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The first part of a new series about a young woman's opportunity to find what it is she really wants. If you like this, then consider checking out some of my other work at https://www.deviantart.com/iod9963. Part I “Hey, Cass! Dad wants to know if you’re ready for dinner?” Cassie looked up from the box she’d been searching—full of junk, like everything else in the attic—and saw an unruly mop of dark hair sticking out of the trap door. Her younger brother Jake, always so full of energy, was practically bouncing on the ladder. “I thought she’d never ask,” Cassie said, standing up as she stretched out her back. “Lead the way, Jake.” Jake practically ran down the steps in his haste. “She’s coming, Dad!” Cassie heard him call. “Order the pizza!” Moving more slowly than her younger brother, Cassie took the time to raise the ladder and close the trap door before she followed Jake down the stairs. She heard Jake burst into the kitchen, but she instead turned towards her late grandfather’s study. The room was still a mess, with less than a third of its contents boxed up. Cassie sighed. “I told you to let me handle this,” she said to her mother, though she didn’t seem to hear. Winnifred was sitting behind the large oak desk, toying with a fist-sized orb made of some dark red stone. Cassie rolled her eyes and planted her fists on the desktop. “Mom. Mom!” The older woman started as though taken by surprise, her eyes slowly focusing on her daughter. “Wh…what did you say?” Cassie sighed again. “I said you should have let me handle Grandpa’s office.” She gestured around the room. “I got most of the attic done, while you’ve barely scratched the surface in here.” Winnifred shook her head. “I need to do this, Cassie. My dad, he…” She started blinking furiously as her eyes grew moist. Cassie held up a staying hand. “It’s okay, Mom. I know.” “There’s a lot of memories in this room,” she said softly, more to herself. Smiling, Cassie sat down on the edge of the desk—her usual spot in the office. “Tell me about them,” she said. “Like that.” She pointed to the stone next to her mother’s hand. “What’s the real story behind that thing?” “What? Your grandfather never told you?” “He told me something about an expedition to Marrakesh,” Cassie smiled. “I believed him when I was a kid, but the older I got, the sketchier it seemed.” “You’d be surprised,” Winnifred said. “Dad went everywhere taking photographs, though not as much after Mom died.” She suddenly squeezed her eyes shut. It was several long moments before she continued, and then her voice sounded strained. “But you know your grandfather. Always teasing.” Winnifred smiled wistfully. “You know, I saw something like this at a tourist trap in Phoenix when your father and I went there a few years ago. Dad’s smile looked so…guilty, but he still insisted on the Marrakesh story.” “He was a character,” Cassie said. “Yes, he was,” Winnifred said, chuckling softly. Cassie couldn’t help but smile. It was the first time she’d heard her mother laugh since before the hospital. “I am going to miss him.” “Me, too,” Cassie agreed. Winnifred gave her daughter a watery smile. “Thank you, Cassie,” she said. “For what?” “For reminding me that other people loved my dad as much as I did.” With a sigh, she pushed herself out of the desk chair and straightened. “So, why don’t you see what you can do in here, and I’ll go pick up dinner with Jake?” Cassie nodded encouragingly. “I think that’s a good idea, Mom. You could use some fresh air.” Winnifred said nothing, giving her daughter a pat on the cheek as she came out from behind the desk and walked out the door. Cassie watched her go, then crossed behind the desk to take her place in the now vacant chair. The worn leather felt warm to the touch and the seat creaked softly as she sat down, but she barely noticed any of it. She was lost in a wave of memory as she sank back into the chair, breathing deep the scents of musk cologne and old paper—her grandfather’s smell. It almost made her feel like a little girl again, sitting at his feet and coloring while he’d pored over his work. “Find anything interesting?” a deep, rumbling voice said. Cassie jumped, her eyes opening to find the imposing figure of her father Jonathan standing on the other side of the desk. He was a large man—solid and well-built, though with a paunch. His customary grin, baring just a hint of his teeth, was plastered across his face. “Geez, Dad. You scared me!” “Sorry, kid,” he said, pulling a chair over from the edge of the room. He sat down gingerly, though it still creaked ominously beneath his bulk. Once he was settled, he gave her an encouraging smile. “So…find anything interesting?” he asked again. “Not really,” Cassie said. “Attic was a bust. Is Mom gone yet?” “A few minutes ago. I’m glad she went. She needs to get out of here, even if only for a little while.” “Yeah,” Cassie nodded. