This is part 5 of 7 of All-Star Sissy, a now completed story with 15 spin-off captions. If you want to read the rest of this tale, or check out the other stories in the Sissy Camp universe, check out my patreon.
https://www.patreon.com/c/SissyGirlSammi
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New series! This is going to be ongoing for a while, and is currently two stories ahead on my patreon, if you want to catch up.
https://www.patreon.com/c/SissyGirlSammi
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Orla inserted her scuffed bronze-colored key into the lock, turned it, and opened the door. With its peeling light blue paint, it fortunately did nothing to betray the apartment's relative opulence.
It hadn't been like this when her and her grandmother, Kahri, first moved in. No, at that time, the place had been the dictionary definition of what the locals might call a "shithole," a term as unfamiliar to them as it was second nature to their new neighbors.

Part Six by Iona Laing.

Chapter Sixteen.

Epilogue

“Hello Alison.”

What was it with plump women and oversized glasses? She looked even more like a baby owl than ever, albeit a very large one.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“Carrie Leach.”

“Oh fuck!”

“Relax. I’m only here to talk.”

“Yeah, that’s all you did last time and see where that got us.”

“I guess.”

“How come you don’t look like, you know, her?”

 
XXX: Penthouse Pet

Sam and Rick awkwardly got into the ride vehicle, a giant sturgeon with skin marred by peeling paint and bleach stains. The inside of it had been scooped out as if by some hungry giant, the organs and fat replaced by two benches dotted with droplets of water from previous loops.

 
XXI. Mourning and Mothering

XIX. Blackreach and Blacker Hearts

The moth’s carcass smouldered, wings fused to a cigarette butt like a failed origami angel. Evelyn traced the curve of Georgia’s hip, her touch tender as a grease fire. For three breaths, the room held still—the kind of quiet that lives between a trigger pull and the bullet’s verdict.

Chapter 2 of 3 – Release

And it gets worse in this chapter. Honestly, be cautious.

 
 
XII. The Feast of Fractured Mirrors

The farmhouse table groaned beneath casseroles that reeked of clove and false piety. John’s mother—a woman who starched her hymns—leaned in, her gaze lingering on Lanie’s sun-kissed cheeks and the demure lace dress that was Georgia. “What a vision,” she sighed as if this moment could be preserved like a jar of pickled beets.

It was 3:00 AM, and the Thief…opened the large, ornate door. That was it. He couldn’t believe it. If his trusted Agent of so many years hadn’t been the one to tell him, he wouldn’t have. They had met earlier that day, in the busy food court of the local mall, the smell of bad Chinese food heavy in the air, stale, tinny pop music playing from some hidden speaker above their heads.

This is the second chapter of All-Star Sissy. The third is currently up on my patreon and the next will hopefully be posted there next month. Thanks for reading!

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