Burt blushed as he stared at the clown’s painted tits. “You guys have to be kidding me.” He looked around at his gathered friends expecting them to start laughing. Instead, they just kept their shit-eating grins. He looked back down at the flyer. ‘Ms. Merry Weather’s Clown Harem’, it read. “I mean her name’s too close to our English teacher. Doesn’t that bother you?” “Dude, you’ve seen Ms. Merriweather’s rack,” Trevor noted. ...
Lucy was about to go for her daily run, she loved wearing the tight spandex shorts and sports bra that showed how well she kept her body firm. She also liked how all the guys stopped to stare and even whistled sometimes making her feel sexy. As she went to get her running shoes she spotted her favorite high heels, these were her special time shoes she only wore them when she was alone and stringently bound. She loved the super high heels that forced her to walk on the balls of her feet and the thick platforms that made her not feel quite so short. Lucy was five foot tall and had been wearing high heels since she was old enough to ask for them. As she stared at the ridiculously high heels she changed her mind deciding to restrain herself and get her work out that way instead of running. ...
Copyright © 2015 AmyAmy and all that stuff. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced for profit or without this attribution. The building broods where the cloverleaf junction meets the railway tracks, squat and massive, dominating the crossroads. Its position no coincidence, at the conflux of concrete and steel, where the ghosts of murderers cannot find their way back to take their revenge. Up where the warehouses cower beneath screaming graffiti and vast pillars carry the arcs of the highway far overhead, where waste-grounds of abandoned development projects give way to weeds and squatter camps, the building hefts and spreads its tentacles. ...