The woman I was interviewing for a job at first gave me a very good impression. In person she confirmed her CV. Competent, decisive, with a no-nonsense getting things done attitude. Perhaps a bit aggressive but for the position in question that was not necessarily a problem. In fact everything went well until she noticed that I was wearing a bra. I should have known better. Never wear a colored bra under a white shirt, even if it’s the most exquisite turquoise.

The Imitation Game
By Vilastis

“STOP IT!” Cassie yelled at her infuriating younger brother Caleb.

“STOP IT!” he yelled back.

She really hated when he did this kind of thing. And her parents didn’t fucking care. Even though he was fourteen now they still saw him as a cute little kid.

“Seriously, stop it!” She clenched her fist.

“Seriously, stop it!” He clenched his fist.

Alien

Joann stood as well and came over to my bedside, “You haven’t eaten for about a week, so I don’t know what the doctor wants to do, but it’ll be at least a day before you’re on real food again. Do you want me to get you a Popsicle?”

“That would be nice. Did anyone find my backpack?”

“It’s in one of the cupboards, would you like it?”

“Please?”

She went over to the cupboards on the wall and fished around until she had my backpack in her hands, and brought it over to my bed. “Do you want cherry or orange?”

“Cherry please.”

Swap By Failure is designed as a one-page pen and paper that has all necessary rules to play it on just one page. For this game, there is no general setting, but I recommend a normal non-magical world on the height of our current civilization and normal everyday people as player characters.

“Do you feel guilty?” Dr. Jordan is having a fruit smoothy for her breakfast. I’m dinning on ashes and cold pizza.

“No.” Of all the feeling I feel, guilt is not one.

“Why not?”

I know she’s trying to be helpful so I do my best to explain, “If it was another gun runner Tinoct would have been in the same place, doing the same things.” Getting the same shot. “I don’t supply people who have the odds with them, or I wouldn’t have a job. He was a revolutionary. Not the first to die, not the last, not even the middle.”

“Could you have saved him?”

I thought that the world situation required a bit of insanely comic relief, and I'll admit to having had some very "head banging" things happen to me; all, erm mostly, without drugs or other intoxicants.

When magic spells are cast, some are very specific, but others are vague on the details. If a wizard changes a man into a lovely maiden, he might decide what the new woman looks like and how she's dressed. But what happens if the change is triggered by a magical object, or an ambiguously worded wish? Who determines what standard of beauty to use? Who determines what clothes she's wearing after the transformation and makes sure that it's color-coordinated? Who decides on her hair and makeup? Or imprints skills she may need for her new life? They are...the DMGC.

A whimsical and sexy romp with fairy magic gone awry and their frantic efforts to put things to rights!

I bolt upright in bed to the sound of the red alert klaxon. I guess the question of what I can face will have to wait because there’s an emergency somewhere on my ship.

Chinta is several steps away from awake as I rush out the door to find Tinoct. He’s standing in the corridor next to an emergency panel, and he manages to look a little sheepish. “I didn’t know the best way to wake you.”

“Coming to wake me up would be a step above this.” I put in the captain’s code to shut it off, “What’s going on?”

“The police are on their way to shut down the festival.”

I get a text when I step outside. It’s a selfie of Chinta, posing in front of a statue made of diapers. I think that means I should meet her near the statue made of diapers.

I look around for a statue made of diapers, then put my phone into the face of the nearest passerby. She nods like she’s seen it, and adds an expression like she’s seen everything. She’s young. It’s cute.

I give her the closest I can get to a “where is it?” expression, and she points further into the maze. I don’t even try, just set out in that general direction.

Impostor Syndrome: Chapter 2
By Vilastis

Who's the impostor, and who is real? Jeez, don't ask me. It's not like I figured it out since last time or anything.

Dinner is yucca again. I’m feeling things about seeing Sacti, but she isn’t there. I’m worried, but this is a hotel so I put it out of my mind.

This time Chinta comes back to the room with me. I smell the sex in the room, which leads me to the thought that I desperately want a shower. I shed my cultural costume with a little bit of no idea what I’m doing.

