Stew was a typical guy. Video games, music, most generic things people enjoy doing. Bored on his computer one day he checked his email. He noticed one that stuck out, with the subject "Change things up!" With his curiosity spiked, he clicked to find a questionnaire on it. Bored enough, he decided to answer the questions for fun and send it over. He looked over it noticing it to be a rather strange one involving being a girl. He still went through with it and printed it out to answer it.
Question 1: If you were a girl... would your handwriting be nice?
"Yes, I'd only write cursive" Stew wrote, not noticing his fingers becoming elegant and dainty with his arms becoming slender and losing muscle.
Question 2: If you were a girl... would you like pink?
"Yes, but it's not my favorite color." he wrote, as his legs lost muscle and took on feminine proportions, as he wrote exclusive in cursive and neater.
I have to do something. I have to I have to remove it? That doesn't make sense. I have to open my eyes? I don't want to. There's cold rock when I reach out; rough textures and cool metals, and horrid pain. The constant fear of being stabbed.
I don't want to open my eyes.
But I can't remember why.
It's hard to think about it; I don't want to think about it. There's a memory beneath the surface, but it scares me. I don't want to reach for it. I want to run away. I don't know where to run to. I have to get away.
It feels so hard to think.
There are things around me. These these things. These things I can't seem to name. They're sharp and pretty, but they hurt soooo bad. I have to name them. If I can't name them, I might not be able to avoid them; they might hurt m
"Finally *Pant* lost them..."He mumbled to self, before hiding in a dumpster, as the police car raced by. A full 7 minutes past, and he climbed out, and rushed home. As soon as he arrived home, which looked very run down, he walked into his living room,and crashed onto the couch.
"What a day."
He says, pulling out the black box, and opened it, showing a big, beautiful and shiny ruby. He held it in his palms, and sat it onto a shelf. His stomach than growled.
"Man, robbery is such a workout. Wonder what I got." He looks in his fridge, and didn't really find anything that good to eat. He heads back into the living room, and ac
"That's not very nice, you know." Vorhias froze, the gentle press of something vaguely cylindrical pressing between his shoulder blades. "Not that there's anything that says one has to be nice; it's often frowned upon in my line of business, in fact. But you could have at least thrown it out a few blocks further from where you got it."
"Who are you?" It was the only question that entered Vorhias head. He'd have thought there'd be a thousand questions in a situation like that, but only one was presenting itself. It was an unfortunately stupid question, though; As if someone with a gun was going to calmly announce who he was.
"I I don't I don't have your homework today, Jace," he whimpered, the voice grating on his ears. He ground his fist deeper into the locker, taking the pain in return for the look of stark terror on Willy's face as he let out another grin.
"You don't have my papers, huh? Guess you only did enough homework
"Sonikku!~" The pink hedgehog cries.
"Amy, leave me alone!" Sonic yelled at Amy.
Amy than tripped over a rock and felled face first into some mud. Sonic doesn't notice and continued to run, until Amy couldn't see him anymore.
"Sonic..." She begins to tear up, before crying completely. "Why doesn't he love me?"
"...You really want to know?" A mysterious voice, yet it was easily feminine. Amy looked at the shadowy figure. "Sonic's what 18? And you're 12."
"So?" Amy said.
"Think about it. If Sonic married you while you are 12...It'll make him look creepy marrying a little girl." She said.
Amy was about to object, when she realized it. "You're right..." Amy began tearing up, before out right crying.
The figure approached her, with the figure of a wolf or fox. "I will help you..."
My scream echoed throughout the abandoned city. I turned down and s
Survivors of the Bimbo Virus, Part Two
For a second, he froze. Where was he?
Looking around, he saw a bare ceiling, no lights hanging from it, nothing to hint a location. The walls had a mirror, a bookshelf, and a movie poster for the Dawn of the Dead remake but nothing Jason could recognize.
Then, he remembered. He remembered Derek, his fallen comrade, and the hordes of bimbos running down the maze of streets that was suburbia, remembered the signs proclaiming salvation for any survivors. Jason froze. He remembered the bimbo walking out of the house. He held his breath in his lungs. If he was in the same house there might be a bimbo.
He looked around the room, searching for anything that might aid to his defense. Strangely enough, he was wearing the same clothes, and his supplies were placed neatly by the bed. Looking into the mirror, Jason breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't a bimbo, which meant he still had a
So if you don't like any of the above, go find something else to read
The TGF Writer
My life was a normal one.
I went to college.
I had two parents and a younger brother.
I even had a couple girlfriends.
And it would have remained normal.
If I hadn't found that notebook.
A notebook that gave me the power to change the world.
It was a hot summer day, I was going to my last exam, and was ready to spend the whole summer vacation as fully as my low funds could afford.
Ending the exam half an hour before anyone else, I had the opportunity to get out of the class and into the empty corridor with a broad smile in my face; not only was I sure I had aced the test, but even if I hadn't, my grades would assure I wouldn't have to go to reparation exams.
Meaning I was free to do as I desired till September.
As I wal