Mechanid World - Gone SoftIt was a hot day for Propwash Junction… days that were usually the tell tale sign of a fire coming. Sure enough, the alarm sounded and Dusty and Mayday were off to take care of it. Jett and Chandra hated whenever this happened… It meant Daddy wasn’t able to play with them or show them tricks. Mom was fun too but it was way too hot to be doing anything crazy.Mechanid World - Gone Soft1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
Times like this, Jett just decided to sleep it off until Dusty got back. Chandra… she wanted to find something to occupy herself with besides sleep.
I don’t blame him for wanting to rest… It’s so stinkin’ hot… Everyone is tired and sluggish…
She wandered around town, seeing everyone taking cover under shades that various hangars casted. She eventually found herself wandering to the hangar at the end of the runway… The hangar of Skipper Riley.
It’s so hot… I need to get under some shade before I over heat…
She hurried over to the hangar
Jazz------- His trumpet was loose in his left hand as he sat in the hospital room. His right hand, he held his girlfriend’s as she slept. He looked across the room at the plastic crib that held their newborn daughter. He wanted to play right then. He was itching to play. Itching to let out a thousand blasting notes proclaiming it to all the world: he was a father.Jazz3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
------- Well, he was trying to be. He was off to a bad start. She’d called him just as his band was coming back from a break. Through the noise of the club and the hallway to the kitchen, he’d managed to hear that she was going into labor. She was in an ambulance and she was on her way to the hospital.
----- “They’re saying it could be soon, real soon.”
----- “These things though, they can take hours, like sometimes a whole day, though right?”
----- “I don’t know,” break for a groaning scream from her, “I think you need to come down her.”
----- He finge
The Phoenix Chapter Two Part TwoThe PhoenixThe Phoenix Chapter Two Part Two2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
Chapter 2: "Through The Fire" ~ Part 2
It was hard to say what kept drawing the golden stag this far out from the main herd. It was as if there was a voice in the wind that whispered his name. . . always, always in her voice. It was soft, a warm call, like the flicker of her fire that had become so familiar to him. For nearly a month now, he had been living in regret of his actions. It was a bittersweet realization that he had come to the second their little daughter had asked him where momma was.
How long had it been? The exact time was lost to him, but all he knew was that every second seemed drawn out into an anxious painstakingly, heart-wrenching day. Days felt like years.
Perhaps that was what had brought Monte out here this day. . . His deep golden brown eyes were fixed upon the distant mountains that lay between Silverthorne and Blackwood. How he wished he coul
Dying Golden Pothos Clayton walked through the house looking for his mother. He rubbed his eyes with his little balled up fists and yawned. “Mommy?” He called out.Dying Golden Pothos3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
“In here!” He heard his mother answer from her office. He shuffled into the same room as her and gave her a hug good morning. She gave him a kiss on his forehead and continued typing. She was working from home today.
Clayton looked around her office like he does every morning she’s here working. The pastel yellow walls were blank. He never understood why his mother never hung anything up like she hung up in his room. He has pictures of cars and baseballs all over his blue walls. After letting his eyes wonder, Clayton notices the houseplant on the edge of his mother’s desk by the window.
“Mommy, what’s wrong with your plant?” He inquired curiously. He scrunched his nose at the browning plant.