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now.” “It can’t be easy,” John agreed. “I remember what it was like when my dad died, though we weren’t nearly as close as your grandpa and your mom are…I mean, were.” His smile faltered, though he managed to get it back in place quickly enough. “Anyway, I think it’s time we had a talk.” Cassie narrowed her eyes. “About what?” she asked suspiciously. “College.” Her cheeks grew hot. “Uh…what about it?” “Are you serious right now?” he asked. “You didn’t think I’d find out?” She gave him a guilty smile. “I guess I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t?” Her father dropped his smile. “Sorry,” she said meekly. “Why are you dropping out?” he asked. “I don’t know. I guess…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t think it’s for me anymore.” John growled dangerously under his breath. “Cassandra West, that is the absolute wrong answer. You are one year away from graduation, and you’re pulling the plug? All because you don’t think it’s for you anymore?” “Well, I also applied for a job,” she said. “Good pay, and they didn’t care about a degree.” “And did you get it?” “Uh…no.” “You at least had an interview before you dropped out, right?” “Well…” John sighed. “Look, Cass, I know the last few years have been hard. Your boyfriend.” “I dumped him,” she said. “Allison,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. “That wasn’t my fault.” “And how many times have you switched your major?” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad. I just want to find the right thing for me.” “That’s the problem, Cass. You keep looking for the ‘right thing’, but I’m worried you keep moving further and further from what you want.” Cassie scowled. “I’ll know what I want when I find it, Dad!” she said angrily. “I promise." For a moment—just a moment—Cassie felt something flash warm under her fingers. Looking down, she realized her fingers were resting on the stone orb her grandfather had kept on his desk, the one he’d claimed had come from Marrakesh. It was cool to the touch. Whatever she’d felt, it must have been her imagination. “You okay, Cass?” her dad asked, looking concerned. “I’m fine,” she told him. “I just…I think I need to go lie down for a while.” She got out of her grandfather’s chair and started walking towards the door. “Wait. What about dinner?” “I’m not hungry.” * * * * * Cassie ran, her arms pumping, her legs throbbing. Her lungs burned within her chest as she struggled to suck in a breath. She didn’t understand where she was or what she was doing. The last thing she’d remembered had been lying down in the spare bedroom, and… “Run, Cassie!” a woman screamed. “Don’t give up now! You’re in the lead!” Cassie looked over and saw an older woman that she recognized, though she didn’t remember who it was. The woman kept waving her hand, encouraging Cassie to run. Gritting her teeth, Cassie focused on a point ahead of her and picked up the pace. The world seemed to fill in around her as she moved. Beneath her feet, Cassie felt the textured surface of a track. There was grass to one side of her, while on the other was rising set of bleachers filled with cheering people. Above her was blue sky, with white clouds scudding across it like ships. The stadium, she realized, finally recognizing her surroundings. Cassie spared a glance downward and saw something familiar—a stylized top and loose shorts. It was a uniform; the same one she’d worn as a member of her high school track team. Of course, I’m wearing my track uniform, she thought incredulously. I’m at a track meet! What else would I be wearing? It wasn’t just a track meet; it was the first of her senior year. Cassie had been ambivalent towards participating this year, but had ultimately decided to give it a try. And if she really was in the lead… Keep running, Cassie! she thought to herself, echoing the woman she recognized but did not know. Don’t give up now! There was no one ahead of her on the track. A brief twist of her neck showed her several people coming up quickly on her left. They wanted to win, and we’re going all out to make sure they did. But Cassie’s spirit was up, and she wasn’t going to let them beat her. Keep running! Don’t give up now! She followed the curve of the track, maintaining her lead over the other competitors. Her heart thundered in her ears, eclipsing the cheers from the crowd. Cassie let a smile slip onto her lips. One more turn, and then the homestretch. She could practically taste victory. Cassie took one step, then another, then another. It felt off the moment she put her foot down, and the world seemed to slow as it slid out from underneath her. She went sprawling, throwing out her hands to cushion the fall she knew was coming, but it wasn’t enough to stop her momentum. She hit the ground with a thud, the impact driving all the air from her as she rolled along the ground. Somewhere in the midst of her motion, she felt more than heard a crack in her wrist, followed by another in her lower leg. When she finally came to a stop, eyes to the sky, they were both starting to throb. Pain was on the way, horrific and intense in a way she’d never known before. Mercifully, the blackness took her first. * * * * * Cassie jolted awake, her chest heaving as though she actually had been running. She could feel a dull ache in her wrist and ankle, but both pains were already fading to nothing. It was just a dream, she told herself. Only a dream. But even as she tried to convince herself, she knew there was more to it than that. It had been real once, or at least, a version of it had been real. Closing her eyes, Cassie could picture it in her mind. The day had been warm, the last vestiges of summer clinging into autumn. It had been the first track meet of her senior year, though she’d been less excited about it than previous season. Her enthusiasm had started to wane after she turned 18, falling to a level where