From: indexhtml@netscape.net   
      
   Story: A Badly Writin Sex Story   
      
   by Vivian Darkbloom   
      
       My heart pounded as I saw my boobs growing, now to the size of   
       bowling balls. "Dan," I tapped my sweetheart lying in bed next to   
       me on the shoulder. "Use a pronoun to tell me that a group of   
       people are going to the market."   
      
       "There going to the store."   
      
       I screamed. Loud.   
      
       "What is it, dear? Calm down. What could the matter be?"   
      
       "Oh no," I recoiled in terror, from the hideous grammatic error,   
       not to mention the awful rhyme. "We're trapped! Caught in a badly   
       writin sex story!"   
      
       "Pipe down now sweetums. It'll be Ok. We'll just take a cold   
       shower, and everything will be fine in a jiffy."   
      
       "You first," I shoved him off the bed. He landed with a thud. My   
       boobs were up to the size of watermelons now, and I noticed his   
       dick swelling as well, ten inches as least, just sort of flopping   
       over the top of his jeans for now.   
      
       Would've done Pinocchio proud.   
      
       He disappeared into the bathroom, and I heard the sound of water   
       flowing. One spigot on, then off again. The other spigot, on then   
       off, back and forth. "Honey," he yelled back at me, "The cold   
       water isn't working. Just comes out lukewarm."   
      
       "Great," I called back. "It's no use. The author won't let us   
       escape until we have sex. Oh no, here go."   
      
       Dan reappeared, just in time to see the moisture stain growing on   
       my underpants, starting to drip through.   
      
       "Quick, go get a bucket," I shouted.   
      
       "They're out in the garage."   
      
       "Better hurry, before we lose all spatial coherence."   
      
       Swiftly he strode to the door, but by now his dick was extending   
       fully hardened, jutting out from his jeans over his head, and he   
       had to get down on the floor and crawl sideways in order to make   
       it through the doorway. "I'll be right back!" he said.   
      
       My boobs were as big as bathtubs now, and the erect nipples were   
       sharp enough to poke holes in the fabric. The moisture was   
       dripping from my cunny hole in copious quantities now, and a   
       puddle was forming on the floor. Soon, Dan returned with the   
       bucket, thrusting it beneath the increasing flow of cunny juice   
       that now flowed effusively. "Gee, haven't had this much fun since   
       the roof sprung a leak."   
      
       "So I guess we have to have sex now?"   
      
       "I gotta go pee first."   
      
       "Better hurry up. Here come the descriptions."   
      
       "Hurry? Why?"   
      
       "Hope you can hold it. All action is about to come to a grinding   
       halt for about twenty minutes."   
      
       Dan was a middle-aged man weighing 197 pounds and measuring 5'11"   
       when standing up straight, or 5'10.5" when slouched a little. He   
       was a caucasian. He had brown eyes. He liked drinking beer. He   
       watched football on TV on the weekends. He was wearing a white   
       undershirt that was maybe a little bit off-color white depending   
       on which light you viewed it in. He was wearing jeans. He was   
       wearing tennis shoes with white socks that were maybe a little   
       bit off-color white depending on which light you viewed it in,   
       but they were a different off-color white than the white   
       undershirt. His hair was medium brown, and he parted it on one   
       side. His hobbies included shopping at hardware stores and   
       working on cars. He drove a Ford pinto that was pale yellow and   
       had a sort of crushed left front fender. He worked at the local   
       plumbing shop selling fixtures and gaskets.   
      
       Bessie was a middle-aged woman weighing 158 pounds and measuring   
       5'6" except when in high heels, in which case it depended on how   
       high the heels were that she was wearing. For example, if she   
       were wearing heels that were 3" high, she would measure 5'9". She   
       was caucasian, and she had either blue eyes with a little bit of   
       green in them or green eyes with a little bit of blue in them,   
       depending on how you wish to describe them. Her drivers license   
       said they were blue, but they weren't really because they had a   
       little bit of green in them. She was wearing a light blue cotton   
       blouse, but it didn't match her eyes because the dress was a kind   
       of faded pale blue but it didn't have any green in it. She was   
       wearing a green dress that was pale and faded like the shirt, but   
       it didn't match the shirt and it wasn't the same shade as her   
       eyes because her eyes had blue in them but the dress was just   
       green, except for maybe some food stains from dinner last night.   
       Her hair was a sort of dirty blonde, and it was eight to ten   
       inches long, depending on where you measured. It fell to just   
       above her shoulders, unless she leaned her head to one side, in   
       which case it was long enough to touch the shoulder on whichever   
       side she was leaning her head towards. It wasn't really dirty,   
       because she washed it regularly in lukewarm water (since the cold   
       wasn't working) but it was a color often known as "dirty blonde"   
       on account of its resemblance to used dishwater. Her hobbies   
       included shopping at the local mall and sewing. She drove a brown   
       chevy Malibu that had a cracked windshield on one side. She   
       worked as a housewife and held tupperware parties sometimes.   
      
       Frantically, I tapped Dan's shoulder, to awaken him from the   
       coma. "Quick! Better go now, before the author forces us to have   
       sex!"   
      
       "Right!" By now his dick was so long it was folded over from the   
       ceiling to the floor and doubled back again, about 10 inches in   
       diameter and hard as rebar.   
      
       While he was squirming through the doorway, I opened the window   
       to empty the bucket. Splash! Onto some poor lady out walking her   
       poodle. "Sorry!" I said.   
      
       "Dear me, Miss," exclaimed the poodle-lady. "I recognize that   
       tone of despair. Are you caught in a poorly writin story?"   
      
       "Help!" I exclaimed. "Save us!"   
      
       "Of course dear. I'll go see if I can find an editor. Don't go   
       away!" and she toodled off with the poodle.   
      
       Dan returned, somehow having managed to relieve his bladder.   
      
       "What happens next?" he asked.   
      
       "Fuck me, my horny sex-stud. I want all of it inside me!" I heard   
       myself saying. Frantically I grabbed a piece of paper and   
       scrawled a note, holding it so the author couldn't see it.   
       Wretchedly unrealistic dialog! I had scrawled.   
      
       He nodded, rolling his eyes as he unwittingly replied "Oh baby. I   
       need to fuck your moist little cunny hole with my big hard dick."   
      
       `Moist' being a bit understated, given that I had already   
       half-filled the bucket again.   
      
       "Oh my great big manly man, give it to me now. Put your manly rod   
       inside of me. Give me all you've got," I uttered lustily,   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)