Karl Adder was in a rage. He had made a big show of letting everyone know he was being promoted to head of the duplication department. All his personal things were still boxed up for the move. His just rewards had been taken from him more times than he could tolerate. He made everyone within reach pay for his misery. Verbally abusing those around him, he soon had everyone in his department filing for a transfer. It didn't do any good. They couldn't transfer out because no one would transfer in to take their place. There were only two ways to escape the hell Karl was spreading in his department. One was, quit the company, or two, if someone hired on and you happened to be the worker with the most seniority then maybe, just maybe, you might get a transfer. The new help would take your place in Karl's little office of hell.

The day started off quietly enough. Karen awoke to find herself wondering if she dreamed it all. Looking in the mirror didn't help. Maybe she only thought about cutting her hair and fingernails last night before she went to bed? She was still looking at the model she and Henry designed two days ago. Be thankful for small favors, she decided. At least she didn't have to apply hardly any makeup. Everything was designed in. She couldn't change it now.

Evidence

Breathe in. Slowly. Slowly. Breathe. I kept my eyes closed but I sat up. When I opened them Bree handed me a flask. I pulled, not because I wanted to but because that seemed like the thing you did when someone put a flask in your hands. And I coughed, because it was straight whiskey. And I handed it back.

I smoothed the bodice of my dress down. I ran my fingers through my hair and messed it up.

Well that was every calming mechanism I had that I knew of, I turned to Autumn, “Can I have a cigarette?”

Before —
Finally the two got to Carol’s apartment door and after unlocking pushed in. Carol pushed Gill a bit more roughly into the living room than necessary as the rigid control she’d been holding over her emotions relaxed now that she was in a ‘safer’ location, then closed the door locking it and sliding the deadbolt.

As the body she thought ‘might’ contain Gill stood quivering and tightly holding what Carol now had time to observe and confirm was “herself”, Carol’s control slipped and she barked, “All right! Who are you really, and what’s happened to my friends!?!?”

David and Karen made it to the entry door without someone right behind them. As soon as they were inside, Henry used the electronic security lock on the door. People could still get out by pushing on the crash bars, but it would be a minute before he unlocked the door and allowed anyone to get in. He would make sure no one followed David and Karen to their labs.

Slowly, the rest of what she had seen, but hadn't yet grasped, dawned on her. Looking down at her breasts, she held them as her mind raced in desperation searching for solid ground. Her reasoning and sanity were in doubt. A blizzard of questions and answers swirled in and out of her mind. Nothing was there she could comprehend. Questions screamed for proper answers. Her mind searched in a futile effort to snatch logic from a whirlpool of illogical, irrational denominators. There wasn’t a match anywhere.

Piercing

“So?”

“So what?”

“So are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” This was a text conversation I’m considerately putting into conversation form, between Big Davey and me. I was zoning out and trying not to remember the way his lips closed over the head of my phantom dick, while I browsed instagram. My phantom dick had not made an appearance in the two days since it had been sucked to completion. In the time since I had told no one and while it filled my fantasies I wasn’t eager to talk about it.

TW: Transphobia

Death is weird..

It certainly wasn’t what I expected.
A little over 2 months ago, I died in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. I’d convinced my friends that I wasn’t that drunk and that I'd be able to drive home no problem. I never made it.

I don’t know what I expected to happen after that but it certainly wasn’t waking up the very next morning.

This story is my second story taking place in the Forgotten universe. I thought it would be fun to explore a time where the religion and superhumans were interconnected in a time not well explored in the superhero genre. Thus, while they are still superhumans, they are called Blessed during this time period and their abilities (superpowers) are called Blessings. However, I also decided to introduce a rather unknown aspect of Forgotten's history in this story. I had planned to introduce it Forgotten around the chapter 20 mark, but decided, why not here. Also, I'm aware that a large portion of the story is not written in the 18th-century style, nor do I actually take the time to write a British accent out. This is because I don't know how to. if I plan to rewrite it in the future, I will try to address these issues then, but for now, enjoy the story as is.

Why the ranger was addressing me “hon” and “miss”? According to my survival rule I didn’t question a person in the uniform no matter how much I wanted to know what was so girly in my appearance. When I left my home yesterday I looked like someone in between of Robert Englund and Dolph Lundgren, sixty-seven years old and hair in a regular cut. I was never in my life mistaken for a female.

"To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question" If given the power of a comic book superhero, is that person obligated to play the part for the greater good?

To Be or Not to Be, That is the Existential Question.

Chapter 1: To Be

The last class of the day and it had to be the one I hated most. I didn't hate it because I wasn't any good at, far from it, my grades were excellent. It's just that it was so boring.

Jane's cell was made of living wood. It was a small circular space, just wide enough for her to sit against the wall with her legs straight. The floor was spongy and slightly damp when she pressed down on it. The walls where angled outwards, making a comfortable backrest. Light came in through several narrow gaps high above her head.

The villagers had seized her hours ago and brought her here, She'd been too shocked to resist at the time, besides that Hanna girl looked like she knew how to use a spear, and was willing to do her serious harm.

Jane's jaw dropped, she looked from the floating notification to Mr Brewster sitting at the table, "You're a quest giver?"

The man deflated, his shoulders drooping. "I'm an Innkeeper ain't I? Of course I'm a quest giver."

He slapped the table, making his confection wobble on its plate. "Damn! Quests can take a long time. By the time you are back, I probably won't have a use for the cherries. You best go armed, it's not a proper quest if there are no monsters to fight."

Jacky is forced to undergo painful conversion therapy to make her a straight woman. Meanwhile, a sinister personality works behind the scenes to destroy Jacky and Jill in one swift stroke. Can Jacky resist the treatment? Will Chris save the day? Jacky's childhood trauma is finally revealed.