she’d almost decided to quit. In fact, if not for her injury, she probably… Wait! What injury? Cassie snapped her eyes open, thoughts whirling as she tried sorting through the jumble of memories. She distinctly remembered scraping a win in that meet, despite her growing dissatisfaction with running. She’d even gone on to make state that year, if just barely. It had been the best season of her high school career, though that wasn’t really saying much compared to her previous years. But there was another part of her that remember going down hard, breaking both her wrist and ankle. She’d sported double casts for months as her body had been slow to heal. While frustrated at first due to her restricted mobility, she’d soon grown used to her limitations. Even enjoying them. Plus, it had been a convenient way to get out of track without disappointing anyone. Cassie shook her head, but to no avail. Nothing changed. The two sets of memories existed side-by-side in her brain, and she was certain each of them was real. But that was impossible—only one of them could have happened. Right? A sudden knock on the door startled Cassie from her reverie. She reflexively jerked the covers up to her chin. “Uh, yeah?” she called. “Time to get moving, Cass,” her father said, his voice a deep rumble that almost seemed to vibrate the wood. “I’m making breakfast, and then we’ve got to get over to your grandfather’s house. Okay?” She groaned softly. “Alright, alright. I’m getting up.” Seemingly satisfied with the response, Cassie heard her father’s heavy footsteps leading away from her bedroom. Yawning, she pushed back the covers and started maneuvering herself into a sitting position. It was difficult, her movements awkward and uncoordinated. Grunting with the effort, Cassie pushed herself to her feet, muscles protesting the effort. Oh, man, she thought. Yesterday must have really taken it out of me. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Yawning again, she picked her way towards her closet, carefully threading her way through the clothes scattered across her floor. Her hand was just reaching for the knob when she paused. How did I get home? Cassie stood like a statue, trying to remember anything from the previous day that would explain why she was in her own bedroom. She remembered the attic, the conversation with her dad, then going to lie down in one of the spare rooms. After that… I…I guess I was just really tired and don’t remember. She nodded to herself. Yeah, that must be it. Though not entirely satisfactory, it was enough in the moment. She pulled her closet open and began looking for something to wear. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see herself reflected in the mirror hung on the inside of closet door. Something about it bothered her. She started to turn her head to check, but something—an unaccountable fear—held her back. Don’t be ridiculous, Cassie, she scolded herself. What’s gotten into you? With an effort, Cassie broke through her paralysis and turned her head. What she saw was herself, the same reflection she always saw. She started to laugh, wondering why she’d been so worried in the first place. That’s when she saw it: the bulge at her midsection, distending what should have been a flat surface. It was stressing the t-shirt she’d worn to bed, pushing it up slightly to reveal a sliver of pale flesh overhanging the strained waistband of her sleeping shorts. Mouth dropping open, Cassie poked it with a finger. It was soft and malleable, the first join of her finger easily disappearing. “What the…?”

Who plays magic??? what deck is your go to??

Content Warning: Magic, weight changes, gender changes, mental changes, and clowns (eugh) It’s time, Brittany thought, grinning to herself maliciously. She ran her fingers over the tickets she’d spent all day at the fair trying to get, sweating with nervous anticipation. This was it. While her friends were still preoccupied, she took a deep breath and did her best to suppress her excitement before looking back at them. Logically, they shouldn’t have any reason to think she was hiding something, but it was better safe than sorry. She needed them to do this with her. As always, she watched her childhood friend Sophia laughing and playfully flirting with her boyfriend, Jayden, with a tinge of jealousy, followed soon by guilt. Even more so than usual. But she quickly quashed them both. Calm down. We’re just doing this for fun, she told herself. After all, it was just a rumor. There’s no telling if it’s true. Having convinced herself for now, she put on the most innocent smile she could muster without it feeling forced and ran over to her friends, who were currently busying themselves with a game of ring toss. Unsurprisingly, Jayden was fairing the best, being the most athletic of the trio with a long reach to boot. Brittany watched and waited from the sidelines, planning to approach them when they were finished. Ultimately, even with they’re combined efforts, they only managed to win a keychain with a weird looking cat on the end. “This carnival is weird.” Jayden said, examining the cat’s comically frightened expression. “Well, it’s really all about the game, anyway. Nobody really plays them for the prizes.” Sophia replied with a shrug. “So, you guys are done with the booths for now?” “I guess. Why, did you want go stand in line for the rides again or something?” “Something like that. Here.” Brittany