The next time I managed to revert even marginally to my senses we were in a different store. I presumed it was Macys but didn't recognize the area which I immediately presumed was Women's lingerie and more. I didn't shop for my things here, but I guessed that was going to change in the near future. Looking about I noticed a large number of small packages surrounding me presumably either some of which just having been or still awaiting purchase. Just then the strait jacket I was only beginning to realize was wrapped around me made it’s presence known by cinching a little tighter. I discovered upon inspection that it didn't reach all that much above the nipples of my breast forms. I also both noted the increased difficulty in breathing and the stark contrast of my old breast forms against my chest.

The Return of the Scott

I nodded, so he went on. "You ever watch reality TV, Lou?" I shrugged. "You ever seen the cake shows?"

"Cake shows?" I repeated, puzzled.

Djinn Game III
By Ellie Dauber © 2003

Beachcombing after a storm, Fred Scofield finds a magical, jade and silver egg, the home of a beautiful, female djinn. Trying to impress — and seduce — her, Fred brags of his sexual prowess. The djinn challenges him to prove his claims, and, when he agrees to do so, Fred begins a journey through time, space, and his own past in a manner he could never have imagined. And plays a game of “Wits and Wishes” just as strange in its outcome.

This story was originally posted as a chapter of the antology-story,“Octet”, on FictionMania.

Guess who's coming to dinner?

Leo Morgenstern finds a magic lamp while he's on the beach trolling for girls. But it's an EMPTY magic lamp, and that's where his troubles begin.

Inspired by the song ‘You Were Mine’ by Emily Irwin and Martie Siedel and performed by ‘The Dixie Chicks.’

The everyday normal life of a college coed.

The chapter brought to you courtesy of the United States Postal Service.

Our flight turned out to be uneventful. Two hours and one stop later we showed our identification, retrieved our cases, and walked out the deplaning ramp into the terminal where we each found a restroom so we could extract our weaponry from the cases and place them into the appropriate holsters, sheathes and, in one case, a 9mm went into my purse. With two hours to kill, an early lunch was in order, during which we discussed strategy.

The History of Bad Break Ups: Page one, Chapter one.

“They loved each other too much.”

Lucky Number Thirteen...