<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Flyer on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/flyer/</link><description>Recent content in Flyer on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 07 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/flyer/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Suit</title><link>/stories/2017/10/07/the-suit/</link><pubDate>Sat, 07 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/10/07/the-suit/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Story Submitted By Flyer - &lt;a href="mailto:flyer@lightspeed.net"&gt;flyer@lightspeed.net&lt;/a&gt; -
Please e-mail any comments you may have to the author&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&amp;ldquo;O.K., sign here, here, and here,&amp;rdquo; said the payroll
clerk.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I signed my name to a stack of paperwork in front of me. As
if I had a choice. I had been in the military for 3 years. I lived off post,
so as to hide my fetish. I loved rubber. Even on my small military
pay, I was able to mass a good size collection of masks, helmets, suits,
and the like. However on an unannounced inspection of my off-base housing,
I was found out. Even though I&amp;rsquo;m straight, I was on my way to a dishonorable discharge under the &amp;ldquo;Don&amp;rsquo;t Ask, Don&amp;rsquo;t Tell&amp;rdquo; policy.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Transformation of Julie 2</title><link>/stories/2015/04/15/transformation-of-julie-2/</link><pubDate>Wed, 15 Apr 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/04/15/transformation-of-julie-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="transformationofjulie.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Julie started to slowly wake up. She was very relaxed, like she had gotten a long, hard sleep in. Then Julie’s brain started to click. This was not her bed, and there was somebody lying next to her. She flew out of bed. Julie could not turn her head at all. She tried to yell out, but her mouth was filled with some sort of full mouth gag. Julie stumbled as her feet hit the floor.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Transformation of Julie</title><link>/stories/2015/01/08/transformation-of-julie/</link><pubDate>Thu, 08 Jan 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/01/08/transformation-of-julie/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Julie rode the old cargo elevator to the 4th floor of the old factory building. When the elevator stopped, Julie opened to doors to the elevator, revealing a second, standard door that you would find at the entrance to any house or apartment. Julie opened the door to the 3500 square foot loft and shoved her way inside. It was approaching 11:00 pm. Once inside she went over to the thermostat and turned it up a little. Being February in New York City, it was cold inside the loft. “I have to buy a programmable thermostat for days like this,” Julie thought. Normally Julie would crank up the temp up into the 70’s, but for what she was going to do, she wanted the place to stay cool.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>