handed each of them one of the purple tickets she was previously clutching in her fist. Jayden held it up curiously, trying to read it in the blinking lights of the carnival booths. “What’s this for?” “It’s for a special attraction I heard about at the back of the fair. I wanna go and check it out with you guys, so I bought us some tickets.” “Special attraction? Like a magic show?” Sophia said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t wanna spoil the surprise. You’ll go with me though, right?” Jayden and Sophia shared a glance before shrugging. “Sure, I don’t see why not.” Sophia replied with a smile. “Yes!” Brittany exclaimed with a genuinely excited fist pump. Sophia giggled in response while Jayden suppressed a sigh as they followed the excited girl down the street lined with booths to their destination. Jayden couldn’t help but acknowledge how the shorter girl was practically skipping with giddiness, a sight made all the more ridiculous by her physique. His girlfriend’s bestie was a chubby, pear shaped girl with dark brown hair she kept in a neat bob that did little to hide her round face and massive, childlike eyes. Her large hips and portly thighs were well contained by a set of jean shorts and black leggings that fit snuggly enough not to hike down, as well a jean vest and an orange shirt with horizontal black stripes, which as one would expect, only further accentuated her girth. Despite this, she’d been running around all night, from booth to booth, ride to ride, and still somehow had energy to spare. If it weren’t for that appetite of hers, she’d probably be in better shape than Sophia, he mused. On that note, as the leader of their party bounded down the road, Jayden looked down at his date giggling next to him with a familiar discomfort. Once again, Sophia appeared to be blind to the obvious. Jayden sighed, once again electing to bring it up later. Brittany was having fun for now. He could at least wait until they weren’t in public. Immediately upon looking ahead, Brittany stopped. They were here. Ahead of them was a large purple circus tent, embroidered with blue and gold stars. Above the entrance hung a sign, illuminated by a set of flood lights at the bottom, with a sinister looking clown on top: “Helga’s Haunted Hall of Mirrors”. To the right of the entrance was a small booth, manned by a very bored looking female clown reading a newspaper. “Is this a new attraction? I don’t remember this thing being here last year…” Jayden commented, looking at the sign’s evil-looking white eyes with suspicion. “This isn’t some kind of haunted house, is it? You know I can’t handle those, Bee.” Sophia muttered nervously. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’ll have me and Jayden to protect you. Besides, I heard this was supposed to be more cool than scary. It’s got like, ‘state of the art effects’.” Brittany said reassuringly, already trotting backwards over to the booth. Upon hearing their voices, the clown inside the booth looked up from her paper with surprise, noticing she had customers. “Oh! Hello folks. You here try out our hall of mirrors?” She said, sounding genuinely flustered. “Yep. Here’s my ticket.” The clown pinched the ticket between her the thumb and forefingers of her gloved hand, which just so happened to only have four digits in total. Jayden could tell, based off how her fingers flexed, that she’d shoved two of them into the middle slot. She looked more or less like the rest of the employees they’d encountered at the fair so far, albeit with clown makeup on. She wore the same red vest as the rest of the employees, along with a set of black trousers held up by yellow suspenders, a red nose, and floppy red shoes visible with her right leg crossed over the other. Her ginger toned hair was tied back into a pony tail with a tiny black bowler hat balanced on her head to complete the look. “Looks good to me.” She said finally. “Hand me your tickets and you can go on in. But you’ve gotta go in one at a time, and no running. Can’t have you breaking the mirrors.” “Why do we need to go in one at a time?” Sophia said nervously. “It’s supposed to be more fun that way. At least that’s what the boss said.” “I’m assuming that’s Helga?” Jayden asked with curiosity. “Yep. She’s the one who designed this place for the fair.” “So this is a new attraction, right? Where’s the line? You’d think there’d be more people…” “Yeah, one of the customers earlier mentioned that. Something about the tickets being hard to find… not really my problem, though. I still get paid either way, so…” “Fair enough.” “You guys coming, or what?” Brittany yelled back, already passing through the tent. “Wait up! *sigh* we’re just going to go in together. Is that a problem?” “Nope, not to me at least.” The clown replied, taking their tickets. “Have fun.” With a nod and girlfriend in tow, Jayden followed Brittany inside, feeling Sophia squish up against him as the darkness of the tent inside washed over them. They were in some sort of tunnel where, up ahead, he could see yellow light pouring in through the closed flaps of a fabric door a few feet ahead, and he could faintly make out Brittany’s excited squeals. For just a moment, Sophia let go of Jayden long enough for him to part the entrance, blinding her with the surprisingly harsh light on the other side. That’s why it was only after she passed through the entrance herself that she realized she was alone.

