maybe three feet off the ground.

Of course, being an inquisitive, adventuresome child, I decided to go higher... and higher and higher. I was over my frightened parents' heads.

"Uh, maybe you better come back down a bit", cautioned my Father.

GOSH DANG that was FUN!
With them following, I maintained about five to six feet off the ground and circumnavigated the house. They had to break into a jog. Maybe I was doing about five miles per hour.

After some time puttering around in the yard, I suddenly decided to move over the back fence towards the trail.
Easily topping the five-foot high fence, I just peacefully wafted over the fence and so was now over a summer's growth of meadow grass and weeds. Of course, my parents had to scramble over to the gate... well, my Father did... my Mother leapt the fence; yeah, she was fit and athletic. She was and is as tall as Dad, just as strong or stronger, and a bit wild, definitely a nonconformist. My Dad was and is slender, fit, athletic, tamer than Mom, but still, a nonconformist. Neither one of them could stand the confining, conforming nature of a neighborhood... nor could I.

"Get back to the yard right now, young lady!" my Mom ordered, as she sludged her way through the tall weeds and grass, and stumbled over a dry set of fallen branches. I just peacefully, tranquilly wafted over them...

Man! I'm tellin' ya! This story will give your imagination a workout, that's for sure. Just sit back a minute, close your eyes, and imagine a five-year-old girl, floatin' about mysteriously on a carpet, with her parents frantically seeing to it she doesn't just fly off. I could have easily done so!

So, upon hearing my Mom's stern command, I willed... or whatever, Jasmine the carpet back toward the house. I slowly rotated around, and then like a bubble in the breeze; although I was not subject to the breeze, but, like a bubble in the breeze, I wafted over the tall, rough weeds, over the fence, and then over the mowed grass of our yard. Then, I willed Jasmine down.
About the wind; Jasmine does not seem effected by ordinary, or even, gale-force winds. Whatever's makin' her go... does not seem to be wind-based.

My parents attended more yard-confined maneuvers. Bored with just drifting about five feet off the ground, and having been ordered to not cross the fence, I suddenly decided, up over the house! Which I did. I willed Jasmine up, and I drifted over the roof of our house, and then settled back down in the... more or less front-yard... the side the driveway and big gate is, anyway. With no visible streets around, and certainly no other houses, there was no other determination of what was "front" or "back". Anywho, the driveway-side of the house, the front, faced east, and the back of the house, that was west. (I've heard Chinese like that.) In our part of West Virginia; sort of east-north-east of Beckley, sorta closer to Flatwoods (where, I understand, a mechanical monster was once seen), and west of state road 19, when one stands in our back-yard, one's back towards the house, he or she is facing west, and looking towards Kentucky. Front yard faces the direction of Virginia. Washington D.C. is some 250 miles on a bearing of about... something like 80 degrees (east-east-east-north)... I have a tendency, after years of flying, to speak in navigational terms.

So... let's see, where was I... Oh! So, I flew over the house and came down over to the front yard. My Dad ran around the house on its north-end, my Mom on its south-end; like a pincer-maneuver. Frantic, my Mom ordered, "Don't do that! It's too high! You could fall!", and stuff like that. "Yeah", my Dad agreed, "You got to take it easy on that thing!"

That night, after supper, my parents sat down with me and laid out some rules. They were few and simple:
DON'T FLY AWAY!!!
...And don't go beyond the fence unless escorted, and do not fly higher than people's heads.

We hiked often. The next day, sure enough, we went on a hike.
My parents loved hiking, but I had been a burden before. When very tiny, they had to carry me papoose-like. Later, I walked, but slowly, and had limited range. They often had to carry me. At five, due to my accelerated height and strength, I was almost to the point where I could keep up with them. But they liked long hikes. I grew tired quickly, because I was always running ahead. I would run back and forth wildly, then later, was spent and ready to sleep.

Now, with Jasmine the carpet, I just wafted along with them. But... that soon became boring. I bubbled with energy. I wanted down on my feet, running wildly. But, that left Jasmine behind as we continued to hike, something that disquieted me.

Kindly, my Father rigged a back-thingy to carry Jasmine. He would carry her a while, then my Mom would. When I got tired, we unloaded and unrolled Jasmine, and I rode her. Then, a strange new ability was noted, and it was a most disturbing, frightening-to-my-parents one...

