<?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>Wet on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/wet/</link><description>Recent content in Wet on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 10 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/wet/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Gag Sentence</title><link>/stories/2018/12/10/gag-sentence/</link><pubDate>Mon, 10 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/12/10/gag-sentence/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continues from &lt;a href="gagsentence2.html"&gt;part two&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 3&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;After my second day of my sentence I was so much pain that sleep was nearly impossible. I needed sleep desperately to put an end to the constant pain I was in. My shoulders and my jaw were an unending throbbing pain. I could barely move my jaw at all and my arms were almost useless.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I had laid on the tiny mattress trying fall asleep but the pain and memories of the previous day of agony kept me awake most of the night. Unaware of time, all I had was a timer that read all zeros, and then the door swung open startling me from my haze.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Trip To The Chocolate Factory</title><link>/stories/2017/05/04/trip-to-the-chocolate-factory/</link><pubDate>Thu, 04 May 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/05/04/trip-to-the-chocolate-factory/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;After winning some tickets online, you were on a tour, with a couple of other people, going around a huge chocolate factory that was fully automated, even the robot tour guide that was now leading you past a large glass window looking down on the factory floor and you can see all the conveyors and tanks and machines, it looked like something out of HOP and you also notice an unlocked door next to the window and this tour was far too boring.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Waiting is the Hardest Part</title><link>/stories/2017/04/02/the-waiting-is-the-hardest-part/</link><pubDate>Sun, 02 Apr 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/04/02/the-waiting-is-the-hardest-part/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;“Here we are, girl.”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Jessie obeyed the tug of the reins and slowed down as she turned into the driveway. The petite, golden-haired ponygirl had been trained mercilessly, and now reacted instinctively to any commands, her long mane and full breasts bouncing in unison as she pulled her Master’s cart along the suburban streets. Fortunately, it was a gated community, so not many strangers saw her in her condition. Also fortunate was that community standards required that she wear at least a non-revealing bra and full-coverage panty girdle.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>