Hi all, My second story, hope you enjoy. Fair warning - this story contains brother-sister elements throughout. Chapter 1: The Storm ‘Escape to Jamaica, the Heartbeat of the World...’. Tom regarded the colourful billboard across the street with silent distain. A suspiciously attractive couple smile back at him through two sets of perfect white teeth. Overflowing glasses of what appeared to be fruit punch chink together merrily in the foreground, whilst behind a tropical paradise of sun, sand, and sea faded into the horizon. He’d not managed a foreign holiday in three long years. Money had been unpleasantly tight ever since his dad had left home. The revelation of his father’s longstanding affair had rocked the previously strong family unit, and in a matter of days Tom had been unwillingly promoted from firstborn son to ‘man of the house’. With that came a burden to support his stay-at-home mother, and now the majority of his meagre pay-packet was spent simply keeping the lights on in their grim South London council house. His mum was a kind but simple woman. A dazzling beauty in her day, she’d been swept off her feet by his wheeler-dealer dad and settled down by the tender age of 20. Lacking any useful qualifications she’d focused instead on making a home for her family whilst her husband worked a local market stall. Tom came first, then his sister Penelope two years later. Their childhood, at least what he could remember of it, had been perfectly happy. Then his dad left and everything changed. His mother had turned to the fridge for comfort, and grown fat as she consoled herself with cake. More often than not he would come home from a long and tiring shift at the local fast food establishment to find her plopped on the couch waiting expectantly for him to present her with the day’s leftover food, which they ate together for dinner most nights. Her good looks had quickly been swallowed up by the encroaching blubber. His sister had taken a different approach, becoming ever more distant and sullen through her formative teenage years. Now aged 18 she had all of mother’s former beauty but none of her kindness, and was generally a dark cloud over the household whenever she was home. A crash of thunder rumbles high above. Tom looks up just in time for the first fat rain drop to land squarely between his eyes. He blinks stupidly and curses under his breath, “brilliant, bloody brilliant...”. If he hadn’t stopped to stare at that damn poster he’d be sheltering at the bus stop by now. He sets off hurriedly, arriving two minutes later drenched through from head to toe. His trainers squelch awkwardly underfoot as he finally steps out of the rain, which even now appeared to be turning to hail. The thin grey hoodie he’d donned that morning clung to his body, accentuating the generous curve of his potbelly. The storm had come out of nowhere, and he certainly wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Tom pants to catch his breath. He knew he was out of shape, but even so was surprised at quite how much of a struggle that short jog had been. Perhaps a few too many greasy leftovers taken home following his shifts at the local McDonalds? He resolved to eat better in the future. Tom hated being overweight, but lacked the willpower to do anything about it. He’d resigned himself to always being a hopeless fatty, Open on three sides and covered above by a thin plastic roof, the bus stop certainly wasn’t a perfect protection from the elements. The howling winds stung as they whipped across his face. Tom shrugged off his backpack and settled himself on one of two small plastic seats against the shelter’s single wall. ‘125 to Southfields - 7 minutes’ confirmed the digital display affixed to the roof. A small mercy, he thought, at least he hadn’t missed his ride home. ‘Thud’, ‘thud’, ‘thud’. The pounding on the roof intensifies, interspersed with deep rumbles of thunder. Hail stones as large as marbles smash into the pavement all around. What was going on with this weather? A shadow looms to his left. Squinting through the haze he sees a figure approaching. A large black umbrella quivers in the wind, obscuring its holder from view. As the new arrival reaches the threshold of the bus stop a particularly fierce gust rips the umbrella from their grasp and carries it off into the distance. The umbrella’s former owner is a young woman, in her late 20s if Tom had to guess. A cascade of wavy red hair frames a pretty face. Or, he reconsiders, what would have probably been a pretty face were it not for the thick layer of chub surrounding it. This girl was chunky. Very chunky. A generous pair of tits rest atop a wobbly belly, poorly contained beneath a strained and sodden jumper. A greedy gut bulges over the waistband of her jeans, into which are packed two thunderous legs. Lumps and bumps of cellulite are visible through the tightly stretched fabric, like overstuffed sausages close to bursting their casing. Tom had never been into fatties, and if he had to guess this newcomer was at least 150 pounds north of good-looking. She catches his eye and breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “I thought for a minute I’d get blown away too!”