On a stretch of straight, level trail, I wafting just ahead of them on Jasmine. I had ran myself out. As I sat upon Jasmine, I became very drowsy. Then, I just laid down upon her, just like back home, in the screened-in porch, when I would fall asleep on her there. Jasmine continued to waft, in the direction she had been going, while I slept. Hmm... Now this opens even more questions... and we haven't even begun to acquire any answers.

Apparently... for lack of other terms, Jasmine was on some kind of... autopilot. While I slept, Jasmine just continued on her heading. There was just one problem... What happens when the trail goes down, up, or left or right? Well, that's just what happened.

My parents were gabbing away about stuff, and calm about me, so, they didn't notice at first, I was getting higher. Actually, I, sleeping on Jasmine, was going straight. My parents were going lower! This is West Virginia, you know, not known for stretches of level or straight roads or trails. Simply, as the trail descended, they were getting lower.

I was completely asleep, in a deep slumber brought on by having run myself tired, peaceful, soothing energy and conditions, warm sun shining upon me, and a gentle wafting. So the following is what my parents related to me:

My parents suddenly realized, I was eight feet high, and beginning to leave the trail. The trail was descending, and bearing to the right. So I was leaving the trail to the left side, and going straight over ground that was going down.

They called out to me, ordering me back. They yelled several times. But no response. I, laying upon Jasmine, just continued a leisurely waft in the direction last willed, straight, and level. Speed, maybe all of three miles per hour. But by this time, I was ten feet over my parents' head, or, sixteen feet off the ground.

Frantic, my parents scrambled and stumbled over fallen trees, thick brush, thorny blackberry bushes (which do produce juicy, delicious blackberries), and everything else while they tried to follow me. But to no avail. By this time, I was thirty feet off the ground.
Then my Father said that he noticed something...
Having hiked back here many times before, the knew the lay of the land and the trails. He noted a trail, way across the hollow, that we had hiked several times. He knew that the trail we were on, would wind around and then come to a fork. Take the left trail, follow it, and it would end up right where it looked like to my parents, that I, on Jasmine, would end up. Since Jasmine was merely wafting straight, my parents estimated she would just encounter the side of the hill over there, and block her. Besides, if they ran really hard, they might just beat me there.

There was no choice. I was not responding to calls, and the ground, if they followed straight, would not only get way lower, but rough, with cliffs, rock-strewn places, and thick woods.

My parents surged back to the trail and ran like the deer. Indeed, after much winding around, they arrived to the fork and took the left trail. They said they each prayed to The Creator that I would sleep still, on Jasmine (that is, not roll off and fall; they say, when one prays, do not use "don'ts", or else, that is what your mind visualizes and that is what gets out. So, they prayed "sleep still", so that their minds would visualize and project, me sleeping motionless upon Jasmine).

Well, sure enough, they arrived, huffing and puffing like locomotives, to the part of the trail I was headed toward just before I got there. And indeed, there I came, still just leisurely wafting, all of about three miles per hour, almost directly towards them.

So, visualize: My parents stood on the trail. Look to the left, you look across the hollow, and there I came, just a hundred feet away. Look to the right, and you see the sloping-up ground, with small trees, bushes and grass.

As I arrived, I was over their heads about ten feet. As I wafted along, my parents climbed the hill after me. And, sure enough, Jasmine encountered the hill. The hill blocked her path. Jasmine merely impinged bushes with the attending crackling and brushing sounds, and ground to a stop. The rustling-bushes-sound finally woke me.
I awoke, rubbed my eyes, and looked around, disoriented a few seconds.

"You little chuckle-head!", my Father exclaimed, "You fell asleep at the controls!"
"You MUST stay awake, young lady!", my Mother exclaimed.

"How'd I get here?", I innocently asked.
"Well, ya fell asleep! You flew all the way across the hollow!", my Father replied.

Well, my parents, my Mother especially, wanted to take me in her arms. But it was difficult. They were blocked by thorny blackberry bushes. Getting Jasmine the carpet out of there would be like a wrestling match. I said, "I'll fly to the trail... where is it?"

My Mom still wanted to pick me up herself, but my Dad agreed with my plan. It would be, after all, far easier. Dad pointed out the trail. There was nothing to it. I willed Jasmine up, over the bushes, and wafted down nicely upon the trail.

"I don't think you should fly this for a while, young lady!", my Mother ordered.