Chinta immediately fastens onto one of my nipples, and murmurs, “I’ve been waiting so long to get you out of that,” as I cradle her head. We end up tangled in bed together.

Seeing Erin oh so casually bring forth that little flame, then snuff it out, showed that there did seem to be magic still in the world.

She and Erin sat in the kitchen at the gorgeous oak table, chatting over cups of tea just like many often do in the early evenings.

"I've been wondering, Erin," Stasia inquired, "Just how long have you been able to do magic?"

This makes sense, I think to myself. Whatever is happening here makes sense. She pins my wrists against the wall at shoulder height. Why not let her…

But my surprise keeps me from kissing her back immediately.

She pulls back. “I’m so sorry! I was just… it felt like… ” She’s blushing a pretty blue color.

I don’t feel like going from make out mode to embarrassment, so I stretch out my neck for another kiss. Chinta makes a little growl, and slams back into me.

Impostor Syndrome
By Vilastis

Who's the impostor, and who is real? I dunno either, man.

I’m in the sun waiting for the train for about 15 minutes before the 5.0 show up. I see them from the top of the stairs. They aren’t wearing a uniform I recognize, but their body language says “cop” in every dialect. I make a quick calculus and decide that a night in the cells might make me conspicuous to the authorities, and decide to be somewhere else.

The area is a nice and egalitarian, there are stairs and platforms and walkways everywhere. Lots of places for the only human in a hundred miles to stay out of view.

The second collection of short stories involving Alexa & Jenny. Some of these are bits that were edited out of chapters and others were just me having some fun with the girls. I hope you enjoy!

For years Leo had been on the run.
Mostly from the law, but also from the one thing he couldn't escape: the magical title "Legendary Troublemaker".
Today of all days is different.
A stroke of luck might change it all.
However, the question is if it is good or bad luck.

Chapter 18 - Waiting

I continue to exercise, four hours a day. The I-def gravity isn’t as destructive as no gravity, but it’s not great. And I’m bored.

I try to sleep less, and get down to the recommended third of a day. I think the planet is a 25 hour day, and like smart people (smarter than the Babylonians, anyway) they use metric time. Thank god they’re base 10 or that would really be hell.

Checks take about an hour, there’s only three pages to run through. I’m not taking off in an atmosphere, and the engine hasn’t been cool for too long. In fifteen minutes the drive is hot.

Solid fuel is fine. Water is fine. I went out and bought 25 lbs of food. Fresh vegetables and fruit (at an obscene markup), rice, bread, adventuresome pizza, beef, pork, rabbit, sausage, some whale, and gas station sushi. Gas station sushi is never a good idea, and for some reason I keep buying it. I throw out some noodles with a sense of vindication and relief.

At This Rate I’ll Never Turn Into a Girl!
By Vilastis

This story was basically written as an excessively long joke. The entire point is that there are constant jumping-off points for a fairly standard premise but it doesn’t take advantage of any of them. Side note: AJ is my best attempt at an underwritten stereotypical female friend.

Think Like A Girl
By Vilastis
Two friends make a strange bet that goes off in, well, a pretty predictable direction considering what website this is.

Something has broken deep inside me. I cry on the inside, laying in their arms, while I try to process what has happened. Something has happened inside my head and it’s devastating.

Sometimes a hooker would cry after sex. I tried to get offended, but the truth was, I never really cared that much. Not even enough to look down on them for it.

Now the emotional tole of the last two days, hell the last three months, is hitting me more deeply than I thought I could feel. These damn lesbians have mind-fucked me.

Author's Note:

Perhaps one of the greatest comedic pianists of our time, the "Clown Prince of Denmark" Victor Borge was known for inventing what he called "Inflationary Language". It's premise was simple: to every word that included a number or number sound, he simply added one to that part. Thus, wonderful became TWOderful, before became beFIVE, created became beNINEd, and so fifth. Here is my take on a classic Grimm's fairy tale, Cinderella. I hope you enjoy it.

Haylee V