. It would take gale force winds to lift that fat arse off the ground, Tom thinks, but he keeps this to himself and murmurs in agreement. The beached whale waddles towards the spare seat beside him. Tom’s eyes dart nervously to her bulbous thighs. He wonders if the cheap plastic seat will support her considerable heft. The bolts attaching it to the wall creak and groan as she gingerly sits down, but mercifully hold. A fat cheek overflows from her seat and presses into his thigh, soft and warm. They sit in silence for a minute or two, watching the storm steadily worsen from their modest shelter. Another rumble of thunder, this time from right beside him. Turning, Tom catches the woman’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment. Her belly gurgles again, loud and angry. “Sorry”, she mumbled bashfully, “I’m so hungry. Didn’t manage to grab lunch today. I feel a little feint...”. Loathe as he was to enable her evidently poor diet in the same way that he did with his mother’s, the idea of this behemoth feinting and collapsing onto him wasn’t exactly appealing either. He reached into his backpack and procured a brown McDonald’s bag containing that day’s leftovers. “Please”, he insisted, pressing it into her hands, “rather you than me. I’m trying to watch my weight”. He patted his belly, feeling it jiggle awkwardly for a moment afterwards. Relief washed over the woman’s cherubic face. “Oh, you’re too kind!”, she called back over the ever worsening winds. They exchanged names - hers was Jennifer. She peered into the bag and licked her plump lips greedily. Clearly her lardy arse approved of his unhealthy offering. Sausages fingers descend into the bag and reappear with a greasy burger in their grip. As Jennifer’s mouth opened wide a thick double chin grows a temporary third companion. Tom watched, transfixed, as she gobbled down the burger and then set to work on a dozen McNuggets. He thought he’d established the source of her obvious weight problem. If only this piggy had been waiting at the bus stop to snuffle down all the fast food he’d previously brought home, Tom considered. The extra padding insulating his middle would be around her own instead. Would she even notice another 30 pounds spread over her vast wobbling body? Somehow he doubted it. ‘Crash!’. A hail stone the size of a grapefruit smashed to the ground directly ahead. Tom wrenched his attention away from his grazing companion and watched aghast as the storm intensifies. The skies darken suddenly, reducing visibility even further. The dim glow emitted from the small digital display above quickly becoming their best and only light source. ‘Crack!’, the bus stop’s Plexiglas roof begins to splinter under the strain. Tom stands, pressing his back into the shelter. He felt the structure quivering ominously in the wind and wonders how long it will hold. A pudgy hand grasps his own. Looking down he sees Jennifer’s frightened face staring back at him, wide-eyed and helpless. The remaining nuggets have dropped to the floor, bouncing around as they are picked up by the wind. He calls out to her, but can’t hear his own voice over the drumbeat of wind against his ears. The last thing Tom remembered was a brilliant flash of lighting striking the ground just ahead of them. The forked burst of energy blasted him off his feet, slamming back into the shelter with a sickening crunch as the world fades to darkness...

This story is inspired by Batman76, Swahilimonkfish, and a true story ("based on a true story" -- like all those amazing movies). Chapter One “… so what I need to tell you is, we’re never going to date.” I stared at my crush like a deer in headlights. How are you supposed to answer that? “Never?” “Never, never, ever,” she replied as she pushed her fork through her mashed potatoes. Never once did she look at me. I should’ve known better. I really should’ve. But after a couple months of asking her out and her half-shod excuses for why she couldn’t go, I should’ve taken the hint. But I was getting desperate. I had no relationships – or friends for that matter. She slowly carried a fork-ful of mashed potatoes to her mouth with a graceful bend of her long, slender arm. Her arm was so beautiful and captivating – then again, wasn’t her whole body just as entrancing? She was just as tall as me, long and slender, clothed modestly in a soft but form-fitting green sweater and blue jeans. Bracelets and beads adorned both her wrists, and a necklace rested on her soft bosom without looking scandalous. From beneath a full head of straight, black hair, I could see her eyelashes fluttering over green pupils. She still wouldn’t look at me. “So… why?” I finally asked, ignoring my own food. “I’m not a bad person; I’d take care of you.” “But that’s just it,” she said slowly, piecing the words carefully together into sentences she’d probably rehearsed to herself all day. “You’re not supposed to love me.” “What?” “Loving anything in the world is wrong. The only person you’re supposed to love is God.” I felt a cold, invisible dagger pierce my heart. “What are you talking about? That’s crazy! God made everything around us – that’s why I love it so much.” “But it’s a sin, Jason,” my crush stared down at her food. “The world is finite and impure. Only God is eternal. That’s why you’re only supposed to love Him. You want a relationship with me because you long for me, but not God. That’s why it’ll never work.” She was nuts. Was this really my last shot at a relationship in this damn college? “That’s – that can’t be right. There’s no way you really believe that. What about your parents? Don’t they love each other? Don’t they love you?” “Yes, I get that, but they don’t love each other. They love each other… through God.” “Okay…” I tapped the edge of the table with my palms, glancing left and right at the other people in the chow hall, hoping we didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. “You know I’m one of the most religious people here, right? So I can do that too.” She shook her head softly, still staring down. “You think so, but no. You’re really smart Jason. Really smart. But even though you know God, you don’t have a relationship with Him.” “We’ve talked about this,” I tapped my foot anxiously. “I’m terrified of Him – for a lot of reasons. I’ve read Isaiah; I’ve read what He does on a whim. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a relationship with Him.” “But that’s why we’ll never go out and date. That’s why. Jason… you’re really smart. You can do anything if you set your mind to it, you know that?” “Uh huh. Yeah,” she was feeding me the same line every damned girl did at this damn college. I was so smart. But there was always some stupid reason they never wanted to get close to me. Was it because I wasn’t strong and buff? Was it my nerdy personality? Was it my social awkwardness? Who the fuck cared? It always ended the same way. “I know you’re going through a lot right now, but honestly, just give it some time and someday, somewhere, I know you will find the one God sends you to be with.” “Oh yeah,” I could feel my voice cracking. “I’ll just be sure to never love them, pray three times a day, and God will wave His magic wand and we’ll all be happily married with nine kids, right?” For the first time, she shyly looked up at me with her green eyes. She hesitantly reached a hand out to hold mine, but I shook my head, pushed my plate away, and stood up. “I’m sorry,” I said as I dodged her look. “I’m not hungry. I have to go.” “Do… do you want me to walk you home?” Was she fucking serious? “No, no… you’re fine Brandy. You’re alright…” I turned away from her and walked myself home. Hopefully, not too many people noticed the tears starting to slosh against my eyes. At “home” in my barren prison-cell of a dorm room, I turned my PC on and tried to play some Call of Duty to get my latest heartbreak off my mind. With barely any social life, gaming filled the woman-shaped hole in my heart better than anything. But not this time. Everything good in the world was grey. Turning off the game, I sighed and pulled out my Economics homework and turned-on my study playlist. By some damned twist of fate, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” started playing. When a lovely flame dies, smoke gets in your eyes. Fuck. What was I studying for? Why was I here? What was I thinking when I enrolled here at Biltmore College? Laughing through a fit of tears, I held my head and leaned against my desk. A women’s college opened-up to men as of two years ago. I thought I was so lucky when I was the only man who happened to do so. One man, twelve-hundred women, and somehow none were remotely interested in me. Oh, sure, I got lucky every once in a while – a nice conversation, good vibes, potential for something more – and then there was always a reason why it never worked. “I like you as a friend,” “I have a boyfriend back home,” “I like girls,” or “you’ll never understand; you’re a heterosexual white male.” I’d heard it all by now – and every time they’d comfort me with “Jason, you are so smart, but…” So here I was, trapped on an island campus, surrounded by beautiful women – all young, fit, and absolutely gorgeous – and not a single one was interested in me. What the hell was wrong with me? I eyed the bottle of dry gin between my desk and my bed. A few sips turned into swigs. Before I realized it, my half-filled bottle was already empty. Music blaring from my laptop was masking my soul-wrenching cries. Jesus screamed with me to the tune of “Gethsemane” from Jesus Christ Superstar. “I want to know, I want to know my God, I want to know, I want to know my God, want to see, I want to see my Lord, want to see, I want to see my Lord, if I die what will be my reward, if I die what will be my reward…” Why, of all songs, was this playing? It didn’t matter. I was crying so hard at the ceiling that I was laughing. I had no one. No sex, no love, no real friends… had I been lied to my whole life? Wait for marriage and all that… no porn, no masturbating, be patient… Fuck it! If this was what patience gave me, what was the point? I needed to take what I could get! Now! Stumbling to my feet, I dropped the bottle and staggered my way to my laptop. What was a good porn site? I had no idea… could I google it? No… Youtube. I could look up some stripteases. Or something. There had to be something… Nothing. Just some vids with still images. “Click below to see more.” Youtube really had purged itself of anything questionable, hadn’t it? That’s what everyone was saying… but fuck it. After several dead ends, I gave in and clicked a link, willing to accept whatever malware or viruses were attached. At this point, what did it matter? Livestreaming? Girls were livestreaming on here? Body parts bombarded me from all corners of the screen as I nervously clicked on one of the sexier-looking icons. This was far beyond anything I had imagined growing-up. The screen was black for a brief moment. My music stopped playing as the feed kicked-in. There she was. A real woman on the other end with a real body. She was a curly