That was fine with me. My nap had recharged my batteries. I was ready to run wildly again. I rolled Jasmine up and Mom took Jasmine on her back.

That evening, one more rule was established:
DON'T FALL ASLEEP WHILE RIDING JASMINE!!!

Anyway, by now, I think you readers are getting what a handful Jasmine the carpet and I were to my parents. Good grief! It's a wonder they didn't both have heart attacks. Only their fit physiques pulled them through.

Well, okay. That was the initial stuff. And the first adventure. There would be many more...

Are any of you readers parents? Of course, old grumpy grumposaurus-rex the sysop has that warning against "soccer moms" entering this site; for one thing, I think that's a kind of 1990s term. I think it is possible for a parent to be level-headed; to use a mild adult site and keep the kids away. This site is equipped with a thingy that enables parents to block their kids from it.

Anywho, if you are a parent who made it through all those bellicose warnings, then imagine this stuff above going on with your child. It would drive you crazy! It's bad enough when a teenager first starts driving on their own. But at least you're dealing with someone who is physically mature enough to not get lost, and have basic navigating skills. And you could always take the keys away. But a child, a small one, with carpet that could whisk her away on a whim? Whooeee! Pass the Valium, pelease!

I think my parents considered putting a leash on me. With Jasmine the carpet, I could be gone so fast, that they would never be able to catch up.
Now, I knew I was not going to ever leave them. But, due to my propensity for adventure, my parents perhaps feared me just getting lost. Anyway, they put keyed locks on the doors of the screened-in porch and front door. The doors could not be opened without a key, even from the inside. What? You don't trust me?

Later, finding that inconvenient, especially since I was always wanting to go out; not with Jasmine but just myself, into the yard to frolic around and swing on the swing-set, my parents began locking Jasmine into a closet during times they would not be able to watch me constantly, like sleep, study, one parent out, whatever.

I experimented with other rugs; nothing. Whatever my talent is, for some reason, it is tied up with that one particular carpet, Jasmine. Yet...
Other people could not ride her.

A few days of riding Jasmine later, Dad suddenly thought, "Could I fly her?" And Mom, for that matter?
Neither one of my parents could ride Jasmine. They sat upon her, outside, and willed, up-uped, or whatever. I tried to describe how to do it. Nothing. It was like they were sitting on an ordinary rug. But...

It was almost school. A friend of my Mom had come over, discussing school stuff. In later years, my parents told me they were considering home-school. They initially decided, go public school for those getting-started years, then, upon middle-school grade, begin the home-school. Well, whatever. But anyway, my Mother's friend had a girl my age. When the friend arrived, Jasmine was still out, not locked up. So, what did I do...

I took the girl who was my age, named Vicky, to the back yard. I carried out Jasmine. First, I gave her a demonstration. I sat upon Jasmine and floated about for a while. Vicky was amazed, and naturally asked, "Can I ride it?"
To which, just as naturally, I replied, "Yes".

So, with Vicky sitting behind me, I willed Jasmine up. She did so. My thrilled friend and I hovered about, and wafted back and forth over the yard.

"I wanna go out there", Vicky requested, pointing out some area, I think there were wild-flowers, outside the fence. I informed her, "Mama doesn't let me fly out there".

Then, we both heard a blood-curdling scream! Vicky's Mother saw Vicky on Jasmine with me, a floatin' around. My Mom ran out, restraining her emotion, "Come on down, honey! I don't think Vicky's Mom wants her doing that."

So, there went the first contact to the outside world with this talent.
Vicky's Mother nearly fainted. It was truly frightening to her. Now, she was a spiritualist too, but not as well accustomed to it and, not really on that path, to easily accept strange, new phenomenon.

Vicky and her Mother and Father were prisoners of a typical neighborhood. Surrounded by energy-damping fields, disbelief, "can'ts", stodgy ways, 24-7-television, and unyielding beliefs, they were buffered by a mere postage-stamp of a yard, and flimsy wood fence for the back yard, and only hedge-bushes for the front. I almost felt sorry for Vicky and them, but, they seemed okay. It is a case of living in a dark cave all one's life, so, one would think darkness is normal. That one has no idea of the wonderful light outside. That was Vicky's family. They were living in an area of no energy, low vibration; darkness; a darkness made darker by "9-11"... Oh no, I got it! The sysop's condition! His grumpitis!
No, not really. I too am not thrilled with "9-11" or any of the events afterward. It's just that, I don't raise the very fires of hell when talking about it, like grumpy the sysop does.

