<?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>Tests on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/tests/</link><description>Recent content in Tests on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/tests/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Summer at Pond Cove</title><link>/stories/2018/04/03/summer-at-pond-cove/</link><pubDate>Tue, 03 Apr 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/04/03/summer-at-pond-cove/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =&lt;/em&gt;
&lt;em&gt;Walter gets to better know his summer neighbors at Pond Cove.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;In Chapter One, Walter met his summer neighbors at Pond Cove, a secluded area surrounded by a government nature preserve. By the end of the day, he had lost his clothes, his pride, and his virginity.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;In Chapter Two, Walter continues telling the story of his Summer at Pond Cove. He finds out for certain that he is a pain slut, and is officially given the name of “weird worm” at the feet of his new Mistress&amp;hellip; Mistress Gloria.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>First Contact</title><link>/stories/2018/02/21/first-contact/</link><pubDate>Wed, 21 Feb 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/02/21/first-contact/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The collar and blinders limit your field of view. You cannot see the entirety of the craft.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It stretches out of eyesight, but it appears to be one single chamber. The side that your feet stretch towards is “down,” for you, and farther down appears to grow larger and wider. “Up,” the side which your head points toward, tapers off. The entire room seems vaguely cone-shaped, but only vaguely. Incomprehensible designs seem to take up what little “wall” space is not used by other receptacles.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Border Crossing</title><link>/stories/2017/08/03/border-crossing/</link><pubDate>Thu, 03 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/08/03/border-crossing/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The 18-wheeler pulled up to the customs booth, and the customs agent stepped out and called up to the driver.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“What’s your load?”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Ponygirls,” growled the burly, bearded driver with the Bettie Page tattoo.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Pull into the inspection station, please.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The driver nodded and maneuvered his truck over to the designated area. He shut off the engine and stepped out. As a seasoned trucker, he knew the routine—he handed the binder full of forms to the agent and dug out the keys to open the back.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Jane's Toy</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/janes-toy/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/janes-toy/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;ONE&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jane woke slowly&amp;hellip;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;It was warm in her bedroom, luxurious and comforting.  She simply laid there, coming awake and letting her eyes focus on her surroundings; the rich, dark paneling of her walls, the expensive prints and pastels framed for her pleasure, the old, sturdy furniture of the dresser and vanity, the wardrobe that she loved so much.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;She could smell coffee percolating in the kitchen, barely, over the smells of bacon and eggs.  Jane smiled, glad that Cook was single, with no family near.  Her mouth watered, anticipating breakfast.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>