Search with your mind

You focus with your mind, trying to search the echoing thoughts of the other passengers to find your assailant.

'This sucks.'

'Can't wait for the football later.'

'I wish I had a car.'

'I wonder what her boobs would feel like with my hands.'

That's him! It must be! It sounds like the same creep who was so excited when your breasts pushed past him earlier. You want to blast him and knock him out... But you can't bring yourself to do it. Your mind won't let you... Because you have a little bit of doubt remaining. What if this isn't the guy who's groping you? In that case, you'd be mind-blasting an innocent man. A pervert, sure, but you're not out here to punish thought crimes. You need to be sure that this is your molester.

The hand squeezes your butt even tighter, making you yelp. Or rather, you would have, if your voice could be heard on this train.

The train is not only unusual with its defeaning hum, but also in the way it moves. It suddenly lurches around a corner, throwing you and everyone else to the side, with just enough **** that you and everyone else not holding onto a handrail stumbles a bit.

You focus super hard to make sure you don't lose track of your suspect's thought stream.

'Silly bitch, she should be taking much more care! You've got to hold onto the handrail at all times when the train is moving!'
hold onto the handrail at all times when the train is moving!
hold onto the handrail at all times when the train is moving!
hold onto the handrail at all times when the train is moving!

The thought echoes over and over in your head. And then, to you shock and horror, you feel your arm raise up high, and take hold of the handle dangling down from above you.

You didn't make a conscious decision to do that, it just happened.

What the fuck. You think to yourself, and try to let go.

It won't budge. Your right hand, your dominant hand, is fucking glued to this stupid handle.

'Nice, this is my chance!' The man's thought thinks to himself (and to you).

And then the next moment, there's no longer a hand on your butt, but there are two hands, squeezing on your large, supple breasts through your office blouse. You've never felt so violated in your life.

'Holy fuck! These things feel incredible!' The molestor thinks to himself.

And that's the last thing he thinks before he's knocked out cold by your mental tranquilizer blast.

Fuck you. You think to yourself, as you turn around and look at his crumbled form on the floor beneath you, right on top of the first molester. I've got superpowers, bitch.

But you can't help but notice that even as you turned around, your hand wouldn't let you release its grip on the handle above you. This **** guy's thoughts did something to you before you knocked him out, and for better or for worse, it doesn't look like you're going to be able to move from this spot, or use your right hand, until the train reaches its next stop.