Well, Vicky's Mother finally calmed down after wonderfully worded explanations from my Mother, to which, Vicky and I also listened. Vicky herself, no problem.

Later, on a subsequent visit of Vicky, we had Jasmine out in the yard. I had flown her around some, got bored, and were playing at something else. By and by, Vicky returned to Jasmine the carpet. She sat on Jasmine by herself... and rose up... but, it was unstable. Jasmine sort of waved around, tilted, and just, was difficult for Vicky to control. Vicky began to crawl off. As she did so, Jasmine came down from the two-foot height somewhat uncontrolled, almost like dropping. It didn't hurt Vicky, no, didn't even phase her. She merely crawled off and asked, "I don't know how to do it. Can we fly Jasmine?" And of course, I took her on another ride; a couple times around the yard.

Later, I got the idea myself, of taking Mom or Dad for a ride. But, it flat out did not work. No manner of willing up worked as long as either Mom or Dad sat on Jasmine with me. Knowing I had taken Vicky for a ride, my parents assumed they were just too heavy. But... no...

One day, doing imaginative play, I put on Jasmine the following: Several dolls, several stuffed animals, two suitcases stuffed with stuff, including some of Mom's barbell plates. The two suitcases were quite heavy. I was pretending to go on a long car-trip, like a vacation, on Jasmine. Jasmine lifted me and all of that, no problem.

Okay, later still, another kid came to our house, a girl. Taking her out to the back yard, I sat her behind me and I willed Jasmine up. Nothing. The girl kind of laughed at me for thinking a carpet could fly. But, I showed her. When she got off, I, alone on Jasmine, wafted up, no problem. The girl's mouth dropped open, and she was a believer. Just that, why couldn't she fly with me, but Vicky could? Hmmm...

As I grew older and wiser, or at least, more experienced with people, I would do the following: I would take a friend, sit her on Jasmine, and simply asked her to "think about going up". If nothing happened, then, she did not have... whatever it was. There was nothing wrong with them, they were perfectly nice. The girl above, Lisa, is every bit as nice as Vicky. In fact, she learned the way of spiritualism better than Vicky for a long time. Later, however, Vicky caught up. Anyway, if the test failed, I would just say, "I'm seeing if you feel what I feel when I do it"... Well, it depended on the friend. If they were of a sort that... well, only I got to where I could feel out; if the friend was of the "right sort" I would demonstrate my ability to fly. Then the friend would try it. For some folks, however, I kept my ability to fly a secret.

Anyway, the thing is, if someone had the ability to no more than cause Jasmine to flutter, even if they did not float, then I could take them on rides. But, if they could not get Jasmine to even budge, then I could NOT take them on rides. This phenomenon has got to be associated with the energy body somehow. And it does not depend on "niceness" or anything. Look at me; you will see later in this story, that I'm an attention-getting, proud, sex-hungry bitch! So, I'm no saint. But... what religions consider good or bad often has no meaning... No, it goes deeper than that. It is a non-judgmental, paranormal phenomenon, that's all.

Now, another little phenomenon: Heavy usage of Jasmine would cause me to lose weight. Was the energy for Jasmine's flight coming from me? Not through my muscles, but directly, from the energy of my blood-glucose to the lifting forces of Jasmine? Later, calculations would show this to not be the entire answer. There is some energy apparently coming from me, but not all.

Okay now, I hope to pick up the pace with this early stuff, cause, I'm having to keep it so "dry"; no reference to anything sexually fun, as per Grumpy's orders.

Alright, let's see, keep it pertinent...
Okay, this: This account is being put on Musclewomen.com because, it is a story about a muscle woman; me. I done gave out my measurements, weight and biceps size at the beginning of this account. Never mind my mysterious talent, I'm on here cause I'm muscular.

Indeed, I grew fast, and was always stronger and taller than anyone in my classes, including boys.
Starting about the forth grade, I began to get bitchy. Funny thing is, while some girls or boys that age get a little rude with their parents, that didn't happen with me. Maybe because my parents were so cool.

Well, anyway, I began to cut my hair and style it back from my ears. I wore jewelry, all be it plastic or glass, and as extreme a clothing as the school would allow...
Uh, can I mention that I stopped wearing underwear at that time? Even with fairly short skirts? Oh well, the grouchosaurus-sysop can remove this part if he wants.