“Oh, dear. I must have fo
Short NightJer awoke to the sounds of a screaming baby. He groaned and rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes and glancing over at the time. “One forty two..” he softly spoke to himself. He stood up, cracking his bad back slightly as his arms moved up to stretch. While he was doing so, his eyes closed and his face scrunched up. The crying grew louder and that only encouraged him to break his stretch, cause him even more back pain and head towards his son's room. He stumbled down the hall a bit, still a little light-headed from having to stand up so quickly. Lovely body for a god..eh? He looked towards his son's room and noticed the faint crack of his door open. He had purposely left it open so that if his son were to cry, he would hear it right away. He raised a hand, gently pushing the door open and reached for the light switch on the wall left of him.Short Night1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
In the small crib just inside the room, was a small, brown wolf-boy. One might call him an anthro or werewolf child if they saw hi
StrangerMy body began to tremble as I clutched onto my shirt in fear. My expression was neutral by heart was racing. This was happening. I was going to look at someone and see me. The locks in the door clicked multiple times before the door swung open. There, I stood motionless, looking at a stranger who I've never seen before, but he shouldn't be a stranger. I should be able to recognize his face every time I look at him, but no. I don't know his face. I don't know what he does or who he is more importantly. His face was similar to mine, yet so different. I smiled hopelessly as a way of salutations but he seemed to reject it and stood there frozen. He looked at me, examining my every limb with his coffee brown eyes but he then returned his gaze into my eyes. Little droplets of his tears formed but he let them fall. I immediately reacted and began to slowly walk towards him with my arms open as a way of sympathy. He refused the offer of care and returned back into his home as teStranger1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
Conner's Motivations, Including...6:00AMConner's Motivations, Including...1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
His burden, responsibility
The sun had not yet risen. Woken by his alarm clock, Conner Reinsberg sat up in bed briefly, slapped the snooze button, and then fell back under the covers. He vaguely calculated the exact length of time he could sleep in and still have enough time to get ready, see his younger siblings off to school and still be at work on time. Although more hardworking then most, even he had days when waking up seemed like more of a chore then it was worth.
He was considering how much time he could add to his sleeping-in session by making his middle brother Dale prepare breakfast when his cellphone rang. After letting it go for a few moments, he got up again and wearily grabbed it off the nightstand beside his bed, squinting in the light from the screen trying to read the message. As he did so though, his tired frown turned into an energetic smile. He bounced up, practically dropping his phone on the table in the process, next to an old, much-loved Courage the Cowar
Itch!No, that isn't right. A little to the left perhaps? No, that isn't it either. Down? Definitely down. A little further. Ah. Yes. That was it. Right there. But... No, still not quite there. Harder? Softer? Faster? Slower? Maybe in a circle? No. Left and right? No. God, this is frustrating. Arrgh! Wait! Don't change. That. Is. It. Right there. Ohhh, that is good. Thank you so much! I love you.Itch!1 day ago in Short Stories More Like This
Please, GodI started praying for the success of sports teams when I was around four-years-old. My dad was a huge fan of the Braves. My room has been the same shades of red and navy blue since I was born. When I mentioned that I really liked the color orange instead, I was yelled at. We aren't Mets fans, he said. And so I never brought it up again because I hate being yelled at almost as much as I hate it when the Atlanta Braves lose.Please, God3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm not really sure what other kids pray for when they kneel at their bed sides. My mom taught me the ritual early on and even though she's gone now I continue it in her memory. I always pray that the Braves win and I pray that her soul rests peacefully. I often feel guilty that I pray for her soul second to my own, but I guess the living take precedence over the dead.
My first relationship in middle school ended because my girlfriend caught me praying. No, she wasn't against religion. She was just disgusted that I would pray for a team victory rather than the safety
What Are You Hiding From Me?"Alright, see you tomorrow." I nodded and headed off to the orange tabby cat in the clearing. She is protecting me from my past. Why though? I love my aunt, Sandfeather, but she is way too protective of me most of the time. I need to be able to do things by myself, I'm not a kit anymore.What Are You Hiding From Me?22 hours ago in Short Stories More Like This
I never got to do anything as a kit because of her always hovering over my shoulder. Even just before today, she fussed over me the night before training. Having me go to bed early, being sure I had eaten, I'm getting pretty sick of it. I nuzzled up next to her and she curled her tail around my paws.
"You're getting so big." she sighed.
"And I'm not a kit anymore auntie." I told her.
"That is true. Almost an adult." She reminisced.
"What are you keeping from me? What are you so afraid of? I want to know about them. I can't stand not knowing where I came from." I surprised myself by talking in a totally serious voice. Sandfeather's ears folded back as she frowned.
