<?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>Iron-Lung on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/iron-lung/</link><description>Recent content in Iron-Lung on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 18 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/iron-lung/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Retro Iron</title><link>/stories/2025/10/18/retro-iron/</link><pubDate>Sat, 18 Oct 2025 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2025/10/18/retro-iron/</guid><description>&lt;h4 id="take-it-to-the-limit"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Take It to the Limit&lt;/strong&gt;*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/h4&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;She sat on the couch, provocatively crossing her long legs below her short skirt. I am old-fashioned in some ways so I didn’t approve, though being a slave to male instinct I kept my eyes on her anyway. She’d come to me with another one of her wild ideas. This one was, potentially, far more dangerous than the escapade of being half buried in the ground with the concrete slabs.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>