But anyway, the only thing I was going to say is, when I began letting my ears show, it did not take long for the reactions to start. Close friends like Vicky or Lisa already knew about my ears. But now, classmates could see them. My ears are not super noticeable, but, if close, they might cause one to do a "double-take". The tops of my ears do indeed rise to a sharp curve, imparting a distinct, elfish suggestion.

When a loud-mouthed, thinks-he-knows-it-all, obnoxious boy teased me about my ears, I right crossed him hard. Result, he was sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from his face from an actual broken nose. I was sent to the office.

The principal, teacher and my parents all reprimanded me and explained, that my strength is greater than I realize myself, and to go easy. Later, my parents further explain stuff about understanding people's reactions to things like my ears. And, once again, non-religious though they may be, they quoted Jesus from the Bible, "Forgive them, for they know not what they do".

At fifth grade, my parents decided to let me have at it three more years that would be middle school. Home schooling would begin at high school. They surmised, that my personality was plenty strong, and would not be swayed by the negativities and "can'ts" that would surely be floating about in middle school. In other words, I was enough of a bitch that classmates wouldn't mess with me.

At fifteen years old, I began working out with weights. Mom, the resident weight-lifter, showed me the most effective exercises and lifts.

By the time of these years, I was traveling further and further with Jasmine the carpet, by myself. My parents were gradually "loosening the leash".

Now, here's another part grumpy the sysop may caution against. Again, he can remove this. But I think it should be okay. I won't mention anything sexual...

Working out with weights bored the livin' hell outa me. My weight set, bench, bars, plates and all, was next to Mom's, in the basement. Well, one day, I lugged them all, getting a lot of extra weight-work in the process, to outside and in the back yard. Then, I used Jasmine to carry them to a remote area in the meadow behind the woods that were behind the house. Now, that was a test for Jasmine's lifting abilities. Jasmine the carpet handled carrying the weights well. The only limitation, space. I flew at a modest four feet off the ground, and only at five to eight miles per hour.

Anyway, I moved the entire weight-set to a place in the middle of nature. I moved the parts to and then built a simple little roof thingy to cover the weights from rain. If windy, rainy weather was threatening, I'd cover them up with a tarp, additionally.

Then, with the weight set way out there, I'd work out nude. Yep, naked as a j-bird... whatever that means. I loved it!

I worked out three times a week. When I go out there, I did not use Jasmine. I pedaled a mountain bike there. It was a great warm-up, much more interesting than the "jumping-jacks" that Mom showed me. And, the ride back was a great "warm-down". Depending on temperature, I rode the bike dressed in any thing from jacket to string-bikini.

Summer got pretty hot, doing that in the open, outside like that. I managed to acquire a 100-watt solar panel, battery and a 12-volt radiator fan like those used in a car. Just got it at a car-parts store. I had to build a special mount for it, but it did the job keeping me cool during summer work-outs.

Now, we're getting dicey here, considering Internet rules and grumpy the sysop's warnings.

My Father completed a medical transcription course and, thanks to the excellent school he attended, acquired a work-at-home-job within weeks. My Father retired from electronics service, and worked at home. What a relief! No more of that damned commuting. But, his hours were just that, his. He would go on mind-freshening strolls at any time. Medical transcription is an office job, very, very sedate and chair-bound, needing concentration, and so requires breaks consisting of physical activity.

Well, one summer, into my little niche in the trees, where I was working out, naked, strolled my Father! Sheesh!

Well, once again, my parents' level-headed, cool, spiritualist's outlook made everything okay. My Mother's only admonition, "You should have warned us. I would have permitted it".
She was assuming I was doing it behind her back... Hmm, maybe there was a little of that, but when Mom worked out, she wore a thong bikini, mere strings. I just took it the final step. Yeah, I guess I should've told them.

So, since fifteen years old, I have been weight-lifting, as well as running, not as exercise but, just as fun, and ditto for the mountain-bike riding. This made me into an athletic, muscularly endowed, big, tall amazon, sure enough. And don't think I didn't show it off; like every chance I got.

My parents put limitations on me as to dress, but, pushing the limits, I wore the shortest skirts possible, and the briefest tank-tops possible. And, the highest heels possible. And naturally, no underwear under the skirts.