"To be honest..." She took a deep breat
The paradoxes of a blessed—No one prays nowadays— Graciela told herself with a tone of irony and despair. She leaned out the window and peered what she could see of the neighborhood. Then she added: «—Hpmh... what a Riffraff goes to the church!—». She expressed it refering to her neighbor. The one who lives in front of her and the one she hates the most without a fair reason. Also she said it because of a man who was passing, because of a young girl and for all the people who went to the church that day. Criticizing them wasn't enough, she had to complain about the priest's job, the hands-out and the love. She hated that the people wouldn't have been like her. She cursed to everyone. Suddenly she closed the window and postrated for praying.The paradoxes of a blessed5 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The Fall Hanging one hundredth of an inch away from the edge, I clutched the spool of tape tightly in my hands and looked up to the endless sky. I was so high up, I felt as if I was space walking. After finishing my job, I began to scramble towards the ladder. Peering up to sky once more, an insane question popped into my head as I began to lower myself down: Fall or Fly? I paused for a moment, my mind wandering from the task at hand. I remained there, my feet balanced precariously on the ladder, the rung bending slightly under my weight. It was foolish of me not to realise that the ladder slowly slipping further and further down the roof, and, such is life, something had to give. The ladder slipped from under me just as my foot was a few centimeters from the next rung. My hands flew out as I reached towards the sky light, in desperate hope of finding purchase.The Fall1 week ago in Short Stories More Like This
My fingertips clamped down onto the gutter, and I jolted to a halt. My feet banged against the window
His eyesMorning had come, a new day, a new life. She had been told a new environment would make everything better. She carried her entire life inside her 10X10 cardboard box inside the white washed crumbling brick house.His eyes2 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
“Go explore sweetie, while I finish unpacking the car.” Her mother said in her sweet sticky voice, when trying to cover a bad situation. Delila looked at her, head cocked sideways, wondering how this person seam so normal right now after what had happened.
She placed her fingers onto the flaking walls of the house, it seemed as snow was coming down from the walls. Fingers traced the small cracks and crevices found around the houses face, showing its own sign of years of abuse. During her inspection she passes by a window, never looking up, still too frightened of what she might see, and too frightened of seeing “him”. Delila didn’t want to see ‘his’ green dark eyes staring back at her; it has been so long ago. She may appe
The SkunkThe skunkThe Skunk4 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
(Dear reader. I'm a french writer of ABDL stories (23 tales) and this is my first try translating one of my stories in english. I have a degree in international logistics and my english is not too bad, but I surely made mistakes with the syntax. So please, if someone has the goodwill of correcting my mistakes, do not hesitate to send me a message.)
The story you are going to read, is true. It tells how I became ABDL. Only the names and the places have been changed. This story is not only a part of my life, but also the story of a friend, a girl who suffered from the same pain, a real trauma that we've been through by seperate ways.
My name is Jeff and I was born in 1984 in a the small village of “la Truffe” (the french word for a truffle, but also for a dog nose), only 300 inhabitants lost in a deep countryside. The first years of my life are not really interesting. I lived a boring baby's life, caught between a brusque father whose hands were as hard
Describe Heaven I woke up to the smell of cleaning products and vomit. I sat straight in the chair I’d fallen asleep in and stared at my mother lying in the most depressing hospital bed I’ve ever seen. She was pale and weak. She had some grey leftover vomit on her chin and the bucket on her lap was almost filled. I stood up to press the button for the nurse and put my hand on my mother’s head. I gently caressed the last tufts of hair she had left to comfort her.Describe Heaven3 days ago in Short Stories More Like This
The petit nurse came in and cleaned up my mother. I could tell by the way my mother was looking at me she was embarrassed and morose. The little blonde nurse left the room and my mother’s tears started to fall. She put her frail hands over her face and sobbed. The sound of my mother in such agony was heart breaking.
I scooted my chair closer to her bed and took her hands away from her face to hold. I’d ask her what’s wrong but that would be a really stupid and insens