brunette, wearing laced, black lingerie, black lipstick, black eyeliner, and nothing much else. She leaned back with a sigh, reaching up to squeeze her C-cups with her hands, her black fingernails spread wide. Drunk courage should be kicking-in right about now, right? I decided to try faking it. “Uh…” I sniffed as manly as possible. “Nice.” “Do I have your attention?” she asked, sensually rubbing her sides as she squirmed in her seat. “Sure do…” I pursed my lips and reached down for my belt with a shaking hand. “Good… keep doing what you’re doing. Take hold of that cock and don’t let go. Understand? Stroke it slow… as slow as my hands. Keep watching them. Don’t look anywhere else.” “Y-yeah,” I shook with adrenaline. What the hell was I supposed to do in a livestream? How did masturbation work? “Keep going,” she leaned in with her smoky eyes, cleavage hanging below her as she reached behind her to undo her bra strap. “And don’t stop, no matter what. They’re watching.” “Wait, who’s watching –” “Don’t stop. They have eyes everywhere, but not ears…” she peeled off her bra and held it in front of the camera before chucking it. I gawked at her nipples. They practically stared back at me the way they pertly jutted forwards… “So someone’s recording –” “Shh. Listen carefully; I don’t have much time,” she fingered her nipples, tongue lolling as her fingers made slow, sensual circles. “Jason, none of this is real. It’s all an illusion.” Weird flex, but okay. I guess I could roll with it. “Oh yeah, tell me about the illusion babe…” “Think about it Jason. An all-girl college? On an island? And every single one of them is fit and thin?” “Mm. Yeah… the matrix. I’m going to learn kung fu…” “Pay attention to me…” she raised her arms and wiggled her body like a snake so her breasts wobbled in front of me. “You are cursed Jason. Trapped. I’m calling you from the outside. I’m going to help you escape, but you have to do everything I say.” “Anything, babe. Anything…” “Go to the log on the beach you like sitting on. When you reach it, you will see a striped rock. Dig under it and you will find what you need. I’ll be waiting…” And she was gone. The screen demanded that I create a profile and set up a monthly pay plan to continue. I stared down at myself. I never managed to fumble my fingers through my jeans. That probably wasn’t how masturbation was done. Whatever. I leaned back against my chair and stared at the ceiling, arms hanging limp towards the floor. Wait… how did she know my name? Or the log?

hey everyone, long time lurker finally trying my hand at story writing! Had this idea kicking around my head for a while and finally put it to paper so to speak. it's a mix of a few things in popular culture with my own spin on it. Hope you enjoy, but give me some feedback either way! If you like it I have a few more stories in this world I'm considering. https://www.deviantart.com/spickspuck/art/Serving-the-Lords-906577832

(The following is my contribution to @Batman76's D&D style RP. As DM, he has been doing his best to sabotage my character's superior elven figure 🤨) DM's PROMPT: Kayla thought of having a hundred thousand pleasure slaves at her beck and call but was shaken from contemplating her eventual power by the city she would one day own. The dark skinned wizard was used to the woods and small villages, but this town had tens of thousands of people in it's walls! More than enough to up set her sensitive elf nose and ears with their scents and sounds. When she owned everything, Kayla would institute better sewers and noise pollution for sure! But that was for tomorrow. Kayla hadnt come to this city at random after all! This was Red Port, one of the southern most republics and only a hop and a skip away from the lush southern continent. Kayla had spent most of her coin on a disgusting human ship ride here so she could... PICK ONE: Join a pirate crew to earn fortune and glory!: Tessa Red-Wing, an angel blooded pirate with crimson feathered wings pays a high bounty for any magicians to join her crew. She apparently goes through Sorceresses quite quickly but Kayla will surely evade whatever fate claimed those vain, empty headed fools once she joins the crew of the "Maiden Buster!" She just needs to show off her skills... (Roll INTELLIGENCE) Gain political power! The new Duke of the city is recruiting for his harem. Kayla may not care for her assuredly gorgeous elven looks much but knows she will stand out among the flabby, ugly human competition! Soon she'll have the Duke wrapped around her finger and rule this island with an iron fist! (ROLL CHARISMA) Attain ancient power! Red Ports jungle interior is home to many ancient ruins rumored to hide vast magical artifacts, gold in piles and ancient arcane power! Kayla is too join an adventuring party heading into the jungle, meeting them at a human eatery...(Roll WILLPOWER to avoid overeating and CONSTITUTION if failed) Find a lost master: Abigail Featherweight was an elf wizard who fought harder than any against the rise of Queen Saree. She escaped when the fight was lost and is rumored to be in Red Port. Kayla doesn't care much about politics that don't put her in charge but Abigail is rumored to be training apprentices at a magic school disguised as a bakery of all things!? If Kayla can find and impress her, she could grow even more powerful! (Roll WILLPOWER to avoid overeating, CONSTITUTION if failed. INTELLIGENCE to impress