Now, one more thing that happened before my eighteenth birthday, regarding the phenomenon of Jasmine the carpet... This occurred when I was sixteen, one summer. After this, I can finally get to the part of my life after eighteen, and we can start having a little more fun.

Well anyway, as I mentioned, my parents were ever loosening the leash on my activities with Jasmine the carpet. I went on excursions by myself. I went further, and higher, and faster. I had Jasmine up to what felt like, possibly sixty miles per hour. To the time of being sixteen years old, I had taken Jasmine up to a couple thousand feet in altitude. Don't tell my parents that!

Much of my parents' property and surrounding land is unexplored. We generally could only hike where there are trails. Many of the trails are beaten out by deer. I discovered a small lake way out there. The first time I discovered it, I did not fly over it, but wafted down and landed on its shore. Rare is it, to find a body of water like that still pristine and peaceful. Most shores, whether it be lakes or sea, are infested with human crapola, whether it be attractions, crowded parks, or those inevitable gated communities where no one is allowed in except for the owners of the small but way over-priced, hooty-tooty houses within. So here was a lake, a fair sized one, with none of that bull shit.

On my second trip there, I brought a small canoe. Just laid it across Jasmine. Another larger canoe was our canoe-trip-canoe, and a little too unwieldy to carry on Jasmine, anyway. But this little nine-footer was enough for just me.
Wow, that was so much fun, sitting in the middle of that canoe, on a mat, Indian-style, paddling around my own private lake. Water gives off special vibrations and energies, but, it's just that, most shores are ruined. But here was one, uneffected by human junk, with its energies completely accessible.
Anyway, on that second trip to the lake, I did not cross the lake on Jasmine, but landed on the shore.

On a third trip there that I took to canoe some and maybe, meditate, I lowered my altitude to some forty feet, just over the trees. I thought I'd take a little trip across the lake. But, when I began the crossing, it was as if a table-top underneath Jasmine dropped away!

Jasmine suddenly became very unstable, lost altitude fast, and wasn't responding to my wills. Frightened by what happened, I willed as hard as possible further over the lake, so my fall would be in deep water. But the way Jasmine and I were spinning, and the wind, I ended up over the shore again and... the falling stopped! I regained control, and Jasmine flew just fine!

Okay...
What happened!!!???

I kept Jasmine at a safe six feet off the ground and wafted slowly. I attempted another crossing. But as soon as I got over the water, she began to collapse again! Not as sudden, this time. I horsed her back over the shore, barely skimming over the wet shore-dirt by inches. Once over the land, Jasmine flew normally. My mind had made the connection...

Jasmine can NOT fly over bodies of water!?!?!?

I experimented. Sure enough, any attempt to cross the lake resulted in Jasmine loosing control. Well! I'll sure put THAT on my "pilot's report" to myself!

Well! I was sure to tell this to my parents, that evening. That produced an after-supper discussion where we kinda wondered first, what makes Jasmine fly, before we wondered about what makes her NOT fly over water...

"Let's see", pondered my Father, "Airplanes, jets; they're fixed-wing craft, propelled by some kind of engine to a high enough speed to generate aerodynamic lift. Helicopters; they rotate their wings, birds; well, they kind of combine characteristics of fixed-wing and moving-wing flight, then, there's your light-than-air craft, like dirigibles, balloons or blimps which use some kind of gas which is lighter than the surrounding air, like helium or hot air. But, your carpet... uses none of those..."
I added, "She floats silently, like a balloon, but Jasmine with me on her are definitely not lighter than air..."
"And, you don't respond to wind", Mom added...

Some silence... then:

