Unedited first peak at a new story.

A story of life and finding ones true nature. The eternal struggle of overcoming the darkness.

"There you go again, eyes always wide shut."
"It helps" I say.
"Helps how?"
"What time is it?"
"Quarter to three, looks like our time for today is about up." I hear him close the notebook.
"I have something to say."
"Okay, what is it?" The book opens again.
"I wish to be a fool, or at least able to say foolish things at times."
"It's okay, I'm listening..."
"It's a secret... you understand?"

This is the story of a man who finds a magic box, one that changes him into a Teenage Drow girl (a dark elf) and he has to deal with the very sudden change. Then handle all the memories of a Drow that was 'made' for a long lost war. This new part of him, has 40,000 years of memories of fighting that war. She has to deal with all that pent up PTSD, her enemy is here, but she loves her. Her old Queen is here and she wants to kill, that Queen ohh so bad!

                What is it you really want, a Soulmate or just a Perfect Warrior?

                Chapter the Second

Where our heroine plays with herself and her new boytoy a bit

~~~~~~

I got to know Doug so quickly in fact that it felt like I knew him my whole life. Nothing seemed out of bounds, except my dark secret. And even there Doug got to know me better than I know myself. The real me.

Copyright © 2017 by AuP reviner

Greg develops a new skill with his hand as a result of his fascination for his step sister's pretty yellow sun dress.

Here we are, the long awaited chapter 30. As I was telling people last month, It's hard for me to believe I've gotten this far. Time to celebrate?

But enough about me, time for more Maeve! Enjoy!

CHAPTER 65
I was really at a loss without her, and when Pete left shortly afterwards to take his boy down I was almost lost. It was an education, in a sense. I had spent so long on my own after Tricia had been taken I had felt that I was comfortable in my solitude, that I didn’t need people around me. I realised just then, as the house emptied and the nearest of my friends headed south, that I had merely been numb, not comfortable. Just because you lose the feeling in a hand or other bit doesn’t mean it can’t get damaged, just that the pain doesn’t tell you if it does. That had been my life: numbed, no pain, but steadily being damaged by my isolation.