"UFOs", began my Father, "If... if they're real, use something else other than lighter-than-air gases or aerodynamic forces... that's generally what we... on Earth, are familiar with, isn't it? If you're going to fly, it's either going to be using some kind of device that makes use of aerodynamic forces, or some kind of device employing a bag filled with lighter-than-air gas, but... neither one of those are in use, when you fly Jasmine."
"Keeping in mind, the law of conservation of energy and/or matter", my Mother considered, "where is the energy for Jasmine's flight coming from?"
"I don't know", I replied, "But one thing I've noticed; if I fly her a lot, I get very hungry. I thought it was from the air in my face and stuff, but, no... I get very, very hungry. Y'all have said it yourselves, I eat like a horse, yet, I never gain weight..."
"Well, that's cause you're so active", Mom said, "you're always riding your mountain bike back there like a bat outa hell, or you're hiking, you lift weights, which is all great! But I think, that's what is keeping you trim".
"I don't know, Mom", I said, "I know some girls that work out and exercise, but they're always having to diet. I... I not only eat a lot of what's good for ya, but devour tons of cake, cookies and ice cream. Yet, if anything, I need to put on just a little more weight, to smooth out my complexion".
"So...", began my Father, "What you're saying, is that Jasmine's energy for flight, is coming, somehow, from you?"
"Yeah...", I pondered aloud.
"Like, not through your muscles, but... directly?", my Mother theorized, "Directly from... your blood-sugar supplies?"
"Maybe...", I pondered.
My Father stated, "Hmm, it should prove interesting to get an endocrinologist here, if we could, to do an endocrinological study of your blood chemistry, before and after a vigorous flight with Jasmine."

I... didn't quite get all that... by that time in my life, as I think I mentioned, my Father had become a medical transcriptionist and would, from time to time, use terms that would, like, sorta fly over me. But I get the gist of it. I think I mentioned it before, the possibility that Jasmine draws her energy for flight directly from my blood glucose.
Indeed, that seems to be happening. But, later calculations showed, the energy balance is not there. Or, at least, if it is all my energy, it is being utilized most efficiently.

After that, there was some discussion on how UFOs fly. Of course, they are purely theoretical. Discussions about them take place in a much more competent manner on Coast To Coast AM, my parents' and my favorite radio talk show.

Sheesh, we have a dedicated high-quality radio with outside antenna and dedicated tape recorder, all on timer, for no other purpose than to record Coast To Coast AM, which, here in West Virginia, takes place from one-A.M. to five-A.M. We listen to it during more "civil" times of day, particularly, at least for Mom, during exercise. Of course, she needs something for the boring way she does exercise, in the basement.

I go racing out to the meadow back there for my nude exercises, but, I generally do exercise the same time Mom does. So what I've done, is rigged up a small, little AM station, maybe all of two watts, to carry our recording of Coast To Coast. As Mom listens to it, and fast-forwards past commercials, I listen to it on an old car radio hooked up to my solar where I exercise.

It used to be difficult to pull in Coast To Coast, that's why the super-duper radio receiver. It became much easier some years ago when the powerful WLAC from Nashville Tennessee began carrying it. Recently, a station in Charleston West Virginia began carrying it.

Hey! Grumpy old sysop! Can I give 'em a link? Again, he can edit it out if he wants. For Coast To Coast AM audio streaming, and other information...

Click here for Coast To Coast AM

...Uh, a bit later, that is. Finish the story first... if you're liking it...
OH YEAH! That's right! This was my last "dry" event. Now we can get to the part after I'm eighteen, where we can finally get into some interesting stuff!

Okay, okay... to sum up: So, the discussion about the UFO was merely, the fact they do not use aerodynamics nor light gases for flight, so, is Jasmine my carpet using a force similar to UFOs? And if so, what is that force? Some have theorized UFO's can focus and direct gravity... Hmm... that possibly would do it.

Okay, that's it, except to say, that when I was seventeen years old, about June, sure enough, my Mom did manage to find an open-minded Registered Nurse who knew how to do, uh... I'll have to consult my Dad for spelling this one... endocrinological, yeah, that's it, to do... those types of studies on my blood chemistry before and after a vigorous flight with Jasmine. Indeed, we did find, there is a change in my blood chemistry indicating a drop in glucose, but with none of the usual blood-chemical by-products of exercise. So indeed, there does seem to be something reaching directly into my blood, drawing the energy straight from its glucose, for Jasmine's flight-energy.

All right! Finally! And, we're even going to link forward to another page for this, mostly because, this page is getting a little too long for decent loading into a browser. So, click on the link below...

AFTER 18
And, I'll see ya!

We're puttin' in a place to email comments about my shenanigans so far. But, Grumpy the Sysop has warnings, as usual.
For obvious reasons, I want to keep my identity, actual location (it may or may not be West Virginia), and things like that a secret. Use this site's email, say it's for "Genie", and Grumpy will relay it to me.
But maybe it's best to continue the story. Many questions will be answered.

Comments so far? This is the email link.
But heed the warnings! Dumb-ass emails will not be tolerated!

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